The Shape of Surrender

Nalyra’s gaze roved over the various camera feeds, her lips slightly pursed. Each window showed a different feed, around half of them currently working their way through the final building of the military compound.

Her Armswomen had breached the entrance almost half a bell before, and they were closing in on clearing the entire building. Her troops had encountered a number of small pockets of resistance — pairs or trios of mercenaries who had locked themselves in offices or meeting rooms. Nearly all had surrendered, faced with the Citadel’s superior forces.

The only issue was that the building was turning out to be almost aggressively plain. There were offices, meeting rooms, a few executive suites and a functional armory — all things you would reasonably expect to find in a PMC’s military complex. There were no documents or tablets lying around, and only a few consoles and workstations, all unpowered. As if the building were a carefully staged imitation of a military operation’s outpost.

Sivena’s polished smile was returning with each empty room the Citadel’s soldiers cleared. Nalyra had to actively suppress a bleed of irritation. She needed some kind of evidence from this complex, she had been counting on it. A shipping manifest, memos from an officer or executive, something. Of course, finding the missing women would be the best outcome, but that was looking less and less likely.

The Crown Daughter’s snare was unraveling right before her eyes.

Without more evidence, High Matron Sivena and High Lady Rastia were quite likely to slip through her fingers. Even with the autonomous weapons present and activated, it would not be too difficult for the head of Meridian to pin the blame on a subordinate. Some heads may roll, and certainly the company overall would face numerous audits, penalties, and restrictions from the Crown, but with a High House so openly backing them, the company would likely survive in some form.

“While I certainly applaud the bravery and skill of your Armswomen, Crown Daughter, was it really necessary to bring us here to witness it?” The High Matron’s voice was self-assured, with more than a hint of smugness.

Even Rastia had calmed down, now noticeably more relaxed than before. The color had even somewhat returned to the woman’s face.

“The unfortunate actions of a few panicked security personnel aside,” the High Matron continued, her gaze on the camera feeds, her painted lips twisted into a slight smirk. “Even though this little complex might have been operating without authorization of the Monarchy, it seems more a question of civil litigation, rather than whatever grand conspiracy you seem convinced is taking place here,”

“Citadel soldiers are dead, High Matron,” Nalyra returned quietly.

“Please, do not worry,” Rastia put in eagerly. “I shall find out whoever ordered this unauthorized use of the company’s funds and infrastructure, Crown Daughter, and you have my word they will be taken care of.”

Already shifting blame. Nalyra didn’t bother giving the woman the dignity of a reply.

Her gaze returned to the viewports. It seemed the building had been fully cleared, as the last few mercenaries to surrender were being led out of the complex in restraints. The Crown Daughter cursed internally. She looked to the feeds of her consort and her commander. They were both in the same place, a conference room that seemed to be located near the center of the building. Curiously, they were both looking at the floor. Odd.

“Ensign, enable audio feeds for the Lieutenant Commander and Shield Consort,” she ordered.

“Yes, Royal Hand.”

A moment later, and Mikka’s voice sounded throughout the bridge.

“—I’m telling you man, something’s weird here.”

“What are you talking about, Mikka?” Tor’laen asked.

“Here. Look.” The Zakkili ran a gloved hand over the grey carpet. “It’s all fucked up here. Especially compared to the rest. Like someone was dragging something heavy over it, a lot.”

It was difficult to tell through the camera feed, but Nalyra could somewhat see what the woman meant.

“Also, why would you have this shit,” her camera panned upwards, showing a line of empty filing shelves along the wall, “in a damn conference room?”

“You do have a point,” Tor’laen’s voice was thoughtful.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nalyra noticed that Sivena had gone very still.

“Here, this one.” Mikka pointed to one of the filing shelves. “Seems like it matches the damage to the floor. Get rid of it, would you?”

Through Mikka’s feed, the bridge watched as Tor’laen easily lifted the shelf, and simply hurled it across the room, where it landed with a crash. Perhaps her consort was also frustrated by the lack of evidence.

The Lieutenant Commander now had the side of her helmet pressed against the wall, where the filing shelf had been a moment earlier. She rapped her fist against it, producing a hollow knocking sound.

A sharp spike of dread bled off of Rastia. Nalyra carefully kept her eyes fixed on the viewports.

“Yeah, look at this,” Mikka beckoned to Tor’laen over the feed. “Tell me this doesn’t look like a secret fucking door.”

“It does appear to be an entrance of some kind. But how to open it?”

“A breaching charge feels risky, since we’ve got no idea of what’s on the other side. It doesn’t feel too heavy, so I’m thinking a Ydani-shaped solution is the best bet here.” Mikka backed away from the wall.

“Very well,” Tor’laen chuckled, moving into position.

Nalyra watched through Mikka’s feed as he moved into position, wedging his fingers into the fine seam in the wall. A moment later, he started to pull, grunting with the effort. His muscles strained and bulged, visible even under his plating and fatigues as his fingers dug farther into the wall’s false paneling. At first it seemed like it was not enough, but the Ydani was not to be denied. With a strained growl, he gave a mighty heave, and the door slowly inched open, the internal mechanisms giving way.

