The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Zhaoze was kilometer upon kilometer of grey-green grass, speckled with islands of darker green trees. It glittered with the reflected sun from the water the grass stood in.

As the AATGV descended the slope, Margot could see almost all the way across it. “How far is that?” she asked. “Eighty kilometers? A hundred?”

“One hundred twenty-two, at this point,” Stone said. “Or so said the datapad when I consulted it. One hundred twenty-two kilometers of causeway, with occasional island. To the west, it’s mostly tidal; at this point it’s mostly freshwater. The McFadden river flows south along the Spine and empties out into the Zhaoze a couple hundred klicks east of here; all that water then slowly makes its way west—as this.”

“You know,” Margot said, “if the causeway has been broken anywhere along that length...”

“We’ll deal with that if we have to. The AATGV can handle the swamp. The groundcars... eh. Let’s just hope that no one’s seen fit to break the causeway. I don’t see why the xenos would.”

“Fair enough. The AATGV’s riding pretty smooth,” Margot observed. “Cruzado-Liu did a good job.”

“She’s a bang-up technical,” Stone said. “And Han-Harris seemed to know what she- hang on.” Stone reached back and clapped on the half-bulkhead behind Margot’s seat. “Corporal, look sharp! We got something coming up!”

Ahead of them the road reached the bottom of the slope and turned right to cross a sluggish body of open water between the mainland and the swamp. It did so over a bridge which arced high enough for small craft to cross beneath. At the top of the bridge there was some sort of obstruction—a structure and several walls.

“What is it?” Margot asked.

“Not sure. Looks like a roadblock. Corporal, you up?”

“Roger that, Captain,” Han-Irinov called down from the turret. Her feet were kicked into the straps on the raised interior floor, just behind the bulkhead.

“Get the others on the radio, tell them we’re going to be approaching with caution and they should be weapons ready,” Stone said to Margot.

Margot relayed the message to the other two vehicles.

They turned right and began ascending the bridge. There was a concrete barricade at the top, waist-height grey segments stretched across the road. There was a small gatehouse near the middle, and beyond it there were a pair of vehicles, each the size of a bus. The closer of the two had a thicket of antennae jutting high from its roof and waving in the wind.

They approached slowly, crawling up the bridge, fifteen kilometers an hour.

“See anything?” Stone called to Han-Irinov.

“Nothing moving,” she called back down.

They drew closer, and closer. Margot saw no one, either behind or in front of the concrete walls.

“There’s no one there, Captain,” Han-Irinov shouted.

There wasn’t. The green barricades were unmanned. The segments on the right were five meters closer than the segments on the left, leaving a path between the two; the small guardhouse stood between them, empty, its retractable arm raised in the air. Stone carefully turned the AATGV into the opening. Margot scanned for mines, but the concrete surface of the bridge was smooth and clean.

The guardhouse was window on three sides with a door on the other. They peered into it as the AATGV rolled slowly by; it was possible that someone was crouched down inside, but it looked empty and abandoned.

The AATGV rolled past the edge of the rear barricade wall, and turned right, pointing across the bridge once more. Other than the wind, nothing else moved.

Parked against the bridge railing, just beyond the barricades, stood some sort of mobile command center, an unmarked silver trailer with dark windows. Other than the cluster of antennae on its top, it looked much like a recreational vehicle one might take on a trip to a campground. A second vehicle, similar but without the antennae, was parked next to it, just slightly downslope. Both had their doors closed.

For a moment, Margot thought of Naigurh, the recreational vehicles that had pulled into the parking area. These were different, more impersonal, unmarked silver rather than painted with vacationing motifs. But they could easily hold as many people.

“No markings,” Stone said. “They’re not EVDP, they’re not SSDF, they’re not Imperial... whose checkpoint is this?”

“And where are they?” Margot asked. “Should we get out and check inside?”

Stone hesitated. “If there is someone here... I don’t want to leave them behind us. We’d be cut off. And if there is someone in there, we should ask them if they know what the situation in Zhuetia is. Belangier, you mind taking a quick look?”

“No problem.”

Margot swung open the door and hopped out. Cruzado-Liu was navigating the patrol car between the barricades, and the Essex was behind it, waiting its turn. Margot waved at Junipero in the patrol car’s passenger seat, indicating the silver M.C.S., and Junipero gave a single wave back.

She debated taking out her pistol as she approached the silver vehicle. The door was closed; could there be crawlers inside? No reason to think there were.

Margot stepped up and rapped on the door with her fist.

There was no response.

She tried the handle. Locked. She rapped on the door again. After a moment, there still had been no response. Margot turned around. Han-Irinov had the RKT pointed directly at the door, was watching intently. “You want me to break in?” Margot called to Stone. “Or check the other one?”

