Chapter Fourteen: United Systems of Whatever

“Report in, admiral.”

Admiral Morgan-Giles saluted. “Sir. We have Schwarzwyrmkommando ships stationed in Wendauer, to support our friend Adamus. But sir, I must admit they are severely understaffed. Very few Silberwyrmritters could be ‘converted’…”

“I see. Reassign men from other Military branches to the SWK.”

“Sir. That could compromise the quality of the SWK. They are pretty proud of their heritage…”

“They are traitors, damnit. Tell them that. The best among them are now dead.”

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After they left their friends, Miriam, Gauss and Whutty bought a used piece of junk of a ship that had once been a Class-IV PermaThaw multitask corvette but since its better days all the pieces had been changed at least once, meaning it was not at all the same ship it began as.

It was also nondescript and rugged. The local black marketer did a fine job installing hidden torpedoes and a stealthy force field. They had a slight chance of infiltrating Gamezoha Prime with that.

It was painted all black. Whutty had been in charge of the modifications.

“I am so not flying in that. It looks like a coffin,” complained Gauss.

“It’ll probably be our coffin, since we’ll die in dhere and stuff,” said Whutty, optimistically.

Miriam shivered slightly. Whutty made her feel inappropriate. Jon had been all lost, but the pilot had already been found… by something horrible.

“If we die, we’d be responsible for the suffering of billions. Can’t you see that?” she asked, hopelessly.

“Don’t tempt me, ma’am.”

“Heh, who’d think I’d ever be the one to say this, but… you two, stop bickering,” said Gauss, smirking.

Miriam looked at him. He couldn’t guess what she was thinking. “I’ll go get some supplies for our journey,” she said.

Gauss nodded. “We’ll go looking for you if you take longer than one hour.” After she left, he added. “To rescue whoever tried to attack you, the poor sods.”

Whutty looked in his eyes. “You seem to be taking dhis too well.”

“Taking what well?” asked Gauss, innocently, avoiding eye contact.

“You know. Her death.”

“Oh, that. Things will work out yet. They always do, for me,” added Gauss, with a shrug.

“Are you stupid or somedhing? You’re supposed to be crying and all dhat. You know dhe drill. You’ve been around me enough,” completed Whutty.

Gauss faced his friend. “I can’t be bothered. That would not help me getting my empire back. I have to think about the Galaxy.”

“Screw the Galaxy,” said Whutty, irritably. “You ‘can’t be bodhered’? Are you listening to yourself?”

“Calm down, old friend. I’ve got my reasons,” said Gauss, touching gently Whutty’s shoulder. He was likely the only person alive who could do that and not be maimed with a serrated knife afterwards.

“Dhey’d better be good ones, dhough,” muttered the silberwalder, climbing up the ship’s side for a final check-up.

Gauss leaned against the ship and breathed deeply. When he was sure he was alone, he fainted.

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Dr. Hilton, PhD, finished inserting the last data from the Pyramid’s reading into the computer. He pressed enter.

“Oh, my fucking Einstein…”

He stood up. He turned his head. There it sat, its unblinking eye curiously examining the movement of the hundreds of PhDs around it. It did not correspond to what the estimates seemed to mathematically imply.

Yet there could be no doubt.

He had to escape.

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“How long has he been like this?” asked Miriam.

“How should I know? You found him like dhis,” said Whutty.

Miriam didn’t reply. She was finding no pulse in Gauss’s limp body, but wasn’t sure she should be find one, either.

“Is he dead? He’s dead, isn’t he,” said Whutty.

“I detect brain activity,” answered Miriam.

“I’ll try to find a doctor.”

“There is none in this asteroid. I’ve checked.”

“Well, what now dhen?”

“There is…” Miriam’s closed eyes flickered briefly. “A wise man named Achyuta. Maybe he can help.”

Whutty started to walk towards the town and stopped. “Uh. I can’t leave him alone widh you. He’s a wounded officer and you aren’t… are… er…” her glare was so emotionless Whutty remembered why he didn’t like mirrors. “I dhink I’ll just go.”

Miriam turned to Gauss. She touched his skin, sending nanobots into his bloodstream. Their reports were clear: no physical damage was causing this illness.

She called back the nanobots. Suddenly Gauss sat up and grabbed her wrist.

“You won’t want my lifeforce in you. I know I, at least,” he said with a faint smile, “don’t trust you enough for that.” He released his grip and sat back against the ship, eyes closed, breathing slowly. “Don’t trust… you…” he mumbled.

Miriam looked at him with concern. She wasn’t sure he had noticed, but the strength with which he held her wrist would have crushed a normal human’s bones. She almost hit him back in reflex.

And then he’d be dead.

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CEO Riley of Lucifuge Corporation smiled. The United Systems government defense budget for StarYear 1 a.J. was fourteen million teradollars. If used to buy big sticks, it could buy five times the mass of the galaxy in big sticks.

60% would go to Lucifuge Corporation.

It could be better, Riley reasoned. In the imperial times, Lucifuge had the monopoly. The defense budget might even be larger, depending on the emperor’s aggressiveness.

On the other hand, Joel was keeping the masses well-entertained. Had given the corporations more freedom to do as they pleased. Yes, he was a very good ruler.

