Author Note: Yeah, I know last chapter was a little rough, like I said, it wasn't flowing like some chapters do, where they just pop out of my fingers fully formed and ready. And though I appreciate the cautionary remarks about making Kira too powerful, come on people, its me. Since when have I ever let a single person become too powerful, other than as needed for the purposes of the plot, as per a villian? And even then, they obviously weren't TOO powerful cause they end up defeated. He's the only Awakened UC around in the current plot, besides Frost, and I'm not sure if he counts as seperate or not, just think of what things are going to be like in another few decades, when pretty much the entire adult population of New Eden has access to the same level of Seed? Well assuming the USN doesn't wipe em all out before that, of course.
I understand how events in Busytown played out made the USN soldiers look like monsters (though in truth it was the RI forces doing most of the terrible things, the USN soldiers merely stood by), but you will get their side of the story in the chapter after this one, so hold off any permanent judgements until then please. As fair warning, there's some fairly despicable events that occur in this chapter, probably deserving of a Mature warning label for Adult situations, though not because of gore or violence or traditional horror. Another lemonish scene involving Natalia and Rey, lets leave it at that for spoiler purposes, and a little bit of the scene with Djibril, Yuna and Hazy. The chapters of this arc are going to be Flawed Tools, Abundant Resources, Savage Tribes, Hardy Settlers, Fearless Soldiers, Flawless Weapons and Peerless Killers. By the end of this arc the war will be in full swing and most of the character relationships will be firming up. Including the one I've been waiting to write since just before RW was laid out. But the details await in the chapters.
Oh yeah, and hooray for getting 384 reviews... I'm past the mark of Chaotic Cosmos and I'm only at 1/3 the length and more like 1/4 the chapters. Keep on at this pace and I will get my goal of 1000+ reviews for RW. You people are awesome.
xxxx
Luna, Copernicus Lunar City, Upper Class district 7, November 14th
Lord Atticus Djibril told his driver to wait at the curb, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he considered how the mighty had fallen. At one point in his life, he was the sort of man who didn't need a driver or a private limo, simply because he was so important everyone came to see him, rather than the other way around. In addition to his commercial ownings, he'd been the hereditary heir to vast tracts of land in northern Eurasia, a scion of a line that stretched back for hundreds of generations to the very earliest kings of Germania and Russia, his title actually that of Duke, though so many people called him "milord" he'd just taken to be called "Lord Djibril". But that was in the past, and though he did own extensive Lunar estates and many firms private and public today, it was but a tiny fraction of the economic and political power he'd formerly wielded. He was now a Lord in name only, his traditional fief so much pestilential jungle along with the majority of Earth's land surface. And he was forced to contract a limosuine and driver to deliver him to meetings when his so called superiors ordered, or in this case, even to visit his own top subordinates!
As was his purpose on this evening, checking in with the two most famous figureheads of the Reclaimer Initiative organization he'd been allowed... and that was the thing that truly rankled... control of by Durandel. At one point in time Djibril had been the controlling force behind the secret society Logos, which had counted Blue Cosmos as just one arm of its operations before that organization broke away under the leadership of Cervantes Zunnichi. There was little he did not know about recruiting, funding and organizing secret terrorist organizations to act as scapegoats for legitimate political and economic concerns, but instead of recreating his own group, he'd been handed a nascent group by Durandel and told to make something of it, as if he couldn't even be trusted to do it right unless a seed was already in place! Though perhaps he could see Durandel's point, that Djibril couldn't be trusted with his own organization, because he would inevitably turn it against Durandel as soon as the time became ripe. Of course he would do so anyway, but he'd first have to ferret out all of Durandel's spies and loyalists in the RI before he felt secure enough in his power to attempt a coup. And in the meanwhile provide Durandel with good, competent service for who knew how long! It was the ultimate humilation!
At least he was fairly sure that there were no Durandel loyalists among his figureheads, since he highly doubted either of them had the dissembling skill to mask any subversive intentions from him. Truth be told, other than public popularity, they had few talents worth his time and effort, and were more like anchors than anything else! A less creative and determined man than himself might have given up in hopelessness at being handed two lieutenants like Yuna Roma Seiran and Arnold Zala, but Djibril was sadly used to dealing with an inferior quality of subordinate and getting the most out of them, more than even they themselves would expect in their wildest dreams. As Djibril took the elevator to the penthouse suits of this particular residential building, he carefully banished any expressions of anger or frustration from his face, his purplish lips pursed tightly, his eyes lidded and glaring from his pale face, framed by prematurely grey hair, expensively styled as always.
The pallor of his lips and skin, as well as the greying of his hair, were all legacies of rare genetic conditions he had been born with, as well a other, less visible effects, such as a predisposition towards hemophilia and anoxia because of how thin his blood was and how inefficient at holding oxygen, and even a degree of impotence. Djibril didn't see his conditions as handicaps, indeed as the foremost Natural supremacist leader currently alive, he was extremely proud of his flawed, entirely natural genetics. Even without the "superior" genetics of Coordinators, he had become one of the most powerful and successful men ever to live! He was unique and special in ways that no Coordinator could ever be, by their very nature! And he didn't even mind the impotence all that much, sex was an unnecessary diversion from his goals, and he was glad of a reason to ignore the charms of other men and women. Were he ever to desire progeny, he would go the path of his father's good friend, Albert la Flaga, and get himself cloned.
The weakness of his constitution also gave him strong reason to avoid most other distracting sins of the flesh, such as alcohol and drugs, save for the occasional social drink as demanded for a man of his station at social or business events. His one indulgence in an otherwise spartan existence was his cat, Joseph, named for one of his young idols, the historical figure of Joseph Stalin, who had guided Russia through one of its most trying times, during the second world war of the 20th century AD, and had also pioneered in the field of racial cleansing. Strong leadership and a determination for puriety of genetics, two things young Atticus had definitely felt strongly about. Joseph was slightly more sedentary than his namesake, though he was no less efficient when it came to exterminating vermin with extreme prejudice. Alas he had left him in the car, because getting the smell of his subordinates living arrangements out of Joseph's fur took hours, and he did so hate to give his precious a bath other than the regularly scheduled times.
The familiar stench of expensive alcohol, high end social drugs and unwashed people hit Djibril's sensitive nostrils almost as soon as the elevator doors opened, shortly after his ears were practically pinned back by the roaring sonic blast of speakers playing some trashy sort of modern club music at a volume fit to drown out a full scale shooting war. It was so loud he could feel his organs vibrating in his chest, and he absolutely failed to see how anyone could derive enjoyment from proximity to such a racket. Perhaps that was why they consumed such exoiberant quantites of alchohol and spoporific drugs, so much so that there was a palpable haze in the air from all the half extinguished paraphenilia scattered around the foyer he walked into, laying where they had been dropped by insensate partiers of either and sometimes indeterminate sex, most wearing little more than undergarments, if even that much! His eyes watering and his head spinning a bit just from the fumes, Djibril extracted a scented pompadure from his suit pocket, prepared for just this reason, and inhaled the herbal infusions it was soaked with by pressing it to his mouth and nose, to spare himself second hand intoxication merely from the atmosphere of the residence!
