Hekate's Call, Chapter 29

It was another blistering hell-day on the beautiful, barren, radioactive planet Fucking-Nowhere and Hunter Falke was crawling through more rubble on the freshly bombed outskirts of a city. Didn't matter which one. A month and a half ago people lived here. Went to school here. Commuted to their little office jobs. All like the empire was a vague concept on the news and would never be at their doorstep. Scavengers hadn't even moved in yet since the place was still teeming with Imperial scouts and assorted mech squadrons doing drills.

And that was why freelancers like Hunter were oh-so-valuable to the rebellion. They never risked their scouts this early into a fresh occupation, but they still needed all the intelligence they could gather.

Her plan was simple and stupid. She was traveling as light as she could. All she had was her rifle and a week of food and water. A fresh little notebook and a pencil. Get in, get somewhere high, and camp it out for most of the week before getting out. The imperial patrols were a distance out from their little encampments and outposts. If she got in past the patrol and then didn't move, she wasn't likely to get caught.

It was nightfall by the time she'd gotten in close enough that stealth actually mattered. Starlight filtered through the broken buildings and shattered windows. The imperial army had learned that it needed to cover the base at night so it wasn't a pillar of light in the ruins. As Hunter got more sights on it and got ever closer she realized how big an outpost it was. A serious operation. Teeming with little officers and rank and file.

She got really close. Five stories up with a mostly ruined building between her and the outpost. She pulled together some tables and furniture and laid out her stuff in the room she was in. Her digital scope was great for this, but it was also already calibrated for her rifle and it was expensive and time consuming to recalibrate it if she removed it. So she had to set up like a sharpshooter back from the broken window so nothing could catch the sun and give her away. Had to do everything in the dark too.

It was a pain, but Hunter was used to it. She had a fantastic sight line for most of the base. Could see three of the main exits and plenty of the movement around the center of the camp. She could net a whole lot of money from this. Enough that maybe she could upgrade some of her gear.

The first night people were setting up. She counted the officers, making notes of features or names from lips she read, along with their ranks. Which groups arrived in what numbers, and what kind of equipment they were bringing in. Specific where possible. She used the scope to picture all the important people. The people that the rebellion would recognize.

It was the third day where things changed. There were still people coming and going. They were bringing in mobile carriers and setting up shop. Whatever it would be was going to be a big operation. And all of that ended up in her notebook. But none of that was what Ilina spent most of her time looking at through the scope of her rifle.

Idolatry was illegal. Or at least, that's what her mom had always said. It was wrong to depict the Goddess, or to invoke the Gods Below by name. Mama was religious though. It caused a lot of fights. There was always fighting. Hunter never took to any of it, of course. Especially after they both left. Still, idolatry was wrong, not because it was illegal, but because it felt wrong.

That was why it felt wrong to take a picture of that woman as she left the command tent.

She was different from the others. It wasn't just that her uniform didn't have any rank that she recognized. Or that her uniform was different than both the regular officers and the rank and file. It wasn't even that the others averted their eyes and made space for her as she walked through the camp.

That woman was different because she was divinity.

Every motion was precise and exact. Every detail of her uniform was perfect. If Hunter measured the speed of her steps it would almost certainly be an exact half-time march. Even the wind seemed to adjust so as to never ruffle the beautiful platinum hair that flowed from beneath that officer's cap. The longer she watched the woman the more she was convinced of it.

Maybe the heat she felt was the goddess herself trying to burn alive from the inside out, or maybe it was something else. It was a new sensation for the stupid, far too young to be taken seriously as a mercenary, girl no matter what it was. She'd been embarrassed and felt her face an ears get hot, but what feeling spread that burning feeling throughout one's body?

Well. Watching Her became a preoccupation very quickly. She was clearly very important to whatever operation as even some of the big names in the Imperium, Generals Kynilandre and Harvak, seemed to be taking lead from Her. The higher-ups didn't like Her, but they respected Her. That was more than enough to know She was the most important person at this base. That was why Hunter spent most of her day tracking Her.

