“And that is how that feels.”
Liv slowly opened one eye, groaning as she felt sensation slowly starting to return to her body. She did her normal post-battle check up. Her face felt like it had met King Leonidas’ sandal-clad foot for the entirety of the battle of Thermopylae, with a follow-up of every single Persian to grind the dirt in. Her ribs felt cracked, her arms felt leaden, her head swam and she was fairly certain if she sat up, she’d be struck with the specific kind of dizzy spell that only came after losing a great deal of blood.
The fact that she had no other eye was also something to worry about. Instead, she just felt a mass of cloth and tissue and tape, all of it mashed up against the left side of her face.
Liv swung her eye around and saw Liam. He was seated in a chair in the right corner of the painfully dull white room. He held a newspaper up – the headline she read was: EX-PRESIDENT STARS IN HIT NEW SHOW, LIVE FROM JAIL CELL.
He flipped it shut along the horizontal axis, so he could look over it. He gave her his biggest shit-eating grin ever.
“Normally, I’m the one who wakes up in the hospital with a body part missing.”
Liv groaned and closed her eye. “How long has it been?”
“You’ve been out three days,” Liam said. “Tethis has been screaming at the State Department to get her more power crystals, but they’re not turning on the gate until they can figure out how to keep Ares from using it. No matter how many times we’ve tried to explain that the damage is done...” He shrugged. “They won’t open it up until someone a few rungs up the ladder yells at them.”
Liv pointed at the newspaper.
Liam looked at it.
“Why is she in jail?” she mumbled.
“Huh?” Liam blinked. “Oh, no, this is about Amanda’s predecessor.”
“Oh.” Liv closed her eyes. Kings often did far worse things to their predecessors in the Hellenic League than throw them in jail. But Amanda had always struck her as somewhat soft. “Why isn’t it about me?”
Liam chuckled. “Because print media is dying, Liv.”
When she opened her eyes again, Liam had turned on the TV in the corner of the room. It showed several talking heads – their words lost in the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sound of voices speaking over the PA. But the footage playing behind them was clear as day. It was Liv herself, punching Ares into a stone pillar that, now that she could get a good look at it, could have come from the Parthenon itself if it had been painted a proper color, rather than left to turn white and boring. The footage was slowed down, so that everyone could see every single blow.
Liam looked at her. His voice was soft. “You saved a lot of lives by rushing ahead, Liv.”
Liv smirked. “Damn straight I did.” Then, after a moment, she furrowed her brow. “Wait, I know I did the right thing. Why do you think I did the right thing?”
Liam dragged his chair over and sat down so he could speak to Liv directly without getting between her and the TV. They were replaying an earlier scene – this was her walking through bullets as police officers scrambled back and away from her. Liv smiled to see that.
“Because while you were out, they showed me footage from the two and a half minutes of speech Ares manages to get out as Amanda,” Liam said. “It’s all standard diplomatic boilerplate. But, well...” He pulled out his phone. He tapped at it a few times, then swung it around to show it to her. The footage was clear and crisp, and the sound only faintly tinny. It showed the false Amanda Deinhardt standing before the podium. She was smiling genially, and she started to speak.
“Greetings, representatives of the United Nations,” she said. “I know for some time, the United States and the United Nations have been at odds. But today, I come to you to speak on a topic of great importance to our many nations. The return of the gods and the alien life of Purgatory, brought to us by a gate constructed by my government. All of us are uncertain of what this means. Of what this might lead to-”
Liam shut the phone off. Liv blinked and shook herself as she realized…
She had wrapped her hand around Liam’s throat.
“Ow...” Liam whispered.
Liv jerked her hand back, looking at her palm. The impulse had been something below conscious thought. Below the nerve endings, flickering deep within her breast. It had buzzed and crackled and hissed in her head: Kill. Murder. War. She shook her head slowly, her hand going to her face. “Whoa...”
“Ares was going to broadcast that to the world,” Liam said, quietly. “The only thing that stopped him was you kicking down the door and setting off the Swiss counter terrorist teams. First thing they did? Lock down the building, shut down all communication and route it to their police centers.” He shook his head. “I think the only reason you didn’t come in to find a total fucking bloodbath is that most United Nations ambassadors are trained to resort to violence as a last option. Not a first.” He coughed.
Liv shook her head. “I didn’t even feel the control.” She put her palms against her face.
Liam nodded. “We’re studying this. Tethis is checking it over, and begging - begging - for the chance to take it back to Purgatory, so she can use the Ancients' machines to scan it.” He shook his head. “But until then, the best way to keep people safe from this is to keep Ares away from cameras.”
Liv shook her head again. “No, there’s another way.”
“Well, yes, I know, killing him would help,” Liam said, grinning.
Liv smirked. “No.” She paused. “Do you know why I was so slow?”
