If Ethan had thought his room aboard the Union cruiser was plush, his quarters on his personal heavy cruiser reminded him what true wealth meant.
“This isn’t the Captain’s Quarters, right?” he asked Heafi after she led him to his room.
“Of course not. There are multiple officer’s rooms suitable for our positions,” she assured him.
The entryway opened into a small living room, although it was easily large enough to satisfy the average apartment dweller. His bedroom stood behind another security door and contained a bed so large he suspected it had been chosen with “night activities” in mind. He hadn’t seen the bathroom yet, but knew it would be palatial. There was even a tiny office, although he struggled to understand what purpose it served.
Few appliances, however. A combination microwave oven hid inside a cabinet, proving that even after thousands of years aliens had yet to discover a better method of cooking than heat and radiation. Heafi’s face suggested she wished he hadn’t found it. The crew might be resistant to any attempts he made to heat instant food.
Otherwise, the biggest thing that caught his eye dominated the living room. Kiels tapped away at a large display above several different spouts, but the huge device rose to the ceiling and appeared built into the wall.
The wolfgirl let out a whistle as she stared at a rotating image of a beer glass. “You went all out with the booze. Care to split a 60% stein, Ethan?”
Heafi whined, while he peeked under Kiels’s shoulder. Sure enough, the display showed a black beer with a ruby sheen, and an alcohol content of 60%.
“I think I’d die if I drank a pint of that,” he said. “Is that seriously available?”
“Your predecessor made it a requirement to stock a wide variety of strong and rare alcohols,” Heafi explained. “But the dispenser can provide more moderate drinks, and even non-alcoholic beverages. It’s directly plumbed to kegs in a special storage unit. Ordinarily, they’d only be for your consumption, but…” She bit her lip.
“I’m not going to die if you or Sai drink some of my liquor,” he said drily. “It’d be an absurd waste if it went off because I didn’t finish a keg of beer stronger than fucking whisky.”
Kiels snorted as she flicked through the display. “A drop in the bucket compared to the running costs of this ship.”
Heafi frowned. “The Association runs everything at its highest efficiency.”
“I’m sure you do, but this is still a warship.” The wolfgirl glanced at Ethan with a raised eyebrow, one hand over a button, and he nodded. She began pouring a green soda. The glass appeared automatically to catch the drink. “There’re over a thousand crew just to keep it running, plus hundreds of soldiers onboard. Hell, the ship schematics show there’s a whole barracks capable of carrying thousands more troops. Plus fuel costs, raw maintenance of a ship this size, munitions… Providing you some fancy booze is a rounding error.”
“It almost sounds like most corporations don’t own massive warships,” he said.
“They don’t,” Heafi and Kiels said together.
Heafi continued without a glance at Kiels, who handed Ethan her drink and poured herself another. This was just lime soda, only greener.
“The Association isn’t a mere corporation,” the unicorn said. “We are a government operating with the Union’s blessing. Defense spending is necessary to maintain order, particularly if we are to regain complete control over the Rim.”
“I get it,” he said. “It just feels weird to claim we’re a company, but also a nation. Who owns us? The Union granted us license over the Rim, but usually companies still exist within a specific nation.”
Heafi tapped her tablet, and Ethan almost thought he’d stumped her. Only for her to turn it around and show him a table of percentages. Shareholders, he assumed.
“The Association’s structure is complex, and doesn’t explicitly operate like a traditional company with shareholders,” she said. “This is to prevent hostile takeovers and abide by the terms of our agreement with the Union. Our headquarters is on Rylamis Prime, but we maintain offices in the territories of each major interstellar power… Maintained, I should say.” She grimaced. “You will need to work with Executor Sai to resume control over them.”
That sounded more like embassies. Ethan suspected he should stop thinking of the Association as anything approaching a company, and more like an interstellar government he’d been appointed king of. It just happened to use corporate terminology.
“Alright, does the same apply for other megacorps? Like Mortami?” he asked.
“Depends on their size and purpose,” Kiels said. “Stellarcorps as big as Mortami always have or had some sort of state backing. Mortami has a royal charter from the Taeran Empress, but that comes with obligations.”
“Like not working with the enemy.”
“You betcha. The Mortami family also provides males to help keep the royal family going and all the crap. It’s pseudo-nobility. You can’t just buy control of a company like that with money. Landing control of the Rim as a random human is nuts, but I suppose nothing new. Your predecessor was some random Taer, wasn’t he?”
