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Brinus slammed his fist into the vending machine and cussed. He was in the hallway outside of a landing pad and felt someone put his hands on his back. It was Simmie. Reacting by jumping and turning around, he was still on edge.
The smell of charred plastic and molten metal filled the air. A charcoal-burnt body lay in front of the vending machine, and in the hallway, in front of the landing pad, was rubble strewn with metal fragments everywhere. The lights flickered in an eerie, sparkling flash.
Simmie asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Brinus Snapped at him after hyperventilating for a couple of seconds, “No, I don’t! Did ‘ya see what they’re sayin’ on social media ’bout me?!” He waved his hand dismissively.
They came across a door with a shorted yellow light. The blast door was half open with a huge hole in it.
Simmie sighed and then laughed nervously as Brinus and Simmie pulled it open, “Bro! We have been in battle for hours! This break is the first time I had a chance to do anything!”
Brinus shrugged. “After my dental surgery, I’m meetin’ my biological mother at the capital. I can’t go campin’ with ’ya.”
“Really? I put in for ten days’ leave!”
He then walked down more destroyed corridors with Simmie. “I’ll need someone to teach me table manners an’ shit. Why don’t ya join me?”
Simmie’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you were related to someone in the gentry class?”
Brinus and Simmie were walking to the midshipmen’s quarters.
Brinus sighed and snapped, “My mother’s the Duchess of District Twelve. She ain’t gentry but upper nobility. I don’t want everyone to know.”
Simmie laughed. “Love! If you’re trending on social media and other media sites, then chances are everyone knows who you are. I’ve been dating the Duke of District twelve?! My dad will have a heart attack! Wow, if your mother is a duchess...” He ruffled Brinus’s grimy hair.
Simmie went onto his social media app and began looking him up. Brinus was too exhausted, physically and mentally, to deal with this bullshit. He just said goodbye in a short tone and went into his quarters to clean up and return to duty.
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A woman with long blond hair similar to Brinus, blue eyes identical to Brinus, and who was relatively short but was physically fit, long and lean, and was thirty-six but looked nineteen stood in front of a crowd of streamers, newscasters, and independent journalists. They sat in neat rows of chairs, clambering for footage of the woman on the podium.
Her voice was deep and husky. She wore a black professional suit, white blouse, and custom bright red high heels. Her hair had a salon look, and she wore bright red lipstick.
The duchess flicked her hair and then continued talking. “So, in conclusion, based on poisoner interviews and battlefield reports, the Federation lost their opening battle for the following reasons: lack of organization, an us versus them mentality in the NCO corps, and a lack of a unified mission from leadership. We will now be taking questions. You are
in the back. What do you want to ask?”
“What can you tell us about your son’s involvement in the burglary of Viscount Tomage for his navi chip?”
“No comment. Next question. You! Next to Redtail!”
The reporter beside Redtail spoke. “Do you wish to issue a statement on your son, Smaul, for groping that nurse last night in the ER?”
The duchess sighed, looked down, and then looked back up. She then said in a firm voice, “The next person who asks a question about the social media controversy will be removed from this conference and have their media access revoked. Next question.”
The next reporter spoke. “Can you tell us about the flight officer who was captured at the battle?”
The duchess felt like this question was a backward attempt to try and ask about Brinus. However, she answered it anyway, as it was a war question. “Yes, the lieutenant commander and chief flight officer of the Carrier Tomog were captured trying to raid some scavengers. Due to the heroic actions of a cadet named Brinus Helios, he not only captured the flight officer of a carrier but also recovered a cache of concussion missiles and plasma torpedoes, which will fetch 400 million credits on the grey market to fund our war. The pulse torpedoes, However, were ultimately unusable without the fuses and will need to be disassembled for parts and scrap. The situation is fluid, so I will be updating you guys regularly. Next Question!”
After the questions were asked, the duchess walked off the stage and breathed heavily, trying to calm down. Her pupils were dilated, and her palms were sweaty. A servant found
her leaning against the wall, hyperventilating backstage. The servant quietly took her to an isolated room and then injected her with some meds from his med bag. Finally, she snapped out of it.
The medic sat across from her and asked, “Are you okay, madam duchess?”
The duchess looked surprised. “Did the civic AI call you?”
The medic examined Marci by taking her pulse and measuring her blood pressure. “She called dispatch and said there was a medical emergency backstage. She didn’t say it
was the duchess. Can I leave you by yourself? Do I need to take you to the nursing station?”
The Duchess snapped. “I will be fine. I shouldn’t have been weak in front of my servants. It’ll be good in a few minutes.” She realized she needed something stronger cigarette.
The duchess tilted her head and sneered. “You are dismissed.”
Marci thought to herself that she was having panic attacks because of the surprise invasion and the social media controversy. Now, she found her long-lost son having just appeared out of nowhere. The Magi informed her on the same day as the Battle of Alpha Centauri. She wanted to meet him because she lost him at age one.
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Four days later, Brinus was dressed in a white T-shirt, blue jeans that sagged with a metal chain, a black leather jacket, and skateboard shoes with a cobbler’s logo.
