Previously:
Private Residence of Kemal Pamuk, New Byzantium, Milky Way Galaxy, April 2199
"Make sure the information isn't leaked right away," he replied. "We want a bit of a panic before we begin to fix everything, or make it look as though we're fixing everything."
"Yes, sir," she nodded, smiling at him as she walked over to him. She removed her shirt and lowered herself to her knees. "Will there be anything else, Minister, or should I say, President-elect?"
He grinned and tossed the tablet aside.
She undid his trousers and eased them down to his feet together with his pants. Shuffling forward, she dutifully took him into her mouth and began attending to him vigorously.
He fisted his hands in her hair and made her choke on him, delighting in the sound of her gagging around him again and again.
"That's it," he hissed, his eyes dark and menacing. "Take it all, Mary."
Chapter 13:
HMS Andromeda, Mothership Class Spacecraft, New Byzantium, Milky Way Galaxy, April 2199
Darkness.
Mary kept her eyes shut tight, the murky black behind her lids drawing her in, covering her like the layers of a blanket, warm and thick.
Darkness.
She swallowed. Her teeth clenched behind her sealed lips. It was the darkness of space, or the deepest oceans back on Earth, where even light could not reach, unending and all-consuming.
Darkness.
She could lose herself in it, forget herself in it, put away all duty and memory, give in to the addictive power of it, the lure of being just a body, a being floating in it, nothing but her senses left. No title. No name. No responsibilities.
No guilt.
Darkness.
A flash of light drew a harsh breath from her throat. She shifted, searching for some anchor and finding nothing. With no vision, she felt the rub of silk over her closed eyes, the twist of lace around her neck, the dig of the rope around her wrists. Her blood roared in her ears as it pounded through her veins, her pulse racing from her exertions. She licked her lips, panting now as she could feel a sheen of sweat along her back. Turning her head slightly, she called out to a room that she could not see, her voice a hiss of a prayer.
"Harder, Matthew! Harder, please!"
She heard his answering grunt, felt one large hand grasp her hip tighter while the other pulled on her braid, making her arch her back and raise her head to the ceiling, a delicious ache along her scalp that added to the burning between her legs.
"Mary…"
"Take it!" she growled in response, shutting out the note of concern in his voice. She wouldn't have his worry or his pity. She wanted only dominance and punishment, the unrelenting force of his hips driving her to oblivion.
"Fuck me!" she begged. "Fuck my…"
The rest of her plea was lost in a long wail as he groaned and increased his pace. She tried to buck back against him but his strength was too much, too perfect, exactly what she craved. She was sore and weak from being ridden hard, her knees and his grip all that was holding her up at the moment. His hand moved from her hip up to cup and fondle her breast and she moaned anew, the added stimulation sending her over yet again, her hands pulling uselessly at her bonds.
"Yes! Yes!" she whimpered as she shook again and again.
"Mary!" he shouted, his hips losing their cadence, each thrust now driving her forward, plunging into her as deep as he could go.
She opened her mouth to beg him again but no words came out. All she could do was squeal and yell and finally smile as he drew her to him and let go, the searing heat of him filling her and drawing one last peak from her spent body.
He lowered her gently to the bed, his ragged breath washing over her. Her hands were freed from behind her back, her arms rubbery as she stretched out. The blindfold came next, though she kept her eyes closed even after he removed it. She lay on her side, boneless and exhausted, her heart hammering in her chest, her mouth open and gulping in air.
"We need to clean up," he said smoothly, kissing a trail up her spine. "And probably change the linens again."
She hummed lazily, not caring for how dishevelled she must appear or what a mess they surely made. Her braid was mostly undone, stray tendrils stuck to her face.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Mmm, very much so," she purred. "You beast."
He scoffed. "You're sure that everything is fine?"
She blinked and opened her eyes, not looking at him yet. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"
He frowned. "No reason. I've just noticed that you've been particularly adventurous as of late."
"Are you complaining?" she teased, turning around and arching her eyebrow at him. "You enjoyed tying me up. You certainly enjoyed spanking me."
"I did, and I do," he nodded. "I just wonder what the motivation is, that's all."
"Is wanting to have hot sex with my boyfriend not motivation enough?" she laughed, sitting up and steadying herself for a moment while her head spun. "Speaking of which, I have another scenario for us to try when I can get feeling back into my legs again."
He looked at her cautiously. "You do? What's that?"
"I was thinking that I could be the prisoner about to be sentenced, and you are the corrupt judge with my fate in your hands," she grinned, leaning over and kissing his neck. "And you make me earn my freedom."
He gulped audibly, his arm reaching around and stroking her warm back. "That is quite creative."
"I have a pair of handcuffs we can use," she drawled, running her hand over his chest. "You shackle me and use my body for your pleasure. Anything you want. Everything you want. I'm completely helpless and have to take all of it, in every way you can imagine."
He grunted in response.
"Can we have a soak first, though?" she asked. "I must recover before you have your wicked way with me again."
"Right," he nodded. He lifted her in his arms and carried her from the bed towards the bathroom. She curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. As he brought her to the bath, he glanced at her with concern, a slight frown on his face before he stepped into the tub and the water jets activated.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, Earth, Milky Way Galaxy, April 2199
Robert sighed as he came into the library, his frown lessening only just. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a whisky and water. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a deep breath as he looked outside the large windows at the green fields of his family home that stretched to the horizon.
"I take it your call did not go well?" Cora asked from her seat on the sofa. She scrolled to the next page of the book on her tablet before raising her head to look over at her husband.