“He wasn’t random.” Heafi sniffed. “But, yes, some Administrators to come from… less extravagant backgrounds. As a company, the position isn’t automatically inherited and the Union sometimes expresses a preference and break up a dynasty.”
Kiels looked Ethan in the eye, and he shrugged. Her eyes narrowed.
“Anyway, thank you for showing me to my room, Heafi,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. For now, I’d like to relax.”
“Um…” She bit her lip and her tail began to swish back and forth nervously. “I understand you intend to go shopping soon, yes? In the Superior Strata?”
Adorable. He smiled at her. “Interested? Although I guessed you might have work to do.”
“Oh, I do, but as Steward I’m getting used to delegating. I can handle the most sensitive work tonight and join you tomorrow.” Her eyes glittered with almost childish joy. “I will not complain about an opportunity to peruse Dominio Hyrium’s impressive commercial strata. I’ve heard there’s a clothing store here the size of a large town.”
Ethan never planned to go clothes shopping, but facing Heafi’s innocence, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He’d be cancelling Christmas if he declined her.
“You can come with me. I’ll head out sometime in the morning, although it will be for more than clothes,” he said.
She squealed and nearly hugged him, but stopped herself. “Thank you, Ethan. I’ll see you tomorrow. Pleasant dreams.”
The fuzzy feeling of Heafi’s nullification feeling remained even as she left. Presumably, he’d be safe from Sai’s psychic abilities so long as the unicorn was awake. At least, he assumed Heafi couldn’t protect him while sleeping.
Kiels didn’t follow Heafi out the door.
When he raised an eyebrow at her, she smirked at him.
“My fluffy boss gave me a new job. Keeping you from being jumped by a ship full of horny bitches,” she said. “Figured it would be hard for me to do that if I remained in the line of command, so I’m your Praetorian. Not sure how it’s translating for you—”
“It’s a term for the Emperor’s guards in an ancient human empire,” he said.
“Fitting. The Vaelix term literally means ‘legally appointed neutral bodyguard,’ but that’s a mouthful. For us, it translates to my last name.” She made a face. “I have a filter in my module to leave it untranslated. Anyway, I’m your personal bodyguard. You don’t go anywhere or do anything without me.”
Ethan nearly made a joke, but the amusement in her eyes suggested she expected it.
Instead, he swerved. “Your last name? I’m not familiar with Taer surnames. You never give them.”
She growled and ran a hand through her black hair. “For good reason. They’re pretty useless. Every Hound has the same surname.”
He looked at her in confusion. “Every Hound? As in, those on the ship, or…?”
“All Void Hounds in the galaxy. All special forces, even. Taer surnames are based on our current ‘pack.’ In the military, that’s our deployment. All spec ops units in the Empire use the surname of royal family’s former Imperial Guard, which is Vareth.”
“What about the actual Imperial Guard?”
“Hasn’t been a permanent one since the civil war.” She shrugged. “They joined the Dominion part way through and attempted a coup, so each Empress has instead formed her own temporary guard however she wishes. Any attempt to go further fails every time one is assassinated by their own troops.”
“That happens often?”
She stared at him. “Wow, the story is fucking famous. You do know how our current Empress took the throne right?”
He shook his head, suspecting they’d be in for a story. Perfect time for a drink. He flicked through the options before settling on a Faecrim wheat ale he’d had before. It tended to have extra funk than human wheat beers, but that meant it tasted like something, instead of nothing.
Kiels bit her lip while looking at the drink dispenser.
“You can pour yourself a beer,” he said.
“You staying indoors?” she checked.
“It’s been a long day. I’m not that tired, but I wouldn’t mind logging into the computer inside my bedroom and reading up about the Association and this ship.” Especially the ship. This was the biggest, fanciest vessel he’d been on.
Nodding, she drew a pint of a thick black ale. Her pout suggested she’d wanted a stein. He did note she’d gone for something fancier than what they’d drunk aboard the Union cruiser, but it wasn’t spirits-strength.
They settled in, sitting at opposite ends of the dining table. Kiels kicked her feet up then nearly put them down.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Relax. I get the feeling you’ll be in here a lot.”
“Assuming you don’t want me to stand guard outside,” she said. “I can do that, too.”
“Seems uncomfortable. There’s enough space for you to chill inside.”
“Thanks.” She sipped her beer and her gaze turned thoughtful. “So, Empress Cieria IX. I think her real name’s Faeri or Faeru. She was the rightful heir, had dominated her many sisters, charmed the gigantic court on our homeworld, and even ransomed back the Yinil Chief Admiral after ambushing one of their fleets. Woman of legend.”
“… is that the story? She’s amazing and became Empress?”
