Fear the Empire Read online

  “Hey, pebble boy. Come to take a turn?”

  “I'm just here to talk to Ntombi.”

  Javier let out a single huff of breath. “Right. Talk. Because that's what she's good for, I'm sure.”

  “If you're going to leave, Javier, then leave.”

  Javier glanced back into the room and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. I wouldn't touch her looking like that, anyway. Even I have standards.”

  The wall of muscle nudged past Wesley and continued down the hall until he turned the corner and disappeared, in search of the next girl he could pass the time with.

  Wesley pushed down his disgust and stepped inside, but when he saw Ntombi sitting on her bed, his disgust rose right back. Her face was bruised and bloody, covered in scrapes and swollen balls of black and blue flesh. One eyeball was red with broken blood vessels and her bottom lip was split down the middle.

  “What happened?”

  He rushed to her side, lifting his hands to embrace her, but she flinched, backing away from him without saying a word.

  “Ntombi... who did this to you?”

  “It not matter,” she said through lips that barely worked. “Not your problem.”

  “It was him. Wasn't it? Javier did this to you.”

  “No!” Her eyes showed a sudden panic. “It not him. You go away. Not do anything.”

  “Ntombi... if he did this to you, you need to tell me.”

  “I tell you. It not him. No do anything. Go away.”

  “If it wasn't him, then who was it?”

  “Why you want to know? So you be big man? Fight for me? Yes? Get the revenge? No. I no want this. You go away.”

  Wesley tried to think straight, but the pained look on her face made his outrage boil inside his chest. The privileged, selfish, ego of Javier drove him insane. He couldn't just sit back and watch someone like that get away with physically abusing another person. That's not the way the world worked. Everyone had to follow the same set of rules. Everyone.

  “I can't just let him do something like this to you, or anyone else. He has to be punished.”

  “No! This is wanted. Want you to start fight.”

  “Just so he can say I started it?” Wesley stood up from the bed and stomped toward the door. “Fine. I'll give him exactly what he wants. Someone needs to teach him a lesson. Someone needs to show him that he can't treat people like this. I took down his brother... I'll take him down too.”

  As he stepped out of the room, Ntombi yelled after him, “No!” but it fell on deaf ears.

  All Wesley heard was the thumping of his own heartbeat, the fury and rage that pumped through his veins. Javier had gone too far. It didn't matter what the family would think of him. They would thank him in the long run. They'd all be better off without that monster roaming the hallways, thinking he could just take whatever he wanted from whomever he wanted. The only thing Javier would understand was violence, and in that moment, Wesley had plenty of violence for him to understand.

  18

  ZANA

  The women of the Devil Legion spun through the air like falling snowflakes, dancing upon the wind with flawless beauty, seemingly unaffected by the pull of gravity. Their limbs stretched out in patterns that were perfected formations meant to distribute their weapons in exact, death-dealing arcs. Their blades moved around each other like the gears of a machine designed by a madman, each one coming within inches of each other, allowing no room for their enemies to dodge between and leaving no hope for survival. It was violent artistry that left the robot forces of Neo-Nippon shredded into thin strips of metal trash within the hour.

  Zana watched from the hilltop, supplied with a set of binoculars so that her and Luca could oversee the battle, though he seemed to pay little attention.

  “If you care, we appear to be winning.”

  “You see?” Luca said with a purr. “I told you the women could handle it.”

  “While the men sit in their tents, filling their guts with wine and mounting the slaves.”

  “The wine and slaves were supplied by your family. It would be rude if we didn't at least taste the wares we were presented with.”

  Zana shot him a look of disgust, but his attention was turned toward the backside of a crocodile-woman bending over to set down a basket of bread.

  “I should be down there with them,” Zana said.

  There was a long pause as Luca watched the woman saunter away before he replied, “Nonsense. You're much too important to be put into battle.”

  “You mean the child inside me is too important.”

  A small roar rumbled deep within him. “No. I mean you. That child in your belly is years away from being important. Right now, you are still a Zharkov.”

  Zana couldn't help but laugh. That name was meaning less and less to her with every day that passed. Even when familial matters occurred, she was largely ignored. Her father and uncle had flown off with Yuri without much more than a nod goodbye to her. Their adventures had nothing to do with her it seemed. Her fate was in Therian.

  “What do you care about the Zharkovs? You're destined to take the throne in Therian. And I'm sure you're aware how little that domain means to my family.”

  “Yet who did they turn to in their hour of need?”

  Zana smirked. “Desperation is far different than respect.”

  Luca leaned forward in his wicker chair. “And which one brought you to Therian? Desperation or respect? Which one made you present your loins to me so easily?”

  Zana's entire body clenched, her jaw tightening as her breathing seized. “There was nothing respectful about what you did to me.”

  “I accomplished the task put before me. That is all that matters.”

  “You say that like it was a feat of strength. Trust me, there was no skill involved.”

  Luca stroked his trunk in contemplation. “You speak with such spite. Do you truly despise me that much?”

  Zana held the binoculars to her face and scanned the battlefield again, watching the women dispatch any robots still twitching on the ground.

  “I feel nothing for you,” she said, her words sounding faint and empty.

