The Serpents and the Skulls, Chapter 5.1
02 May 2017Michael Wolfe
My mistress slept no more for the rest of that night. Despite her order to wake Glaboski and leave her in solitude, I couldn’t help but to remain outside her bedroom door, listening to the muted sounds of her speaking to people who weren’t there. Marra was only like this when she was under stress, and the burdens of leadership were many.
And yet…
Why she had gone down this path I didn’t know. Was it that monster of a father who had poisoned her mind since childhood? Or was there something to the primitive superstitions of Pegasi after all? Was Marra one of those who lived with the blessing- and the curse- of being touched by the gods?
I shivered, glancing over my shoulder at the closed door. It was cold outside my mistress’s bed, and I missed her touch. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you love her. And she loves you too, in her own way.
I looked down at the gel cast over my finger, the one that Marra had broken in her teeth to remind me of my place. Even when it might be mistaken as something else.
Indeed, I’d seen my error and recommitted myself. For that I had been rewarded- hardly a moment had gone by when I wasn't at her side. But that wasn’t all. More nights than not, when we disrobed and were alone at last, she’d been more than eager to let me-
I shuddered, a warm feeling settling in my belly. To be again desired be one’s lover- can there be a greater joy?
Muffled sounds of Marra’s voice shook me from my daydream. They sounded like they were coming nearer, with light footsteps approaching the door. I was just starting to get up when the door opened, my mistress stepping out and looking down at me. Her face was what someone would expect after a sleepless night. Tiny dark lines had formed under her eyes, and her breath smelled of wine. But she had regained control and was once again her decisive self.
I bowed my head and kept my eyes to the floor. “Cheri.”
Marra ignored my greeting and went straight to business. “Is Glaboski prepared?”
I nodded, still looking down. “He has sent word. Everything is ready.”
Not responding to my answer, my mistress began to walk toward the washroom- but paused, turning to me.
I felt the tips of her fingers lift my chin to face her. “Same clothes as yesterday,” she said. “Have you been here all night?”
There was no way to answer such a direct question, so I swallowed and pursed my lips, letting her see the answer in my eyes. She cast a look of silent approval my way, and released my chin.
“I’ve decided the course of the war,” she said. “And things will move quickly now. Brew me some Fujin tea. There's work to be done.”
There was an unsettling calmness to her voice. As I often did around Marrakech of the clan Morgan, I felt myself an insect among giants- looking up from my spot in their footprints, watching the earth move around me and helpless to do anything except hope I wasn't buried. But what could I, Apollonia of Pegasi, do otherwise?
“You’re not going to cry this time, are you?”
My mistress and I were even closer to the gruesome procedure than before. Rather than being in the observation deck, we were in the same surgical chamber as the bound and prepped Gold Crew Elder. Over Glaboski’s objections, Marra had insisted that we be present as the procedure commenced. She had a peculiar look in her eye, as though anticipating something special.
The Elder, for his part, had lost none of his spirit. A stoic expression remained on his face, his jaw and mouth set in a rigid expression of defiance. Like his granddaughter before him, his head had been shaved of what little hair had remained. There was no doubt that he felt the new insertion point in the back of his head, but if it or the realization of what it meant bothered him, he was determined to not show it.
I turned to my mistress and shook my head. “Non, cheri. It was inexcusable to have such sentiment with so much at stake.”
Turning to the bound man, I narrowed my eyes and no longer bothered to hide the wrath that I possessed. “And death is too good a fate for any man who wishes my mistress harm.”
A look of lust and approval flashed in Marra’s eyes. Her hand discreetly traced along the curve of my buttocks, out of that creep Glaboski’s view but a promise of love to come nevertheless. Glaboski stood over the Elder and began to activate the instrumentation around him, the same bank of surrounding holodisplays activating as last time. He looked up at us with his usual warm smile.
“Shall I proceed, council?”
To my surprise, Marra removed her fingers from my backside and shook her head. “Not yet.”
The consigliere slowly approached the Elder, their eyes a dual of arrogant domination and last-stand defiance. She ran a hand over his sweating scalp before smiling sweetly.
“This could all be so pleasant, you know. Simply tell us the location of the sanctuaries, and you may yet see some of your clansmen in this life.”
He looked up, recoiling from the touch. “I would sooner have the serpents stripped from my arms, void witch!”
Nonplussed, Marra looked down at the man’s bound limbs and shrugged. “We can arrange that,” she said. “But I fear that the good doctor is eager to get to work.”
Glaboski nodded and stepped forward, but Marra held up a hand, stopping him. A cold look crossed her eye and she leaned over the man, dropping her voice to almost a whisper.
“These are your last moments with a free mind. Soon, I'll know all your secrets. But first I'd like to tell you one that I know.”
Aged eyes regarded Marra with contempt. “You know only deception and cruelty.”
