Legion Candidate, Chapter 5

Krystyn spent a short-lived night in a sensory hell, swatting away the pretty flies that started crowding her the moment she made for the bar counter and watching Ilina make a straight line for the target like she actually read the mission file for once. The girl was such a popular little thing that it didn’t take long for a crowd to form around her, but the femmes that flanked Krystyn might have made her feel popular too if she was a brain dead novice.

They were persistent and clingy, fawning and mewling over her like she couldn’t see the malice in their eyes or hear the frustration creeping along the edges of their words when they couldn’t find an opening. Fresh out of mandatory service, no doubt, a few years back in public life and they were all too eager to remember the taste of blood from their backroom conquests. Krystyn made for a prime target since Ilina broke off the moment she came into the bar.

Predator see predator.

She knew everything she needed to know about everyone in the room at a glance. No wonder all the good little boys stuck together on the fringe. You still had to be present for the celebrations or you’d get singled out later for being a no-show. Were you expecting a raid? Or maybe you were off tattling to Intelligence! You were probably a spineless coward and didn’t want to get grouped up with everyone else in some database. The feeling that your absence would be noticed long before your presence would sit in the back of your head for the rest of your life.

Somewhere deep inside she’d convinced herself that all those little games were just in her head, that if she spent time away from it she would come back with fresh eyes and see that everyone had been wearing their heart on their sleeves the whole time. She was the one who was broken, with a warped perspective that tainted everything. Instead, she learned she’d been right from the start.

“Listen, ladies, even if you were my type, I’m a bit committed at the moment.” Krystyn pushed past them. Cloying, sweet scents wafted off them like pepperball splash threatening to cling to her skin for days. Guess you had to lay it on thick if you wanted to compete with the oppressive smell of cigarette smoke.

It moved quick in her peripheral vision for just a moment toward the bar, stopping as Krystyn’s head turned like its military jacket would be effective camouflage. Did the piggies know they did it? Burying themselves in their oversized jackets with their little hands pulled in as close as they could. Praying to the goddess herself to spare them from wandering eyes. Meek voices trying to get the attention of the bartender so they could return to their spots a little too far away from the real men.

It was a terrible impulse that overtook her. She primed herself to fall into it. The confidence at the door and the swagger at the bar. Not to mention really taking in the environment; New Dead Roads could have been any bar in the empire back when they were hers. So, Charlotte couldn’t be blamed for her behavior, as untoward and unsightly as it was.

“Ah,” Charlotte’s voice nearly caught in her throat as she approached it. She was a little too excited, she needed to dial back, but it had been so long since she’d had a proper meal. It flinched as she cleared her throat and positioned herself to block the persistent little flies from intruding. “Can I get you a drink, little prince?”

“I’m not drinking,” it started. It was a cute attempt. But the little shift and the way its eyes darted to the floor at the words gave it away.

“Soda?” It nodded. “Let me pay anyways. Dives are for drinking, but some of these stupid fucking dykes seem to think its a swingers club or something.” Charlotte shot her hangers-on a dirty look. The pig relaxed some as they both stuck their noses up and disappeared back into the mess of people. Thanks for playing wingman, girls. I can handle it from here.

“Where did you serve?” She pretended not to hear it so it would slide up a little closer and repeat itself. “I don’t recognize you.”

“Ihin,” Charlotte laughed. “Or I guess, that’s where I spent most of my post-service. I served before all of this,” she gestured vaguely with her drink, “so I got posted all over the place. Infantry originally, then mech. You?”

“Here. Engineering. Infrastructure. Roads and stuff.” Its eyes almost sparkled looking up at her. Goddess forgive, Ilina might look like a kid but this thing was one. Real cute though with a dimpled smile as she prompted it to talk more about that. There was a lot of details, kid wanted to go into civil engineering and got a crash course during its service.

It was so easy she almost felt bad about it. A little dash of attention, a few tell me mores, pretend you don’t know as much as they do about their specialty. If there was anything that ever put the whole act at risk it was that she could never stop smiling looking at them. The dumb ones were too awestruck to realize what a red flag it was.

“Waitwaitwait,” it squealed as Charlotte pulled it up on her lap, straddling her, facing her, back exposed to the rest of the bar. It barely put up any resistance as she led it around, grabbing her food and their drinks. Oh, but now it went back to squirming now that she had it here.

