The massive gates leading inside the spire endured both shardgun fire and acid grenades. Anissa even tried to claw her way in, but no scratches appeared on the surface. The Taleteller gifted the steel a kiss, bulging tons of steel, and Janine found herself greeted by the automatic fire from the defenders. Bullets rained like pebbles against her armor, and she registered the presence of fifty people. She grabbed one and cursed as her captive howled in pain, the green of her coat catching fire. Janine’s fist closed, ending her life. Damn it, her armor was still hot. Restraint! Restraint, you moron! These people have done nothing to your pack—no torture!
She decapitated three guards, using the knob of her axe to kill the fourth in a reverse blow. The shaman leapt into the fray, thrusting her body through the opening in the gates. She grabbed a soldier and bit off his head, chewing the remains theatrically as red splatters dotted the guards’ helmets.
“Shaman,” Janine sighed, stopping herself from flattening a disarmed soldier. Her daughter impaled two guards on her claws and pulled the gasping bodies into her jaws. “Cannibalism is forbidden.”
“The Blessed Mother does it,” Impatient One replied, devouring guts.
“And if Ravager were to jump into the plasma again, would you follow her example, shaman?”
“Perhaps. It depends on whether the Blessed Mother orders me to do it or not.”
I fucking hate you sometimes, Yennifer. Janine wearily smirked. She, too, had a taste for human flesh. In a way, it had been ingrained in her psyche from the first days when she had been put in the pits and tasted the cubs’ flesh. In those dark days, pit fights often ended in death; it was simply the nature of things. You ended a life; you ate it, and you carried the deceased tribe member within you. These practices always horrified the Ice Boys, who kept their own young away from the tribe, coddling them.
Normies viewed eating deceased enemies as something abhorrent, and the Dynast supported their desire by banning the consumption of human meat nationwide. Fools. It’s not like the Wolf Tribe ate prisoners. Meat is always meat. But orders were orders, no matter how idiotic they were. If the big guy and the Blessed Mother wanted them to stop eating human flesh, Janine would strive to make sure her troops did not eat it.
“No more.” Janine’s blade touched the shaman’s neck, and her girl dropped the body from her paws, glaring hungrily at the rest.
The foes’ resistance ceased as Anissa and her scouts entered the fray. Surrounded by the giants clad in dark power armor, witnessing their superior speed and strength, the guards threw down their weapons and raised their arms. Janine said nothing to either of her daughters, but went directly to a man whose armor bore the markings of an officer, a purple cloak adorned with a golden crown. Janine thrust her muzzle into his face, enjoying the fear in his eyes at the sight of her fangs, and decided against grabbing him.
“Lead us to the queen, little man.”
“Only if you promise to sh-show mercy to my troops,” the guard stammered, his teeth chattering in horror.
“Granted. If it is within my power, I will ensure the safety of your troops, even at the cost of my life,” Janine stopped intimidating him. Loyalty to one’s kin was a kind of nobility she could respect.
She assigned two soldiers to tend to the wounded, and the rest escorted them. As they passed through the steel corridors, dimly lit by the yellow light, Janine could still taste the acridity in the air. Laborers or servants, men and women in white, yellow, and green hazmat suits, toiled in workshops, assembling energy rifles and exosuits. They reeked of fear.
“Who are they?” Janine inquired. While the color differentiated the suits, one piece remained constant. An iron collar around their necks. The warlord grabbed the nearest worker, dragging the teen closer. “What is the meaning of this iron?” She asked, tapping against the thing.
“Please.” The teen broke into tears, disgusting her by his weakness. he device emitted beeps that slowly increased in frequency. “Please, please, let me go; I’ll be good; I didn’t break any rules; I didn’t, I…”
“Release him!” Janine’s growl calmed her pack as the officer reached for his pistol and fired at her wrist. The beam did nothing; her paw shoved the teenager back into place, and she stared at the captain. The beeping stopped. “These people are mechanics and engineers. People who received a proper education in Her Excellency’s vocational school.” The officer broke eye contact and raised his hands to calm the workers. “Her Excellency gave them a lot, so if any of them try to run away without paying back, the explosive collar will go off.”
“And how long do they have to buy their freedom?” Janine asked.
“Until they die,” the officer replied. “Knowledge is the most valuable thing in the world, and the All-Seeing Majesty possesses the secrets of her craft.”
I’d tear my head off right away. Or I would sabotage the production rather than waste my life in slavery. Janine decided and called Dragena. “Update, sister. Techno-Queen’s holdings are full of slaves. Make sure that no one tries to remove them by force. Request immediate assistance from Captain Cristobo and Ygrite to aid in demining.” She relayed the video captured by her helmet.
“Ackno…”
“Concerned about the safety of the weak? How dull. I had hoped your kind would be more practical,” a female voice said through the static that interrupted Dragena.