Kiels grinned. “Oh no. The story is that her younger sister, who was 2nd-in-line, stole the throne out from under her. The then-Empress died in foldspace, and the Empire changed when her fleet emerged into reality. Empress Gattima was crowned aboard the ship and immediately ordered all her sisters executed.”
“Seems… excessive. An obvious coup, right?” he suggested.
“Kinda. We’ve had a policy since around the civil war to always execute the remaining Imperial heirs, or else they’ll throw us into endless civil wars and plotting. Some old coup attempt threw the homeworld into disarray, the military appointed a random heir, and she solved it by executing all her sisters and both political factions. These days, the former Empress’s faction either retires—under penalty of death if they’re caught doing anything—or serves the new Empress unquestionably.”
“Alright. So how does our rightful Empress take control? If the military dislikes civil wars, no way she starts one.” He paused, then realized he’d nearly forgotten the reason this conversation started.
Kiels continued before he could suggest anything, “She hid as an officer in the Maelstrom for a few cycles. Her performance caught her sister’s eye, who wanted to form an elite cadre of bodyguards to keep her safe. Cieria shows up, meets with her sister along with a bunch of other military officers, and walks out alone, covered in blood with the Empress’s head in her hand. Then she screams out ‘glory to the conquerors’ while everyone stares in shock.”
“And then someone shot her?” Ethan suggested, then shook his head. “I’m guessing there’s some embellishment, but she basically took back her own throne by exploiting the weakness of her sister’s lack of good bodyguards. Hopefully you can keep my head attached to my shoulders.”
“You don’t have any brothers stuffed to the gills with the latest and greatest cybernetics and the best combat training the galaxy can offer? Oh, and an absurd amount of gene therapy to make him a killing machine before the cybernetics come into play.”
“No. Just Lati when she’s drunk and upset.”
“Eh, I can take her in a close-quarters fight. Not in long-range and definitely not in space. Paladins can take out small escort ships if they have big enough guns.”
He finished off his beer and slipped into his bedroom. The story seemed like a pointless distraction at first, but the more he thought on it, the more he realized it bothered him.
If Ethan was going to be running an interstellar nation with its own military, how could he stand up against a monster like the Taeran Empress? The galaxy was a harsh place and the gap between himself and those who traditionally ran it was immense.
Tomorrow, he’d start to close that gap with his newfound wealth.
After waking and doing his morning exercises—being in space made him sedentary, so they were important—he peeked into the living room. Kiels sipped steaming black coffee from a thermos the length of her forearm. Unlike their alcohol, Taer preferred weaker caffeinated drinks. Their coffee of choice was like a ginger Americano poured so tall to make American serving sizes look small.
“Morning,” she said, rising and walking over to the drink dispenser. “Get you something?”
“I can use the machine myself,” he said.
When she didn’t budge, he shrugged and took a seat.
“A Faecrim oat espresso,” he said.
Of the major interstellar races, the Faecrim and Hotum were the only ones to drink anything similar to milk. But the Hotum didn’t drink coffee, so he’d gravitated toward Faecrim coffees. The horsegirls’ love of oats meant they’d flooded the galaxy with oat milk products, although few used Earth-style oats. The patents on those meant they were considered a premium product.
“You didn’t sleep here, did you?” he asked, noticing how rumpled Kiels looked. Her hair was tousled and her uniform full of creases.
She shrugged. “I don’t plan on pulling 24-hour shifts all the time, but I didn’t want my first night as your Praetorian to end in embarrassment. What if Mortami has a spy on-board? Or some rich asshole in the Association doesn’t want you taking over? I’ve slept in worse conditions. Napping in some derelict in zero-g is hell.”
“I’ll get Heafi to install a bed,” he said, and Kiels grimaced. “There’ll be more than enough room if we remove the decorative furniture. Maybe you can use the office, as I can’t imagine what I’ll use it for.”
“Administrator stuff,” she grunted. “But thanks. It’s easier to keep you safe this way and, uh, more comfortable.” She shifted uncomfortably.
“You can use the shower in my room to freshen up.” Ethan jabbed a thumb toward his bedroom. “We’ll be out most of the day, and we were busy yesterday, too.”
Her eyes narrowed, before she grunted again. “There’ll be some extra guards when they serve breakfast, just like last night. I’ll clean up then.”
True to her prediction, a Void Hound accompanied a pair of Association soldiers when an attendant arrived with his breakfast. He’d expected to have his order taken, like last night.
