Chapter Twenty-Three
Visitors
“It’s your office,” Salem said proudly.
Nellie looked around the room and had to admit it was a significant improvement. The Captain’s Day Cabin on the Harbinger was clearly the inspiration, and she completely approved. This was much more ornate, of course, but the large desk of smooth metal and carbon looked halfway between art and an antique. The highbacked hair was inlaid with lines of shimmering silver that Nellie recognized as the nanites they were. The chairs opposite looked comfortable, if formal. And a long couch and chairs sat off to one side, with a matching coffee table between them. The walls were lined with racks for datapads and screens showing various information from around the Imperium. The side wall itself was clear, made of a transparent alloy that overlooked the main docks below.
In all, it was a room designed to intimidate and impress.
Nellie had been complaining about the conference room for weeks, and Salem had finally found a suitable place for a formal office. It wasn’t as good as being on the Harbinger, of course, but it was damn close. A little home away from terrifying-battleship-home.
It almost made up for this sudden meeting in the first place.
Today was supposed to have been Nellie’s closest thing to a day off in months. She had been planning a trip over to the next system to visit Lucy in person. The time apart had worked to smooth over the cracks, and she was more than ready to try living together again. Having Lucy there whenever either of them wanted to talk, but not physically present to argue with had made them both a lot calmer and a lot more understanding.
So, when Salem first contacted her, Nellie had been more than a little tempted to refuse to attend anything today. Then she heard who it was that was waiting to see her.
“Great work, Salem, really,” Nellie smiled. “Okay, you can bring them up now.”
Salem nodded and sent a short message to the guards surrounding their visitors. Going over to the large window wall, Nellie could see the heavy cruiser sitting off a little from the station, ringed with Imperium Destroyers, while the Harbinger loomed over it like a hammer waiting to fall.
She was still standing there when a small group was ushered into her new office. Turning—Nellie had to stifle a smile at how badass she would look framed against the stars—she saw their leader step forward.
“Queen Bonne Chance, thank you for agreeing to this meeting. I understand that this must all seem rather strange, considering.”
“It was a surprise, for sure,” Nellie nodded. “Would you like to sit?”
“Thank you,” he said. The man’s skin was deeply tanned, and he moved with the telltale stiffness of someone used to a planet's gravity. The Rest ran at a little higher than most planets, as did most ships. The result was that anyone who spent more time on a planet than in space moved with stiff, controlled movements before they adjusted. The grave expression didn’t seem to fit on a face clearly used to smiling, and he looked even more uncomfortable than she would have expected.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said quickly. “I am Eugene Clark, Headman of the Ember Hearth Clan. We are a member of the Twelve Families and are in good standing. Or rather, we were until a week or so ago.”
Nellie just nodded, letting the man go on. She still had no idea why a leader from the Confederated Planets had crossed into Imperium space with a single heavy cruiser. It was better to stay quiet until he got to the point.
“Are you much aware of what is going on in the Confederacy at the moment?” Clark asked.
So much for getting to the point.
“We understand that Cyrus of the Falling Waters, Admiral of the Ten Suns Fleet, was exiled to a distant moon, only to be freed and return with the aid of allies.” Nellie shrugged. “Battle lines are being drawn, it seems, and your alliance is on the verge of a civil war.”
“Yes,” Clark ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “But your information is a little out of date. The Civil War has started.”
“I see,” Nellie said, thinking of Crush and his people. They had been gone a while now, and if the civil war had broken out… she just had to hope her favorite Brackta could bring them through.
“A little over a week and a half ago, the forces allied to Cyrus made their first real strike. The First Light Clan, which basically acts as a central bank for the confederacy, called in all loans from the clans not allied to the True Confederated People’s Alliance.” Clark coughed nervously and swallowed. “Then, a few days ago, they attacked the Sand’s Embrace system. That was the last we heard.”
“And which side are you on, Headman Clark?” Nellie asked.
“None,” Clark said quickly. “Cyrus is a madman. I thought he wanted the best for us, but… he’s going too far. The man seems bent on taking everything by force.”
“And the other Clans? Why not go to them with whatever this is?” Nellie really could not understand what would bring him to see her of all people.
“My Clan sided with Cyrus early on,” Clark hurried on, “If I go to them, they will demand I turn over my land and people to them in recompense for their losses.”
“Okay, but why are you here?” Nellie frowned, her diplomatic persona slipping. Was this man incapable of actually getting to the damn point?
