Writing Prompt: “We’ll use poison.”

Lord Alejandro Nguyen, Fifty-third successor to the Nguyen House, listened to his contemporaries bicker in the Senate. It happened quite often- all the time, really- and idly wondered if anything was ever actually accomplished. During his tenure, he had yet to see a single bill actually pass.

“The commoner reproductive rate in habitation blocks forty-three through seventy-two is too high.” Lady Claude announced crisply, slotting a data chip into her terminal, projecting a holographic image of Hive Al-Omeg on the primary screen. Several large blocks of habitation zones flashed red warningly.

Nguyen eyed Lady Claude- her husband had recently died from excessive drug use. Her House had also lost one of their daughters to the Cathedral. While Lady Claude was a relatively new leader, stepping into the role her late husband had vacated, she was no pushover.

The woman continued her presentation. “What shall we do to regulate this unrestricted growth?”

Lord Chrysdam rolled his eyes ostentatiously. “As if this needs to be discussed.” he replied disdainfully. He levered himself upright with a silver and ivory cane. “Since you’re new to your position, I shall deign to provide instruction: Things like this happen frequently. The solution is a simple one, one that has worked for more than fifty generations. We’ll use poison. That will cull the dreck down to acceptable numbers again. If too many of them die, all we need do is wait: they are nothing if not prolific in their breeding.”

Lord Darren stood up, his grey hair a wispy cloud around his head. “There’s no need for poison this time.” He replied, his normal quiet voice stern. “There is a steep drop in production from the agri-plant blocks.” He announced, and another image of Hive Al-Omeg appeared on the screen, showing different blocks flashing yellow. “In order to ensure correct production levels, all we really need do is migrate the excess population there.”

Lord Chrysdam grimaced. “Of course you would say that, new blood. It’s a well-known fact that you have ties to agri-production. Do you intend to bleed our coffers dry with your fleecing next?” He sneered caustically.

Your House wasn’t considered to be a proper House unless it was at least fifty generations old, Lord Nguyen mused quietly to himself.

Lord Darren’s House was considered ‘new’ because it was only twenty generations strong, and they had only ascended to Nobility by leveraging their knowledge of agri-farm production to the point where they were impossible to ignore.

How he had seized the distribution of foodstuffs to the commoner hab-spires was known, but how he had managed to seize control of the distribution routes for the Nobility was still a mystery. House Darren was not particularly villainous, however. As long as contracts were clean and equitable, he would deal with anyone, including the Cathedral.

Nguyen tapped out a simple message to his wife and sent a copy to his daughter as well. His family was Cathedral supporters. Once a generation, a daughter was donated to the Cathedral for training and education.

*****

“What are the Sisters of Al-Charon thinking?” Knight Irene’s voice came over the comms to Jeanne, even as she triggered her plasma lance, sending a brilliant miniature star through the whirling sands. A scream shivered out of the open comms channel, abruptly severed.

Jeanne’s mouth twisted. “A Hive has to be strong.” She replied, scanning for any more targets. “The Cathedral of Al-Charon probably decided that our own Cathedral was weak enough to muscle in and take control.” she added.

“You don’t need to coddle her any longer, Knight Jeanne.” Hellena’s crisp voice echoed across the comms.

“Huh?” Jeanne frowned, surprised at the sudden communication from Irene’s historically laconic Smirtka.

“The sourpuss Hellena has a point, Jeanne.” Evelína sang in Jeanne’s ear. “Irene holds the same rank and responsibilities that you do- she should be able to figure this out for herself.”

Irene’s audible grimace came across the comms clearly, despite the radiation in the air.

“Come on, Irene. You’ve heard them. Let’s hear your assessment of this battlefield.” Jeanne ordered, even as Evelína called out an additional detachment of war trucks.

“Solid ammunition.” Jeanne ordered Evelína as she scanned the vehicles. “Target their sensor packages. Let’s see if we can capture a few warm bodies that we can persuade explanations from.”

“A detached force isn’t likely-” Evelína began, but stopped. “These are newly manufactured, Jeanne.”

Jeanne nodded silently. Most raids from other Hives involved motley collections of repurposed vehicles with jury-rigged weapons and scavenged parts, crewed by barely-skilled raiders hoping to overwhelm a poorly-defended Hive with wave tactics and improvised weapons.