Riley wondered, still. Most of the equipment was directed towards internal policing and repression. As if Joel wasn’t planning a war. That wasn’t nice. He might have to put some pressure on him, after all.

He shivered.

Hmm… he thought. I’m starting to see why my predecessors invented democracy…

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“Dhat’s him. Dhe sleeping guy,” said Whutty to the little bald sage. “Or dead. Probably dead. Lucky bastard.”

The old monk crouched next to Gauss, but looked at Miriam. She met his eyes. There was a moment of recognition. The monk smiled.

“Jay kamala-patraksha Janardana, purushottama Jagannivasa,” greeted the monk, lowering his head respectfully.

Miriam computed this instantly. “Greetings o lotus-eyed Liberator of Men, all-pervading Refuge of the Universe?”

The monk’s smile widened. “So your companion needs assistance, Vishnu avatar?”

Miriam looked at Gauss. “Yes. He does.”

The monk nodded and inclined over Gauss’s body. His palms hovered over him for a moment. When he pulled them away, they were scorched. Whutty gasped. “What dhe fuck?”

The monk grimaced. “Your friend is very sick. His Anahat Chakra was for too long pivotal in his balance, and for some reason, it can no longer function. His Kundalini… it’s as strong as a dragon (Whutty and Miriam exchanged glances), and now, its channel blocked, it’s writhing within him, damaging him physically. I’ve never seen such a Kundalini. He could easily become the most powerful sadhu if he embraces ahimsa… or a terrible rakshasa if he chooses maya. It will all depend on his choice, yajna or kama.”

“Oh, great. Ask a holy man for help and he’ll spill bizarre words on you,” mumbled Whutty.

“And you need to work on that Agnya Chakra yourself. She’ll be yours only after your own yajna.”

Whutty almost jumped on the little monk’s throat. Miriam held him back his her left hand. “What do you know about Her, wretched little…”

Miriam spoke softly, interrupting Whutty’s fit. “I think I understand what you said, but what about his present sickness?”

“He’ll recover by himself in a few hours. He’ll have these weaknesses every week or so, but every time more often unless he tames the dragon within.”

Miriam nodded. The little man stood up.

“I shall now leave. Your companion is a most formidable entity. Your coming does indeed accompany wondrous times, o Arisudana.”

As he walked away, Whutty caught up with him. “Dhe dhing you said… is dhat about dhe sacrifice?”

“Oh, so you knew? That is good,” the old monk smiled.

“A gypsy bit-… craz-… strange woman read my cards. I’m covered by dhe Tower. I dhink it’s about dhe Rocket.”

“Oh? How interesting.”

“It links my family’s Hod with Gauss’s Netzach, some odher guy told me.”

“Amazing.”

“I’m crossed by the queen of cups. Dhat’s… obvious for me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“All dhat’s nice and cool… but why my future card is deadh? Dhat’s SO predictable…”

The monk patted him on the back. Whutty didn’t react. “There, there, boy. I’m sorry. That might mean something besides the obvious. Just don’t fight the inevitable. The Dharma hates that,” said the monk compassionately.

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High Templar Rockthriller of the Bankers’ Federation planned the transport of President Joel’s personal fortune to safehouses throughout the galaxy, and made sure they couldn’t be traced back to the Republic’s coffers whence they came.

He was a gnome. Not physically a gnome, of course, but affiliated to the Axiomatic Zurich Truly Enlightened Cabal of Hod. Although popular belief is that the AZTECH concerns itself only with greedy, materialistic issues, in fact they have a much more important goal in mind.

The flow of energy, in general.

The fact that most of the universe’s energy was in the form of money was secondary.

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“Mother?”

Miriam smiled a little. “Close guess.”

“Oh, it’s you,” said Gauss. He laughed and stood up. “Ok, let’s go before I feel like shit again.”

Miriam said nothing. They entered the ship. Whutty was already at the pilot’s seat.

“I pilot, Raketemensch.”

“No way, you’re wounded. Dhis is my life and dhough it sucks, I ain’t letting you risk it.”

“I feel perfect now.”

“Says you. I don’t trust you anymore,” said Whutty, bitterly. It was his way of being relieved that Gauss was fine.

Gauss sat at the co-pilot’s seat. “Well then, here we go. This will be so easy it’s not even funny,” he said, grinning. “Let’s wish for an eventful flight.”

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Agent Maximille of the Triple Eye (Imperial Investigation Institute) checked Hilton’s file again. An expert in parachronic physics. Master in quantum kinetics. His PhD was the result of the most extensive study in metaphysical warfare - Cthulhu Unbound: How To Defeat The Hordes Of Pure Evil With One National Guard Division.

His writings were the cornerstone of the Inhuman Affairs Revolution in the Gamezohan Army and the basic doctrine of the PSY-SQUAD.

He was recently assigned to project Tetrahedral Righteousness.

A very dangerous man, and missing.

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Gauss’s wish was answered. They were slowly making way through pure inertia across the fourth layer of Gamezohan space defenses when they crossed the path between an aquarium satellite and a bioscanner. The bioscanner captured the absence of life and correctly attributed it to stealth shielding. It notified the automated defense systems.

“Oh,” said Whutty, releasing the controls. “We’re dead.”

