"Well, the duchess didn't like what I had to say about her city, so she-" Doumont related as he walked out of the conference room, closely followed by Raekhimnijong and Annabelle.
"Zoe, stay for a minute." Shrev requested.
Zoe stopped by the door and turned to face what she guessed was now her sovereign. "Yes, my lord?"
"We'll be stopping in Haven in two days. There'll be a surprise for you there." The Dictator began.
"What sort of surprise?" Zoe asked cautiously.
"An old acquaintance of yours." Shrev clarified.
"Anything else, my lord?" She quietly stated.
"Yes, actually. Two things." Shrev began. "First, you sit in on our meetings. That means you don't have to use the honorifics unless you want to."
Zoe's face remained expressionless.
"Second, you must have the worst balance of anyone I know, because there are no stairs on this ship." The Dictator said with more than a hint of respect. "Now get yourself to medical - don't worry about your shoes, they'll turn up."
Zoe curtsied as best she could, and walked off.
"You really put her at ease, my lord." A voice which sounded eerily like Zoe's emitted from the shadows.
"Yes, because I'm sure you beating her like a two dollar prostitute was a work of manipulative genius." Shrev replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I wouldn't be surprised if she has trouble sleeping for the next week or so."
"Violence leaves a lot less to interpretation than putting on your best 'I sincerely am not the bad guy' face." Annabelle defended giddily.
"But it also makes enemies." The Dictator observed neutrally.
Annabelle skipped forward until her face was less than thirty centimeters from Shrev's. "Yes. I am now her enemy - which is okay, because our roles don't coincide." Annabelle noted in a whisper, suddenly serious.
The Dictator looked Annabelle in the eye.
"Well?" Annabelle prompted after a minute.
"Ah, I was just thinking about how much your eyes twinkle after you've committed an act of horrific cruelty." Shrev replied honestly. "Seriously, you should smile more - you have everything else."
"I'll show you a new definition of cruelty if you don't knock it off." Annabelle threatened teasingly. "Seriously now, what are we going to do about the Amatyi? She needs to get motivated or she needs to be foisted off somewhere she can't do any harm."
"Oh no. I'm so terrified." The Dictator teased. "I hope I have an answer for that. If it isn't an answer, it will give me a window into what the answer is."
"You're the boss." Annabelle shrugged and turned away.
The Dictator half-reached after her, then thought better of it.
--------------
Zoe sat in the back seat of the orange and white helicopter she'd seen two years ago. The Dictator sat beside her while the pilot, fortunately not Annabelle, brought them down from the Absolute Power to the city of Haven.
"Sitting" wouldn't exactly be the right word to describer her position, however, "Glued to the window" would be more accurate. To be fair, there was a good reason to take in the scenery.
Whereas other cities had built out as their militias forced back the jungle, Haven had access to a pre-catacylsm wildlife shield ever since the start so it had built up in order to stay within the shield. The entire city occupied only twenty-five square kilometers, but the median height of the structures was .97 kilometers. The seemingly-impossible city was festooned with helicopter pads, airship mooring masts, and walkways between its buildings positioned in intervals to allow smaller helicopters to fly through the city.
Whereas the inner city was formed of a near-futuristic diamond composite there'd been a supply of in storage at Haven's founding, the outer city is composed primarily of runways, large airship docks, and the occasional home. But with work crews pushing back the jungle, it was only a matter of time until Haven experienced a population explosion from immigration due to newly available land.
"It's a beauty, isn't it?" Shrev asked quietly, half watching Zoe strain to see more.
"It's not like anything I've ever seen before." She replied honestly. "It must be wonderful to live here."
"That's a subject of much debate. Ask Monsterguard, and Haven's people are weak because they largely never had to fight the jungle. Only the occasional Megaspider." He related. "Ask me, and I say Haven was horrible to live in pre-Tayloristan due to strict birth control so as not to outgrow their living space. Haven is an example of using gifts you are given without working too much for yourself after you get them."
"Really?" Zoe asked incredulously. "I figured you'd love it - the city sits in a position of power within the jungle, unique among your people."
"Also your people." Shrev noted softly. "You're one of us now. No. Haven as a city is largely useless - everything you see here that isn't inside that 25 square kilometer zone? That was built by engineers from Fromidda, Apocalypta, Monsterguard, and a thousand other places."
"No. Not my people." Zoe stated with finality.
--------------
The helicopter landed on a pad jutting out from the side of a structure on the northern side of the city.
"Come." Shrev ordered firmly as he exited the aircraft.
Zoe rolled her eyes and followed, green knee-length dress and white heels reflecting the sunlight.
Waiting on the pad by a door into the structure were two women. Well, two women flanking a man with a bag on his head. The women were dressed in dark suits with sunglasses & shiny black flat shoes.
"So we're meeting the depressing parade?" Zoe remarked as she followed the Dictator towards them.
"No. You're meeting the Tayloristani secret service, who have a...decision for you to make." Shrev explained, a steel glint in his eye.
"A decision?" Zoe asked. "What do you mean by 'decision'?"
The Dictator quietly stepped in front of the dark suited women, who saluted. The one on the lift struck their captive on the back of his knees, forcing him to the ground. Zoe noticed his hands were cuffed together. The second woman then ripped the bag off his head, revealing a bearded man who blinked as if unaccustomed to sunlight.