“Stop squirming, princeling,” Charlotte teased. “I just like the view, I ain’t gonna do anything.” She slid a hand under its jacket to grasp its hip, to keep it from wiggling around too much. “So, you signed up with the Victoria Front until last year? You ever heard of that pilot, Tilt?”

Its face fell for a moment. She’d heard the rumors that Tilt treated the men especially poorly. She needed to pull the pig out of its head before it started to spiral about it. That would make the last hour a complete waste of effort.

“I’ve met her,” she pushed the kid’s hair out of its face. They all like to wear it long so they could hide like that. “She acts like the whole universe revolves around her, just because she’s a good pilot.”

“She’s one of the best pilots,” it sounded dejected.

“No, she’s not.” Charlotte dragged a thumb across its lips and felt it quiver. “The best pilots recognize how much support goes into propping them up. That machine of hers only works on packed earth and paved roads. She would have been picked apart by vultures years ago if the Victoria Front hadn’t been putting the roads in the city back together after every conflict.”

The spark came back to its eyes. That’s right, piggy. You’re the hero here, not her. God, she could feel how hard it was through its pants. Hindsight made everything so clear, and being the villain didn’t feel so bad now that she’d come to terms with it all.

All you really had to do was treat it like a woman.

For the past seven years Charlotte Fellows looked back at her through the mirror because that was all there ever was. She would go home and feel sick and empty her stomach into the porcelain in horror about just how easy it all was, and she would go back out and do it again and again. She’d always loved breaking toys more than she liked playing with them.

The little prince whimpered as Charlotte wrapped an arm around the back of its neck, pulling it in and biting at its ear. It wasn’t fighting back, which was good. She’d hate to have to hurt it— No. She wasn’t allowed to hurt it. Ilina was a greedy girl who wanted all of that excess to herself. It was hard to restrain herself though when it kept making those sounds and faces.

“Are you okay?” Its voice was low, still quiet. Someday it would learn to control its voice, but if she could take it out back for fifteen minutes she could teach it just how girly it could sound. Give it a clear goal to strive toward.

“Doing just great,” Charlotte hummed. “Can’t believe you didn’t put up a fight. Are you embarrassed like that?”

Yeah, it was embarrassed. And aroused. The princeling’s mind was still stuck in the wash and couldn’t tell heads from tails, likely to collapse to the ground the second she pushed it off. Asking itself a hundred questions about why it liked the attention it was getting and why it was getting hard thinking about everyone watching it. Not that it would ever be Charlotte’s responsibility to answer any of them.

“Hey—“

There was a raucous cheering from the other side of the bar followed shortly by a sharp pull on the leash. If it was an emergency Ilina would have just hit the button to call Krystyn. It was fast and unambiguous, and happened more often than either of them would openly admit. This was a yellow light, she was asking for a safety net.

“Fuck,” Krystyn interrupted herself. “Sorry, that’s me,” she tapped the boy on the hip and got him to move. “It was fun, really.”

“Oh, uh, what’s your name?”

“It’s a dive, kid,” Krystyn smiled and pushed past. “Wrong place to look for something real.”

Approaching the crowd pricked the back of Krystyn’s neck before the energy started to set in, with the cascading fervor propped up by the dark and approving chuckles. It was a veteran’s bar through and through and the gulf between herself and the rest of Domon never felt so vast. The acoustics didn’t create the same echo as those little storage rooms just far enough off the main paths, but the wrong words exchanged between the careless audience here could tip Ilina over.

She muscled her way through with a newfound urgency. Ilina freezing up would be bad, and Krystyn would need to calm her down carefully. The other option, that she was more present or aware of her surroundings when someone tripped that landmine, could turn into a real fight. She tried to push the casualty calculations out of her mind.

Luckily, her owner was blissfully straddling Halbach’s boot and hugging her leg. Eyes barely open and a stupid, content little smile plastered across her face — the expression her owner always made after sex. Good. Halbach pet her gently, as she should, and was in the process of trying to right her when Krystyn stepped in.

“Need a lift?” Halbach’s voice was rough and husky. A smoker’s voice, which must have sounded like song to Ilina. Breathe reeked of cigarettes but not booze.

“We’re only a fifteen minute walk,” Krystyn grunted while she got her arms under the Corpse Princess. She was aware enough to wrap her arms around Krystyn’s neck for support, humming and mumbling something happily.

“Bah!” Halbach stood up abruptly and polished off her bottle. “Let me make sure the kid gets home safe. Least I could do to repay the show she put on for us.”

“You look good for a dead girl.”