He dragged the door completely open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down under the facility. Nalyra breathed a little easier. The snare was still intact.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Mikka breathed. “I always wanted to do something like this.”

“Shall we regroup with reinforcements before we enter?” Tor’laen asked, peering down into the darkness.

“I don’t want anyone destroying evidence down there while we wait, but…” muttered Mikka. She tapped her finger on the side of her helmet. “Chapel squad, move to our position, we’ve got something here.”

Before the Lieutenant Commander or Shield Consort could say anything else, the muffled crack of gunfire rang out, echoing up the staircase. Three shots, then silence.

“Fuck!” Mikka swore. “Let’s move!”

Tor’laen was already in motion, his feed switching to night vision as he bounded down the stairs. Mikka’s helmet did the same as she hurried down after him.

“We have shots fired!” the Lieutenant Commander barked over the operations channel. “Haul your asses over here, Chapel!”

Tor’laen had reached the bottom of the stairs, his feed showing him slowly sweeping around the corner, weapon raised.

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The room was large, bigger than several of the offices or conference rooms from above put together. A number of desks lined one wall, tablets and documents visible on top of them. Against the opposite wall were several long lab counters, various vials and chemical containers sitting on top. Perhaps the most disturbing part was the half dozen operating tables that took up the center of the space, all currently unoccupied. Each one had a series of Zakkili sized restraints built in, two for the wrists and two for the ankles.

A trickle of alarm was building in the back of Nalyra’s mind. She did not like where this was going. She hoped, very much so, that it would not lead to what she suspected.

She glanced over at the two women next to her. Sivena’s face was a blank mask, her body as rigid as stone. Rastia, on the other hand, was trembling, a look halfway between panic and confusion on her face.

“Star Citadel forces! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands on your head, or you die!” Mikka yelled into the underground room, moving beside Tor’laen. “Those sounded like small-caliber, sidearms maybe. Nothing that can punch through our plating,” she added, switching to the command channel.

“Even still, let us use caution,” he muttered back, sweeping around the operating tables.

Another few long moments of tension passed, before something appeared on Tor’laen’s feed.

“I don’t think we need to worry about an ambush, Mikka.”

Three figures, a pair of Zakkili women and one man, lay on the floor. Each was dressed in a coat, looking like some kind of doctor or researcher. A small handgun lay in each of their now-limp grips.

“Fuck,” Mikka said simply, arriving next to him. “Guess they weren’t looking to get interrogated or Delved.”

The Ydani skirted the bodies, moving to the far side of the room, where a pair of corridors led deeper into the darkness. He glanced down one of the hallways, his feed jerking back as he did a double take.

“Mikka! We’ve got prisoners here!” he reported, sending the Lieutenant Commander jogging over to him. “All Zakkili women, it looks like.”

His feed showed him peering into a cell, through a large plate window. He snapped the flashlight on his SMG on, slowly panning it over the women. They were all dressed in simple surgery gowns, some lying on beds, others huddled against the walls. Some of their eyes were open, but they barely reacted to the light sweeping over them.

One woman weakly raised an arm to shield her eyes from the bright beam of the flashlight. Her gown had a small tag on the chest with no name, only a series of numbers.

“They’ve been drugged. Damnit, we need to get some medics down here,” Mikka said. “Hold tight, I’ll call it in.”

Silence had settled over the bridge of the Aegis, a mixture of concern, hope, and dread filling the room.

“Zakkili women, held against their will in an underground lab,” Nalyra’s voice was quiet, but it had a deadly edge to it. “I wonder how many of these women went missing from Kelran. Or perhaps you have been snatching them from other worlds as well?”

The High Matron said nothing, her gaze unmoving from the viewports. Was she contemplating her world crumbling down around her, perhaps?

“I know—I know nothing of this, Crown Daughter!” Rastia said, clearly panicking. “I’m sure that this is…this is…one of my sub-commanders must have been bribed, or or or maybe they were Pressed! I would never—”

“So you have such little control over your company that a hidden military base is set up, and your women and your ships are used for sapient trafficking, and you have no idea any of it even happened,” Nalyra scoffed disdainfully. “There is a limit to how much ignorance one might claim. Even if you speak the truth, this is far too damning for you to have any hope of escaping responsibility for it.”

“Please, Crown Daughter—”

“Enough.” Nalyra lightly Pressed the woman into silence.

The Crown Daughter returned her attention to the feeds. Medics had reached the underground rooms, and they were starting to carry the drugged women from the cells. She watched for a few marks, until Mikka’s feed caught her eye. The Lieutenant Commander was talking with Tor’laen, as the two looked over some of the documents that covered the desks.

“Just what is all this shit?” Mikka was saying.

“I do not know,” Tor’laen admitted, picking up a tablet. “It seems like they were performing some kind of medical procedure on these prisoners?”