"No, not at all," he replied, shaking his head and turning to face her. "Not that I expected it to. The man is a wreck, and of course he is."
"Losing his wife just two years ago and now Evelyn," she remarked, shaking her head. "Well, it's a wonder he's even able to function."
"I don't know how well he's functioning, to be fair. He hasn't been to work at all since the news of Evelyn's death and no one's seen him at the club or the races. I'm glad that he's answering my calls but there's so very little I can tell him."
"Has Sybil completed the autopsy?" she asked.
"Not yet," he replied. "I told her to take her time. All of them have been through such an ordeal. I imagine the details will not be of any comfort."
"I always liked Evelyn. He was so well mannered and diligent. Mary has had far worse suitors, to be sure," she shrugged.
"I wouldn't say he was much of a suitor, really, but he was a friend of the family and a fine diplomat. We are all worse off for his loss," he nodded.
"Well, at least everyone else is safe and sound. I hate that they were all down there together," she scoffed.
"Edith wasn't. She was safe on the ship," he noted.
"You know what I mean," she frowned.
"My darling, I am just as eager as you to see a grandchild grace these halls, but I need not remind you that we both agreed it would be some time in coming. All three of them have soaring careers. Mary isn't even married yet," he said.
"One can still hope," she replied.
"My Lord," the butler called from the doorway.
"Yes, Carson?" Robert answered, turning towards the servant.
"A subspace call for you, my Lord. I've transferred it to your office," Carson informed him.
"Excellent," Robert nodded. He turned to Cora and took another sip of his drink. "I've got to take this. Are we still heading out tonight?"
"Rosamund is expecting us in London for dinner so I would say yes," she nodded.
"Well, just make sure that Mama is ready to go. She tends to dally when it's time to travel," he advised.
"You need not remind me of that," she rolled her eyes.
He smirked and set his drink down on the table before leaving the library and crossing over into his office. Closing the door behind him, he came over to stand in the centre of the room on a the raised platform.
"Answer call," he stated.
The computer beeped and the lights of the office darkened. Projectors hidden in the walls beamed across the room and lit up the image of Robert's caller.
"Minister Pamuk," Robert nodded.
"Admiral," Kemal smiled, bowing his head. "Thank you for taking my call."
"Of course, of course," Robert said. "How is the aftermath?"
Kemal frowned. "The poll numbers are quite dismal, I'm afraid. A significant segment of the population favours renegotiation, but a fair number want to scrap the deal altogether."
Robert sighed again. "And what about within Parliament?"
"The conservatives were never in favour of the deal to begin with so they're predictably up-in-arms," Kemal replied. "There are the usual calls for the President to step down, but I think there is enough support to keep the deal alive. We just need a bit of a push to reassure everyone and rebuild confidence."
"I agree, but how to go about doing that?" Robert asked.
"The main resistance to the alliance is based on a fear of losing our identity, our traditions, what makes us unique," Kemal advised. "If we were to show that the British not only respect our way of life, but encourage it, that may appease enough of the representatives and the population so that the deal can continue without too much debate."
"I won't negotiate on the military terms," Robert shook his head. "It's important that our presence in that sector be made clear."
"Yes, of course," Kemal nodded, smiling politely. "I was thinking more a symbolic gesture."
"Such as?" Robert asked curiously.
"What we are asking the people to accept is a new relationship with Britain, a partnership, one that is expected to last for many lifetimes. We are essentially asking the people to commit themselves to an Empire that they know very little of," Kemal explained.
"So you've said," Robert nodded. "How do we make them more comfortable with the idea, then?"
"By showing them they have nothing to fear, and that they can actually embrace this new relationship," Kemal smiled, bringing his hands together in front of him.
"And how would you do that, exactly?" Robert questioned.
Kemal smiled. "By letting them see that this isn't just a political accord, but a true partnership."
HMS Andromeda, Mothership Class Spacecraft, New Byzantium, Milky Way Galaxy, April 2199
"End examination," Sybil called, shaking her head as she removed her VR headset and set it down on the table. The capsule containing Evelyn's body sealed back up and she left the surgical suite to head back to her office.
"Get me Captain…" she called, before pausing steps into her office. "Oh. Hello, darling."
"Anything?" Mary asked, getting up from her seat and coming over to her sister.
"I'm done," Sybil confirmed, kissing Mary on the cheek before going to sit down behind her desk. "Evelyn suffered an impact to the head. There is a good chance that he was unconscious when the shrapnel pierced his chest.
Mary cringed. "So he wouldn't have felt any pain, then?"
"Very little, if any," Sybil nodded. "The shock from the explosion and any concussion or trauma that he may have suffered…well, it would have been quite fast, I think."
Mary nodded slowly and looked down at her hands.
"Have you spoken to Papa?" Sybil asked.
"Yes," Mary replied. "He says that Evelyn's father is a mess, understandably so. I sent him a message saying he could call me if he wanted to. He sent me a thank you note back but that's it."
"I can't imagine he is in a talkative mood," Sybil noted. "It was a complete coincidence that Evelyn happened to be standing where he was when the attacks came, you know."
"I know," Mary nodded. "I'm more worried about saving this deal. If we lose that as well, his death will seem even more pointless."
"What news on that?" Sybil enquired. "Matthew said there have been talks?"
"Minister Pamuk is trying to keep everything together," Mary replied. "He's been calling in favours, negotiating behind the scenes and doing all he can to push the accord through Parliament. I'm feeling rather useless, really. I just hope that whatever he has planned will work."
