40,000 souls snuffed out in an instant; the endless void that stretched beyond the viewport speckled with a hundred blossoming coronas. The command bridge was deathly quiet, minus the deadening thrum of the dreadnaught's cooling tachyon cannon. To call our victory bittersweet would be ridicule.
Several officers rose from their station along the array of terminals, pressing crumpled berets against their breasts in a somber display. Some wept, but most slumped forward in place, wrestling with the consequences of the compliance.
"Grand Admiral," I began, words laced with anger and immutable grief, "12,500 of our own — half of the fleet — gone. Their blood is on all of ours hands; was it worth it?"
A long pause. Grand Admiral Victoria von Kruger had yet to face us, her steely gaze set upon the artificial nebula that now stretched across the bridge's wide aperture. She was dressed in the black uniform of her office, adorned by silver stars on each shoulder and golden epaulets on her collar. A golden chain draped over one breast, the only color in the Grand Admiral's attire other than the silver stripe down the middle of her ebony cloak.
A contented sigh escaped pursed lips, "Your question is rhetorical."
Rhetorical? I retorted, "That's all you have to say, Admiral?"
"'Grand' Admiral," Victoria emphasized, "and the answer is yes. The Empire has won a decisive victory, but that does not mean it will be without cost. We've made heroes of the fallen; do not forget that"
The yawning void of the viewport, dappled with the distant flicker of dying ships, cast an eerie backdrop upon our cold-blooded commander. My eyes wandered over the grim faces of those assembled, all staring at the Grand Admiral, waiting for her to address us in face. She finally did so, and her gaze fell upon me; icy orbs that shimmered with megalomania.
"Victory comes at great price, Lieutenant," Victoria spoke softly, "and this is no exception. Do not forget yourself. I am the hand of The Empire, you, and all those under my command, are me blade. Tools to be utilized. Your actions are guided by my orders, your loyalty to the Empire is rooted in my word. Fealty is demonstrated in service, and the only way you can prove it is by following my orders to their end. If I order you to throw yourself into the heart of a supernova, do it without hesitation."
Her eyes turned to the viewport once more, "We have won a momentous victory today, the enemies of our glorious cause have been reduced to cosmic dust. Now, fall in line, lest you join them." The sharp clack of her thigh-highs echoed about the bridge as she crossed to the center of the room.
I stood rigidly at attention, watching as the rest of the crew followed suit, though many cast glances back at me. They were confused, uncertain what was expected of them. We had been victorious, yet they felt like pawns in some grand game. I knew exactly how they felt, and if there was one thing I despised, it was being made a fool of.
Victoria raised a gloved hand, "Lieutenant, a word in my quarters."
I nodded, presenting a full-form salute. Even still, I could feel the mask of subordination slipping, the illusion of compliance wavering with each twitch of the brow; I hated this woman. "Of course, Grand Admiral."
We walked in short strides, the silence of our stroll to her chambers betraying a measure of unease between us. She stopped before her door, and I assumed she was about to dismiss me, but instead she opened it and gestured inside. I entered, closing the door behind me.
"I must have a word with you, Lieutenant."
While I was eager to exchange 'words' with the Grand Admiral, I couldn't shake a an impending, unmistakable dread.
***
"Entertain me, Lieutenant, do you recall the bombardment of Istvan II?" Victoria mused, pouring a glass of wine from a decanter. There was a cold efficiency to the Grand Admiral's quarters. Ivory walls, traced by crimson luminescence, mirrored the rigid nature of the quarter's owner.
"Vaguely, Grand Admiral."
She sipped the dark red liquid, savoring its rich flavor, and then set it aside. "It was a victory of sorts, but the cost was steep. I ordered the fleet to fire on the surface of the planet, to emulsify every trace of life that remained; man, woman and child. If I recall correctly, several thousand of our infantry were killed during the orbital shelling."
The scars of Istvan II still haunted me, "Yes, Grand Admiral."
She swirled the wine in her glass, gazing at the swirling burgundy, "Do you know why I did it, Lieutenant?"
I paused, unsure of how to respond. The truth, or something close enough. "No."
A faint glimmer of unsettling euphoria sparkled across Victoria's eyes, "Because every piece of ordinance, every man and woman, every scrap of ordinance has been adjudicated by me. I am the Imperial Fleet. I am the Emperor's right hand. If I say the world of Istvan II is nothing but a smoldering husk, it shall be so." The weight of her ego was crushing, madness veiled as zealotry. Maroon locks bounced at the slight intonation of her voice, lips curled into the beginnings of a grin. Victoria von Kruger was utterly insane, if not wholly enchanting.
"If I am to speak plainly," I struggled to hide my rising frustration, "your wanton disregard for the lives of our people is–"
"Their lives are forfeit unto me." The Grand Admiral interrupted, rising from her chair and circling the desk between us. Her steps were measured, graceful, and silent, as though the floor itself feared her wrath. She reached up, placing her hands on my shoulders, and leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear, "Every single person in this fleet is my property; do not count yourself excluded. If I say they live, then they live. If I say they die, then they die. It is my right, my duty, to see to the protection of the Empire. Do you understand, Lieutenant?"
My blood boiled, but I swallowed it down, "Yes, Grand Admiral."
Victoria's grip tightened and relaxed in slow intervals, "Mmm, I can feel your anger. It is a familiar feeling, I suppose. I sense it welling within you, that same resentment I have seen in others, but you are my finest instrument, no?"
What was this pleasure? Was it a test, a trial to see if I would challenge her authority? I was supposed to be loyal, obedient, subservient. Yet here I was, rebelling against the most powerful woman in the galaxy.
"You please me, Lieutenant. I can taste your resentment, that obstinate itch; delicious." Victoria spoke softly, her words like a warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders, "Like all my other tools, you will serve me as I deem fit, and in ways that no other shall. You will come to crave it, to hunger for more. I have need of you, and you will serve me well."
Her words left me numb, and I felt myself falling backwards into the abyss of her hypnotic gaze. My thoughts were muddled, chaotic, and the desire to submit to her was overwhelming. I wanted to obey, to kneel before her and beg forgiveness. I was ashamed of my own weakness, but I was helpless to resist.
My silence was enough, "Then you understand, splendid. Now, allow me to instruct you in the ways of obedience." Victoria's fingers trailed down my chest, her touch light, yet insistent. I shivered as she brushed a finger over the golden epaulet on my shoulder. She whispered along the outer edge of my ear, "What are you?"
I trembled, "A tool, Grand Admiral."
A gasp, as Victoria's velvet clad fingers clasped the base of my throat, "and what a fine tool you are." There was little I could do but submit, oddly aroused by her ministrations. I had never experienced such an odd sensation; a budding taste for defeat. The subtle pressure of her grip led me into a kneeling position, nose inches away from the radiant heat between Victoria's thighs. Her dark, silken gown parted, revealing a patch of alabaster skin, the delicate curve of her hip. Like a starved animal I licked my lips, wanting to taste her, but instead focused on the faint aroma of lilac.
"Eat."