These were war machines built along existing Custodian patterns, with no sign of improvisation. Al-Charon was serious, sending dedicated forces against Al-Omeg.

“Things have just gotten serious.” Jeanne muttered.

“As if the appearance of sister-knights on the battlefield wasn’t serious enough.” Evelína remarked sarcastically.

“Your analysis, Irene!” Jeanne called.

“...They know.” Irene complained. “Somehow, they know.” She hissed.

“...Go on.” Jeanne urged, looking over the terrain as the detached force of tanks grew in size on her display.

“They know the Cathedral’s been compromised in Al-Omeg.” Irene griped. “This is a cooperative effort between the Nobility and the Cathedral of Al-Charon. The Nobles- well, they’re Nobles. The Cathedral... they at least expected that we would be weakened, or... at least we wouldn’t be able to fight back- the ability to fight between Knights is typically locked out, after all.”

Jeanne nodded at Irene’s assessment. “Good analysis.”

“Who could have told them?” Irene complained.

Jeanne barked a laugh at that. It was obvious.

“Okay... here’s the strategy.” Jeanne decided, speaking to Evelína more than Irene. She indicated the icons of the tanks in sequence. “We do this, the bulk of their forces will be boxed in by their own tanks and be unable to maneuver.”

Evelína began humming a war song as she began calculating firing solutions.

“By the way, Irene.” Jeanne called absently as she focused her attention on the plans that were beginning to be calculated by Evelína. “You did confirm that there are no more Sisters out there, right?”

Irene growled a complaint across the comms again. “Checking now.” She confirmed.

“Assault drop detected-” Evelína warned and Jeanne kicked backwards, wholeheartedly believing that Evelína would correct her posture, even as she toggled the dataset for close quarters weapons.

“Tsunami Helix.” Evelína called even as the unknown Knight slammed down right where they’d been a scant second earlier.

The unknown knight deployed the iconic blades and an unfamiliar woman’s voice barked across the vox.

“Stand down, Sister. The Cathedral of Al-Charon has authority here.” The Knight warned.

Jeanne briefly considered talking to the young woman, but instead spun up the Helix.

The furious growl of the gun surprised Jeanne, who hadn’t used it before; the shocked gasp across the vox showed the knight wasn’t prepared for the shattering roar or the hail of slugs that battered the Knight away.

“Keep me close- and don’t lose track of those tanks.” Jeanne barked to Evelína. “Let’s knock her down.”

“You intend to capture a Knight of Al-Charon?” Evelína asked, mystified.

“I dunno yet.” Jeanne mused, eyes flicking to the high-end communication bands that the Smirtka used to communicate with each other.

“Dump some cogitator-” Jeanne began, but Evelína laughed. “I’ve been broadcasting them since this whole battle began, Jeanne.”

Jeanne sighed, even as she kicked the Knight prone and held the knight down with a booted foot. “You’re a monster, Evelína.”

“I’m your monster, Jeanne.” Evelína sang back. “Firing solution calculated, by the way.”

“For the tanks? From here?” Jeanne asked curiously.

“This is not an ideal firing vantage, but I have-” Evelína cut off. “Recalculating.”

Jeanne toggled her vox and eyed the fallen Knight. “You are in violation of more precepts of the Cathedral than I can name, Knight. You will disarm immediately. Failure to do so will be regarded as an act of sedition against the Cathedral of the Lunar Princess. You will be executed and your Smirtka dismantled.” Jeanne demanded, inwardly wondering how many times she would have to say this to traitor knights.

“You- You are the seditious one! You shouldn’t even have the ability to attack me!” The unnamed knight spouted back.

“Yeah, well...” Jeanne offered back, and shrugged. “...hunting down rogue sisters has created a necessity.” She finished lamely.

“Firing locks re-established.” Evelína sang. “Commencing bombardment.”

The heavy gun mounted on Evelína’s shoulder began firing, subtly changing its firing arc as it corrected for each shot.

“Irene, what’s your status?” Jeanne called.

“I’ve downed two more sisters with plasma ordinance, and swept the valley with a missile salvo.” She called back. “Plasma is on recharge cycle; Hellena is calculating an Assault Drop.”