“Who are you? How did you get on the secure channel? Identify yourself!” Janine demanded.
“Don’t get tetchy, mutie,” the unknown woman laughed in a honeyed voice. “You are the one arriving six minutes later than expected. You are in my domain now. Nothing here is beyond my reach. Hurry up, or shall I activate some collars to motivate you?”
Janine turned off the communication, fully confident that she knew who was speaking with her. They proceed down the corridors to a massive, industrial lift clearly meant to house a steel servant. Every single wall, every room, including toilets, had arrays of cameras stylized after human eyes. Their eyelids narrowed as the cameras traced the Wolfkins.
More cameras covered the walls inside the elevator, and Anissa stepped up to one and started cleaning pieces of metal stuck in her fangs, using the reflective surface of a camera’s window as a mirror. The pseudo-eye widened and closed shut. Anissa shrugged and went to another one, accompanied by the chuckles of her scouts as the officer pressed a button, sending the elevator up.
Janine expected a trap. She expected the elevator to fall, or explode, or spill poison and acid from the walls. She imagined hordes of steel minions prying open the roof, exposing them to the artillery fire from above. But nothing of the sort has happened.
The elevator reached the center of the tower, and the walls slid aside to reveal buzzing steel minions fluttering about the hangars. Workers labored diligently, assembling intricate technological components for installation inside a suspended steel servant. None of the workers dared look at the Wolfkins; fear of the minions watching them kept them at their tasks. Janine clenched her axe tighter as she spotted traces of blood on a wall.
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The elevator reached the top floor, and the nervous captain and his guards led them to the sealed doors. There were no traps, no sudden ambush, and no attack. The doors opened, and the group stepped into a chamber of steel, inhaling pristine, recycled, and cool air.
Their target was on the opposite side of the wide dome. A dais supported her simple steel throne. To her right and left was a row of quietly humming databases and servers, akin to advisers attending a ruler. Black tiles in the shape of a rhombus covered the floor in an orderly fashion. A single gold disc and two bronze discs adorned the center of the dome’s ceiling.
Tecno-Queen herself looked like a young woman, dressed in a light exosuit up to her neck. A purple cape flowed from her golden shoulder pads. A golden crown with a red ruby in the center held her short brown hair in place, while her mocking green eyes looked at the intruders. Her skin was too perfect; every trace of imperfection or scar had been surgically removed. A bowl of fruit sat on the arm of her throne, making Janine wonder where she got it. Trade, no doubt. But from whom?
“My queen.” The captain knelt. “I am sorry, but…”
“Stop groveling, Bors!” the woman replied, admiring the Wolfkins’ armor. “You think you could’ve brought them here without my knowledge? If they are here, it is because I allowed it.”
“Techno-Queen.” Janine brought her axe’s head to the floor, sending a tremor through the dome as an unspoken threat. “Your city has fallen. Your kingdom is in shambles. You have no choice but to surrender…”
“Well, you sure got two out of three correct.” The woman yawned. “This place is a wreck, true. I have little use for its continued existence.”
“My queen?” Bors raised his head.
“Yes, you heard it right, Bors. Have you looked outside?” The woman pressed something on her throne, and a holographic display flickered behind her, showing the toxic and lifeless surroundings of the capital. “Who in their right mind would want to rule over shit with a side of shit?”
“But,” the guard struggled for words, “my queen, you yourself unleashed the poison on our lands!”
“Naturally. It served my purposes. Now be quiet, Bors; I’d like to amuse myself talking to primitives.” The image on the screen changed, showing the ruined remains of the steel servants, as well as a few more still engaged in battle with the warlords. “This country merely served as a test polygon for me to get a grip on my power. Instinctively, I know how to assemble even the most complex machinery, but if you don’t polish your talent, hard work may get ahead.”
“Your toys are not very sturdy,” Janine stated at the sight of the wreckage.
“And that lack of comprehension is the reason why you would make a lousy scientist.” A smug smile spread across Tecno-Queen’s lips, and she stood. “Trial and error, both to push the limits of my imagination by creating compact weapons capable of fitting in inefficient frames and to test different alloys and weaponry. The designs showing promises are being stored in databases as we speak, the ineffective ones discarded. A brilliant mind learns from everything, failure included. The Reclamation Army’s fame is not unknown to the world at large. You freaks have certainly made waves. Discounting your spawner, your ilk are some of the strongest Abnormals in the known world. Yet here I am, crafting engines of destruction capable of ripping through your battle lines and making the fabled warlords break a sweat. And I’ve achieved it in less than twenty years, using bootleg technology and substandard resources! I had to build everything from scratch: factories, railroads, training peons so they could be of use…” Her smile briefly turned into a scowl, and then she flashed her perfect white teeth again. “Imagine what I could do with the proper funding and personnel. Any country will gladly take me in! Warlord Janine…”
“I didn’t say my name,” Janine cut her off coldly. A faint click in her helmet signaled the restoration of the command link.
