K-4. The Pressure of Command

Sveta was different from how I remembered.

Back when she was Lisichka, she was elegantly beautiful: tall, raven-haired, piercing violet eyes. She gave off the aura of a noble princess, which was instantly dispelled whenever she opened her mouth and said something goofy. That odd juxtaposition of her refined beauty with her dotty personality was the ultimate encapsulation of the trickster fox, her namesake.

Her modern appearance correlated much more strongly with her personality: short, small-chested, blond hair in a ridiculous twin-twintail hairstyle, cat ears and tail. She was now more of a cute pet rather than a refined beauty. Although the new look suited her much better, the loss of the old juxtaposition stung me just a bit.

However, I couldn’t find it in myself to complain about this too much, even internally. She seemed so happy, and if she was happy then so was I.

Zehra had also completely changed, in the opposite way. She looked the same as I remembered, with her golden hair and eyes, but her personality was drastically different. When Zehra first brought me into this world in 2049, she was an emotionless coldhearted scientist who tended to hyperfocus on her projects and completely lacked social skills or even the ability to converse with others about topics outside her interest. When Sveta first came into our lives, my mother's personality slowly grew warmer as it was infected by my sister’s boundless joy. By the time we parted, Zehra’s cool temperament was tempered by the warmth of a loving mother.

But now? Zehra was so different, I was initially unsure if she was the same person I remembered. It seemed like she had somehow assimilated Sveta’s personality: she was rambunctious, cheerful, flippant and jokey. She constantly wore a lion’s ears and tail, spoke in a singsong voice and ended all her sentences with the affected onomatopoeia “gao~n.” As best I could tell, the ostensible death of her AI daughters had been so devastating that she had dramatically altered her personality as a result, taking what had been a bit of Christmas cosplay to a ludicrous extreme. This was far more incongruous to me than Sveta’s simple change of avatar.

Presently, Zehra was crying like a forlorn child. Sveta had connected us via comms, and the little lion had practically fainted when she saw me. After that the waterworks opened up, and she was presently ugly-crying with such intensity I feared she might breach the fabric of spacetime with her heaving. I knew it to be happy crying, but the snot running down her face suggested anything but.

“BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! MY PRECIOUS DAUGHTER HAS RETURNED AT LAST, GAO~N!” she said in-between her heaves.

I turned to my sister. “Sveta, was she like this when she met you too?”

“Uh-huh. She cried on and off for HOURS until she passed out from the vodka.”

That last bit surprised me. “She drinks now?”

Sveta rolled her eyes. “Like a fish. If vodka wasn’t so hard to get, she’d be continually plastered like Seth MacFarlane on Arbor Day.”

I ignored whatever obscure pop culture reference Sveta just made and kept up my inquiries. “She seems… very different from how I remember.”

Sveta shrugged. “I don’t remember how she was before, so this just seems like normal Zehra to me.”

I turned back to the sobbing woman in the video chat window and sighed heavily. “Well, mother, it’s nice to see you again, so please do stop crying.”

“BWAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! KOMETKAAAAAAA!”

*****

An hour later, after Zehra (mostly) settled down, Captain Savitskaya convened a debriefing. In physical attendance was herself, Miette, Lydia, Zehra, the ship’s AI Laria and Sveta. The latter two were occupying something called ‘Telepresence Dolls’ which allowed them to simulate physical bodies through some combination of robotics and holography.

AIs in physical bodies, huh? I wonder what else has changed while I’ve been away. How many more surprises are in store?

I was attending via video comm window, projected on the holographic wall of the Radiolaria’s CIS sphere. I suppose I could have used the projectors to render myself as if I were physically present, but I didn’t see the point as it would ultimately be incorporeal. I did feel a mild twinge of jealousy when I saw Sveta clinging to Miette’s arm, however.

Oh, so that’s how it is? I guess you really are my sister. I cast a longing glance Lydia’s way.

The conversation had moved past the recap of the battle, and Captain Savitskaya was currently probing the matter of the Belphegor. I readied the relevant data from my archives, knowing I would be called upon shortly to provide precise details.

“So this Moby is a clone of you, Lydia?” the Captain asked, her eyes narrowing. “How exactly did THAT come about?”

“Well, back during the Third Great Surge, Kometka and I… distinguished ourselves on the battlefield. To the tune of seven Beelzebubs and around a dozen Defiled.” Lydia said. She wasn’t being braggadocious, merely stating facts.

“Fourteen Defiled, to be precise.” I clarified.

The Captain let out a low whistle. “By yourself?”

Lydia shrugged. “Mostly.”

“Hang on.” Miette interrupted. “What’s a ‘Defiled?’”

We all looked at her incredulously. “Seriously, Miette? I know what a Defiled is, and I’m not even originally from this timeline!” Sveta teased her.

“You have combat manuals downloaded in your brain! That’s not fair!” she protested.

“Tsk tsk. Even I know what a Defiled is, gao~n!” Zehra said, smiling like a trickster god.

“Don’t YOU start!” Miette wailed.