Liam frowned. “You...” He paused. “You punched Ares through a wall, Liv.”
“Yeah, and you still unloaded a full magazine into his balls before I did it,” Liv said, smirking.
Liam waved his hand, as if to say, ‘oh, it was nothing.’
Liv punched his shoulder, then blinked as she realized her wrist was actually tied to bags of clear liquid, by lines and tubes that were sunk into her skin. She frowned, slightly, then reached to take them out. Liam put his hand on her hand, shaking his head. “Without Tethis’ magic, we should keep those in.”
Liv frowned, but let it – and her arm – drop. “The reason why I wasn’t fast was because I have limits. I tried to make myself tough, so I got less fast. I had to make myself strong, so I got less tough.” Her hand that wasn’t connected to needles touched her cheek, gingerly. She hissed quietly. “And Ares has to work the same way. He has to.”
Liam sighed. “I am sorry.”
“I’m not.” Liv smirked slowly, her eye closing. “The last time, I didn’t even touch him. This time?” She held up her hand, lifting a single finger. “I took out a tooth and blacked his fucking eye.”
Liam was silent for a few moments. She could feel him regarding her. What was he thinking? Was he proud of her? Worried about her? Liv smirked slightly at that thought. Liam Vanderbilt, the inveterate worrier. Some days, she was still shocked that he had ever managed to beat her, back when she had merely been a demigoddess. But most days, she could hardly be happier that he had. Her life was a fuck of a lot better now.
Liam chuckled. “So, next time...”
“Next time,” Liv purred. Her eye opened and it gleamed with eagerness. “I tear out his motherfucking throat.”
***
Amanda clasped her hands before her as she looked across the table at the smiling diplomats from the Republic of India. But she wasn’t looking at them. She was looking at Lt. Colonel Kali and Colonel Ganesha. Neither of the gods looked like gods at the moment. Lt. Colonel Kali looked like most military women who Amanda had met in her time in the office. Stern faced, focused, respectful, and undiplomatic. That was why so many of them clearly radiated a faint sense of ‘I could be somewhere else, doing something better with my life.’ Ganesha, meanwhile, glowed with a kind of wise, approachable calmness. It was a balm after the past few days of meetings with the rest of NATO, Russia, China, and various unaffiliated parts of the UN.
People needed to be reassured that she, in fact, was alive and not being replaced by a doppelganger. Amanda couldn’t blame them, even if their worries had kept her from this private face to face. Next to her sat General Sung. No one else was cleared for this level of intelligence.
“Before we begin,” Amanda said. “I want to extend my personal gratitude. If it weren’t for the quick actions of Colonel Ganesha, Ares would have likely escaped far quicker.”
Ganesha chuckled, his hand going to the binding that was still clear, even with his dress uniform. “That is quite a polite way of describing being stabbed while we get in each other's way.”
Amanda smiled.
“This wouldn’t have happened, ma’am, if you had been honest with us,” Kali said, frowning.
“Lieutenant colonel,” one of the ambassadors said.
“Quiet,” Kali snapped, lifting a hand that shimmered into existence. Her skin flashed blue and, for just a moment, an anima of raw power radiated around her body. Flickering black flames danced and flowed along her arms and her teeth seemed to sharpen as her skin darkened. Amanda knew that she was just showing her godly side to get a rise out of her. That didn’t stop her from feeling a cold swell of fear as Kali glared at her. “You kept the nature of Ares’ attacks on the United States secret. If we had known he was not only active but so...” She paused. “Unbound, then we’d have known what to expect.” She shook her head. “Instead, the first time we learn that we’re under direct threat from a god that’s slipped the chains of their dharma.”
Amanda frowned, glancing at one of the ambassadors and General Sung. General Sung shrugged, muttering. “Don’t ask me, I’m a Baptist, Madam President.”
One of the ambassadors sighed. “It’s a complex term, but, you can see it as fate. Cosmic order. The-”
“It’s the chains that bind us to these forms,” Kali snarled, slamming her fist into the table as she stood. “I’m Kali because a billion Hindu believe I’m Kali. Ares should be a goat fucking savage who can’t outwit a fucking plastic bag.”
Amanda nodded. “We’ve told you that he’s been exposed to…” She glanced down to check her notes. Just reading the words ‘power nullification collar, constructed by an alien race known as the Stakosha’ made her feel like she was in some bizarre dream. Before she could continued, Kali made a sound somewhere between a snarl, growl and a curse in Hindi, which made Ganesha cough and start to speak over her.
“While we can agree that mistakes have been made, pointing fingers will not help right now-”
“It’d make me feel better,” Kali muttered loudly enough to be heard over the other god.