Cassie Halbach drummed her thick, calloused fingers against the wheel of her little grey jeep, borrowed or bought on the cheap from whatever group was sheltering her and her frame. Ilina snored quietly in the backseat, drooling a puddle atop Krystyn’s bundled jacket, having passed out the moment Krystyn laid her down. All around them, narrow-band amber lamps and the dull, muted colors of aged store signage drifted by as Halbach took a scenic route to the hotel where Ilina and Krystyn were staying.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Krystyn stared out the window, measuring the blocks between the checkpoints at the various intersections. “There’s a lot of them, even for the aftermath.”

“S’cause the Necromancer knocked over Pascia last month,” Halbach said conversationally, as if Pascia was a convenience store and not a planet. “Empire figures Darwin’s next. They even gave the locals what they asked for with barely a fight to preserve their forces.”

“That makes sense,” she responded absently. It won’t save them.

“Ihin,” Halbach clicked her tongue and smiled. “I don’t remember the name of that shit hole little bar. Don’t matter though, you couldn’t go to any of them seventeen years ago without seeing that mug of yours plastered on the wall. Damn, it’s been a while since I was out that way. You look good, seriously. What’s your secret? Telomere extensions?”

The city seemed to stretch out in Krystyn’s vision as she tried to keep her breathing in check. Ihin. Ilina was still fast asleep in the back, thankfully. Halbach helpfully informed her that there was a gun in the glove box, but she didn’t know that Krystyn couldn’t reach for it even if she wanted to. The accusation of a capital crime only heightened her nerves on top of the rest.

“Simmer down, champ,” Halbach put a hand up to pacify her. “I won’t say a word to the kid, don’t you worry. I just wanna know why I’ve got Fellows riding shotgun with a minor in the boot.” Krystyn stared at the woman in horror. As if she needed a Charlotte Fellows history lesson from Cassie fucking Halbach.

“Let us out,” Krystyn hissed. “I’ll get a cab.”

“You came all the way to this pit to find me, you ain’t about to walk away ‘cause I made you uncomfortable.” Halbach’s voice was as smooth as a gravel road but the confidence carried her. “So, answer the question.”

Halbach knew the second they walked into the bar what they were there for. Krystyn mentioned the woman’s name to the door bitch who pushed a silent alarm. Back in Ihin, at her old haunts, they would change the radio suddenly, like someone bumped into it. Here, it must have been the television, or one of the overhead fans, or something else a little more subtle Halbach’s friends had set up to notify her of visitors.

“She’s not a minor, and I don’t know who you think I am,” Krystyn shifted in her seat and lowered her voice. Ilina was a light enough sleeper that she didn’t want to risk her waking up and overhearing any old war stories. “I’ve got a friend out in Ihin right now,” she continued, trying to ease back into a conversational tone while staying on topic enough that Halbach wouldn’t try to be so tactless about it again. “Domon is splitting its forces a lot, and giving a lot of concessions to the locals, it seems.”

“Three fronts isn’t enough to pin her down and you know it, especially since the Necromancer isn’t closing any of the gates. As long as the gates stay open, the empire’s always going to have enough forces and supplies on every front.”

Cassie Halbach was Charlotte Fellows in another life. A once-scrawny thing from infantry that managed to make it to pilot before getting turned to paste on the front lines of whatever conflict center she was sent to. Served her minimum time and signed up with a local rebellion faction, drifting toward fresh meat and a battle to fight. The only difference was Cassie was a lot more successful at it than Charlotte ever was, and has kept her reputation as one of the best pilots Domon ever produced intact. One of the things you learned fighting against Domon was exactly how infallible those supply lines were.

“She wants them open.”

“I suppose she wasn’t the Necromancer General for nothing,” the woman was smiling nice and wide. She was going to swallow the bait whole. “We’ve been at war with her for six years and nobody I’ve talked to seems to even register it, like it isn’t even happening. Nothing changes in the imperial core.”

Nothing changes until something breaks. Domon is as it always was, and will always be, because to shape it was to understand it and expose yourself to the rot that lubricated the gears. You would make compromises and tell yourself each and every one was justified. Each concession a small, open wound. A vector for infection. Inescapable.

Unless you never compromise. Morian Kyrnn, much like her beloved Corpse Princess, didn’t know the meaning of the word and all of Domon’s might wasn’t about to teach them.

“I’m in.” Halbach nodded, convincing herself and chewing over the thought. The aging ace pilot had been on every winning front since the start of her career, and whether it was because she was that talented, she believed in the cause that much, or she just liked winning, Cassie Halbach could see the way the winds were blowing. “Where do you need to go?”

