“Amaya, I love the extra cuddling and casual touches, but why the sudden shift?” It’s been three days since I over-the-topped her and she’s been girlfriend-y even in public—the exception being when acting in an official capacity. Her previous normal was caring, but careful with a side of professionally distant.
“Mm?” She sits up on the bench we are sharing, pulling her supple paw off of my lap. “most of it is cultural, I suppose? You must understand that my father was a Ship Leader for most of my life, and a third paw for my clan. The Herrat as a species enjoy their dominance games, as you know, but for . . . I guess you would call them Nobility?” she pauses for a moment to consider, “Noble and cultural leader ring close, if you understand?” I nod, getting the thrust of her statement. “Then we were expected to pair with those that challenge us. To build a life with a partner of our equals or perceived betters.”
“Sure, there were political pairings, mostly for litters and legacy,” she waves her paw about, dismissing the idea for us. “but form, function, and ferocity are traits I have been taught to favor since birth, as personal power has much to do with those traits for the Herrati.” She leans over and smooshes her cute little kitty lips against my face with a light lick. “And you, my dear are pleasing and powerful. I’ve been trying to goad you into last night for over a year now.”
My brain systematically backtracks our interactions until I find a moment that matches with a change in behavior. “Oh, you have been somewhat contentious since you said you would like to pair with me. That makes more sense now.”
“You are terrible at taking hints. Are there any other barriers to us pairing Penny?”
Andromeda, I wish she hadn’t asked that. “Honestly? I don’t like how political this has been feeling, and that you seem to want me for the power this pairing will bring you. Your more recent behavior has me more interested, but I don’t know how real it is after the last few years. I was surprised at your offer last year, and baffled by your behavior since.”
She chuffs into my neck as she rests her head on my shoulder. “There is little information on the affairs of Pixies, but I theoretically understand the love and affection that humans desire. It is why I have been more touchy and personal with you after your arrival this week. It is not something that comes naturally to me, but it is pleasant just the same. My sudden urge to defer to you when we meet with others is odd, but as we both have kits, you would be the leader of our pride so logically it makes sense.”
“You have kids?!” I turn to her in astonishment.
“I have had three litters since you deposited us on New Peshmel, a cultural obligation to repopulate our people, though I have claimed exemption since I started courting you. Many political leaders claim the same when they are pushing for something in the Senate, or on Astoria.”
“Pregnancy is not a taboo, dear. And if someone attempted to disparage a pregnant woman, I would take exception.” She chuckles.
“It is more that pregnant females of my species are extra aggressive, touchy, and violent to an uncomfortable degree when they feel that any part of their livelihood is threatened.”
“So, you’re pregnant?” I chuckle, but Amaya hisses at me and bats my face a little with her paws. I laugh harder.
“I would bite you, but it might kill me.” she growls. Instead, like the cat that she is, she extends her claws into my legs. I bite her ear in response and her whole body stiffens.
“Be a good girl and I’ll let you please me with your paws free when we get home.” I drop my voice and breathe a promise to her. She shudders in response and retracts her claws.
“I’ll buy the honey.” She purrs with a smile and licks my chin before standing up and pulling me with her. I feel as though she threatened me for a good time? This tricksy kitten just maneuvered me from a passive position!
I am uncomfortably turned on.
***
Ten days with a newly dutiful playmate was exquisite and exhausting. I fully believe Amaya was trying to absolutely blank my mind with pleasure so that it was all I thought about until our next meeting. Clearly she’d never heard of ADHD, but it was a fucking solid effort. Shenanigans would have lasted an extra two days had I not gotten a priority message from my Bikini Atoll base on Earth.
Warram, the mission-oriented AI that I sent to Earth to stabilize the Western Hemisphere, told me that the Marianus Navy was causing trouble in Polynesia and Indonesia, with a collection of independent colonies banding together and filing a collective grievance. Since there is no global authority on Earth, and the Empire has no fucking judicial system—still—I have to handle it personally. Since I told Warram to stabilize by any means without specifically limiting Empress given rights, he didn’t flag the Navy for piracy, but denying a populace the right to subsistence in stealing their ansibles.
