Chapter Text
La Belladonna—Part One--Prelude
Archopolis—Terra
Imperial Fleet Headquarters—Special Task Groups Command
“Are you sure you want to do this, Morgan?” Fleet Admiral Count Alexei Kuznetsov, asked, his heavy Russian accent at once betraying him as hailing from Novaya Zemlya, one of the first colonies established with the Empire’s founding in the early 22nd century. “Leaving the other names out of the discussion for now, those two…” the burly admiral jabbed his finger at the images of the two women on his padd, “…have so many reprimands for insubordination and conduct unbecoming on their records that it’s a miracle they’re serving in the main Fleet and not the Border Service or on a penal ship or station.”
“Most of those counts stem from charges filed against them by incompetent and/or corrupt titled superior officers and administrators and because they’re both of commoner birth, the charges remained on their records.” Vice Admiral Bateson countered, “You’ll also note that they have received several commendations for bravery and service—in the case of Rosza, earning the Silver Palm of Gallantry and the Emperor’s Laurel, and Flores, the Knight’s Star. Like it or not Alexei—they get results.”
“And that is the only reason why they are still commissioned officers in the Fleet—regardless of their awards and decorations.” Kuznetsov harumphed. “So…what do you think they’ll find out there?”
“I’m not sure.” Morgan admitted with a sigh, “But if it’s what I think it is…what some friends of mine from the old days ran into long ago…” memories of a lovely woman with olive complexion, luscious dark hair, a brilliant smile, and a delicate perfume flashed in an out of his mind “…then we are facing something far worse. The tip of an iceberg that could be far greater and more dangerous than anything either of us have faced before…”
“And we have both faced a lot of bad shit.” Alexei remarked with a wry grin.
“That we have, old friend.” Morgan laughed. Getting serious once again, he sighed, “I’m not sure what’s out there, Alexei. There’s only one way we’re going to find out. And that’s to send someone there to take a look.”
“And you think Rozsa and Flores can deal with whatever it is?”
Nodding his head, Bateson affirmed, “With a good ship and crew and maybe a little help and some luck, yes—I think they can. They’ll get the job done, Alexei. Just give them the same chance you gave me when we first met.”
Taking a deep breath and exhaling, the Russian admiral relented, his lips turned up in a grin, “Khorosho. All right. I’ll approve their promotions and also Rozsa as Captain and Flores as First Officer of the Belladonna.” Sighing, he remarked with a crooked grin, “I’m going to have to think of something to give Commander von Jager or I’ll have his father, the Margrave, breathing down my neck.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something, Alexei.” Morgan laughed.
“Da…Da.” The Russian admiral affirmed, “Maybe command of a starbase…perhaps Starbase 19?”
“That should work. It’s a prestigious post. Daddy should love that.” Bateson chuckled before asking, “And the others on the list?”
“I’ll approve them too—although I’m not sure why you want them—they’re a rogue’s gallery all on their own—even before adding Rosza and Flores into the mix.” Alexei agreed before sounding a cautionary note, “I hope you’re right about this, Morgan.” The burly admiral shook his head, “Because if you’re not…then everything might be lost.” After a momentary pause, the Russian admiral pleaded, “I have to know one thing, tovarisch.”
“What is it old friend?”
“Why the interest in Rosza? You’ve been following her career since she was an ensign and on at least three separate occasions intervened to keep her from being courtmartialed. What is so special about her? Granted, she is a phenomenal pilot—in all my time in the Fleet I’ve only seen a dozen or so like her, but she’s also a born troublemaker. Insubordinate, impulsive, and she makes even the most decadent aristocrat seem tame by comparison. What is there about her that makes you want to look after her?”
His lips turned up in a winsome smile, Morgan answered his friend’s question, “It’s because she reminds me of someone I knew once—a long time ago.”
“You mean before you…”
“Yes.” Morgan nodded, heaving a sigh, “From my old life. She’s just like her. Even resembles her a little in looks and…like Rosza…my friend was also of Hungarian descent—different family name though.
“Do you think Rozsa might be…”
“Liz’s counterpart in this universe?” Morgan finished, shaking his head, “I thought at first she might have been, but no they’re totally different people. Leaving out details like their different family name and lineage, there’s just enough physical and I’d wager genetic differences between the two of them to rule out their being each other’s counterparts. But…just like Liz, she’s impish, impetuous, hypercompetent, hedonistic…”
“A pain in the ass?” Alexei laughed.
