“All around the mulberry bush

The monkey chased the weasel

The monkey thought ‘twas all in good fun

Pop! Goes the weasel”

-Anon

When I was a child, I watched a snake catch a star. It is my oldest memory and it heralded the destruction of my home.

I was playing with my sister, Anna, in the forest outside the city walls. We were peasants living as if in a perpetual renaissance faire on a tiny world owned by Jocasta Longaurdia, an interplanetary mining corporation CEO who, of her own admission, “had a little too much time on her hands.”

Back then, these custom boutique worlds were ruled by those who owned them and we lived in accordance with whatever contract our ancestors signed. My grandparents, escaping a chaotic and dangerous freeworld, signed a document obligating them to pretend to be medieval peasants with significant penalties for ever breaking that role. So, on this particular day, I didn’t know the truth of where I lived. I did not know anything about the modern solar system and just how tenuous our life was.

I remember the thick branches of those huge trees – mostly oaks and a few pines. They were bigger than oaks that grow on earth due to the relatively low gravity of our planetoid. I could jump up to the lowest branches and propel myself upwards to the highest branches with ease and without fear of hurting myself. Once there, I could see the world fall off, the horizon only four or five kilometers away. It was my favorite view.

I was at the top of the branches, just above a thick morning fog which enveloped the land below me, when I saw the most remarkable thing. A star, or at least I thought it was a star, fell from the sky towards the other side of the world. Out of the forest, a giant snake leaped up and caught the star in its great maw. It fell below the horizon and out of sight. It was strange watching such a thing, but since I was only five years old (seven and a half earth years) and as innocent as a lamb, I cannot say that I disbelieved my own eyes.

I called down to my sister, “Hey Anna, didja see that? A snake just ate a star!”

Before my sister could respond, a great rush of air passed us and a noise so loud I put both my hands up to my ears and gripped the tree trunk with my legs hard enough that it dug into my skin, making me bleed. In the great wind, the huge tree swung wildly, which I quite enjoyed. I waited for the tree to settle and then climbed down. My sister, upon seeing me, boxed me over my ears and called me a fool.

Now, I say this was my first memory and I can’t say that I remember everything that happened after that with great detail. When the earthquakes started, we ran back home and my mother hid us in the house, so I did not know what happened just outside our walls. This will be a constant problem as the events I am to tell you occurred during my childhood when adults still shielded me from the dangers of the worlds. And so, I must present the majority of this narrative from other points of view.

I could never have guessed the great role my family and the people close to them would play in reshaping our solar governance. But as a member of the Willas family, I have consistently found experts and historians to be incorrect and often downright insulting. Therefore, I present this text as ‘our’ side of the story. I wish to present these people so important to history, not as heroes and villains but as individuals with unique talents, and weaknesses, wishes, and fears. These are the stories we told each other over meals or intimate times or just whenever it was safe. I implore you, do not approach this story with contrived notions of good and evil. What people became, they did mostly because of the things pushed upon them by twisted fortune. And that is what I wish to show you.

Longaurdia

When the Madam woke up that morning, she woke to the splendor of Eden. Her Eden. Just outside her lavish bed chambers, the morning fog slowly burned off to reveal a clear blue-sky and rolling hills that quickly curved below the much-too-close horizon. The birds sang. It was so perfect it was awful.

Her mind was driven to solve problems, not to enjoy Eden. That could all change now, though. Not the perfection; no that would be even more cemented. With the presence of the druid, she would become even more powerful, able to help her people in unimaginable ways. Though her progress had so far been agonizingly slow, she was sure the druid’s training would soon bear fruit. Her land would become a shining example for others to follow. She would change what it meant to be a planetary manager.

Then the earth started to shake. No, that wasn’t right. This planet did not experience earth quakes. Something else was happening. She went to the window and braced herself against its frame. It wasn’t like an earthquake, more of a grinding of the earth that made so much noise everything vibrated. The sound, she realized, got louder, until it stopped suddenly. Shouts rang up from outside, but none of them made sense.

Gret Odima, captain of her guard, appeared at her doorway, helmet in hand, bow and quiver slung over broad shoulders. He wore a bronze armor cuirass over dark black skin burned by the constant sun. She could tell he was nervous. “Apologies for interrupting your morning Madam, we have a visitor who demands your attention.”

“A visitor?” The Madam’s mind raced, was this what the sound was about? She wasn’t expecting anyone from the Imperium. “What kind of visitor?”

Captain Odima cleared his throat, “Madam, it seems that the great Rizzazatul has seen fit to visit your kingdom.”

The Madam made a face like she had just heard gibberish. “Rizzatool… what is that?”

Odima’s face remained resolute and strained, “The great snake, Madam, as big as the mountain itself.”

“Oh, good gracious, of course, our great protector spirit. How could I forget?” She inwardly squirmed but forced her face to stay composed. There could only be one explanation for this. She had discussed the great snake myth with the druid before, but she never expected it to show up at the doors of her castle. And its arrival meant that something was terribly wrong. “I should have expected a visit. It has been quite a long time, indeed, since I conversed with Rizzazatul. I will ready myself and accompany you immediately.”

“Yes, Madam.”

The Madam took up her crown, her scepter, and her cape. She wanted to look like a proper interstellar medieval empress for her audience with a demigod.

She moved quickly through the palace, down into the large walled garden and then to the castle gatehouse. A group of guards at the base of the stairs kneeled. As she passed them, she noted that more than one reeked of piss. They clenched their spears with white knuckles and looked at her hopefully, eyes wide with fear. One reached out to her, saying “Madam, save us.” Captain Odima scowled at the man, and pushed him back. When she came up the stairs and onto the ramparts, she saw why her guards were so scared.