Reports also say that they’ve taken hostages to prevent retaliation as the settle portions of old New Guinea, which sounds a whole lot like they’re about to be slavers. Slavers can die in an effing fire, and I’m fixing to make it rain.
I depart my shuttle in LEO, relying on my t-3 re-entry suit to take me to New Guinea while my shittle lands at my quarters on the Atoll. I know for a fact that the Navy passively searches for my shuttle at all times, but a fast-moving object the size of a person is a lot harder to spot—especially coming from anti-spinward.
The trip takes about fifteen minutes, significantly slower in the last 120k meters, though some directed shield shaping speeds things up a little. I crash into the ocean offshore and teleport into the jungle I saw from above, intentionally obfuscating my arrival because of the advanced cruiser I saw in a protective position to the carrier off the coast. The settlement I also saw wasn’t anything to write home about, but knowing that the damned carrier has an ansible on it--obviating the need to steal one from the locals—sets my vision to ultra-violet and my temper to murder.
One would think that the dutiful, responsible people I left in charge of the Pacific and my home on Earth would continue to be dutiful and responsible. But if the last twenty years have taught me anything, once a culture gets past the daily thought of survival, someone gets greedy. Every Nation of the pre-initialized Earth was a prime example, my recent session with my Governors being the closest to home. There is no limit to what Humanity as a disease can desire, merely a limit on what a person needs or can reasonably use. I’d like to say I’m an exception, but I’m not. I spend millions of credits a year from my own pockets on public works, but my companies make many times more than that. I give my weapon developments to the Navy for free, but one might say that it’s my Navy and self serving—they’d be right. In the end, I’m just a nicer version of the greedy asshole breed, confident that I am the best version that Humanity can hope for.
With that confidence, I stride into their defensive range from the forest and passively dare them to challenge me. I hear a few reports and feel a few impacts on my shields, but nothing so strong as to pick me up off my feet. Within a minute I hear a man yell cease fire from the walls and a small group of men gather to confront me at the gates.
“Greetings Admiral, to what do we owe this pleasure?”
“I’m on a fact finding mission, commander. Some of my informants have told me of actions that would be illegal in the Empire. As your faction is based on Imperial holdings, and are aligned with the Empire as an organization, you are beholden to our laws.” The Commander seems confused at my declaration, so I press forward. “Take me to your theater commander, Commander. I have business with the Admiralty.”
The man makes a smart about face, but at no point salutes me. Perhaps there will be an etiquette lesson in everyone’s future. If you’re going to use my title, respect the fucking thing. For reals. As soon as I get the inkling that I’m going to be boated out to the carrier, I grab the Commander by the neck and teleport us to the observation deck on the side of the bridge.
“I’m finished with the delays, alert your theater commander that I will meet him in the flag mess.” I take three steps forward and open the door to the bridge. “Officer of the Deck, ring the fucking Empress aboard!” I shout as I storm through the space dramatically as I download the specifications to this ship and teleport to the mess as soon as I exit the bridge.
I hear twelve bells on the 1MC and “Empress Astoria, Arriving.” They added bells for me. I like that. I see the empty mess with a plate of cookies and a tray with different teas next to a pot of hot water. This is sufficient, I think as I prepare an Earl Grey with a squeeze of galaxy fruit from my compressed space items. I munch on some tasty chocolate chip cookies while sipping my tea and waiting for leadership to arrive.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
A terrified CS chief dashes into the room from the scullery space and asks me if I require a meal. I ask if there are any fried snacks available and he rushes back to the kitchen without saying anything. I presume that’s a yes? I analyze the behaviors of Earthers since I arrived and I can understand their behavior in hindsight, but no one on Astoria would react in such a way. I’m not sure if that’s a triumph in my attempts to soften my reputation on my planet of residence, or a neoten-ification of my current appearance. A topic for future study I think.
/Warram, collate current views of the Empress in your hemisphere and send them to me please./
\There are other Empires, your grace. I will compile perception of you across as many continents as I can.\
/Thank you, Warram, keep up the good work./ He chirps back and sends me a million credits. The fuck man!? I look at the sheet totaling his holdings and his taxes due. M’fucker just sent me half his taxes due as a bribe. No muss, no fuss, here’s a bribe, look the other way. Fuck it. While on Earth, do as the Earther’s do. I send him a writ for a minor Imperial title if he declares at least a thousand hectares for the Empire. Five seconds later, the charter for the Imperial Republic of Central America is ratified and Lord Warram Mercer suddenly controls the largest contiguous area in the Americas. I get a flood of requests from his settlements and immediately regret my decision.