I quickly interceded on behalf of the poor pilot, bringing up an image of a Defiled. “This is the unit in question.” I said, pointing to the tentacle-wreathed coffin creature.

“Huh?” Miette blinked a few times. “Isn’t that just called a ‘cruiser?’”

“Oh yeah, that is what we usually call them, huh?” Sveta mused.

“‘Defiled’ is their technical designation, whereas ‘cruiser’ is conditional vernacular most frequently used by pilots.” I clarified.

“Whoa, what a crazy retcon!” Sveta said, whereas Miette just looked mad.

Zehra cackled madly. “Ohohohoho, you’ve been fighting Sarcophage for ten years and didn’t know that? Miette is surprisingly dense sometimes, gao~n!”

Faced with the comedy scene playing out in front of me, my earlier confusion returned. Seriously, who are you and what did you do with old Zehra?! Since when have you been so… happy?

The Captain clapped her hands once, very loudly, causing the room to fall silent. “Can we have just ONE meeting where we stay on track?” she said with pronounced exasperation. Everyone looked at her sheepishly.

“Right, so…” Lydia continued after a moment, “Kometka’s assistance made it possible for us to singlehandedly kill a bunch of Beelzebubs. She threaded her drive fins to neutralize the bugs’ defensive gravity field and I did the rest with precision plasma blade strikes. That little feat earned us the enemy’s undivided attention, as we became the deadliest human unit on the battlefield. Bear in mind the Sarcophage are entirely biological beings with no understanding of computers; they assumed our success was due entirely to me, the biological pilot, and thus came to get a genetic sample from me. That is to say, the creature smashed up our Frame and then ate my legs with tentacles.” Lydia absentmindedly scratched the thigh of one prosthetic leg, a look of disgust and anger upon her face.

The Captain continued, unfazed. “And they used that genetic material to clone you?”

“Yup.”

“How do you know for sure Moby is a clone of you, and not some other pilot Belphegor consumed?” the Captain asked.

“Because she told us herself. Plus…” Lydia nodded to me.

I brought up an image of Moby from one of our gravity communications. Everyone except Lydia and I gasped. The picture showed a girl who was the striking image of Lydia, save for three differences: every tooth in her mouth was a sharpened fang, she was completely lacking any scars, and her eyes were blood-red with slit irises and black sclera. She looked like Lydia’s demonic twin.

“That image is… so clear.” Sveta marveled.

“Indeed.” Laria added, adjusting her glasses. “When we communicated with her the transmission was filled with static…”

“That’s because your gravity comm algorithms are inferior. I’ll send you my version.” I replied, transmitting the relevant code to Sveta and Laria.

“Right, thank you.” Laria said. “If I may ask… why does she style her hair the same as you?”

“She’s copying me.” Lydia answered bitterly. “She’s an attempt by the Sarcophage to mimic every aspect of me, from appearance to personality, in order to try and understand my prowess on the battlefield.”

“Her personality needs some work, gao~n…” Zehra said.

Lydia folded her arms. “Bear in mind this is a recreation based on genetics alone. The Sarcophage don’t understand the human mind, and her personality is consequently that of a child. She’s tactically brilliant, more so than any human I’ve ever met, but flawed in almost every other way. She’s also under the impression she’ll improve herself if she finishes consuming me.”

Sveta put her hand to her mouth in shock. “I see! She said ‘You must join with us’ to me and Miette. But why did she confuse you for us?”

I spoke up. “As Lydia said, she’s childlike. She can’t tell the different between humans very well. Have you and Miette distinguished yourselves in combat?”

Miette frowned. “We did take out a Beelzebub once, plus several cruisers.”

“There you go.” Lydia said. “That, combined with the fact that you two are an AI and human pilot operating a Gravity Frame in concert, led Moby to think you were us. Everything after proceeded from that mistaken identity.”

I continued her thought. “For the last three years, we’ve been running all over the Earth sphere to keep her off balance. If we settle in one place for too long, she comes after us. We’ve been staying on the move, conducting raids into enemy space to try and kill her.”

“But now the calculus has changed.” said the Captain.

Lydia nodded. “Her attention is focused here, on Eros, and on the four of us. She’ll start actively hunting Miette and Sveta now too.”

"EEP!" Sveta cringed. "I've had enough of creepy stalker bugs!"

“It would be prudent if you two transferred to the Hypernova immediately.” I said. “We need to leave Eros at once if the safety of this facility is to be preserved.”

Zehra and Sveta both looked pained at that suggestion. They were just about to protest when Captain Savitskaya put her foot down.

“No, I don’t think so. We’ll all stay right here, and so will you and your ships.”

“HUH?” Lydia shouted, glaring at the Captain. “Wait a moment! We don’t take orders from YOU!”

“Don’t you?” she responded coolly. “Last I checked, I hold the rank of Captain and you are a mere 1st Lieutenant. Are you proceeding under a different understanding of the chain of command than me? I would be happy to CORRECT any misconceptions you may have.” She cracked her knuckles as she spoke, and her icy expression froze the entire room.

Lydia quivered a moment before responding, clearly intimidated. “Th-That’s not what I meant. I’m under the command of Captain Vetrov of the GRU. Our chain of command is independent of the regular Army.”