Unfortunately, he suspected he’d offended the chefs. Heafi’s comment about being unaware of his needs reminded him that the crew might not know what was safe to serve him, so he’d chosen a simple dish he regularly ate.
So this morning they served him a platter of breakfast food from across the galaxy. Strangely colored omelets, seafood made from alien fish and crustaceans, fancy displays of leafy greens in all the colors of the rainbow, multi-colored teas, a spicy jello dish that was like congee crossed with mapo tofu, and far more. At least he recognized the blackened star oat porridge, although the nature of its flavor continued to elude him.
What exactly was a blackened star and what should it taste like?
“Wow. Your predecessor ate more like a Taeran female than a male,” Kiels said as she entered the living room, still drying her hair.
He blinked up at her, and tried not to stare. She only wore the skintight black undersuit of her uniform. The imprint of her underwear drew his eye, but the undersuit clung to every contour of her body. She was barefoot, too.
“Did I miss something?” the other Void Hound asked, a smirk rising to her face as she looked between him and Kiels. “Cleaning up so I can’t smell how hard you fucked him?”
“Would it be any of your business if I did?” Kiels shot back. She flicked her hair over one shoulder and placed a hand on one hip. “I can take over guard duty from here. Shoo.”
“Yeah, yeah. I won’t get in your way. Come on, girls.” The other Hound chased the openly envious Association soldiers out of the room.
Once the door slid shut, Kiels snorted and tapped one finger on Ethan’s forehead. “I’m not going to complain if you get a hard-on from seeing my like this, but you’ll get jumped if you act like this around the crew. You don’t look like the sort who will say no.”
He nearly looked away, but decided to hold his ground. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or did this to chase them away.”
“Both, but mostly the latter.” She eyed him for a second, then scanned his food. “Do you need a hand with this? You’re pretty tall for a male, but this is a lot of food.”
“Eat as much as you want.”
After Kiels polished off most of the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast he’d been served, they both dressed properly. He’d gotten his fill of seeing her in what amounted to a bodystocking.
They found Lati and Heafi near the ship’s exit after he sent them a message over the ship’s comms. Three additional Hounds joined them, plus a dozen Association soldiers. The ordinary soldiers only carried taser-rifles, but the Hounds, including Kiels, had upgraded their sidearms. Lati, by contrast, had ditched her illegal railgun.
Each Hound carried a hefty pistol with bulky heat capacitor sitting behind the magazine. Pistol-railguns, and the size of the magazines suggested they used smart munitions.
“I take it those can punch through shields just like this gun?” Ethan tapped the needle pistol Sai had given him.
“Not quite.” Kiels shook her head. “That thing is fancy Vaelix tech. Psionic shit that teleports through the shield, and then splatters the target’s organs once it penetrates. I double-tapped poor mousey, but she was fucking dead the moment the needle round hit her. Any torso hit is fatal with that thing.”
“<Ram an egg inside the Priestess,>” Lati said, eyes wide as she stared at Ethan’s gun in horror. “Did she just give you that? It’s gotta be worth more than your old ship.”
“They only work over very short ranges,” Kiels said. “The bullet can’t hold the psychic charge for long, and it’s delivered by the firearm. Lots of stories about Faecrim marines toting needle carbines during the crusade, though. We learned that being metal on the inside makes them less effective.”
“Duly noted. I’ll get the rest of my organs coated with steel like yours.”
Kiels smirked at the dragon, who stared back. They exchanged looks for several long moments, leaving Ethan confused as to what they felt about each other.
“Um, we’re not clothes shopping?” Heafi asked.
“We can do that, too,” he said. “Lati might need some for the trip. I definitely will. I’m open to advice for what I should wear as a newly appointed Sovereign Administrator.”
The ebony dragon pouted at him while tugging at her hot pants and tank top. Heafi nodded enthusiastically and began tapping away at her tablet, no doubt searching for and cataloguing ideas for how to dress him.
Going shopping on Dominio was nothing new. Aside from his ship, it had been the closest thing to home for the past few years. The sheer size of the station meant he’d bounced across it to find things, especially as a privateer of his means never knew what docking bay he’d get.
But even then, he’d stuck to the cheaper strata. Not always as seedy as the shithole he’d found Lati in, but he never so much as glanced at the superior strata. Almost every superior stratum charged an entry fee to keep out the riff raff like him. While they waived them for a bunch of reasons, that list didn’t include being a human or male.
Evidently, associating with Sai did get it waived. Heafi suggested several strata Yany recommended to her, and they involved another train ride. Once again, they strode through the security checkpoints without trouble.
