To the Victor, the Spoils: Chapter XXXII (Patreon)

And here we are. As voted on by Lieutenants and above, the second update of the month is a continuation of our post-apocalyptic series.  Thank you all for your support and I hope you enjoy this latest offering in the series!

~

Chapter XXXII:

“What have you brought me?” Alexandra said as she rose from her desk to greet Redmane. Her intelligence director’s expression was taciturn. “Something good?”

Vincent attempted a smile at his superior’s joke. “Preliminary conclusions from one of our lines of inquiry.”

Savoy cocked her head as she accepted the dossier. “You didn’t have to bring this to directly to me,” she said, her expression cautious. “Unless it’s something that you don’t think will wait until the next briefing.”

Redmane shook his head. “I’m afraid it is.”

The younger woman opened the file, sitting down as she began to leaf through it. Vincent did the same, waiting for her to finish. He watched her eyes shift over the pages. “Well,” she said after she’d had a chance to read everything for herself. “This is nothing.” Then, a low, unhappy sigh. “The worst kind of nothing.”

Vincent nodded. “Further Upwards is a big player in the Territories,” he pointed out. “We can’t risk moving against them on this evidence… conjecture,” he corrected himself. That’s exactly what they had. Nothing truly solid, only circumstance and conjecture. “I’m keeping Racomb and his people on this, but we can’t push too hard or go too fast. Not right now. Even the sapiens among Further Upwards’s board are powerful and influential. If one or more of them truly are compromised…”

“...than even the whiff of an investigation will have them burying any Coalition connection so deep we’ll never find it.” Savoy ran her fingers through her hair. “And you’re right. We can’t move against them. Not on this. It’s nowhere near enough.”

“Not even close,” Redmane confirmed. “Even the friendliest judge out there would never sign off on any warrant based on this. I technically could, under HSS’s in extremis clause, but that…” he shook his head. “That’s not a good idea. Not based on what we have there. Racomb is sure that there’s something to this, and agree. I wouldn’t have brought this to you if I didn’t. But…” he trailed off with a sigh of his own.

Savoy finished the thought for him. “…but there’s nothing we can prove.”

“We could make a case that someone in Further Upwards is using their position to feed information and real estate to the Coalition, but not enough to suggest the whole organization is compromised. For all we know, that’s exactly what we have: a rogue actor or a small cell within the company. Or it could be that this really is a Coalition op to make Further Upwards look like they’re complicit and get us to take them off the board.” He bit the inside of his lip.

“You don’t think so, though.”

“No, I don’t. I think someone – or more likely multiple someones – inside Further Upwards has been playing the long game. It would take a lot of time, effort and resources to pull this off. They’ve been running three-card for decades, moving properties around, taking them off the books and re-selling them to their own subsidiaries, claiming others are abandoned while keeping utilities running to them, having security on paper on old sites but none in reality. They’ve been the Coalition’s real estate broker in the Territories for God knows how long and I’d bet anything they’re doing it in the provinces that they’re branching out into. What we can prove, though…” Vincent gestured helplessly at the dossier in front of Alexandra.

“If take the shot and we miss… best case, we publicly embarrass ourselves by chasing data phantoms. Worst case… worst case, we’ve helped the Coalition bring down a powerful regime-loyal corporation. The knock-on effects will be severe. They’ll be severe no matter what, but exponentially worse if we’re wrong.”

Savoy’s fists tightened and she rubbed her left thumb over her clenched forefinger. “Fucking hell.” She got up and paced angrily. She’d known – suspected – that the Territories were compromised more than her administration had let on, but this was worse than she’d imagined. Lord Capricorn and Mendula had been so busy short-stroking themselves to smashing every visible hint of actual, potential or imagined rebellion that they’d completely missed a slow-growing cancer.The Coalition probably counted on that, letting those idiots pound sand in ratholes while they dug new tunnels. “Fucking hell,” she repeated. “They’ve had enough time to climb right up our assholes.”

“Exactly,” Redmane agreed. The metaphor was colourful, but apt. Further Upwards had tendrils in every strata of society here in the frontier. Whatever they needed, they could get and they had enough influence to keep things quiet. Dislodging this level of corruption wasn’t going to be quick or easy, or limited to just the company itself. “It’s not something we can solve with a drop strike.”