“That too.” Morgan responded, joining in the laughter. “But…just like Rosza…Liz was always there—as a captain…an officer…and a friend.”
“That’s who we need now, tovarisch.”
“Amen to that old friend.”
A few days later…
“Hurry up or we’re going to miss the first round!” Eliza Flores, her olive skin glistening with sweat, panted as she and her partner dashed down the street to their destination, the Victoria Arena located on Manuel Megas Boulevard.
“Don’t worry, dragam. We have plenty of time. The line at the gate hasn’t even formed yet.” The woman running next to Eliza laughed. An attractive, petite woman with strawberry-blonde hair and freckles and speaking with a thick Hungarian accent, her body glowing with beads of perspiration on her alabaster white skin. Zsuzsanna Rosza leered as she gazed lasciviously on the nearly naked form of her lover, dressed as she was in a fine spider silk loin cloth and matching top. “I do so love the perfume you are wearing, dahling.”
“I’m not wearing any perfume, babe. You know that.” Eliza quipped, licking her lips as she eyed her equally nearly nude companion. “It’s just little ol’ me.”
“Mmmm…little ol’ you is scrumptious.” Zsuzsanna, better known by friends and enemies alike as Zsa-Zsa, purred, “I could eat you alive.”
“You already did. Just an hour ago.” Eliza giggled, “It’s my turn next—don’t forget, you promised.”
“I always keep my word, dragam.” Zsa-Zsa chuckled as the pair arrived at the arena entrance, the gate opening after the duo passed their hands over the sensor, instantly transferring the admission fee from their bank accounts. “Come on, I spotted a couple of really good seats. If we move fast enough, we can nab them.”
Eliza agreed, her lips turned down in a sneer as she gestured with her thumb towards a couple who had also entered the arena “Commander Frohlich.”
“That seggfej. The one whose team we beat in last month’s Fleet Games.” Zsa-Zsa grimaced, “Didn’t you call him a…what was it…”
“A cross between a Klingon Hahjvav and a Cardassian gutfish.” Eliza laughed, “It was worth the ten days restriction I got for it.” Glaring at the pompous aristocrat, the raven-haired daughter of common laborers snorted, “We better hurry or that titled asshole and his whore will take our seats.”
Her lips turned up in an evil grin, Zsa-Zsa quipped, “Frohlich’s not going to mess with us—not after the ass-kicking we gave him and his crew last month.”
“Yeah.” Eliza smirked, “That Pareses Squares match was fun. Didn’t you break his nose?”
Laughing, her Hungarian lover affirmed, “Igen. But let’s not forget that you scored the winning points and the victory party they had to throw for us was even better.”
“That was fun.” Eliza grinned as the pair made it to their seats in time, beating out their titled rival who, deciding not to challenge the pair for the choice seats, settled for giving them a derisive glare before moving on to another section. Glancing at the program on her padd, the olive-skinned woman remarked as she showed the schedule to her partner, “This looks interesting—Ahav Th’viarhat, the Andorian Winter Festival champion is going up against a holographic Klingon houndmaster controlling a pack of wild Klingon targs.”
“Sounds promising.” Zsa-Zsa remarked as she perused the program, “Isn’t Ahav ranked in the top ten this season?”
“Top five.” Eliza corrected, “He grabbed the five spot after beating V’Sal the Reaver in last month’s Birthday Games.”
“That’s right!” Zsa-Zsa recalled, “He was dual wielding with hrisal and chaka and V’Sal was using a lirpa and ahn-woon.”
“Yeah.” Eliza affirmed, “Ahav managed to get close and took V’Sal out with a twin fangs slice and dice maneuver. If it weren’t for the arena safety protocols that were put in place a few years ago when Jerome issued that Edict, V’Sal would have been killed. Instead, he got a few bruises and cuts, but otherwise came through it okay. Last I heard, he’s still in the top 25—but just. You wanna place a bet on Ahav or the hologram? Ahav’s 30 for 35 and the five bouts he lost were close.”
“I’m thinking Ahav. He’s having a good year.” Zsa-Zsa shrugged, “So…how much do you want to put down?”
“Hmmm…how does a hundred Imperial solidi each sound?”
“Sounds good.” The Hungarian blonde responded as she tapped her padd and then handed it to her partner, “Your turn.”
