Chapter 139 - Laying the foundations of a new empire...

The freighter shuddered as it neared the planet’s surface, its retro-thrusters running at full burn to slow the ship’s descent towards the starport. There was a grating rumble as the merchantman touched down, the ship skidding a couple of metres across the ferrocrete until the captain shut down the engines and the bulky vessel finally ground to a halt.

Governor Lucyna Novitsky relaxed her white-knuckled grip on the passenger’s seat, wishing that was the last time she’d have to endure another re-entry. “Thanks for droppin’ me off, Cap’n.”

“Sure thing,” he replied, turning to look her way over his shoulder. “I’ll be planetside a while, then I’ll wait for you in orbit. Just gimme a holler when you’re ready to head back.”

She nodded to the trader in gratitude, then grabbed her suitcase and took the stairs down to ground level. Her boots made a ringing sound as she crossed the metal decking, walking towards the airlock that Captain Glasbey had opened in anticipation of her departure. As Lucyna stepped outside the spacecraft, she breathed deep, enjoying the lovely pine-scented atmosphere of Brecken’s World. A man wearing a slightly-crumpled suit was waiting for her at the edge of the landing platform and he began walking briskly in her direction.

“Welcome, Governor Novitsky,” he said respectfully as he approached. “My name’s Barnes, I work for Governor Vaughn. He wanted to meet you personally, but he’s up to his ears in T-Fed bureaucracy at the moment. The supply convoy arrived this morning and we’ve been trying to get the freighters unloaded as fast as possible.”

“That’s okay, I understand,” she replied, following her guide across the landing platform. “Bad timin’, huh? Especially with everythin’ else going on...”

Barnes glared at one of the supply freighters as they walked through the starport. “Fuckin’ High Command ... those assholes think they can just buy us off after what happened?” he hissed, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting attention. “That we’ll just forgive and forget them leaving us to get fucked up by the Bugs?”

Luce grimaced at the unpleasant memories his angry venting stirred up. Her capture by the Kirrix seemed almost like a bad dream now, the memories blurry and fading by the day ... but she could still recall the awful shame and humiliation she’d endured. Glancing at the man beside her, Luce could see those same emotions mirrored in his eyes too.

“They can never make it right,” she replied quietly. “The Bugs took my whole colony ... I know exactly how you feel.”

He swallowed and looked away. “Yeah ... I shouldn’t have brought it up ... I’m sorry.”

Giving him a reassuring pat on the arm to show she took no offence, Luce followed her guide out of the starport and into the city of Valley Falls. Calling the settlement a city was a bit of a stretch, as it was basically just a large town that had grown around the starport. The streets were full of rustic bars and diners, catering to the off-world merchant traffic that came to Brecken’s World for their primary export.

Luce stopped on the sidewalk beside Barnes as a procession of trucks rumbled past, their massive wheels taller than her and caked in mud. Each of the sturdy haulers were loaded with timber fresh from the surrounding lumberyards, all destined for the supply freighters docked in the starport. Now that those freighter captains had completed their supply run for the Admiralty, they were making sure they turned a tidy profit on their return home to the Core Worlds.

Her own colony, Valia Gate, was also a big exporter, although the primary material it possessed was silver. Most of the planets in the Outer Rim were in a similar position, with colonists settling on those worlds to exploit some form of abundantly available natural resource. All the ores, and timber, and precious metals were funnelled back to the Core Worlds, sent to feed the insatiable demands of those highly populated planets. In return, they shipped back all the equipment and supplies needed to survive the harsh conditions out on the frontier.

Luce stood and watched the huge haulage vehicles as they trundled along the cracked asphalt, wondering how their colonies were going to be viable if that supply chain was broken. The Outer Rim might be a huge source of raw materials, but all the manufacturing and production was carried out on the more established worlds in the Terran Federation. Valia Gate had only been founded fifty years ago, but some of the systems near Terra were settled seven centuries earlier, when mankind first took to the stars.

The Outer Rim turning its back on the Core Worlds suddenly seemed like a very foolish idea indeed. As much as Luce loathed the Admiralty, she knew that a dozen frontier systems breaking away on their own would face a very bleak future, even if they were allowed to leave peacefully.