Alexandra stopped pacing and glared at the director for a moment, then nodded in acknowledgment of what he was telling her. Her side of counter-terrorism the point of the spear. Intelligence teams had to work cases for weeks, months, even years before they called on the Black Fridays. They’d been lucky with Operation Dustbunny. The rest of the insurgency wouldn’t be solved that easily. “I wish it was,” she confessed. “I wish I could just…” she trailed off, waving whatever else she’d been about to say away. “Things used to be easier.”

Vincent could agree with that. “But there’s a dangerous allure in that, isn’t there?” He’d learned that firsthand and was determined not to fall into that trap again.

The woman’s green eyes held his for a moment and she nodded. “I’m been meaning to ask,” Vincent continued. “It’s been a while since you arrived. How are you settling into your new role?”

She wasn’t fooled by the innocuous tone. “I’m not sure; how am I doing, director?”

“You could be doing better,” he told her. “It’s a good idea that you heeded your lieutenant governor’s advice.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Alexandra growled. She’d been pushing hard for several reforms. First and foremost among them was the reconstruction projects she’d rammed through. Her staff had helped her shape that into a general infrastructure improvement initiative, aimed primarily at the sapiens-only districts and suburbs, many of which had been so neglected by the previous regime that they qualified as slums. Impoverished and marginalized people were easy to radicalize; Savoy knew that. Not only from her study of centuries of military history, but from the Hegemony’s rise among the Third World. When you have nothing, being promised something becomes everything.She didn’t intend to have breeding grounds for insurrections festering in her territory and on principle alone, the condition of sapiens quarters here in Capricorn City and Garamond – and doubtlessly elsewhere – offended her. That wasn’t the Hegemony she remembered.

The former reason was an easy sell to her administration. The latter opinion she kept largely to herself. She’d been pushing for more; reduced restrictions on government services and support for sapiens in good social standing. Additional support to the reclamation teams. Tightening investigatory protocols for police as she was pushing with the local HSS branch. Most of these weren’t even her ideas. It had just been how things were during her day. When invictus had been envisioned as leaders, not rulers. Every day she had to fight with her own administration over what – to her – were obvious and simple things only made her disgust for this world deepen.

But they could say the same, couldn’t they? The way things were now were just as obvious and simple to them and her blowing into the region and demanding to turn back the clock a hundred years only made them resent her more. Things had been easier during the War; her people had taken her orders, just as she’d taken orders from higher up. They’d followed them to the best of their ability. None of her platoon had ever been insubordinate. They’d been united in purpose. It had only been sapiens – fractious auxiliaries and squabbling civilians – who’d ever resisted Hegemony orders as much as her cabinet of fellow invictus did.

It’s a pity I can’t have them flogged. Or shot.She never voiced that opinion aloud either. Her unit would have understood. They’d even made similar jokes back in the day. ‘Back in the day’. God, just thinking that makes me feel old. Except for a handful of pages, she was the youngest member of the entire gubernatorial staff. That just made her feel worse. She was supposed to be young, hot-blooded, hyper-aggressive and stupid and not feeling like the one-eyed woman. Darren would have called that arrogance. Sammael, prick that he was, would have done the same. Others did too, but not to her face.

That made her wonder.Was she doing the right thing? It felt like she was, but she was nearly a century out of time. As many of her peers pointed out, the world had changed. It wasn’t even close to what she’d lived in, or envisioned. Maybe the problem really was with her. Maybe the rest of the world actually was right. Am I just rolling a boulder uphill out of stubbornness and arrogance? It felt like it. She thought about Patricia a lot, left in a hospital bed to rot and only contacted when someone wanted an uplifting soundbite. Alexandra messaged her former corporal whenever she could, but Patricia was starting to fade. The last time they’d spoken, Jayne hadn’t even recognized her.

Once she was gone, Alexandra would be alone, just as much of a relic as Patricia herself. She’d never admitted it, but that frightened her. What would she be then? What am I now?