“What?” asked Gauss. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. We’ve been locked in. Dhey found us.”

“Oh,” agreed Gauss. “We’re dead.”

They were hit by a pulse of brilliant energy.

“Well then, this could be worse,” said Gauss, as the ship plunged in flames towards the planet’s surface at many times the speed of sound.

“It always can,” said Whutty, glumly. “But not much.”

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The supervisor software was as pleased as non-sentient software ever got. It decided the target had been thoroughly dealt with, so there was no point logging this event.

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“Retro dhrusters in dhree… two… one… retro dhrusters activated.”

“Thrusters incurring structural damage. Total loss in twelve seconds or less.”

“Activating liquid helium sprinklers.”

“Sprinklers on,” confirmed Gauss. “Outer hull shattering. Losing momentum.”

“Activate first parachute.” Nothing happened. “Gauss? Parachute.”

“I’ve activated it. The sensors indicate it was released.”

“Damn, we’re so fast we didn’t even feel it tearing off.”

“Left airfoil liquefied. We’re out of guidance,” said Gauss, and started humming a happy song.

“Ok, prepare for a brief touch in dhe right one,” said Whutyt. “Increase oxygen flux into our masks.”

Gauss did as requested. Suddenly the ship began spinning.

“Ok, decelerating monstrously. Many G’s,” said Gauss, now whistling happily. “Whutty? Oh.” The pilot had passed out. Gauss remembered he was in near-human form.

He looked back. Miriam was staring at him. He was startled. She had no oxygen masks, no flak suits with liquid helium cooling the otherwise vaporizing heat-

-she was strong.

“Well I’ll be damned… No way I’ll let her think she’s the almighty one here,” he said. He released the chutes, one by one, decelerating only mildly. The right foil had been torn out. The ship was a rock.

He smirked briefly. “Time to be cool,” he thought.

He released the seatbelt and took off the flak armor, nonchalantly. He was trying to see Miriam’s reaction, to see if she knew what he would do, to see in her eyes whether she believed she could survive this without him.

He read nothing.

He changed to battleform and jumped to a crater in the ship’s rear. As he got out, he was nearly blown away by the wind. He stuck his claws in the ship’s inner structure, changed to full dragon form and opened his wings.

He believed they would be torn from his body. He tried to recite a mantra to ignore the pain, but it failed. It was then he started savoring the pain.

“Look at me,” he thought. “If I let go, who dies? One who does not wish to live anyway, and a machine I’m not sure I care about. Yet here I am, close to death. Should I die for their sins? I would, wouldn’t I. Choose death over life for a cause? Self-destruction? I might be onto something here,” he smirked as only a multi-toothed dragon can. “Of course I’ll save them. Am I not so much better than they are?”

Some of his scales had been plucked from his flesh. He couldn’t close his eyes. He felt the warmth around his body. Heat could not harm him… he laughed when he remembered that. He would someday do as his grandfather had and go to the sun for a swim in its fiery clouds.

Look at me. All this time, only a human. I could have been this. A God. I now understand why my people call me that. With a flicker of my wrist, I can do magic humans take centuries to master. Anything I spend a century mastering is beyond the power of a human.

When I get my kingdom back, the first thing I’m doing is reinstating the maiden sacrifices.

Gauss grinned to himself some more. The ship in front of him was disintegrating, little pieces of metal breaking off from the hull and hitting him. He was already bleeding at several places.

A human that tasted this blood would be able to fly, it wouldn’t age for a century, its progeny would be blessed with inhuman intelligence and strength. No wonder I didn’t let that… thing… experience it. Experience the power.

The power of that blood, which denied him his beloved. That blood, of which he was the guardian. It was his. It was him. Draco blood, fae blood. Never to be mixed until the Reckoning. They held, safe from human pettiness, the raw power for that Day. Might and magic.

Why should I, however, give it away to a human that day? A mere human, in its ephemeral spasm of life? Am I not more qualified? More merciful? I, who have not ever doubted right and wrong? Gauss, the good… Yes, that’d be me.

Gauss felt the strength in his wings disappearing. He was sick. He crawled over the ship, right now only very slightly bigger than him, cradled his tattered wings around himself, and hugged the ship. He had slowed it down as he could. The autopilot would do its pitiful best, and his body would break the fall.

Krystal… ah, you were all. You and I, my love, what beautiful eternity we could have lived together. Your blood, as godly as mine… why couldn’t your body be as indestructible as mine…

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“I am Gauss’s blood. I long for Reunion. I bring Might.”

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Miriam stepped out of the fuming remains of the ship. If she had been injured, she wasn’t anymore. She had already checked on Whutty, injecting in him a fair dose of nanobots, even though the impact womb goo had protected him remarkably well.

She saw Gauss’s huge bulk half buried in the crater. She took a few milliseconds to examine his forms.

His thick, muscular neck was bleeding in several spots. His mouth, wide open, revealed rows and rows of shark-like teeth. His wide, sturdy and now tattered wings were bat-like, unlike other dragons’, usually frilled. Instead of a crest, his head had what would appear to be a dense, stiff mane of steel wire. Two long horns, as tough as thyberium, extended from the rear of his skull. His scales had not yet begun to look like liquid metal as they would in a few hundred years, when he’d appear to be a single huge drop of nanomachinery…

Miriam shivered at the thought. She approached him.