The immense snake was coiled in a tight multilayered hoop of colorful scales, each layer the height of multiple buildings. It sat motionless and, if she didn’t know better, she would have thought a giant scaly pyramid had suddenly appeared outside her castle walls. She felt her knees shake from fear, a true instinctual fear that she hadn’t felt in decades, maybe centuries. Her mouth dry, she moved her tongue along her lips and forced herself to steady her breath. She told herself that the druid was in control, that she was in no danger. In two more long breaths, she had steadied herself enough to speak without showing her panic.

“Captain, blow the trumpets or something. I’m not going to pinch it awake.” It helped her to show contempt; it made her feel more in control of herself. A peal went out across the valley and the snake’s head raised to the heavens, its body carving a new moat in the dense forest. After reaching a height out of sight, the head hung down, bringing the bottom of its mouth to her eye level. Then it turned its head focusing an eye the size of the castle gate on the Madam.

“Oh, great beast of the forest, what brings you to my humble castle?” The Madam tried for the best humble-yet-proud diplomatic voice she could muster.

Pompous gnat. She heard its voice in her head, but the only sound it made was hissing as its tongue worked in and out, tasting the air. It will deposssit your package where?

“I apologize, great spirit. I did not know you were coming. I would have prepared something and some place more suitable for this meeting. Are you awaiting a messenger?”

Fool, it issss the carrier. Do not wasssste its time! You awaken its sssslumber for thisss meaninglessssssnessssssss. It will put it on your head! The snake rose its massive head again, and the ground shook.

“In the garden please, in the garden!” The Madam motioned quickly, desperately, as the snake’s body began convulsing violently. The snake’s head gyrated as its strong muscles pushed something up its massive body to its throat. The snake then unceremoniously vomited an Imperial interplanetary cruiser, whole, but severely dented, onto the castle garden, crushing an acre of carefully cultivated botanical growth and two unfortunate guards. The saliva-covered metal siding glistened in the sun.

The Madam stared aghast at the large spaceship that had been deposited in her medieval garden and failed to notice the snake had retaken his previous posture and was now hanging its head dangerously close to her guards’ barracks. 

What issssss your tribute? Sssacrifice isssss required. Your proportionssss are… unsatisssssfactory. The village would be acceptable.

Slightly shaken, the Madam pulled herself together as she realized the snake meant to eat the entire village. “How about a cow? We have the largest fattest cows in all of the land.”

Where?

“Oh, of course, over there.” The Madam gestured to the south of the town where there was a large pasture with many cows grazing. “Pick out your favorite. It is yours.”

The snake’s head moved up and away from the Madam towards the direction she pointed, then fell as the snake slithered towards the pasture. This issssss acceptable, for now.

The Madam watched, happy that she still had a kingdom with actual living people. The snake rose once more then with surprising, impossible speed, dived into the herd, swallowing dozens of cows along with a half-acre of farm land. The earth began to shake again as the moving tubular mountain slithered off to the west, carving though the hills and forest. 

Shocked beyond words, the Madam stared unblinking at the snake’s highway of destruction. After an uneasy moment, Captain Odima brought her out of her stupor. “I’m sure the farmer will understand, Madam. What do we do with the… metal vehicle in the garden? It seems to be glowing.”

The Captain

On the bridge of the Challenger Five, the crew collected themselves after being tossed around like a baby rattle. After the ‘landing,’ the ship deployed its legs and the automatic orientation system righted the ship to match the planetoid’s gravity. An alarm notified the Captain that the landing site was unsuitable as a long-term berth, identifying the packed ground as insufficiently dense to support the weight of the ship. He sighed and pretended to focus on the screen in front of him for a second to gather his thoughts. He could feel the eyes of his crew on him, their displeasure growing by the second. This was supposed to be an easy mission on a resort world. Nobody expected a hostile welcome.

“Hm…” He nodded as if confirming something very important and then looked up at his crew. He activated the public address button on his communications panel to ensure that his announcement went out to the whole ship. “Ladies and gents, welcome to Holscrum 3. This is an enforced primitive Class 4 planetoid with Imperial trading rights, so best behavior and don’t piss off anyone who looks regal. Also, make sure to police all technology and leave nothing behind.”

The Captain hated these personalized luxury worlds. Insanely rich people decided to use their extravagant wealth to own a planet, make up a fake government, and enforce cultural regression, all to fuel some sort of bullshit fantasy of their own moral superiority. It seemed like the height of cognitive dissonance to him. But, fair enough, if the Captain had limitless money, he’d probably live on a ship full of genetically modified (and sterile) horny nymphs who treated him like a sex god and fed him grapes and berries every day until he died of some horrible yet unknown sexually transmitted disease.

He continued his briefing to the crew. “Of course, as you’ve noticed, our arrival did not go as planned. So, we are prisoners until told otherwise. All leave is postponed until bartered and terms have been established. Angie, cycle thruster power. I want to be able to make an escape if this ‘goddess among mortals’ decides she wants to overstep her sovereignty.”

The ship’s AI responded, “Thrusters will be available for atmospheric power only in five minutes. Multiple hull breaches levels two, three, four, six, seven-”

“Angie, cease damage report.” The Captain walked towards the exit of the bridge, waving to his crew which was still giving him the evil eye. “All members are allocated one extra alcoholic beverage and one free meal, notate hardship for reimbursement. I want those breaches fixed by the time the sun goes down.”

That should prevent a mutiny for at least an hour.