She’d had to make tradeoffs already. Compromises. The very notion rankled her. She hadn’t compromised with an entire planet that hated her and wanted her dead. She hadn’t compromised with Mendula or the other pissants she’d run roughshod over and she damn sure hadn’t compromised with the terrorists that had turned RAIC into a charnel house. Now she had to. Now she had to play a game that she didn’t fully understand, back off her principles to protect the fragile egos and sensibilities of people she despised.Pushing that boulder. “It feels like ceding ground.”

“In a way it is,” Redmane agreed. “But you know that there’s a difference between retreat and regrouping. For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right decision. Your reputation has gotten you as far as it’s going to.” He was learning to be more direct. Vipress appreciated plain speech. It was something of a relief that he didn’t have to beat around the bush or coach his language as he had with Mendula and Lord Capricorn. In fairness to his previous self, he’d still been in those mens’ shadows. Thrust into the leadership of HSS in the Territories, he had no choice but to do better than his predecessors or suffer the same ignominious fate. Maybe even a worse one than that.If the rebels were willing to attack Lady Vipress, they would attack anyone...

...and there was still a very large question of what Future Upwards had been doing during all its construction contracts.

“I know,” Savoy answered, blowing a forelock of blonde hair out of her face. “I have to give something to get something.” She’d eased off on her intent to re-engineer social services in the Territories as well as her plans to look more at the reclamation work teams in order to keep support for the infrastructure projects, focusing her energy on the biggest issues first. Sewell had probably been sleeping. Instead of putting out fires everywhere, he only had to deal with the pork-barrel bullshit and political blowback from one issue instead of a half-dozen. “I’m learning. Trying to, at least.”

“That’s good.” Vincent was quiet for a moment. “Whatever you think is going on in your administration, it’s probably deeper than you suspect.”

The woman raised her head. “What do you mean?”

“By its charter, HSS is forbidden to interfere in the internal political matters of the Hegemony,” Redmane cautioned. “But certain information still crosses our desks. In this instance, I am not speaking in any official capacity, just as a... concerned citizen exercising my duty to a civilian superior.”

Alexandra nodded in understanding.

“There have been... inquiries regarding removing a sitting governor. Legally,” he added carefully.

Savoy blinked slowly. “I see.” Vincent wasn’t sure if her expression was amusement, relief or irritation. It might have been all three. “Was there anything else?”

“Not at this time, madam governor.”

“Very well. Thank you for the update on the Red cell situation, director.”

He tipped his head towards her. “It was my pleasure.”

“I hate having to say this, but if you could ensure that this information remains compartmentalized, it would be appreciated.”

“Racomb and his unit are good at their jobs,” he assured her. “I vetted them personally for this assignment. They know what leakage will mean for their inquiries and they won’t breathe a word of it to anyone outside their division.” A wry smile touched the young man’s face. “This intelligence has also been deemed Most Secret by the director of Hegemony Security within the Minnesotan Territories and will only be parsed out on a need-to-know basis.” Despite the grin, he was deadly serious. Whoever was working against the Hegemony inside Further Upwards was either highly-placed, or had very high access. A word out of place and they’d go to ground. They had to do this slow, carefully... and correctly. “Currently, those who need to know are the investigative team themselves, the Director of Hegemony Security Services within the Minnesotan Territories and the Governor of said region.”

“And not the Special Investigator?”

Vincent kept his expression neutral. He’d been hoping that Lady Vipress wouldn’t ask him that directly. “The Special Investigator is exceptionally busy dealing with the remains of the Blue and Green cells and tracking down the Yellow cell,” Redmane pointed out. “I’m keeping tabs on his progress and if this line of inquiry becomes relevant to that work, the necessary parties will be informed.”

“Good. Thank you, direct-” The door chime sounded.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Minh’s voice came through the comm. “Mr. Dresden is here and he says it’s urgent.”

“Send him in, Sadako.”

The doors open and the head of Alexandra’s security detail entered.

Her secretary ushered the tall bodyguard into Savoy’s office, dipping her head respectfully to Alexandra and Vincent before withdrawing.“I’m sorry to bother you, madam governor. Director,” Dresden began. “But there’s a situation developing in the Windy Acres Housing Community.” That was one of the apartment blocks that had gotten hit particularly hard by New Broom. “Someone’s been killed.”