  She jerked when she felt his paw upon her shoulder, wondering how he had snuck up on her without her hearing his approach. She must have been too lost in the sights and sounds of the battlefield. She yanked her shoulder away and turned her attention to him.

  “What will you do, then, when our child is born?” He looked saddened, but Zana could tell it was being forced. “Your responsibilities to my family, to my domain, will be done. Will you return to the Grand Citadel? Will you leave me and our child behind, and forget all about us?”

  Zana wanted to spit out, “Yes, with pleasure,” but she held her tongue. She had seen things in Therian, things that had connected with her. She definitely did not expect it, but the beauty of the land and the strength of the women had touched a part of her that remained unfulfilled in the Fatherlands. She couldn't deny that.

  “I do not know what my plans are.”

  Luca nodded, still feigning empathy toward her. “You may not always have the luxury of deciding your own plan.”

  His words sounded like a threat.

  “What does that mean?”

  Luca let out a sigh. “Zana... I know you like to play the role of the victim, blaming your lack of balls for your limitations in life, but you're still a Zharkov, and balls or not, you are still in the line of succession. Your father could fall. Your uncle and brother may not live through this war. Who would take the crown then? Your grandmother? Surely you couldn't allow that.”

  “You think I should be preparing to rule the Empire?” She turned away from him. “Trust me, no one has any intention of that happening.”

  He grabbed her arm and spun her back toward him. “Maybe they should. Think about it. Imperatrix Zana Zharkov the Seraphim. You can't tell me that doesn't stoke a flame inside of you.”

  “It truly doesn't.” She tore her arm from his grip and
looked off into the distance, toward the Eastern horizon. “Perhaps when I was younger and more idealistic. But I've seen the truth. I've seen what that crown, what that pursuit of power, does to people. And I've seen the demoralizing shadow that falls over those who accomplish their goal. I have no interest in micro-managing state affairs. I have no wish to alter taxes or negotiate trade agreements. That is not my place in this world.”

  The sensitive nature Luca was trying to project fell away. “So what? You plan on playing warrior-woman for the rest of your life? Do you truly think you'll be satisfied swinging a sword in a time of peace? Or do you hope to be married off to another Domini's son and push out another litter so that your family can reap the rewards? Do you really value yourself that little?”

  Zana's hand lashed out, snatching Luca by the neck. Her hand squeezed a gasp of phlegm and air from his throat. She watched the sheer panic fill his bloodshot eyes as she gripped harder and harder, his legs kicking out from underneath him. He tried to claw at her hands, but he didn't even leave a mark on her impenetrable skin. She tilted her head and smiled, staring deep into his eyes as the realization sunk in that death was only moments away.

  “I'm sorry, my liege. I didn't mean to interrupt.”

  Zana's attention spun to her right and she saw Tila, the lizard-woman who commanded a large portion of the women in the Devil Legion. She glanced back at Luca and let reality sink back in. She flung him across the hilltop where they had made their camp, and his body toppled into the baskets of food that had been stacked nearby. He coughed and gagged as he gasped for air, trying to climb to his feet. Once he was stable, he let out a roar and a whine from his trunk.

  “You bitch! You can't lay your hands on me!”

  Zana tilted her head with a feigned confusion. “No? I can't? Maybe I should try again...”

  She took a single step toward him and he nearly fell over the baskets as he tried to back away.

  “Stay away from me. If you ever do anything like that again, my father will pull his armies from your war with the snap of his fingers.”

  “And I will rip this baby from my belly.”

  Another roar of anger. “Do not threaten me!”

  “I don't have to. Because you just admitted that the only real power you hold over anyone is the fact that your father is the Dominus. You can claim to be a prince all you want, but you're a child. Your title is all you have, Luca.”

  Luca looked shocked by her words, but quickly returned to anger. “That's funny coming from you. You possess the most powerful abilities in the world, and yet you still have to spread your legs for me. Invincibility, flight, super strength, and that disgusting golden skin... yet your only role in life is to carry my heir. Who looks powerless now?”

  Zana's face remained unchanged. She kept her gentle smile as she lifted off the ground and slowly floated toward Luca. He flinched, backing away from her approach, but he somehow retained his pride. He stuck out his chest and hid his fear as she landed right in front of him.

  “I'm not carrying your heir, Luca. I'm carrying the heir to the domain. Which means, now that I'm pregnant, you're sort of pointless. Your job is done, Luca. You made an heir.” She leaned in close, whispering to him, “If you died, who would care?”

  She watched the truth sink in behind his eyes, his face frozen with fear. Her smile grew as she lifted off the ground and floated back toward the lizard-woman, Tila. She floated past the woman and motioned for her to follow. Tila hurried by her side.

  “Sorry about that,” Zana said to the woman with a sigh. “Now... what can I do for you?”

  “I-I'm sorry, my liege. I...” Tila looked over her shoulder, back toward Luca, who was still frozen by the thought of his pointless existence. “I've never seen anyone speak to him like that.”

  “Who? Luca? He's harmless. You have nothing to fear from him. You could kill him within seconds.”

  “That's... not the point.”

  “Isn't it?”