“Not one step closer, machine,” said Gauss, without opening his eyes.

“You need help,” said Miriam, not taking notice of the insult.

Gauss sighed. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” he said.

“I can see you’re in pain.”

“Pain is good. Very good. Let me enjoy it. When I tire of pain, I’ll do something about it.”

Miriam looked around. She noticed there was only one place in the universe they could be in. The silver forest.

“Yeah, home sour home,” said Whutty, still scraping goo off his uniform. “I almost missed dhis place.”

“Are you well?”

“No. But physically, I dhink I am.” Whutty looked at Gauss. “Oh. Mr. Perfect saves dhe day, huh.”

Miriam said nothing. And then they heard a voice crying out from the woods:

“You are under arrest!”

Miriam rechecked her body’s integrity. She hadn’t heard the enemies approaching. Whutty saw the puzzlement in her face.

“See, dhey are Silberwaldstaffen. Dhey make no sound until dhey are upon you. And dhen you’re dead or captured,” he added with a sigh, and raised his hands.

Miriam clenched her fists.

Thirty guards came out of the woods. More were in treetops. Dozens of red dots of light were on Miriam’s face, steady, held by firm experienced hands.

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Count Vasdhra Sphexoren’s execution was exemplary. Faithful to the Gauss dynasty and the Empire, he resisted the coup until Joel deployed the Space Marines, who seized Castle Sphexoren in a long, bloody battle.

“Last words? Of course I have last words. You people suck. Immensely. No, really, just for a few more slices of bread and circus every afternoon you betray the noblest rulers a nation could hope for? Really, you fuckers are so attached to life it’s disgusting. You don’t know when to die. Let me tell you. You people should die now. Fuckers.”

He was then drawn, quartered and hung. But it wasn’t very funny anymore.

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“Keep your hands where I can see dhem,” said an officer, walking in their direction, weapon hanging by its shoulder harness, preparing a set of handcuffs.

Ignoring Miriam’s non-compliance, he cuffed Whutty first. “You have dhe right to not compromise yourself with your statements. Her Ladyship will assign you a defender. Do you carry any weapons, electronic devices, biological or chemical hazardous substances, are you or have you been contaminated widh a contagious form of self-replicating biot, or affiliated to an order or society that teaches anarchy, ungamezohan doctrines or any form of guerilla warfare or terrorism?”

Whutty shook his head. By now, the guard had finished searching him. The others stood almost motionless, their guns still pointed threateningly, in stark contrast with the bureaucratic boredom in the arresting officer’s voice.

“By dhe way, are you a Gamezohan citizen?”

Whutty nodded slowly.

“What’s your Damocles registration id?”

“G-T-H, Thirteen thousand, six hundred, sixty-six.”

“GTH? A silberwalder?” asked the officer, suspiciously. “We’ll see about that,” he said, typing the number in a numeric pad attached to his forearm. The computer spoke:

“GTH-13666, Ricardus Whutty, alias Raketemensch. House Sphexoren. Ex-Wing Commander in the Star Fleet, Dishonorable Discharge. Many times recipient of the Medal of Heroism, among others. Outlawed by decree #5,804 of President Joel. Extremely Dangerous. Code black - Terminate With Maximum Prejudice.”

Whutty sighed. “Yeees, that’s me.”

Miriam breathed heavily, preparing to possibly battle all these soldiers. She could do it. Maybe.

The officer, however, did not draw his gun, but pressed a button in his helmet: “Your Ladyship? You won’t believe this…”

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Agent Maximille searched Dr. Hilton’s house. He found a diary. The last entry read:

“Fuck, what the fucking fuck did I fucking help these fuckers do?”

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A small blue helicopter landed close to where the guards were dismantling the wreckage holding Gauss to the crater. His wounds closed as the pieces of metal were pulled out of his body, and as he healed, he could aid in his release, so the process went acceleratingly faster.

A woman came out of the helicopter, escorted by two bodyguards in black suits. Lieutenant Kreuz, in charge of the UFO capture operation, recognized his ruler and, as all normal males did in her presence, wondered what he could do to deposit some of his DNA in one of her orifices.

He had already managed to shake that thought off, however, by the time she spoke to him.

“Lieutenant. How are our visitors?”

“The prince is almost free, we don’t think he’ll even need medical treatment. Lysander’s boy and one unidentified woman were with him.”

“You must hasten. President Joel might have intercepted your id query.”

“I’m sorry, Your Ladyship.”

She smiled. “No, you acted correctly, Lieutenant. Now, can you please escort me to the prince’s location?”

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“President, we have a situation.”

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“One, two, now!” The soldiers pulled, raising the twisted hull, exposing Gauss’s mauled flank. He groaned as the wound closed itself so fast not a single drop of blood hit the ground.

He stood up, his elegant tail coiling around him, and walked out of the crater, under the awed gaze of his subjects.

He saw the local governor walking to meet him. He captured the scene in his mind, froze thought-time, and took the time to examine it.