Alexandra and Vincent exchanged a glance. They wouldn’t have been interrupted for a run-of-the-mill murder. “What’s happened?” Alexandra asked Dresden as Vincent pulled out his phone and put a call through to his office. He got the answer before she did.

The young woman’s expression darkened as Vincent told her and when she spoke next, it was in a low, dangerous hiss. “Animals.”

~

Jess arrived with excellent news. “We have the venue!” she announced as she bounded into Verona’s office, a small study on the Vipress estate’s main floor that Verona had taken over.

“That’s great!” the familiar replied. “How did you do it? They’ve been going back and forth for a week now.”

“Oh,” Jess waved the question off with false modesty and plenty of pride. “I have my ways.”

One of the first things Verona came to realize was that planning and carrying out an art exhibit took more effort and experience than enthusiasm and she’d hired a small number of employees for assistance. Most of them were sapiens; surprising her, Henry Poswick had been extremely helpful and reached out to the few contacts he had that still returned his calls. Though no one knew quite what was going on, Verona had created some rumblings in the region’s art community, even receiving some feelers from more established artists across the continent. She was slightly surprised, but supposed that she shouldn’t be. Rumours ran rife through creative circles, and anything to do with Vipress was big news.

She had to carefully vet the ones that approached her; many of them she already knew from Garamond and they either gossiped too much or their work would be inappropriate for the show she was planning. Verona found herself not entirely prepared for that part of the job. Saying no was something she’d never been good at, nor was supposed to be. At least, not to the invictus.

Luckily, she had Jess. Jessica Kapfield was invictus herself; she was the youngest daughter from a small House here in the Territories; White Stag. They’d once been staunch allies of Capricorn, but the larger house’s fall from grace had splashed onto them. In their attempts to recover their lost standing, they’d been trying to ingratiate themselves to House Vipress, but Lady Savoy had little interest and even less time for inter-House politics. She’d either been blind to or ignored White Stag’s overtures. Verona had actually approached Jessica; the invictus was young – just two years younger than Alexandra – and she was described as ‘flighty’ with an attitude that didn’t mesh with the more serious affectations of the rest of her family.

She also had a passion for art, and a talent for sculpture that had never been properly nurtured. Even more important, despite her age, she had a number of connections within the more respectable spectrum of the region’s artistic community. Most of them were coat-tail chasers, hoping that by cozying up to the young invictus, they could win White Stag’s favour, just as White Stag themselves were attempting to get Vipress’s attention. Most important of all, Jessica didn’t seem to mind taking orders from a familiar. Verona had been worried about that; her initial discussions with the invictus had been to make sure that this would remain her project and not be taken over. It might take longer, but she could do this by herself and she would go back to doing it alone rather than be pushed aside.Fortunately, that hadn’t been necessary. Jess was very helpful, putting her knowledge at Verona’s disposal and the invictus would gladly handle the more confrontational parts of the job.

From what she’d learned, Jessica’s older siblings and parents were gritting their teeth over her working for a familiar, but Verona was widely-known to not only be Savoy’s favourite, but an informal advisor to Lady Vipress. If Alexandra wasn’t interested in their direct overtures, then White Stag would try a different approach. Jessica’s assistance was easy to acquire; her family didn’t approve of her preferred career, which only made the young woman more invested in it rather than the aerospace industry they’d tried to push her into.

Poswick had said that he’d reach out to friends and friends of friends to get the Kapfield’s youngest daughter an apprenticeship with a “real” sculptor and not a half-assed tutelage that Jessica’s parents had begrudgingly hired for her. Hearing that, Jessica had only been too happy to join Verona, both for the job itself and to rub her position in her family’s collective noses, reaching out to her own contacts for support.

Verona had had her eye on the Colstein Gallery. It wasn’t Capricorn City’s premier spot, but that was a point in its favour. Its showrooms would make for a smaller and more intimate offering, rather than something larger and ostentatious like the Atlas Theater. Even if she’d wanted something more grandiose, Verona didn’t think she was up for that challenge right now. She was working hard enough as it was. Lloyd Poswick had offered his assistance as well, letting his husband concentrate on the artistic side of things while he helped with the business end, free of charge.

