Military Headquarters, six leagues outside of Xanadu City, Titan
The general of the mighty Titanian armed forces sat in her study alone, minimal lighting in the room save for a small, floating table lamp which just barely illuminated the space in front of her. Before her was a holographic planner which she used to take notes and keep track of dates. She had just received a notification from Major General Gwenael Vang. The lower-ranked officer put his hand up in salute at the beginning of the video conference, which the head general returned. Judging by the dark night sky and the sounds of a cooing common cuckoo in the distance, he was more likely than not to be in the Titanian’s primary Terran base in southern Yeupis.
“I am pleased to report that Subject 398304, formerly known as Colonel Ernest Kirchner, has been successfully relocated to an area of Yeupis north of the Marius Mountains.”
“Major General Vang, I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking.” the general said, knowing to put on a face of false civility.
“Of course, ma’am. Go ahead.”
“For what reason has it taken a month for a single internee to be transported to the site of its sentence?”
Though hardened by years of training at the prestigious Heimat Academy, Vang’s eye twitched as he tried his best to make up something in order to satisfy his superior.
“Well?” Rhona said. “Speak up. I gave you responsibility over the fate of all Titanian prisoners, and this one was just about the most important one. So tell me why it took so long for his sentence to be carried out.”
“It’s just… this type of execution has not been carried out in nearly two decades, since the reign of your father His Majesty Emperor Henrik. Finding the correct documentation regarding the process was difficult and we had to search extensively through the state archives to make sure we carried it out properly…”
It’s all an excuse for their laziness. They don’t want to take me seriously.
“Was retrieving the proper documentation the issue?” Rhona asked. “Well, in regard to that, and really, any other… unique situations you may come across in the future, I have a few words of wisdom to offer you.”
“Yes, General?”
“Fear can drive a man very, very far. Either away from a goal, or closer to it than ever before. Take these words as you will, but at some point, in your career, they will be vital to making some kind of important choice you’ll have to make. Also, have you checked up on Major Antelius’ status as of recently?”
“Yes General,” Vang said, using his years of training to continue a professional façade. “He will be ready for discharge from the hospital in the coming week.”
“Tell him as soon as you’re able to that he will be considered for promotion to Lieutenant Colonel in a year’s time. Although he was unable to complete his task in acquiring the asset, he gave us valuable information in assessing his whereabouts. I can trust him with private information, and I need an adjutant.”
“Consider it done, General.” Vang said.
“Thank you.” Rhona said, before cutting off the transmission. She folded her arms over her desk and rested her forehead on them.
“Adjutant? Who am I, a spoon-fed little noble girl who needs everything handed to her? Fuck, no. I can’t believe I told him that.”
Three knocks at her study’s steel doors put a stop to her brief reprieve from desk work.
“This is Lieutenant General Fabian Salomon. Permission to enter?”
“W-What?” Rhona sat up, somewhat startled. “Oh, yes. Come in.”
The sub-general stepped through the now opened doorway, his wavy blonde scalp covered by a beret identical to the one Rhona kept on her desk, the bulk of its length tied up behind his head in a bun. He walked until he was just in front of the general’s desk, then offered a salute, which Rhona reciprocated. He was one of a few people that Rhona allowed to salute without having to stop first in front of the doorway before proceeding forward.
“I’m here to deliver a report,” Salomon said. “Multiple nobles who own agricultural land on Mars complain of a slight uptick in labourer disorderliness as we begin the third quarter of the year. They desire more control of the harvest process over the Martian stewards who run them, who they believe are too lenient on their workers.”
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“That’s not a new complaint,” Rhona noted. “It happens every quarter. There’s always a slight uptick. Unless you want a violent revolt on the part of the labourers… I believe no action is necessary. So what’s the real reason you’ve come here for?”
“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Salomon admitted as he sat down in a chair in front of the desk. “You’ve looked better in past days.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Rhona raised an eyebrow.
“I’d be glad to take up any duties you decide to relegate.” Salmon offered.
“Now why would I do that?” the general asked. “A general’s work is a general’s work. I appreciate your kind gesture, though.”
“Rhona, you are not just the general!” Salomon said, nearly jumping out of his seat with frustration, a kind of frustration no other officers, even other general officers, would’ve dared display in front of their overarching leader. “You are the oldest able-bodied member of the ruling Karesti family, the regent of our nation, and the heir’s guardian. You have other roles to play. Get your head out of the gutter and let me do something for you. Please.”