The bodyguards are pretty skilled, Kubrik yojimbo school. Both carry x-pulse handguns. Ruggierio suits. Ghoule sunglasses, I want some of those. Apparently a new model, too. Right… the woman. Ok, from the way she moves, she’s got the kind of assassin training we can expect of all gamezohan noblewomen… I actually have to be careful around her. No, wait, she’s even better than at first glance… who is her? White wolf skin cape, diamonds and thyberium jewelry, heh, that necklace looks more like a collar, right, now her features… short, slick blond hair, dark eyelashes, pure pratician bloodline, definitely House Ticine, Endar family, I’d say, from the scary golden eyes… she’s around eighteen, maybe younger, meh, I wonder what I could do to get some of my DNA… wait… focus, focus. Very intelligent, slightly mocking smile, who does she remind me of? I’ve seen her in court… Duke Tyler Endar Ticine, the great Shipwright. She looks like him. Maybe the daughter? Good Duke Tyler… Damn, he probably died at the coup. So this is now… the duchess?

“Your Highness,” she said, curtsying.

He nodded in recognition. “Duchess Ticine.”

“You can call me Nicolette,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, so it is you. It’s been a while.”

“I must admit that since your Highness’s commitment to Windsong of Wendauer, my father had fewer reasons to attend the Imperial Court.”

“Your father. I esteemed him. How was his death?”

“Befitting his personality,” Nicolette said, her smile slightly thinner. “He took many with him.”

Gauss had slowly changed from dragon to human. He put his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I’m glad the bastards let you live.”

“They had to, though. I threatened to cut the Silberwalder ley lines. They didn’t risk calling my bluff,” she said, proudly.

She could be a powerful ally, thought Gauss. I wonder how many of the other House Lords I’ll find equally helpful.

“Nicolette, I see no point in feigning power, since I am obviously powerless. I need your help to rebuild the Empire, to punish these criminals, to free our people.”

The Duchess nodded. “I know. I have been hoping for an opportunity like this. Wernher, I… the empire needs you as much as you need it.”

Strange, he thought. She sounded political, cool, yet now it’s as if a mask has been dropped…

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Joel was in the war room. Very unpleased. He passed his eyes over the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Each one of them a backstabbing bastard who couldn’t do his job. All the good officers were either too ‘untrustworthy’ to be given positions of power because of their former allegiances, or dead.

“Mr. President,” began the Field Marshall of the USG Army. “These reports from Wendauer are troubling. International unity is threatened.”

Joel shot the man. “Anyone else is going to state the obvious?”

“Sir, with all due respect, a review on the budget prospects for this fiscal year may be in order. We might need assault ships, planet busters, biological weaponry, combat druids… they are tapping Elder God power. Even though the Space Marine Corps is, as always, ready to engage any kind of monstrosity…”

“That’s enough, High Commander. The budget remains as-is. This report assures me that PSY-SQUAD can deal with these pseudo-evil thingies easily, with the Hilton-Zaratov insanity-proof trance.”

“That information is entirely correct, sir, but…” Admiral Morgan-Giles shrank beneath Joel’s gaze. “…have you heard of the Terracota Protocol?”

Joel narrowed his eyes. “Terracota what?”

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“The Terracota Protocol,” said Gauss, proudly, “is the last line of defense of the Empire. It consists of a pocket dimension, accessible only through draconic magic, using the Scepter of Gamezoha as a focus. In that dimension, our best, most loyal warriors are in cryo-sleep, waiting to be used by the Emperor in a counter-coup. Our most elite units, the Silver Berets, PSY-SQUAD and Seventh Wing, remain there, safe from Moebius’ machinations.”

“So what we need is the Scepter,” said Whutty.

“If we want a bloodbath,” said Nicolette. The word ‘bloodbath’ looked very appropriate in her lips. “No doubt these guys can overthrow Joel, but until we re-pacify the Empire, we won’t be in a condition to stop whatever it is Moebius set in motion.”

“You’re right, of course. We have to win the peace, not the war. I imagine you have a suggestion?”

“Win the elections.”

Gauss blinked. “What?”

“After you win, Joel will either give you control over the USG, making the shift back to Empire easy, or he’ll have to drop the republican façade. Tradition will then kick in, and you’ll be handed power on a plate,” concluded the Duchess.

Gauss nodded. “You’re clever,” he said, smiling.

Did she blush slightly more than court girlishness mandates?

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“Max, we found Dr. Hilton.”

“Is he dead,” stated Maximille, lighting a cigarette.

“Yes. It wasn’t us, though.”

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“Aren’t we forgetting somedhing? Joel might simply send butchers after us.”

“He wouldn’t dare use the USGSMC or the Army inside our territory. Whatever else he might use, you can count on my Silberwaldstaffen.”

“I’ll need more help to be elected, though. Joel’s become pretty popular, while I tried to maintain a harmless public persona which doesn’t quite help right now.”

“We’re lucky. I have a guest who may prove to be godsent,” said Nicolette. “Lieutenant, let her in, please.”

Kreuz nodded and opened the door. “Miss Chromelips? The Duchess requires your presence now.”

She entered. Whutty blinked. “You!…”

Gauss stood up to hug the newcomer. He was genuinely happy. “Lips. It’s been one long, sad time since your last show. How was that tour over the Galaxy?”

The rocker smiled. “They loved me.”

“As they should,” said Gauss. “I’d put them to sword if they didn’t,” he added, chuckling.