Stepping carefully across the human minefield lying across the floor of the foyer, more because he was disdainful of dirtying his shoes by touching them to the exhausted partiers than because he was afraid to hurt them by treading atop them, Djibril was almost knocked from his feet when a girl wearing nothing more than a pair of lace panties, and those pulled down round her knees, came charging out of the hallway he was aiming for and slammed into him, laughing drunkenly, her eyes vapid and dull with intoxication. Apparently the abrupt contact was too much for what sense of balance she had remaining, and she capsized in almost spectacular fashion and lay giggling and twitching on the floor in the throes of some artificial ecstacy of some sort, the imprint of her sweaty, sticky body fouling the front of his suit. If thoughts could kill, she would already be drowning in her own blood, as Djibril stared down at the stains on his suit, some of which looked suspiciously like those of sexual fluids. Gritting his teeth behind pursed lips, Djibril ventured onwards, vowing that this, and all other humiliations, would eventually be repaid, tenfold or more!
The further he pressed into the penthouse suites, the more active and lively the people he encountered were, though even the most friendly and intoxicated partier gave him a wide berth, the set of his jaw and the blazing in his eyes, not to mention his totally uncool formal suit giving the impression that this was a man just waiting for an excuse to order something horrible to happen to you. He looked neither left nor right as he made a beeline towards a sort of stage or raised dias that had been erected out of couches and cushions and even a few bed matresses in the center of one of the largest rooms, a portable automatic DJ set up nearby. Cavorting upon the mass of cushions were the two men he'd come to see, along with a harem of nubile young men and women, none older than their later teens, and none wearing a single stitch of clothing. His associates sexual tastes were... less than discerning, perhaps as a result of their time steeped in the debauchery of the professional pornographic industry, perhaps merely because they were higher than kites attached to fighter jets on low orbital patrol!
Sitting slightly lower down on the pile, his blond and purple-blue streaked hair unbound from its usual ponytail, his emerald green eyes glazed with satisfaction as his head lolled limply on his shoulders as two young women who could have easily been supermodels performed graphically obscene acts upon his lower body with a focus usually reserved for an artist creating a masterpiece was Arnold "Hazy" Zala. If there was a single Corodinator that exemplified everything Djibril saw as wrong about Coordinators, Hazy was probably that person. Born into the incredibly wealthy and powerful Zala family, a cousin of the infamous Athrun Zala, Arnold had been gifted with the world on a silver platter if he would only but apply himself slightly. But even that much effort was too much for the young Arnold, and he had devolved into a lifestyle of impersonating his famous cousin in order to have sex with overenthusiastic, stupid girls, and supported himself off their unthinking gifts. Athrun's public marriage to Queen Cagalli Yula Attha of Orb had eventually put an end to that particular cash cow, and Arnold had been out on his ear.
Instead of applying his superior genetic gifts towards succeeding in any of a dozen family ventures he was offered control of, he instead ran away from all responsibility and joined a gang of lowlifes, eventually becoming a drug runner of some minor renown. An accidental contract with agents of the Brotherhood of Man, Noah Borander's apocalyptic cult got Hazy in over his head, and the subsequent death of his girlfriend, a Lacus Clyne impersonator named Meer Campbell, at Noah's hands and his attempt at taking revenge, only ended up destroying the illicit life he had built and all but alienating himself from his family. Finally at the dregs of his existence, Hazy had used some family contacts, from those few members of his family who would have anything at all to do with him, and entered the film business, where he proved surprisingly popular, perhaps gifted at acting after a lifetime of pretending to be someone other than himself, and rapidly managed to reverse his fortunes, even to the point where he was largely able to bury his past and earned a name for himself in popular filmmaking that translated into widespread popularity among the younger generations of the PLANTS. Hazy was Djibril's link to the hearts and minds of the young Coordinators of the RI.
Slightly higher up upon the mound of cushions was Yuna Roma Seiran, ex-prince of Orb's royal Seiran family, son of Unato Seiran, one of Djibril's few good friends of Orbite descent. As far as Djibril could tell at a quick glance... and a quick glance was all he was willing to risk... Yuna was buggering a young man in the butt, or at least he assumed it was a man, from what little he could discern of the person Yuna was draped across, while two more young ladies of questionable repute draped themselves across his back and caressed his shoulders. At one point in time, Djibril had strongly been considering a partnership with the Seiran family in pursuit of taking over Orb and making it a puppet state of Logos, with Yuna slated to marry the young and impressionable Cagalli Yula Attha to cement his rulership of the country. The conclusion of the first Valentine War and many of the events of the second nixed that plan quickly enough, and the marriage of Athrun and Cagalli obviously ended any opportunity for a dynasty change in the Seiran's favor.
Then had come the events of the Eden Disaster, when the Brotherhood of Man had launched a sneak attack upon Orb's parliament while in session. Instead of accomplishing anything truly worthwhile, such as killing Cagalli or Athrun despite having the power to do so, the terrorists had instead tortured Unato to death in front of his political rival, Queen Zala-Attha, in a fruitless attempt to garner concessions. Yuna had also been present during the messy death of his father, and something in him had snapped that day. The Seiran family had always been pro-natural in its leanings, otherwise Djibril never would have considered befriending them, but Yuna's hatred for all things Edenite was something special. Leaving Orb in a traumatized haze, abdicating from his position as heir to the decimated Seiran family, Yuna had eventually found himself in the adult film business as well, which he had then parelyed in a few bit roles in low grade action films, before he hit major success with the "Roman Gladiator" line of pulp action films, starring as "The Roman" and becoming an almost household name for an over the top, martial artsy style vengeful hero. "The Roman" jokes were immensely popular on the nets, where they bragged about how his punch could kill even the strongest Gundams from sheer fear and other inane things. Yuna was Hazy's counterpart, but for Naturals obviously.
And Djibril loathed them both with a passion fit to serve as a power source for a modern war machine if it could only be technologically harnessed, but though immensely flawed, they were his primary tools for recruitment and inspiration of the mass portion of the Reclaimer Iniative, so he was stuck with them. But though he was stuck with them, did not mean he was obliged to tolerate their excesses any more than absolutely necessary, and Djibril had just about reached his utmost limit. The final straw came when Hazy blinked his glazed eyes at him as if noticing him for the first time, and lifted a vapid hand in what could have been a wave or a twitch, and was more likely the latter, considering the stimulation the mouths of his concubines were treating him to. "Aaaaaay, 's Atti... howwzzzit goin, Atti? You havin a good 'ime? I'm so fuking 'appy rih now... I lov u man..."
Djibril didn't bother replying to the wasted blandishment, he just took his cellphone from his pocket and accessed Namara, the USN's AI utility system. A few submenus later and the power to the entire penthouse was cut off, killing the music, the flashing lights, even the air conditioning, before emergency lights were allowed to come back on, casting everything in a ruddy light. "The party is over." Djibril said into the sudden, shocked silence. He pointed an imperious finger at his two addled lieutenants. "Get rid of your harem, get dressed, and get downstairs to my car in the next ten minutes, or I'll send in the police to drag net this place. I wonder how long it would take for ID verification to turn up someone underage, do you think? That sort of scandal tends to be bad for one's career, don't you think?" and then he turned around and stalked out, glad for the near darkness because he wasn't sure how much more debauchery his senses could take before he vomited his prawns and caviar dinner all over the floor, not that anyone would notice considering the filth they were lying in already!