Amanda nodded. “We kept this information secret because we were worried that if the world knew what Ares was offering, it’d only encourage people to worship him.” She tapped the manila envelope she had brought. “This contains every piece of intelligence we have from our own services and from the Republic of Babylon, and that includes every Ares cult we have tracked in both our soil and abroad.” She sighed. “By the information provided from Babylon and her representatives, Ares has nearly completely recreated his cult on Earth in terms of size.”
“How is that possible?” one of the younger diplomats asked. He flinched, glancing at Kali – leaving the theory that she was outranked by most of the people in the room in even more of a tatters. But Kali nodded, glaring at Amanda. She wanted an answer too.
“Purgatory has a population exponentially smaller than Earth’s,” General Sung said, sparing Amanda from having to respond to a lower ranked diplomat speaking out of turn. “A tiny percentage of whackos here is equal to a small city state there.”
Amanda nodded. “And now we need to work out a strategy to prevent Ares from getting on some international news network and triggering mass slaughter, or mass conversion, or mass... anything.” She tapped the envelope again. “And here, we have the possible answer. According to our unbound goddess, while an unbound god can shift their powers around, they are mostly moving powers. To become stronger in one area, they need to become weaker in another.” She smirked. “Which means that if we have gods that can respond to Ares’ moves, we can counter them.”
Ganesha glanced at the diplomats. The oldest, most highly ranked diplomat, clasped his hands together. “I will need to confer with my government. Our deities have been a state secret since 1982, ma’am. And a cultural secret for many centuries before that. It will take more than my authority to divulge any more than you have already learned.”
Amanda inclined her head, politely.
As she and Sung waited for the Indian delegation to head back, Sung tapped at his PDA. He was reading reports, frowning as he did so. “Well, we’ve had no luck at tracking down Coyote,” he said. “And the DOD and DHS has no idea where to even begin to look for other native gods, and even less of an idea on how to get them on our side.” He frowned. “And if what Vanderbilt told us is true, they won’t even be much stronger than normal people.”
“What about Wukong?” Amanda asked, rubbing her temples as she waited. A tension headache was settling in.
“Oh, he’s already handed us a list of requests.”
Amanda opened her eyes and caught the PDA that Sung underhanded her. She started to read. Her eyes widened. “No income tax? Does he even live in the United States?”
“He said he would after we hire him,” Sung said, his voice dry.
“I will not sanction giving him a harem,” Amanda said, frowning. “Uncle Sam isn’t in the sex worker business.”
Sung coughed, adjusting his collar.
“The CIA doesn’t count,” Amanda snarled.
Sung, wisely, decided not to comment. “We’ve also got, oh, maybe five million people throwing on costumes, declaring themselves to be the goddess of Hick Junction, Nowheresville, or the warden protector of gangland USA.” He shook his head. “What do we even begin to do about them?”
“We already had a problem with goddamn faith healers...” Amanda muttered.
Their conversation lapsed. Sung glanced at the clock. His fingers tapped on his PDA, waiting for new reports, new messages. Amanda noticed, though, that her old friend’s eyes kept darting back to her, then away. Then back again. Amanda sighed. Time to cut through some more bullshit. If there was anyone she could cut through bullshit with, it had better be Sung.
“Herbert,” Amanda said, looking right at her old friend.
“Fine, fine, okay,” Sung said. “The pilot you pulled out of the storm? Lt. Thrasher?”
“Her name was Thrasher?” Amanda asked, barely keeping herself from snorting.
“Yes, she happened to tell her CO that you went off into the woods with Ambassador Vanderbilt and his wife. Then, when you came back, you, uh…” Sung waved his hand, coughing. “We told her to keep her trap shut, and if she doesn’t, we’ll hit her with every kind of insubordination charge we can fucking dream up. But...” He looked at Amanda. Amanda felt her frustration headache start to come back as she looked down at the brown and black whorls of wood grain that had been varnished and turned into a table. Her finger traced a lighter patch of brown as she considered and discarded choice words.
She looked at Sung.
And what popped out of her mouth was. “You’re jealous?”
“I’m married!” Sung exclaimed.
“I’m the politician, Herbert, I’m the one who's supposed to answer without actually answering,” Amanda said, her voice dry.
Sung looked away. “Well?” he asked.
“Yes. Liam Vanderbilt and I had sexual relations,” Amanda said, her voice soft. “And you know what? I liked it. I’m a woman, damn it. And if Bill Clinton, Lyndon B. Johnson and fucking Kennedy could get away with what they got away with in the White House, I think I can blow one incredibly well hung man on a deserted fucking island and not have it be the end of the fucking world!” Amanda trailed off, then flushed, hard.
The two of them sat in silence – red-faced silence.
Finally, Sung said: “You, uh, have been stewing about that for a while, haven’t you?”
“Ever since I ran for Senate as a widow, people have been trying to make me either sexless or some kind of succubus!” Amanda threw up one hand. “It’s tiring.”
“At least they’re not asking to see your birth certificate!” Sung said.
