They came out of no where and attacked every major city on the planet in the most sophisticated coordinated strike in human history. No corner of the planet was spared; from the European Union, across the American Empire to the Asian Alliance and down the Africa United Republic States were conquered with incredible ease.
It was the year 2452, a hundred years after the worst war and plague man had ever seen. They were the gal'karr, a race of blood-thirsty warriors determined to conquer the known universe. Population fell from four and a half billion down to a few hundred thousand in a matter of seconds. And of the few survivors, only a fraction managed to escape and set up makeshift armies, scattered throughout the wasteland the planet had been turned into. For over a century, humans fought back, planning skirmishes against the invaders; there were more loses than wins and the last free humans knew the end was near...
- Taylor -
To say I was pissed would've been a major fucking understatement. I might have even killed the bitch on sight if the cool air outside hadn’t lowered my blood pressure on the brisk walk/not-quite-run from my squads barracks. And that, as homicidal as I felt, was probably for the best. After all, she was my best friend and empress of what was once the largest empire in human history before shit hit the fan on a worldwide scale. We may be as close as siblings, alright, incestuous siblings, but pulling a loaded gun on Her Highness wouldn’t sit well with her barely pubescent bodyguards, Cory and Toby.
Those cocksucking ministrys, though, would most certainly appreciate her demise and that I could not abide.
No, I could never kill her, and not just because the punishment for high treason is insanely brutal be even Tudor-era standards. No, even though there were numeroustimes every week that I imagined smashing that pretty little crown with a mallet while it rested atop her pretty little head, I’d fucking die for her before ever hurting her.
But I will cuss a bitch out, which I do. A lot.
Even when she infuriates me with her fucking logic and reason, which I knew she’d try the moment I crashed through the doors to the War Room screaming and yelling and using “fuck” in every fucking way I could think of. But it wouldn’t work. Not thistime. She’d gone to fucking far.
So, yeah, royally fucking pissed. And I must’ve looked downright psychotic as I rounded that last corner cause when poor Toby and Cory saw me, the color drained from their normally nicely tanned faces. It was the way I imagine children used to look back when they could afford to fear the imaginary monster under the bed. Those must have been glorious days.
Now, the monsters were real.
Oh, and when I said barely pubescent, I meant it. They were kids. If it were a different century, they’d be getting ready for their first school dance.
These two would never even flinch when face-to-face one of those scaly, cold-blooded alien invaders who decided Terra was a good place to call home but me on a real bad day? I scared the fucking shit out of ‘em.
So because of my inability to hide my emotions as usual, the wonder twins were ready to piss themselves, or possibly shoot my face off and the raised and slightly shaking guns aimed at my forehead demonstrated. Because I’d rather not test a nervous twelve year old’s trigger finger, I decided to step back and take a few very needed deep breaths. Once I was confident I no longer looked threatening, I showed my face again and let the wait begin.
Truth be told, these two looked like they’d lose a fight to a housecat; they were all of a hundred-fifty two centimeters, maybe, and about forty-five kilograms. I swear, if times were different, they’d be defending the playground and not the empress. Also, I bet they’d have something on their feet.
Unlike soldiers, who had almost enough protection from the elements to wage war, the royal guards, those who never left the compound, made due with torn up jeans or shorts. Shoes were only for the very lucky – which the twins were very much not.
My world doesn’t even know what it meant to be a child anymore yet children are pretty much all that’s left nowadays. At double digits, Cory and Toby were practically middle aged; only ministrys ever seem to make it past twenty-two. Fucked up seeing how they were the ones least worthy of a long life – all they do is try to grab more non-existent power and prestige. Assholes.
So, yeah, I waited. I waited for the two of them to realize that I wasn’t going anywhere until I said my piece to our empress. Eventually, they would just step aside and let me do what it was I was there for. Because they’re loyal to her, they’d wait until her meeting was over. Because they were also my brothers-in-arms, they wouldn’t aim their weapons at me again unless I provoked them.
Fucking invaders make life too fucking complicated.
- Lita -
Fucking ministrys. All but one of them were greedy, self-centered, power-hungry bastards out to steal my crown. Yeah, cause that was worth so fucking much. When will they realize that there is nothing left of our people’s way of life left to split up between their non-existent bank accounts? Or maybe they did know but just didn’t care. Why not rule over a barren wasteland? Either way, they were not to be trusted; at any moment, one or all of them could go Ides of March and turn me into a bloody pin cushion. Thanks, but no.
If only I could find some proof of their treason, I could have them dragged outside and executed in very painful and very invasive ways. But that’s just a sweet dream that will probably never come true.
Fucking ministrys. What good is a fucking crown if I can’t just kill whoever I damn well please? Fucking nobles and their fucking protected status. And here they were, in the middle of a fucking war council arguing over ways to improve their own fucking stations. As usual, I left them to their pathetic bickering knowing full well they’d eventually tire of fighting over barren earth and hormonal teenagers and direct the topic of discussion to my audacity.
