---LUDA, GOBLIN CONCUBINE OF LORD KLAR POV
I hear the flap of the tent shift to one side. “Has she talked?” The growling voice loses any authority as the last word ends in a whine.
“As you can see, staked out, arms broken, legs broken, and face ruined, she says nothing. She didn’t scream in pain, not even once.” I hear him spit. “She goes unconscious from time to time, though.”
The new arrival clears his throat. “I…” He pauses. “I know your troop suffered the most, yet…”
“She. Is. Not. Goblin. The hobgoblin and her slaughtered many of us, casual-like. She,” I feel his eyes on my broken body. “Slew many a bonded wolf, so those broken paired goblins still alive wish to repay her.”
“But this mess has said nothing, gave no explanation why they would target us?”
“Nothing.” Again, he spits.
“Give her over to those who wish to use her, if they don’t mind the blood and broken limbs.”
“I don’t think they will be that picky.”
The tent flap shifts with a snap of cloth as a couple of buckets of water splash on my face. The nanorobots in my blood harvest as much of this fluid as possible. My blood is the only form of clothing I wear. My torturer forgot to mention my three broken ribs, which my nanorobots now devote all their efforts to repair. As they busy themselves, the pain they have been blocking resurfaces, and before I am forced to cry out, I slow the healing to keep my pain silent.
“You two, go find some others who may be interested in payback and have them draw straws or something and get in line.” I hear a couple of grunts. “Tell them any who get too eager will have me to deal with as I want her used for as many days and nights as we can as the bitch needs to pay.”
The tent flap snaps shut once again.
I hear his belt loosen and his pants drop. “I will be your first, but no need to shed any tears when I am done, for I will return and renew our embrace.” He chuckles as I hear him kick his pants to one side and drop to his knees between my spread naked thighs. The leather throngs around my ankles tug on flesh and muscle as they have broken my shin bones. The meat of my arms, likewise, contains broken bones. My head, though, I can lift.
As his hands scratch at my breasts, I open my eyelids, breaking through a layer of moist, semi-congealed blood.
“It is good you wish to look upon my face because I don’t wish you to forget me.” He licks his lips and squeezes my breasts. The glob of blood I spit at him lands in his wide-open mouth. The second, while he is gagging, lands in his eyes.
He tries to speak but can’t. My blood contains nanorobots, and they hold the clot of blood together. The nanorobots graft my blood to his throat, which he naturally tries to cough out. This is a distraction, of course.
His eyes fly wide open as he realises his doom with a final clouded stare into my eyes. The nanorobots in the blood which struck his eyes dry them out while others reach into his brain. They all absorb moisture. I imagined the perfect outcome for my nanorobots. Just like Duzsia, copy what happened to my sister-wife, I command them. They obey.
His body falls on mine, and I command all the nanorobots I can spare to extract his fluid to energise themselves to heal me. The bone in my right arm is the priority, and I need to shuffle my broken body across to favour that side. My left arm, I am sure, besides broken bone, now has torn flesh and snapped muscle.
There is a commotion outside. They argue over me. When is their turn? The press of his body on mine reduces.
Strength returns to my right arm. Do I have enough of his water left? I must go forward. Another goblin needs to take me, so I must reset the trap. I will my nanorobots to slice through my wrist as would an axe. I moan, biting my tongue to suppress the pain my busy nanorobots allow to escape. The leather throng falls away, and the nanorobots on the hand side of my wrist work to stem the blood loss while I guide my severed arm to align and join.
The press of his body on mine is almost no more, only his shirt and dust. The commotion outside the tent settles. They instead brag about their future deeds, describing what they will do with my body in vivid detail. With my free and healed right arm, I fling his shirt and skeleton away to land in nearby tent shade. Next, I hand sweep his dust away as best I can and hope my waiting guest is just as eager for my loins as the first. My right hand grabs the leather throng as the tent flap opens, and a goblin head peers in.