"He seems quite sure of himself," Sybil remarked. "From the little that I've seen of him, he's always rather confident."
"He is, yes," Mary agreed. "We have to trust him, trust his judgment. These are his people, his connections. Plus he's on our side. He and Evelyn were the ones to get the deal done."
"And what about his feelings for you?" Sybil asked. "I understand he sat next to you at several dinners."
Mary rolled her eyes. "He does like me, I suppose. There isn't any time for that sort of thing when you're dealing with a political crisis. Anyway, I've done my best to be friendly but distanced from him so that he doesn't get the wrong idea."
"But you haven't told him about Matthew," Sybil pointed out.
"No, we both agreed that we wouldn't say anything. It isn't as though it's anyone's business," Mary said.
"I don't think that Minister Pamuk is the type to be deterred by a boyfriend anyway," Sybil laughed.
Mary arched her eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know, he just seems to be rather full of himself, that's all," Sybil said. "A man like that wouldn't be put off just because a woman has a boyfriend. He would probably see that as a challenge more than anything."
Mary rolled her eyes. "Well, he doesn't know that I have a boyfriend. Anyway, it's hardly important. He's focused on the accord, not on me."
"Fair enough, but he strikes me as a multi-tasker. He seems to be involved in many things all at once," Sybil commented.
"He's a politician and a well-connected one at that," Mary said. "It's his ability to be involved in numerous matters that will serve us well, or let's hope so, anyway."
"Indeed. All right, I'm just going to finish up my notes and we can go," Sybil stated.
"Go on. I'll see you in the cafeteria," Mary said, turning and leaving the office.
Sybil frowned as she watched her sister leave.
"If we fold the wings in and move thrust to hover speed only, that would allow easier travel in tight spaces," Alex noted, pointing his hand at the virtual drone fighter projected over the table in front of them. The figure changed as he directed and he sat back to evaluate it with narrow eyes.
"Your manoeuvrability would be compromised significantly, and you would be vulnerable to surface fire. You'd basically be floating," Anna noted, running her fingers over her tablet. The scrolling numbers next to the fighter changed from green to red.
"Yeah, that's right," he shook his head. "It would be like trying to fly a dirigible."
She frowned and looked over at him. "Sorry, a what?"
"A dirigible," he repeated, reaching over and spinning the fighter around lazily. "Twentieth century Earth airships. They were basically large floating vessels full of gas that were able to lift off and cruise through the air at rather low speeds. They had virtually no manoeuvrability."
"A dirigible," she stated. "All right, then."
"What?" he asked, glancing over at her smirking face.
"Nothing. It never ceases to amaze how much useless information you have stored in that head of yours, is all," she shrugged.
He frowned. "I'd rather know about the history of aircraft than remember the names of all the members of your favourite Trivorian boy band."
"Mmm," she smiled, glancing away. "Tristan and Forean can serenade me anytime."
"Right…" he grumbled. "So back to actual work…"
"If we must…" she sighed.
"I am sitting right here, you know," he whinged. "Can you please save your juvenile fantasizing for when your husband isn't present?"
"I generally fantasize about my husband when he isn't present," she teased. "There's no need to fantasize when he's right in front of me, now is there?"
"Nice try," he scoffed.
She laughed and slapped his arm. "Look, why don't we consider using probes? We can update their firmware to provide you with basic VR control, outfit them with a standard weapons and scanning package and low level shield upgrades. You'll be able to use their eyes, they can easily move through streets and alleys and they'll have basic crowd suppression capability."
He stroked his chin as she swiped the fighter figure off the table and replaced it with a modified reconnaissance probe.
"No way that thing can stand up to a tank," he noted.
"No, not on its own, but a squadron could keep it occupied until we bring in reinforcements. All we want is to be able to police an area with something more than our handguns," she replied.
"We could have contingency programs in case of another pulse attack wiping out our signal connection," he nodded slowly.
"Or better yet, we deploy them connected to a base drone – a heavily armoured robot that has signal boosting so that even in the event of a pulse attack, the group can still maintain a connection to the pilots," she explained, changing the figure and showing four probes with signal lines headed back to a vehicle.
"Worst case scenario, a pilot could swap into the base drone and control the group until signals are re-established," he commented. "That's not a half bad idea."
"Don't act so surprised, now. I didn't make Commander on my looks alone, you know," she joked.
"I'm not surprised that you came up with the idea," he clarified, smiling over at her.
"Just disappointed that it wasn't yours?" she retorted.
"Not at all. I like to think that we're a team and I helped you a little bit," he answered, turning towards her.
"I suppose we are, yes," she smiled, slapping hands with him. "Let's figure out what specifics you want on them before we present to the senior staff. We can probably outfit the lot onboard. Components should not be difficult to source."
They turned back to the display and Anna brought up a list of weapons and scanning devices for them to peruse. They each picked out different items and moved them over to the probe, attaching them and deleting them as they went, continuing to argue over the merits of each.
"The people are very concerned about their traditions," Robert explained, his face looking grave even in virtual reality. "We need to appear as partners, not conquerors."
"We've sacrificed quite a lot to make this deal happen. Surely, they know that?" Matthew replied, sitting up straight in his chair.
"They know the details of the attack, yes, but remember that they lost people, too," Robert replied. "To them, it's a harbinger of what is to come, and it makes them nervous."
"And gives fuel to the extremists to rile up dissent and cause trouble," Mary noted, shaking her head.
"Exactly," Robert agreed, glancing over at his eldest daughter. "We need to appeal to their sense of history, show that we not only respect where they come from, but that we will not seek to erase all of their past."