She spent hours and hours perfecting every little detail of Her hair and uniform every day. Perfection wasn't easy. Hunter respected that kind of dedication, but could never manage it herself. Hard to keep up a beauty routine when you were constantly sleeping in the dirt with no uncontaminated water to wash with.

Every morning She would stand out in the open, watching all the people of the base go about their morning routines for exactly an hour. It was so routine that when Hunter woke up she would look down her scope and watch Her leave Her tent and go and stand before going off and beginning Her day. Hunter loved it.

It was one of those mornings where some private, the same one that always seemed to follow Her around and do Her errands, asked, "Handler, sir. If I may, why are you standing out here?"

She took a step forward and smiled that cold, heartless little smile and turned directly towards Hunter, tilting Her little cap up just enough that Hunter could see her eyes clearly for the first time.

"I was just wondering," She said clearly, no guessing required from Hunter, "if our little guest over there is ever planning on taking the shot."

Hunter's breath caught in her throat as She waved politely.

There was no way that woman could have spotted her from there. Even through the digital scope, a facsimile of the real thing, those eyes burned like dying star. Burning a hole directly through Hunter's fragile soul. How long had she been spotted? Oh, gods below, she was hyperventilating now.

Hunter rolled and fell off the dining room table that she'd been using as a perch and clattered through a chair. She desperately tried to buckle her pants and grab her things. The most important things first. She had her rifle, with all her pictures in her digital scope, and her notebook. Her bag had been packed with a few things but none of them worth dying over, especially with the payday coming from everything she'd collected here.

She slung the rifle over her shoulder and hastily adjusted her bra back in place -- why the fuck was she even wearing this? It wasn't like there was anything to protect or whatever -- and did up her jacket. The last thing she grabbed from her backpack before making a run for it was a wet wipe to clean off her hands. It was such a childish thought, but if she was captured she didn't want anyone to know she was masturbating.

She'd managed to clear the door of the room she'd been using just as two soldiers rounded the corner cautiously. Hunter saw one of them raise a gun and put herself through another door before either of them could shout at her to stop. This apartment had a hole to the floor below in the bedroom. She ran towards at full speed and jumped down without looking where she was landing. She hit the floor down hard and rolled into the room, picking herself back up ready to sprint for more.

"And you wanted to go up the north stairs to cut 'im off," one of the two soldiers waiting in the room said to the other around their cigarette.

The other rolled her eyes and stepped forward. Hunter had already put her hands on the ground, splaying her fingers, and stretching out to show she was not reaching for her weapons or anything. The soldier lifted her by an arm and a fistful of hair. "Up we go!"

"You got him down there?" One of the soldiers called from a room above.

The woman who had a hold of Hunter asked, rather politely, "You didn't set any traps in that room, right?" Hunter shook her head. They called up to the soldiers above, "Go get their things. We'll meet you out front."

Hunter did her little rounds in the mornings after the Handler returned to Her tent. Checking the sides of the building, making sure that there was no trace of people entering or leaving. Making sure she left no traces of movement in the building. If she wasn't so preoccupied watching Her, then she wouldn't have gotten cornered.

Divine punishment?

Once all four of the soldiers had come, gathering her things and rummaging through her bags, she was led into the encampment. For interrogation. Imperials were particularly harsh to spies. But Hunter did everything she could to make it easier on herself. She was already getting ready to tell the interviewer all about the local rebel factions, and who their leaders were, and even where they gathered and some of the tunnels they used. Anything to see another day.

She was led deep into the camp, getting more than her fair share of disgusted stares from other soldiers, and finally to a large tent. Hunter braced for the coming violence. It wasn't her first time being captured by imperials, but most times the interviewer was willing to cut her loose for whatever information she had.

"Sit."

As Hunter was ushered into the tent, the only person waiting was Her. No jugs of water or threatening implements laid out carefully nearby. Hunter had been brought to the command tent, with no attempt to hide or obfuscate any of the maps or plans or reports that were organized neatly on the large central table. The soldiers all rushed away as soon as she was in, leaving the two alone.