“He said he will be back,” I whimper while nodding towards the rear of the large Troop Leader’s tent.
Dark beady eyes dart about the tent, looking but not seeing. “Well, he isn’t here now, so I will entertain you.” He licks his lips while staring at my loins. I try to squirm, turning my hips ever so shyly away from him. His eyes narrow in anticipation.
My coy helplessness draws him further into the tent. The tent flap closes behind him and once again conceals us from the rest of them. I momentarily wondered about this gift of privacy as I thought they would throw me among them. I inwardly smile. Arms and legs bound, naked and at their mercy, they thought I would be ripe for the plucking, and they would be safe from me.
His pants drop…
After seven more visits, my body was once again whole. None of them noticed my bruises fade. Perhaps they didn’t think my torturer would go so far? One of them wore a bandolier, which conveniently sheathed a knife. With the knife, I sliced the leather bindings underneath my bound limbs so that the leather would look sound from above. In hindsight, I was too cautious. Their eyes never strayed from my loins and breasts once they entered the tent. Their dedication to revenge themselves on me never diminished.
After fifty or more visits, the bones, clothing, armour scraps, jewellery and small weapons couldn’t stay hidden from even their distracted eyes. The last visitor proved the point. I needed to bounce up from my helpless position to drive a knife through his eye. The shock of seeing me free caused him to freeze, fortunately.
While searching the tent for places to hide their equipment, I found a chest containing my clothes, armour, and weapons. Once again, a warrior, I positioned myself on the right-hand side of the tent flap. They needed to sweep the loose flap to the left and raise their heads while entering.
The next goblin was no different, except he couldn’t explain how no nubile female goblin waited for him. Pressing a dagger to his throat and whispering, I informed him of the change.
“How many more wait their turn?”
“Few, ten?” His voice is thin, pitching high. He is not only scared but also young. His youth lends truth to his words. The veterans would demand priority, and perhaps the commotion outside at the start was the negotiation.
“Why has no one missed the ones who have visited me?”
His eyes dart about, and I feel his gaze pause as he locates pile after pile of possessions. “You… you killed them all?” His voice can’t hide his shock. “We all thought they returned to their tents to mourn… their wolves.”
“What of your wolf?”
He shakes his head. “No wolves. The Troop Leader thought we should join in on the…” His eyes find mine, and his head falls.
“No wolves? So why are you part of a troop?”
“We are the recruits. If we are fortunate, a wolf pup sniffs out one of us to bond with.” His head rises. “The Troop Leaders forbid us to go into battle until the pup grows, and we can ride them.”
I draw my dagger across his throat. “Sleep now,” I whisper. My thoughts return to Duzsia. Something went wrong. Her nanorobots turned against her, and yet mine didn’t. The mercenaries are no more. What remains won’t be a threat to Lord Klar, that is for certain. The more significant threat is the betrayal of the nanorobots. I need to return to Lord Klar and, all the while, wonder how many of my sister-wives still live this life.
---LINMERE, SHIFTER OF THE GPA SCOUT SHIP POV
“Have you connected with the GPA Observer Ship yet?”
His harsh voice slices through me once again, and I wave him away with an effort beyond what I think I am capable of. “The ship is over five hundred years old. To say the technology is old is an understatement.”
“Forgotten, backward arse, end of the universe,” he curses.
His stiff military boots clang on the metal alloy of the ship’s bridge as he returns and crushes his posterior into his captain’s chair. The design is fifty years old, and the construction one-year-old. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I curse my luck. The ship was on its final shake down mission, and as the assessing officer, the only reason for my being aboard. One of a standard crew roster of four, replacing the Marine Officer. What Spaceship would require crew protection in the backwater of protected space? One being declared “in service” because of an emergency of some sort, I dryly remind myself. I shouldn’t be here.