"Is it truly that important to them?" Matthew questioned. "The Ottoman Empire ruled almost a thousand years ago on Earth. Besides some influences here and there, how strong a bond to they really have with that era?"
"The bond is as strong as it is convenient," Mary shrugged. "Their architecture, their food, even their flag all bear some ties to that time. Perhaps the younger generations don't identify with it overly much, but there are enough hard liners that can use it as a rallying call."
"I don't care about just how faithful they are to their old ways, just whether it's an issue, and I am assured that it is," Robert nodded.
"So what do we do about it?" Matthew asked. "We aren't asking them to change their flag or way of life. We already account for a significant amount of their tourism business as it is. Are they going to turn us away now?"
"No, of course not," Robert shook his head. "But we need something to appease them while we finalize the accord and have our military base and political connections established. We need the public to look forward to our arrival, rather than protest and riot."
"Sounds like we need a distraction," Matthew muttered. "What do you have in mind?"
Robert took a deep breath. "Back in the time of the Ottoman Empire, the Sultan would grow his lands through conquest. To placate the vanquished, alliances would sometimes be formed through marriage."
Matthew frowned. "The Sultan also kept slave concubines. What does that have to do with anything?"
Robert frowned. "I believe that a gesture of goodwill would go a long way to easing any tensions in the aftermath of the attacks. The public need a symbol, something they can latch on to as a demonstration that we aren't there to take over, but rather to join peacefully with them."
"What are you suggesting?" Mary asked.
"We give them a relationship, of sorts," Robert mumbled. "A couple – a Brit and a New Byzantine – an example that this alliance can work."
"What?" Matthew blurted out. "That's your idea? Parade a couple in public? That will sway the population?"
"Everyone loves a good love story," Robert pressed on. "Film and television romances are very popular in New Byzantium. They see their colony as a paradise. An attractive couple coming together, uniting two peoples, it's quite alluring."
"And who would be the couple, exactly?" Mary asked. "You're going to get actors to be your shining lights?"
"No, that will seem far too contrived. They're too smart for that," Robert shook his head. "We need two people who seem authentic."
"You need two people who they know on some level, but who seem as though they actually could fall in love and be a genuine couple," Matthew stated. "This is entirely bizarre."
"Be that as it may, I believe that we have such a pair. Minister Pamuk has volunteered. He's young, rather good looking from what I am told, and his profile is quite high," Robert said. "Moreover, he has ancestry tracing back to the Ottoman Empire and his record for respecting history and culture is prolific."
"Yes, he's a big fan of bath houses," Matthew remarked.
Mary shot him a warning glance. "That's rather generous of him."
"He wants the deal to happen. Obviously he is very invested in it. On top of that, Evelyn was a good friend of his," Robert continued.
Mary looked down at her hands. "That's true. They got it done, the two of them."
"Right," Matthew said, looking at Mary curiously before turning to Robert. "So we have Minister Pamuk as the boyfriend, as it were. Who will be his paramour?"
Robert swallowed before looking away. "I believe that Mary would be a suitable candidate."
"WHAT?!" Matthew almost shouted.
Mary looked at her father with wide eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Mary is quite well known," Robert said tightly. "Her name was all over the news during the abduction and she's been visible during these negotiations. There are websites dedicated to what she wore on each day and everyone saw that she was involved in the defence at Commemoration Hall. The people know her."
"All of us were there," Matthew pointed out. "Why not Sybil or Anna?"
"First off, they're both already married, which is well known," Robert countered. "Second, it doesn't play as well. Mary is a Captain of the flagship in the fleet. The idea that she would be romanced by an up and coming star Minister in the government is far more appealing than if it was anyone else in that position."
"Romanced," Matthew said sceptically. "You're going to televise their dates live, are you?"
"Matthew," Robert frowned.
"This is the grand plan?" Matthew demanded. "This is the strategy that will secure the alliance? Parade Mary and Minister Pamuk around like some television couple? This is what the braintrust back home and here have come up with?"
"There will be a publicity campaign, lobbying in Parliament and town hall sessions," Robert replied. "All of the normal diplomatic avenues will be pursued. You know as well as I do that the general public cares very little for that – the nuance, the details, policy. They want something they can hold on to, something understandable and relatable, not a sheet of facts and figures. A few weeks, several appearances here and there, just enough to fill the headlines until we get the deal ratified."
"And then what?" Matthew asked. "Will there be a convenient breakup with television interviews and scheduled crying?"
"Then the lustre will fade and all will be forgotten. We'll be established there by then so we can deal with any opposition through the normal channels. However, the public will already be onboard and when they see that they have nothing to fear, Minister Pamuk and Mary need not continue the show any longer."
"I don't like it," Matthew said. "We're supposed to be partners. A healthy partnership doesn't begin with a lie."
"It isn't a lie as much as it is a show," Mary said. "The idea is to give them an example of what our union could be. It's similar to if we have a cultural exchange or a sports competition. The people want to understand what the new world will look like. This is a way to show them."
Matthew looked at her incredulously.
"I'll leave it with you to contact Minister Pamuk and discuss the details further," Robert concluded. "Mary, it's your decision. I know you'll consider all the relevant factors at play. Good day."
"Good day, Papa," Mary nodded.
"Matthew," Robert called.
"Robert," Matthew replied drily.
Before the Admiral's image had even faded, Matthew rose from his chair and leaned on the table towards Mary.
"You cannot possibly be thinking of actually entertaining this farce of an idea," he snarled.
"It's my job to consider all alternatives, as it is yours, as well," she replied.