Hunter sat cautiously on one of the two folding chairs in the room, and put her rifle down beside her. It wasn't even loaded. They hadn't disarmed her. Her backpack had been brought in and placed off to the side. Somehow it was more unnerving than any interview she'd been subjected to.

"I take it you've been keeping notes?" She said with an eerie calm. Her voice was beautiful though. It sent the wrong kind of shivers up Hunter's spine. Hunter nodded and pulled her little notebook out and placed it into Her outstretched hand.

"Give me the verbal report you would have given to..." She trailed off for a moment before Her lips tilted up in an amused smile, "the rebels. You're a mercenary, correct?"

Hunter nodded. "How did you know? Usually they assume I'm one of those filthy dogs."

"Your notes are in imperial shorthand." Her eyes never looked up at Hunter, which she was thankful for. She was too busy flipping through the pages with an intense focus. "I doubt there's anyone else on the base who could read this. Who taught you?"

"My mother." The words came out naturally. She was so busy answering the questions she hadn't gotten to report.

The woman, Handler, stopped flipping through the pages for a moment. Then flipped through several more, and then back to where she had paused at first. Grasping the four pages, densely packed with little scribbles, between her gloved fingers and tore them neatly from the book. Hunter didn't have to look to know which pages she'd torn out.

"I don't need to hear your report," She corrected. "Your notes are precise, efficient, and accurate."

She stood up and motioned for Hunter to do the same. At Her will, Hunter pulled up her rifle and retrieved a small tablet from her backpack and wired it up to the scope. She wanted to look through all of Hunter's photographs. Handler stood next to Hunter and examined each photograph, saying only Next or Delete to each. There were a lot of pictures of Her, all of which were deleted. Hunter didn't want to lose them all, but she wasn't about to try to ask. Hunter was allowed to keep a surprising number of photographs. The only ones that were removed contained Her.

Idolatry was illegal, after all.

Hunter wasn't holding herself together very well at all through the whole experience. She couldn't look up or risk making eye contact with Her. She would melt if that happened. Staring at the ground didn't make her feel any better either! She kept staring at Her boots and salivating. They were perfect even in this dusty hell pit. Hunter's head was close to exploding.

The notebook was held back out to her, finally. "You have ten minutes. You will record everything valuable you can see. You will not touch anything."

Hunter nodded. She hovered in Hunter's peripheral vision at all times as she walked around the room and examined the maps and read the reports. Every once in a while, She would ask a personal question.

"Tell me about your mother. Was she imperial intelligence, or a field scout?"

Okay, they weren't really questions. Hunter couldn't keep herself from answering truthfully. She tried to be concise when she could, maybe not share everything. But if it felt like she was lying, even by omission, she just couldn't bring herself to.

"Did she choose the name Hunter?"

"No, I chose it." Hunter said quietly, hoping that she wouldn't be asked why she chose it. Or what her real name was.

"Why?"

It was too much to hope for. Hunter was doing an excellent job at the very least of unraveling the battle plans laid out in the room, the scope of the planned operation, and the faults that the rebellion could take advantage of. All the things that she would never think to do in the presence of someone like Her.

But she couldn't not answer Her question. "It was mom's Maiden name, before she married mama," she trembled slightly. She felt so stupid for the next words to leave her mouth. "I wanted to be strong long she was. Is. They both left me behind because I wasn't strong enough."

It was mostly quiet after that for at least five minutes. She tried to step into Hunter's vision a few times, and she instinctively turned away. It wasn't shame or embarrassment, exactly. It was that same, divine feeling she had watching through her scope. That heat ripping through her body.

Arousal.

Finally, a hand fell on her shoulder the exact moment that Hunter had started to go in circles with nothing else to make note of. Oh no. She felt like she would melt under that hand. Firm but not threatening.

"When did you realize you liked women?"

Hunter hadn't spoken her name, but She knew it. Hunter had never thought about whether or not she liked women, but Her words were certain and that made her certain too. When did she realize? What an unfair question. Hunter shuffled awkwardly. She wanted to pull away from that hand on her shoulder, but couldn't bring herself to deny herself this attention.