“And we’re done.” Eliza grinned as she turned her attention back to the program. “Hmmm…the first bout’s a duel."
“Lieutenant, Junior Grade Joachim Bester versus Count Ignacio Treviso.” Zsa-Zsa read from the program, “Now why do those names ring bells?”
“The two of them were stationed on the Iphigenia.” Eliza recalled, “I remember the subject came up when me and Bradley…the XO on the Iphi…we were gossiping over drinks at the club last week while you were at that meeting.” Smirking, the raven-haired Latina teased, “You missed a good orgy.”
Sighing, Zsa-Zsa moaned, “I wish I could have made it, but Admiral Bateson made it very clear to me that it was really important that I attend…that our future might rely in me being there.”
“Sounds dramatic.” Eliza probed, “Can you tell me more? What was the conference about? You never talked about it so I assumed it was classified and didn’t want to pry.”
“It wasn’t so much classified as very technical.” Zsa-Zsa recalled, “The main speaker was a physicist from the Vulcan Science Academy.”
“So what was the subject about?"
“The existence of multiple universes…interdimensional travel…time travel and temporal physics…that sort of thing.”
“Multiple universes like where those barbarians who called themselves the Terran Empire come from—as if there was any doubt as to who the real Terran Empire is.” Eliza snorted derisively, “The ones we took down at Sirach Pulsar about a year or so ago?”
“Something like that.” Zsa-Zsa nodded, “Only it got much more involved. I wish you were there, dragam. You probably would have understood it better than I did.”
“I doubt that.” Eliza grinned, “I’m no scientist. T’vela’s the one you should have taken with you. She eats that shit up. So…what did Bateson tell you after the meeting?”
Letting out a breath of air, Zsa-Zsa answered her lover’s query, “He gave me a padd and told me to read everything on it and that he’d be in touch when it was time. He also said that he might need both of us soon.”
“So…” Eliza prompted, “What was it that you read?”
“It’s…” Zsa-Zsa stammered, unsure of how to proceed, “To say it’s bizarre would be an understatement. Cross universal meetings and encounters…exotic advanced alien races…travel through subspace portals and gates…not to mention the entries on time travel and divergent time lines. Hell! I’m still trying to process it all.”
“Well…” Eliza offered as she reached over and grabbed her lover’s hand, “If you want to bounce any of that stuff off me…”
“Thanks, dahling.” Zsa-Zsa smiled, “I’ll take you up on that when we get back and after we’ve had our fun.” Growing serious for a moment, the youthful Hungarian admitted, “You’re damn good when it comes to putting pieces of a complex puzzle together, dragam. I think I’m going to need that.”
“That’s what I’m here for babe.” Eliza smiled as she waved down a concessionaire—a slender Bolian male wearing a loin cloth and ordered liqueurs for both herself and her companion.
“So…getting back to what we were talking about before we got sidetracked, what did Bradley say? How did the duel start?” Zsa-Zsa asked, changing the subject.
“It’s actually kinda sad.” Eliza replied, “He told me that before the shit hit the fan, Joachim and Ignacio were the best of friends…more than friends really…”
“Lovers?”
“Apparently so.” Eliza confirmed. “Until they went out on shore leave…and…Bradley doesn’t know for sure, but he heard that they both got really shit-faced drunk and stoned and someone said something stupid that they didn’t mean and a challenge was made.”
“And we have a duel.” Zsa-Zsa sighed, “The most common cause of duels in the Empire—next to fucking an aristo’s spouse. Did they try to patch it up? You know how these things usually go—someone says something stupid then we get a challenge and then when the two parties sober up and realize what they’ve done, they get their seconds to arrange a settlement. Usually all it takes is a public apology. Honor is satisfied and life goes on.”
“Not this time.” Eliza shook her head, “Too many people were there and heard it, so Ignacio’s family’s putting pressure on him to ‘preserve the family honor’. They were demanding that the duel be to the death, but they had to settle for first blood instead.”
“Duels to the death have been outlawed in the Fleet for the past couple of years—ever since Bateson arrived and the new Emperor appointed Admiral Kuznetsov as head of the Fleet. Not even aristos can get away with violating them.” Zsa-Zsa noted, further speculating, “Getting off topic again, haven’t you noticed that there have been a lot of reforms since Jerome took the throne?”