It was closer to fifteen or twenty minutes before the two young movie stars shambled up to his limosine, more or less dressed properly but looking decidedly queasy and befuddled all the same. Djibril met them outside the car, not wanting to subject Joseph to their ilk until they were more presentable. The police threat had been something of a bluff, since any negative publicity for the two young men would also reflect upon the RI, and he could not have that, but he'd bet that they were too screwed up and high to realize that, and he'd been right. Djibril opened a case that he'd retrieved from the limo and extended it to his sorry looking subordinates. Inside the case were a pair of hypodermic needles containing a medicinal substance that purged the body of over ninety eight percent of all foreign drug contaminants, including alcohol and most forms of recreational drugs. Violently purged. They each took one hypodermic and looked at the milky fluid inside with sickly eyes, as Djibril stepped back out of range and pointed them fiercely towards the garden area by the side of the building. They reluctantly disappeared into the bushes and shortly afterwards Djibril smirked in vindication at the retching and cursing and coughing that resulted as the anti-drug did its messy business over the course of the next half hour.
While waiting, Djibril took two more cases from the trunk fo the car and kicked them into the bushes, the cases holding towels and clean suits for his purged subordinates to garb themselves in, the anti-drug's effects having almost certainly ruined whatever outfits they had shrugged into in order to get downstairs without charges of public indecency. Finally, more than an hour after his limo had first pulled up to the front entrance of the residence block, Hazy and Yuna stumbled out of the bushes, looking haggard and slightly withered, their new clothes hanging uncomfortably from their frames, but their eyes were clear and cowed submissively as Djibril opened one of the limo doors and beckoned them to enter, before following with a final sniff of disdain, and signaling for his driver to take them to their destination. Djibril got himself settled across from his two subordinates, and met their sullen gaze with his own cold one.
"Why you gotta go and kill our buzz like that?" Hazy growled in high distemper. "Just cause you're a eun..." Hazy's brain seemed to catch up to his mouth at last and his jaw snapped shut like a trap, knowing that antagonizing his employer even more than he already unintentionally had that night. People who irritated Atticus Djibril too much tended to disappear. Lots of burial space out at those Lunar estates, lots of need for fresh fertilizer. "You told us we had the weekend off." He complained in a more meek tone.
"Plans change." Djibril said without sympathy. "And in case you somehow hadn't noticed, the USN has declared war as of a few days ago, and the Reclaimer Iniative is PART of the war effort! Which modifies your recent conduct from merely dereliction to actual dereliction of duty in time of warfare! Do either of you know what sort of punishment one gets for that sort of thing? Of course you don't, you're just a pair of drug addled lowlifes! Its DEATH, you morons! DEATH! And God help me, I am of a mind to administer it! It could only improve the organization!" Djibril leaned back in his chair with a wounded sigh. "But I won't, because there is still a slim chance you could be worth something to me."
"What do you need us to do?" Yuna asked, almost eagerly. Yuna was the less contemptible of the two, at least he possessed some degree of fire, when it wasn't quenched in a drug and sex fueled self destructive orgy. Yuna at least had hate, Hazy just had apathy and the verminlike desire not to be crushed by those stronger than him.
"As the public face of our organization to the younger generations, which are the primary constituents of the USN military, it has been deemed only right and proper for you to boost morale by accepting positions of responsibility within the reclamation forces, share some of the danger. Now I understand neither of you is any sort of soldier, and that trying to make you one would be purest folly, but there are ways you can serve the cause that have nothing to do with fighting." Djibril began.
"I know how to defend myself just fine." Yuna countered in an offended tone, holding up one of his fists in a classic pose from his movies.
Djibril just looked at him pityingly. "You know how to defend yourself from ACTORS, Yuna, thats not going to cut it on Earth. Things are a little more serious there." Djibril shook his head in mild exasperation. "Look, this is what you will do. You will each be taking over the administration of a re-education center for the captured civilian Eddies. That may sound like hard work, but all you ACTUALLY need to do is rubber stamp your names on various documents when asked to do so, and appear in the occasional propaganda video in a mildly presentable manner! Other than that, I don't give a Coordinator's ass WHAT either of you do. In fact, I'm frankly hoping the pestiliential wildlife kills you BOTH in a HORRIBLE and PROLONGED manner as quickly as possible."
"Hey, I'm a Coordinator!" Hazy blurted resentfully.
"Yes you are, and if there was ever anyone LESS deserving of genetic "superiority" than you, I believe the entire project would have been scrapped already!" Djibril had to take several deep breaths to still his near homicidal rage.
"You're saying we have free reign to run the re-education centers?" Yuna asked, his quiet, contemplative question making the hairs on Djibril's neck stand up, though with trepidation or a rare hint of anticipation, he could not say. "We can make whatever rules we want?"
"Well, I would prefer you not turn them into death camps JUST yet, but as long as the numbers add up and we have the occasional video of how happy and content the Eddies are at the camps, I will stress once more... I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO! Maintain a public facade, which is one of the few things you both can do for a fact, and be ready to give a guided tour to whatever public inspectors Durandel decides to send our way without implicating yourselves or more importantly the rest of the Reclaimer Initiative in war crimes, at any given moment, and you will be doing ALL I could ask of you and more."
"You know, I think I might be able to get behind this gig, actually." Hazy said, an odd light in his eye that Djibril frantically did not wish to know the meaning of.
"Yeah, this could be a LOT of fun." Yuna agreed, and the look in his eyes would have made a lesser man ill. "When do we start?"
"Right now." Djibril gave them both a superior smirk. "Your shuttle will launch as soon as you board. For the Reclamation of our Blue and Pure World, gentlemen."
xxxx
Second Earth Colony 4, FEAR Headquarters, November 14th
Lain was getting real tired of this black bag treatment that he'd been getting recently. First the Retributors had put him through the wringer, though that had actually ended up with rather surprising results at the end of the day, and then shortly after being picked up floating in the ruins of the battlefield by his own damned side, something he wasn't sure how Ashino had managed to arrange so smoothly, they'd once more made with the sack cloth over his head and the handcuffs and the none too gentle dragging and shoving from place to place. He'd told the story he and Stella had concocted a half dozen times, about how they'd both been forced to eject from their machines during the battle and had been unable to send a distress signal due to fear of being picked up by enemy forces, but whether or not they believed him, Lain couldn't tell. given that he was spending most of his time on the cold floor of one cell after another, he was starting to get the feeling that someone on his own side might have it in for him or something. Yeah, right, like that would ever happen... NOT! He just wondered why Rey wasn't there to kick him in the balls personally.
Plopped down in another hard metal chair, his wrists cuffed to the back of the chair, the black bag was once more torn off of Lain's head, the grabbing hand not being too careful to avoid grabbing a fistful of black hair as well, and Lain winced as his scalp screamed at the inhumanity of it all, his eyes watering for a moment and blurring his vision as he looked around the interrogation room and found it strangely deserted. Having played this game too many times in the recent past to be impressed with such basic tactics, Lain sighed loudly and slouched in his chair as much as possible to try and get comfortable, closing his eyes as he pretended to try to take a nap while he waited for the hidden interrogator or guard to step forward to give him a rude awakening. The sound of a heavy stride from nearby had his eyes snapped open at once, his chest and stomach muscles tensed as he waited for a body blow that never landed.