“Governor Novitsky? Are you alright, ma’am?”

She jumped as Barnes touched her arm, breaking her out of the reverie. Luce realised she’d been lost in her thoughts, staring into the distance along the now deserted road.

“Yeah ... I’m fine,” she grunted, nodding to her guide to continue.

They crossed over the street and walked towards the colony administration building, an ugly ferrocrete monstrosity that loomed over the smaller shops and restaurants nearby. A detachment of T-Fed marines marched out of the admin complex, then stood guard as their commander spoke to an older man in a rumpled suit at the top of the entry steps. Luce recognised Governor Vaughn at once but made no attempt to get his attention. She followed Barnes around the building, taking a side-street that led to a disused loading dock, and the rear entrance to the administration centre.

By the time they entered the building, Governor Vaughn was waiting to meet them. “Luce, I thought I spotted you out the front! How was your flight?”

“Alright, I guess. Never did think much a planet hoppin’,” she muttered dourly, her moment of introspection putting her in a foul mood. Luce shook his calloused hand. “Hope this ain’t gonna be a waste of my time, Stefan.”

He laughed, his weather-beaten face lighting up into a broad smile. “Cheer up, Luce. I promise you’re not going to regret coming here ... you’ll be witnessing history in the making!”

Luce glanced at her escort, then pulled Governor Vaughn aside to whisper furtively, “Listen ... I’ve been thinkin’ about things on my way over. Even if we can leave the T-Fed peacefully, how are we ever gonna survive on our own? Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s amazin’ you got those other systems interested, but there’s what ... nine of us total? We’re totally screwed without the Core Worlds’ manufacturing capabilities, let alone the fleets to protect ourselves from the Kirrix!”

“You always were a smart one, Luce ... and you’re absolutely right. Nine systems breaking away on their own just isn’t enough to be viable,” Vaughn agreed, his expression sombre. His eyes twinkled with barely suppressed glee as he continued, “That’s why we’re waiting just a couple more days for a whole bunch of others ... plus the envoy from Nerus IV!”

“Nerus IV?” Lucyna muttered, frowning in confusion. Her eyes suddenly widened in shock as she made the connection. “Port Heracles?!”

Stefan winked at her and offered the stunned woman his arm. “Let’s go get a drink, Luce ... I’ll bring you up to speed.”

John smiled gratefully at Valani as she took away his empty plate. “That Fenmaer was absolutely delicious, thank you. The sauce complemented the meat perfectly.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” she gushed, beaming at him in delight. “I usually prepare all my meals by myself, so it was really fun cooking with you.”

He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze, then turned his attention back to Edraele. “That’s great news about the Abandoned. How many were Lilyana’s fleet able to rescue?”

“There were ten transport vessels, each carrying ten-thousand prisoners,” his Maliri Matriarch replied. Her expression darkened as she continued, “Unfortunately, one of the transports vented their lower decks and killed half the prisoners before our embedded hackers were able to seize control.”

“That’s one more thing the Brimorians will have to pay for,” John muttered, looking equally grim. His eyes narrowed as those numbers sank in. “A hundred-thousand Abandoned in a single shipment ... I wonder how often the Brimorians have been selling slaves to the Kirrix?”

“I’d imagine the Kirrix would want as many hosts as possible,” Edraele replied, considering the distances between their respective homeworlds and the border between the two empires. “Completing one transfer per month would give both fleets plenty of time to unload their cargos and make the return journey to the border.”

“Over a million people a year ... it’s almost too horrific to believe,” John muttered, shocked by the appalling death toll. He rubbed his brow in frustration. “I want to free the Abandoned more than anything ... but as Calara keeps reminding me, we’ve got bigger problems to deal with right now.”

“You have severely disrupted the Kirrix slave trade,” Edraele reminded him. “As soon as Lilyana’s forces have transferred the prisoners, they’ll destroy all the Brimorian transports. It will be a while before the Enclave discovers what’s happened to their fleet and it’ll take them some time to assemble another transportation force.”