“Our shuttle will be touching down outside Terros Ridge.”

Halbach rolled to a gentle stop on red at the intersection. She let out a shuddering, wheezing breath holding back some kind of dark, defeated laughter. “Fuck, y’all really do have my number, eh?” If there was a plan behind all of this, nobody had told it to Krystyn. “I’ll crash with you two tonight and we can head out at first light, before the cordon gets any stronger. Terros Ridge is too close to the capital—”

“It’s close enough to the capital.” Krystyn had counted sixteen different checkpoints, one at nearly every intersection. Any city closer to the capital would have had twice as many and they wouldn’t have let the locals meet and celebrate, if only for appearance’s sake. No doubt they would be posted on the routes out of town too.

“I’m not saying I’m gonna fight.” The women glanced at Krystyn with a serious eye, finally sizing her up properly. “I ain’t about to make any promises till I see what y’all are actually about.”

“That’s fine. Necromancer just wants to talk first, you can make any decisions you want after.” Krystyn let out a relieved sigh over how easy it ended up being. Here she was worried that she’d have to give the woman the whole song and dance to get her on board.

The Ramsap was a trashy two-story little motel in the middle of a maze of little streets more suitable for walking than driving, and easily only fifteen minutes from New Dead Roads by foot. The scenic route that Halbach took them on took well over an hour of navigating side roads and at least one little alleyway to cut between the dense checkpoints. It felt like the kind of occupation tactics seen before a riot or rebellion boiled over to a full scale conflict.

Halbach was right about the air though. Some loiterers outside the motel complained about traffic and delays during the commute back from the late shift, as if that was the most disruptive thing about a checkpoint at every other intersection in town.

Krystyn cradled a snoozing Ilina in her arms, listening to her make happy murmurs like a puppy dreaming. That was a lot better than the nightmares she usually had and the way she’d wake up swinging and screaming. Up the stairs and into the third room down with two beds crammed into a tight one-bed room, Krystyn placed her ward atop one of the beds.

Halbach checked the windows were locked and shuttered, and made a cursory sweep of the room. “Ramsap is usually fine for this stuff,” she muttered, “but it’s always the time you don’t check that you get fucked.”

“Pretty sure they’re just looking for revolutionaries, not girls like us.” Krystyn replied as she lined up Ilina’s boots neatly beside the bed beside her own. She hadn’t been quiet enough, Ilina sat up and pulled Krystyn into a hug and started taking deep breaths and probably cataloging all the scents she’d picked up.

Ilina’s face scrunched up as she pushed Krystyn away.

“I was busy with a boy,” Krystyn admitted, and a little too quickly and defensively, she added, “I didn’t break any rules.”

“I believe you.” Ilina always did, even if she had no reason to given Krystyn’s history. “But a boy?”

Krystyn shrugged. “Give him six months and she’ll figure herself out, you know? Are you jealous?” An unnecessary little tease, because despite everything Ilina said and probably liked to believe about herself, she was the most jealous and possessive little thing in the world.

Ilina laid back and tugged her shirt up to show off those abs of hers. “If that’s all you wanted, Chaser, then maybe I should have brought the strap.” Her figure was illuminated only by the little cuts of street light through the blinds, and if her fangs were any sharper they’d glint like knives. How could Krystyn ever want anyone else?

“Let’s get you changed,” she soothed as she mounted Ilina and started to peel away layers. The subtle rustle of a firearm in a hand reminded her that she’d left her back exposed to Halbach.

“Oh, Cassie’s here?” Ilina giggled, “You won’t even let her watch?”

“No, sir,” Krystyn discarded Ilina clothes off the side of the bed as she removed them. The girl’s panties were soaked through, as if there was a single doubt about that. The scent licked at Krystyn’s nose and stoked her appetite. Now she was going to be horny all night and she wasn’t about to put on a show for Halbach.

“Won’t let her join in? What if I order—“

Krystyn shoved three fingers into Ilina’s mouth before she could finish that sentence. “I think you might be drunk, master,” she sneered. “You never could keep track of how much you’ve had. Maybe we ought to empty your stomach just in case? Or maybe you need a cold shower to sober up.”

Two taps on her wrist and she withdrew her hand with a long trail of saliva. Her dejected little pout wasn’t going to change Krystyn’s mind on this one. She shuffled the girl into another of Symeon’s oversized band shirts and a fresh pair of underwear. They argued briefly in hushed tones over her medication, but the doctor’s orders won out: Ilina had to take her medication if she was going to sleep anywhere away from home.