“Not helping, Herbert.”
The door rattled. Sung and Amanda both got their war-faces back on. When it opened, Ganesha entered. He was in his form of the elephant-headed god. It was arresting. His four arms were held easily at his side and crossed over his belly. He walked forward, glowing and shimmering with his anima. Amanda felt like she wanted to ask him a million questions, all at once. Instead, she watched as he took his seat. He clasped two sets of hands together and inclined his head – his trunk curling upwards to avoid pressing to the table. His tusks glinted in the harsh white light of the meeting room.
“I have come before you in this form,” Ganesha said, his voice musical and deep. “To reflect my true statue and position within the Republic. I am the god of new beginnings. And this is a new beginning, for all of us. This will be the form I shall wear as I greet the United Nations.” He inclined his head ever so slightly. “With you and the United States at my side. We are allies, are we not?”
Amanda breathed slowly out. She hadn’t even realized she had been holding her breath.
“So, you’ll share your, uh, assets with NATO?” Sung asked, leaning forward.
“The entire extant Hindu pantheon is at the disposal of the world, until this crisis is over,” Ganesha said.
Amanda smiled. “How many is that?”
“Twenty one,” Ganehsa said.
Sung whistled, slowly. But Amanda’s brow furrowed.
“Wait,” she said. “I’m, uh, no expert, but isn’t Hinduism a religion with millions of gods?” She smiled. “I wasn’t exactly expecting thirty three million, but twenty one is a bit, ah, low.”
Ganesha smiled, sadly. “Humans tell many stories. But reality must always bow, first, to what is there. Since the discovery of DNA, the Indian government has researched us. They determined the number of humans born with the genetic quirk to make a true god are rare. In this modern age, the actual number that are worshiped enough to create them are smaller still.” He held up one of his four arms. “We have always been aware of dharma. Of our chained nature, tied to a cosmic order that cannot be changed. It is why we stepped away from the forefront of the world after the gods of Europe were banished. It is why we remained in hiding after India was made, first, a colony and then a fractured, independent republic. It was one of our own sayings that brought us from the shadows.”
Amanda glanced at Sung – to see if he had any idea. Sung looked haunted.
“I am become death,” he said, intoning the words. “Destroyer of worlds.”
Ganesha nodded and the reference clicked in Amanda’s head. She could remember the first day she had been told just how easy it was for her to give the order and end the world in atomic fire. It sometimes kept her up at night, shivering and panting, waking from dreams of fire and weeping corpses. She looked at Ganesha, who said: “We knew we needed to do something. But we waited until our own land became able to wield such weapons. And thus, we knew, we had to step in. Our dharma became protecting India and her people from the end of the world until its time.”
Amanda nodded. “And now you’ll protect us from the next threat. But not from the shadows.” She stood and offered her hand to the shimmering god.
“No,” Ganesha said. “Not from the shadows anymore.”
They shook hands.
***
Liam groaned as he walked into the bedroom of his house and sprawled face down next to Meg. His face mashed up against a pillow and he groaned. “Can we hire my mom permanently?”
“Aww, you have some spaghetti in your hair!” Meg cooed, picking at Liam’s hair, flicking some bits of food into trash. “Brax? Or was it Marion? Or was it a cunning alliance of both?”
Liam mumbled incoherently.
“Tsk!” Meg clicked her tongue. “I bet Fizit is handling this far better.”
The door to the room swung inwards and Fizit stumbled in. She groaned, then toppled forward into the bed, landing to the other side of Meg. Meg frowned, her wings fluttering as she drew them even more taut.
“And you call yourselves big damn heroes,” Meg said, shaking her head.
“Meg,” Fizit hissed, putting her arms underneath her, then shoving herself up. She glared down her muzzle at Meg. “You could help. With three of us, Brax and Marion would only have us slightly outnumbered.” Her tail twitched slightly.
“I did help!” Meg said. “I played with Brax for an hour.”
Fizit and Liam both shot one another a look. They had both assumed almost the same position – on their hands and knees, glaring at Meg. From downstairs, Liam could hear a faint crash and an excited ‘whoa!’ from Brax. He sighed, then closed his eyes. Meg rolled her eyes.
“Pfft,” she said, then pushed herself to her feet. She walked, casually, off the bed and dropped down to the floor lightly. “I’ll show you how it’s done!”
And with that, she was out the door, flouncing as if she had just won some major battle. Fizit and Liam both looked at one another again. Liam savored something he rarely got.
Schadenfreude.
The two of them sprawled next to one another. Liam felt like he hadn’t got to say two words to Fizit that weren’t work related since they had arrived on Earth. But as he tried to think of what to say, Fizit said: “I got a report from Babylon. Finally.”
Liam groaned. “Fizit...”
“The State Department have put in new security checks on their gates,” she said, shaking her head.