He was at the soda vending machine at the service entrance, putting some credit chips into the money slot. It was a gray stone passageway with the silver room, the goldware room, the head housekeeper’s office, and the head butler’s office. The servant's quarters smelled musty and were cozy.
He opened the soda and began drinking. He was a bit nervous, and there was a cough behind him.
“Excuse me. Are you here for the interview?”
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Brinus figured he just would play along. “I’m with the pirate crew, The Calhoon of the pirate captain Long Ho. I’m the engineer, a pentestor, and a professional burglar. I am with
the Orin Syndicate.” Brinus showed the head housemaid his Orin syndicate tattoo.
The woman smiled. “Oh! Then you’re here for a wartime-sanctioned crime license. Still, showing up like this unannounced is a bit irregular. Your syndicate rep should really make an appointment for you. What is your name?”
“Brinus Helios. My call sign is Ginger Cat.”
The head housekeeper shrugged. “I will see if she'll see you. I wouldn’t bet on it.” She turned and left.
He laughed as two footmen looked at him. The other footmen spoke, getting up to shake his hand. “I know you! You’re the Outlaw of Otis Datis! When did you get here?!”
He laughed. “Yesterday. The Victory is busy with repairs. I took some leave and wanted to meet my family before I got my surgery. I’ll be laid up fer a week.”
The duchess came into the servant’s lounge, and everyone stood. She came up to Brinus and looked down at the floor to hide the tears in her eyes. However, she couldn’t hide them from Brinus, who saw them even if the servants didn’t.
The duchess’s eyes were wide, and her mouth was open. Only for a second did she show surprise or emotion. She immediately resumed her stern body posture.
“Come with me,” said the duchess in a grim tone.
\Brinus put his soda down on the table as the other servants sat back down. Brinus walked behind his mother into the drawing room, where she sat on the brass gilded loveseat.
The room had brass-plated furniture, a grand white marble fireplace, walls with eight block paneling with mirrors inside each panel, and checkerboard gray and black marble floors.
The room was large and spotless with a smell like lemon balm and silver polish. There was a slightly smokey atmosphere; the armchairs smelled like vape juice cigarettes with a combination of old church upholstery. They looked over 200 years old.
The duchess chuckled and then said, “You’re the kid who has caused me so much grief over the last four days.”
He shrugged his shoulders and then laughed, “I dunno. Bein’ a romantic thief is kind of wicked. Some college girls tried to hit on me.”
Marci smiled. “What did you say?”
He laughed, “No thanks. I’m already taken.”
She smiled, “Who’s the lucky woman?”
Brinus smiled, showing his teeth, and then grimaced. He then walked over to the whisky glass and poured himself a shot to deal with the pain. “I have surgery tomorrow. I’ll be laid out fer a week and then be on light duty fer three weeks. Today’ll be the only day I can visit.”
The Duchess scoffed. “Nonsense! You’ll have your surgery here! I have a Holosuiet that can replicate anything that isn’t poison or a controlled substance. My palace has a hospital ward. I will contact the surgeon tonight after I speak with your captain. Is there anyone you want me to contact?”
Brinus thought for a second. “Simmie. My boyfriend. He’s on the repair crew too, so ya’ might have to do some convincin’.”
Marci looked at Brinus blankly. “I have to set up a wartime economy, so I won’t see you until tonight. It is so good to meet you finally! If you need anything, ask one of the footmen.
My butler will set your apartment up. Check-in is in an hour. I will have any luggage you want brought up to your apartment.” She slapped him on the back and left.
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Brinus was at Dinner. His mother rented a black tailcoat, a white tuxedo shirt, and a pair of black dress shoes. Simmie was in the dress uniform for a midshipman. Marci wore a black cocktail dress. At first, Brinus swore he heard something, which was confirmed when the duchess threw her silk napkin down onto the table and swore using a string of cuss words.
She then grabbed the first footman who was standing next to her.
“Why did you allow my son into the house?! I told you if he is high or drunk, not to let him in after supper!”
The first footman said, “Sorry, madam duchess. I will send one of the footmen to deal with it.”
She stooped and yelled at the servants. “I don’t want him in this dining room. You know what will happen if he Meets Brinus! I don’t need a murder investigation!”
Before the servants could stop him from coming into the dining room, the eighteen-year-old sat at the table and put his feet up on top of a native bird roast, crushing it.
“What the fuck, mom!? I am the fucking Duke of District fucking twelve!”
Brinus wiped his mouth and looked at Smaul.
“Who the fuck are you?” Smaul turned his anger to Brinus.
Brinus looked at his mother, then at the servants, and then back at Smaul. “Who are you?”
The duchess yelled at her son. “How is it that a convicted criminal and a registered pirate have more class than you?!”
Smaul pulled out an eyedropper and put two drops in each eye. Brinus knew what was happening but chose to ignore it.
“Hey, dumbass, I am talking to you!”
“I don’t talk to gutter trash.”
Several servants and Simmie snickered.