Stone shook her head. “No,” she shouted back. “Let’s go.”

After a second look, Margot walked back over to the AATGV and clambered inside. Stone put the vehicle into gear, and they pulled away onto the downslope of the bridge.

“That was pretty fucking weird,” Han-Irinov said, dropping down out of the turret. “Who the fucks was that, and where did they go?”

“Tsugerloi said that the Imperials kept the Jade peninsula off-limits,” Stone observed. “That was probably their checkpoint, unmarked or no.”

“So why aren’t they there now? Did the xenos get them?”

They didn’t have any answers. Margot radioed the two cars behind them; everyone was fine and wondering what the barricade was about.

The convoy rolled down onto the causeway proper, and out across the Zhaoze.

One hundred and twenty-two kilometers of smooth concrete, rising five meters above the grass and water of the Zhaoze. Now and then islands would pass by, hillocks of trees and bushes surrounded by the waving grass; frequently the trees on the islands would be speckled with white birds.

“You thought that overpass was a boondoggle,” Margot observed, staring out the window. “All this roadway for one town of... how many did you say? Two thousand?”

Stone nodded, her eyes on the road. “Mm. But this is Imperial. Stranders didn’t pay for this, the good taxpaying citizens of the Empire did. Stranders just drove the pilings and poured the concrete and deposited the credits. This is the good kind of boondoggle.”

Margot sighed. “Wish they thought that in certain other places.”

Stone gave her a look, then looked back at the road.

Pulling out the datapad again, Margot looked at the map. “So if this is an Imperial causeway, leading to an Imperial base, and an Imperial secret lab... what did the Empire want down here?”

“I have no idea. You’re the fuckfeather, you tell me.”

“Hrm. Well, it’s the bottom of the continent. Easily defensible by land—obviously. Also easy to keep people out of. It’s big, though. And it does connect more viably in the east, by those mountains.”

“Southern Spine.”

“Yeah. There’s that other road you mentioned over there. Any minerals down here? Iridium, lithium?”

Stone shook her head. “No idea. Nothing that I’ve heard of, but that doesn’t mean- look!”

Margot looked up; Stone was pointing forward—and up. Margot leaned towards the windshield and craned her head.

“Saints and Martyrs. An aircar.”

It was. Flying at fairly high altitude, heading south more or less directly above the causeway. It glinted as the sunlight bounced off of it.

“Hey, Pearl!” Stone called over her shoulder. “Aircar, twelve o’clock. Pop topside with some specs and see if you can get any detail?”

“Roger that,” Han-Irinov replied. She flipped open the hatch.

The aircar was already receding, flying south much faster than the AATGV could hope to approximate, even on the clear, straight pavement.

Han-Irinov dropped back down. “Sorry, Captain,” she said, “it was too far. Not SSDF colors, but other than that... could have been VGA. Do you think this means that Zhuetia is still in our hands? You know, human?”

“I’d be careful about assuming that, Corporal. At this point... that aircar could be piloted by brood slaves. No reason they couldn’t be flying down from Wotao, especially if that is a VGA bird.”

“But it does mean one of two things,” Margot observed. “Either Zhuetia is still human. Or it’s brood. But either side wouldn’t fly a single aircar down there if it were contested. They’d just lose the aircar.”

“Unless those were humans just trying to escape,” Stone pointed out. “They might not even be going to Zhuetia, just as far south as possible.”

“If I had an aircar and I were bailing the fuck out,” Han-Irinov said, “I’d head for the Spraydrifts. Not for someplace else on Verdis.”

Margot pointed at the aircar, now a speck nearing the horizon. “It looks like they’re headed directly for Zhuetia,” she said.

“Let’s hope they’re human, then,” Stone replied. “Because they sure as hells saw us.”

Tsugerloi was behind the wheel of the big Essex groundcar. Calla was next to her; Calla’s mother was in back with Han-Harris. Helen kept her eyes on the EVDP patrol car ahead of them, but the road was straight and smooth and their pace, set by the AATGV in front, did not vary.

It was odd to be following a police vehicle so closely. Although in a small town like Savoy everyone had known the local law enforcement, shadowing their groundcar around town was not something that one generally did. If you wanted their attention, you could honk and wave; if you wanted to avoid their attention, you slowed to let them pull away.

There had been a few times Helen had not wanted their attention.

The road kept rolling by. Helen yawned. She looked over at Calla, who was watching a flock of birds out the window.

“So,” she ventured. “You’re from Illoster, eh?”

“I-5,” Calla replied, “Yeah. I-4 is also inhabited, although they’re still terraforming there. There’s also a mining colony on I-3 and three different orbital platforms around Leander. That’s the gas giant.”

“My astrography isn’t great. Is it core Empire?”

“Sure is! Fourth wave colonization. They’ve done some atmospherics but I-5 was habitable basically from discovery.”