“Blessings of Luna, sister.” Jeanne called.

“Any chance of reinforcements?” Jeanne asked Evelína.

“Comm squirt from Abbess Paladin Abigail: Knight Galatea inbound.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Jeanne grimaced. “Galatea?” Jeanne shouted unintentionally. “She’s barely a Knight- just got her Heavy Ordinance!”

“She is a knight, Jeanne.” Evelína replied soberly. “She is a Knight, and you should recognize that. She may not be as experienced as you, but she is a Knight.”

Jeanne sighed. “You’re right.”

“...your Abbess is a Paladin?” The young knight under Jeanne’s boot asked hesitantly. Jeanne swore quietly, realizing she had forgotten to toggle the comms off.

“Yes, yes she is.” Jeanne shot back testily.

“I am Knight Eva. My suit is Nina. I would like to speak with your Abbess, please.”

“Evelína, make the request.” Jeanne agreed, and togged her screens to show what Irene was up to.

It appeared as though Irene was moving as Jeanne had taught- in short, quick bursts, flitting across the battlefield quickly.

“A relief.” Jeanne muttered, and checked on the tanks she’d pinned down.

“Looking good. Prepare the second bombardment... here.” She ordered, selecting a second arc of tanks.

Part of her was aware of the conversation between Abigail and Eva, but most of her focus was divided between Irene and the tanks, which had slowed to a crawl as their sensors went dark, one by one.

It was difficult to navigate in the Wastes without at least some sensor support, the radioactive dust and storms that generated a ferocious amount of lightning made it next to impossible to do it blind. Plus, with Evelína broadcasting her electronic warfare, pinning down the tanks was a lot easier.

“Wait. Warn Galatea to harden her defenses against your broadcast.” Jeanne warned Evelína.

“Too late!” Evelína sang cheerfully. “Knight Galatea is currently down.”

“Merde.” She swore softly. “Send the datasets for her to completely block out your little mayhem.”

“I refuse.” Evelína sulked. “Smirtka Yuma needs to learn to interdict and counter such things on her own.”

“Yeah well, inoculating her after she’s been infected is a quick way of teaching her how to fight back.” Jeanne replied testily. “Now do it, or I’m going to start seriously looking for a new Smirtka.”

Evelína went silent, then.

“I will surrender to your authority.” Knight Eva called. “I will disarm if you allow me up.”

“Tsunami Helix.” Jeanne ordered, liking how it pounded Eva so aggressively at point-blank range.

A silent warning popped up on Jeanne’s display; deploying the Helix would require redirecting materiel from the heavy rifle.

Evelína was giving her the silent treatment, eh?

“Tear down the Heavy Rifle and give me the Helix. Harvest resources.” Jeanne decided.

A silent message indicated that Galatea was inbound.

Evelína displayed a progress bar for material collection- the Plant part of the Smirtka battlesuit was able to synthesize weapons and ammunition based on comprehensive datasets- but the materials for ammunition had to come from somewhere.

Using processes that weren’t fully understood by even Plant Engineers, the Smirtka could take in ambient matter and somehow convert it into usable materials for munitions. It wasn’t an instant process, and sucking up dust was woefully inefficient, but there were now three Al-Omeg Knights on the field.

“Knight Galatea on the field.” the young knight chirped as she dropped from above, digging a small crater from the impact.

Younger knights loved the Assault Drop, never mind that it made them an easy target by throwing themselves into the sky. Even an unassisted human could shoot- and hit- such a visible and vulnerable target. It was showy and dramatic though, so it was a phase they all went through. Even Jeanne went through it.

Jeanne refocused on her task. “There’s a number of Custodian-class tanks and weapons platforms pinned down-” she sent the coordinates to Galatea- “Over there. I’ve disabled their sensors, and Evelína crippled them with cogitator virus broadcasts.” Galatea muttered something that was transmitted, but inaudible. “The goal is capturing human targets for interrogation, as well as securing those tanks.” She paused. “Free tanks are always a boon.”

“All right.” Galatea replied simply.

“And no Assault Drops if you’re within firing range of those tanks. If any of them get a firing solution on you, you’ll be very dead before you hit the ground.”