“Yes,” agreed my mistress. “And one more thing.”
She leaned in further, whispering in the man’s ear. He listened stoically for a moment. Then, his chin began to tremble. His eyes widened and welled up as Marra continued to whisper, and his breath began to come in shallow gasps. By the time that Marra was finished, the man’s face was wet with tears.
“So you see,” she said. “It wasn't your son who betrayed your clan. He was more loyal and cunning than any of you, including his fool of a father.”
Cocking a hip to the side, she bathed in her enemy’s failure, her eyes and voice cruel. “It was you who betrayed your clan. You who led them down a path of darkness and destruction. You who killed them all.”
“And the very first victim of your stupidity,” she whispered. “Was your own son. I think that's the worst thing I've ever seen.”
To both Glaboski’s and my own surprise, Marra spun on her heels and strode out of the medical chamber, signaling for me to join her. From behind us, we could hear the doctor’s flustered tone.
“But- I thought-”
Marrakech of the clan Morgan paused and looked over her shoulder. “Retrieve those locations, doctor! I have better things to do than watch your freak show.”
Taking me by the hand, my mistress led me out of the surgical chamber. Even with the door shut firmly behind us, the wails of the broken old man echoed through the medical corridor.
Glaboski hadn't even yet inserted the probe.
“Better things”, indeed. Mon dieu, that was a good one!
My mistress had led me straight to her suite and immediately started tearing off my clothing, her blacks and my whites leaving a trail all the way to the bed. As always, her pleasure was mine. It was hers to ride the carnal swell, and mine to bask in my belonging. Now, we were laying on our sides, limbs entwined and enjoying a perfect moment amid chaos and war. Marra and I were half-dozing, indulging in the afterglow that is the luxury of all lovers. But one thing had remained on my mind.
“Mistress?”
Her breathing had hinted that she was almost asleep. “Hmm?”
I summoned my courage and held my lover close. “What did you whisper to that vile man?”
To my relief, she didn't become upset at my question. Instead, she only smiled, her eyes still closed.
“The truth.”
I decided to press my luck. “And did this truth have anything to do with that mysterious package from last night?”
My lover’s smile grew wider, and she pulled me closer, her lips whispering their secrets into my ear. I listened with interest- and felt my eyes bulge as she got to the juicy core of the matter.
“Microphones? Tracking devices? Planted by the envoy on Azalea’s body?”
A sleepy nod of the head was my only answer. I gasped, understanding the full meaning of the revelation.
“And these devices- where did you say the examiner found them again?”
A mischievous smile crept across my mistress’s face as her fingers drifted down my arm, over my hip and between my thighs. I parted a leg as her fingers curled around to-
I gasped at the sudden pressure. It had been a long time since anyone had-
“Mon dieu,” I breathed into her ear. Both the revelation and the intimate touch were making words difficult. “Only Azalea would fall for such a trick!”
Marra’s fingers continued to move, the sensation doubling me over until I was face-to-face with the twin skulls on her chest. Thousands. Thousands dead because Azalea Constantinestu was a whore and Elder Teilhard a fool.
Even as the urgent warmth grew inside me, the grinning death’s heads on her skin hinted at the slaughter to come. Trying to lose myself in my lover’s touch, I reached down to reciprocate her attentions, nibbling on one of the dark tips of flesh before me. With her other hand Marra pressed my face against her and let out a low, throaty moan- but part of my mind refused to stop dwelling on the future.
The envoy- he was no simple brute. He agreed to our terms so that he could continue to return and harvest intelligence. But all his father saw was a lust-addled youth, a traitor of such magnitude that a war needed to be started. Thousands perished as a result. And now thousands more will die so that my mistress’s victory will be complete.
My mistress peaked the same time I did, our bodies spending themselves in unison. Marra rolled to her back, eyes closed and catching her breath. I held my place, my head spinning with both the carnal denouement and news that the war had been all based on a misunderstanding. A deception, certainly- but nothing that should have lead to war. In Pegasi, a certain level of chicanery was simply expected. Marrakech Morgan had held both peace and genocide in her hands- and utterly crushed the former choice in an iron fist.
I rolled onto my back, mirroring my lover. In a way, I was happy that she was already drifting away to sleep. Despite the gel-casted reminder on my hand against doing such, the clash between the beautiful and ugly sides of my mistress dominated my thoughts. No, I wouldn’t leave the bed for any walks or showers- but I would be robbed of sleep by my conscience nevertheless.
What a universe we inhabit. And what a mess you always find yourself in. Why must you so fall in love with monsters?
Degginal accepted the news in his usual stoic manner. His face looked aged and drawn, and more yellow than before. It was my hope that the board room’s holodisplay simply needed calibrating, and not that he really looked how he appeared. He was silent for a long time, the wheels in his mind turning and plotting even as his body betrayed him.