“Well, I hope you can get back there,” Tsugerloi said, then regretted it. The odds of any of them getting off-planet...

“Oh, we will,” Calla replied, cheerily oblivious. “I’m sure of it. I’m sorry for, you know, what’s happening, but the Emperor will come and wipe these crab-things out. As long as we’re with you guys we’ll all be safe. That gun on top of the militia car could destroy any of the big fu—, er, things, and if any of the little ones come near, I can blast them with my shotgun.”

Helen looked into the rear view mirror and caught Lynn Thompson’s eyes. Lynn raised her eyebrows in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

Looking to the other side of the back seat, Helen saw that Han-Harris was asleep.

She was tired herself; after yesterday’s nap and a whole night’s rest, she should have been full of energy, but the road was monotonous and maybe she was still coming down from that terrifying first night. With a yawn, she tried for conversation again.

“Well, I’m glad to hear your optimism. Have you been to many other worlds?”

“Oh, sure. My father’s on New Austin—did you know that Margot grew up there?—but,” and Calla dropped her voice as though her mother couldn’t hear her across the meter separating her from the back seat, “he and mom are separated so we don’t see him much. But I did go there a couple of times. And I’ve been to New Barbados, and to, uh, Restas... Restis...”

“Resthasallan,” Lynn chipped in.

“Yeah, there. They have a red sun, it makes everything look weird. They give you these trippy glasses so that you can see colors like normal, at least they say it’s like normal, but it’s not, really.” Calla looked at her. “How about you, Miss, uh, Sugar-loy.”

“You can call me Helen. No, I’ve never been off of Strand. Lived here my whole life.”

“Wow! And you’re, like, old, right? You’ve had rejuv?”

“Calla!” Lynn said.

Helen laughed. “Yeah, I am like old.”

“You confirmed don’t look it,” Calla said. “You’re really pretty.”

Tsugerloi chuckled again. “Well, thanks. You’ve been to a lot of worlds, Calla, for someone your age.”

“Yeah, Mom always says I should see the galaxy so I can,” and she pitched her voice in imitation of her mother, “make an informed choice as to which of my innumerable options I might want to invest my future in.”

“You’re mother’s a smart woman.”

“She confirmed is,” Calla said, turning around to smile at her mother. “Love you, Mom!”

“And I you, dear,” Lynn replied.

Tsugerloi yawned again, and looked at the water bottle in her cup holder. She should have brought something with caffeine to drink.

The causeway ran smooth and straight and undamaged all the way across the swamp. On the far side there was a long line of low cliffs, where the water of the Zhaoze lapped up against the rocks of the Jade peninsula. The rocks themselves were clearly sedimentary, curved and folded lines rippling across their exposed surface like painted bands on a vase.

The road aimed directly to and right up through a straight cut in the rock, rising to the higher terrain beyond. Where the causeway met the cliffs and the road bent upward there was a second set of concrete barricades. Beyond those barricades was a small plaza, a paved area flanked by a set of two square buildings.

Stone slowed the AATGV. Margot scanned the barriers with her binoculars.

“I don’t see anyone here, either,” she said. She shifted her focus to the buildings. “Traveler’s store and some sort of barracks building... yeah, it’s Imperial. Got the seal next to the door. But they’re both closed up tight. Shutters over the windows.”

“You want me topside?” Han-Irinov asked.

Stone shook her head slowly. “No,” she replied. “Stay buttoned up unless we see something. I don’t want you exposed to those cliffs.”

Margot looked up; the cliffs rose twenty or so meters more or less straight up above the plaza. They were rough, probably easy to climb, but there could have been an entire platoon lining the grassy rim and she wouldn’t have been able to see them.

The barricades here were staggered in the opposite fashion of those at the far side of the causeway, the right side forward, the left side back. There was no guardpost here, just the low concrete walls.

Moving at a crawl, Stone rolled forward past the first rank, and turned the AATGV to pass between them. Margot could feel her own pulse beating in her neck.

The AATGV turned around the second rank of walls, and rolled out onto the road beyond. Nothing moved. The flagpole in front of the Imperial building was bare; Margot could see the metal cable rattling against the post.

“Nothing here, Captain,” Han-Irinov observed. She was crouched between the two front seats. “Do we want to check out those buildings?”

“Negative. Let’s just move on. I don’t see any vehicles.”

They crawled forward while the patrol car passed between the barricades behind them.

“Spooky place,” Cora observed.

Cruzado-Liu rolled her eyes, but Junipero rose to the bait. “Where do you think everyone is?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, I know you don’t trust me, but there aren’t any of us around here either. Not that I can detect. Right, Emilee?”

Vanderbruk frowned at her. “It is as she says.”