He laughed sarcastically. "Well, now that you mention it, perhaps I'll romance the Minister. That will give the people an eyeful for certain."
She rolled her eyes. "Be serious."
"I'm giving this idea all the seriousness that it deserves. It's absolutely mad to contemplate," he frowned. "Surely, you see that?"
"What I see is a good man has died," she glared up at him. "A good man who gave his life to Britain in the pursuit of a deal that now hangs by a thread. If I need to smile and wave for the cameras and exchange pleasantries with Kemal to save it, then it's hardly asking very much at all."
"Hardly asking very much at all?" he blinked, his voice almost a yelp he was so shocked. "And how far are you willing to take this charade for the good of Britain and New Byzantium? What part are you willing to play to see this deal through?"
"What are you talking about?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.
"I find it rather convenient that the man who wanted you from the moment you arrived here has volunteered to be your pretend boyfriend, and went so far as to speak to your father about it," he explained. "We know quite well that Robert did not come up with this on his own. Someone pitched it to him, someone persuasive, someone who has his own agenda. Guess who that might be?"
"You're being ridiculous," she frowned. "Kemal has far too much at stake in this deal to put his personal feelings ahead of it. It must succeed for him to continue this rise through the ranks. He wouldn't risk that for some pretend dalliance."
"Unless he isn't pretending at all," he muttered.
"I beg your pardon?" she demanded.
"Do you honestly think that he's going into this with the intention of keeping you at arm's length?" he railed. "It's an excuse. He wants you. He still wants you. He saves the deal and has you on his arm. A rather nice haul, I would say."
"And you think that I'll just fall into his arms and into his bed so easily, do you?" she snapped, rising to her feet. "This is politics, Matthew! This is my decision and my body, thank you. I'm debating whether to go along with the idea or not, but I will not be anyone's consort. It seems that you think I'm so easily lured that I would spread my legs for the good of the Empire. Is that it?"
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No, darling, of course not. I'm just worried, that's all."
"You don't trust me," she declared. "You don't think that I can carry out this assignment without falling prey to some handsome young thing. Just because you seduced me doesn't mean that just anyone can, you know."
"I know that!" he fired back.
The door chimed.
"Come!" they both said curtly.
The doors slid open and Anna and Alex stepped into the conference room, both of them immediately looking warily at the scene before them.
"The prototype interface is ready for testing," Anna said quietly, looking over at Mary in concern.
"We have all the pilots ready and the operator for the base drone standing by," Alex added.
Matthew and Mary kept their gaze on each other for a moment, neither one blinking.
"Captain Crawley will be down shortly to strap in," she said finally, not taking her eyes off of him. "Thank you, both."
Anna and Alex looked at each other cautiously before leaving the room.
"This isn't over," Matthew warned. "Not even close."
"It's over when I say it is," she replied. "And that will be when I have made my decision on whether I will be going ahead with the plan or not."
He exhaled so harshly that his nostrils flared.
"Go," she nodded towards the door. "Everyone is waiting for you."
He shook his head slightly before turning and leaving the room.
Mary closed her eyes for a moment and sighed before turning and heading for the window. She rubbed her arms as she looked out on the port, the towers of the city centre looming in the distance.
Private Residence of Kemal Pamuk, New Byzantium, Milky Way Galaxy, April 2199
Kemal stood beneath the air dryers, breathing deeply as the jets wiped the water off his body and a mist of moisturizer and lotions soothed his skin. His preferred blend of fragrances filled his lungs and he sighed in contentment. Most people showered quickly, using the technology to be in and out and on with their day. He preferred to take his time. Ideally, he would go down to the State-controlled bath house for his usual pampering, but most days did not afford him such a luxury. His in-home bath was more than adequate for his purposes.
He smiled and opened his eyes, looking at himself in the reflection of the mirror, his toned body meeting with his approval. He ran his hand over his stomach, checking for any loose patches of skin or fat and finding very little. Keeping himself in top shape was an arduous task involving exercise, nutritional supplements and the odd surgical procedure, but he was quite pleased with his appearance and it had paid off many times over. He had charmed his way up the ranks of Parliament, to the point that his re-election was a mere formality whenever the people went to the polls. No one dared to even run against him, and when he decided which minister portfolios he wanted, he was generally given them without fuss. Finance or Healthcare was the next natural step up, but he was impatient now. There was a bigger seat for him to fill, the biggest one of them all, and he was determined to have it.
"Mary," he grinned, taking hold of himself and stroking his length slowly. The British Captain was no more special than any other number of women that he had eyed over the years, but the circumstances of her arrival could not have been more perfect. He had changed his plans and changed them again over the past months and now it appeared that Fortune was smiling upon him. The government was teetering, various factions were moving in, and a steady hand was needed. The people were growing suspicious and restless, and they needed assurance. Who better than the Honourable Kemal Pamuk to stand up and give them not only the leadership they needed, but a golden couple to adore and follow? It was pure genius.
"You sweet thing," he grinned, his arousal soaring as he pictured her pale skin, her sharp eyes and those long legs. Centuries ago, his ancestors had been vanquished by hers in what was then called the Great War. It signalled the end of the Ottoman Empire and the beginning of the decline of his homeland into an unstable and conflicted country, a mere member of a larger Europe, rather than the ruling dominant force they once were. To take a white British beauty as his chosen one would be poetic in its symbolism.