Only on the far side of them did Ethan realized they’d skipped the part where they paid.
“Do I want to ask how we have access to the entire station?” he asked Kiels.
“You’ve been registered as a Union collaborator,” she told him. “The strata still charge entry fees, but they get sent to the executor sponsoring us. Everything we do under an executor is their responsibility. Sai can charge us for it, and I guess the Association, so you can take it up with her later.”
“I guess we’ll see if she’s a penny-pincher.”
“She might not be, but her unicorn might be. Never underestimate the willingness of a bureaucrat to do insane shit over a few credits. The Union once caused a war to go on for five more cycles because they refused to ratify a peace treaty over a thousand credit debt to a bank that got destroyed in the war.”
Ethan suspected there was a long and horrible story behind that. He genuinely wondered if the Union intentionally inflicted torture on everyone with crippling bureaucracy or if it was merely a function of its size.
The stratum they arrived in looked like a multi-story expo. They exited into an atrium that glowed with ads for cybernetics, combat drugs, and point defense systems. An ad for some sort of laser system that burned out missiles blazed fifty feet in the air. A cruiser shot through space far too fast while missiles exploded in the hundreds thanks to a magical laser.
“Fucking scam shit,” Lati muttered.
Each level of the stratum focused on a different product, turning the place into a city-sized megamall. Bottom level was all about starship weaponry and systems. Massive stores with holographic display booths showcasing railguns, missile systems, lasers, ablative plating, electronic countermeasures, and all the fancy shit Ethan used to window shop for. He’d been in the less fancy versions the various manufacturers maintained near the shipyards and had bought his mining drones from one last year.
Above that came the ship internals. Med bays, bridge consoles, cybernetic upgrade and installation rigs, and even a small cloning bay suitable for heavy cruisers.
“There’s not much here we don’t have on-board,” Heafi pointed out when he glanced at the floor catalogue. “Even the cloning bay. 75% of the ship’s crew are clones.”
He stared at her. “Seriously? They don’t look it.”
“Recent events mean that a large amount of the Rim’s population are clones. I selected veterans for the crew when we left, which has created far more population variance than usual. Very few clones have less than ten cycles of experience.” She sounded proud of that fact.
One store on this level dedicated itself to Pathbuilder compartments, which were heavily shielded chambers within the ship that the Pathbuilder isolated themselves within inside foldspace. Half the store featured examples of psionic shielding, thick metal and ceramic plating, and displays full of technical specifications to inform buyers what level of psychic could use what product. The other half looked more like a homewares and furniture store, although it included a curtained section with dildos the size of Ethan’s arm.
“Wow. If the fox owns that you might need to get a cybernetic dick,” Lati said, eyes wide as she stared at the glowing pink dildo big enough to pole dance with.
“Fuck no,” Kiels growled. “Gotta stay natural. Take something to pimp your size, maybe, but the whole point of a man is to feel the real deal. I can ram metal and polymer up my pussy any day of the week.”
“Thanks for the boost of confidence,” Ethan said drily.
He glanced at Heafi, only to realize she’d fled already. They found her outside with a face redder than a cherry. Her tail attempted to take flight. The other Hounds and guards grinned, but knew to keep silent.
Finally, above that, they found the cybernetics stores. Fancy ones. When nothing had price tags, Ethan knew he was too poor to afford anything. Normally.
In the past, store clerks approached him out of curiosity or flirtatiousness. Now they flocked to him because he entered the store with a unicorn Faecrim and a small army of bodyguards. A man with a dozen women on his arms didn’t worry about money, even if the clerks assumed the cash wasn’t his.
“Welcome, Mister Coorlim,” a Faecrim clerk welcomed him. She looked like a typical clone, save for the signs of aging. A retired veteran. “Are you upgrading an existing piece, expanding your cybernetics, or perusing for another?” Her blonde horse ears twitched as her eyes audibly whirred while taking in the group.
This store dedicated itself to mechanical limbs. Particularly for combat, unlike another they’d entered that appeared to be about fashion statements. Although he had found the arm with the built-in cocktail maker amusing. Lati once again stared too long at the one with built-in sex toys.
“Upgrading,” Ethan said. He reached down and tapped his existing prosthetic. “I suspect you can tell, but this is a pretty basic one. I want the best I can get for combat.”
“Durable,” Kiels added. “We don’t want it denting if he kicks something hard with it or breaking if it gets shot.”
The Faecrim’s eyebrows shot up, but she nodded. Her eyes glazed over for a second, before she led them to a specific section of the store.