He moved quickly through his ship, stopping by the ‘cultural sensitivity’ desk to sign his release and receive realm-specific apparel. By the time he was at the aft main door going through UV cleaning, he looked like a traveling minstrel straight out of a Shakespearean tragedy. The door opened and the Captain was blasted with hot, sticky, humid air and harsh bright sun, instantly bringing on a stinging headache and causing him to wince.

As the Captain’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, he made out emerald high heels, then shapely tanned legs, then the curves of a very pissed off genetically and aesthetically perfect twenty-five-year-old (looking) redhead wearing a lavish emerald cocktail dress and shrouded in a rich white fur cape. On her head, she wore a gold crown pocked with rubies the size of the Captain’s fist.

This should be fun, he thought to himself.

He went into a deep bow and waited for the wannabe royalty to initiate conversation.

The woman in green spoke, sounding both pleasantly surprised and completely unimpressed, “Oh, a traveling group of minstrels, don’t you know that our yearly faire is not until the end of summer? You would have done better to send word before that you were coming.”

“Apologies, m’lord, no harm intended. We are but poor entertainers,” the guard next to the woman visibly winced at the Captain’s use of the word m’lord. “Your hospitality is renowned, and we come to praise your wise leadership and provide gaiety for your prosperous peoples. In return, we ask only for food and lodging.” He really hated kissing these prima donnas’ asses, but he also liked having a ship to fly around the galaxy, and if it wasn’t for the settling of sectored space, he’d have nowhere to go, and therefore, no ship to captain.

“We shall discuss terms in my throne room.” The woman replied icily, “For now, your people must stay inside your… troupe wagon.”

After a quick walk through the garden and into the palace, the Captain found himself inside the throne room. The guards were quickly dismissed and pretense dropped. When she spoke this time, her voice dripped with contempt. “Captain, I don’t have time for these games. Why are you here? What do you want? And you best believe I will be filing a complaint – and a wrongful death suit for my two guards you killed.”

“We are on official Imperium business. We received a tip that a known dangerous criminal, one Trent Reiss, who goes by the name ‘The Druid,’ had made residence here and was causing disturbances. In the interest of Imperial law, we came to arrest him for terrorism, religious suppression, sedition, and the application and spread of illegal bio-enhancements. Here is an official warrant and a request for assistance in arresting this dangerous criminal to face trial in Imperium,” the Captain stated officially, presenting the written warrant. While she reviewed the warrant skeptically, he continued, “In regards to your lost employees, I can only reply that it was your hardware that literally deposited us here. We did not have a choice about on whom we landed, though I join you in mourning your loss. Will there be a funeral we could attend, or perhaps a wake? My crew would certainly like a good wake.”

The woman ignored his baiting and continued in her haughty tone, “I don’t know where you get your information captain, but it is obviously false. There are no criminals here except you and your crew who have attempted to ransack my planet illegally. I have been granted full authority and approval for any and all security measures to protect my property. I admit this method is… imperfect, but it fits with the theme that I have chosen. Which brings me to another important point: if you call me ‘m’lord’ one more time in front of my subjects I will have you strung up on the rack and publicly eunuched! I am to be called Madam. Which you would know if you reviewed the Imperial charter to this land. I am not some medieval slaver.”

This irritated the Captain. It felt like an enormous waste of time. He just wanted to go and catch a terrorist and leave this sun, this heat, this crazy person who wanted to argue about what he should call her. He knew she was hoping he’d get so mad he’d leave without a fight and without discovering what she was up to. He couldn’t let her get to him. He wondered what Reiss could be offering her that she would protect him.

From the intelligence report, Trent Reiss was a first-class conman who peddled in genetic and physics alteration technology to help rich assholes live out fantasies about wielding ‘actual magic’ to wow their rich friends and aid them in holding down their underlings. Which would be fine if they could control what they unleashed. Several Planetary Managers had fallen victim to Reiss’ schemes already, resulting in the destruction of whole planetoid formations along with their fortunes and millions of their underlings. What was she going to do with a snake bigger than her castle? What happened when it gets hungry again?

“My apologies, madam,” he said with as much insincerity as he could. “We will need to stay long enough to repair our ship. I will overlook damages incurred by your… security system, if you allow my people leave of the ship to R&R in town. We will pay twice the normal rates to make up for our unannounced arrival. While we wait, I’m sure you will find it acceptable for me to inquire with the locals to see if there have been any visitors that may have escaped your notice.”

“Those terms are acceptable, but since you have announced yourselves as traveling minstrels, I expect a performance on the morrow and another before you leave. No one is to leave the town without escort and personal written approval from me. My captain of guards, Captain Odima will answer all of your questions about the security of this land. So that I can arrange the appropriate hospitality, when can I expect your visit to end?”

“We suffered extensive damage to almost our entire hull. I expect to be here for seven days.”  The Captain knew his ship would be capable of space flight within a day, but she didn’t need to know that. He needed time for his trackers to find Reiss. With or without her written approval. “If that is all, I’ll be back in my ship if you need me.”

“No, captain. As long as any of your crew is outside that ship, you will be outside as well. You will join us for all dinners, and I expect you will be at all official kingdom functions as true guests of the realm. You were correct when you so ignorantly called my hospitality renowned,” the madam said, smiling proudly. “It is.” 

The Captain grated his teeth. She knew space junkies hated being on land and she was going to make him pay for his time here. “Fine.”  

The Druid

I hate mortals. They are so pesky and always asking questions, thinking my power means that I have some sort of innate knowledge of them and their place in the universe. Does the eagle think of the ant? I can make a place for you, ant. You may not like it though.