He remembered back to their visit to the bath house, when he had access to her mind, her subconscious. He had not discovered any political secrets, but he saw hints of something far more valuable. There was a darkness within her, a rebellious streak that was amorphous and vague, but very much present, buried deep down under layers of her aristocratic upbringing and Academy training. He recognized it from having seen other women's scans and seeing how their behaviour changed with a prompt here and there. There was a vixen within Captain Mary Crawley that was waiting to be unleashed, an addictive side to her personality that she usually ignored. He loved unearthing such secrets in women, showing them that they could be both prim and proper in public, and depraved in private with him. This would be his sweetest conquest yet.
'Incoming call…'
He frowned for a moment, his mood interrupted by the communication. He blinked and grinned when he noticed who was calling. Grabbing a robe and throwing it on, he walked out to the living room and took up his glass of wine.
"Hello, Mary," he nodded, activating the call.
"Hello," Mary replied, her image materializing on the large display that filled the entire wall. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is this a bad time?"
"No, not at all," he shrugged. "I apologize, but I was just in the bath. It's been such a hectic few days that I just now have had time to unwind, but only a little."
"Of course," she nodded. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine," he assured her, casting his eyes downward for a moment. "In times like these, I like to keep busy so I don't have a moment to dwell on…well, you know."
"Yes, yes, I do," she replied quietly.
"I must apologize, Mary," he continued, looking at her.
"Apologize?" she frowned. "For what?"
"I expect you are calling because you spoke to the Admiral…about the proposed plan? I am sorry to put you in that position. The administrators here are rather insistent, I'm afraid," he sighed.
"Administrators?" she repeated.
"Yes. You see we have an entire department dedicated to image management and marketing and such," he explained. "All of us are tightly controlled – what we say, where we go, even what we eat and wear. We had a few scandals in the past and the government does not want anyone stepping out of line. It was that department that came up with the idea of you and I presenting ourselves as a couple."
"I see," she replied. "That sounds quite stifling."
"It can be, but that is the price we pay to serve our people," he waved his hand. "Besides, I have received a rather dapper wardrobe as a result, so I can't complain too much."
She laughed at that.
"I am sorry for bringing you into this, Mary. I completely understand if you should refuse," he said.
"No, that's not it," she shook her head. "Well, I'm still considering it, but I haven't refused."
"That is all I can ask – that you give it proper thought," he nodded.
"Don't you want me to accept?" she questioned.
"I do, yes," he acknowledged. "However, the entire idea is quite abhorrent to me. I should like to think that I can win a woman on my own merit, rather than having her be ordered to spend time with me."
She smiled and nodded. "Well, I am sure that the next one who comes after me shall be more authentically impressed by you."
"I can only hope," he grinned. "Take your time, Mary. I want you to be sure of this. I won't press or push, and should you say no, I shall not hold it against you. I respect you a great deal and admire you for all that you've done."
"Do you think it will work? This…idea…of us?" she asked.
He nodded slowly. "It's an inexact science trying to predict the will of the people, but I can't imagine they won't be impressed by you. Truly, they already are. The only question is whether they would actually believe that a woman like you could be at all drawn to a man like me."
"Oh, Kemal, you don't mean that," she smirked. "You're a bit of a star, aren't you? I'm the foreigner. They'll think that I'm trying to get my hooks into you."
He laughed and shook his head. "I expect the first few headlines would be something along the lines of 'Why him?'"
She laughed. "Well, I shall think it over and get you my answer."
"Good," he nodded. "And have no fear. If you do decide to go ahead, we will plan everything together. We will be partners in this. Whether it is a fake relationship or not, I was raised to treat women well, and I will do so with you."
"Thank you," she nodded. "Good night, Kemal."
"Good night, Mary," he smiled, raising his wine glass to her.
Once Mary's image disappeared from the screen, he went over to the window and looked out on to New Byzantium far below. Taking a sip of wine, he savoured the taste before swallowing.
"You're mine, you fucking beautiful white bitch," he laughed.
HMS Andromeda, Mothership Class Spacecraft, New Byzantium, Milky Way Galaxy, April 2199
"You're low, Tom," Matthew snapped. "Rise to heading 720."
"Bugger," Tom grumbled. "There's hardly any space in here."
"That's the point," Alex chimed in. "We want to be able to move around in tight spaces."
Each of them watched through their VR headsets, moving their probes down the alleyway behind the simulated building.
"Contact!" Matthew called.
A group of soldiers came running down the alley and opened fire.
"Fucking hell," Tom snarled as his probe sent a flare over top of the enemy group.
"Switch to weapons," Alex growled, firing several smoke grenades into the fray.
Matthew launched his probe into the smoke, the laser sights of his guns reaching out through the haze. In a flurry of simulated blaster fire, he pivoted around and took out the entire group, sending the last soldier down with a shot through his head.
"All clear," Matthew announced.
"Uh, this was a submit and capture mission, yeah?" Tom questioned.
"Was it?" Matthew asked. "Ah well, we can use the same strategy and just arm with concussion electric shocks next time."
Alex frowned as the simulation ended and they each disengaged from the interface. Their three piloting rigs brought them back up to a sitting position and turned so they could exit and stand up. The three of them met up after they were out and unwrapped from their harnesses.
"You all right?" Alex asked, looking over at Matthew. "It's not like you to forget the mission objectives."
"I didn't forget them," Matthew shook his head. "We've been cycling through how many simulations now? We should have more than enough data on the probes' capabilities. Tom, you had room to hover, right?"
"Yeah, it's just a bit tight turning corners, but I can manage. I don't know if we can fit more than three of us in a space like that, though, at least not without having more higher up," Tom replied.