"What is this?" Zoe asked suspiciously.
"A terrorist. He was picked up by the secret service nearly two years ago, determined that he has no useful information, and when we figured out he was also a man from your past life we followed policy." The Dictator answered calmly.
"Why am I seeing this?" Zoe demanded. "What happens to him now?"
"This man is responsible for a great deal of the trauma you have suffered." Shrev continued quietly. "Remember him?"
"You didn't answer my question." Zoe demanded again.
"I don't have to answer any question." The Dictator stated coldly. "Do you remember this man?"
Zoe looked at the wretch struggling to his knees. She saw his eyes, his beard, a scar on his left hand. He should have a pot belly. She thought absently. Wait, why? That was when it hit her.
"Oh no. You brought me here to confront Mas- I mean, Izzil?" Zoe whimpered.
"What is to be done with him?" Shrev asked quietly. "By our laws, it is your decision."
Zoe whirled and began to walk away, a tear eking out of her right eye. She came back to the helicopter, only to find the pilot leaning on the door drinking a flask of alcohol.
The Dictator raised his voice. "You will not be permitted to leave until you make a choice."
"You, you..." Zoe spluttered.
"You're part of our government." The Dictator began as he took a step towards her. "Every day, you are responsible for 11 million people. Every hour, your choices, attitudes, prejudices, can cost the lives of thousands." He continued, his voice becoming quieter and harder with every syllable. "Like it or not, you survived our jungles - you're a national icon, and neither of us has any choice about you being on my circle of advisers."
"But now, its up to you." Shrev promulgated, voice icy. "A leader makes a choice when a choice is presented to her - picks the best of all available worlds. If you can move past your history, lead my people, then make a choice. If you can't, there's the door." The Dictator indicated the edge of the helipad. "That particular edge is only five meters above a walkway - sure you'll get banged up a bit, but you can renounce what you are and flee the country. Now choose." The Dictator finished his speech, then climbed into the helicopter.
Though helicopter blades, music, and construction reverberated through the city, that helipad was silent save for the whimpering of the prisoner as he finished fighting his way to his knees. Zoe turned around and hesitantly walked toward him, tears streaing down her cheeks.
"So this is it." Izzil grinned. "Killed by my own property for the amusement of the grand Dictator of Tayloristan."
Zoe stopped in front of Izzil. "I'm not your property." She stated, cold eking through sobs. "You always were the loser in that deal."
"Shoot him." Zoe then asked the secret service agents before turning away. Behind her, she heard the soft pop of a silenced weapon.
----------
The Mayor dashed around the banquet hall, frantically moving chairs from one location to another. "Mrs Mayor!" A voice called out. "What on earth are you doing?"
"I'm getting this hall ready for the international anti-slavery conference the Dictator has demanded we host!" She shouted frantically.
"Calm down." The male voice continued. "We have a week, and we don't even know who's coming."
"But this city is Apocalypta! It looks bad, it always has! The least we can do is make this hall look good." The mayor pleaded.
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Captain Ursula lounged in her chair. Ever since they sank the pirate Santiago's ship and re-introduced torpedoes, the HAV-667 Garagrensis had reaped easy assignment after easy assignment. I could get used to riding on a wavve of mediocrity. She thought to herself.
"Captain, we have received a new assignment from command." One of the specialists whose names she was no longer trying to keep track of informed. "We are to participate in a cultural exchange with the Leth - apparently we're being directed to one of their naval bases."
"And we're a warship." Ursula sighed. "Fine, we'll go - let's just hope they talked to the Leth beforehand."
----------------
Billiam sat up from the lounge chair he'd set up on the deck of Old Reliable. How long was I asleep? The Captain was just checking our mail from the homeland. He looked up. Two hours, if I read the sun right. Where's the captain?
Billiam eased himself off the chair, wind rustling against his bare skin, then wandered up to the bridge. Captain Harkness was huddled in a corner, muttering something to himself. Lying on the floor was an open letter.
"Captain, what's wrong?" Billiam asked.
"Thought is was over. Should have realized, it's never over to them. No no no, can't go back, can't go back." Captain Harkness muttered. "Did this to get away from it - ruritan. Nero."
"Captain?" Billiam questioned with concern.
-------------
At station Aleph-Merida, all was usual. Corporal William Tenny was manning his post in the station as the night shift slept below and Lieutenant Bertram & Corporal Ruthless enjoyed each other's company in the rec room/infirmary.
I am still not comfortable with that. Corporal Tenny thought to himself. And that darn Flight Officer Seymour never did bring our drop tanks back.
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Corporal Jacob Taylor wasn't sleeping. He was writing a letter to a pen pal in Apocalypta. Over the last few letters, they had disclosed their mutual dissatisfaction with the current regime. His friend had said she found their standpoint on other sapient races worrisome, and he disclosed his story about being the Dictator's legitimate son cheated of his authority. She had asked the reasonable question of why he didn't try to get it back.
---------------
A woman breathed in the night air and smelled salt. Around her, a bustling city handled commerce through both airships and waterships. Torches lit the city itself, a relic of the people's superstition about electric lights. Ahead of her, though, were electronic lights.
A massive steel structure spawned both water and sea, sparks flying from points within the frame as cranes and trucks brought more materials. Ahead of her was a steel wall contained by the structure.
Painted upon the wall in white were the words "CV-02".