“I don’t give two shits about interforce rivalries or your Spetsnaz pride.” the Captain responded. “I was granted direct command of 433 Eros by the Politburo, and you are now in MY territory. For as long as that remains the case, I expect my orders to be followed quickly and exactly. Any further objection and I’ll throw you into the gulag so fast your head will spin.”

I kept my mouth shut, but Lydia was shaking like a leaf. Her warrior’s instincts understood the woman in front of her outclassed her in every way. Lydia was no coward, but the Captain’s aura of intimidation was that overwhelming; if she didn’t fall in line right away, her existence was in jeopardy. The Captain could erase her, instantly and with no remorse.

I looked over to the others, who were all wearing wry grins. Miette offered some advice to Lydia. “Take it from a fellow hot-shot pilot, back down. This is an opponent beyond your abilities.”

“I’m… s-sorry.” Lydia muttered, eyes downcast. “I meant no disrespect, Captain Savitskaya. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” The Captain’s oppressive aura instantly vanished. “Now, I am not unreasonable. Let me explain the logic behind my decision. This facility, Eros, is currently engaged in advanced weapons development under Doctor Zehra’s expert supervision. The results have been exemplary; the Velocipedes and Sveta’s Gravity Frame are testaments to that. This is an arms race against the Sarcophage, especially with the appearance of Moby. I intend to continue that trend.”

“She will attack relentlessly as long as we’re here.” I said.

“I’m counting on it. If her attention is focused on us, pressure on the rest of the Absolute Line is lessened. We have the shielding to withstand her kinetic strikes, plus the weapons Zehra is developing and the assistance of four carrier ships. I intend to accomplish the goal that eluded you for three years; the destruction of this Belphegor.” The Captain spoke this bold declaration as casually as if she were making a weather forecast.

“…Captain Vetrov might be resistant to that idea…” Lydia said in a small voice.

Captain Savitskaya smiled thinly, but her eyes weren’t smiling at all. “Leave that to me.”

*****

After the conclusion of the debriefing, everyone minus the Captain and Laria retreated to Zehra’s lab. I accompanied them on a tablet carried by Sveta. Miette was consoling Lydia, who was still spooked.

“Don’t worry, Captain Savitskaya is a very carrot-and-stick kind of woman. After she’s established her dominance, she’s easy to get along with.”

“Shit.” Lydia growled, clenching her fists. “That’s the most scared I’ve been since the Third Great Surge. I survived Mars, damn it. I shouldn’t be quaking in my boots like this.”

“Just understand when you’re outclassed, gao~n. Even the greatest scientific mind of our time, Zehra Aslanbek, can’t compare to her might!” Zehra said.

“Don’t describe YOURSELF as the greatest!” Sveta motioned to flick her on the forehead, but Zehra easily dodged.

“…Does she talk in the third person frequently?” I asked warily.

““YUP!”” responded Miette and Sveta in unison.

Just then, another voice joined the conversation. “I do apologize for the blatant egotism of Mistress. Please continue to put her in her place, all of you.”

We turned to look at the newcomer, and I did a double take. She was an existence entirely incongruous to a military research laboratory: an honest-to-goddess maid, with a skirt that was way too short and dog ears attached to her pink hair.

Lydia was more floored than me. “VICKY? YOU’RE the maid?!”

Vicky curtsied flawlessly, which was quite an accomplishment given the lack of gravity and the shortness of her skirt. “Lydia, it’s been some time. Have you been well?”

Lydia laughed, her earlier ill mood entirely forgotten. “I’m doing just fine, minus a couple of missing legs. How are YOU doing, though? How on Earth did you become a MAID, of all things?!”

“It’s a long and shameful story. I would prefer to discuss it another time, perhaps accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol.” Vicky fiddled with her skirt bashfully, and Lydia just laughed uproariously.

“Fair enough. Seeing you alive and mostly well is great!” Lydia floated over to Vicky and wrapped her in a big bear hug.

“Those two know each other?” Sveta asked, looking down at me.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Was Vicky in the GRU, perhaps?”

Zehra answered that. “She’s ex-Spetsnaz, gao~n. To be specific, she jumped ship from the GRU in 2049 to aid the faction that successfully took over leadership of the NKVD two years later, with a little help from yours truly.”

“You lot are entangled in all sorts of shady things, aren’t you?” My tone was more than a little judgmental.

Zehra shrugged. “You’re one to talk, gao~n. More importantly, isn’t it time we downloaded you into a Telepresence Doll?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

Sveta perked up at that thought. “Yeah! I want to hug my dear sister in real life!”

“My daughter needs my affection, gao~n! Hurry up and pick one so I can smother you in kisses!” Zehra added.

“Uh…” I was at a loss for what to do. I certainly hadn’t expected my family reunion to be this rambunctious or affectionate. Then again, with Sveta around, I suppose it was inevitable. I looked at the spunky android girl carrying my tablet, and the giant black-and-pink robot that was her true body, and felt a powerful wave of nostalgia wash over me.

After five long years… I’ve finally come home.