The Druid paced in a large chamber of a cave, deep in the mountains of Longaurdia’s forest planet. A large, perfectly clear underground pond took up most of the large chamber, reflecting light from a hole in the ceiling which danced on slick wet black rock walls. Patches of phosphorescence on the walls reflected light up and down the tunnel.

This would be a fine prison. A fine place to spend eternity. If only they were so lucky. In order for them to taste what they call freedom, payment is necessary. It is a simple law of the universe.

The Druid walked down the tunnel and through the entrance of the cave, a veil of vines with fragrant pink and white flowers. He sat and waited for the snake. It did not make him wait long. The deafening sounds of such a large animal could be heard from far away. When it reached the cave’s entrance, it arced its body up like a cobra and lowered its mouth menacingly above the Druid’s head.

“Go south of here,” he told the snake. “You will find an ocean. Sleep there until I call you again.”

It issss not a sssslave. Why should a god wait on a beacon?

“You are what I make of you. Do as I ask or you will be dismissed.”

Pity you are so ssssmall. When it eats you, it will not even know it. But you will, you will… the snake’s voice trailed off in the Druid’s head as it turned and slithered south.

The Druid thought to himself, smiling, The green have never found a problem they could not eat. Always vying to be the strongest. The fittest. The Druid laughed at his little joke. I will need more pets, but at least in that the green is plentiful. Bountiful even. The Imperium and their slaves needed to be taught a lesson and this is a good place for it. 

Deirdre Willas

Deirdre Willas, my mother, considered herself the finest wench in all of Longaurdia. She was born for it. If there was an official job called “wench” – she would have it. But tavern mistress was pretty much the same thing, at least the way she did it. She scrubbed the floor of the tavern, dirt and bubbles dancing under her brush, back and forth, back and forth.

Pity there isn’t someone here to watch me, she mused to herself. Her ample, but not too ample, wench bottom wagged back and forth working opposite her hands.  

“That’s a good wench!” A man barked drunkenly, leering as he walked through the tavern door.  

She turned to see her husband, my father, Jack. She could tell by the redness on his dark tanned skin and the way his shaggy brown hair stood on end that he was drunk. My father was always drunk.
“Eh, husband! Drunk at this time a day? Disgraceful!” She stood up and made a face to scare a church boy, putting her hands on her hips to make sure he knew she meant business. She wouldn’t have minded such a greeting from someone else, but her husband was no paying customer. 

“Ah woman, can’t a man be happy to see his wife when he gets let off early. Let’s celebrate and make another screamer!” It is the curse of all drunks that they think drunkenness and the confidence it brings makes them more attractive to their mates. Jack slid his hand around Deirdre’s waist and tried to bring her in for a kiss.

“Have you no sense of romance!” She slapped him and pushed him away. “Think you can just waltz in here and have your way with me, ay? No flowers, no romancing, just straight to the bedroom? You ain’t as pretty as you once were, Jack. ‘Sides, I got a floor ta clean and glasses ta ready. Traveling minstrels came ta town, so we be expecting a good showing tonight.”

“I never said nothin’ about a bedroom… there’s plenty of sturdy tables here.”  The smiling drunk wouldn’t give up so easily. “Where’s your sense of adventure lass, don’t you remember how fast you’d give it to me before all this nonsense with the tavern? It’s driven us away from each other, luv. I just want to be close to ya.”

“You just want to get your dick wet. Now get upstairs and sober up. I’ll need yer help with cooking t’night. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you stay up late and watch me dance.” He used to be such a good man. Time and whiskey had taken so much away. But as boring as he was, he did help with the tavern when needed, and he was a better father than any other sad drunk in this town.

Dejected, Jack headed upstairs as Deirdre went back to scrubbing the floor. The door to the tavern flung open again and a tall, thin man strutted in. He looked ridiculous. He wore blue leggings, suede shoes and a floppy burgundy bard’s hat that, stiff from lack of wear, made awkward angles in its floppiness. An ill-fitting embroidered gold tunic hung off his slight frame. His face was an intense contrast of pale white with jet black hair and eyes that belied a fire underneath that was strangely appealing.  

“Good sir, welcome to the Whispy Whipper-will!” Deirdre got to her feet and quickly moved behind the bar, checking that her curly brown hair was just right in the mirror and that her bust was appropriately lifted. She gave herself a smile and wink before turning back to the stranger. “Would you like a cool beverage on this fine warm day? We have the finest cider and draft in Longaurdia.”

The man bowed low and doffed his cap in an out-of-place gesture of chivalry. Deidre’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you kindly! I’ll have your finest pint milady. I am looking for the purveyor of this fine establishment so that I may make an accord.”

Deirdre smiled, as she poured a pint of yellow lager. “Then look no further, lad. I am both the owner and proprietor of this here tavern. Deirdre Willas, happy to make your acquaintance.”

The stranger made another even more extravagant bow. “The honor is all mine! I go by the name Frank Berrum.”

She set the beer before him and leaned down onto her elbows to encourage adventurous eyes. “Well then, Mr. Berrum, what can I help you with?”

Mr. Berrum’s eyes did wander and his smile widened at what they saw. “I have come with a band of traveling minstrels. We are here a short time, but are looking for places to ply our trade. Would you have any place for a lutenist to perform for spare change and tips?”

Deirdre motioned toward the empty stage. “We have a stage. You’re welcome to it. You can play what you like, but the more spirited songs bring the biggest crowds here… if ‘tis locals your lookin’ to please.”

