Hyperspatial Travel
11-12-2006, 08:06
He pulled back the sheets from his bed, silk cascading off the bodies of the two who lay there. Two women. It was so easy to gain a woman, now he was regent. He smirked. Of course, now they'd seen his room.. he would kill them. The chances were low that they were assassins, but the chance was there.
The two intertwined bodies stirred, and Belarius calmly walked over to a closet. He pressed his hand against it, and spoke a single word, his voice patterns and DNA analyzed within seconds, a tiny cabinet sliding out. One. Two.
After two seconds, he spoke another word. "Ruler."
Had he not, a series of poisonous, tiny darts would shot out from the tiniest of holes in the wardrobe, killing him within seconds. After all, that was where he held the most important of his records. He reached in, and pressed his left thumb, and little finger, against the top and bottom of the drawer. A click sounded, and the back slid open. He reached in, and drew out the laser-pistol that sat in there.
It had cost him a fortune, but it was useful. Although not as efficient as, say, a gun that threw slugs, it was quiet, and was almost impossible to detect. Of course, it was useless from afar, and was quite large, for a pistol.
One of the women stirred, stretching from the bed. She yawned, and spoke. "My, where am I? Oh, of course! The Reg-"
She never had the chance to finish the last word. Amplified light slashed its way through her head, frying her brain, killing her nigh-instantly. The other woman wasn't even awake yet. Belarius felt a thrill. Killing was the greatest pleasure. To kill as he did now, though, was merely business. One had to personalize it, to let your victim feel fear and despair, let them know it was you who was killing them, before it was truly a pleasure.
He looked down at the corpse, and levelled his gun at the other woman. He felt a brief twinge of regret. She wasn't even awake yet. But business preceded, and followed pleasure. And the pleasure he had gained the night before did not mean he could let the women live. He pressed his finger against the touch-sensitive pad on the side of the pistol, stopping her heart, and slashing at her body, up and down, cutting through flesh and bone, until there was no possibility of her living.
He looked at the second corpse. Beauty scarred by the ugliness wrought by his pistol. The power over the women he had excited him. He grinned, and put the pistol back into the cabinet, sliding it back into the cupboard. The wooden covering, over the titanium-lead innards made for a near-impenetrable holding place.
His room was vast, as big as another's house. And it was trapped. Threading his way haphazardly across the floor, to avoid the traps he knew where there, he moved over to his computer. The stigma against 'artificial' brains remained, but a computer was a necessity. He tapped on the keyboard there, bringing up a screen.
He had much to do, he knew. The asteroid that he lived on was not where he should be. He needed to be in Council, dictating what would happen, and when. But it was too easy to remove a Regent - every hand schemed against him, and to survive a day in the Imperial Council was more dangerous than those who fought in the armies. He himself had ordered the deaths of over twenty members of those Families who partook in the Council, and three-quarters of those were now dead. He had no illusions that the other Councillors were more naive than he was.
His problem was, he decided, that he did not possess a relatavistic weapon. He did not intend to use it, of course. He was not a barbarian. But.. his self-assured manner made the more belligerent members of the Council believe that he did. Now he was Regent, no doubt every member of every Family would have spies on his worlds. If he did not take possession of some form of military power soon, he could face a coup.
His allies were surprisingly far and few between. He was only Regent because his enemies hated him less than they hated each other. Now... who was it. The Appersons. He hit the key, and a quivering blue screen appeared. He swore, and gently removed the power cord from the computer. He replaced it, and started it up again. In a few seconds, the query came back with all the information he needed. The Appersons were staunch allies - they openly supported him in Council, which was something few others did. Of course, they'd take the chance to stab him in the back if they thought he was weak.
He needed.. a warship. He had no means of constructing one, and, with a warship, he could arrive to Council in pomp, instead of hiring one of the independent-owned hyperjump-capable shuttles to take him there. They were riskier, but also a sign of his prestige.
"Yes.. I could send a message...", he said to himself.
His fingers labouriously moved across the keyboard, unused to the agonizingly slow process of typing out a message himself. But his voice could be overheard, and a secretary would know everything that he did. For the most important messages, he had to type them himself.
From: Belarius Tenan
To: Emrys Apperson
-DNA verification required-
Fellow Head-of-Family, these are trying times. As Regent, I am forced to distribute thyraza fairly among those who need it, even with my limited supplies. To offend one is to offend all, and to alienate a single Family beyond recompense would mean chaos.
As I know, there have been many upstart risings against your fair and deserved rule. I, myself, am not without power. Should you find it in your gracious heart to perhaps lend unto me one of your smaller hyperjump-capable ships, for mere trade purposes, I would, as a favor to a friend, perhaps use it to carry a little.. extra thyraza to you, to aid in the quelling of those uprisings. And, of course, it is always useful to have some stockpiled for the future, no?
-END MESSAGE-
-SELF-DELETE-
His lips curved into a frown. Hopefully, the man would understand what he implied. Giving another Family a warship would require vast payments of thyraza, and promises of aid. But lending.. he could use the ship for the term of his Regency, and compensate the Apperson Family by way of extra thyraza.
It was risky, he knew. Revealing the extent of his weakness would be dangerous. But to hide that weakness, at the cost of keeping it, could prove fatal. He was going to make enemies during his Regency. He had made enemies simply by obtaining it. A warship would serve as a fine deterrent - and, if the Appersons decided to push for more, he could always simply deny thyraza to those worlds in rebellion. A risky move, exercising his power openly.. but he needed that warship.
He shivered, hitting a button on the front of the computer. With a clack, the disk that contained the memory was spat out. He picked it up gently, and threaded his way back to the wardrobe. He opened it up, his fingerprints and DNA analyzed once more, and put it inside. There. Hopefully, he could acquire the warship before he was forced back into Council. A display of power could certainly not damage his position there...