“Yeah.” Eliza nodded, “Can’t say I have any problems with ‘em—abolishing chattel slavery in those colonies where it hadn’t been already outlawed…setting time limits on indentured servitude and enforcing the laws against abuse of bonded servants and laborers. I know my parents were happy when Jerome got those reforms through the Diet.”
“Not to mention increasing educational and job opportunities for those like us who were born into the lower orders.” Zsa-Zsa pointed out. “Also making it easier for non-human races who were recently brought into the Empire to gain Terran citizenship, enlist in the Fleet and attend the Academy and other colleges and universities. A lot of changes have been made—most of them for the better.”
“You think it’s a coincidence that all those reforms started after Bateson appeared on the scene?” Eliza asked.
“Nem.” Zsa-Zsa shook her head. “I remember once…back before I met you—when I was still a lieutenant—the admiral was telling me one of his stories…”
“He does like to hear himself talk.” Eliza giggled.
“True.” Zsa-Zsa smiled impishly, “But usually his stories are pretty funny and…if you listen closely enough…you learn something from them. That time…” the Hungarian beauty recalled, her manner now more pensive than usual, “The conversation took more of a philosophical turn. He asked me what I would do if I were offered command of my own ship.”
“So…what did you tell him?”
“I laughed and said fat chance of that happening. You know my father disappeared when I was a year old and mother was a maid for the Radetskys. My family’s just one step up from bonded servants. I told him that it was a miracle that I even made it into the officer ranks—much less lieutenant.”
“Then?”
“He repeated the question. Told me to say the first thing that came to my mind.” Zsa-Zsa recollected, “I told him I’d kick ass. Then he grinned this big shit eating grin and told me to be patient—that my time would come and when it did to be ready.”
“Damn! I wonder what he knows that we don’t.!” Eliza pondered, then her attention drawn to the arena, she pointed, “Look! The duel’s about to start.”
The two women watched as two men, accompanied by their seconds, approached each other, each walking at a slow deliberate pace. One man was of medium height and average weight, with a muscular build and sandy-blond hair, wearing black leather pants, boots, and a loose fitting white shirt. The other man, dressed similarly, but slender with dark hair and a goatee, marched forward from the other side.
“The blond must be Joachim.” Zsa-Zsa speculated as the two duelists, meeting in the middle, paused two meters apart, facing each other. “He looks scrumptious.” The Hungarian hedonist purred as she licked her lips lasciviously
“That he does.” Eliza answered with a sensuous growl of her own. “Maybe we should check on him after the duel?” the olive-skinned beauty proposed, “Help him celebrate if he wins or cheer him up if he loses.”
“I think I can get with that.” Zsa-Zsa leered as the announcer’s voice resounded through the stadium..
“Our first bout is a duel of honor between the challenger, His Grace, Lieutenant Count Ignacio Treviso of House Treviso of the Imperial Fleet and Lieutenant Joachim Bester of common lineage, also of the Imperial Fleet. This is a duel to first blood. The referee, Commander Delix of the Iphigenia is now addressing the duelists.”
“Ho hum…” Zsa-Zsa yawned as she and her lover watched the proceedings, “Here comes the standard bullshit.”
“I am honor bound to offer the duelists one final opportunity to resolve their differences without combat.” The Denobulan commander announced, “Count Treviso? Are you willing to agree to a reconciliation should the challenged offer a public apology according to form?”
“The challenge will only be withdrawn if the challenged issues an apology accompanied by a public act of submission in the form of resigning his commission and begging forgiveness on his knees.” The Count responded, a slight hitch in his voice as he uttered his words.
“No way Joachim’s going to agree to that.” Eliza caustically remarked, spitting in Treviso’s direction, “Goddamn aristo pig.”
“Heh.” Zsa-Zsa snorted, “If Joachim doesn’t kick that little prick’s ass, I will.”
“I get first dibs.” Eliza snarled, “You can have what’s left.”
“How about this?” Zsa-Zsa smirked, “Whoever gets to him first saves enough for the other?”
“Works for me.”
“Lieutenant Bester?” The referee asked according to the traditional formula, “What is your response?”
“No. I will not apologize, nor will I agree to public humiliation.” The young officer declared in a firm voice.
“Jo!” Zsa-Zsa cheered in Hungarian, “Shove that aristo’s nose in his own shit.”
“As the challenged party, Lieutenant Bester, you have the choice of weapons.” Delix gestured with a wave of his hand to a table where a variety of edged weapons were displayed.