The Poswicks, along with the other artists that Verona had commissioned, were still somewhat wary. She suspected that Lloyd was helping more to see if she had some kind of ulterior motive than just being supportive of Henry’s first paying client in months. As long as he didn’t cause problems, she was grateful for the help. She’d hired a few other sapiens; originally, her plan was to rely on them as little as possible, particularly after learning about Darren, but when she’d tried to explain her idea to her fellow familiars, their enthusiasm had waned and they’d become a lot more hesitant.

She understood. She was doing something new and it was very different from the current zeitgeist. She’d never imagined doing this – or even wanting to do it – before this past year. It wasn’t what a familiar should be doing, that’s what she’d been told by more than one person. It wasn’t proper. She might have agreed with them, but now… now it felt like it was. She’d never really understood the Final War, but neither had she really been that interested in it. It was something from the past, over and forgotten and only worth remembering for the new age it had ushered in. She’d been wrong about that. The past had come to life for her – figuratively and literally.

The history that that she’d learned about in school and the presentation she’d seen through the Hegemony’s media didn’t compare to what Alexandra had told her of that era. The harsh, ugly grinding reality of growing up as a living weapon. The valour and dedication of the Hegemony’s sapiens armies, the short candle-bright lives of the forerunners and the intractable determination of the Coalition as they fought the inevitable.

The real Coalition. Not the violent vermin that it was now, the kind that targeted innocent people, blew up buildings and killed civilians in the streets. The ones that had fought – however wrongheaded they’d been – with honest and sincere belief in their cause and not ugly, murderous spite. Alexandra had refused to let them destroy her people, but she’d respected that Coalition and its people. The ones like Darren.

Verona physically shook her head to clear the distracting thoughts from it. “Thank you,” she said to Jess. “You’ve been a tremendous help. I wouldn’t have made half as much progress as I have without you.”

The younger woman nodded, circling around Verona’s desk to look at what the familiar was doing. “You’re welcome.” As she spoke, she nonchalantly lifted a lock of the familiar’s hair and sniffed it, enjoying the other woman’s perfume. “How are you doing with the artists? I’ve been hearing a lot of buzzing in the community.”

“It’s going well,” Verona affirmed, unsettled by Jess’s action and trying not to show it. “As well as I can hope, at any rate.” She didn’t know why; in the Atlas Theater, it had been her job to please the guests and attendees. She’d enjoyed it and taken pride in her standing as one of the most-requested companions, and the attention it brought. She’d been pleased to serve so well, but now…

...now she wanted… she didn’t know how to put it into words, but she only wanted Alexandra like that. It wasn’t just because she was Savoy’s favourite. It was… she wanted more choice over what she could do, like she had now. Like Alexandra had shown her that she could have.

The younger invictus didn’t mean any harm. Her attentions weren’t serious; at best, it was gauche to take a familiar that another invictus was with. To do it with the favourite of someone of a higher-status was a serious faux pas. Jess herself had a boyfriend that she was quite happy with. She was just enjoying Verona’s presence and crossing a boundary that she didn’t know was there, nor had any reason to think might exist.

Jess reached around Verona to shuffle through the papers and files on her desk. The familiar gently nudged the other woman back. Just like moments before, the invictus didn’t even seem to notice what she was doing. A year ago, Verona wouldn’t have, either.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Jess said, picking up one of the concept images. She’d never voiced it, but Verona wondered if the other woman believed this was Savoy’s project and Verona was just carrying out her orders. Maybe that was why she didn’t fuss about working on a familiar’s flight of fancy. Or maybe Verona was reading too much into it. “Some of these preliminaries… they’re kind of provocative, don’t you think?”

“They are,” Verona agreed. A lot of the artists that she’d reached out to were pushing the envelope up to and beyond what the familiar was comfortable with. She didn’t want to go as far as some of them apparently did. At least the ones that had gotten back to her. A lot of the artists she’d contacted had declined the opportunity. Most were polite about it. A few weren’t. This sudden attention made them afraid that this was some kind of honeypot to get them to expose their – actual or alleged – seditious opinions. “I’m going to talk to Lloyd this afternoon and reach out to some of the others. I want to get through to them that this is not a chance to-” she caught herself before bare their asses escaped her lips. That was the kind of thing Alexandra would say.