“I guess we’ve bought ourselves another couple of weeks ... I just hope that’s long enough,” he mused aloud, his expression turning pensive. “We’ve still got so many urgent tasks we need to complete before we can actually deal with the Brimorians. We have to find Kythshara, locate Mael’nerak’s hyper-warp gate, capture Larn’kelnar’s thrall fleets, then refit the Invictus ... and that’s assuming Dana’s actually able to reverse engineer Progenitor tech.”

“A daunting list,” the Maliri queen agreed, her tone sympathetic. “But you’ve had to operate under strict time constraints on many occasions and still managed to triumph. I have no doubt that between you and your crew, you’ll be able to quickly resolve all those issues, then intervene to stop the Brimorians in short order. I’ll aid you in any way that I can and you also have all the resources in the Maliri Protectorate at your disposal.”

John reached out to hold her hand. “I haven’t forgotten about helping you with the matriarchs. I’ll try to spend as much time with them as I can over the next few weeks.”

“There’s no need to worry yourself on that regard,” Edraele said with a reassuring smile. “The matriarchs are all connected to my network now, so it’s simply a matter of scheduling sessions with them to accelerate them through the Change. I don’t foresee any major difficulties with any of the new recruits, but Emandra Holaris is likely to require a substantial investment of your time.”

“I expect she’s going to have by far the most trouble adapting to the Change ... assuming she even agrees to go ahead with it.”

Edraele gave him a knowing smile. “The opportunity to restore her youth will be far too tempting for her to resist. I have no doubt that Emandra will take you up on your offer.”

“It just feels so wrong rewarding her like this,” John said with a frustrated sigh. “She tortured her daughters for decades and ended up killing them all ... although I guess that was in self-defence. I know that Emandra will end up punishing herself with a guilty conscience ... but that seems woefully inadequate after everything she’s done.”

“Making these kinds of decisions will be your hardest duty as leader of the Maliri,” Edraele said with sympathy. “I suppose we should be very thankful that Emandra is the only confirmed survivor of the original thirteen matriarchs. Imagine if they’d all slain their daughters and you were faced with pardoning that entire coven of tyrants for political expediency.”

John grimaced at the thought. “Yeah ... that doesn’t even bear thinking about.”

“I know your feelings on Sarinia and about what she did, but I can’t help feeling relieved at the huge burden she inadvertently lifted from your shoulders.”

He nodded his agreement. “I know ... which makes punishing her all the more complicated.”

They sat there in silence as John considered his options for dealing with the wayward House Baelora matriarch. Sarinia’s actions had made his life considerably easier, but he didn’t want to judge her based on his own selfish interests. He now had to consider the Protectorate as a whole and the message he would be sending with any sentence that he chose for her, as she had wilfully broken one of the Queen’s new laws. Then there was the whole thorny issue of judging an alien civilisation by Terran moral values, as well as taking into account his own culpability, for creating the source of strife between the matriarchs and their daughters in the first place.

“I’m sure you’ll find a just solution,” Edraele said, giving him a supportive smile.

“I hope so too,” he murmured, before glancing at the chronometer. “The new matriarchs should be waking up soon. I should probably go and check they’re alright.”

Edraele rose from her chair. “Why don’t you leave that to me? Then you can meet with Sarinia again. I’ll speak to the matriarchs about scheduling some time with you, so they can get to know you more intimately. Would you like to see them individually or in pairs?”

“Why pairs?” John asked, as he got up from his seat.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing smile.

John blushed as understanding sunk in. “Ah ... I’ll leave that to your discretion ... or theirs ... you know what I mean.”

“I do indeed, my Lord,” Edraele purred, linking arms with him as they left the dining room.

They parted with a kiss, then John backtracked along Genthalas’ golden corridors to the House Baelora guest suite. Acknowledging the two guards with a nod, he activated the door chime and waited until Sarinia bade him enter. When the doors parted, he found the noblewoman waiting for him once again, but this time her awed gaze held an undercurrent of anxiety.

“Hello again, Sarinia,” John greeted her as he crossed the lounge.

“I’m glad you’ve returned, Baen’thelas,” she replied, not taking her eyes off him as she bowed respectfully.

“You were very upset about Tehlariene when I left you earlier this morning. Did you think of any way you could atone for what you did to her ... and the other women that died because of your actions?”