“Yeah, I was meaning to ask,” Junipero said, “Doctor. Now that you’ve, uh, got those eyes, can you talk to Flannigan in your head?”

Vanderbruk and Cora looked at each other.

“...yes,” Vanderbruk said. “She is there, and I can... think at her. And vice versa. It isn’t talking, per se. It’s more like... pushing thoughts. Stop that,” she snapped.

Cora giggled.

“What was that?” Junipero asked.

Vanderbruk sighed.

“I pushed her the thought ‘I want pie’,” Cora said brightly. “You know, to see if it worked. For fun.”

“Please refrain from that sort of ‘fun’,” Vanderbruk said.

Cora smiled, and stuck the tip of her tongue out between her lips.

“Can you get her to shut up?” Cruzado-Liu asked. “I mean, ignore her?”

Vanderbruk sighed. “No,” she said. “And this is why I worry. As far as I can tell, this new... facility I possess, it has no off switch. Miss Flannigan cannot make me do anything, but I fear that other, uh, members of the brood, they might be able to.”

Cora tucked her tongue into her cheek, and looked innocent.

“Well, if anyone tries, give us some warning, would you?” Cruzado-Liu asked.

“I will do what I can,” Vanderbruk promised.

Behind them, the Essex rolled past the rear barricade wall, and turned to face up the slope. The AATGV, which had been idling, lurched forward again.

They followed the AATGV up the slope and out onto the rolling grasslands of the Jade peninsula. It was obvious at a glance that the climate was different here; the thick jungle of the Verdis mainland was replaced here by scattered copses of trees set among thick grass and heather, on hilly, broken ground, stretching away south and east. In the distance, running from the northeast to almost directly south, were the purple humps of distant mountains.

“Pretty countryside,” Junipero said. “Never been down here before.”

Cruzado-Liu grunted.

In the back, Cora looked at Vanderbruk and smiled.

The gusty wind batted at Margot’s hair.

She wished again that, at some point during the last week, she had been able to find underclothes. Going without a bra was awkward, and going without panties was just undignified.

She stood up and the wind immediately went right through the fabric of her camo uniform. With a shiver, she pulled up her pants, fastened, picked up the roll of lavatory paper, and walked out around the bush.

The vehicles were pulled over next to the road. With the exception of Cora and Vanderbruk, everyone had gotten out to stretch their legs. Calla was off using a different ‘facility’; Cruzado-Liu, Junipero, Han-Irinov and Han-Harris were all in a group, talking. Tsugerloi and the older Thompson were leaned up against the hood of the Essex, the wind streaming Tsugerloi’s long hair out behind her.

Margot walked through the clumpy grass and smaller bushes and out onto the gravel adjacent to the road.

Stone was by the AATGV, looking at her datapad. She turned to face the others and whistled. “Hey, drivers,” she called, beckoning.

Cruzado-Liu and Helen Tsugerloi broke off from their conversations and went forward. Margot walked over to join them.

Stone held out the datapad for examination. “It looks like there’s a turnoff only about half a klick ahead. Road 29 turns east, straight to Zhuetia. This other road, 329, continues south, eventually winding up at the very tip of the peninsula. About here is where Vanderbruk thinks Cliffgarden is.”

“That’s not far,” Cruzado-Liu observed.

“Nope. Might as well head straight there. I don’t see any reason to visit Zhuetia.”

“So twenty minutes?” Tsugerloi asked.

“Unless the road is dirt, yeah. Twenty minutes to where Cliffgarden should be.”

“How’s the AATGV holding up?” Cruzado-Liu asked.

“Well,” Stone replied. I haven’t noticed any problems.”

“Good. Don’t go crazy with the off-roading, though.”

Stone chuckled. “I’ll bear that in mind.” She looked up; Calla was walking back to the cars. “All right, let’s load up.”

There was a small sign at the turnoff. Zhuetia was 11k down Road 29; Jade’s End was 109k down Road 329, which thankfully turned out to be paved. The convoy turned right, onto the smaller road. It was wide enough for two lanes, but unpainted.

The road rose and fell over undulating hills. Occasional outcroppings of rock were visible among the tall, waving grass. A few trees dotted the landscape, almost all of them seeming to lean to one side, testaments to the unceasing, mono-directional wind.

Lynn Thompson sat in the back of the Essex and looked at Han-Harris. The mechanic had leaned up against her door again, and her eyes were closed.

Something about this moment was very powerful to Lynn. Han-Harris was almost enslaved yet she did not know it. The seed that had been planted in her brain had by now grown throughout the tissue. Soon, rather than encouraging sleep, it would simply put her to sleep, and then it would awaken her mind piece by piece as each part of her had embraced its slavery. Any parts that resisted would be dissolved, and virgin tissue grown in their place.

