A Counter Revolutionary Interlude

A vision of things to come...

Castel Stirling, Novy Moscva

Eden, Edenstar System

Pentagram Cluster, Solar Hegemony in Exile

Barron Charles Perrault Rubat swallowed heavily as Lady Regent Elise Rhomanov-Stirling, followed closely by ranks of bodyguards, stormed into the room where he was being held, along with all of his ideological allies in the Political and Media Mogul worlds, they had, each of them, been detained early in the morning by SolarianHegemony INSEC forces which had swooped down upon each them without warning, in a well coordinated operation, as far as he knew, no warning or word had gotten out to the rest of the Party either.

Commodore the Freiheer Yang of Yang's Bazaar, across the table from Charles, immediately stood and bowed in a show of 'everything is normal, I'm not intimidated in the least', merely saying to Lady Regent Rhomanov-Stirling, "There you are Lady Elise! Your men have been most rude and unsolicitous to our persons and rights as peers of the realm!"

Icy blue eyes, just regular blue, not the deep blue-in-blue of those who regularly used dhole-water for life extension, regarded the eponymous Yang coolly then swept an ice-cold gaze across the room, the the frosty and winter-like unconcern for their individual or collective lives in her gaze caused everyone in the room to stop talking. Then after staring each of them down individually, she turned to the tall and scarred veteran in half-plate and Roman collar next to her.

"Sir Father-Brother Ignatius, is the State of Emergency enacted for the SolarianHegemony and the EarthDuchy declared by Commanding General Ungern-Sternberg and affirmed by the Parliament-in-exile still in effect?"

"It is your Grace," replied Father Ignatius.

"What about the State-of-Insurrection and Martial law, Father?"

"Those Acts of Military Government are in effect and have not been rescinded your Grace."

"Are you a member of my Petite Regency Council as First Lady pro tem and Regent of the SolarianHegemony and Earth Duchy for my Lord my Son Arcturus II?"

"I am your Grace."

"Are you also an Armigerous member of my Personal Household?"

"You know it, your Grace."

"Then bear witness to this summary Court Martial, Father."

"Very well your Grace, so witnessed."

"I find each of you summarily guilty of materially supporting enemies of the SolarianHegemony, ErathDuchy, and House Rhomanov-Stirling, of Treason to the same, lese-majeste, and plotting against the life of my Lord my Son Arcturus II Rhomanov-Stirling."

Voices babbled forth at once, each tripping and falling over the other in a rush to deny the charges. Except for Charles, Charles froze as Lady Rhomanov stared him down, again, with icy certainty that he was personally guilty. She knew, the clever bitch knew, he didn't know how, but they had all been betrayed.

INSEC must have had a mole in the Party, or maybe his wastrel of a daughter had rolled for more dope. Not that 'how' mattered in the end. All that remained was damage control. Charles glanced at Commodore Yang and shared with him a subtle nod, it was time to extract the remnants of The General's old Kadets from this doomed alliance, and sell the cursed rot-rabble down the river, saving their own families in the process, not coincidentally.

Lady Rhomanov-Stirling made a dismissive wave at the BlackWatch serjeant in full-plate powered microtalos armour, who turned and barked a parade ground order magnified by external loud-hailing speakers and the enclosed room, "Silence!"

"Thank you Serjeant York," said Lady Rhomanov-Stirling, "Now, yes, now that we have established that your miserable sinner lives in fact belong to me, does anyone of you wish to offer a service to the State in exchange for my Mercy?"

"Never! You foul tyrant! The people will rise up against your arbitrary and reactionary government! Do your worst bitch!" Lady Fatimah of Irem stood, visibly shaking in her rage, face flushed in passion, spittle flying, "You forget, my kind are not afraid to die!"

Lady Fatimah continued on in that vein, launching into a veritable sermon regarding the historical inevitability of the replacement of the Feudal Aristocracy by the Commercial Bourgeoisie and then in turn that the Bourgeoisie would be overthrown by the Laboring Proletariat, this old labourism was mixed together with proclamations on the justice and historical inevitability of non-European and Female vengeance against European and Male centric power structures and the elimination of all class and caste and gender based hierarchies.

Lady Rhomanov started laughing halfway through Lady Fatimah's diatribe, hiding her face behind her fan as if at court or a ball, even as Lady Fatimah's own putative allies cringed and averted their gazes, shuffling as far away as could be got in the confines of the small meeting room, as if to superstitiously avoid their own contamination from her obviously suicidal descent into open radicalism and treason.

"Do excuse me my dear Lady Fatimah, that was terribly rude and uncouth of me, as your liege and overlord, I should of-course take your words with all due respect and the seriousness that they no doubt deserve. Serjeant York?" she said, turning to the armored man who had moments before shouted the crowd of progressive lords down, "your side arm please."

"Your Grace!" sounded off the soldier as he snapped to attention and crisply unholstered and handed his liege lady his model of 2711 Arisaka-Enfield photon pistol, butt first, snapping the pistol grip into Lady Rhomanov-Stirling's outstretched and black-lace glove covered hand (there was a funeral today after all) in a display of parade ground snap and precision.

"Now," said Elise as she pointed the handgun at Lady Fatimah's face, which went bloodless and white as her eyes crossed themselves as they stared at the blank, black eye of the three centimeter self-focusing objective lens, which whirred as it focused on Lady Fatimah. Then Elise squeezed her trigger and the heavy service photon pistol let forth a tremendous echoing crack! of thermally displaced air, then hissed with a blast of steam and heat as the powered action cycled and ejected a spent combination coolant-casing and heat-sink to tinkle musically on the tile floor, and Lady Fatimah's head exploded like a melon in a microwave, blowing blood, brains, and skull-fragments against the white-washed wall behind her now slumping form, splashing red like an exclamation mark, before the former Lady Fatimah thumped headless and heedless to the floor without any further ceremony or remark.

Elise raised her gun hand to a high port arms and slightly turned to the remaining guilty parties, smirked, and said, sweetness and light shining on her face, "would anyone else care to negotiate?"