And probably a good thing too, because the guy standing over him was none other than Mechael Smith, the Augmented supersoldier, who probably could have torn Lain's spine out through his nostrils if he'd felt the need. Remembering how brash and insufferable the braggart Augmented had been during their previous time together, Lain was somewhat shocked to see the subdued and browbeaten look on the young cyborg's face this time, mixed with plenty of all too easily seen anguish. He looked really broken up about something, and Lain's first snide comment died stillborn in his throat as he straightened in his chair somewhat once more. Without a word Mechael bent down behind him and did something to Lain's handcuffs that involved more brute force than any sort of key, and for the first time in what was probably days, Lain was free to move both his legs AND his arms. Rubbing proper circulation back into his wrists, Lain nodded at Mechael and muttered something that hopefully sounded like a thank you. Mechael just ignored him, and sat down in another chair nearby, the reinforced steel furniture creaking under Mechael's artificially enhanced bodyweight.
It wasn't until the spotlamp flicked on overhead, thankfully pointed downward rather than directly into Lain's light sensitive eyes, that Lain realized there was a third person in the room with them, seated in a much more comfortable chair across the room, perhaps behind a wall of armor glass or something, though it was hard to tell. Lain's face soured almost at once as his gaze settled on the wrinkled features of one of his least favorite people alive, Dr. Sammual Roanoke, the Director of FEAR's Cyber-Mechanical projects and the brain behind both the Extended and Augmented supersoldier programs. Stella's much beloved "Father", though there was no biological relation between Roanoke and any of the Extended as far as Lain knew. At least he fervently hoped not! Bad enough what he'd done to them, doing the same thing to his own biological children... well... maybe it wasn't any worse than what he'd done already actually.
As usual, Roanoke had a pinched expression on his face, like he'd just discovered a bug in his morning oatmeal or something, and he was hunched forward in his chair like a buzzard contemplating a pair of recent possible roadkills. His eyes met Lain's and held the challenging look for a few moments, before Roanoke looked down and away, and that was the moment when Lain's stomach tried to flee into his ankles, because Roanoke had looked almost ashamed for a moment there, and the not so good Doctor had NEVER showed even a slight hint of remorse of any sort to Lain before in the near decade he'd known the man. Lain hadn't even thought regret or guilt to be emotions Roanoke was even capable of experiencing, and to see them hinted at know made his gut roil in a VERY unpleasant manner, especially as there was one person he missed very much who was not present right now.
"What did you DO?" Lain accused, his voice all but smoking with pent up anger as he half stood from his chair and glared at Roanoke. "You freaky old bastard, WHAT DID YOU DO TO STELLA?"
Roanoke flinched a little bit from the vehemence in Lain's voice, but there must have been some form of security system between him and the enraged solar Knight, because he remained in his chair and even managed to meet Lain's gaze once more. "Its not what I have done so much as what I have failed to do." Roanoke replied gruffly. "I did not intend for events to spiral out of control thusly, but outside factors have created something of an impossible situation for me and..."
"WHAT HAPPENED TO STELLA?" Lain cut the doctor off, not in any sort of mood for self justifying bullshit. Security system or not, he was about two seconds and one wrong word from going over there and choking the doctor to death with his own shriveled testicles!
"She's been reassigned." Roanoke answered, with surprising brevity. "It happened shortly after you were recovered, while you were still undergoing "processing" by our dutiful Section Nine detail. As much as they might like to think otherwise, the code of law is very clear, and Section Nine and the regular military forces, the Solar Knights included, have no authority to imprison or hold any member of FEAR's special combat forces, and so Stella was released into our custody at once. Notice I said "our" custody and not "my" custody. And in that minor difference lies the crux of the problem. Orders came down DIRECTLY from the lips of the Chief Director, that witch Dr. Dostanya, requesting a significant force of Extendeds, including the entire currently deployable generation, to be reassigned to Nifelheim, FEAR's new Antarctic base. Effective immediately. I doubt Stella was here for more than an hour before she was on a shuttle Earthward. They didn't even give her time to recover any personal effects before they all but dragged her off."
"I thought you were the only one who could give the Extended their marching orders?" Lain sank back into his chair, stunned. Not only Stella was suddenly gone, but Sting and Auel too? He suddenly felt very, very alone, and did not like the shiver that crept up and down his spine at the thought.
"I rather thought that too, but the Chief Director has made things abundantly clear about how limited my authority actually is." Roanoke grimaced as if in real pain. "That jumped up bitch is going to make one power play too many one of these days, I just hope I live long enough to see it blow up in her damnably pretty face!" His furious posture slowly deflated, leaving him looking almost shrunken, and every bit as old as he actually was. "But after the fiasco of the engagement with the Retributors and the DISMAL showing of my prize Augmented, not to mention the loss of one of our top secret Panzerdragoons to the terrorist forces, and the loss of scores of lives and hundreds of millions of dollars of other military equipment during the battle, all of which has been placed at my doorstep, I find myself walking on very thin ice indeed when it comes to pushing things with the Chief Director."
"He just got lucky, that's all!" Mechael blurted out defensively from his chair, though he wilted almost at once when both Lain and Roanoke turned incredulous glares upon him.
"I reviewed the battle recorder data personally. Indeed, I was given the humiliating task of presenting it not only to the Chief Director but to the Solar President and his senior commanders as well, personally, so I am FULLY acquainted with just what a horrendously inadequate showing you made, Mechael. I was almost laughed out of the room when I tried to come to your defense my boy, and only managed to save even a little face by declaring you MERELY a prototype, and likely a defective one at that! You, the one I pinned my hopes upon for the future of all supersoldiers... you've made me AND yourself into the joke of the high command!" If Roanoke's voice had become any more caustic, Lain wouldn't have been surprised to see acidic fumes rising from Mechael's face. Now he knew why the Augmented was acting like a puppy that had just been smacked with a newspaper.
"Okay so maybe I screwed up, but you didn't have to take the Omega-Panzer away..." Mechael sulked.
"My dear boy you're lucky I didn't deactivate your power source for good!" Roanoke retorted. "Piloting a Gundam in a combat scenario is simply out of the question right at the moment. If you are deployed again... and that is a BIG if, it will be as a ground support infantry specialist. I just hope to all the principles of science that you don't make a bloody hash of that too, or else it really WILL be the scrap heap for you... and possibly ME too!"
"Getting back to Stella..." Lain prompted insistently. Not that he wasn't glad to see Mechael taken down a peg or ten, but there was getting your ego popped and then there was going up against the wall with a gun at your back if you screwed up again, and there was the very real possibility that if Mechael wasn't a brilliant success in his next mission, he would be discarded like any other defective part and recycled, which was a fairly terminal procedure for a man who was mostly cyborg, and Lain couldn't find it in himself to wish the poor bastard that kind of fate. "You said she's been reassigned?"
"Yes, Stella has been personally reassigned under the direct command of Chief Director Dostanya, the particulars of her deployment orders are sealed beyond my ability to penetrate. However, I can make a fairly good guess as to what she intends to use her for, given what ELSE was recently confiscated from my laboratories. Its nothing less than what I was intending, just in a different manner." Roanoke heaved another heavy sigh.
"You know, maybe you'd better start somewhere a bit further back, because I haven't the slightest fucking clue what you're talking about and I don't like that at all." Lain suggested, direly.
"Have you ever wondered, Mr. Debora, why I stood back and allowed you and Stella to generate a relationship like you have, even though it runs actively counter to many of the goals I am trying to accomplish with the Extended program, not least of which being the perfection of a perfectly tranquil mind?" Roanoke asked tiredly. Seeing Lain's cautious nod, Roanoke continued on. "It went against my better judgement at first, but you should know I've always had something of a soft spot for Stella. She's always been a top performer, and her tranquility is near perfect, better than any other Extended. Even coding her with a berseker subliminal break word couldn't dimish the strength of her tranquility. She might be the greatest success of the current generation of Extended. So I was of a mind to tolerate more insubordination from her than I would have from a less accomplished Extended. And though her tranquility did at first fluctuate during your relationship, contrary to my expectations, it did not dissolve over time, but instead has only grown stronger. Indeed I am forced to conclude that Stella's relationship with you has only made her a BETTER Extended, rather than a worse one."