Walking towards the table, Joachim, picking up a rapier, tested its balance and handling. He then picked up a dagger and did the same. Nodding his head, the young lieutenant made his decision, “Rapier and dagger.”
“Hmmm…Finesse with a bit of strength.” Zsa-Zsa noted. “Did Bradley say anything about what branch Joachim was in or anything about that?”
“I think he said something about him being a junior tactical officer.” Eliza recalled, “He had a spotless service record until this shit happened.”
“And now that’s all been flushed down the crapper.” Zsa-Zsa growled, “Win or lose, he’s a permanent jg if he stays in the Fleet and he can forget about any plum assignments. He’s going to spend the rest of his career in the Border Service or steering garbage scows.”
“And if he resigns, he’ll have a hard time finding a good paying job.” Eliza frowned, “What corporations the aristos don’t own or control are owned by merchant wannabes looking to one day buy a title or office.”
“Good luck doing that.” Zsa-Zsa snorted, “Jerome put the lid on selling offices and titles last year—remember?”
“Yeah.” Eliza nodded before breathing a frustrated sigh, “But still…the best he’ll be able to manage will be maybe a junior clerk’s slot or something similar.”
“Igen.” Zsa-Zsa agreed, “You’re right, dragam. Win or lose—he’s fucked.”
“The weapons have been chosen.” Delix formally proclaimed to the spectators. “The duelists will now take their places.” As the two adversaries took their assigned places, the referee, speaking in a loud, clear voice, announced, “On guard! Begin!”
The two duelists circled each other looking for an opening. Treviso makes a lunge with his rapier only to have it deflected by Joachim’s dagger.
“Slick move.” Eliza noted, “He’s setting Treviso up. Dinner tonight that dumbass takes the bait.”
“Heh.” Zsa-Zsa laughed, “Dumbass is going to fall for it, but I’ll go ahead and take the bet. Either way…we both win.”
Eliza cheered loudly, ignoring the glares being sent her way by higher caste spectators as Treviso fell for his opponent’s trap, “Take that stuck up vole-fucker down!”
Striking quickly, the blond lieutenant, parrying his opponent’s rapier, drew close enough to the count to strike with the dagger in his other hand, slashing the aristocrat’s arm, drawing blood.
Laughing, Zsa-Zsa quipped, “I think they heard you all the way to Trill, dragam.”
“You owe me dinner! You owe me dinner!” Eliza danced, lifting her loincloth and flashing her lover along with any nearby spectators watching.
“Rendben…rendben…All right…all right!” Zsa-Zsa chuckled, “Where do you wanna go?”
“Hmmm…” Eliza tapped her chin with her forefinger, “I think I’m in the mood for Thai. How does Ayada Thai sound?”
“Works for me.” Zsa-Zsa replied.
“All right.” Eliza grinned, “It’s a date. And for dessert…” the olive skin beauty’s grin turned into a leer, “A little Zsa-Zsa.”
“I think I can go with that.” Zsa-Zsa purred, but before she could utter another word, her comm badge chirped. Gritting her teeth in frustration, the impulsive Hungarian snapped, “Rosza! Who the fuck is it?”
“Commander Rosza?” A voice familiar to both women came from the combadge.
“Shit. You fucked up now, babe” Eliza whispered, “That’s the admiral.”
Trying, but not totally succeeding in keeping from laughing, Admiral Bateson replied, “Zsa-Zsa?”
“Yes, Sir.” Zsa-Zsa, blushing bright red now, responded, now in a much more deferential tone.
“Remember several years ago when I told you that one day your time would come and for you to be ready?”:
“Yes,, Sir.”
“And then a few weeks ago before the conference and then after when I told you that our future might depend on you attending that conference and that I might need the both of you soon?”
Feeling a chill running up and down her back, Zsa-Zsa responded in a subdued voice, “Igen. Sir. I remember.”
“Well…Zsa-Zsa…Eliza…that time is now and the future might well depend on what both of you do. Meet me at Memorial Square in front of the Survivor’s Monument and I’ll fill you in.”
“Aye, Sir.” Both women answered in unison.
“Good. I’ll see you then. Bateson out.”
Taking a deep breath as she stood up, Zsa-Zsa held out a hand for her lover, helping her on to her feet. “It looks like we’ll have to put off our dinner and dessert date until later, dragam. I have a feeling the shit has either hit or is about to hit the fan.”