The tablet switched on at his touch. The device’s screen was full of medical information, and data about genetic sequencing. A very specific genetic sequence, one that Nalyra was familiar with. Her eyes widened at the sight, her body stiffening.

“Cut the feeds, now!” she cried, dashing to the edge of the command dais, leaning over the railing. “Vessa, give Mikka the order — get those captives out of there and seal that room! No one goes in or out until I arrive there,” Nalyra commanded, even as the feeds disappeared from the viewports.

The Crown Daughter turned to her two guests.

“High Matron Sivena. High Lady Rastia. I place you under arrest on suspicion of Royal Treason against the Crown. Sergeant Kinna, take these women into custody,” she ordered, her voice harsh and imperious.

Sivena responded by Stilling the entire squad of Armswomen.

She clearly tried to get Vessa as well, the Admiral staggering slightly. Perhaps the matron didn’t know the woman was Crown-kin — too strong to be caught by such a rushed Still.

Immediately Nalyra mentally hurled herself at the matron, their minds slamming into each other’s. Tendrils of thought, as sharp as knives, dived toward Nalyra’s core, forcing the Crown Daughter to seize them with her own thoughts, yanking them back out. The two women’s bodies were completely still as their minds waged war.

Nalyra’s mouth tasted of copper, and a few wayward memories flitted unbeckoned about her head, as the matron’s mental barbs scored the Crown Daughter’s mind. She clearly had experience with psychic battles of this sort. Nalyra growled internally, and once again had to push the woman out of her thoughts.

Sivena was High Matron from a long noble line, one that went back unbroken for thousands of years. The woman was likely stronger than most farblood, even above some of the nearblood. She also had decades of experience on Nalyra, years upon years more to sharpen her psychic powers.

But she was not a Crown Daughter.

Nalyra sent her own mental attack back at the woman, the powerful whips of rage striking at the matron’s mental defenses. Sivena flinched, gritting her teeth against the pain, and tried to counterattack, reaching out for Nalyra’s mind from several directions, trying to overwhelm the younger woman, to make her split her focus.

The Crown Daughter simply seized each individual attack, crushing the thoughts with her own. Slowly, she started to push toward the matron, cutting off each attempt to reach out, closing in on Sivena’s mind like a pack of predators might ring a panicked navar.

Before long, she had the matron’s mind utterly contained, the older woman now completely on the defensive. Gathering her mental strength, Nalyra grasped the entirety of the other woman’s mind, and started to squeeze.

Sivena fell to her knees, head clutched between her hands. The woman was shaking and trembling, nearly helpless against the Crown Daughter’s vast psychic strength.

Nalyra was vaguely aware of her Armswomen becoming able to move once more, as Sivena’s Stilling bled away. On the other side of the dais, Vessa had Rastia restrained, having put the younger woman into a joint lock, her arms pinned painfully behind her.

The Crown Daughter returned all of her focus to the matron on the floor in front of her. She pushed harder and harder, slowly crushing the woman’s mental defenses. Finally, with a feeling like the tearing of silk, the woman was helpless before Nalyra’s mind.

Now completely in control, the Crown Daughter took the opportunity to overwhelmingly Press the High Matron. The command her mind whispered into the core of the woman was simple.

Do not use any mental powers unless I explicitly allow it.

Sivena gave a noise like a keen of loss, and collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor. Nalyra stood over her, chest heaving slightly as she stared down at the matron.

“Put these two in a cell. Maximum security,” the Crown Daughter ordered. She watched as two Armswomen heaved the sobbing woman to her feet, pulling her toward the door to the Mid Deck. Another two soldiers escorted Rastia, who had seemingly lapsed into a stunned silence, Nalyra’s Press on her already long gone.

“We have much to do, and time has suddenly become essential.” The Crown Daughter moved to her seat and slumped down into it, the mental fatigue from her psychic exertion catching up with her. “Start prepping a dive to Grace Eridi Zii.” She leaned on her elbow, sagging slightly into her armrest.

“In the meanwhile, send word to Casven’s government — have them send peacekeepers to take control of House Freika’s estate and the Meridian Operations complex on the planet. A more thorough investigation will take place in time, but for now have them preserve any possible evidence and take custody of any individuals who may be involved.” Her mind went back to the harried-looking governor of Kelran, Dizita. “Also, send a Q-comm message to Kelran as well, and let the governor know that she now has authority from the Crown to seize all of Meridian’s property on the planet.” She fired out the orders rapidly.

“Finally, delete all footage of the last five marks before the feeds were cut. Primaries and backups, I want it all gone.” The images of that tablet, along with whatever else the cameras might have incidentally picked up was far too dangerous to exist digitally, even on the servers of the Aegis. She would have the physical copies of it in her hands soon enough, anyway.

She received a chorus of acknowledgement from her bridge crew, and Vessa started giving more orders, moving to make Nalyra’s will manifest.

The Crown Daughter let her gaze wander to the viewports, exhaustion creeping up on her. A small feeling of emptiness settled into her chest, her Bridge completely silent with Tor’laen so far from her.

“Soon,” she mumbled the word into her chest.