I couldn’t reveal the reason for my delay. The Observer Ship had issued a challenge protocol, having sensed my true nature. My heart is giddy with excitement yet fills with doom as well. The shifter mark, the five-hundred-year-old ship they sent us to investigate, was now one of ours. Most didn’t begin that way. Any conversion required the careful application of will. Only a practitioner with a high skill level would be capable of overcoming the logic technology the humans deployed within their spaceships. Yet, they all contained a backdoor because, unknown to them, GPAs could only be captured from seeing the light by using our magic. The trick was to grow this magic without triggering various logic alarms in the multiple systems of the ship. This required the command-and-control circuits to be targeted. The sub-functions could remain as technology.
Ingenious! My genetic code is the key, a specific strand… Oh! A key and a measurement. I answer using my will, and the system approves my access in less than a heartbeat.
Welcome, Guest. Know that our trust in you is absolute. So, your betrayal of us will be equally fatal.
I begin my review of the logs, official, mission, personal and hidden. This isn’t a manual task, as the magic of the Observer Ship feeds the information directly into my consciousness. My commlink no longer carries voice, and my uplink no longer connects to the Observation Ship’s computer.
Detected “seeing the light” natural born inhabitants.
We capture them as required by protocol to prevent return and possible rebirth.
GPA visits the planet as a native to investigate the source—one valley. Mission approved.
Finding: the now revoked mining expedition is the cause. The on-planet refinement of ores concentrated the waste, and this waste affected the biology of the native population, dubbed ‘goblins’ into having a greater than average statistical possibility in one secluded valley to produce “seeing the light” natural born inhabitants. Finding reported.
GPA planned a scientific experiment for control and containment. Experiment approved.
After several years of research between multiple years of hibernation for the experiments to mature, the GPA launches his solution. He creates hobgoblins by enlarging the physical form of the goblin base. Using a creative license, he ensures the two forms look different. He keeps the green skin pigmentation to encourage the goblins to accept the hobgoblin as their superior selves. Prototype nanorobots will control the actions of the Hobgoblins to ensure they will adhere to their primary mission. The nanorobots self-destruct on host death. They give the hobgoblins life by using goblin “seeing the light” captured spirits with their memory wiped and replaced with a simple creation myth and skills to complete their mission. Mission update to GPA headquarters provided.
Stolen story; please report.
Primary Mission: Promote conflict between the goblin tribes of the valley and any nearby tribes to reduce the population. Establish the valley as a hostile environment to any migrating goblins. Mission Approved.
I skip through the GPA’s multiple missions, which seem more for his enjoyment, bringing slaughter and mayhem as he spreads his Primary Mission to other valleys in the guise of a Ranger Hob. There are occasional updates to GPA headquarters, yet fewer than the number of visits. GPA Headquarters reprimands him and forces his spirit into stasis as punishment. He protests his innocence, swearing he reported every mission.
There are upgrades to the nanorobots during his missing years…
Oh. So sneaky… I muse to myself.
You were a clever Shifter. Using your will, you manipulated the nanorobots—one directive. Procreation. They weren’t to die on host death but seek living flesh to inhabit. They interpreted the method differently than she envisioned, though. The nanorobots during ‘life’ passed to a new host via male seed.
When GPA headquarters next allowed his Shifter to awaken the GPA from stasis, his experiment had literally developed a life of its own. I giggle, but I shouldn’t. After all, his Shifter sabotaged him, and GPA headquarters handicapped him. If he had visited the planet when next scheduled, he might have seen the change early and at least reported the anomaly. He may have prevented or at least detected the manipulation of the nanorobots.
The new unauthorised, dedicated, and purposeful Hobs were a means to an end. Farmer Hob is a noticeable irregularity, a hobgoblin that directly violated the goals of the Primary Mission. More goblins mean more goblins, procreation. Less killing means more goblins. Hence Head Hob to manage them. More food means more goblins, hence Smith Hob for farming tools and axes for clearing land.