“Your current model uses an older standard, popular in the Taer Empire,” she explained. “It’s arguably the most popular standard, despite its age. The socket fits almost any cybernetic leg made for the past five hundred cycles. I’ll need to plug in to the access port to check bandwidth and electronics, as that will limit some accessories.”
“I doubt the Union put anything fancy in, given where I got the replacement,” Ethan said.
She shook her head. “The electronics usually depend on when the socket was manufactured, not where. They do need upgrading or replacement every ten to twenty cycles, depending on usage and maintenance.”
He’d heard that when he got the leg. The mechanical parts of the socket might outlast him, but the electronics slowly burned out. They’d estimated twenty cycles to replace it when installed, and he’d had it for around ten by now.
After the Faecrim ushered him to a nearby seat, he rolled up his pants and let her take a closer look at his leg. At a distance, it looked almost normal. Synth-skin covered it, including fake leg hairs. The alloy steel shell remained hidden completely from view. Only a close inspection would notice the oddly shiny appearance of his skin, or the plasticky stretch marks around his foot. A scar ran around where the socket joined the stub.
“Huh. So you went for the natural look,” Kiels said.
“Should leave it bare,” Lati muttered. “Looks cooler.”
“You’ll have the option for both,” the salesperson said with a smile. “Although all these models are significantly more advanced than your current prosthetic. May I?” Her hands tentatively hovered closer to his knee, where his real leg joined with the prosthetic.
He nodded.
The Faecrim sprayed something on his leg. After a minute, she slowly peeled away a little bit of the synthetic skin to reveal the metal beneath. It felt like a tickling sensation, even as she opened up the access port. A cable ran between his leg and the side of her chest.
“I’ve never asked if anyone else has ports,” he said, unsure what else to say.
“Every full cybernetic prosthetic needs at least one,” Lati said. “Biological enhancements usually rely on a module in the brain, but those often come with an access port, too. If you get a proper omnimodule installed, you get better control over your cybernetics, too. She wouldn’t be able to do anything with your leg unless you gave her permission.”
“Hardware access is always dangerous,” Kiels said. “It’s why nobody else likes hanging wires, unlike you Yinil.”
The dragon stuck her tongue out. The saleswoman ignored them while nodding to herself.
“I believe everything except the most demanding models are available,” the Faecrim said with the sort of smile that said she expected a big commission. “How soon do you need your upgrade, sir?”
“As soon as possible,” he said. “If it’ll take longer than a week, it’ll be a problem.”
She glanced at the mannequins on display, with their many cybernetic limbs. A long pause resulted.
“Most models can be acquired within two days, but they may require an emergency restocking fee. Especially for a male build,” she said, biting her lip. “Most models we have in stock are of a… defensive nature.”
“Money is no object,” Heafi said.
The Faecrim glanced between the unicorn and Ethan, who nodded.
“If she says that, it’s true,” he said. “Don’t worry about price.”
Holy shit, that felt good to say.
The models varied a lot less than he’d like. Almost everything used the same alloys, build, and structure. The holographic displays tailored everything to him, too.
When he checked with Lati, he quickly discovered why. She gave him an odd look.
“Ethan, you could probably rebuild your entire damn body for the price they’ll charge you for your leg,” the dragon said. “The legs have the same specs because they’re built to survive space combat. The only people buying shit this pricey are Vaelix officers who will come back a hundred cycles later and claim it’s garbage because some precursor bullshit scratched the paint.”
“So… I’m basically looking at the extras,” he said.
“And how good you think it’ll look planted in the fox’s ass, I guess.” She shrugged. “This shit is almost too fancy for me and I’m 90% metal. My opinion? Buy the one that offers what you think you’re lacking. You want to jump like a video game character? Get some overpowered motors in it.”
Next, he checked with Kiels.
“I’d say durability, but it’s just a leg.” She gave him an odd look again. “Sometimes simple is good. You want a leg that can withstand a railgun round and let you kick someone’s head in? Get one with a spring-motor function. Prosthetics are fancy like that. Toys, almost. Hell, you can buy five and switch them out like clothing.”
Toys, huh. From her perspective, it certainly looked that way. Elite soldiers possessed enhanced bodies, but they did everything their old body did, just far better.
Fashion didn’t matter much. He planned to use synth-skin again. Even so, he sprung for the fancy leg with angular shins. If he got a second prosthetic, he could run several times faster than an ordinary human and it could unleash its energy in a burst, allowing him to shoot forward or kick hard enough to punch a hole in softer steel.