“We’ll be needing a new council member, then,” he said. It was a safe way to begin. Marra sometimes liked to say that the goal of a politician was to say either nothing or the obvious- and Deggie was nothing if not a political animal.
Over the K-casts, both Marra and Victor nodded. My mistress was the first to speak, sensing that the balance of power could be altered by whoever was appointed or replace Azalea.
“It should be someone utterly loyal,” she said. “Someone with whom any task could be entrusted.”
Both Victor and Degginal shared a common reaction. By the don, or by you? their eyes seemed to ask.
“Well, that eliminates the mercenary captains,” said Victor with a wry look. As we’d feared, many of the guns for hire had been no match for the Serpents, and were even worse when tasked with keeping civilians in line. That many of them were on her personal payroll was simply a political bonus for Victor.
“And the local Authority chiefs,” Marra shot back. They, too, had failed in keeping basic order in their jurisdictions. They were also whispered to be more loyal to a military man like Victor than an ex-pirate with an infamous last name.
Degginal regarded them both with a cautious look and did his best to sit up. “It would seem,” he said. “That elevating an outsider for the sake of a quick and dirty acquisition may also have been short-sighted.”
Victor nodded his agreement as Marra narrowed her eyes. Though there was little doubt as to Azalea’s cunning, it had soon become apparent that she had more interest in soaking her system to support her luxurious lifestyle than being any kind of administrator. In a way, her death was a blessing. Mukusubii remained in Black Omega’s grip, and the remaining council members were free to choose a more suitable peer.
Degginal looked tired and exasperated, impatience in his eyes as he looked at the two remaining members of council. “So we can’t trust the hired help and we can’t trust the locals. Who, then?”
Victor straightened himself. “A member of the armed services. The regular enforcers, not these hired degenerates that take our credits and run. Someone I think that even my colleague might approve of.”
Marra shot him a look. “Do you have a name?”
The man turned to return her quizzical gaze, his hologram distorting for a moment. “Nicholas Locke. You know the one.”
My mistress looked on in silence, contemplating Victor’s suggestion. Locke was an Imperial turncoat, a man who had enjoyed Marra’s patronage in a way that was likely familiar to him. Yet he had also worked closely with Victor, rising through the ranks until he was appointed chief of internal security. Far from being a glorified security guard, his post had actually taken him all over Pegasi and into the bubble alike, directly overseeing tasks of critical importance to the firm.
“Perhaps,” she said slowly. “But I don’t like the idea of some Imperial outsider at my side.”
The dour-faced admiral scoffed. “Don’t you? You have a funny way of showing it. We all know what you did to further your ambitions.”
My eyes widened at his words. Mon dieu! Does he know? If word of Marra’s sabotaging of Azalea’s invasion gets out-
The man pressed on, his words thick with contempt. “Cow’s blood? Heart-eating? Daddy’s treasure must have really been worth-”
“Enough!” Degginal was coughing, the act of shouting too much for his body. But both Marra and Victor had obeyed. For myself, I was relieved that Victor had only chosen to needle Marra becoming warrior-mated in order to pursue Rabat’s mysterious legacy. He either knew nothing of her deception- which seemed likely- or else the knowledge was stashed away as leverage in case of an emergency.
The don, too, had more to say. “The time for bickering is past. Neither of you ever had the slightest qualms with entrusting your security to this Imperial before. He has a solid intelligence and operations background, and he’s never once let the firm down. Yes or no?”
Victor straightened himself and nodded. “Aye.”
Marra was still seething from Victor’s humiliating reminder of her past, but saw no better option as to who should be elevated.
“Aye.”
Still catching his breath, a look of resolution settled over Degginal’s face. “It’s settled, then. Nicholas Locke is hereby promoted to the rank of caporegime. We’ll make it official after my surgery.”
Silence settled over the council. The chances of Degginal surviving multiple organ transplants simultaneously were perilously low, even with Glaboski performing the procedure. Both Victor and Marra seemed to fear what could happen if the old man’s guiding hand was removed, albeit for different reasons.
“Then think of nothing but your recovery,” Marra said. “By the time you wake up, the war will be over. I have the perfect first assignment for our new council member.”
Both Degginal and Victor looked at the woman with skepticism. “Oh?”
Marra gazed cunningly at the two men. “Yes. I've recently acquired some new toys. Toys designed to send a message. And when Kat von Steuben sees what I'm about, she'll have no choice but to rally the remnants of the Gold Crew and come for me directly. That's when they’ll die.”
Victor narrowed his eyes, still not believing that my mistress could so easily end the war. “And just what do you have in mind?”
Marra smiled demurely, one hand settling on a black-skirted hip. “Oh, nothing special. And you were right, you know. Rabat left me with greater wealth than I could ever have dreamed. I think it's time to share my legacy with the void once and for all.”