"When I saw you," her voice trembled. When did she become such a pushover? She was able to stand up to others, but not Her. "It's not just how pretty you are," she was struggling to put it into words. It was a feeling she wasn't familiar with in the first place, but now she was standing there trying to identify what it was. "You're flawless. But I watched. It takes effort, and time, and dedication. It's incredible."

The Handler lent in close and whispered in her ear, "Is that why you can't look at me?" It was almost enough to kill her on the spot. And she would deserve it, if that was what She decided. But She seemed amused by it.

Hunter nodded, staring into the scribbles in her notebook. When it was being drilled into her it felt so stupid, but it was useful. One stroke per letter, sometimes simple symbols replaced entire words or even sentences. Mom would take her out to various places and have her take notes, and the double check the information. It was a lot better than the combat trainings -- those were just beatings and movement drills. Handler didn't remind her of her mom at all, after all how could that woman compare to Her?

Hunter was turned around to face Her and the four torn-out pages were placed firmly in her hand. The pages that contained her obsessive notes about everything She did. Hunter tried to keep her eyes on the paper and not Her boots.

"It's black tea, in the morning." In Hunter's peripheral, she could see Her smile. She didn't deserve to see that. Hunter knew it was some kind of tea, but didn't know what it was, but now she could fix that note.

Handler extracted a watch from her long, black coat and nodded. "Your time is up. You need a few pictures to explain how you learned the details of this operation. There is a soldier outside who will escort you."

Hunter took a step towards the door. It still felt like some kind of trap. What was going to happen? A spark of defiance swelled just long enough for her to say something stupid. "What if I don't sell this to the rebels, or tell them that you gave me all this information?"

Handler was no longer looking at her. Beneath her notice. But still, Handler responded as she adjusted a paper on the table just so, "I would be very disappointed in you."

That was all that she needed to hear. Hunter picked up her backpack and slung her rifle over her shoulder, slipping out of the tent as quietly as she could. There was indeed a soldier, the smug private who had been following Her around and running errands for Her.

"All done?" A stupid, shit-eating grin spread across their face when they looked down at how red and sweaty Hunter was. "Yeah. Scary shit. Let's go, loser. Which building would give you the best vantage point?"

The soldier explained the plan. Or what she was told to do anyways. Hunter would find a place she could see the command tent from, take a few pictures of the inside while people are having a meeting, and then she would be escorted a ways away and cut loose. Hunter picked a building she would have gone to if she was braver and started climbing the debris. To her surprise the soldier was keeping up fairly well.

"My name's Tresst, by the way. You can write that down in your little notebook alongside all the big shots."

Insufferable. "You're a private. Nobody cares."

"Won't be for long," she boasted with the undeserved confidence of an imperial nepo.

Hunter wondered something, though. "Everyone else avoids Her. Why are you the only one who seems happy to be near Her? Bootlicker?"

Private Tresst, obnoxious and brash, took deep offence to the question and responded with a resounding "Fuck you!" that would have certainly given away Hunter's position if she still had to worry about that. After she huffed and crossed her arms to at least look composed about it, "She's clearly a big shot. Even the Phylax-General is taking cues from her. Might as well get in good now and ride her favor as far as it'll take me."

Not a shred of shame either, then. But the curse stung. "I didn't mean it as an insult," Hunter mumbled under her breath as she set up her rifle and started dialing in on the command tent's open flaps. There were certainly a bunch of important people in the tent now. Not just Kynilandre, but Harvak too. Oh this was a serious operation. The rebellion would give hundreds of lives to put a grenade in that tent.

Handler directed the meeting from a place in the tent that Hunter couldn't get a clear shot of. If she moved to a lower floor, other tents would block the sightline. No horizontal changes would put Handler back in Hunter's sights.

It made her let loose a shuddering, hopeless sigh.

She really was flawless. Absolutely divine.