Dragena said nothing, and Janine kept her silence too, trusting in her named sister’s ability to conjure up a plan that would turn the tables. Their cousins thought the Wolfkins to be stupid brutes. There was merit to it, but they forgot which group had first embraced ranged weaponry. Where the Ice Boys sought nobility in all things, the Wolfkins extended that courtesy to friends, family, and worthy foes.
For the mad, plagued by illusions of grandeur, an efficient kill would suffice.
“No, you did not, mutant. I took the liberty of listening to your secure channels.” The woman looked like a cub against the warlord. “I own everything here. Man, woman, child, mutant—it matters not. Everyone born in these lands is mine to spend as I see fit. So here is my offer. Compete against my latest invention. Should you win, I…”
“You are in no position to make offers.” Janine gripped the Taleteller’s haft.
“Am I, though? Foolish doggie, are you incapable of understanding the words I speak or oblivious of the situation at hand?” The woman inhaled. “Fine, I’ll take your puerile at face value. Act against me, and every laborer in my factories goes boom. I’ve made sure to show you steel minions on the way here. This is just the tip of the mountain. Disobey me, and they, along with the steel servants, will be unleashed against your rabble, claiming new lives. Oh sure, they’ll lose; I am not delusional, but it will be a hollow victory, no? Dead soldiers, no civilians, a ruined city… On the other hand, should you win, I’ll gladly surrender.” Techno-Queen raised a finger over a button on her throne. “So which of the two options do you prefer?”
“There is a third choice. I can kill you before your finger moves a millimeter.” Janine warned her. Techno-Queen arched a brow and burst into laughter.
“You can… certainly try,” she forced the words out, fighting back the fun. “Oh, Janine, you entertain me! Truth for truth. I learned the limitations of my body years ago.” A flash of anger worthy of a wolfkin flickered in the woman’s eyes. “And I’ve accounted for it, never to be helpless again,” she hissed and ran a hand over her face, calming herself and continuing in a pleasant tone. “This complex is fully automated. Go on, swing your axe, and find out how insignificant your reactions and speed are in comparison to the defensive systems implemented by yours truly.” Techno-Queen clapped. “Pardon the excitement, but you are so funny! It is to be expected from an ignorant savage, but I assure you, there is nothing in this world that I cannot break.”
“Can you break this?” Janine nodded to her axe. The smile faded from Tecno-Queen’s face. “It was not made by an AI or a powered person. Ordinary scientists made it as a joke. Can you destroy it?”
“Not right now,” the tyrant admitted. “But I can destroy you, and in time I’ll replicate the knowledge of how to manufacture whatever material is used in creating this lumberjack’s trinket,” Techno-Queen said icily. “If you think me a layman unaware of my limitations, feel free to flip that coin, but I assure you that this resistance will only bring you disappointment and the deaths of your soldiers. I’ll stay alive, and you’ll still dance to my tune. But I would rather you make the logical choice yourself.”
“I didn’t expect you to be a proponent of freedom. Is this how you became a queen?” Janine asked.
“Of course. I gave everyone the same choice as I had to make. Bors here can attest to the truth of my words.” Techno-Queen nodded at her officer. “If you blow enough people into a million pieces, even the dumb-dumbs will fall in line. Strong rule, Janine, this much your tribe of flea-ridden savages had gotten right. But enough pleasantries. Make your choice, Janine.”
Janine pondered for a moment, biding her time for Dragena to complete preparations. In truth, there wasn’t much of a choice here. What good is the land if there are no people? True, the Reclamation Army Reclamation Army subjugated those who refused to join, and in the earlier days they had made inexcusable mistakes that led them to vow never to repeat an act of genocide, never to completely wipe out cultures or nations again.
The nation forced cruel cultures, such as the Orais, to reduce their violence, but otherwise granted them a measure of self-government, fostering their upliftment through patience. The Dynast made his will clear. Under his banner, the Reclamation Army sought to integrate all. One nation. One world. An imperial ideal that slowly took over traditions, bridging people, showing that they weren’t so different after all, and no matter what the culture, parents wanted to see their cubs succeed and thrive. And by building this superstate, the Reclamation Army would eliminate any chance of another Extinction.
Thus, it was her duty to save the locals. Janine grimaced, feigning anguish over her decision and feeding the Techno-Queen’s ego. The Wolf Tribe’s members could not regenerate limbs like the Trolls. But the Blessed Mother bestowed upon them a unifying link, their power, which molded the winners of fierce battles into better versions of themselves until one day they reached their prime. Their innate aggression and desire for dominance stemmed from it.
She reached her prime years ago, and the doctors who regularly performed check-ups confirmed a heightened healing ability and significant physical changes in her organs. The burns on her knees and legs no longer bothered her. Janine grinned, welcoming the challenge.
“Bring it on.”