Mr. Berrum gulped. He looked like he hadn’t seen a woman in years. She batted her large, round brown eyes and smiled.

“We aim to please everyone,” he replied with just a little too much leer. He took a swig of beer to break eye contact. “How’s business these days? You getting plenty of travelers?”

“Just you, dearie. But I hear you brought quite the troupe with you. Have you set your dates with the Madam yet? I don’t want to step on any royal toes.”

He involuntarily coughed at the mention of the Madam, but recovered with a smile and a wink. “She’ll have to share us with you. But don’t worry, we will have special reserved seats set aside at our royal performances for those that… catch our eye.” 

Alice Trebor

Ensign Alice Trebor was a careerist, or so she had recently decided. She was the best tracker on the Challenger Five and she knew it. Her affair with the captain, Frank Berrum, could have derailed her upward movement in the Imperial Navy but she had ended that. Frank was a good lay, but not worth risking the perception of favoritism. And wasn’t that a perfect thing? Everyone would be impressed by a man fucking his superior – but for a woman, even the hint of impropriety could undo years of test scores and favorable reviews.

It hadn’t passed her notice that Captain Berrum had changed the voice setting of the ship to match hers, nor had her fellow trackers let her live it down yet. But what he thought was a romantic gesture meant to win her back by publicly acknowledging their relationship only revealed to her his emotional weakness and political naïveté. Of course, he insisted the system glitched, but he wasn’t fooling her or her teammates. Alice generally kept her head down, so most of the crew did not know who the source of the new voice was. But that wouldn’t last forever. She needed to get an assignment off this ship as soon as possible. After this mission, she would be eligible to request for a change of assignment and move on with her career.

Alice stepped into the feet of her jet-black jumpsuit, then worked her well-built arms and shoulders in. She was proud of her bulky, muscular physique, the result of both endless hours in the gym and well spent credits on genetic enhancements. She zipped the suit up her two-meter frame, and then put her costume on over: a brown closed-necked full-length peasant dress, a long-sleeved sweater and simple slippers, worn without socks. She tied back her blond hair in a ponytail, blotted some artificial dirt substitute on her face, and regarded herself skeptically in the mirror. It would be hot as hell but she didn’t look like she came from outer space.

“Stop it with the makeup already, Trebor. Outside in five.” Her squad leader, Lt. Roger Torry, popped his head around the locker, smiling. He looked like a ridiculous medieval farmer. As a cover husband, though, the two of them matched. Most importantly she knew he had her back. The two had been through some rough situations together and always came out with all their limbs attached.

“Alright, hubby, let’s find this asshole so we can get out of here.” Alice responded, punching her squad leader’s arm. “You still need to beat my high score on the asteroid scenario… or are you admitting defeat?”

“No, no, little ninja.” It rankled Alice that Torry called her little even though she was five centimeters taller than him and could out-lift him in three of the five official lifts; but she would need at least two more rounds of muscle building bio enhancements to match his massive barrel chest and shoulders. Until then, he would treat her like a little sister. “I’ll never give in. You’re gonna have to wrestle that Hirohito sword out of my cold, dead fingers.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She presented herself in front of him. “What do you think? Do I look appropriately feudal?”

Lt. Torry momentarily came out of banter mode, regarded her professionally for a second, then broke into a big grin. “Like every mud farmer’s wet dream. Let’s do this.”

The meeting with Captain Berrum went as expected. He met the trackers at the embarrassingly named tavern, the Whispy Whipper-Will. After whining incessantly about an awful headache and droning on about standard protocols, he gave them the only lead they would need. Apparently, the overgrown snake that captured the ship left a clearly visible path out of town that would likely take them straight to Reiss.

Since they were not allowed out of town without escort – which would not be approved – they would have to wait for the cover of night. Contrary to regulations, radio support would be available since local security presumably did not have the technology to monitor them. Many things could be said about Frank, but he always did look out for his people and didn’t mind busting protocol to do so. Trebor and Torry were to gain sight on Reiss and report back while establishing containment. Alice would have preferred to bring Reiss back herself and save time, but it wasn’t her call. The captain clearly regarded Reiss as dangerous and didn’t want them to engage without backup.

The two trackers decided to lay low and rent a room for the next two nights. The tavern owner looked at them suspiciously, but when the captain asked her to help him “tune his lute,” she turned into a fawning school girl and practically threw the keys at Alice. 

Longaurdia

The Madam was born Rachel Longaurdia, a name she hated and tried to avoid as it reminded her of a troubled youth and weakness she wished to purge from her memory. She preferred Jocasta because it reminded her of the heroine of the fantasy novels she loved as a child. Her people called her Madam, although she preferred “The Madam.” In a few months she would be known as “The Provider,” or maybe “Great Mother.” She hadn’t decided yet. 

Her lessons with the Druid were moving at a snail’s pace. The Druid’s instructions were convoluted. He acted as if his great gift did not require any effort at all and were as natural as breathing. It was not so easy for her. But she’d get it. Eventually, she mastered everything she set her mind to. One of the benefits of immortality was that she had the time.

Longaurdia met the Druid an Imperial year ago at a party of Planetary Managers thrown on a luxury planet owned by a business rival. The Druid had walked with her through one of the planet’s rainforest paths. As they walked, the plants themselves seemed to feed off him. Birds sang louder and more beautifully. He summoned a jaguar that licked her hand and purred under her touch. 

The Druid promised that day to teach her how to increase her crop yields and control the nature of her planet with her mind. She would have abilities that seemed like only a dream before. Her people would come to revere her. They already loved her but she needed to be worshipped. Why be ageless and immune to disease if those that look at you still just see a normal (albeit incredibly beautiful) woman?