“He’s trying not to say that we would be part of what was seized,” A grey-haired, scowling woman growled. “The women of the Confederacy are considered property of their husbands. Our daughters, granddaughters, nieces, all taken and given as spoils.”
Clark winced, his head lowering in shame.
“Not something you wanted to say to a Queen?” Salem said coldly. “Imagine that.”
“It’s not just my family at stake here,” Clark said after a moment, struggling to meet Nellie’s eyes as she scowled at him. “My officers, my workers, everyone. They will all suffer for my stupidity.”
“Last chance to spit out what you actually want,” Nellie stood angrily.
“I want to make an alliance,” Clark said quickly. “I want you to support our system and people.”
“A defense pact?” Nellie paused. That might not be such a bad idea if these people had something she wanted.
“A bit more than that, I’m afraid,” Clark said, slumping in his chair. “That ship out there is our ONLY surviving naval craft.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Explain,” Nellie said, sitting back down.
While the man spoke, Nellie spun off a separate thought process to consider the best setup. Defense pacts had worked back on Earth. They were pretty much the only thing that did. Large bodies like the United Nations were slow, ponderous things. But the Warsaw Pact and NATO had held off nuclear war for decades. The Ember Hearth system was one of the border jump points to this system. A friendly, stable system there was in the Imperium’s best interest. On the other hand, being involved in the Confed civil war would mean being really involved. This would directly pull the Imperium in, rather than just leaving them to guard their borders.
Risk-wise, it was a wash. There was no chance Cyrus would live peacefully next to the Imperium. Even if they hadn’t caused his downfall directly, he was unlikely to consider them friendly with the woman who had, Hellena, serving in the Imperium.
In the long term, Nellie knew they would end up fighting the Confeds if Cyrus won out. In the short term, however, they were not under threat, and she was not responsible for what befell the Ember Hearth Clan or its people. They had their own way of doing things. That was their choice, not hers.
So, why did she hesitate? Nellie frowned. The real-time expression barely flickered as Clark talked.
A defense pact with people who could do nothing to aid the Imperium now or in the future was utterly pointless, but… there was another option.
Puppet governments were a distasteful idea. They definitely worked, but the people holding the syringe were almost never the good guys. It was a tool of tyrants and dictators. Her eyes roved around the room, seeing the anxious men and women from the Ember’s Hearth Clan, Salem standing politely off to one side and out the window to the ships waiting in the black.
If it was inevitable, she only really got to choose how and when. The good guys went in, trumpets blaring, flags flying. The bad guys were sneaky, operating from the shadows. So, which did she value more? Being the good guy or keeping her people safe?
For the past couple of months, Nellie had been playing the diplomat. Playing the good guy aspect up, but what did she really have to prove? That she wasn’t a rabid dog? She wasn’t. That she was a good guy? Did she really care if others saw her as the Nightmare Queen as long as they kept their distance? Deep in her heart—or Nanoforge, as the case may be—Nellie knew she WAS a good person.
It was time to stop playing at being the good guy and just be the right one again.
“How do new Clans form?” Nellie interrupted Clark’s flow but didn’t really care.
“New Clans?” Clark frowned. “Normally a formal declaration, witnessed by a Clan Headman from the Twelve Families. That makes the Clan official, and when the families meet, they ratify the Clan and allow them into the council.” He wiped his brow, “Why?”
“And what about changing the name of an existing Clan?” Nellie asked.
“Changing a name?” Clark nodded. “Much easier. The Clan Headman simply updates the central registry from one of their ships or planets. It can sometimes happen when high-level marriages occur, or a Headman dies, and the control of the Clan passes to a different family.”
“Salem, call Hellena to attend this meeting, will you?” Nellie asked.
“Hellena?” Clark paled. “She’s still alive?”
“You didn’t know?” Nellie smirked.
“She was reported to have died from her injuries after the battle,” Clark said, his voice shaking a little.
“Reported by who?” Nellie needed to know if they had some kind of spy in their ranks.
“Cyrus,” Clark said. “Lying bastard!”
“She is on her way now,” Salem replied. “I have authorized a microjump to the station. Perhaps some HyperDrive while we wait?”
A small and petty part of Nellie enjoyed sipping her coffee and watching Clark fidgeting in his seat. His reaction suggested that there was a relationship between the two of some form, and Nellie was quite looking forward to finding out what it was. Her name alone had sent a ripple through the little group, but they were wise enough not to speak out loud. The secret of nanite senses might be out after all the Ambassadors, Traders, and Merchants visiting.