“-comment on the current status or policies of the Hegemony,” she said instead. “This is supposed to be a retrospective on the Final War, not a soapbox for grievances.” She sniffed a little in distaste. Even though she’d been as clear as she could be, some people insisted on making everything about themselves and their own opinions on a work of art. Verona’s project wasn’t for any of them. It was hers.

Jessica nodded. “You really take this stuff seriously.”

“I do. It’s important.” How can we go forward if we’ve forgotten where we came from?That was a thought she’d never dared think before – nor even realized it was possible to consider it. “A lot of people talk about the war and the cost of it, but we don’t show that enough. We have platitudes and…”sanitized histories that don’t measure up to the truth. “We need to remember it the way it was, even if it’s not what we want to see.”

The invictus nodded. Verona didn’t know if that was agreement or she was being humoured. “Have you heard back from Ransom?”

“I have, yes.” Verona told the younger woman. Meredith had only been too happy to be involved. She was disappointed that the showing would be in Capricorn City and not Garamond, but she’d still pledged to create something “thematic” for the event, a short original work alongside a local presentation of The Red Letter. She’d offered a few recommendations of people to contact as well – provocateurs like her. Unlike Jess, the playwright hadn’t tried to hide that she thought this was coming from Lady Vipress. “She’s in.”

Jess actually hopped in excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Paul. ‘Bunch of no-names’ my ass. I’m going to rub that right in his smug face-” She quickly caught herself. “-once we can make the official announcement.” Jess’s parents seemed to have infinite patience for their prodigal daughter, but her oldest brother was more direct in his criticisms, which only motivated her further.

The invictus calmed for a moment, looking down at Verona with a more serious expression. “You know there’ll be blowback on this. Even if you get some of these…” her mouth twisted as she looked over some more concept art and correspondence, “...people to tone it down, that’s still a lot of names that have been traditionally blacklisted from the art community. Some of them for good reason.”

Verona nodded. It wasn’t the first time Jess had expressed that concern, and she’d heard it from plenty of others. She often had doubts herself, but Alexandra supported her. Even if no one else cared or understood, that would be enough for the familiar. “I know. But this is something I think we should do. I don’t think we’ll be able to keep everyone, even if we could afford it. We can prune out the more problematic aspirants that way.”

“Mmm,” the invictus murmured. “I’m with you, but I’m just saying there are a lot names here that I wouldn’t normally think of commissioning a gas station wall mural, let along something for House Vipress. George Yung had to leave China just to find any work at all after that tribunal and you know it’s only his patron’s connections that let him squeak out of that situation without being arrested.” Jessica looked at Yung’s submission. “Still can’t believe you got him on board.”

“He’s… difficult,” Verona admitted. Yung was a paranoid recluse. Perhaps even clinically bipolar, with the way he responded to Verona’s messages. Some days he was so vitriolic in his enthusiasm that she thought she might have to cut him loose and others, he was convinced that this was all a plot to get him to produce more art so that he could be arrested again and vowed to cut communications, telling Verona not to message him. Some of the other names in her contact list were equally as troublesome. “But we’ll see how things go.”

“I guess that’s as good as we can get,” Jess agreed. She put the papers back down. “I sent you all the info on the Colstein booking. I had to make a couple extra promises – nothing major – and they’ll be expecting to hear from you to confirm things.”

Verona smiled. Even if she was a little too familiar for Verona’s newfound tastes, Jess had been consistent in making sure everyone knew that Verona was running this show. Possibly so that everyone knew who to blame if and when that blowback arrived, but Verona appreciated it nonetheless. This was her project. Her idea, her push to see it through. She was going to be at the helm, Hell or high water. No invictus to shield her from the consequences or take over for her like a parent with a child. Her. Just her.