This same thing had happened to her, in Naigurh. Lynn remembered clearly arriving at the hospital, her relief at the sight of the soldiers. Her terror as they suddenly turned on her held her down—and held down her beautiful, precious Calla—and injected them both with sedatives.

And then, later, she had woken up. As an eager brood slave.

She had never gotten to experience—obviously—this moment. The threshold of conversion. The moment when her brain was riddled with brood roots, yet still thought of itself as human.

Lynn swallowed, unable to take her eyes from Han-Harris’ resting face.

It was so hot.

She had seen the others on their beds, the eggs resting quietly between their thighs, the feeding tubes plugged between their sucking lips, and she knew that’s what they had done with her. She couldn’t remember, of course, she had awoken into full consciousness already mobile, already serving the brood. She was grateful, eternally grateful, for what they had done to her. To be gifted with this purpose, this certainty. To live in the bliss that came with pure, unconditional, biological obedience.

Bekka Han-Harris would understand that soon. But right now, at this brief moment, she was still effectively her old, human self. She liked the things she liked, wanted the things she wanted, valued those things she valued. Feared the brood. But all that would be wiped away soon, so soon. It was irrevocable. The brood was already within her. Had already hollowed her out, tunneled through her, planted itself in every corner of her brain.

Lynn realized that her sex was tingling, eager for attention. She was programmed to want this, to enjoy the conversion of humans into brood slaves, and her body was reacting according to its nature. Perhaps it was more than that; perhaps not. Regardless, watching the sleeping woman and knowing that she was totally unaware and yet totally infested... it was incredibly erotic to her.

She kept her hands still, refrained from touching herself. Not yet. Helen was not asleep, not yet, although she too was already filled with the brood that would claim her. And she didn’t know either.

Best of all, it was Lynn’s fault. Lynn, and her beautiful daughter Calla. Calla, the brood infestor.

Lynn looked down, saw that her nipples were hard, straining at her shirt. Fortunately Helen couldn’t see those in the mirror, wouldn’t say anything if she did. With effort, Lynn managed to keep her hands away from her eager, hungry sex.

She looked up and saw Calla turned around in the front seat, smiling at her, eyes intense. Lynn smiled at her, made a brief nod, and Calla’s smiled widened.

Calla looked at Helen, who was yawning, and gave a little shiver.

“There,” Margot said, pointing.

Sure enough, there was a small building ahead of them on their right; a guardpost, identical to the one on the causeway, three big windows and a door in the back. It had a tall radio mast—and appeared unoccupied.

Stone slowed the AATGV as they approached. The guardpost sat athwart an access road, which joined Road 329 in a T-junction. On either side of the access road was a tall chain-link fence, and just behind the guardpost was an equally tall chain-link gate in the chain-link fence.

The AATGV turned onto the road. A metal sign attached to the fence read: “IMPERIAL RESEARCH FACILITY. SPECIFIC ACCESS REQUIRED. TRESPASS = DEATH.”

“I dunno,” Han-Irinov said. “Could just be some chicken ranch. Maybe we should keep going.”

“Mm,” Stone replied. “Fuckfeather, think you can get that gate open?”

“I’ll find out,” Margot replied. She opened the door and stepped down out of the AATGV. She regretted it immediately as the wind instantly blew right through her uniform again.

Trying not to shiver, she approached the guardpost, which did not appear to have power. Peering through the window revealed no one inside. The door was locked. She walked over to the gate, which stood on metal runners set into the concrete. If necessary, the AATGV could push through it. There didn’t appear to be any tire killers or traffic blockers on the far side.

However, in addition to the tall antenna on top of the guardhouse, there was a flat black panel in a post which caught Margot’s attention. Solar. She pulled the screwdriver and the stiff wire from the pockets of her uniform and knelt down at the door. It had both a mechanical and an electronic lock, but if the electronics had been turned off...

Click. The mechanical lock turned, and the door opened. Margot stepped inside and hunted around for the breaker switch, which turned out to be under the narrow desk which ran beneath the front window.

The guardhouse light came on. Margot smiled. She hunted for the gate switch—not that switch, that was the alarm—and flipped it. A gratifying sound of rattling metal and humming gears came to life behind her.

As she turned to leave, she saw a telephone handset on the rear wall. And what if someone answered? Would she have any way to tell if they were human any more?

Margot hopped back into the AATGV. “Nice work,” Stone said.

“Hey, I was wondering... are you some sort of criminal, fuckfeather?” Han-Irinov asked, as the AATGV shifted into gear and moved slowly forward. “No tar, but I know someone who... well, I knew someone who could get into places, and he didn’t get through locks half as quick as that.”

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” Margot said. “And I don’t like being told where I can’t go.”

“To the Ancestors’ fucking ears,” Han-Irinov replied. “It’s a shame we’re all going to die, fuckfeather, I am almost starting to like you.”