"So because I wasn't causing her problems, and indeed actually helping her meet your goals, you let us have our relationship? Gee, Sam, that's almost human of you." Lain snarled humorlessly.
"I don't wish for, require nor expect your approval, Mr. Debora. At the end of the day, Stella is an Extended, not a normal girl, and any delusions you have about making her one are doomed to failure. However, I am not so horrible as to deny my premier daughter a chance at happiness, especially one that improves her effectiveness as an Extended. Believe it or not, I was even thinking about allowing you to procreate with her. Your genes combined with hers would have made a fine foundation for the next generation of Extendeds." Roanoke said with a slight smile.
Lain did not return the smile. Indeed, it was all he could do to not hurl himself at the doctor once more. "If you think for a SINGLE moment I would EVER allow any child of Stella and mine to be inducted into your inhuman project you've got another thing com..."
"Without my help Stella cannot procreate, her ovum have all been removed, as is standard procedure for female Extended." Roanoke cut him off curtly. "And while the question of control over progeny between a member of the program and an outsider would be an entertaining legal matter, I can assure you, I would win it. There are many worse fates for children, Mr. Debora, and have you even thought about what Stella might want?"
"Stella is still half brainwashed by you fucks, so I think her opinion might be somewhat suspect." Lain snapped back. ."Any child of mine is by default an Orb citizen, and if you think I would hesitate to get the entire Orb legal system involved on my behalf, you're as delusional as you claim I am."
"Its a moot point anyway, because besides Stella herself, all of her genetic material, including her ovum samples, have been confiscated by order of the Chief Director, and taken to Nifelheim as well." Roanoke retorted, obviously a bit irritated at Lains pronouncements. "I have only thirty eggs saved back, some of which I was planning on allocating to your use so that Stella might attempt to live birth a few children of her own. I thought it would be good for morale for the rest of the Extendeds. The rest were to go into my research on mass producing more Augmented, as Stella's genes line up well for that purpose as well. She really is quite the exceptional girl." Roanoke fixed Lain with his more usual hard, penetrating gaze. "I have a proposition for you, Mr. Debora."
"Guess I don't have much choice but to hear you out, do I?" Lain answered, slouching back in his chair.
"As you might imagine, having my authority so blatantly usurped and my research materials stolen so blatantly by that bitch Dostanya has me a bit perturbed." Roanoke said, ignoring Lain's insouciant posture. "And I happen to have it on good authority that Section Nine has been given reasonably explicit orders to do their best to pin the blame for the loss of your Vindicator and my Panzerdragoon to the Retributors squarely upon your shoulders, perhaps even imply that you sold the technology to the enemy in exchange for your life. A certain someone high up in the Solar Knight's chain of command apparently doesn't like you very much and wants you gone something fierce. Now, I still have enough power to spare you that sort of unpleasant fate, but it will mean you doing a few things for me."
"Let's assume I'm listening." Lain prompted, trying not to show his fear of the thought of Rey's goons getting their hands on him in a more permanent fashion. Especially if the quasi deal he and Stella had worked out with Ashino came out under intensive questioning. He suddenly felt like he was wearing a tombstone around his neck. His tombstone. "Lets assume I'm listening very carefully." he added, mostly to himself.
"Though I have no authority to order you in your role as Solar Knight's Liason, as Liason you have the freedom to appoint yourself extra duties in order to assist in relationship building between FEAR and the USN... I looked it up in your orders... and I'm offering you the duty of being Mechael's command and control authority during his deployment to the surface, oddly enough, based at Nifelheim. As for what that means, in basic terms you're responsible for his conduct, much like a chaperone. You won't have any authority to actually order him to do anything, but if he knows what's good for him, he'll listen to your advice, because you report to me, and I do have the authority to do pretty much anything I deem necessary to Mechael in order to motivate a better performance out of him. However, this posting is merely a cover for what I really want you to do." Roanoke explained.
"And that is?" Lain asked, trying not to sound too suspicious, not liking the feeling of getting drawn in to the interior politics of FEAR.
"Simple. I want you to rescue Stella and, if possible, sabotage whatever plans Dostanya intends to use her for. Of course you won't be able to just swoop down like a knight in shining armor and carry her away... like it or not the Chief Director's orders are legal and you'll be declared a traitor if you try to go in with guns blazing. But you can watch over her and make sure she doesn't suddenly disappear or anything. I don't trust Dostanya to treat her right, that woman has no soul." Roanoke leaned back in his chair.
"That's quite a thing, coming from a pretty damned soulless bastard like you, Sam." Lain pointed out. "So what do I get out of the deal? You want me to go balls to breasts with the most powerful person in all of FEAR, someone who scares even a freaky old fuck like you into wetting your pants, and intentionally throw a monkey wrench into whatever big plans she has? I don't like the idea of being a sacrificial pawn, and I can't protect anyone, much less Stella, if i've been dissected and thrown in an medical incinerator."
"You mean, what do you get besides the chance to protect the girl you love and being spared the certainty of brutal torture and eventual death at the hands of Section Nine?" Roanoke clarified with a single raised brow. "I should think that's plenty enough as it is."
"Well you think wrong. This is my life we're talking about, and Stella's too. You're gonna have to do better than just saving my bacon right now and letting me do something I'd goddamn do anyway." Lain countered. "You wouldn't be asking me for this if you had any other choice, Sam, and you know it. So sweeten the deal or watch your life's work get taken away from you by "that jumped up bitch"."
"Yes, you would make a good Extended indeed. You've got the hardness in you." Roanoke mused, almost to himself. "Fine then. If you can prove to me that you've foiled whatever plans Dostanya has Stella in mind for, and you help Mechael stay out of trouble long enough for him to recoup the reputation of the Augmented, and if you can recover for me as much of my pirated genetic material as possible, this is what I will do. In exchange for semen samples of significant quantity from you, I will reimplant Stella with a supply of her ovum, and any children the two of you bear by natural biological means will be yours to do with as you and Stella decide. With samples of your genetic matter and Stella's, I'll be able to create new Extended without your help anyway at that point in time, so I have no reason to confiscate any biological children."
"And you'll retire Stella and any other Extended from active duty once they've served for more than ten years." Lain pressed his luck.
"And I'll retire Stella from active duty once the first of the new generation of Extended have been born and tested viable. And any Extended that survives fifteen years of active service will be free to retire from active duty if that is their choice, though I'm afraid any sort of re-integration into normal society is impossible. But arrangements can be made to provide a home for them. Believe it or not, I do look upon them as the children I've never had." Roanoke countered.
"And because you do, I'm glad you've never had children." Lain answered with complete sincerity. "Okay, Sam, you have yourself an agent. I just have one question though... why didn't you just take sperm samples from me if you want em so bad?"
Roanoke gave him a surprised look. "Because that would be stealing, Mr. Debora. Your genetic material belongs to you by law. Whatever your opinion of me and my projects, I assure you, I am no thief. Besides, if you give them to me freely, then you have no legal grounds to protest the use to which they are put. Its nice and neat, and I adore neatness."