“Gates?” Liam asked. “There are more than one now?”
Fizit nodded. “They started building the second one the instant you reconnected the first. Anyway, the report-”
“Fizit, come on,” Liam said, sitting slowly up. He shifted so that he sat behind his, well... He had been about to think of her as his wife. He had gotten used to think of Meg as his wife, but Meg hadn’t borne him a child yet. Fizit had. But she and he hadn’t married. They hadn’t exchanged rings. Liam felt a strange impulse to offer – but then recoiled mentally. Two wives? He wasn’t King David. Or Solomon. Or Jacob. Or... shit, there were a lot of men with multiple wives and lovers in the Bible. He shook his head as Fizit continued despite his grumbling.
“The report is really troubling,” she said, leaning into him. This, perforce, made Liam have to start to rub her shoulders. “Immense amounts of magical resources and goblin engineers are being redirected from the surface navy and the Blinking Stars. I’m talking enough that my spies are complaining. And this!” She snapped her fingers. “Free Lord Mary has sent tribute to the Tuatha!”
“We are allies with the Tuatha,” Liam murmured into Fizit’s ear. His hands slipped from her shoulders to her arms. He felt her muscular biceps, then slipped his hands up to her armpits, which let him marvel at the smoothness of her scales. Then his palms inched closer and closer to her breasts. Fizit drew in a quiet, hissing breath, squirming ever so slightly. But she definitely didn’t pull away and she most definitely didn’t say ‘no’ when his hands cupped her full breasts. He squeezed her through her T-shirt, and Fizit crooned.
“Yessss, we trade with them. And this was marked as trade...”
“I trust Mary,” Liam said, quietly. “And you should too. If she’s keeping something secret, it’s because she can’t tell us.” He smiled. “Come on. Let's take advantage of Meg’s incredibly stupid decision and, you know...” His smile became wicked. Very wicked. “Upset my mother a bit more.”
“She’s almost getting used to the idea of you as a conquering hero,” Fizit murmured, her eyes closing as Liam started to really play with her breasts. He squeezed and cupped and caressed them, finding the hard points of her nipples and teasing them, T-shirt or no. Fizit hissed, then gasped, then finally squirmed out of his grip. She turned around, her tail lashing as she put her finger to his chest.
“We should head back to Purgatory to figure this out,” she murmured.
“Later,” Liam said, his hand going to her hand. He took her palm to his mouth, kissing it gently. Then, without quite meaning it, he stammered. “D-Do you ever wish you were my wife?”
Fizit looked taken aback. “I’m not?” she hissed. “I thought Brax was a fairly good piece of evidence to the contrary.”
Liam flushed. “I meant with a ring. A ceremony. All that.”
Fizit smiled slowly. Her teeth were quite sharp. “Yes. You could stand to buy me more jewelry.”
“T-That’s not what I meant,” Liam stammered.
Fizit leaned forward. Her nose bumped against his and her voice dipped into an even more quiet purr. “Liam Vanderbilt. I am your spymaster, the mother of your child, and quite possibly, one of the few people in the world who could kill you without taking a scratch.” Her clawed finger pressed to his throat and Liam felt a shiver of almost erotic terror run from his spine to his balls. His cock surged against his pants as she teased the sharp point of that claw along his skin, letting him feel every crevasse and curve of his throat as if it was a new organ, just by feeling the contrast between razor sharp claw and soft, soft skin.
Fizit’s eyes flickered like molten gold. “Do you think that if I wanted a title and a ring I couldn’t get it?”
Liam gulped. “I am so fucking horny right now, I don’t even think I can speak English, Fizit.”
Fizit smirked. “Exactly.”
And Liam took advantage of the fact that, while he was no longer as wealthy as he was as the Free Lord of Babylon, he was still on a world with plentiful, inexpensive T-shirts. His hands grabbed onto the neck of Fizit’s white shirt and he used every iota of strength he had. The T-shirt didn’t even stand a chance. Tatters went flying and her green and gold scaled breasts bounced as she pounced on him with a raptor-like snarl. Her clawed fingers sunk into the pillows to either side of his head as she kissed him. Her tongue plunged down his throat and Liam grabbed at her ass. His fingers hooked onto her shorts and he tugged. Her tail got in the way.
Fizit reached back. Her claws did to denim what Liam’s sword arm did to her shirt. As the tattered scraps of fabric hit the ground, Liam slapped his hand against her rump, sending a delicious jiggle through her whole body and breaking the kiss. Her tongue slurped free from his mouth and licked from his cheek to his ear in one smooth motion as Fizit rolled her head back. She hissed, her tail lashing as Liam leaned up and bit her neck, grabbing her and rolling.
