Chapter 1

Beneath the meter thick armor plating, visible through the augcrown that threaded against his temples, King Louis Benoit XI watched as Procyon III burned.

The saturation bombardment had begun nearly an hour before, but the death of a world could take a shocking amount of time, considering the amount of energies being discharged. It didn’t help that Procyon III’s atmosphere was a thick, methane rich soup. The shock waves from the matter/antimatter detonations rippled far, but the real killer – the firestorms and the radiation – was blunted. The exponential curve was hit by the time the killsats reached the 80th parallel. By then, the firestorms had caught, the atmosphere was burning, and the planet was truly dead.

By now, the flagship was beginning to activate the stabdrive – which would boost the ship to 0.9C and bring them away before the forward element of the Bugs got close enough to reinforce their doomed planet. For Louis, it felt like nothing more than a gentle pressure at the top of his head.

That pressure was what was left after the non-Newtonian fluid, the acceleration drugs, and the contragravitic fields were applied. It was a little staggering to think of the amount of energy being released now, not just on Procyon III and on the flagship, but also across the entire human fleet. Ninety eight stabdrives, each one creating a pulsed thread of quasi-real exhaust as their drives sucked energy from the most esoteric reaches of physics known to humanity.

Louis turned his attention inwards, focusing the augcrown’s perceptions to the QHC who were still standing up under the acceleration. The QHC looked alarmingly similar to humanity – most of them even spurned the name used by his people and preferred to simply be called ... people. But it was hard to really think of them like that as they walked unaided through the corridors of the flagship without seeming to notice the overwhelming acceleration pressure that the stabdrive put out.

One of the QHC paused in her stride, then stepped over to the space that Louis’ augmented reality self projected from. She looked into his eyes, her eyes whirring and clicking faintly. “Prince Louis, we’re receiving a transmission,” she said.

Louis forced down a tingle of fear. Had they left someone down there?

Procyon III had been an elegant trap, laid over the course of two decades – a culmination of nearly two centuries of unremitting warfare spanning three solar systems. First contact – a series of staggering atrocities in the Alpha Centauri system, culminating with the death of nearly five million humans in a single horrible afternoon – had led to war. At first, fumbling and awkward, with battles lasting months if not years. Then, elegant. Faster, Deadlier. The UPH and the Bugs both pushed their technology to the breaking point. Humanity had delved into previously restricted areas of scientific endeavor, including the creation of artificial life. The Bugs had weaponized space-time in a way that had driven several prominent human physicists irrevocably insane.

And now, at Procyon III, the hope had come that the turning point could be found.

The plan was brutally simple: Lay out a colony world that the Bugs would have to attack. Fight tooth and nail to keep their warfleets back – to encourage them to bring out their big guns. Their planet consuming swarms. Their biological ships the size of small moons. Their hive-nodes and their monstrosities that as of yet had no name in human lexicons. And once the Bugs were ensnared upon Procyon...

Burn the planet to the mantle.

“God rest their souls,” he said, quietly. “I hope...” He shook his head, faintly, knowing that the QHC could see the augmented reality illusion that was being projected into the ship. “I hope they’re AnComs at least – with backups?”

“No, sir, no,” she said – and Louis felt his heart clench tighter. That meant they were his subjects. The Neopolitanis Star Kingdom didn’t use uploads or backups or ego-forking or any of the other more esoteric technologies that the AnCom Union or the Stubjacks did. Any of his citizens on that planet would be facing their final judgment in the form of compression waves and gamma radiation any second now.

“God rest their souls,” he said, again.

“No, sir!” The QHC looked down at her tablet, brow furrowing. Louis was shocked that it was taking a QHC this long to read anything – they were supposed to be able to think many times faster than a baseline human like himself. “It’s ... from ... the Bugs.”

That stopped Louis in his mental tracks. He swore he nearly banged his actual, physical head against the inside of the acceleration tank.

“ ... what?”

“It’s coming in along a laser-pulse frequency. Uh...” The QHC cocked her head. “I’m not sure, it’s not a mathmatic code, and it’s not using Anglec or Neo-Sino.” The two chosen languages of the UPH Expeditionary Force.