Rhona externally did not appear to be moved by Fabian, but she knew he was right. As the senior-most Karesti family member of age of majority as well as the head of the military which greatly influenced the culture and politics of the Titanian Empire, Rhona had a sphere of control that few before her had. However, as much as she hated to admit it, it was a result of circumstances she had practically no control over.
“New Years’, 1016.” she muttered.
“S-Sorry?” Fabian wished for clarification.
“New Years’ 1016. Is that a good date for the conference that will decide the future of the meeting of our Empire’s agricultural needs to be held?”
“That’s… only a couple of months from now. Rhona, isn’t that going a bit too fast? You’ve only had control over the Empire for a decade, and our post-Civil War recovery is going at a steady pace. I don’t think you need to rush this.”
“Part of the aim of this conference is to address the Martian labourer question. And besides… I’d rather Halsten not have to work so hard as soon as he comes back. I need to tie up as many loose ends as I can before then.”
There’s three years until the first-in-line becomes age of majority, Fabian noted. That’s so much time to find the asset and restore Emperor Halsten.
“I see,” Salomon said without protest. “But please, don’t overwork yourself. You’re thirty-three. Your twilight years are approaching.”
“And you’re even closer, my dear lieutenant general, but you remain insistent on taking a share of my activities. That’s why I’m putting you in charge of the conference. Your job will be to determine a venue, attendants and security. Allow any prospective vendors to put in request proposals and review them with care. I’d also like for you to plan out the emergent stages once we discuss what’ll be announced at the conference with Central Council.”
“Rhona, really—
“You said you wanted me to relegate something to you, so I have. Do you still have objections?”
“No.” Fabian sighed.
A smile appeared on Rhona’s face. Fabian was puzzled as to why while she was being defensive nearly the entire conversation.
“This is why you’re my lieutenant general. You’re just as smart as the other high ranks, but only you have the guts to speak up when you think something’s wrong. There’s no blind devotion coming out of you, Fabian. You’re the only one who isn’t afraid of me for being my father’s daughter.”
None of the rest of having had the honor of growing up with her bastard of brother. Being fearful of her is humorous in my eyes.
“I am forever grateful to be at your service, General.” Fabian spoke instead.
“And I am eternally pleased to have you at my side, Lieutenant General.” Rhona spoke to the closest person she had to a confidant.
Fabian smiled, crossing his arms.
“You should pay the Royal Palace a visit,” he suggested. “Seeing family will bring spark back to you. Don’t let this bureaucracy get to your head.”
He patted the top of her head with his gloved hand, which she blithely shook away.
“I will, Fabian. Thank you.”
The lieutenant general gave Rhona a curt nod, before taking his leave. Once he was gone and had shut the study’s doors, Rhona pushed herself and her chair away from her desk and got to her feet. Two of the walls were covered by massive, floor-to-ceiling bookcases which contained both handwritten and flat, rectangular discs in plastic sleeves pertaining to the history of the military and classified files, many of which were held together in steel storage boxes. She approached a section that was about chest-level to her. She pulled out a storage box and removed the cover after placing it on her desk, unveiling unremarkable sheets of paper and plastic sleeves stack on top of one another.
She slid her hand against one of the inside edges of the box until she felt the bottom and removed all the box’s contents at once. At the centre of the purple bottom of the box, there was a thumb-sized depression, with grooves that resembled those of a fingerprint. She removed her right glove, then bit her thumb until it drew blood. She pressed the thumb into the depression, and the box made a clicking sound.
Something that the Utrium ‘bottom’ hid had become accessible to her.
A gap between one of the edges of the bottom and one of the inner sides of the box appeared. She pulled the surprisingly thin bottom out of the box. An object of flesh, bone, teeth and hair presented itself before Rhona, and she smiled.
Perfectly preserved with shut eyes and black tresses plaited into a three-stranded braid that would’ve reached the middle of its back, the severed Terran head found itself in the Titanian general’s hands.
“Did defending Terra ever get to you?” she asked the remains of the dead woman. “Ah, that’s right. You can’t speak anymore. Maybe I’ll just have to ask your kin once we acquire him. I’m sure even you apes can pass along blood memories.”