Fizit snarled and tried to fight back, but she had never been quite as strong as Liam when it came to the upper body. And her legs were far too busy being locked around his hips and grinding her hot, hungry sex against his bulge for her to use any of the astounding muscles that let a lizard leap ten straight feet. Liam pinned her arms over her head as Fizit panted heavily, which set her breasts to heaving in the most delightful way. His grin was wide and eager as he murmured. “Now, how to enjoy you, my pretty little captive...”
“Oh, we’re doing that?” Fizit growled, her eyes flickering with amusement, lust and feigned fury.
“It’s been a while,” Liam said, shrugging.
Fizit snapped her teeth, then spat in his face. It was a remarkably accurate hit – splashing against his cheek without actually getting near his eye. Liam laughed, indulging in his best melodramatic villain, then wiped at his face. “Feisty!” he leaned forward and kissed her. Fizit squirmed, mashing her breasts against his chest as she arched her back and wriggled and generally did the best worst job at trying to escape that Liam had ever seen. Best, in that she was grinding her every soft curve, every sleek limb, against his body in a sensual delight. Worst, in that she never actually managed to get him off her. Her tongue pressed against his as if she was trying to keep him from kissing her, but it surrendered as he pressed more against her muzzle, his hands going to her shoulders, then her back, then her ass, cupping her fiercely.
When Liam broke the kiss, Fizit gasped and snarled. “I’ll never talk.”
“We’ll see about that,” Liam purred. He lifted her ass, so that she was mashed back against the slightly shredded pillows. Holding her up with one hand on the small of her back, Liam drew away and smacked her rump with his palm. Her hips rocked as her tail pressed to the bed, giving some extra support to her lower body and legs. It was a neat trick – a way to get her ass up into spanking range while letting her sprawl comfortably on the pillows.
“Ah!” she gasped, her eyes closing. “Bastard.”
There was a way that Fizit could say the word ‘bastard’ that set Liam’s blood on fire. They didn’t play this game often. But when they played, Fizit seemed to revel in it. And Liam got to do something he hadn’t done since he had lain Neb, the submissive librarian. It felt like several lifetimes ago. But his hand sure knew what to do. His palm cracked against her ass, sending a body-rocking jiggle through Fizit. The jiggle set off patterns of glittering and sparkling from her scales that was nearly as entrancing as the way her belly muscles tightened and her breasts bumped against her muzzle, her head tucked forward against her chest. Her eyes were lidded and she hissed out. “You call that a spank?”
Liam started to slap her ass with a will – taking advantage of the position and Fizit’s own inherent toughness – and soon his own palm was tingling and sparking with the after-sensations of contact with Fizit’s perfect ass. By now, Fizit was twisting her head from side to side, hissing with every slap. Finally, she cried out: “S-Stop! I’ll talk!”
Liam grinned and then slapped her ass once more. Fizit’s back arched and her thighs spread and he could see her scaled sex. It was smooth and hairless and glittered with her arousal, clear juices slicking her mons and making her clit glint as temptingly as an emerald. Liam licked his chops and let Fizit’s back down, his arm aching faintly with the weight of her body being held up for so long.
She sprawled there, panting.
“So? Talk,” Liam said, slowly lowering himself down, his lips brushing her neck.
“I love you,” Fizit whispered.
Liam smiled, slowly. “Is that the state secret I’ve been spanking you for the last ten minutes to hear?”
Fizit turned her head, looking into his eyes. “When have I said it to you before?” she asked, her voice soft. “I’ve asked you to make love to me. But you can make love to anyone. You have made love to many.” She touched her finger to his chest, her voice husky. “But I’ve never said those three words. And in my line of work, being specific matters.” She paused. “I. Love. You.”
Liam gulped, slowly. “Whoa...”
Fizit’s palm pressed to his chest. She rolled him onto his back. Liam let himself be moved – and shivered as Fizit’s claws slashed out, cutting his pants off of him. Now they were shrouded and surrounded by tatters of their old clothes. But all Liam could see was the smooth grace of Fizit as she swung one leg wide and settled above him, her tail curving and arching around so that the very tip was pressed to the base of his cock, keeping him aimed upwards. Her hips rocked down and her sopping wet sex pressed to the tip of his member. She hung there, looking down into his eyes.
“I love you too, Fizit,” he whispered.
Fizit grinned, slowly. “I knew that, Liam. I am your spymaster. Aren’t I?”
And she sank back. The quiet grunt that escaped her was nearly the most erotic thing Liam had heard all night – it was the faintly shocked sound of a woman, once more, being impressed with his size. He didn’t know if Fizit was faking for his ego or if she had just gone without for far, far, far too long. He didn’t care. What he did care about was watching her rock up, revealing a few inches of slick cock, then rock back down, taking even more of him into her vice-tight pussy. She churred quietly, rocking back up again, then pressed down once more.
Third time was the charm. His thighs and hers met and her tail lashed like a whip as she let her tongue loll out of her muzzle, her eyes closing.