One of his last official reports stated he had cleared one valley of all goblins by injecting growth nanorobots into a naturally occurring trapping creature until they were large enough to trap goblins. His current valley had three tribes remaining, a Chief Hob, Armour Hob and Hunter Hob, controlling them and their xenophobia. As a Ranger Hob, he displaced the Hunter Hob and sent him into the valley in-between to hunt on different tribal lands and leave trespass evidence of another tribe behind. The same basic plan he had used for the two previous valleys, division and then war, to weaken both, which would then encourage other tribes to subjugate one or both warring tribes along with an occasional annihilation.
Then Farmer Hob slew him! How was that possible? I discover a personal entry.
“… he suspects me of introducing the Head Hob, Farmer Hob and Smith Hob because there is no natural Hob procreation method, only hobgoblin flesh bags grown on the Observation Ship. Yet if he reports them to GPA headquarters, he knows they will investigate. If there is anything non-compliant, the circumstances around his previous stasis punishment will count against him, so his freedom is at risk as much as mine, so he seeks to solve the problem himself. I will stay vigilant to see if I can gain an advantage from his heroics.”
His death shocked him. While suspicious of his Shifter, he needed to tidy up the rogue Hobs on the planet first. With no hobgoblin flesh bags available, he returned as a goblin. Slain again, but the Farmer Hob, who acted the most on his initiative in the final valley, also died. His Shifter had taken direct action against him. The Farmer Hob was a hijacked GPA! She even selectively returned “seeing the light” goblins! The obvious three were the three Hobs, but her log mentions others. The audacity, a grandiose scheme impossible to design from the outset, yet using manipulation, then taking an opportunity, the combination soon gave life to the impossible.
Now, though, with the official GPA’s body death and spirit return to GPA Headquarters, questions are being asked.
Oh, I see the why now. She thought the imprisoned GPA would live for several more years before natural death. She devoted her efforts to recovering her magic and, while doing so, found herself more able to infuse her will into the Observation Ship’s Command-and-Control. Less will or magic meant less of a threat, or perhaps she sailed below any threat trigger? On the cusp of success, his sudden death occurred. She could have broken off her conquest, but even if she did, there wasn’t a flesh bag prepared to receive his spirit. Usually, there would be, but a by-product of her Command-and-Control conquest was the need to reconnect uniquely to each sub-system, and other systems were more important than flesh bag growing since she believed she had more time. She would know by now an investigation would be underway. What is she doing? How can I tell her she got lucky and I am onboard the investigating ship?
“Well, what have you found?”
I jump in my chair, his voice cutting across my concentration like a knife. “The GPA began by conducting approved observation and elimination experiments on the planet and then strayed, conducting unapproved experiments on the native population. For entertainment, it seems, but the exact reason eludes me. In any case, they started to go horribly wrong, creating a unique, non-native independent, thinking species. The natives then captured him on his last visit, and because of his previous visits, they thought him to be some divine being, so they imprisoned him and kept him alive. For years.”
The Captain coughs, and I hear the revulsion. “The money was on ‘going native’. This, though, regardless of his crime of experimentation, was an overly harsh punishment. What of his Observer?”
“I cannot contact her.”
“Maybe we have lost both of them.”
I swivel about, aware my face is in a state of shock. “Both?”
“His spirit was healthy, his mind shattered. Being a lost cause, they terminated his spirit. I can now explain. Keep digging. Once I report this back, they will demand information about the Observer.”
Time passes. I know our Scout Ship is closing in on the planet, and shortly, our destination will be visible. Without proof, I suspect she still works to restore command-and-control over the Observer Ship. Without contact, they will order us to board. With contact, I am unsure what the Captain will command, but I need to delay giving her every opportunity to gain absolute control over the Observation Ship. The outline of which is sharpening ahead of us. Despite that, he says nothing.
I re-examined the logs. “Captain, if I can’t find anything in the logs, will we have to board the GPA Ship?”
There is silence, and I glance over my shoulder. The colour drains from the Captain’s face. He blinks. Stares at nothing. In silence, he leans forward and lurches out of his captain’s chair.
“Captain?”
Three plodding steps later, I call again, “Captain!”