She hesitated before replying, her expression conflicted. “I’ve thought about nothing else in your absence, my Lord. I’m not sure what answer I can give you that will assuage your anger.”

“This isn’t just about placating me,” John said, frowning at the contrite matriarch. He studied her perceptively, then had a sudden epiphany. “You’re not upset about murdering your sister or the other noblewomen ... all you care about is that I’m angry you did it!”

“I’m deeply sorry that I’ve offended you ... but I don’t know what to do or say to fix it!” Sarinia blurted out, wringing her hands together in anguish. “I did care for Tehlariene and would’ve spared her if I could, but you’ve said yourself how much you favour the youngest daughters. If I hadn’t killed her, I would’ve been cast aside and replaced by Tehlariene without a second thought.”

John was about to protest, but the words died on his lips as he knew she was right.

Sarinia dropped to her knees before he could reply. “I’m begging you for mercy, Baen’thelas! Give me a chance to serve you in any way that pleases you! I promise you won’t regret it.”

I’m sorry John, I should’ve expected something like this, Edraele quietly apologised. Thrall genetic conditioning is very potent and Sarinia’s had a significant amount of close exposure to you. I don’t think you’re going to get the kind of contrition you want from her ... not when she’s in this state.

He dropped into the nearest seat with a heavy sigh, then looked down into the matriarch’s tormented gaze. “Will you let me take a look into your mind, Sarinia? I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“You may do as you wish, my Lord,” she replied earnestly.

John cupped her face in his hand, the light touch to her skin drawing a breathy moan from the Maliri noblewoman. His eyes began to shine with a soft blue glow and he reached out to make contact with Sarinia’s subconscious. Any resistance she might have offered fell away as Sarinia mentally prostrated herself before him, allowing John to wander uninhibited through her mind.

He was very cautious as he delved deeper into Sarinia’s thoughts, knowing that a misstep could be disastrous for her psyche. The Maliri noblewoman’s memories were neatly arranged, indicating that she possessed a highly organised and logical mind. However that wasn’t what drew his attention. The colours of the neural paths leading to those memories were very ... disturbing in their texture and palette.

The mental pathways all had an icy white tint to them, as though Sarinia was cold and aloof from her feelings. Underneath that frosty hue were faint traces of darker colours, the ugly mottled reds representing bitterness, resentment, and loathing. John knew instinctively that he wasn’t looking at a healthy mind ... significant trauma had badly warped the woman’s subconscious in a fundamental way.

Everywhere he looked was the same; Sarinia’s memories were marked by an almost clinical detachment from her emotions, yet underscored by an echo of tightly-suppressed hatred. As John carefully explored her subconscious, he saw the same colouration everywhere. Sarinia’s memory map looked like a wintery wonderland ... except the snowfall couldn’t quite hide the gruesome crimson stains that covered the landscape beneath.

He ventured deeper into Sarinia’s mind, delving back through decades of memories to find the source of the trauma that had warped her thought processes for so long. Decades mounted to a century and still he pressed further, the images flashing over the surface of those memories showing an increasingly younger Sarinia, until she eventually appeared as a coltish girl. On the horizon a kaleidoscope of bright colours sprang to life and John realised he’d reached the pivotal event that had distorted the Maliri noblewoman’s mind.

The pivotal memory stuck out like a blighted mark on her mental map. The pathway leading towards it was stained a furious scarlet, shot through with the pitch black of a trust betrayed. John stopped before it and stared at the picture of Sarinia’s childlike face frozen in a scream of anguish, the image so disturbing that it sent a shiver down his spine.

The last thing he wanted to do was go anywhere near that memory, but John knew that it was the key to understanding the troubled matriarch. Holding out his hand, he tentatively touched the memory and let himself be pulled inside, his senses subsumed by Sarinia’s childhood recollections...

The glorious sunrise sent dazzling spears of light through the angled filters over her bedroom window, waking Sarinia at dawn. She sat up in bed and smiled as she held up her hand, admiring the beautiful shafts of sunlight playing over her fingertips. It was a lovely morning on Baelora and Sarinia was excited to be up so early, eager to finish the special surprise she had been preparing for her mother.