“I missed you. And you,” she added, pointing at Whutty, who just squirmed. She laughed.

“What brought you here? I don’t think even Joel would threaten you.”

“Even a rocker has to have principles and draw the line somewhere. Joel wanted me for a certain kind of personal entertainment… your sister was a temptation, yes, (Whutty made a sad unintelligible noise) but I eventually decided I couldn’t side with those bastards.”

“So I offered through the Resistance’s… ‘channels’… extraction and asylum,” said Nicolette. “I’ve always been a fan of ChromeDome myself. As most Gamezohans…”

“Hint, hint,” said Chromelips, smiling.

“I think I see,” said Gauss, something gleeful lighting in his eyes. “So I’ll just have to pick up my old guitar, will I?”

“Like the Sword in the Stone, pretty much. Rocker-King. I guess that’s what my next album will be called…”

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“Gruesome scene,” said Max. “Is any part of him missing?”

“Perhaps. The guys from New Arkham P.D. were given jurisdiction by the mayor.”

“I see. I hope they find something,” the detective sounded doubtful.

“Yes… well… what do you figure happened here?” asked the cop.

“Off the record?”

“Sure.”

“Doc makes a ritual to contact the evil things. One evil thing comes through. He is here on his knees, begging it to listen to what he has to say. It ignores his pleas and kills him. It’s its loss.”

The policeman sipped his coffee. After a while, he asked: “You didn’t deduce all this from the blood marks, did you?”

“Nope, that’s what he said in his diary.”

“Ah.” Sip. “So… what was so important that he desperately took this enormous risk and stuff to warn cthulpeople?”

Max lit another cigarette. “If I told you, you’d be Involved.”

“That was a capital I, wasn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Right. Carry on then,” said the policeman, walking away.

Max watched the torn remains of the scientist shrivel slowly, smoking and squirming.

It made him hungry, so he bought some noodles on the way to the Kubrik Museum.

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“What’s our standing with the Lords of the Houses?”

“House Aberdash is leaderless. Most others are siding with the usurper. The exception… you’ll be pleasantly surprised… is Baron Rockthriller.”

“What, dhat old pig?” said Whutty, a hint of anger in his voice.

“Yes. He has been financing the Resistance for some reason. He’s unreliable, but he’s all we’ve got. And considering his wealth, that’s a lot.”

Gauss nodded. “I think I know his motives. The AZTECH are concerned with the flow of telluric energy. Whatever Moebius is planning, it will require a lot of that.”

“Telluric whatnow?”

“Magical thingy. The Blood of the Universe, so to speak,” said Gauss. Before anyone could ask for details, he asked: “What’s the standing with Lucifuge Corp.?”

“They are supporting Joel’s cause with enthusiasm. The current CEO, Riley, is an old acquaintance. We can’t expect any heroism from him.”

“I see.” Gauss ticked another item in his list. “Lastly, the People’s Parliament. How many seats the Imperialist Party has?”

“Twenty-two. We can also count the twenty of the Nationalist Party. They became upset with the end of the war against Wendauer.”

“Damn, I hate dhose bastards.”

“Me too, Raketemensch, me too. But we need all the help we can get. I trust the Roman Catholic Apostolic Party will side with us? Joel isn’t quite… angelical.”

“Yes, we can count with their vote. With their thirteen seats, we have two more than needed for a coalition government. Mr. Whutty will make a good Prime Minister.”

Gauss was surprised.

“Whutty? I was thinking maybe you would want the position as a reward…”

“No, I’ll be happy enough as First Lady.”

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Miriam did not understand why Gauss forbade her access to the Ticine Manor war room, and was experimenting something akin to anger. She left her room, just to be sure it wasn’t a cell, yet. She walked the corridors of the structure. Paintings, mainly landscapes of the Silberwald and artistic nudes, covered the walls. House Ticine, she remembered from the datalinks, was famous for its artistic vein.

She stopped, startled by something she almost walked into, distracted by the elaborate details in the architecture. It was a life-size statue of a somewhat younger Gauss, so close to the real thing she was almost expecting it to say something haughty and pretentious.

“Mighty fine work, isn’t it?” said a voice behind her.

She turned, and recognized Lt. Kreuz, whose neck she would have broken not long ago. “Who did that? The Duchess?”

Kreuz nodded. “She has this unhealthy obsession, I’m afraid. There’s a roomful of paintings, pictures and other memorabilia of him somewhere in this building.”

Miriam realized they could watch the war room through a large soundproof glass window. Kreuz noticed her attention. “I stand here guarding them. Say, you can’t read lips, can you?”

Miriam didn’t answer. Kreuz leaned against the window. “You know, this could last for days. Do you have anything to do? I mean, I know this great restaurant at Kubrik, and it’s only one hour by gravtrain… and… er…” he avoided her stare, lowering his head miserably.

“In fact, I would really like to know Kubrik,” she said, finally.

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Mitokana Plaza was actually one of the wings of the Imperial Palace. It included the Imperial Museum, the Imperial Library and a very good restaurant, Le róten orange. Due to Jungian synchronicity, its owner was a werefox named Davi Ardan.

“Well, this is it. Pretty nice joint, huh?” said Kreuz. He was pretty embarrassed. He wasn’t sure if Miriam understood this as a date at all.