Krystyn and Ilina sat quietly on the floor in the pilot's locker room. The lights were dimmed, giving it a weirdly intimate vibe. It was a peaceful moment they'd scrounged out of nothing. There was no training that day and they weren't likely to get shunted into combat. Manya was having Orchid run a bunch of numbers for Crater. Velia was busy with paperwork. Vigil was busy studying like she was told to do.

When she'd pushed Ilina into the locker room to get her alone, she expected a quick and violent fuck. Or some drawn out tease like in the cockpit of the Inertia. Instead Ilina's bright eyes disarmed all those intentions immediately. So instead they were on the floor cuddling and sharing stories. Ilina was sharing stories. Krystyn didn't have a lot to say about herself that she was proud of, but Ilina's life was so full for her age.

"So, good memory then?" Krystyn played with the little puppy ears that Ilina's hair formed.

"When I think about Her, yeah." Ilina got quiet. "I haven't told anyone about Her before, but I don't think it matters anymore."

There was something else there that Ilina wasn't saying. Some weight attached to that memory that she tried to ignore. Must have been pretty traumatizing, Krystyn supposed. Catch and release. Like a fish being thrown back because it wasn't worth keeping and cleaning yet.

Ilina shifted in Krystyn's arms and pulled something out of her pocket. Weathered paper, torn from a small notebook. It looked like chicken scratch. There weren't even letters. Ilina's grin was so wide, like it was some work of art she was so proud of.

"I was thankful She let me keep these, even if I couldn't keep any pictures of Her." Ilina flipped through them as carefully as she could. "I transcribe them into the start of every new notebook, so I'll never forget. But I keep the original on me for good luck."

What a disgusting freak. That went beyond stalker-like. That was worship. The same kind that Orchid practiced. But it was ultimately harmless, and how could anyone deny that dorky little smile of hers. She was so careful when she folded it back up and slid it into an inner pocket of her jacket. Krystyn would have bet that it was one of the few things Ilina had kept over the years.

Ilina's nostrils flared for a second as she adjusted to be even closer to Krystyn, sliding an arm into Krystyn's jacket and behind her back. Oh, here it comes. She sniffed at Krystyn's neck and bust before getting cozy and pouting.

"Yes," Krystyn let out a pained breath. It was probably good to get ahead of it. She said she'd handle it on her own. "I told Manya to stop feeding you drugs, and to stay away from you wherever possible."

No response. Some throat-noise, almost a growl. "It's fine," she grumbled after a bit of gentle coaxing. "You can keep me company when we're deployed. I'll hit up Taitle and her crew, maybe some of the general crew, to make sure I'm not too lonely around here."

It felt like stepping on broken glass. Painful, but it was her own damn fault. Manya was right that Ilina wanted attention. With Velia so busy now, and who knows about their situation before then, she was definitely lonely. And she'd been so busy keeping Manya busy. She felt so dumb.

Kyrstyn nuzzled the back of her head. "Well, if I can avoid Velia working me to the bone I'll make sure to spend more time with you. That's what you want, right?"

"I'd prefer if Velia wore the uniform more often," Ilina had gone back to pouting. It was still so much more emotion than she showed around seemingly anyone else though. Krystyn felt happy about that at least, and understood being her second-choice.

Ilina slipped a hand between Krystyn's legs and dragged it up to her belt. Krystyn instinctively grabbed Ilina's hand and stopped it. So, she did want it. Krystyn moved Ilina into her lap and wrapped her arms around her, pushing up her loose shirt and unbuckling and sliding a hand down those pants.

"This is what you want, right?" Krystyn hissed into her ear. "You don't need to get grabby, you can just ask next time."

There wasn't an ounce of fight in the girl today. She paused for a moment as Ilina shimmied out of her pants, but there wasn't the usual taunting or incitements. The girl just leaned into Krystyn and let her play however she wanted. Something felt wrong about it, but Krystyn wasn't about to pass up the opportunity even still.

Ilina was rather quiet, not stifling any of her moans but certainly not being as loud as Krystyn had become accustomed too. Something was definitely wrong. After Krystyn had her fun and let Ilina go she scurried off quickly. The look on her face was different. Forced?

This was going to eat her alive, wasn't it? What happened there?