  “Of course not!” Tila laughed darkly at the idea. “He is the son of the Dominus. No one is allowed to speak to him like that. Ever.”

  Zana stopped halfway down the hill, gazing out over the warrior-women below. They were carrying their own dead from the site, still covered in the blood of their companions and the mud of the battlefield, and their eyes looked empty. Emotionless. That lack of emotion was required, of course, if a warrior was to face the kind of violence that was required to win a war, but the women looked broken. The strain on their bodies from battle after battle was taking its toll.

  “This should have been an easy win.”

  Tila looked at Zana with disgust. “We were outnumbered ten to one!”

  Zana shook her head. “No. You weren't. Or at least you wouldn't have been if the other half of your army would have shown up to the fight.”

  “The men were... occupied.”

  “The men have been occupied ever since Therian started fighting for the Empire. Don't you ever tire of that?”

  “Of what?”

  Zana rolled her eyes and gave Tila a knowing look. “Don't you ever tire of their... occupation.”

  “I... I don't...”

  “You know what I'm talking about. They take what they want, when they want. They bend you over when they grow bored.”

  “The Dominus wills it.”

  Zana spit on the ground. “The Dominus treats you all like animals. And the only reason he does, is because it serves his interests.”

  “He is the Dominus. It's his right.”

  Zana turned back toward the battlefield. “Yes. I suppose it is. But you are a warrior. A powerful, confident warrior. And you should be treated as such. You should be honored. Praise should be heaped upon you... not the aggression of lonely men.”

  Tila gripped her spear tightly, watching the battlefield alongside Zana. “Well, perhaps if you were the Domina, things would be different.”

  “Yes,” Zana said as she placed her palm on her belly. “Perhaps it would.”

  19

  ESMERALDA

  The air shower blasted every particle from her body, allowing Esmeralda to enter the clean room without risk of contamination. She could appreciate the Oshiro way of doing things. Katsu was meticulous, never allowing for the chance that someone else might mess up his plans. He was always in control. Which left her with little room for her own research.

  So far, he believed everything she said. There really was no reason to question her. She had dug into the one thing she knew he would get emotional about. Revenge. She made him believe that was what made them allies. They were on the same side because of their shared blood lust. She told him that she was doing this all for Hector, for Miguel, but she had absolutely no intention of putting another super-powered dictator on the throne. Her late husband would never have wanted her to ally with one of the diseased, just to take down the Zharkovs, but using Katsu was another thing all together. They had done this same thing a thousand times before. Use one disease to kill another. She just needed to make sure she was in control, manipulating the so-called Emperor to do her bidding. There was no way she was going to outsmart him. If she tried to match intellects, she'd fail. So she pulled at his emotions instead. His sense of justice. His need for revenge. His pursuit of power. It's what had caused the war in the first place. If he was being logical, he could have come up with a much better plan to remove the Zharkovs than to start a war, but his super-intelligence had been tainted by anger, and she was going to exploit that for everything she could. She just needed to be careful.

  With a team of seventy-two scientists, it wasn't exactly easy to keep her own research a secret. She needed to divide the team and keep them away from each other's work. If they didn't know what the other one was doing, they wouldn't be able to put the puzzle together. Just like their Emperor, they were all hyper-focused, staring at the one piece that required their attention. It was a curse that most intelligent people suffered from. They became so fixated on that one, single proble
m, that they never stepped back, they never looked at anything as a whole.

  Katsu Oshiro wasn't looking at anything from a macro level. His super-intelligence was solely designated for technological advances. If he had applied those same brain cells to military strategy, the war would be over. If he studied subterfuge, sabotage, or the art of spycraft, the war could have been over before anyone even knew it had started.

  But this was the problem with men. They never want to be subtle. They always wanted to take credit for everything they did. Even the smartest among them had to flex their muscles and show everyone how impressive they were. It was sickening, but easily manipulated. If the Emperor wanted to bang his robots against the tide of soldiers until he proved his army was stronger than the Zharkovian army? So be it. She would take advantage of every minute he wasted, and every advancement in robotics that he was squandering on his narcissism.

  Her plan was simple, really. She would develop the force field technology for her own battle-suit, making her virtually indestructible. Then she could implement the same technology into his self-replicating robotic factories, while installing her own protocols and granting herself control of his army. She would be Domina of Neo-Nippon within a month, and Imperator of the Empire by the end of the year. She would declare the disease illegal. Her science teams would dedicate themselves to finding and eradicating the genome that was causing these powers to manifest.

  She would save the world.

  “Excuse me, ma'am?”

  The scientist behind her shook Esmeralda from her daydreams. She cleared her throat and straightened her clean-room suit.

  “Yes? Is there a problem?”

  The scientist looked nervous underneath the hood of her own suit. Her heavy breathing fogged up the plastic shield covering her face.

  “No. I mean... yes. Sort of.”

  “Which is it?”

  The scientist shook her head, looking more embarrassed. She pulled out an Oshiro tablet and scrolled through the information.

  “I'm sorry, ma'am. We are moving forward steadily with the miniaturization of the battery cells needed to power the force field and should see significant progress by the end of the day.”