“We’ll contact you as soon as it’s ready,” the salesperson said, smiling broadly. “The fitting process should be straightforward. We promise exact tolerances, especially as it’s a direct upgrade for an existing socket. No surgery is required.”
That told him the store might offer surgery should he desire to chop off a limb for a new prosthetic. Hardly a surprising thing in the galaxy.
Next, they went upstairs to find body armor and weapons. This included acquiring personal shields for him and Lati. His armor turned out to be a fancy body suit with gel plates that hardened into ceramic when something struck them. He ignored the leers of Lati and the Hounds, as the body suit hugged his crotch closely.
Although he did buy a new crotch guard. If he needed armor beneath the body suit, might as well ensure it was good stuff.
He nearly didn’t buy a weapon, thanks to the fancy needle pistol, but Yany’s words haunted him.
Sure, he could use the same guns as the Hounds or Association, but why not see if there was some special rifle the military wouldn’t spring for?
“There’s not much I can’t hook you up with,” the Taer gun merchant said. “But I’ll need some direction and somewhere to deliver it to if it’s in breach of station protocols. Oh, and if you piss off the horsies and they confiscate it, not our fault. We’re not liable for your stupidity.”
She wore a corporate uniform bearing the logo of AKMA, a weapons manufacturing juggernaut from the Taer Dominion. A pair of pitch-black cybernetic eyes buzzed around in her skull, and no doubt got a good read on his companions. She’d stared down the Hounds when they’d entered, before relaxing upon seeing Ethan.
“Why do you even need a gun?” Kiels asked. “We’re here. You’ve got your fancy sidearm if things get rough.”
“Because things will get rough,” Ethan said, and her expression became unreadable. He faced the salesperson. “I have a pretty detailed wish list.”
The merchant grinned and leaned on her counter. The ads flashing on it lit up her face. “Let me hear it.”
“A rifle of some sort. Capable of punching through personal shields. Usable in a vacuum—although I’m not aware of many guns that aren’t,” he said.
“It’s mostly a cooling and sealing problem. Also need to avoid any internals that rely on gravity. Fancier stuff might have internal recoil dispersion so you don’t go flying off, or even ways to remove it using psionics.”
“Seems unreliable,” he said.
“Yeah, we put a lot of tech in guns but the more of it built into the firing mechanism itself, the more shit that goes wrong. But what are you really after?”
He nodded. “Something that can reduce the edge a more skilled opponent has over me. I’m a decent shot, but every clone has the training and experience of a bioengineered supersoldier in them.”
She leaned back and grunted. “I don’t detect a chip in your head. That limits the possibilities a bit, but there are some… limited lines around. Usually stuff ordered in but never picked up, or promotional crap nobody wanted. Expensive as hell. I know you’ve got cash.” The clerk nodded at his bodyguards. “But how much?”
“If you can find him a gun that can keep him alive when a spec ops clone wants him dead, you’ll have more than earned any commission,” Kiels grunted, before Heafi could get a word in.
The clerk whistled. “Alright. Gimme a few minutes to comb the warehouse catalog.”
A few minutes turned into nearly an hour. He let Lati buy a new pistol, as she’d been eying the mini-railguns the Hounds carried. Kiels eyed off a fancy railgun that looked as big and heavy as anything he’d seen, so he asked Heafi to buy it secretly.
“I’ve got two options for you,” the clerk eventually said. She showed him images and 3D scans of a gun on the counter display, including a hologram. “AKMA gave us a pair of these multi-purpose rifles like twenty cycles ago. Part of a push for a new universal cartridge that failed miserably. It’s got a billion bells and whistles, but it’s main selling point is that you can load it with multiple ammo types and switch on the fly. They’re all smart munitions, too, so they’ll help cover the skill difference.”
“And the other?” he asked, when Kiels frowned. “Not sure a gun with limited ammo helps much.”
“An absurdly expensive custom-made gun ordered by one of the Hotum’s God-Queens for a servant.” The clerk grinned. “By the time it was finished, she’d been replaced as planetary governor for excess spending and the order was cancelled. Some goddess, eh?” She shook her head. “Anyway, it’s by Granus Inc. Old money. Make damn near everything. This thing can withstand the gravity of a sun, has a built-in taser, handles smart munitions, double mags, and uses psionics to make your bullets hit harder and more accurately.”
“Granus?” Kiels asked. “They make the Vaelix’s needle pistols. Although I’m betting this isn’t half as good.”
The clerk’s gaze shot to Ethan’s holster and she nodded. “Probably that one, yeah. I only brought this out because you have it. When I say expensive, I mean it. You can buy a small spaceship for this. But it’s a reliable gun, even if its fancy tech breaks down.”