“What the fuck did you call me, you stupid bitch?!”
Brinus put his bouillon spoon down throwing food onto Smaul. and looked Smaul in the eye. “I said…I don’t talk to gutter trash like you. Now let me eat in peace or fuck off before I kick your ass. Oh you need to clean yourself up.” Brinus flicked his head and turned to his mother. “So, Mom, what is your opinion on Navy basic training?”
Smaul put his foot on top of the Roast Duck. “Don’t you ignore me! I am the Duke! You will do as you are told.”
Two great house security staff can enter the dining hall.
“Madam duchess, the AI called us.”
“Remove Smaul and lock him out of the house.”
“Yes, Madam Duchess.”
Brinus punched Smaul in the face once it became apparent he was about to overpower security staff —Knocking him out. Brinus helped the security staff carry him out. All three of them tossed him out of the main entrance, with the butler locking the doors and windows.
After dinner was spoiled, the duchess wiped her mouth, and then the civic AI called the doctor. In the end, Brinus had a few cuts and bruises. One needed a few minutes on the dermal regenerator, and a second one needed sutures because it was too big for the dermal device.
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Three days later, Brinus brushed his teeth in the apartment master bedroom bathroom. The great house had four-hundred twelve-hundred square feet of apartments across four buildings around a park. Brinus had blue jeans and a tee shirt on. He also had another set of skateboard shoes with no-show socks on his feet. Simmie came into the bathroom
and ruffled Brinus’s hair. He turned around after spitting and washing his mouth. He saw Simmie. They were smiling at each other. Brinus play-fought with Simmie for a few seconds, and then they hugged.
“How are you?” asked Simmie, kissing Brinus on the neck.
Brinus laughed. “I finally kin brush my teeth without wantin’ to scream. You got any of those there nicotine patches the doctor gave me? The cravings are really bad, and the withdrawal is worse.”
Simmie smiled, “Yeah. I put them on the dining room table. You’re on your last ten patches, so make these last. The doctor said you can smoke tomorrow.”
Brinus tapped Simmie on the left cheek a couple of times, kissed him for a few seconds, and then smiled. He then walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.
“Do I need dress clothes for a formal breakfast?”
Simmie shrugged, “You do if you’re at a gentry estate and your upper nobility, so I am certain you do. You will need white-tie, though, for an informal breakfast. I am sure you can get one of the footmen to make you a set. You know what your mother said about arguing with Smaul.”
Brinus put one of the patches on his right arm over the shoulder.
The happy mood soured faster than milk in the Tanzo Desert. The Tanzo Dessert was the Hottest in Saffron. Temperatures regularly reach up to 120 degrees F, and it only rained once every 250 years.
He cussed and then said, “I don’t wonna talk about Smaul.”
“What?”
He slammed his hands on the vanity. “I need a fuckin’ cigarette; my fuckin’ mouth hurts; the nic fit don’t help…”
Simmie left the apartment as Brinus ranted. This issue would have to be sorted between him and his brother. He certainly was not going to put himself in the crossfire.
Twenty minutes later, he walked out into the dining room in a black tie tuxedo and black dress shoes.
Marci Put her pad down and looked at Brinus. “How would you like to give out licenses to commit crimes and letters of marque today?”
He cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Really? You’ve only known me fer four days, and I hit my brother on the first night.”
Marci looked over her reading glasses. “I will admit you do have some rough edges.” She quietly crossed her ankles and sighed.
Truthfully, Marci was desperate for an heir, and she could tell that Brinus was far more stable than Smaul despite having criminal tendencies.
Brinus shrugged and laughed, “I ain’t much of a politician, but I’ll try.”
The duchess smiled and then grinned ear-to-ear, “You’ll learn. Also, depending on how you do today, I may enroll you in some public speaking courses.” She laughed with Brinus.
“What is wrong with Smaul?” He finally asked, tilting his head.
The duchess put her pad down and looked at Brinus.
“What do you mean?”
Brinus sat down and began biting his nails as he was having cravings. “There are only two ways an eighteen-year-old is that toxic, and it usually ain’t the parent’s fault. They have to be born like that, or they’re addicted to drugs. Is it rage or bath spice?”
The duchess sighed and then put her pad down. “It started two years ago with eye drops and then escalated with alcohol. He uses the eye drops rage. I want you to sign a few documents.”
She reached for her pad and handed them to Brinus. He had a hard time holding the digipen because his hands shook from nicotine withdrawal. The patches kept him going into the worst of the symptoms and helped with the cravings.
“Now sign this.”
Brinus signed the next document. It was a declaration of adoption.
“Now sign this.”
The next document was the declaration of making him an heir and disinheriting Smaul.
Brinus signed that document.
“Now, sign this final document.”
Brinus looked at the document. It was declaring him the Duke of District 12
Marci looked at the signatures. “Your signatures look terrible. Is it the AA Nicotine withdrawal?”
Brinus nodded.
“We will need to get these notarized later today and I will submit these to the senate.”
Brinus left the breakfast room feeling good about himself. He was going to be a duke.