Location: Harper’s Center, Barrowsford, Star Kingdom of Windsor
“What!” The wine decanter exploded in the Queen’s hand as the news reached her ear. It was a very undiplomatic reaction.
She was dining with select loyalist members of her planet’s new government. The new Prime Minister was sitting on Josephina’s right, with her husband, and she’d been working up to the formal declaration that a new government had been formed in Josephina’s name, so the Queen’s outburst threw everyone off.
The words had been whispered in Josephina’s ear by her trusted personal attendant, Theodore. Theodore was part executive assistant, part spymaster, part bodyguard, and one hundred percent loyal. She’d brought him to Barrowsford with her so he could work his magic, which she saw essential to the governance of her new domain.
“Your Majesty?” the new PM looked and felt a little awkward saying those two words, but she still said them respectfully, if only for the fact that she’d just watched her sovereign crush a glass bottle with her bare hands. So far, no one on Barrowsford seemed to have any enhanced physical or mental attributes.
“Something dreadful has just come to my attention,” she accepted the cloth napkin from Theodore to clean the wine off her arm. None of the glass had punctured her skin. “There has been a terrorist attack on our troops and the energy infrastructure of Stonewall Valley.”
Gasps echoed through the dining room followed by grim, determined faces. The newly elected government of Barrowsford wasn’t soft. They were the deprived masses that had been forced to live under the tyrannical rule of the Commonwealth and its corporate puppet masters. They were ready to fight and die for the new freedom Josephina had brought to them. The new Queen could see in their eyes that they just wished peace would last a little longer.
She had one eye on them and one eye on what the alien bioseed was feeding directly into her ocular nerve. Data and video were streaming across her vision. All of the soldiers’ helmet cams had been recording when the attacks occurred. All the attacks were different, yet followed the same premise. There was an initial attack, something large enough to overwhelm the physical defenses. A vehicle-borne improvised explosive devices (VBIED)s seemed to be the weapon of choice. After that came a ground attack. Troops in mismatched armor, weapons, and generally lacking in tactics rushed the battered barricades. In some cases, the royal marines recovered in enough time to engage them, and in others they did not.
A second wave of soldiers followed and they either ran into heavy resistance, tripping over the dead bodies of their traitorous friends in the process, or they helped overrun her marines. Her mind scrolled through the videos until two stood out. Both showed large soldiers leading the charge against her troops. One, she couldn’t tell the sex, was encased in the same suit of armor that her techs were dismantling and studying in the basement of her palace. She didn’t want to call it a dungeon, but the term fit. The second was a large man in mismatched, basic Commonwealth armor. She knew there was a story behind the wardrobe choice, but she was too busy watching his actions.
He moved with speed and confidence. He was over the barricades and tossing grenades through shields before the marines even knew what hit them.
She’d yet to gain any meaningful intelligence out of her prisoners, but it seemed that they weren’t alone.
The aliens the Empire was trading with had told of ingenious ways to transport troops across the galaxy, but the Empress had forgone that technology in favor of advanced warships. Instead, she’d purchased the technology to disrupt that mode of travel. These scramblers interfered with the transmission method, either killing the people in transit or disrupting their landing. There were many factors that determined the death versus dispersed outcome, but the two chief factors were distance and lock on target.
“Theodore, please send word to Vice Admiral Westwood to step up patrols. We have reason to believe enemy scouts are in the area, and I want them found and destroyed. Also, contact Colonel Buckton. I want a full briefing on the situation after dinner. Prime Minister, you are more than welcome to attend.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I want to find these terrorists as much as you.” From the look on the other woman’s face, Josephina believed her.
“Another bottle of wine then,” she called and a fresh bottle practically materialized at her shoulder.
Against normal protocol, but only because it was necessary with the people of Barrowsford, Josephina got to her feet and poured the wine for her guest before raising her own glass. “To those who have fallen. We will never forget.”
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“And we will never surrender,” the PM added as they downed the tangy liquid that was fruitier than any other wine Josephina had ever tasted.
The Queen gave the elected leader a smile and wondered if this native woman could be a trusted ally or someone she would eventually have to dispense with.