She felt proud of that, more proud than she could remember. Maybe even prouder than when Alexandra had picked her from all the girls in the theater to accompany her to the Territories. “I’ll get in touch with them right after lunch,” she decided. “Then I’ll start checking in with the confirmed artists and see if we can get some more on board.” Even with Ransom, if they couldn’t get more people to sign on, it was going to be a very small showing.

“I’ll give Lloyd a heads-ups that you’ll be looking for him,” Jess promised. Lloyd Poswick didn’t like her. He didn’t like any invictus being associated with the project, but unless he and his husband could conjure up Jess’s connections and work ethic themselves, she was staying. For her part, if the invictus even noticed Lloyd’s uneasiness, she didn’t care. She respected familiars, but sapiens were like outdated computers to her. Sputtering, slow and annoying. Something that you just had to put up with until it was replaced with a superior version.

“Thank you, Jess.”

“Okay, I’m going to grab some lunch and then I’ll run down those other things we talked about. I’ll let you handle your stuff. Call me if you need me.”

“I will, thank you.”

“I have a good feeling about this,” Jess promised. “We’re picking up steam now.”

“I hope so.”

“I know it,” the invictus said with a smile. “It’ll happen. You’re doing so much and so well.” She reached over and ruffled Verona’s hair, like an adult encouraging a child... or as if she were rewarding someone else’s pet. Jess didn’t mean any harm, though. She was just invictus, acting how she always had.

~

They found the body the next morning, hung from the barbed-wire fence around the construction site, several papers stapled to his chest.

From her vantage point, Kesha looked safely down on the gathered onlookers and the flashing blue lights of police cars and drones and smiled. There’d be an investigation, but they wouldn’t find anything. She’d already taken care of all that.

The victim’s name was Brian Briars, or ‘BB’ to the locals. He was one of the survivors of New Broom and he’d been with Green for three years. She knew as much about him as she did any of her people. He lived in one of Windy Acres’ other tenements; she could see his apartment window from her own. He owned a pair of gerbils that he’d been teaching to do tricks. And for all that, she hadn’t thought twice about killing him.

She’d believed that Brian was a good man, loyal and dedicated, but she’d been wrong. He’d been weak. He’d seen all the death and destruction the Victors caused, the dozens of good men and women – fighters and innocents alike – who’d gotten caught up in New Broom. He’d seen his own cell bled dry, with its leader forced into deeper hiding. He’d grown up with the Victors’ hand around his throat just like every other sapiens. He’d known they’d have been happy to get rid of Homo sapiens entirely if it wouldn’t kick off another war. All their bribes, all their mealy-mouthed platitudes and simpering, bleeding-heart speeches were just to keep the cattle pacified on their way to the slaughterhouse. He’d known all of that, and he’d still…

There’d been an article in the community newspaper. An op-ed postulating that the bitch who’d killed Blue and wiped out her cell might not be as bad as everyone thought. It talked about how she’d ended Capricorn’s spectacles, her actions at the RAIC, the difference between her methodologies and Capricorn’s, and opined – as much as any public news source would allow – on rumoured divisions between the governor’s offices and the Special Investigator’s. It was signed ‘Pondering in the Projects’ and it had been submitted to the paper from a forged identity, but as soon as Kesha saw the op-ed, she knew Briars was behind it.

Yes, she knew BB well. Enough to be familiar with his personal lexicon. In that op-ed, a phrase he liked to use had come up. ‘Like shaking a box of snakes’. She’d never heard anyone other than him use it, but it wasn’t impossible that someone else did. It was him, though. She knew it.

Brian had been less vitriolic over the last few weeks. At first, she hadn’t thought anything of it – they were trying to rebuild Green, but they also had to keep their heads down. Hiss-men were still out in force, combing through the city for any trace of the remaining Coalition fighters. Kesha herself hadn’t been making any big moves, but she’d noticed something in BB. The same maybe she’d seen in others, the exact same one that her parents had given into. Maybe this one is different. Maybe it will be different. Maybe things will be different. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Fuck ‘maybe’. Fuck the Victors, the Vickies, the familiars and every benedict who tongue-polished their boots. Who the fuck went maybe after watching that bitch slaughter dozens of people? Who the fuck did that after living in the fucking world she made? Cowards and traitors. Poison apples that would infect others with their rhetoric and set back everything the Coalition was doing, everything so many of them had already died fighting for.