"Don't I get a say in this bullshit?" Mechael asked grumpily.
"No!" Both Roanoke and Lain echoed at the same time, in almost the same vehement tone.
xxxx
New Eden, Nifelheim Antarctic Base, November 15th, Morning
Natalia looked up as the doors to her new office, deep within the lowest and warmest levels of FEAR's newest terrestrial facility, the Antarctic base known as Nifilheim, slid open, allowing the slightly cooler air in the hallway outside to gust inwards. Natalia kept her office warmest of all, the illusion of the sub zero ambient temeperature and even worse wind chill making her feel cold even though her body, which was much more like that of an Extended than a mere Natural, could survive on the surface unprotected quite well, at least for a day or two. One look at the resolute but tormented expression on Rey's face told her what the problem likely was, but a quick glance down at her desk, fingers scrolling through several open subwindows of data feeds, showed the room with Lunamaria Hawke, all nicely sedated and ready for Rey's use, empty and unlit, the dropsheet still respectfully covering Luna's untouched body. Given that she'd left Rey in there to do his thing, just like the last six visits, Natalia had been wondering when something like this would occur, and she was glad it had, because it meant Rey was on the cusp of becoming hers completely.
"I can't do it anymore, Natalia!" Rey said without preamble, his voice full of self loathing. "I can't let myself keep being so weak, so despicable! I'm perverting the emotions I feel for the girl I love and taking advantage of her while she lies in drugged slumber! I'm basically date raping her... have date raped her over six times already! No matter how good the sex is, I always feel so crummy afterwards, so debauched, so beastly! I just can't do it anymore! I have to make amends."
"My dear boy, you have to do nothing of the sort, for you have done nothing wrong." Natalia told him mildly, eyes twinkling behind her lab spectacles.
"Nothing wrong?" Rey grimaced in self derision. "I've been having sex with a girl who has told me she never wants to see my face again! Not, its not sex... its rape, she's never told me she wants it, I've just been taking it from her, regardless of how she feels! Lack of protest doesn't equate to permission granted, especially because she's drugged and not even aware of who she is most of the time, much less who I am! I'm supposed to be one of the shepards of humanity, guiding them to a better future, how can I be a serial molester at the same time and still be worthy of my duty in life?"
"You've got it all wrong, Rey." Natalia insisted, getting up from behind her desk and enveloping him in a tight hug, making sure to pull his head firmly but tightly against her perfectly engineered breasts, taking on the role of a mother comforting a confused and scared child. That was Rey's other weakness, besides his inexperienced and needy libido, he was sorely lacking any major female authority figures in his life... i.e. he had no mother figure in his life to look up to, only a father figure, Durandel, and Durandel couldn't always be there for him when he needed life advice. By providing for both his sexual needs and his need for an understanding, supportive, older female authority figure, Rey was already all but dancing to her whims. Once she helped him beat this inevitable crisis of faith, in which his latent decency and sense of cultural morality tried a last ditch effort to reassert themselves, then he would be hers, body, mind and soul.
"I'm hurting the person I want to protect most in the world, how can I be worthy of being a shepard for humanity? A shepard doesn't molest his flock!" Rey was actually sobbing into her chest now, tormented with his self loathing.
"Shh, Rey, no, that's not how it is at all." Natalia whispered reassuringly in his ear, petting the back of his head and neck, careful to avoid touching him in any overt sexual manner, which could only backfire with him in need of her as a mother figure at the moment, rather than an attentive lover. "A shepard's role is to protect his flock against danger, to make sure they are well fed and cared for, to attend them when they are sick. But it is not a one way relationship Rey, the flock has expectations of the shepard but the shepard must have expectations of his flock in return. Their wool provides him with warm clothes and blankets, the tools he needs to stay awake through the long nights standing guard, their meat and milk provide sustenance to keep him alive and healthy in turn. You are one of our shepard protectors, you keep us safe from danger, and in return we all have an obligation to serve your needs too."
"Serve my needs? Obligation?" Rey asked, hope suddenly igniting in the pits of his soul. Perhaps he wasn't totally lost after all.
"You are a great man, Rey, who fufills a role so important, the very future of humanity hinges on your ability to perform it well. Great men have by their very nature, great needs, and much as it is your duty to protect us from dangers, it is our duty to service your needs so you can focus on your own duty. Your job is to be the protector, the shield against darkness and evil. Our job is to provide you with the weapons and tools you need to do so, to feed and clothe and house you, to provide subordinates to direct to fight bigger battles and..." Natalia changed her voice to a more seductive, playful tone, her tongue just barely grazing Rey's earlobe. "... to provide for the needs of your body and soul, whether through platonic companionship, friendship or sexual companionship. The service you give us all is so great, so fundamental to our future well being, that in truth, anything we could give you in return pales in comparison. If we were to not be screwing you over in terms of compensation Rey, then women would need to be waiting on you hand and foot at all hours of the day and night, the most beautiful new virgins attending your bed every night. That is what a shepard of humanity deserves by right... but though you could rightly demand such treatment, you restrain yourself to just a few women, those you care about most and treasure. You're not a bad person, Rey... you're just the opposite. You only take the bare minimum, less than that even!"
"It isn't easy being the shepard." Rey said slowly. "So much work, so many dangers, so many members of the flock trying to wander off and do their own thing, making themselves and everyone else vulnerable at the same time! Its constantly frustrating! Its like they don't want to be saved! Its like they are trying to make things hard for me and Gil! Why can't they see how they are endangering everything we've worked so hard to accomplish with their petty intrigues and protests? Why, Natalia, why are they all so stupid and petty?" Rey was sobbing, not with remorse, but with outrage now.
"It is the nature of most sheep to be dull and vapid, unable to take care of their own welfare. That is why we need the shepard, people like you, so badly. Though annoying, it is beneath the shepard to despise his flock for their base nature, he must be tolerant of their shortcomings even as he takes pleasure in those few who stand out from the cud chewing masses with their particular beauty, intelligence or determination. A shepard must take from most of the flock just as he gives to them, without their express consent because they are not even qualified to give it! It is only those rare few, more sheep dogs than sheep, that the shepard can turn to for companionship and understanding, but even the sheep dogs are only there to provide service to the shepard that the sheep cannot provide." Natalia slowly made her caresses more intimate, feeling Rey start to rise to the occasion.
"That would make you one of my sheep dogs then, Natalia?" Rey asked, somewhat wryly. "You must be the blue ribbon prize dog."
"I'm happy you think so much of me, my shepard. This dog is always glad to be of use to her master." Natalia rolled her eyes, inwardly, at how excited even such comparatively minor "slut talk" got Rey. There was barely any art to this kind of seduction, it was all about presenting herself as a bitch in heat and making sure his self confidence stayed high. Oh but she was looking forward to working on Gil, which would be as much an intellectual and spiritual seduction as one through animal sex! She slipped her hand down his trousers and began to stroke him there too. So maybe there is one or two things to say for the young and dumb shepard. He is very... well made. Natalia gripped him tightly, cocking an eyebrow specuatively as Rey groaned through clenched teeth. Very well made indeed. Not suitable for my own personal long term use of course, but just perfect to provide the baseline of my most loyal cadre of new supersoldiers. Or half of it anyway. And as for the other half...