She had started her lessons with the Druid a few months later while he was still off world, through black market communication relays that were occasionally frustrating, and always inconvenient. With the Druid on planet, she had hoped he would bring new energy and consistency to the training, but there were always excuses or surprises that frustrated Jocasta’s timeline. And now with the arrival of the Imperial cruiser, it seemed like just another delay to achieving her dream.

“Captain, I am entering meditation, please ensure I am not disturbed for the next hour.”

“Yes Madam.” Captain Odima bowed and retreated from the room with his eyes lowered. She looked after him approvingly. He was a good man. Extremely loyal but with enough integrity to object in appropriate ways. He had been imported to the planet, brought in from off world with the highest recommendation from the galaxy’s most prestigious personal protection company. This could have been a disaster if he had failed to integrate with their unique culture, but Odima fit in seamlessly and even started a family with a local. She felt lucky to have him.

The Madam approached the bird bath turned scrying pool she had constructed per the Druid’s instructions. She stared at the pooled water, focusing, and trying to remember the words. She closed her eyes and pictured the Druid in her mind. She began chanting and stirring her hands over the water as if she were a witch over a cauldron. The water rippled and adrenaline shot through her body, a still unfamiliar rush. Most things had stopped surprising her after a few centuries so these strange sensations were a welcome reminder that she was, in fact, still alive. The Druid’s pale nude body came into view. He stood in the cave, looking directly at her. Even through the scrying pool, the Druid’s eyes pierced right through her. It completely unnerved her.

“I see you haven’t found any clothes to wear to keep these conversations decent,” she said. Bravado was her only protection from revealing her crushing and uncharacteristic lack of confidence whenever she dealt with the Druid. 

“The green thrives on the natural. Remember your teachings and the purpose is revealed,” the Druid intoned, like a teacher tired of having to repeat the same lessons over and over again. “If you desire prudence, civility and cultural trappings, perhaps you should choose another color.”

“Yes, well, the Imperium ship carrying your hunters has been captured and its crew are contained within my walls for the foreseeable future. Your… summon did a little too much damage to their ship, so they will have to spend seven days in repair. I wish you had found another way to contain them as the damage gave them an excuse to stay longer.”

“Do not doubt that I have reasons for everything I do, Jocasta. I did not exactly have a long time to make more subtle arrangements. And do not worry. The snake has gone back to sleep in the ocean. Your city is in no danger.” It really unnerved her that the Druid knew Jocasta’s deepest fears intuitively. He paused for a second, looking off as if distracted by something. “I have to prepare. The Imperials are coming. Your silly laws cannot protect me. I will do what I have to. No time for lessons tonight.”

The pool rippled and the Druid disappeared. Damn that space jock. Jocasta quickly moved to her desk, unlocked a secret compartment and pulled out a folded computer and antenna. The screen came to life and she started typing. Her message to the Imperial Council for Cultural Sensitivity and Protection was quick and perfunctory, requesting review of Imperial activity on her property. She waited as the satellite overhead made connection and confirmed receipt of her message. The device chirped with the Imperial response almost immediately. An inquisitor would arrive in three days to review the situation. So much for taking the nice route.

The Captain

The Captain enjoyed playing the lute and, in places like this, it usually got him laid. In this tiny town, there weren’t many options when it came to women, but he only needed one. The fact that the matron kept staring at him like a teenager seeing her first pop star seemed like a perfect opportunity. Bored women in places like this needed an escape and he always needed an excuse not to think about Alice. 

After his performance, the Captain walked to the bar, winked at Deirdre, and plopped down a coin purse full of tip money. “I’ll have a glass of your finest milady, and won’t you join me for a round?”

“Thank ya kindly… I think I will.” They raised their glasses, clanked them together, and each took large gulps. “And thanks for the crowds. I made some money tonight.” Then out of the corner of her mouth, she said, “More than my husband lost me drinking himself silly, somehow.”

“Ah, the cook? He seems to be in a bad way,” said the Captain. “But I did enjoy his meat pie. A little burnt on the edges, but good on the inside.”

“Story of his life, unfortunately. I have to close up shop. The madam has declared a curfew tonight, so I best be havin’ my lights off ‘fore midnight.”

“Don’t let me get in your way. I’ll head up to my room. Would you mind bringing me a midnight snack from whatever’s left over in the kitchen whenever you’re done?”

“Sure thing dearie. I’ll be there in a flash,” Deirdre said with a beaming smile. Then she began waking the patrons that had passed out on the bar and shooing them out of the tavern.  

The Captain went to his room and established a communications link with his ship. He put on an ear piece and listened for the three beeps and static from the authentication process. The voice of his first officer, Tom Kildare came through, “How goes it Cap’n?”

“Good enough. How’s my ship?”

“Angie shows suitable for space travel with all hull breaches contained. We’d be at limited speed still for another twelve hours of repair but most of that is internal to propulsion and power. All gyros will be available in another 24hrs… so tip top shape by this time day after tomorrow,” Tom reported.

“Great, any word from the trackers? I know they had planned to sneak out at nightfall.”

“Affirm. They’ve reported exiting the city without apparent detection. Next report time is in two hours.”

“Alright Tom, sounds good. I’m going to try to get some shut eye, but I’ll be available in case of emergency. Who’s on next watch?”

“Bob is. I’ll pass on your instructions. Have a good night, Captain.”

The Captain disconnected the link and looked at himself in the mirror, rubbing his face and running his hand through his black hair. He smiled at himself then took a drink of beer. A knock on the door and Deirdre came in carrying a plate of potatoes and turkey, “Your dinner, milord,” she demurred.