Galatea offered a much less spirited acknowledgement, and moved to launch herself into the air, but paused.

“I was ordered to give you munition blocks before I was sortied.” Galatea mentioned, and her Smirtka obligingly disgorged several metallic blocks of minerals before she launched herself into the air.

“Not bad.” Jeanne agreed, assimilating the materials.

“Irene.” she called. “Status?”

“Primary threats neutralized. Secondary threats neutralized. There are no more Sisters on the field.” Hellena reported back crisply. “Currently in cooldown.”

So Irene had to push herself to finish her objectives.

“Combat effectiveness?” Jeanne asked as she plotted her course back to Al-Omeg.

“Plasma in cooldown. Jetpacks in regenerative cycle. Solid munitions expended. Reactor nominal.” Hellena reported.

“I have munition blocks I will surrender to you.” Knight Eva offered.

“There you go.” Jeanne agreed.

“Knight Irene has suffered significant damage and is incapable of further action. I have induced a coma and I am performing surgery.” Hellena reported back.

Adrenaline washed over Jeanne as shock drove a spike in her heart. “She’s hurt? Is she okay? Should I-”

“All objectives on this battlefield have been achieved, Knight Jeanne. As soon as I am free to move I will transport Knight Irene to the Cathedral for assistance.”

“All right, tanks secured!” Galatea chirped. “Three managed to self-destruct.”

“You managed to do all this with just three Knights?” Eva wondered across the comms.

“Two, actually. Galatea is reinforcements.” Jeanne replied absentmindedly, pulling Irene’s life-support data from Hellena.

“I can see why Al-Omeg has successfully repelled intruders so well.” Knight Eva replied admiringly. “There were five sisters on our side.”

“Request reinforcements and-” Jeanne began to Galatea, but was cut off.

“Already put in the request, Knight Jeanne.” Galatea cut her off. “Transports are en route. This area is secure, you should be fine to secure the Al-Charon knight at our Cathedral.”

“I don’t much like the idea of leaving Irene unattended.” Jeanne muttered.

“Irene is fine.” Hellena replied crisply.

Jeanne let out her breath in a hiss of frustration. “Fine. Knight Eva, you’re with me. Evelína, let everyone know their roles. And stop this ‘silent treatment’ bit.”

“As you command, Knight Jeanne.” Evelína replied, in a stilted, mechanical voice.

“Eva, I’m going to put you in an administrative weapons lockout. Smirtka Nina, you will accept the lockout.” Jeanne commanded, and both agreed willingly, which caused Jeanne to raise a thoughtful eyebrow.

Eva and Jeanne entered the Cathedral’s hangar without incident.

“Welcome home, Knight Jeanne.” Evelína sang. “Rad counts are normal, air is breathable, if you don’t mind the smell.”

“Ha.” Jeanne replied. “Give me an anti personnel rifle when I disembark.” She replied, and could see on the screen Evelína formulating one.

“Disembark.” Jeanne ordered Eva, who easily complied.

Jeanne led Eva through the Cathedral, Eva looking around wide-eyed at the fortified chapel and the rows of statues of heroic Paladins.

Inside the Abbess Paladin’s office, Eva offered a respectful, formal bow, and presented the Paladin with a data chip.

“Knight Eva of Al-Charon reporting as ordered. Here’s the data you requested. I submit myself for trial... however, I would also like to submit a request for asylum and repatriation.”

Jeanne stiffened. Eva wanted to defect to this Cathedral? She unconsciously raised her rifle, the barrel pointing directly at the back of the young Knight’s head.

“Stand down, Jeanne.” Abigail ordered. “I’ll consider your request. For now, you’ll be confined to a cell until a convocation of Paladins can be convened.”

Eva nodded, surprisingly showing little resistance. Two neophytes appeared as if by miracle or magic and led Eva away. Abigail tapped the chip that Eva had delivered to her on the desk thoughtfully.

“Do you know what she gave me?” Abigail mused. “That young woman gave us the keys to the kingdom.” She answered before Jeanne could respond. “If we weren’t so understaffed and...” She paused, “...unreliable, we could march right into Al-Charon and take control. Expand our influence.” She swore and kicked her desk.