“Yesssssss...”
Liam reached up and caught her hands. He tugged her close and he kissed Fizit deeply. She started to bounce herself along his cock, her silky depths squeezing around him as her hips rose and fell, rose and fell. Each soft slap of skin on scales set off that delicious jiggle in her breasts, and each time she kissed his lips, then broke the kiss to gasp in some extra air, Liam moaned. He slid his hands from her hands to her shoulders to her back, to her hips, marveling at the perfect hourglass of her form, thrusting up into her. As he thrust and thrust, Fizit started to gasp out.
“Now, ah, fuck, that I have your attention, Ambassador,” she crooned, her eyes half closed. “Ah, gods, yes, fuck me!” She closed her eyes, rolling her head to the side. Her grin was wide. “Fuckyes. Ah!” She shook her head. “We do need to discuss the, ah, supply shipments.”
Liam laughed. “God, Fizit, do you ever stop working?”
He slapped her well-spanked rump. Fizit cried out so loudly that Liam actually glanced at the walls nervously. Modern houses weren’t exactly built for soundproofing in mind. Hell, considering this was California, he was lucky they had insulation at all. Then Fizit was rocking herself faster, the bed squeaking as she leaned forward. “Babylon is still our responsibility, Liam. We, ah, are here to ensure her people are safe. Not just, hhh, the United States or the people, ah, fuck, yes, of Earth!”
Fizit bit down on one of the shredded pillows to keep from crying out as another frisson of pleasure shot through her, her sex tightening so much that Liam nearly slipped out of her cunt. As she shuddered, Liam closed his eyes and took advantage of what she was offering him. Nothing like disquieting questions of realpolitik to keep yourself from cumming until your lady was finished.
And she had a point but it felt almost like treason to think it.
Liam closed his eyes. Who did he owe his loyalty to?
The United States? The land he had been born in, the country he still loved, despite everything? Or Babylon, the land he had been given responsibility over, the land he had ushered into a new age?
Fortunately, Fizit took that worry from him by tightening her sex on him like a fist as she climaxed again. Her whole body shuddered as her tail wrapped around Liam’s ankle and squeezed tightly, almost popping his fake foot off as she came. The feeling of her sex and the feeling of her pleasure and the slick heat of her juices dripping along his balls were all enough to send Liam over the cliff and into pure, utter bliss. He emptied himself into Fizit, shuddering as he arched his back and bumped his balls into her.
In the aftermath, Liam sprawled underneath his lover, panting slowly.
“We’ll ask Mary. Later,” Liam murmured.
Fizit nodded, her voice sleepy. “Good.”
The door opened. Meg tottered in, her wings drooping. “No more Legos,” she mumbled, walking past the bed and then toppling to her side. Her wing nearly knocked Liam and Fizit from the bed as she sprawled there. Meg groaned.
“Told you,” Fizit and Liam said.
***
“All systems are online,” Quinn said, looking away from the borrowed United States Air Force laptop. The Babylonian magicians who had deciphered how it worked had set up a fairly simple operating system – it turned out, apparently, translation spells worked on programming languages. Quinn had been fascinated to see lines of symbols like {s and /s and odd words like dir and sys and root transform before her eyes into: “Go here. Do this. Display that. Access this.”
It had let them alter the United States technology to suit their own needs.
“Good!” Kailee said, rubbing her palms together as she sprawled on her chair. Quinn had known, from the instant they stepped aboard the bridge, Kailee would be more in love with that chair than she was in love with anything else. Save Quinn, of course. At least, Quinn hoped she still ranked higher than the chair. It had been carved specially for Kailee, sized to fit her in her smaller form. It could swivel along a bronze post, angling towards each of the consoles in the triangular bridge. It was comfortable, but it looked imposing as hell.
It gave Kailee all the pleasure of being on the wheel with none of the ‘needing to stand’ parts.
Quinn looked back at her screen. She, being the best alchemist on board, was on the Life Systems and Support console. Here, the laptop was literally wired to a set of simple Ancient machines that had been salvaged from the Endless Mine and re-purposed to sniff the air and tell her exactly what was in it. One of the other machines from that mine would produce and control nanites, which would take carbon dioxide molecules and convert them to oxygen molecules. And that was the simple part of her console. It also included the water systems, the radiation detectors, and the like. Looking at the console, she saw that the entirety of the ship’s ice shield was ready.
That had been the final touch, the piece de resistance. The wood and copper hull had been coated with a thick sheeting of ice, which had been frozen solid. Water was an excellent insulator, an excellent radiation absorber, and, in a pinch, excellent ablative armor. And with her alchemical skills, she was fairly confident she could handle ice.
“We’re receiving a radio burst from HQ,” the goblin in charge of the radio set said. Kailee kicked off the floor to swing her chair around. She beamed.