"Well, I think they'll work," Matthew concluded. "How long to retrofit them all?"
"For a squadron of ten with two base units, a couple of days, I'd say," Alex answered.
"Good. That should work," Matthew nodded.
"How much longer do you expect we'll be here?" Tom asked.
"A while," Matthew sighed. "Command is working with their Parliament on a strategy going forward to help sell the accord to the public. I expect it will be close to a month that we need to be here, maybe longer."
"Great," Tom rolled his eyes. "And what do we have to do as part of this strategy?"
"You? Nothing," Matthew said. "We don't want to ruin our chances by putting your Irish mug in the forefront."
"Yeah, well my Irish mug doesn't want any part of that lot anyway," Tom countered. "All right, I'm done. Later, lads, yeah?"
They wished Tom good night and he left for the showers. Matthew and Alex went over to the monitors to review the data from the simulations.
"What's really going on?" Alex asked. "Your mind was all over the place in there. Those kills at the end were rather…aggressive."
Matthew sighed and shook his head. "You're not going to drop this, are you?"
"Not after I saw you and Mary at odds," Alex replied.
"We're often at odds. You've seen us fight worse than that," Matthew scoffed.
"I have, but not for some time," Alex noted.
"Well, perhaps we're just getting caught up. I was down for eight months, you know," Matthew sniffed.
Alex frowned at him.
"Right, that was a bit much," Matthew acknowledged. "We had a call with Robert. They've come up with a plan to try and ease the agreement through Parliament and sell it to the people."
"And the plan is?" Alex asked.
"The plan, if you can even call it one, is for Mary and Kemal Pamuk to pretend to be romantically involved, to present this image of a couple for the people to fawn over, the personification of the union between our peoples," Matthew growled sarcastically.
Alex blinked in surprise. "That is some plan…"
"My thoughts exactly," Matthew huffed. "It's ridiculous."
"And what does Mary say about this ridiculous plan?" Alex asked.
Matthew snorted. "What's even more ridiculous is that she's actually considering it."
"Well, it is her duty to do so," Alex noted. "It's a directive from Command, after all."
"Yes, but the final decision rests with Mary," Matthew clarified.
"And not with you?" Alex questioned.
Matthew sighed as they glanced over the simulation data floating before them. "She has made it clear that it will be her decision and hers alone."
"I suppose that's fair. It isn't as if you consulted her when you took that spy mission on Sortos," Alex shrugged.
"That was hardly the same thing," Matthew frowned. "I wasn't ordered to take up a fake romance with anyone for that mission."
"You almost had to. What was the name of the Prince's daughter, again?" Alex thought aloud.
"Stana," Matthew answered. "Her name was Stana and there was no romance."
"I don't think that Mary was too pleased with how you had to escort the Princess to that celebration ball, if I recall correctly," Alex continued.
Matthew snorted and turned away from the monitor. "What are you trying to say? I should allow this? I should be all right with my girlfriend posing as though she belongs to another man?"
"I'm not saying you should be all right with it, but this isn't about you and your girlfriend, it's about a mission to save the deal between two empires," Alex answered. "You can disagree with the plan and still support Mary and her right to go through with it, is what I'm saying."
"How would you feel if Anna had to pose as the lover of Kemal Pamuk?" Matthew challenged. "Would you be all supportive still?"
"I would be angry, yes," Alex nodded. "But I wouldn't allow my anger to alienate myself from my wife. Mary is likely conflicted over this as well. Don't drive her into the arms of another man by being a complete idiot about it."
Matthew took a deep breath and scowled as they headed to the locker room. "It seems to me she's going to be in another man's arms whether I drive her there or not."
"Then you must trust her to know herself and know her heart," Alex replied. "You can't shield her from every man and woman who lusts after her. That would encompass most of the…"
Matthew glared at him.
"It's a lot of people, I'm just saying," Alex stopped himself, raising his hand. "Come on, Mary has been chased after since before we were in the Academy. You've always been able to deal with that. Do it again now."
"I just thought that we were past all of that, the whole charade of Mary being nothing more than a pretty face, a trophy," Matthew grumbled.
"She's far more than that, yes, and that's why you shouldn't have anything to fear," Alex advised.
"Right," Matthew muttered unconvincingly.
When Matthew finally arrived back at his quarters, he found Mary standing up and staring at the television projector, a frown on her face. The news anchor was standing in the middle of the living room, waving his hands and looking serious.
'The government is having a difficult time keeping the uneasy alliance in Parliament united. The much maligned accord with the British has flared years of discontent with the President's leadership, such that some extremists are calling for his resignation. The cabinet continues to present a united front, sticking to their position that the way forward for New Byzantium is through a partnership with the British, however it is looking more and more likely that this administration may not survive to see the fulfilment of that pledge…'
"Sounds like the situation is getting more and more tenuous," Matthew commented, coming into the room and undoing his jacket.
"The government is struggling worse than we expected," Mary shook her head. "End broadcast."
The news program vanished and Mary went over to the bar to fetch her glass of wine. She poured Matthew a cup of sparkling water with lime and brought it to him.
"Thank you," he nodded, taking a long sip of the cold drink.
"I spoke to Kemal today," she advised, turning and heading over to sit down on the sofa.
"Did you?" he replied evenly. "And what is his view on things?"
"He echoed much of what Papa told us," she answered. "He said that there is internal pressure within the government to move ahead with the plan. That's who thought of the idea in the first place – some image management department they have."
"I see," he nodded.
"So, it wasn't Kemal's idea," she continued. "He's just as much a pawn in this as I am."