His head jerks in my direction. His eyes are wandering, their focus lost.
I stamp my foot. “Captain! What is wrong?”
“They have read my brief report based on your observations.” His face loses all signs of vigour. “Not only are we expected to board the ship to secure more information and hopefully the Observer, but, if necessary, we are to spirit transfer to flesh bags and descend to the planet. Once there, investigate and eliminate the anomalies unless we can devise a way to eliminate the rogue nanorobot infestation they believe is now responsible for this mess.”
I sink into my chair. We aren’t GPA. If we die on the planet, we are dead. We would need to complete whatever the mission is and return to the Observer Ship and reclaim our flesh. “Why can’t they send a proper team?”
“Too many know now.”
I observe him take several more lifeless steps. That is the actual issue. Even if we survive and seal off the infestation, more likely than not, our Scout Ship will develop a malfunction and kiss a star with us onboard.
“Where are you going?”
He pauses, nodding his head. “If you must know, well, you should know, I guess, because we both carry the same weight of responsibility on our shoulders. I am to discuss possibilities with our Ships Weapons Officer. Nanorobots concentration should be detectable from space. If the Scout Ship weapons can target the carriers of them, then we can simply shoot from far away.”
“How long will that take? To shoot them all, that is?”
He shakes his head. “Longer, I hope, than it will take to work out a survivable way out of this debacle with those who know and would prefer to eliminate loose ends.”
My mind freezes. Now I realise our actual predicament. We are to eliminate the infestation, but our lives could be forfeit because we know too much.
---SCIENCE AND WEAPONS OFFICER POV
I listen to the ravings of the Captain. He has a plan, but all I hear is termination or a need for planet landfall, risky combat and then termination. There doesn’t seem to be a way out… sweat rolls down my face.
The sting of his slap brings me back to the present. I stare into his eyes, but the madness I find in them is like looking into the sun, blinding. My eyes turn away, seeking relief by reading my instrument panel. He grabs my chin between his fingers to correct my errant gaze.
“You will find a way to target the nanorobots, mister. There is no room for failure, and time is running out because when we can dock with the Observer Ship, we move to Plan B.”
Through my haze of panic, my lips frame but don’t speak the words planet landfall. I trained as a Ships Weapons Officer to avoid plant landfall.
“But we have no interactive armour…” My voice trails off as he swivels about after a military snap of his boots, and all I see is his back. He leaves, his stomping boots echoing off the metallic floor of the Scout Ship.
I can gripe or work…
Life signs are the easiest to detect. Fortunately, there is only one continent. I probe the deep layers of the planet and understand why. Three tectonic plates have slammed together, forming adjoining mountain ranges, the middle plate the widest and mostly plains before. Many life signs transverse this middle plate, migratory animals for sure. I add the goblin profile from the species database and overlay it onto the life signs. All the life signs, bar a few specs, disappear from the plains between the mountain ranges.
The goblins occupy the valleys on either side of the plains. They favour the western side, though. The population density in each valley is different. I apply some generic hunter-gatherer population density statistics, and the overwhelming number of valleys match tribal cultures. Among these, some in other valleys and some within the same valley have a density bordering on the beginnings of civilisation, mainly those further north, oddly.
Nanorobot density is another parameter that I overlay. We aren’t in orbit yet, but as the continent comes into view, the glimpses of data I receive show scant goblins with nanorobots. What am I supposed to find?
As if on cue, his heavy footfalls ring in my ear. “What can you find to save us?”
I sigh. No pressure, then. “I can locate goblins, goblins with nanorobots and conveniently, they are all between two mountain ranges, mainly occupying the valleys to the west.”
He wrings his hands before placing them behind his back. “We need to detect hobgoblins. Active nanorobots. GPA headquarters doesn’t want to eliminate goblins. Politically incorrect, you see, as they are the native inhabitants. The hobgoblins are the mistake.”