I shake my head out as the CS chief bursts through the door again with an array of fried foods and several dipping sauces? “Damn, Chief, this is way more than I expected. Relax man. Take a breath, have a smoke or a pack of gum or something. I’m here to chew on the leadership not you.” He dashes out of the room just the same. I chuckle as I have to imagine him thinking I eat babies or kittens.
I snack on the chicky nugs and tempura shrimp that was presented to me, a decadent surprise from what I was served when I was in the service, and as I’m nearly out of cocktail sauce, a white-bearded rear admiral lower half walks in.
“Empress, to what do I owe this untimely interruption?”
“Rude. But to answer, you stole the local’s ability to feed themselves.” I say, biting into another shrimp.
The man scoffs as he reaches for a shrimp himself. I bat his hand away. “You do not have the necessary might to steal my food, Rear Admiral. Explain yourself and I may share.” I don’t growl, but it’s close. I wasn’t intending on proving a point with my fried offerings, but the opportunity presents itself.
“The locals made war when we began to occupy this shore. We won and took the spoils of victory.”
“You’re saying that an ansible capable of supplying the entire island and the islands around it, halfway to Indonesia, and fifty people are spoils of war?”
“Fourty seven. They are hostages to prevent the locals from retaliating.”
“What do you have them doing and what are you paying them?”
He scoffs again and my hackles rise in preparation for his admission of guilt.
“Pay prisoners? Are you daft woman? They. Are. Prisoners.” With each statement he pounds the table and edges his face closer.
I reach out and dig my fingers into the sides of his skull, staring into his eyes as I feel trickles of blood run across my fingers. He starts screaming but I shut his jaw with my other hand. “If you are forcing prisoners to work, you are a slaver. Your organization is allied with my Empire and thus you are subject to my laws.” I unleash my command aura and I can smell his fear response. “The punishment for slavery is death.” I summon shackles and put the man in them. I then teleport the both of us to the bridge.
I ask the Officer of the Deck to hand me the 1MC mic and key the receiver.
“This is Empress Astoria, all hands not on watch or engaging vital maintenance are ordered to the flight deck in one hour’s time.” I give the mic back to the nervous LT. “Set a timer and remind the crew again at 15 and 5 minutes.” The poor boy nods with terrified eyes.
I blip to the flight deck and look for a signal mast. Not finding one, I tie him to the catch cables amidships, summon a lawn chair, a deck table and a small array of beverages. I might as well enjoy my visit if no one else will. I order a small plaque and engrave it with ‘For those about to Die’ and populate a new table with every liquor I can fit on it.
A troupe of officers walk out of the bridge mast. I think that’s what it’s called? Who cares. Anyway, as they walk up, I summon a larger table and as soon as they show up, each of them assesses the plaque and the table itself, and about 20% accept their inevitable deaths. Perhaps they think it’s graven humor, but the ones that know grab a bottle and drink straight from it. The commander I teleported onboard with is among them.
“Here to lay down the hammer are you?” a Lieutenant Colonel asks. Marine uniforms are snappy and crisp, I’ll give them that.
“Yep. Slavery, aiding and abetting. Imperial crimes, you see.” I say to the grizzled man, sipping my drink.
“All the crimes across the globe and you ping us for this minor shit?” He growls and gestures.
“Yes, Colonel. You aligned yourselves with my Empire. You have benefitted, and are thus required to behave within my two immutable laws, and my other laws that are mere suggestions on un-aligned Earth. You must not interfere with the subsistence and housing of those that have earned it, except in times of war; and no slavery.”
“The locals attacked us first!!” he protests.
“Five tribes did. You took an ansible that fed twenty tribes. As soon as you took people and put them to work, your lives were forfeit anyway, but informing the crew of what their officers did serves a purpose.”