“Well... shit,” Han-Irinov said, ten minutes later.

They all—this time including even Cora and Vanderbruk—stood at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the sea. The wind pulled fiercely at them, and a line of dark clouds hovered a few kilometers offshore.

The land dropped away before them and all along to their left and their right, a sharp line of jagged rocks that met the ocean some twenty meters below. White lines of waves smashed against the base of the cliffs. The salt smell of the sea was strong; even this far up, Margot could feel the mist on her face.

Offshore, about half a kilometer, stood a stack, a rock island jutting upward an equivalent twenty meters, straight from the thrashing waves. The top of the island was flat—or would have been, had it not been covered with a cluster of buildings. They clung to the very edges of the rock, each standing three or four stories tall. They looked only a little like the hospital at Naigurh. Although similarly rectangular, here the windows were emplaced differently, the buildings’ edges were different, more rounded off; there had been more artistry in the construction.

Some of the windows had lights on in them.

“Well, it does have ‘secret Imperial lab’ stamped all over it,” Tsugerloi said.

“’Cliffgarden’ seems to have been a rather apt name,” Vanderbruk observed.

“But how do we fucking get there?” Han-Harris asked.

They stood at the edge of the cliff—or rather, at the edge of the road. Between them and the facility was half a kilometer of rocks and crashing waves, evenly spaced by the stumps of support columns.

“They blew up the fucking bridge,” Junipero said.

The road jutted forward about two meters to a jagged edge; beyond that, its remains lay on the rocks at the base of the cliff. Support columns, or what was left of them, rose in regular intervals from the water, a trail of stone breadcrumbs leading to the island.

“Long way down,” Cruzado-Liu observed, peering over the edge of the road.

“Landing on that rock with a boat...” Stone said, peering through binoculars. “Unless there’s a dock hidden on the far side, it doesn’t seem possible. It’s sheer cliff.”

“That’s even if we could find a boat—and I don’t know if there are any closer than Savoy,” Tsugerloi said. “There was nothing else on this side of the peninsula all the way down here.”

“Probably safe from the xenos,” Lynn Thompson observed.

“It’s cold out here,” Cora said. “May I wait in the patrol car until you’ve decided what to do?”

No one responded. After a moment, she shrugged and walked back towards the vehicles. The rest of them stood at the edge of the destroyed bridge, the wind pulling at their hair and clothes.

Margot watched Cora walking along the road, then turned to face the island. Who was on it? Did they really have a way to poison the xenos? Then why barricade themselves in?

“Well,” she said slowly, “I know where we can find an aircar.”

In the end, they all went.

Stone wanted to take the AATGV with just Margot, Han-Irinov, and Cruzado-Liu. Margot to navigate, Han-Irinov to man the RKT, and Cruzado-Liu to fly the aircar back. They’d leave the four civilians and two infested women at the Cliffgarden access road, with Junipero to watch them. But the Thompsons objected; there was nothing there, just rocks and grass, nowhere to shelter except in the cars. Junipero was uncomfortable being outnumbered by Cora and Vanderbruk, even if they appeared perfectly content to wait docilely around. Han-Harris didn’t like sitting there entirely visible to the inhabitants of Cliffgarden, whoever they might be.

And, if xenos came, the group without the AATGV would be at their mercy.

The last item was the clincher. So although it displeased Stone to be leading three vehicles into an unknown town whose status vis-a-vis the xenos was highly uncertain, that’s precisely what wound up happening.

“Maybe they could wait at the end of the Zhaoze causeway,” Stone muttered, as they turned right onto 29, heading directly for Zhuetia. “There were buildings there.”

“The same argument holds,” Margot replied. “Face it, Varra, we’re just going to have to travel together. No splitting up.”

Stone shook her head. “No one was going to happen along them out there at the Cliffgarden site. They just had to wait in the cars a few kilometers back, out of sight of the road and of the facility. The chances of xenos stumbling upon them were zero. Even the wind was a lot less.”

“You could have insisted,” Margot said. “You are in charge.”

“The civvies didn’t want to be left alone,” Han-Irinov said. She was crouched behind them in the squad leader seat, one hand on the bulkhead. “It’s hard to fucking blame them. They’ve totemized us as their security. I were them, I wouldn’t want to be left behind either.”

Margot and Stone both gave Han-Irinov a quick, appraising look.

“’Totemized’, eh?” Stone asked.

“I read the fucking handbook,” Han-Irinov replied.

“She’s exactly right,” Margot said. “They were afraid we wouldn’t come back.”

“I fucking know it,” Stone replied. “Which is why I didn’t force the issue. I still fucking hate driving into an unknown and probably hostile urbanity with two unarmed and vulnerable groundcars in tow. It makes me fucking springloose.”