“There isn’t an entry in the species database for hobgoblin… Sir.” His eye glaze over. “Nanorobots, active or not, would require an atmospheric survey to target with weapons. We would be visible to the inhabitants… Sir.”
“Visible, you say. Well, unacceptable. Find a different solution.” He casually waves a hand towards me. I am certain his mind is elsewhere.
“Hobgoblin species?” I ask.
He paces, hands behind his back again. “Two options. The Observer Ship will more than likely have the species. Otherwise, we will need to fetch a specimen.”
More than likely? What does that mean? “Captain, wouldn’t the Observer Ship, belonging as it does to the GPA, have already uploaded the hobgoblin species?”
He bends over, laughing. He has no restraint, and I must wait for the awkward moment to pass. When he does, his face is stoic. “You would think, wouldn’t you, but now you see our problem?” He raises his eyebrows. I return a blank-faced stare. “Perhaps not, given you are new, second tour, third?”
“Third Captain.”
“Someone has discovered a mess. Breach of protocols, one or several.” He favours me with a forced smile. “The tidy-up has begun, purging of the obvious first. We four, and perhaps the observer on the Observation Ship, are the only ones who now know they exist, have ever existed. You understand now, Weapons Officer.”
I swallow but fail. My throat is dry. “Tidy up, sir?”
“I am glad you are aware because they could sweep away us in their haste to protect more important persons than ourselves.”
I observe his back as he leaves my presence. Crisp uniform jacket hanging off straight military shoulders. He marches as if his adherence to the familiar will rescue him and us from almost certain death.
---ENGINEER AND NAVIGATION OFFICER POV
“Report!” he snaps at me.
“Ships manoeuvring rockets optimal, sir.” My voice breaks high. He is behind me, standing over my station. I know he resents my presence. I placed one-hundred and fifty-second in my class. Mediocre. My chair swivels about, and we face each other, his hands on the arms of the chair, and our eyes lock.
“Miss, they had better be optimal. We are about to dock with a five-hundred-year-old Observation Ship. The docking of our airlocks should equal the gentle kiss of your lover’s lips to the most sensitive and erogenous part of your body. You understand?”
Warmth reaches my cheeks. “Yes, sir, you can depend on me. We are in orbit now and approaching the Observation Ship. I am about to match rotation.” I force confidence into my voice. My ambition is to be assigned to a spaceship permanently instead of being used as a spare for tests or break-in missions and then returning to the space dock to wait. His report on my performance will influence my prospects, and I am determined to shine.
I notice the bead of sweat on the Captain’s top lip. Being this close, how can I not? He withdraws to his captain’s chair. “Steady as she goes,” he says.
The Assessor is lying back in her chair, an electronic skull cap in place for hours, only breaking for food and water. And the other reason. The Captain stares at her when he has nothing else to attend to. What am I missing?
“Ed,” I whisper into the commlink.
“Not now,” he replies after I call him three more times.
“Just tell me what’s going on!” I don’t know if he knows, but the Captain left his chair for a time and apart from food, water and waste, the only thing left was to visit Ed.
“We are dead. Complete the mission. We are dead. Fail the mission. We are dead. Satisfied? Now leave me be.”
I make several more attempts, and then his commlink is shut down. No means no, then.
Checking my instruments, I determine it is time. I press the autopilot. Behind the button press, the airlocks of both ships are negotiating, and to my surprise, the lock on is quick. The Scout Ship rotates and adjusts alignment immediately after. Aggressive airlock?
“Steady, Miss,” he calls out.
The two ships are one, and no one knows except me because only my instruments glow in confirmation.
“We’re docked, Captain.”
He shudders and climbs out of his captain’s chair. “Miss, stay and monitor everything. Linmere with me.”
The Assessor turns in her chair. “Shouldn’t you and the Weapons Officer board first, and then the rest of the crew follow once you give the all clear?”
“No. Follow me.”
P.S. If you are not reading this chapter for free on Royal Road or Scribble Hub, then the website you are on has stolen my story.