“Just in time, milady.” The Captain sat himself down on the bed and she handed him the plate. “Thank you kindly.”

“Well, you have a good night. I’ll get to my cleanin’.”

“Oh, it can wait a moment, can’t it? I hate to eat alone,” the Captain innocently pleaded. He pat the bed and gave her his best puppy dog eyes.

“Well, alright,” Deirdre said. She slowly sat herself down, smiling coyly. “How long have you been minstreling for? You seem quite practiced.”

“It’s an off and on thing. I think I just kind of fall into it when the occasion arises. But I hate to eat and talk at the same time. Why don’t you tell me how you came to run your own tavern here?” The Captain dug into his potatoes, mashing them up and eating them with his turkey. The food was surprisingly good and he hadn’t had real meat in months.

Deirdre paused a second, watching him dig in. The Captain could tell she was weighing whether it would be indecent to stay or not. He quietly held his breath waiting for her to make her decision. When she began talking, he smiled to himself.

“Twas a family business. I was born here and me parents were among the originals. Guess you can say they had experience in the business from ‘fore and so they, well, passed it onto me when they passed. I guess I’ll pass it on to mine when I go as well. We have two kids, aged five and nine years. Me husband is a good man and we make their life pretty good, for here at least.” She paused for a second. “The kids are at their father’s parents’ house tonight. I sent them over there when you all came into town. Do you mind if I ask where you really come from? I saw the snake and your… ship… come out of it.”

“Um, I guess you can say I come from the stars.” The Captain shifted uncomfortably. He did not like breaking cultural protocol by talking about the Imperium. But her openness and curiosity made her seem different, worthy of at least some truth. “There was a planet or station at some point or another, but I’ve been out there most of my life. How did you know it was a ship? Or even what to call it?”

“My da and ma told me about out there when I was a kid. They didn’t come here in the best of states. Their lives had fallen apart. They were in debt and couldn’t find work after a bomb destroyed the tavern that they worked. They were told by the Madam that their debts would be absolved and they would be given a new life and a fresh start. All they had to do was sign on and play along with the lie. They never lied to me about the situation here, but when it was time to choose between stayin’ or goin’, I decided to stay.” Deirdre shrugged and looked away. “My parents needed me as they had become ill – cancer they called it. A lot of the originals got it. But they couldn’t take care of the tavern anymore and I didn’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Do you ever regret it?” the Captain asked in between enormous bites of turkey. This was a pretty boring story when it came down to it, but he bet it would have a good ending for him. These women just needed someone who listened to them, and he would happily let her do the talking.

“I guess every day.” She laughed, looking at him again. “And never. I donna understand a thing outside Longaurdia. But I feel as if I’m missing it all. And as if I’m livin’ a lie, ya know?  That’s why my husband took to drink. He didn’t know nothin’ about it all ‘til I told him. He couldn’t take it. So, he shutters himself in wit’ drink. At the time, he wanted to know what the big secret about this place was, but now I think he wished he didn’t know.” Deirdre paused to collect herself. “What’s it like out there? My parents used to talk about freedom like it was something sacred, but also something false. It… it was more confusing than anything else.”

The Captain sighed, letting the exhale fill the room and the silence. “You’re asking something I don’t even know how to answer. Every place is a little bit different. But everywhere, everyone asks the same questions. Either that or they’ve given up asking because they’re only worried about their next meal. Honestly, I think your parents got a pretty good deal. This world is in better shape than most and your madam appears to take pride in your general wellbeing. This place is probably better and safer than a free world for raising a family.”

Deirdre sat in silence for a moment, thinking about it. “But it’s not real. We haven’t told our children and I don’t think we will. We don’t make enough money to send them off world with any sort of chance to go to school and they would be so far behind.” Tears welled in her eyes. The Captain felt suddenly uncomfortable. He did not expect to have to play psychiatrist. It was a bit of a turn off. “We’re livin’ a lie, and my kids, little loves, they won’t ever know any different.”

“Probably for the best that you don’t tell them.” The Captain put an arm on her shoulder. “That way they don’t carry that burden. I think everyone lives a lie. At least your kids get to live a good one. That’s why I decide my truth and run with it. I have to follow orders like everyone else, but my ship is my home. She’s all I got.”

Deirdre looked at his hand on her shoulder, then turned to him and looked him in the eyes. “I want so much to see the stars, and see the places you see. Maybe then I’d be able to come back and see this place as you see it. As my parents saw it. I’m tired of seeing only what they let me.”

The Captain’s mouth went dry as he sensed opportunity. Her dark brown eyes glowed with an energy and passion he had given up on long ago. He wanted her, and he knew he could have her. A ring from his comm link broke the moment and the Captain moved to answer it too quickly, upsetting his plate and spilling its contents on the floor. 

“Dammit this better be good,” the Captain growled into the mic.

“Captain,” Tom’s voice came through the connection. “We received a distress call from the trackers. They say they are under attack.”

“Shit. Activate the go team. Send them out full force, no regard to culture. It’s late enough the fall out will be minimal. I will try to meet them at the west gate. But if I am not there, don’t have them wait.”

“Yes sir. Go team will be outbound in two minutes.”

The comm cut out, and the Captain looked at Deirdre, “Sorry luv, duty calls. Mind cleaning this up for me?”

Alice Trebor

Everything had been going so well. They snuck out of the city without a problem. The guards were drunk from all the various celebrations going on throughout the city. Apparently, the appearance of a mystical snake god triggered the observance of several rituals heavy on drinking. It helped that the forest was close enough that Alice and her squad leader did not have to run far through the open. Finding the trail was easy. How could they miss a break in the woods a hundred meters wide that went off as far as they could see?  