Gaenna Baelora had been in an awful mood for weeks, the matriarch lashing out with her sharp tongue at everyone in the palace. She had even reduced her daughter to tears, berating the young girl for being stupid and useless. Sarinia wasn’t sure exactly what she’d done wrong to deserve such a harsh rebuke, but she loved her mother and was sincerely sorry that she’d upset her.

Pulling out the easel from its secret hiding place beneath her bed, Sarinia set up the portrait and carefully added the finishing touches. Gaenna Baelora was ensconced on a golden throne in all her matriarchal finery, seated beneath a banner carrying their magnificent House sigil. Her mother had often spoken of having more daughters, and Sarinia longed to have younger sisters to play with, so she had added herself and several smaller siblings to make it a family portrait.

Sarinia’s electronic brush lovingly caressed the digital canvas, as she tried to make her mother look as beautiful as possible, just like she was in real life. Stepping back, she studied her handiwork with a critical eye, checking it met her exacting standards to ensure that it was perfect. She beamed with joy, delighted that the picture made her mother look so regal and powerful. The portrait had taken her weeks to complete, but she was sure that it would bring a smile to Gaenna’s face ... and that would make all her hard work worthwhile.

She detached the holo-projector from the easel and left her bedroom, skipping through the palace to the matriarchal suite. Sarinia could scarcely contain her excitement as she approached Gaenna’s bedroom, hoping that if her mother liked the portrait enough, they might be able to spend the whole day together as a reward. She entered the bedchamber and found her mother tangled up in rumpled sheets, Gaenna snoring softly and oblivious to the young girl’s presence.

Reaching out with fingers trembling from excitement, Sarinia patted the House Baelora matriarch’s forearm. “Mother ... wake up! I have a surprise for you!” she gushed, eager to bring a smile to Gaenna’s face.

Her mother groaned and covered her eyes, squinting against the morning sunlight peeking through the shutters. “Sarinia...? What do you want?” she snapped with irritation.

“I made you a present, mother!” her daughter explained, presenting the holo-projector.

Gaenna glanced at the chronometer and her eyes narrowed in fury. “It’s not even six yet!”

“I’m sorry ... I just wanted to show you-”

“You wretched child, I’ve told you not to disturb me in the morning! I was up until four last night trying to save our House from being consumed by that Valaden witch and how do you repay me?” Gaenna sneered, her voice ringing with contempt as she continued, “By jolting me awake for some stupid present?!”

“I just wanted to make you feel better,” Sarinia whimpered in dismay. “You didn’t say anything about not waking you up, so I-”

Her mother sat bolt upright, face contorted with rage. “How dare you try to correct me!”

Sarinia had an excellent memory and she knew Gaenna had never forbidden her from entering her bedroom early in the morning. “But you never said-”

“You insolent little shit ... it’s time you learned some respect!” Gaenna snarled, grabbing her daughter by the wrist and knocking the projector out of her hands.

As Sarinia was dragged to the end of the bed, the holo-device struck the ground, shattering the projection crystal. The device activated and the portrait she’d laboured over appeared, but now it was marred by jagged cracks, distorting her mother’s face into an ugly parody of the House Baelora matriarch. Sarinia struggled against Gaenna’s strong grip as she was bound by secure cords from the posts at the end of the bed. She’d been punished with slaps and smacks plenty of times in the past, but Sarinia had never seen her mother so angry before.

“Please, mother!” Sarinia gasped, straining to break free. “I’m sorry!”

Her desperate plea went unanswered and an ominous hum started behind her.

“You will be!” Gaenna snarled malevolently.

There was a sharp crack, then Sarinia’s body was ablaze with agony, her back feeling like it had been stabbed by a thousand burning needles. She screamed in anguish, writhing in desperation to escape her bonds and flee from this hideous torment. There seemed to be no end to the pain, the wound from the neural lash throbbing with a nauseating intensity that made it seem like it would never cease.