“Heafi?” he asked.
The unicorn took over the rest of the transaction. Given she didn’t even blink at the price, he assumed it wasn’t a concern. The clerk’s expression turned to shock for a few moments, before she proceeded with the sale.
Once finished, it was time for clothes shopping. He expected to lose the rest of the day. Or night. Tracking time was difficult on a space station, as Dominio only simulated night and day in specific areas. Most people were expected to determine their own cycles. They’d only be up and about for half a day, so after some lunch, he let Heafi lead them to a different stratum to gush over clothing. Hordes of people joined them. The store truly was city sized.
At some point, he found himself separated from the others, with just Kiels keeping him company. She’d grabbed a couple cans of soda and pressed one against his cheek.
“Stay hydrated,” she said.
He cracked the can open and took a swig. After a few moments, he said, “You’re acting differently after the bar.”
No response. He looked up at the towering wolfgirl, and saw her grimacing.
“Gonna be honest, I figured you’d turn into some soft male the moment you found out you were rich and had an army of women at your beck and call,” she said. “I asked you what you’d do if you got the Rim, right? Back when we first met. To me, the answer is obvious. Become a rich, lazy fuck. You’ve got a dick and a lot of willing women who wouldn’t hesitate to bend over, even before you got cash.”
“Lotta assumptions there,” he said. “For one, if I didn’t have cash, I wonder how long I’d last before someone realizes they don’t have to pay.”
She snorted. “Probably. But that’s the thing. You got the money. Protection.” She jabbed a thumb against her chest. “So I’m shocked that you’re bothering to buy a fancy gun for yourself? Planning to get in more fights, despite being the newly appointed Sovereign-Dick? You nearly got yourself killed in the bar, and you brushed yourself off without even noticing. Almost every clone I’ve fought alongside freaks out after their first near-death experience.”
“That wasn’t my first near-death experience,” he said.
“I figured.” Kiels finally turned and faced him, and the height difference became extremely apparent as she stared down at him with her cybernetic red eyes. “You’re making something of yourself that I don’t understand. But I like it.”
“Really?” he asked, skeptical.
Her hand pressed against the wall and she leaned over him, as if trying to intimidate him. Her eyes stared into his. A deep fire lingered within them, but so did a barely contained violence.
“People with power and wealth like to imagine they’re safe,” Kiels growled. “That they can hunker down and make plebs like us fight for them. The Taer were like that ages ago. Then it all went to shit, and the rich assholes burned for it. Good thing, too. Need them to understand fear every so often. Can’t have a functioning civilization if those at the top lose touch with the bottom. The Empress could join the Hounds tomorrow and nobody would notice, and that’s why we respect her.”
Ethan frowned, unsure if Kiels was threatening him or what. “I gathered that from the story you told. You respect her. Do you respect me?”
She blinked at him. “More than I expected of any male. You’re doing the right thing. Fighting. Gearing up.” She grinned at him wolfishly, teeth shining in the light from the nearby vending machine. “Even if you hang out on the bridge all day, with me by your side, somebody will strike at your heart. Maybe it will be assassins at night. Or a boarding team. Maybe the fox will try to get rid of you. But if you can’t fight, you’ll become dead weight eventually. A male is just a dick. But a dick that can fight? Well… that’s different.”
She pulled back and took a long slug from her can as if she hadn’t tried to intimidate him. Or whatever had been her intention.
Heafi found him, holding up a dainty white dress that sparkled and looked like it might not even reach her thighs. “Ethan, how do you think this will look on me?”
Shopping turned out to be his best distraction of the week. Heafi buried him in paperwork once he returned, and he found himself reading in his quarters between brief haunts around his new cruiser.
A week later, he had his new cybernetic leg attached and a fancy new rifle. His ship prepared to leave Dominio Hyrium and return to the Folimai Rim, where he’d be formally appointed as Sovereign Administrator.
They just had to make the trip through foldspace without any nasty surprises.
- - - - -
Commentary: This chapter is around the point where I think people got a bit bored and frustrated in V1, due to the lack of any action and wanting to get to the casino fight. Making the bar fight and making Mortami a threat (plus opening with some action) help this, I think, and pushes the next major bit of action to when they go into foldspace. It's still probably too long, particularly with the chapter lengths being on the long side.
I do want to introduce the ship properly, as it will be a bit of a second home, and help with Ethan settling into "the high life." Same with the shopping, as he gets to enjoy being rich. The Kiels stuff is mostly a chance to actually develop her as a character.