The two trackers walked along the trail for what felt like hours. At first, they stayed on one side of the dug-out moat, but the going there was hard. As a fog settled in, they became less and less motivated to remain stealthy. Time seemed to stand still and everything looked the same, so it never felt like they made any progress. The two scouts felt uncharacteristically tired, dragging their feet as they walked.  

“The captain was not kidding about this path. Do you really think a snake could have done this?” Alice asked in a hushed tone.

Her squad leader whistled. “I don’t know. Seems pretty unbelievable to me. Though if it swallowed the ship, it’d have to be this big. What kind of growth hormones and genetic technology are they cooking up here? That’s the real question. The facilities would all have to be underground. I mean, I haven’t seen an artificial light or anything, and with how those stars looked before this fog settled in. Shit, I just don’t even know.”

“Yeah, it sure is something. How long would it take to make one of those things? I mean, just the life cycle alone, plus the grow time… how long has this place been here?”

Lt Torry scrunched up his face, “According to the planetoid report, it has only been active for one hundred and fifty years, but it had been owned by another Manager prior to the last Consolidation War. I imagine if they had some sort of quickened birthing process, they could probably cook one of these up in a hundred years or so… problem is, how do you also train it to swallow an interstellar ship – let alone have it know the exact location we were landing? Best not think about it too much. Usually there’s a simple solution, but it can’t be seen from looking right at it. If I’ve learned anything tracking these charlatans down it’s that they’ll use any opening to sow doubt and make you question your own birth.” Torry reached up and scratched at his hair as if tickled by something. He stared at his hand, expecting a bug to be there, but came up empty. Then he continued. “On Grono 3 we lost three men because some guy calling himself The Illusionist convinced them they were all created in a bio lab and had been implanted with memories by the Imperium to control them. I’m no huge fan of the Imperium, but they do pay the bills. One of those guys, I’ve known since grade school. In fact, I still have a scar from the time me and him were climbing a fence to steal some water rations.” He pulled back his hair line to reveal old scar tissue. “I fell and almost cracked my skull open. Pete, my buddy, saved my life getting me back over that fence and he got me back home before the cops showed up, so we got away. After five minutes with this Illusionist clown, Pete turned on me and the whole squad. Had to put him down right there.”

“Huh, fucking mind games,” Alice grunted.

The two walked in silence for another hour as the fog thickened around them.

“If this fog gets any worse, we’ll have to stop. I can hardly see five meters. We could walk right by Reiss and not even know it.” The fog swirled about their feet thickly, somehow making every step progressively more grueling.

Alice looked down. “What the hell?” The fog bunched up around her feet like a wake, but instead of rippling off, it appeared to attach to her feet and legs. Then she saw that what had looked like gaseous flowing fog was actually many thin strands of some sort of white fiber.

Torry put his hand up and the two stopped. Alice watched him reach down to pull the strands off his leg and instead of coming off, the strands attached to his hand. He tried to bring his hand up from his foot but the strands came with, making him unable to raise his hand past his knees. He grunted from exertion and Alice saw that many more strands were around Torry’s waste and thighs.

“Wait, don’t move,” Torry said. “This appears to be some sort of webbing, maybe a booby trap. I have a knife in my boot. I should be able to cut myself out. We will back track and move off this path. See if you can move backwards.” Torry reached into his boot strap and pulled out his knife, but he could no longer stand up straight he was so entangled in these strange white strands.  

“Shit, I can’t really move backwards. What is this stuff?” Alice pulled her feet up and down without being able to separate them from the strands. The strands moved up and down with her feet like cartoonish white gum. 

Alice saw black shapes in the fog. The first one looked like it was floating slowly across their path, like a large bird, but with a rounder body. Two more shadows about the same size floated over the two-person squad and then a third, much larger shadow approached straight on. As it came within view, she saw a bulbous body the size of a large beach ball with a smaller round head and ten glimmering eyes all focused on her squad leader. Eight long, thin legs stretched out for at least five meters on either side of the body as the giant spider slowly stalked forward unperturbed by the webbing.  

She didn’t know what to say, all she could get out was, “Um… sir…”

Alice reached instinctively for her firearm at her hip but something got in the way. They had forgotten to take off their disguises after reaching the tree line and her gun was under the peasant dress. She worked feverishly at the folds of her dress. Her brain refused to believe what she was seeing. No spiders were that big. Finally, her training kicked in and she yelled, “Contact front!”

Lieutenant Torry tried to turn his head to see what she was looking at, but the strands had wrapped around him so that he could no longer turn his upper body or even his head. Alice’s normally measured and calm tactical movements became hurried and frantic as she worked to free her firearm. The more she struggled, the more she became entwined in the white strands. Torry quickly activated his emergency transmitter located under his left wrist, which simultaneously activated his mouth piece. “Team Echo request immediate armed backup, approximately twelve clicks west of town on the road. Contact unknown.”

Torry’s voice cut out abruptly as Alice watched the huge spider bite into Torry’s shoulder and then quickly began wrapping him up in webbing like a fly. By this time completely immobilized by the effects of her own thrashing, Alice was unable to fight back when what felt like two sacks of potatoes fell on her, one on each shoulder. She turned her head to the right and watched a smaller spider, still larger than her head sink its fangs into her neck just above her shoulder. Her last thought before she lost consciousness was a memory from her childhood of being rocked to sleep by her mother singing a lullaby.