Then they crested a rocky ridge and Zhuetia came into view.

Margot blinked. It was almost textbook Imperial, a grid pattern of concrete: straight roads, straight walls, the larger buildings all poured-and-stamped concrete blocks. Attractive, in its well-ordered way. It could have been lifted from almost any of the worlds she’d served on. In fact, it was even more Imperial than most—there had clearly been nothing here before, no indigenous settlement to build around. This was a pure military camp turned administrative center, the way empires had dropped themselves onto the landscape since ancient Rome.

The town was set in a shallow bowl-like valley with a small watercourse running through the middle. The rims of the bowl were rocky, almost like the edges of a crater, and from that rim grass dotted with the occasional tree stretched downward to a small ring of cultivated land around the town. It wasn’t farmland—this was not farming terrain, not in the slightest—just a small area of individual gardens and strips of tilled soil to provide fresh produce for the local distribution centers.

Or probably center, singular—Zhuetia looked to house only about two thousand people. From where the AATGV sat at the rim of the bowl they had a clear view of the entire town; the central plaza with a few four and five story buildings around it, a small ring of multi-tenant apartments around those, and then the grid of orderly straight-line streets with single-family homes. Even those were Imperial looking, probably pre-fab, probably built all at the same time.

What had brought the Empire to Zhuetia?

“Well, if we can see them, they can see us,” Stone observed. She had slowed the AATGV down to look at the valley and town spread out before them. Now she picked up speed again, as the road turned to aim directly at the center of town.

Margot raised her binoculars. She didn’t see any xenos... but she didn’t see any people, either. At this hour there should have been people in the square, people purchasing groceries or running errands or working in the garden plots outside of town.

But there was nobody. Not a single soul.

“I don’t see anyone,” Han-Irinov observed. She had also been peering through binoculars. “At all.”

“Look,” Margot said, pointing. “Tallest building, on the square. Look at the roof.”

“Aircar,” Han-Irinov said. “Ancestors’ spectral balls, there’s four of them.”

“No one up there, though.”

Han-Irinov was frowning. “I’m pretty sure that one of them’s the one that flew over us. It was far away but the colors match.”

Margot continued her scan of the town. “Where is everybody?” she said.

They rapidly got closer. The fields had crops in them and seemed like they were being worked. Faint traceries of steam rose from the ventilation pipes on the larger buildings before being whipped away by the wind; so the buildings had power.

But there was no one visible at all.

“I do not fucking like this,” Stone said, as they passed by a small plot of cabbages and between the first two houses.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna strap in,” Han-Irinov said. She put the binoculars aside, opened the hatch, and rose into the RKT turret.

They drove down the wide, straight street. A street sign proclaimed it to be Emperor Serak VI Avenue. The houses were all dark, though they did not look abandoned. They reached the apartment blocks; the lights were on in the lobbies. No one was visible.

“They’re fucking hiding from us,” Stone said. “Which means, they don’t want us to see them. Which means—they’re fucking xenos. Like those black-footed mother fuckers.”

“But why hide?” Margot said. “If they’re all xenos... they could just throw themselves at us.”

“Don’t want to die, I guess,” Stone replied. “Hell of Acid, I hate this.”

The three vehicles entered the central square.

It was wide, with a grassy area in the center. Several trees, sheltered a bit by the taller buildings surrounding the square, grew in attractive stands at the four corners of the park. A fountain blew spray into the air.

“That’s the admin building,” Margot said, pointing at the six-story structure which constituted one side of the square. “The aircars are on top.”

They drove towards the building. Aside from the wind, nothing moved.

“They aren’t flying the Imperial flag,” Margot observed, leaning against the window to look upward. “Pole’s bare.” She chuckled bleakly. “I should report them.”

The AATGV, and the other two vehicles behind it, stopped in front of the administrative building’s entrance. The lights were on behind the revolving door.

“So what now?” Stone asked. “We go in, take the stairs to the roof, and then what? Can you hotwire one of those things?”

Margot snorted. “Hotwire an aircar? No chance. We’ll need to find an operator and persuade them to part with their ID fob.”

“Hey, uh, Captain?” Han-Irinov called down. “There’s someone in there.”

Margot’s boots thumped on the faux-marble floor.

The woman was alone, sitting behind the building’s reception desk. She looked up as they approached and Margot expected to see black, liquid eyes—and was a bit startled when she did not.

“Hello,” the woman greeted them. “How can I guide you?”

“Where is everybody?” Stone demanded.

Junipero was behind the wheel of the AATGV now. Han-Irinov was still in the turret; they needed her there in case the vehicles were rushed. Tsugerloi and Cruzado-Liu were in their respective drivers’ seats, motors running.

“At work,” the woman replied. “Who do you need?”