“Put it on!” She rubbed her palms together.
The goblin in charge of the radio set – Lt. Xeno – flicked a few switches. He adjusted a wire. Kicked a bit of machinery. The United States Air Force had had no idea that their communication gear would be re-purposed like this, and Quinn wondered if they would be offended to see such a messy, kludged together mass of different circuits, wires, and crystals. The magical amplifier had been her suggestion – based off the same magic that Kaliee used to channel energy into her riastrad – and it would ensure they’d be linked up to Babylon even at some distance.
“Greetings from Babylon Command, Morrigan’s Kiss.”
Kailee grinned fiercely.
That had been one of the very last requests. Before she fully took command, she had demanded that the ship be given a name of her choosing. The Admiralty had gritted their teeth, but accepted it. And a good thing too; Rocinante was a silly name for a ship.
“Captain Kailee,” a warm, husky, female voice spoke. “This is Free Lord Mary, calling in to wish you all a good maiden voyage.”
“A pleasure to hear from you, ma'am,” Kailee said, her voice practically overflowing with pride.
“This is an unprecedented moment in the history of Purgatory – of the whole solar system,” Mary continued. “A synthesis of three different forms of technology and the blessing of the gods themselves, to do something that the Earth has never accomplished. For the past two years, Purgatory has been in awe of everything we’ve seen from Earth, in stories and songs. Today, we take the first step to make Earth in awe of what we can do.” She sighed. “You may launch when ready.”
Kailee grinned. “Helm?”
Ensign Adisa nodded and started to flick switches.
In the belly of the Morrigan’s Kiss, three spheres began to move. They were gloriously complex things – nested skeins of crystal, with layers of lubrication to allow smooth rotations without grinding and friction. The outer spheres, though, each bore an enchantment. They had enchantments from the gods of wind and sailing and sea – Poseidon had only been the first. The Tuatha and the Aesier had both given enchantments as well. The effect was simple: within the spheres blew an endless wind. But contained within the sphere, that wind roared to no purpose. An endless loop of motion.
The inner spheres, though, contained clouds of nanites, blown about in that wind. They danced, unharmed, around one another in complex patterns that were familiar to anyone who had sneezed into a cloud of dust.
On the helm, Ensign Adisa pressed a button. A borrowed laptop and keyboard sent an electrical signal into a jerry-rigged piece of Ancient technology. That electrical signal sent a command to those nanites. In a single instant, an electro-static charge surged through the inner sphere and the nanites formed into a gauzy sail, adhering to the sphere. By shaping themselves along a complex pattern that had been designed by nearly a dozen magicians using scrying magic, divination from gods, and technical knowledge from a suite of books delivered by Boeing Aerospace as part of a trade deal with the United States, those nanite crafted sails were able to catch the wind.
The inner spheres then moved against the outer spheres.
And the outer spheres, contained within cross beams within the center of the ship, pressed against the ship.
And so, the Morrigan’s Kiss began to move.
They had done quite a bit of experimentation with the trapped winds, asking the gods to dial the speeds up and dial them down. Hurricane force winds destroyed nanite sails. Gentle breezes provided too little thrust to make a measurable impact on the Kiss.
But a headwind that was exactly the kind that Kaliee would have used on the Platonic Sea?
That was enough to send the Kiss gently drifting down, out of the long disused cargo bay-doors of the Purgatory research facility. From the outside of Purgatory, it didn’t seem to drop. Rather, it floated upwards, away from the pitted and scarred surface of the moon Charon. A needle of ice and bronze, a ship of magic and technology, the Morrigan’s Kiss looked like a near perfect shadow in the dimness of the distant sun. But in the minds of Babylon Command, standing about the radio transmitter, it glowed like the spear of Apollo himself.
“We are away, Babylon Command!” Kailee’s voice crackled over the radio. “We can see space outside with the cameras. It’s beautiful! Over.”
“Take it easy out there, Captain,” Admiral Cochrane said, frowning as he turned on the radio transmitter. “We have a few paces to put you through before we move onto an actual mission out there. Over.”
“Aye, aye, admiral! Over.”
***
Cochrane put the radio down. He looked at Mary. She was the only member of Babylon’s command staff not literally beside themselves with joy. Several were clapping. Others were cheering.
Mary, though, looked solemn.
Cochrane frowned. “You did the right thing, Madam.”
“Did I?” Mary asked, her voice bitter. “When Liam finds out what we’ve done – why we’ve done it...” She looked down. “I don’t think he’ll ever be able to trust me again.”
Admiral Cochrane nodded. His eyes drifted from the table of maps and plans. To the red vellum scroll that contained the orders he would send to the Kiss once their shakedown cruise was complete. The name was all that was visible.
Project Ragnarok.
Cochrane sighed.
Liam Vanderbilt would not be happy about this.
He would not be happy about this at all.