The two intertwined bodies stirred, and Belarius calmly walked over to a closet. He pressed his hand against it, and spoke a single word, his voice patterns and DNA analyzed within seconds, a tiny cabinet sliding out. One. Two.
After two seconds, he spoke another word. "Ruler."
Had he not, a series of poisonous, tiny darts would shot out from the tiniest of holes in the wardrobe, killing him within seconds. After all, that was where he held the most important of his records. He reached in, and pressed his left thumb, and little finger, against the top and bottom of the drawer. A click sounded, and the back slid open. He reached in, and drew out the laser-pistol that sat in there.
It had cost him a fortune, but it was useful. Although not as efficient as, say, a gun that threw slugs, it was quiet, and was almost impossible to detect. Of course, it was useless from afar, and was quite large, for a pistol.
One of the women stirred, stretching from the bed. She yawned, and spoke. "My, where am I? Oh, of course! The Reg-"
She never had the chance to finish the last word. Amplified light slashed its way through her head, frying her brain, killing her nigh-instantly. The other woman wasn't even awake yet. Belarius felt a thrill. Killing was the greatest pleasure. To kill as he did now, though, was merely business. One had to personalize it, to let your victim feel fear and despair, let them know it was you who was killing them, before it was truly a pleasure.
He looked down at the corpse, and levelled his gun at the other woman. He felt a brief twinge of regret. She wasn't even awake yet. But business preceded, and followed pleasure. And the pleasure he had gained the night before did not mean he could let the women live. He pressed his finger against the touch-sensitive pad on the side of the pistol, stopping her heart, and slashing at her body, up and down, cutting through flesh and bone, until there was no possibility of her living.
He looked at the second corpse. Beauty scarred by the ugliness wrought by his pistol. The power over the women he had excited him. He grinned, and put the pistol back into the cabinet, sliding it back into the cupboard. The wooden covering, over the titanium-lead innards made for a near-impenetrable holding place.
His room was vast, as big as another's house. And it was trapped. Threading his way haphazardly across the floor, to avoid the traps he knew where there, he moved over to his computer. The stigma against 'artificial' brains remained, but a computer was a necessity. He tapped on the keyboard there, bringing up a screen.
He had much to do, he knew. The asteroid that he lived on was not where he should be. He needed to be in Council, dictating what would happen, and when. But it was too easy to remove a Regent - every hand schemed against him, and to survive a day in the Imperial Council was more dangerous than those who fought in the armies. He himself had ordered the deaths of over twenty members of those Families who partook in the Council, and three-quarters of those were now dead. He had no illusions that the other Councillors were more naive than he was.
His problem was, he decided, that he did not possess a relatavistic weapon. He did not intend to use it, of course. He was not a barbarian. But.. his self-assured manner made the more belligerent members of the Council believe that he did. Now he was Regent, no doubt every member of every Family would have spies on his worlds. If he did not take possession of some form of military power soon, he could face a coup.
His allies were surprisingly far and few between. He was only Regent because his enemies hated him less than they hated each other. Now... who was it. The Appersons. He hit the key, and a quivering blue screen appeared. He swore, and gently removed the power cord from the computer. He replaced it, and started it up again. In a few seconds, the query came back with all the information he needed. The Appersons were staunch allies - they openly supported him in Council, which was something few others did. Of course, they'd take the chance to stab him in the back if they thought he was weak.
He needed.. a warship. He had no means of constructing one, and, with a warship, he could arrive to Council in pomp, instead of hiring one of the independent-owned hyperjump-capable shuttles to take him there. They were riskier, but also a sign of his prestige.
"Yes.. I could send a message...", he said to himself.
His fingers labouriously moved across the keyboard, unused to the agonizingly slow process of typing out a message himself. But his voice could be overheard, and a secretary would know everything that he did. For the most important messages, he had to type them himself.
From: Belarius Tenan
To: Emrys Apperson
-DNA verification required-
Fellow Head-of-Family, these are trying times. As Regent, I am forced to distribute thyraza fairly among those who need it, even with my limited supplies. To offend one is to offend all, and to alienate a single Family beyond recompense would mean chaos.
As I know, there have been many upstart risings against your fair and deserved rule. I, myself, am not without power. Should you find it in your gracious heart to perhaps lend unto me one of your smaller hyperjump-capable ships, for mere trade purposes, I would, as a favor to a friend, perhaps use it to carry a little.. extra thyraza to you, to aid in the quelling of those uprisings. And, of course, it is always useful to have some stockpiled for the future, no?
-END MESSAGE-
-SELF-DELETE-
His lips curved into a frown. Hopefully, the man would understand what he implied. Giving another Family a warship would require vast payments of thyraza, and promises of aid. But lending.. he could use the ship for the term of his Regency, and compensate the Apperson Family by way of extra thyraza.
It was risky, he knew. Revealing the extent of his weakness would be dangerous. But to hide that weakness, at the cost of keeping it, could prove fatal. He was going to make enemies during his Regency. He had made enemies simply by obtaining it. A warship would serve as a fine deterrent - and, if the Appersons decided to push for more, he could always simply deny thyraza to those worlds in rebellion. A risky move, exercising his power openly.. but he needed that warship.
He shivered, hitting a button on the front of the computer. With a clack, the disk that contained the memory was spat out. He picked it up gently, and threaded his way back to the wardrobe. He opened it up, his fingerprints and DNA analyzed once more, and put it inside. There. Hopefully, he could acquire the warship before he was forced back into Council. A display of power could certainly not damage his position there...