See, even though I am head of the American Empire, or rather, what little remains of it along the east coast of what was once the United States of America, my ministrys hate it when I exercise my constitutionally-granted powers. Even when I use them tohelp my people, unlike them who only wish to help themselves.
So I was patient. I knew they’d turn their aggression towards me for allowing Delta Squad to go on their mission. All I cared about was their success and safe return. The ministrys would see it as me snatching power that wasn’t mine, even though it is. They worried over money they’d never have while I worried over how many soldiers might be lost.
When did leaders begin doing that? Have they always or did that begin when soldiers began being too young to grow proper pubes?
Fucking scaly cunts and their maniacal obsession with killing everything on Terra. Honestly, if they’d asked nicely all those years ago, we would’ve fucking shared. Butno, they’d rather be dicks. Fuckers.
Finally, as I was ready to start ripping chunks of red hair out with worry over my the very risky mission, my wonderful ministrys were finally beginning to unite to come after me for what they would undoubtedly refer to as “imperial overreach” cause, you know, that’s somehow a fucking thing.
“You had no authority to authorize a military campaign without involving me! Article 5, Section 8, Clause 4 of the Constitution of 2137.” Clarissa Haduk, the Ministry of War, was very protective of her position, especially when she had no actual power to do anything more than sit there and look… well, not exactly pretty but let’s not be too cruel here. This bitch loved to quote the constitution the same way religious extremists used to quote their holy books back before religion was finally abandoned; cherry picked and twisted to suit the day’s needs. “‘The Crowned Imperial shall make no declarations of war nor command any portion of the Imperial Armed Forces without the prior consent and agreement of the Ministry of War.’ Thatwould be me.”
“Very good, Clarissa; quoted verbatim from your favorite source. Unfortunately, you forgot about the rest: ‘…in a time of War as declared by the Imperial Senate.’” This was going to be fun.
“And they did declare.” Robert Merrison, Ministry of the Treasury, was always willing to defend his bedmate chimed in as if it would make a difference. “As we are currently in a state of war-”
“While you are correct, Robert, you too are forgetting rather important details. The Senate must renew the declaration of war every six months, otherwise we default into peace. Seeing as how the Senate was annihilated thirteen years ago, they’ve been unable to cast their votes.”
“As the constitution does not set forth any rules or even guidelines dealing with war without an active Senate, they decisions default to the crown. Again, me.”
“It’s not as though we can’t figure out what they would have voted.” Alana Myers, the Ministry of Commerce, actually thought that argument would work.
“According to the constitution, we have no idea how they would have voted and all of you know it. Now, are you all finished trying to usurp my power?” I’d been running things for less than a year and already I was so fucking tired of the constant bullshit; every damn day, one of these jackasses challenged my authority to rule. They seemed to believe that youth and ignorance were one in the same. The truth was, I knew more about the laws of the empire than all of them smashed together. Since my father died when I was twelve, they’d been effectively running things as co-regents, though how they ever worked together I may never know. When I finally reached majority less than a year ago, they lost all their yummy power and have tried to wrest it back at every bullshit opportunity. “Now, as for Delta Squad and their mission, I used my authority to approve their mission. They came to me with it and, though risky, there was also merit. And no, before any of you ask, I will not be sharing the details with any of you as it is classified.”
That’s when the room exploded. In an instant, they lost their collective shit. After a tantrum that’d make a three year old jealous, some semblance of order returned to the proceedings by David Forsight, the Ministry of State, who, of course, made his opinion known. “As ministrys, we are given top level clearance in all matters of the empire.”
Clarissa was fuming. “Especially me.”
“You all have the clearance I grant you. And in this case, I do not grant you any.” They could argue all they want. If they wanted to play games, I’d fucking play. Difference is, I’d win. All they could do was be pissed off and that didn’t bother me at all.
Clarissa looked ready to leap over the table at me. “How dare you.”
It was this very moment that I was ready to pounce; I was fed up with their shit and more than eager to go medieval on her stuck up ass but a loud banging and many inventive uses for “fuck” echoed though the room. Taylor had heard the news and I knew what that meant: more screaming at the empress, though at least his tantrum was justified. Mostly. I could easily shut him up with “I’m in charge so fuck you” but he deserved better than that. Him I’d let yell before rationally explaining why he shouldn’t be angry. He hates when I do that but it always works.
“Alright, everyone out. Meeting’s adjourned.” They just stared at me, as if wondering how dare I tell them what to do. You’d think they’d not fight about the small things but no, they just keep it going. “Out. Now. Or I let Taylor take out his frustrations on all of you.”
That got ‘em moving. In no time at all, every ministry save Merrick Carmichael, Ministry of Education (which was really the only ministry who still had something to do in out post-apocalyptic nightmare). He would insist on staying, afraid of Taylor going too far. Sweet but if Taylor ever did, which he would never do, the adorkable Merrick wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.
- TO BE CONTINUED -