Salem nodded a second before the door opened, and Hellena strode in.
“Uncle Clark?” Hellena stopped in her tracks. “What have you done now?”
Oh, family drama.
Fun.
Hellena shook off her shock with a slight flush, but Nellie couldn't tell if it was anger or embarrassment. She saluted smartly to Nellie and stood at parade rest.
“Want a cup of HyperDrive?” Nellie asked the Captain. She and the Songbird wing had been out guarding the other Confed jump point for weeks now.
“Yes, Ma’am, thank you.” Hellena smiled and took the cup, “I swear this stuff is addictive.”
Nellie chuckled and had Clark explain everything again. It was amusing to watch the alternating vindictive glee and rage on Hellena’s face. She was not a woman to make your enemy, Nellie thought. Not a forgiving bone in her body. By the time he was done, Hellena was nodding.
“Well?” Nellie asked.
“I love my people, Ma’am,” Hellena said carefully. “They are flawed and backward in their treatment of women, but I still care for them. Even after how they treated me.”
“I understand,” Nellie nodded. Family and where you came from were complicated subjects for most people.
“That said, I can’t recommend a defense pact or alliance with them,” Hellena drew herself up, standing rigidly as the Ember’s Hearth delegation looked at her in horror. “They have nothing to offer, Ma’am. And, frankly, Uncle Clark goes where the wind blows. If it turns back Cyrus’ way, he’ll go with it.”
“That’s pretty much what I thought,” Nellie nodded. “Which is why I want you to form your own Clan.”
She timed it perfectly, just when Hellena was taking a drink of coffee. To her disappointment, there was no spit-take.
“Ma’am?” Hellena asked.
“What?” Clark gasped.
“I want you to form your own clan with your own choice of people,” Nellie said simply. “And then I want you to ally with the Ember’s Hearth.”
“Leave the Imperium?” Hellena looked a little pale.
“Not at all,” Nellie smiled like a cat, letting herself have this one genuine moment. “I am suggesting you become a Drone and my representative. Then, you will form a Clan and return with Imperium tech to turn the Ember’s Hearth into a powerhouse of the Confederacy.”
“You would turn my system into some kind of…”
“Puppet state,” Nellie smiled again. She was enjoying it. “Any of your people who want to join the new Clan will be allowed, subject to Hellena’s approval, of course.”
“I came here for help!” Clark yelled, leaping to his feet.
“And I am offering it,” Nellie said mildly. “But not for free. If you don’t like the offer, feel free to reject it. No harm will come to any of your people. Feel free to return to your system as soon as possible.”
“And the best of luck with my father,” Hellena added.
Clark deflated like a burst balloon.
“Like I thought,” Nellie patted the man on the shoulder as she stood. “And cheer up, Headman Clark. You just saved your Clan.”
Hellena remained behind as the others were taken off to quarters where they could stay while the details were finalized. Clark had seemed to accept things quickly enough, and the relief from the rest of the party had been palpable.
“You really can’t trust him,” Hellena said once the door closed again. “I’m honestly surprised you trust me, but I suppose that is not going to be a problem in a minute.”
“You understand what becoming a Drone means, I assume?” Nellie asked.
“I do. Your people are insistent that everyone knows the pros and cons of becoming one.” Hellena took a deep breath and dropped to one knee, exposing her neck.
Resisting the urge to draw herself up like a vampire from an old movie, Nellie placed a hand on the Captain’s shoulder and extended the tendrils into her neck.
The number of nanites she could push into someone had significantly increased since she converted her brain as well. Hellena’s veins bulged out from her neck for a moment before her skin rippled and smoothed.
Hellena collapsed onto her hands as Nellie stepped back. Her breath hitched as the nanites replaced her heart and lungs and then continued at a much slower rate.
Gone were the days of slow conversion and the new Drone needing to build up a supply of nanites of their own. Nellie could do it all at once now, her own loss replaced immediately as fine silver wires dropped from the ceiling and flowed into her skin.
The process was completed, and Hellena stood, staring around in fascination at all the new things she could see. Nellie almost envied her the feeling. The world was a lot more colorful when you could see energy waves, magnetic fields, and the fine details and play of light beyond the human’s visual range.
“This feels incredible,” Hellena said, a broad smile on her face. “Thank you, Queen Bonne Chance.”
“You’re family now,” Nellie said, “Call me Nellie.”