Natalia teasingly withdrew her hand from Rey's pants, her teeth nipping at his lower lip for a moment to draw him on, his hand going up to fondle her breasts, his rapid breathing and shining eyes telling her he was intent on going all the way with her in the next few minutes, pretty much no matter what she wanted to do. Her own fault of course, convincing him that his flock was obliged to sexually serve him, but she couldn't have him wracked with guilt and remorse over his conduct with the Lunamaria girl, couldn't have him hesitate at the wrong moment in the future. If it meant putting up with him thinking that her body was his to use at whim, by right, well then she could tolerate that for a while, and besides, soon enough she would have ways of distracting him from her, except when she needed to reward him, or felt the need for some animal sex with a young, well hung stud. "Patience my love, I have something I want to show you first." Natalia cautioned him, bringing Rey up short as he moved to pin her against her desk.
A touch of a control on the desk opened the recuperation bed-tube built into one of the walls, where Natalia spent her nights most of the time, bathing in the subtly tuned exotic energy fields, letting them remove the effects of the day's aging and wear and tear on her still biological parts, which didn't react well to her implants. That was the true purpose of the recuperation beds, not to tune the mechanical or engineered parts of the Extended form, but to stabilize and repair the purely biological, base matter. The mechanical parts would work fine for a dozen times the biological lifespan of the host body, that was why the parts were recycled from dead or failed projects, rather than making new parts. Though only a few hours a month would provide all the maintenance an Extended needed, Natalia saw no reason why she couldn't take advantage of the beauty care side benefits of the fields as often as she wanted, which was one of the primary reasons her biological body looked about twenty years younger than her physical age.
Out of the recuperation bed stepped a young woman of about Rey's age, shoulder length blond hair, creamy pale skin, very nicely toned atheltic build, clad in a simple sleeveless medical shift that covered her from neckline to midthigh. The young woman blinked her eyes slowly, rosy pink orbs dusky with the effects of the recuperation bed, which put subjects into a state of deep relaxation, where the subconscious was open to modification from outside sources. That feature was disabled when Natalia used the bed of course, but could be reactivated at need. "Rey, I'd like you to meet Stella Louissier." Natalia beckoned to the Extended girl, who plodded over, somewhat unsteady on her feet, to stand limply at attention next to Natalia. "In a way you could say that Stella is my daughter, one of my special children that Sammual and I conceived many years ago, though perish the thought of me ever having physical relations with that old prune." Stella blinked at Rey, her mind still basically in a dream state, her memories and higher cognitive functions locked away behind the hypnoconditioning of the bed. Even more so than usual, Stella was just a flesh golem at the moment, unable to act of her own free will.
Natalia would put the girl back to normal when they were done, she was a very experienced Extended after all, one of the most senior of the entire project, and Sammual had a soft spot for her in his heart, treated her almost like she really was his daughter, rather than some trash orphan they'd picked out of a lineup. But even Natalia had been impressed with how well the girl had taken to the Extended implants, better than Natalia herself had even, barely even requiring time in the recuperation bed after the implants stabilized at around age 18. They still made her do time there anyway, maintaining the illusion that the Extendeds required the beds to survive, when in truth, after the implants stabilized, there was little real need for the beds. Fortunately, most Extendeds never fully synchronized with their implants, but Stella was the exception to the general rule. Along with her genetic predisposition towards what Sammual called "mental tranquility", the ability to be invisible and even untouchable to psychic powers, she was a prime canidate for furthering the supersoldier program.
Of course, Sammual had already noted that, and had set aside her reproductive materials for creating his new Augmented units, but after running her own tests and finding that Stella was nearly a one hudnred percent match for her own program, she'd yanked the samples from Roanoke's storage units and appropriated them for herself. Sammual had pitched a fit of holy hell of course, until she reminded him who worked for whom exactly, who controlled the allocation of research funding, and how his standing with her wasn't particularly high at the moment, with his brand new Augmented having returned after getting his butt kicked by the Retributors, after all of Roanoke's boasting right in front of Durandel. When he'd whined about how he didn't have anything left for the Augmented program now, she'd told him to use the set of thirty eggs he'd subdivided aside a few years back, and to clone them if need be.
And then she'd seen the stricken look on his face, and she'd had no choice but to laugh at him, even though she knew it wasn't the best idea to antagonize a competent subordinate. It was just too preposterously funny. "Don't tell me you were actually saving those back so she could have a chance at biological reproduction, Sammual? I know you're fond of the girl, but breed with her, you can't be serious." She'd half mocked.
"Not me, my genetics would make poor Extended. But her paramour, that Solar Knight, his genes are quite suitable, in combination with Stella's. Their get would make a fine new generation of Extended." Sammual had replied somewhat stiffly. "And as a reward for her years of faithful and exemplarly service, I was considering allowing her to live birth at least one or two children, as is within my remit as project director. It would be very good for morale among the Extended, to see one of their own giving birth to a new generation, freshening the gene pool, that sort of thing."
"You know what else would be good for morale?" Natalia had prompted. "Extra sessions in the recuperation beds and subconscious implantation of happy thoughts. Can you guess which approach I prefer, Sammual? Losing one of our best assets to nine months of biological and emotional imbalances, where she would be all but useless to us and undeployable, or an extra six hours of hypnoconditioning? Cost efficiency, Sammual, look it up." And then she'd hung up on him.
And Rey, dear Rey, had so little idea of how special his own genetics were. Those with the genes for Tranquility lacked certain other genes from their makeup completely, such as the so called Seed gene and of course, the Newtype Gene. Seed genes could be found in pretty much anyone, but Rey's were particularly strong, if still unawakened, and he also possessed Newtype genes, of the Latent variety. The poor boy had no idea, that being one of the few secrets Durandel still kept from him, since it would hardly do for the adopted son of the Solar President, commander of the ground war against the psychic nations, to be discovered himself as a psychic. By combining someone with strong Tranquility and someone with strong Seed and Newtype genes, especially a Latent, Natalia was confident that she would be able to create a new breed of supersoldier that would eclipse all the efforts of her peers and rivals, the BCPU's, the Extendeds, even Sammual's new Augmented. They would be the Paragons, and they would be the loyal protectors and guardians of the dynasty of "shepard-kings" she would found with Durandel's help. Or at least his genetics, the man himself was just a bonus.
But that was still in the distant future, though she would be taking another step along that path today. Reaching up to Stella's neck, Natalia brusquely unlaced the cloth ties holding the shift together, and let the garment fall away, revealing Stella's nude form for Rey's appraisal. Natalia was gratified to see that he found her comely, judging by the way he half glanced away before looking back out of the corners of his eyes. Stella just stood there, looking confused and unsure, and didn't even have the presence of mind to remember to cover herself. "So why is she here then?" Rey asked, his mouth a bit dry.
Natalia smiled sensually at him. "Isn't it obvious? She's a gift, a small recompense for you, since you lost time with Lunamaria." Natalia replied breezily. "Go on, touch her. The only reason she is here is to fufill your desires, Rey. Don't let her down."
"Are you sure?" Rey asked, his hands twitching as he kept them by his sides. "She's looks kinda... out of it. Is she okay?"
"She's fine, she'd just a little airheaded. She's completely overawed by you, Rey, she worships the ground on which you walk, forgive her for being a bit shy and tongue tied." Natalia encouraged. "Isn't that right, Stella? You want Rey to touch you all over, don't you? You want to make him feel good, right?"
"Stella..." Stella said slowly. "... wants to be touched..." She trailed off again. "Stella... wants to make him feel good..." She blinked slowly. "Where is L..."