“You two are cute together,” Halbach said, sounding a little too pleased for Krystyn’s comfort. She sipped from a flask as she turned her attention back to the little space in the blinds she’d positioned herself next to, watching the street.

“It’s more suspicious when you’re so vigilant.”

“It’s more suspicious when you stop being vigilant.”

Ilina’s deft fingers found the buckle on Krystyn’s collar before she realized she was reaching for it. “Bedtime,” Ilina’s voice slurred as the meds started to take her. She pulled the collar free as she fell back into the bed and rolled over to start building herself a nest in the sheets.

The soft lines of the HUD vanished from the edges of her vision as the collar’s built-in IFF system shut down. It was the worst moment of the day, no matter what else happened. Cast adrift suddenly without that familiar lifeline, dependent only on her eyes to see her master, and forced to trust that she wouldn’t vanish the moment she closed her eyes. Faith was a weak leash in the face of her own desires.

Krystyn stared at Ilina’s content, sleeping face hoping that she could burn the features into her brain. All the events of the night started to crowd her thoughts. Hopefully that poor kid gets their head on straight before the bullying tears them apart. Those girls were too pretty for Krystyn, and still didn’t stack up against Ilina. The thought that maybe she was just into butches was dashed from her mind by how repulsive she found Cassie Halbach, but thinking about Symeon filled her with a jumble of upsetting feelings. It’s been weeks since she last synced with the Inertia, would the drift be too much now? It was all too much.

How could Ilina know that making her sleep without her collar was a cruelty of the highest order?

Fuck.

Ilina was usually a light sleeper unless you wore her out completely, but the meds put her down deep. You could do nearly anything to her while she was out and she wouldn’t even stir. Krystyn had tested how much she could get away with over the past couple of weeks. Was that wrong? It wasn’t against her rules. She never had to ask permission if it was Ilina.

Fuck.

Halbach was right behind her in that damn chair. Tomorrow is an early morning and an all day drive out to the middle of nowhere to start a war. You gotta make a good impression, get Halbach to think you don’t want to just remake the empire or something. Be a good girl and go to sleep. You can show that much restraint, can’t you Charlotte?

“Chaser, huh?” Halbach chuckled to herself, pulling Krystyn out of her own head. She wiped some drool from her mouth before turning to face Halbach properly. “Sorry, sorry.”

The problem with Cassie Halbach, perhaps the greatest problem Krystyn had with the woman, was that if she described her the way she would describe Symeon then she would be unfairly labeled a bigot. The awful, goading grin on her face was mannish in the same way that Aegis’s was. Tilt would agree, having described Aegis the same way. Carried herself the way pigs with a chip on their shoulders did.

“Problem?”

“Not at all, pup,” her voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper out of respect for Ilina’s light snoring. “A callsign like that’s hard to shake.” If Krystyn had to choose she’d accept Chaser before pup. If her math was right, she was only Halbach’s junior by a year or two, and both of them have probably been at it longer than some people entering their service have been alive.

“Yeah. Sure is.”

“You know, I heard the stories and always thought you were full of it,” Halbach finally closed the blinds properly and tucked her gun somewhere Krystyn couldn’t see it. “Can’t say I expected you to be the real thing.”

Nobody ever told you the stories if they were about you, but Krystyn understood the implication. Charlotte Fellows was a serial rapist with a type. Ilina didn’t know that, and if she did then she was nice enough to have never brought it up. At least she managed not to prove them all right in front Halbach.

“Least I still got you on both looks and piloting,” Halbach threw back her flask and emptied it down her gullet. “Ain’t nobody alive in Domon that can beat me in my girl. I’ll introduce you tomorrow, if we make good time.”

“Sure,” she chewed the inside of her lip staring down at Ilina. Won’t have time tomorrow. Won’t have the energy for the next few days. You’ve gone longer without it. You won’t die, Charlotte, if you don’t get some right now. Patience. Ilina will appreciate the edge when you finally get the chance.

Krystyn finally shook the idea of leaving a few marks for Ilina to find in the morning and started undressing. Halbach, politely, didn’t catcall her as she stripped and wrapped herself around Ilina. The room was cold and the blankets were scratchy against her skin, but the feeling of Ilina’s breathing was a powerful salve.

Sleep mercifully took her before she could start circling the drain again.