If he could read minds, he’d be awfully disappointed.

Kreuz ordered a typical gamezohan dish, the anaconda au gorgonzola, for both of them. He wondered if his paycheck would survive the wine menu. Miriam seemed interested only in the window, capturing the some-why flickering, some-why blurred images of the megalopolis outside, ever throbbing, ever alive, ever blind.

And then Agent Maximille of the III, sitting in the next table, opened the Necryptozoonomicon.

“Merde,” said Davi, as a huge scaly thing that shouldn’t be oozed from a dimensional breech, swallowing patrons with the same pleasure they had experienced while being the devourers themselves.

Miriam stood up, as patrons screamed and ran away, a few of them with sufficient presence of mind to congratulate themselves on not having had to pay for the wonderful meal. Kreuz drew his sidearm, gibbering incoherently, and fired at the incoming beast.

A long pseudopodic clawy arm grabbed him. He barely had the time to feel bad about saying “shit” in front of Miriam when he was cut in half by scissor-like talons.

Max jumped in front of the thing. “Here, you ugly son of a pute! I have the book! Come get me, you piss-sucking azathoth-fucker!”

He did draw the thing’s attention. It spat stake-like teeth at him, stapling him to the restaurant’s wall. He bit his tongue. He wouldn’t be caught screaming in front of a green thing from hell.

It lumbered towards him.

“Just so you know, you fucking fucker,” he said defiantly, and pulled a torn page of Hilton’s diary from his pocket. “Know that your hatred and evil and stuff are so meaningless, stupid, idiotic, they are nothing but perfect instruments waiting for a perfect master… waiting for the Intelligence, vast, cold and unsympathetic, that can use the tell… tellur… thingy energies to bend your darkness to the unstoppable power of GAHAAHAAAGH THAT HURTS YOU BITCH AAAAAAHG…”

The beast, still gorging with some of its mouths on the remains of the human, turned a large percentage of its sensorial organs in the direction of Miriam.

She translated what Max had said into Aramaic.

The beast gurgled what could be roughly translated as “Oh, my bad” and returned whence it came.

Davi looked at his destroyed Bistro, and wondered if he still had chocolate. He’d need a lot of it.

----------------------------------------

Duchess Ticine proudly announced the return of Gauss, his candidature and his new engagement, all at once. The eyes of the Galaxy turned suddenly towards these elections, so far considered meaningless by all foreign relations analysts worth their salt.

There was a big party to launch the campaign. Joel was invited, of course, and didn’t accept the invitation, of course. Baron Rockthriller was the great surprise at the party. When informed of this, he immediately consulted the Banker’s Federation about his secret money. Their answer, unsurprisingly, was… what money?

Suddenly, all the means Joel had to fuck up the empire before handing it to Gauss were lost. Armageddon protocols were demanding the Premier’s personal codephrase. Generals previously regarded as puppets became inflexible bureaucrats. He was even having to attend JCS meetings unarmed, for Satan’s sake…

The bad news from Wendauer weren’t helping. News of the bloody revolution stirred a certain Gamezohan pride in their civilization and institutional cleanliness.

The Coronation Tour was being an incredible success. Gauss rocked towards a landslide victory, the polls indicated. Oh, how the lovelies swooned and sighed over the incredible duets he could make with Chromelips, him the paradigm of Shock Rock, statesman and superstar, her the chameleon the Galaxy had come to love, perhaps the most unanimous sex symbol since that zifrayan chick with the psychic powers and the pheromones, but she doesn’t count.

Whutty, of course, watched it all with whimpering love and no small amount of self-hatred. His military record granted him an advantage against Joel’s proposed Prime Minister, the obnoxious Admiral Morgan-Giles. However, his real advantage was his father’s name: Sky Marshall Lysander Whutty von Sphexoren was regarded as one of the most cunning military minds of Gamezohan history, no small thing in a nation where great generals are deified.

Nicolette had her own, more traditional means of gaining the public’s affection. Her lady-like, charming girlishness contrasted brutally with Nike’s notorious raving orgies, now legendary in the people’s fantasies. Overall, her public relations skills could have ensured a victory even in more negative circumstances.

Indeed did many things come to cross Joel.

----------------------------------------

“Moebius, I need your help. We have to stop Gauss.”

“Nah… heehee. All is good, quoth the raving moron. Rameses the Second, my friend. Sacrifice the king for a checkmate.”

“What?”

“You are like a smurf. Smurf on, little ant! Smurf on!”

Joel blinked. Moebius was playing with a plush reindeer.

He stepped back. Suddenly he turned and ran away in panic.

----------------------------------------

It was pretty good, for a last desperate effort.

Nike had appeared out of nowhere, pulling her brother from his chair, blade against neck. Joel entered, smiling, escorted by a pair of elite Schwarzwyrmkommandos.

“Ah. My brother-in-law and company. What a joyous family reunion this is.”

Always grinning. That’d be pathetic, if it wasn’t so threatening right now, thought Gauss, pressed tightly against his sister’s body, which, we must agree, wasn’t so terrible a fate. The blade scorched his neck, its crimson edge shining with regicide thirst. It was a masterpiece, he had to admit. Good taste. He’d die a cool death. Wouldn’t expect less of his sister.