"Stella dear, spread your legs a bit more, give him access." Natalia interrupted, before Stella could blab and ruin the mood. Apparently the hypnoconditioning wasn't as strong as she'd thought. That or Stellla's boyfriend had a deeper hold on her than he should. She made a note to talk to Sammual about cutting that interfering gnat out before he could taint the project any further. Rey didn't need to be invited twice, his remaining conscience soothed by hearing Stella say she wanted him, though a part of him nagged, wondering if she was leaving some things, some important detail, unsaid in her replies. It was almost like she was talking about someone else, while speaking to him. Rey shrugged mentally, bringing his hand up between her thighs, brushing fingertips along her silky pubes before sliding his fingers inside her, smirking as he felt her get wet and hot almost imemdiately. Oh yeah, she wanted him all right. Slut.
Natalia smirked broadly as she watched Rey drop his inhibitions and all but throw himself at Stella, rocking her backwards, pushing her hard against Natalia's desk, his hand working between her legs as he brought his mouth down onto her breast and began nipping and sucking, while his other hand pulled on her hair, yanking her head back to bare her neck, where he moved his mouth and tongue later. Stella obligingly spread her legs wider and wider, allowing Rey to touch her deeper and deeper, as she stared blankly up at the ceiling, her breath starting to come in short gasps. After a few minutes of very rough and dirty foreplay, Rey stepped back with a nasty grin on his face, as he began to pull off his own clothing. "She's a real slutty girl, Natalia. She wants me so bad she's shaking. I think I like her."
"She's not the only one who wants you bad." Natalia informed him, stripping out of her own clothes as well and giving him a smoky glance that nearly sent him to the floor with weak knees. Truth be told Natalia was getting a little turned on by the whole situation, and it was necessary in any case, making her imprint on Rey to mark the turning point from when he was Durandel's creature to when he was her creature. "But just sit back and watch for a bit, love, lets see if we can't make this even more memorable for you?" Natalia prompted, stepping up to Stella once she'd finished disrobing and putting her arms around the Extended girl in lascivious caresses. Hidden from Rey, Natalia frowned, because Stella WAS trembling like a leaf in a gale, not from desire but from terror. Looking her in the rosy pink eyes, Natalia saw tears trying to form in the corners of Stella's eyes, and she realized that on some level, the girl was aware of what was going on, or at least that she was being taken advantage of. Far from dissuading her, Stella's fear just activated Natalia's predatory instincts, and she smiled wickedly at the Extended.
Bending down, Natalia gently kissed Stella once on each eye socket, flicking away the tears erotically with her tongue, before embracing Stella more possessively and moving in for a french kiss, her tongue invading Stella's mouth aggressively as she roamed her hands over the girl, sparing none of her assets from tactile appraisal. She was rougher than she needed to be, because she wanted to make sure Stella felt it, wanted to make sure she felt the humiliation. Only just payback, in Natalia's mind, for Stella getting the uppity idea she was allowed to have a loving relationship with some Orb punk ace! Natalia tweaked Stella between the legs, pinching at her sensitive bits with her nails, almost hard enough to draw blood, breathing in Stella's gasps like fine perfume. To Rey it must have looked incredibly erotic, because she could hear him stroking himself furiously by the door.
"She's ready now." Natalia declared after a few minutes of molesting Stella, moving around to drape herself against Stella from behind, putting her mouth right up against Stella's ear, where she could whisper to her without Rey being able to hear. "Stella has been a very naughty girl these past years, and its time for her to be punished." Natalia admonished her victim. "Stella will go to this man in front of her, who is NOT Lain Debora, and she will do whatever he wants her to do, starting with taking his penis into her mouth and sucking on it. Stella will provide as much pleasure for this man, NOT Lain Debora, as she can, and she will make him think that Stella is loving every minute of it. Stella will do this for at least an hour and a half today, and will continue to drop by to see Rey whenever she has free time to do more of the same, without letting Lain Debora know where she is going or what she is doing. After Rey is done with her body, Stella is to smile and say "thank you, master shepard, for protecting me and saving me". If Stella does all of these things without messing up or talking back, then Stella will be allowed to continue seeing Lain Debora, who will never know what is going on."
"But if Stella tries to run or hide or tells anyone what is going on, especially Lain Debora, then Lain Debora will die, but not before he watches Stella service Rey in every way possible, and then a multitude of other men as well. And if Stella fails to make Rey happy, then she will spend much more time with him until he forgives her, and that time will have to come out of any time otherwise spent with Lain Debora. Does Stella understand what is expected of her?" Natalia continued viciously.
"Stella understands." Stella replied, her voice quavering, a whisper only Natalia could hear by putting her head next to Stella's mouth, making a pretense of kissing her neck one last time. "Stella hates it, and Stella hates you for doing this, but Stella understands. Stella will do it, but no one will hurt Lain, or else..."
"Or else nothing, you spoiled brat. You are fortunate I feel like allowing you to simper over him even once more, because I am in no way obliged to. Try to get uppity with me, try to fight me, and I'll have you chained spread eagle to Rey's bed, for the amusement of him and any of his friends he wants to give you to until this war is over, and that is my right as your owner to do! Now get on your knees and suck his dick, cause I don't want to hear another word come out of your mouth that isn't "yes", "please", or "harder, master", is that clear?" Natalia slapped Stella on the ass, hard enough to leave a palm print, pushing her golem forward to her task. Stella dropped to her knees in front of Rey, and he put his hands on her head and groaned happily as she took him into her mouth, perhaps a bit lacklustrely, but Rey, like most men, would never know the difference, stoked just to be getting a blow at all.
"You can cum in her as much as you like." Natalia said once Stella was fully occupied. She smiled as she watched Stella jerk and moan a bit at that news. "Her ova have already been extracted for other purposes, so she's incapable of becoming pregnant. Standard procedure with Extendeds, we can't have our Supersoldiers getting distracted by having babies now can we?" Natalia explained. Truth be told, all Stella really was at this point in time, besides a distraction for Rey, was a container for collecting Rey's ejacluations. She could have just asked him to jerk off into a cup, she supposed, but most men found that sort of thing humiliating, and that would reduce her hold on him. Plus she'd have to explain why she needed his sperm, and she wasn't ready to do that. Siphoning his genetic material out of Stella after he was done with her would only take a few minutes, and then she could begin her experiments on constructing the first Paragons. It was important that the sperm not be contaminated by other biological samples, which was why she couldn't have extracted it from herself. Plus this way let her put an uppity piece of property back in its proper place, because if there was one thing that really got under her skin, it was the hired... in this case owned... help getting ideas above their station, such as an Extended being deserving of a normal human relationship! Preposterous!
Deciding that even if Rey couldn't tell the difference between real effort and a humoring blow, Natalia herself could, and not having anywhere else to go for the next few hours, Natalia crouched down behind Stella and shoved her head forward, forcing her to take Rey much deeper into her mouth. The Extended gagged uncomfortably, drawing a harsh vindictive smile to Natalia's face. "Here, daughter, let me show you how to pleasure a man. Pay close attention, because you will be tested on this material..." Natalia noticed that Stella was crying again, but she didn't mind. That just made it all the better actually. Let Rey think she was sobbing with joy, Natalia knew the real pleasure was in listening to Stella cry her shame and distress. Who said work had to be dull? Natalia hadn't had this much fun in ages...
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