"I doubt that," he grunted, coming over and joining her.
She frowned at him.
"Regardless of the origin of the idea, I'm sure he's hardly vexed by having to play your boyfriend is the point," he explained, sipping his water.
"Are you jealous?" she asked. "You know that you have no need to be."
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, measuring his words for a moment. "It's not that I'm jealous of Kemal Pamuk. I just don't see this being as successful a gambit as others do, I suppose."
"I don't know how successful it will be, really," she agreed, setting her wine glass down.
"But you're willing to try," he noted. "You're going to do it."
She reached over and took his hand in hers. Swallowing tightly, she finally looked up and held his gaze.
"I love you," she declared. "You know that."
"You've proven that more than you ought to have had to," he acknowledged.
"We're not politicians, and we're not diplomats," she explained. "We're here to represent Britain but there is so very little we can do. We can't make speeches or negotiate with ministers, lobby for votes or debate the merits of the accord."
"That's what Evelyn was here for," he mumbled.
"Yes," she nodded. "And now he's dead and for whatever reason, this plan is what has been put forward to save his legacy. I must do everything in my power to help. This is something I can do. This is a role that I can play, and if it works, then his death will still be a tragedy, but it won't be entirely in vain."
He looked down at their joined hands.
"I'm not asking you to approve," she said softly, leaning towards him. "I'm not asking you to be all right with it. You're angry and disappointed and I understand. You think this is all unfair and it is. But…"
"You feel it's something you must do all the same," he finished.
She nodded slowly. "Yes, I do."
He brought her hand up and kissed her fingers.
"If he tries anything with you, I'm going to kill him," he promised, looking at her intently.
She smiled. "He won't, and if he does, I'll be fine. I can handle some skinny politician."
He smiled for the first time since the conference call with Robert. "Skinny politician?"
"Yes, he's quite scrawny, isn't he? And he has a bit of the look of a rat in his face," she noted.
He grinned. "He does, yes."
She smiled and kissed him softly. "You can't possibly think that I would ever, ever be attracted to Kemal Pamuk, do you? He's not entirely not my type."
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't generally ponder what other men you might be attracted to."
She chuckled and turned towards him, sliding across his lap and straddling his hips.
"Well, I'm rather partial to blonds," she said, arching her eyebrow before she kissed him again. "Blonds with blue eyes that I could get lost in, power and authority oozing from every pore."
"Oozing?" he repeated, his hands moving to her hips.
"Mmm hmm," she nodded. "The type of man who doesn't get caught up in petty displays of strength or acts possessive because he knows just how good he truly is, and how mad I would have to be to even think of another man over him."
"I'm good, am I?" he teased, he pulling her towards him slightly.
"Mmm," she grinned, flexing her hips. "So very, very good."
They kissed, holding each other close as her tongue slipped past his lips. She purred into his mouth at the feel of his arousal against her, and her fingers moved to undo his shirt.
"Do you know what else I find attractive in a man, darling?" she asked, kissing her way over to his ear.
"What's that?" he grunted.
"It's rather shallow of me, I know, but I absolutely crave a man who knows how to fuck the hell out of me and leave me a panting, sweaty mess," she whispered, licking his ear playfully. "Someone who makes me scream myself hoarse yelling his name."
He groaned as she rubbed against him provocatively.
"What I would do for a man like that," she growled against his skin. "What I would let him do to me."
"Mary," he breathed.
"Yes, my darling?" she asked, kissing his neck.
"Hands behind your back. Now," he ordered.
She bit her lip and hurried to obey.
Private Residence of Kemal Pamuk, New Byzantium, Milky Way Galaxy, April 2199
"She's agreed," Kemal nodded, looking out the window. "I'm going to visit the Andromeda to meet with her and she'll be brought her by the end of the week."
"We can arrange for various photo opportunities – we'll start with the two of you being spotted heading into Parliament together, then gradually work in meals and dates out and about in the city," the assistant stated, swiping her fingers over her tablet.
"I want the first two weeks to go smoothly," he commanded. "Ensure that her suite is down the hall and away from mine. Fill it with various tokens from Earth so she'll feel more comfortable."
"Their crew will want to inspect it in advance, most likely," the assistant warned.
"Let them," he smiled. "Nothing will be happening in there anyway."
The assistant nodded. "When shall you bring her to the bath house?"
"The third week, once the buzz and gossip reaches its height," he replied. "What did the analysis of her last visit show?"
"She's going to be difficult to get through to," the assistant replied. "However, we expect with enough visits, reprogramming should be straightforward eventually."
"We'll have a small window. Make sure you can accomplish it over three sessions at most. We likely will only get two shots at it – once for suggestion, and a second for embedding. I dare not risk having to invent excuses to bring her back numerous times," he explained.
"There will be a detail assigned to her, I expect," the assistant stated. "What about them?"
He waved his hand dismissively. "I can get her away from her chaperones long enough to carry out my plans. Once she's on my side, it will be too late for them to do anything."
"Yes, Minister," the assistant finished, putting her tablet away.
"Now, where is your friend?" he asked, a devious smile on his lips.
The assistant bowed her head submissively. "She's tied up in the bedroom waiting for you."
"Good. Go on in and get undressed. I'll be with the two of you shortly," he nodded.
"Yes, Minister," the assistant acknowledged before turning and walking away.
He looked back out to the evening scene below him, the bright lights of the Entertainment District glowing like a living mass before him, pulsing with energy and promise.
"Lady Mary Crawley, First Wife," he said softly, a grin filling his face. "Now that does have a ring to it."