“Is this an Imperial facility?” Margot asked.

“It is.”

“Then I’d like to speak with the administrator.”

“Of course. She’s on the sixth floor.” The woman turned and pointed. “The elevators are right there.”

“Where’s building security?” Margot asked, looking around.

“Do you need them?”

“No... but we’re two armed strangers, asking to see the local Imperial administrator... and there’s no security presence?”

The woman laughed lightly. “You’re not strangers. You are Margot Belangier, Staff Sergeant in Civil Reconstruction, currently resident with Imperial fleet Tiger Four. And you are Varra Stone, Captain in the Strand Surface Defense Force, currently resident in Helenni, Verdis.” She tapped the screen of the monitor in front of her with a fingernail. “You were scanned as soon as you walked in the door.”

“But where the fuck is everybody?” Stone asked again, leaning on the counter. “The town is deserted!”

“Of course it is,” the woman replied. “Everyone—well, most people—are in special quarters down at Fendong mountain. Imperial project. If you have clearance, I’m sure the administrator can tell you about it. Most people are only living here in town on the weekends. A few of us keep the lights on.”

“But the administrator is here,” Margot pointed out.

“Yes, and her staff. Please, I’m not sure what questions I am allowed to answer. Go upstairs and see her.”

Stone and Margot looked at each other, and stepped back from the counter.

“Corporal,” Stone said into the walkie-talkie. “Specialist. We’ve spoken with the receptionist. She seems, uh, normal. We’re going to proceed upstairs and talk to the town administrator.”

“Roger that,” Han-Irinov replied. “She say where everyone is?”

“Not in town, apparently. Fendong mountain. Some special project. We’ll try to find out more.”

“Be careful, Captain,” Cruzado-Liu urged.

“Affirmative.” Stone looked at Margot, shrugged. “Let’s go.”

They walked over to the elevator. Margot pushed the button. One of the two doors opened immediately. Margot’s fingers brushed the handle of her pistol as she walked in. Stone hit the button for the sixth floor.

The doors closed. They both looked up at the lighted numbers.

Two. Three.

“Quiet in here. Could use some music,” Stone said.

Margot dropped her head and snorted. They both chuckled for a moment.

The door opened at the topmost floor with a chime. It did not open onto a hallway but rather to a waiting room, with upholstered wooden chairs and tables with lamps on them. There were single doors on either side of the room but the wall directly opposite the elevator had a pair of glass double doors with the word “Administration” stenciled on it.

They walked over to the doors. Margot pulled on the bar handle and it opened easily.

The room inside was large, with a pair of desks on either side of them; beyond those was a low wooden railing that divided the room. On the other side of the railing there was an extremely large desk facing the entrance, covered in papers, with no fewer than eight different monitors of different sizes on the returns to either side of it. Behind the desk was a large high-backed leather swivel chair, currently turned away from them, facing the windows which comprised most of the rear wall.

On that side of the railing the room also stretched off to either side. Margot noticed additional desks to the right and left but she didn’t examine them further, because a pleasant voice from the high-backed chair said:

“Please come in, Captain Stone, Sergeant Belangier. I watched you pull up outside.”

Stone and Margot gave each other a look, then crossed the carpeted floor and passed through the low gates in the center of the wooden railing.

The woman in the chair swiveled around.

She was xeno.

Extremely xeno.

Her skin was grey—and black. The skin of her belly, her chest, her face, and her inner thighs, was a deep grey color, like the skin of a dolphin. Everywhere else it was black—not a human hue, but black like charcoal, coloring her entire arms, her legs, and from what Margot could see her back and sides as well. Where the colors met was a smooth boundary line, except for some vein-like black traceries, the same that Cora and Vanderbruk had on their necks and the edges of their faces.

This woman had those too, but the flesh of her face was not human-brown but rather slick grey. Her eyes were liquid black, as were her lips, and her nipples. She was completely nude.

Her hair was an auburn color, and seemed bizarrely normal, gathered in some elaborate twists pinned up into a fancy bun.

When she opened her mouth to speak, the interior flesh was pale—and tinted green. It was like a small, bright hole opening in a cloud.

“I’m Administrator Xu-Silva,” she said, in an entirely normal and reasonable voice. “And, as you can see, I’m also a representative of the brood.”

Stone had her pistol out, pointed at the transformed figure before them. She swallowed.

Margot licked her lips. She heard something behind her and turned to look.

The reception area was full of guards. Eight... no, ten of them. Brood slaves, liquid black eyes, wearing tactical police uniform and holding semi-automatic small arms. They had entered through the side doors and now completely blocked the room, like a second railing. Their guns were not pointed at Margot and Stone. Yet.

Margot looked back at Administrator Xu-Silva.

“We’d like to borrow your aircar,” she said.