She’d told herself that it was just because of their circumstances. It was natural to feel a little demoralized at a time like this, but they’d bounce back. So she hadn’t pushed when she should have. That was her fault. She hadn’t listened to her instincts. She thought she could trust Brian, telling herself that whatever was going on with him wasn’t as bad as she imagined, that she was just being pessimistic.

She’d been wrong.

Someone she thought she could count on, someone she’d seen as a close ally had pulled that shit, wheedling and whining about maybe. He might as well have gone onto his knees in front of the nearest victor and opened his mouth if he wanted to taste that dick so badly.

Kesha had known what Brian had done in her gut, but she hadn’t had any proof. At least not at first. The Coalition always aimed for a higher standard than the Hegemony. You couldn’t execute someone on maybe. You needed evidence for that, solid facts. Kesha had set in Jackie, another subordinate. Jackie’s little sister had caught the eye of a bigshot benedict from Garamond when he’d come slumming to the Territories some years back. He’d left with her, and Jackie never saw her sister again. Eleven months after she’d been ‘hired’, she’d jumped off the benedict’s penthouse balcony.

No, she didn’t have to worry about maybe with Jackie. The woman had only been too eager to ferret out a sapiens traitor. She’d gone to see BB with a six-pack and a smile. After she’d worn him out, she’d opened up his computer and given Kesha remote access. Brian hadn’t been dumb enough to leave any incriminating documents on his drive, but Kesha was better at recovering files than he was at deleting them. She’d found his draft of the op-ed.

They’d brought him down to the sub-basement. The custodian would clean up after they were done. He was a newly-made friend, a man who’d just tried to keep his head down and mind his business until Operation New Broom brought down part of a store onto his son. They’d only just managed to dig the child’s body out of the rubble. The more you tighten your grip, the more enemies you make.

Kesha’s friend Alisandre, and the owner of her apartment, was up in the security room. The security guard on duty liked Alisandre, and she’d worked out an arrangement with him. He’d do favours for her or look the other way when she needed it, and she gave him special considerations.

Last night’s favour had been a big one, but Alisandre had shown up at the security office with a pizza and a surplus of enthusiasm. That gave the rest of Kesha’s people the freedom they needed to bring Brian down to the sub-basement while avoiding the cameras. Alisandre would handle the feeds they couldn’t avoid; Orange was better at this than Green had ever been was, but she knew a few tricks of her own.

Kesha had given Alisandre a flash drive with mood music for her rendezvous. All she had to do was get it into the main security console and distract the guard while the trojan horse on the drive did its work. It would open a backdoor into the apartment’s security network that Kesha could use; she’d already over-written BB’s last walk, adjusting timestamps and metadata to make it look like he left the building hours before Kesha and her people had come for him.

Credit to the man for something: he hadn’t insulted Green by playing dumb. He knew what was going on and why it was happening. He’d tried to argue with her, but she didn’t want to hear anything he said. A quick nod to one of her people and a punch to the throat had silenced Brian. There’d only been one knife. That was something that Kesha had insisted on. Everyone took part, new friends and old. Everyone took a turn driving the blade into Brian’s body. That bound them all together. No one got to sit back and say they hadn’t done anything. They were all in this together, and now they all knew the penalty for betrayal.

Jackie had gone first, smiling vindictively as she’d cut BB. Kesha had gone last, putting a hand over Brian’s mouth as she slowly pushed the knife through his ribs and into his heart. “Sic,”she’d hissed at him as the light in his eyes dimmed and went out. “Semper proditores, you fucking benedict.”

They’d mounted the body on the fence around the construction zone, printing his article out and stapling it to his chest. Kesha didn’t want there to be any doubt about why they’d killed him. No more maybes. No more compromises. She was going to fight until she won, or they killed her and she’d make sure everyone with her did the same. Anything else was treason, and how did traitors die?

Just like that, she thought with a satisfied grin as she looked seventeen stories down onto the milling crowds surrounding her handiwork.

Just like that.