Then Gaenna struck again, a new stripe of agony setting her daughter’s nerves on fire. Sarinia sobbed and whimpered, but still the excruciating torture continued. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she twisted around, desperately trying to make eye-contact with her mother as she begged her to stop. When she saw Gaenna’s face, Sarinia froze in horror, the look of sadistic glee more terrible than her mother’s grotesque expression on the shattered portrait.

Suddenly, Sarinia realised with sickening clarity that it didn’t matter that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Her mother was inflicting the worst pain she’d ever felt in her young life for no other reason than Gaenna’s own twisted pleasure. The person Sarinia loved most in the world was actually taking delight in making her suffer!

Her pleas for mercy died on her lips and Sarinia hung limply in her bonds, flinching reflexively as she was struck again and again. The tears dried on her cheeks as she withdrew into herself, the horrible betrayal too much for her fragile subconscious to endure. Sarinia hated this cruel monster that was torturing her for fun, and she wished fervently, with all her shattered heart, that she would live long enough to see Gaenna Baelora suffer an agonising death.

John jerked back from the awful memory, utterly revolted by what he’d just witnessed. He only wished that Gaenna Baelora was still alive, so that he could execute her himself for what she’d done to that sweet innocent girl. It was hard to believe that anyone could be so cruel to a child, let alone their own daughter. Remembering the patchwork of old scars that covered Sarinia’s back, he realised torture sessions like that must have been a frequent occurrence in the noblewoman’s life.

It was no wonder she had turned out this way after suffering that level of abuse. John had been injured numerous times, but he’d never experienced that kind of agony before. He opened his eyes to look down at Sarinia and his heart ached to see how desperate she was to regain his favour.

“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through,” he said, gently stroking her cheek. “You’re just as much a victim of Maliri society as all the other noblewomen who’ve died recently.”

“So you’ll forgive me? Let me serve at your side?” she asked, her face lighting up with hope.

John hesitated, reluctant to shatter her dreams. “Sarinia, all the torture you endured has left terrible scars ... not just on your back, but on your mind too. I can heal you physically, but I don’t think I can fix what happened to you mentally ... the damage goes too deep and the trauma distorted your entire subconscious.”

Her expression flickered with alarm. “I don’t understand ... I feel fine!”

“That’s the problem ... you don’t really feel anything at all,” John said with sympathy. “Your mother hurt you so badly, at such an impressionable age, that you withdrew into yourself so she couldn’t hurt you again. Even if I pardoned you for your crimes, I still wouldn’t be able to trust you in the future. You’re exceptionally intelligent, but you’re also cold and calculating, ruthlessly working for your own self-interests at all times. I can’t risk exposing the mothers of my children to someone who thinks and acts the way you do.”

Sarinia stared at him aghast when she realised how sincere he was. “But you forgave Edraele Valaden! If she can learn to become someone you can trust, then I can too!”

John slowly shook his head. “The original Edraele is gone ... her personality utterly erased. The woman you met still has Edraele Valaden’s memories, but I had to completely rebuild her into a kind and loving person who cares deeply about her friends, family, and the Maliri as a whole.”

“Why can’t you do that for me?” Sarinia asked, gazing up at him with pleading eyes.

He blinked and looked at her in surprise. “I don’t think you understand the ramifications...”

She nodded eagerly. “I do! I want to be just like Edraele! I can see how much you care about her ... about how important she is to you! If you can’t trust me as I am now, remake me so that you can! I’ll do anything to be with you, Baen’thelas, I swear it!”

He sat back and considered her earnest plea. When the guide had erased Edraele’s original personality, he’d killed her, just as surely as if he’d shot her in the head. John had always considered it to be a monstrous act, the forceful stripping away of who she was a terrible violation of Edraele’s mind and something he’d vowed never to do.

But this wouldn’t be against Sarinia’s will, Edraele reminded him gently. She wants this, John.

Yeah ... but she’s being influenced by her genetic attraction to me, John replied, troubled by the moral quandary. I don’t think that really counts as consent.

I’m not sure you can think about it in those terms, Alyssa countered. If you asked the entire population of Maliri women if they’d give up their old life to be loved by you and have your children, I’d bet a million credits every single one of them would agree in a heartbeat. It’s built into every female thrall to want to be with the Progenitor who claimed their species ... that desire is just a fundamental part of who they are.