“You can’t kill the whole officer crew and expect this settlement to function!” He’s really doubling down that anyone is innocent in this. Situational Myopathy is weird.
“I could, but I don’t intend to. Most will be stripped of their citizenship or blocked from ever obtaining it. Since they had no direct hand in what you immoral fuckers did, I won’t kill them, but following immoral orders is still an issue.”
“If you’re about to kill me, can I at least get a better bottle of tequila?” A female lieutenant commander asks.
Well, shit. Who am I to deny a bold last meal request? “What style?”
“Reposado, old.” She coughs out as the bottle of Jose takes another hit.
Smokey? Okay, I like her. I summon a mini barrel of south American tequila, nine years buried, and hand her a heavy tumbler.
“Fuuuuuuck. That is the kind of bitch you could die with.” She slams the glass and pours another that she sips. Respect, chica, mad respect.
I drink with the officers that have the stones to sit with me until the hour comes to a close. Nearly two thousand people are milling around at this point, awaiting my address. I unhook the cuffed flag officer from the catch cable and lift him to his feet by the back of his neck and march him up on top of the table for all to see.
I put some aether into my voice and address the crew. “Now I know the rule is praise in public and punish in private, but an example must be made. Your command staff willingly and knowingly took prisoners and put them to work without promise of pay or special treatment, or compensation of any kind. This is slavery, Sailors and Marines, and slavery is punishable by death in the Empire.”
“This isn’t the Empire, you stupid bitch!” I dig my nails into his neck to shut him up.
“The Rear Admiral makes an excellent point. This is not the Empire, however, Bikini Atoll and your settlement slash headquarters is on Imperial land, and you have chosen to ally your settlement with Astoria. Furthermore, this man,” I shake the asshole, “and the command staff petitioned me for citizenship, which I awarded.”
“You see, as citizens and settlement owners, they get tax breaks, Exchange transfer discounts, and are eligible for free rations and lodging in any Empire holding. There are other benefits, but they are not germane to this topic. What is relevant is that by their own request they are subject to my laws, and their lives are forfeit.” I burn a third of my aether stores and slow time on the ship to a crawl. I draw my pulse pistol and execute every citizen that directly participated in subjugating slaves at point blank range as I dash around the crowd while time is slowed.
Going back to my original spot, I release my hold on time and panic breaks out for a few moments as a dozen bodies hit the deck.
“As for the rest of you!” I shout and wait for the crew to quiet. “As for the rest, you are not citizens. Those that were involved in taking prisoners, handling, guarding, etcetera; you will be flagged as slavers and will never be welcome in Empire lands again. That is, with the exception of Lieutenant Xiyue and Petty officers Gamble and Firth. You three are pardoned of your association with these slavers due to your risking court martial to sneak them food and quality of life items like tooth brushes and soap. Resistance isn’t always a grand gesture folks, but it is important to do what you can to fight injustice.” I send each of them a note that this pardon includes a one-way trip to anywhere they wish.
“That’s rich coming from a murderous tyrant!” Someone yells while I’m looking through accounts and menus.
“The people I killed today read the rules and signed the documents. Perhaps they were unlucky that I showed up today, but I have spies on this planet that do good work. Those that haven’t been flagged are free to do as they please. I would recommend driving one ship back to HQ with the unflagged and leaving the others here to make their settlement, but again, that’s all up to you all. I’ll be taking the Ansible that was stolen and putting it back before I head Elsewhere.” I decide to leave the booze before teleporting to the shoreside camp.
Accessing the ansible, I dig through the logs to find the device’s previous location ID and pay to have it transferred back there. I pull out my shuttle and round up the prisoners to relocate them back to their previous settlement. They try to get me to take them somewhere else, but the drama that led them to being captured is not my problem.
The three Sailors I pardoned decide they want to take transport to Hawaii, where one of them still has family, and I end up picking up the tab to transfer their old possessions to the new location. And now, I can finally, get to the business I wanted to come to Earth for in the first place: a visit with Nova Chem’s adorable owner.
/Kimber, I’m on planet and about an hour away. Meet me at the helipad near your factory would you?/
That done, I program the coordinates into my shuttle and a time to get there while I get comfy in a lounger and settle in for a nap.