“Knight Galatea let me know a few things, things Lord Nguyen let us know. A useful man, and faithful to the Cathedral. It’s time to remind the Nobles that they’re here at our sufferance.” She declared.

She paused, the greedy, predatory expression slipping from her face.

She looked towards Jeanne with a thoughtful expression. “You’re the only active senior Knight. There’s a few on the Paladin Council that are advocating your promotion.”

Jeanne stiffened. A promotion to Paladin? A significant honor. “I ... don’t know how to respond to that.” She replied awkwardly.

Abigail barked a grating, mechanical laugh. “You don’t have to. I’ll keep you here, right where you’re needed.” She tapped out a few commands into her desk, which obligingly spit out another data chip, similar to the one Eva had handed to Abigail.

“Feed these datasets to ... your obnoxious partner.” Abigail ordered. “And if you care about such things, you might tell her that... whatever she and Nike has been doing has apparently worked. Congratulations are in order.” She paused. “I think.”

Jeanne adopted a queasy look at that. It wasn’t often that Smirtka tried to reproduce, and the chances of success were slim, since the Plants used in the cultivation of Smirtka battlesuits were so specialized. But the results were useful when successful, a fully-functional Seed that didn’t have to be cultivated in the Cathedral’s Garden. It could be integrated into the mechanical shell much quicker than one that was grown.

Jeanne wondered at what sort of... offspring the eccentric Evelína would have created, shook her head, and jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the door.

“Yeah, you can leave. You should think about saluting from time to time.” Abigail grated at her.

Jeanne left for the hangar, bouncing the chip on her palm.

*****

It wasn’t often that all the Nobility were summoned to the Council chambers, most dealings were handled by private arrangement, or through comm channels, obviating the need for the use of Council chambers, but The Chambers were a place that the Nobles could congregate, ostensibly to do their job in a publicly visible place.

This time, a Cathedral Paladin was there, in her terrifying battlesuit. The death’s head picked out on the face, limned in silvery fire, black and polished chrome. Weapons mounted on the shoulders hummed perceptibly, and the whole thing radiated an aura of malevolence and barely-restrained violence.

As the Nobility filed in, chattering amongst themselves, each of them saw the Paladin and adopted expressions of irritability, sick queasiness, or fear. It was one thing to know that the Cathedral’s ‘Terminatrix’ existed, it was quite another to see one in the flesh, in their council room, waiting for them.

“So who was it that called this meeting?” Lady Claude asked Lord Darren curiously.

“Lord Nguyen asked me to.” Darren replied in a low voice. “Apparently it’s a matter of such importance that a Paladin was dispatched from the Cathedral.” He added with a very small, subtle gesture towards the menacing death-machine.

Lady Claude put a finger to her lips thoughtfully, but said nothing as she waited for the rest of the Nobility to finish assembling.

“Since we’re all here,” Lord Chrysdam opened, “I think it best we discuss the problem of-”

“You are here because we have commanded it.” The voice that boomed out across the Nobility Council room was harsh, grating, and mechanical. “It will be a one-sided conversation.”

Lord Chrysdam gulped, but opened his mouth to object.

“The Cathedral makes the following demands.” The voice continued in that grating, warped voice that jarred in the ears. “First, you will turn over the traitorous Knights that you have sheltered. Second, you will surrender all of your children under the age of ten to the Cathedral.” The Paladin continued relentlessly.

“The Cathedral will solve the problem of your disloyalty to the Spire and to the Cathedral simply: We will use poison. You exist at our sufferance. Your houses are allowed to flourish at our indulgence. We will release contraceptive toxins into the Nobility spire and we will allow your Houses to die out, at which point the Cathedral will emplace new Houses, ones that remember their fidelity to the Cathedral, to the Spire, and to the Lunar Princess.”

Lord Chrysdam made a strangled, gobbling noise in his throat as he attempted to process the declaration from the Cathedral’s paladin. All the other Nobles wore looks or terror, faces greasy with sweat.

“Y-y-you can’t do this!” He managed to choke out.

“The Cathedral has done this before, fifty generations ago. We will do it again, as often as necessary, to preserve this Hive in the Lunar Princess’ holy name. You have one week to comply.”

The paladin turned and strode out of the Council chambers, the mechanical footsteps making thin cracks in the artificially processed stone flooring.