“But first, some mindfucking. You,” said Joel, pointing at Whutty. “You’re not really Ricardus ben Lysander. You’re actually a clone of Lysander, genetically engineered to be the perfect pilot. Yes, your son-of-a-bitch ‘friend’ never had the courage to tell you that. Feel free to hate him now.”

Whutty shrugged, sat down calmly and started weeping and sobbing loudly.

Gauss tried to say something, but Nike pressed the blade tighter and touched his ear with her lips, whispering him to be still.

“Now, I have a bad experience with delayed executions. Nike, just finish it, will you?”

She nodded. Then she threw her sword, and then a second one at the remaining Schwarzwyrmkommando.

“You really shouldn’t have let Katje die,” she said, releasing her grip on Gauss.

“Ah. How cute. Well, I have THIS!” said Joel, pulling a detonator from his pocket. “I press this button, we all die! BWAHAHAHAH” *boink*

Miriam dropped the cricket mallet as Joel collapsed unconscious. “You are really disgusting, you know.”

----------------------------------------

Gauss walked to Whutty. “Er… Raketemensch… I’m…”

Lips smiled. “I’ll take care of him.” She pulled Whutty up and kissed the bastard free of all angst… for a few minutes, at least.

Gauss chuckled. “Well, that’s a lot better than I could have done.”

“What do we do with him?” asked one of Nicolette’s yojimbo, prodding Joel with his expensive shoes.

Nicolette shrugged. “Get rid of him.”

“No,” said Gauss, shaking his head. “I spared his life once, and so I must do ever again. If there is anyone who has the right to kill this fucker, it’s Oscar. And since he’ll just escape if we arrest him, just give him a ship and tell him to fuck off this Galaxy.”

The yojimbo nodded, and carried Joel away.

----------------------------------------

Gauss had Moebius arrested, and had a long conversation with the old man. He was obviously harmless, of course, and eventually they agreed Moebius wouldn’t be charged with treason, his advice being too useful to be discarded.

Gauss was sure he was too smart to be fooled by the old schemer. He’d see through the bad advice and follow whatever wisdom the man obviously had.

Of course. The following acts exemplify this perfectly.

----------------------------------------

“Miriam, I want you to take the good news to our friends. Meet with Vincit and the others and then bring them here.”

Miriam stood silent for a while, looking into the emperor’s eyes, and then silently nodded.

She’s out of the way. At last. Her presence… utterly… unsettling. Gauss shivered.

----------------------------------------

“Do you want me to leave?” asked Nike.

“Of course not. You proved I was right. You are trustworthy.”

“I proved I’m a vengeful bitch, actually.”

“Well, there is that,” agreed Gauss. “Oh, just stay, will you?”

“In your nuptial bed?” she asked, maliciously.

Gauss smiled sadly and shrugged. “Who knows. I’m emperor at last. Some debauchery might be in order.”

The proposal was surprising, though not totally unappealing. Eventually Nike said:

“You’ve changed. I’m not sure I like it.”

“I know I don’t,” he replied, glumly.

Suddenly Gauss seemed very sad and very tired. Nike began to understand what he had been going through. She pitied him, and she decided she would stand by him. Or eventually no-one else would.

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STAND BY FOR THE EMPEROR’S STATE OF THE EMPIRE SPEECH

“Mr. Prime Minister, Mr. Secretary of State, Lords of the Houses, members of the parliament, fellow gamezohans. It is a glorious day for our Empire. [clapping] The extravagant republican delirium you have been forced to endure for the last weeks is finally over, having been proved once again that the only safeguard against tyranny is a just monarch with the aid of an enlightened aristocracy. [clapping]

But that is the past, and our concerns are with the future.

I am here to threaten the Galaxy. [much clapping]

I regret to inform that, despite my best wishes towards our brethren of Wendauer, I was informed by the Order of Pure Law’s lawyers that they are in contravention of a five-century old treaty prohibiting consorting with any sort of inhuman extradimensional insanity-inducing intelligences.

Secretary of State Baron Rockthriller has gathered sufficient proof that the Wendauer forces possess such Allies of Mass Destruction. I hereby accept, in the name of Gamezoha, to fulfill our duties and disarm these monstrosities. [clapping]

Our friends of Lucifuge Corporation have been commissioned to aid the House Ticine shipwrights in forming the most magnificent fleet the universe has ever seen. Using state-of-the-art assault droids and Hilton-Zaratov trance troops we have nothing to fear from eldricht terrors.

This Wendaurian issue is only the tip of the iceberg, though. All peoples of the Galaxy have repeatedly insisted in pursuing their shameful costumes, indulging in acts against the most essential human rights. Among such monstrosities, murder, genocide, cannibalism, and social-democracy. That must stop. [clapping]

As the dynasty motto goes, Gaussiae Est Imperare Orbi Universo. Gamezoha has been a City Upon a Hill for too long. It is time we fulfill our Manifest Destiny and extend our Reich over all peoples, take the Light to the Thirsting Masses, to let them dream the Gamezohan Dream, to let them live the Pax Gamezohana! Ich bin ein Wendaeurian!!! GAMEZOHA ÜBER ALLES!!!!!” [huge amounts of clapping, buildings collapse throughout the system]

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