“Let me hear,” Louis said, frowning as she tapped at her console. A series of harsh beeps and bloops filled his ears – annoyingly loud, the QHC had clearly not taken into account the differences in their ears. Louis grit his mental teeth, focusing. For a few seconds, he sat there, trying to figure out what on Earth it could possibly mean. His brow furrowed even more.

“That’s ... Morse.”

“Morse code?” The QHC asked. “That’s nearly five hundred years out of date.”

“They must have based it on old telescopic observations of Earth.” Louis imagined he was licking his lips. In truth, he was still ensnared in the acceleration tank, only perciving the world through the threaded nerve inputs of his augcrown. “W ... E ... S ... U ... R...” He paused, listening.

“No, what I’m wondering about is how the flying fuck do you know Morse code!” The QHC exclaimed. “I’m a hyper-intelligent trans android, you’re a baseline human cosplaying as the King of France. How the fuck do you know Morse code and I don’t?”

“We surrender,” Louis said.

“Oh, so, the Neos are going to finally admit that AnCom was right and you should use nanofabricators?” the QHC asked, curiously.

“N-No,” Louis said, barely even registering her snark. “No, no, that’s the message. We Surrender.”

The QHC blinked at his augmented reality presence. The entire ship had gone silent – every crewman was focused on him, even those in their acceleration tanks. He could feel the entangled communication devices that threaded the human fleet into one semi-harmonious whole were all kicking up, bringing his words and his simulated face to every human in every ship. “The Bugs ... the Bugs have surrendered.”

The QHC screamed at the top of her lungs, grabbed the augmented reality simulation of King Louis Benoit XI of the Neopolitian Star Kingdom, bent him down, and kissed him before he had time to think.

Thirteen Years Later

Some people thought being a prince was fun and games.

Wake up in the morning, get dressed by servants, maybe take a stroll around the Venusian palaces, enjoy some raptor rides in the jungles. Drop by the racketball court for a game with some smarmy robot butlers, then tottle off to your personal airship for an evening flying into the upper atmosphere and then riding your skyboard.

Hah.

What fun.

Prince Louis Benoit XII of the Neopolitian Star Kingdom, Heir to the Duchy of Venus, the Last and True Sovereign of the Human Race, Emperor of Titan and the Protector of India, badly wished that he lived the life people imagined he did.

“Parry high! Low! High!” Marc barked, stalking back and forth along the pathway as Lou’s rapier snapped into position, his arm aching, sweat beading along the back of his neck. His fencing partner – a combat servitor that his father had purchased for him as some kind of sick practical joke on his birthday – moved with eerie precision, using its articulated arms to thrust back at him with its own foil. “Remember, light on your feet, Prince!”

Lou stepped backwards, his blade rattling as he caught the foil, locked hilts, shoved back. The servitor bobbed away on a gusting of air currents and a whirring contragravitic engine. Lou stumbled – yelped – then froze as a cold tip of a blade pressed to his cheek, mashing up against it. If he moved even an inch, he was certain the foil would cut into his skin. The servitor remained hovering in position for an agonizing three seconds before it drew its foil backwards and intoned, in its ludicrously archaic synthesized voice.

“One. Point. To. Me.”

Lou rubbed at his cheek, scowling.

Marc shook his head, then stepped over. “Your stance is sloppy, if that was a real challenger, we’d be finding a new heir right about now.” He shook his head again. “Do you know how long the Benoit line has ruled the Kingdom?”

“Thiteen ge-” Lou started to speak – already tired, already resigned.

“Thirteen generations!” Marc boomed. “For thirteen generations, ever since the foundation of the United Human Polities. For thirteen generations, the Benoit family has kept nobility itself alive. Do you think that the rest of the houses of the Star Kingdom would do half as good? Do you think the Macchi would?” He spat. “Those half-augmented bastards would turn us into an AnCom puppet state for a pleasure pod and a wink.”

Lou bit back a scowl, a sarcastic comment and then stood up again. His palm rubbed against his cheek and he counted backwards from ten. Being angry was unbecoming of a royal. “I understand, instructor. I shall endeavor to do better.”

Marc frowned, his mustache bristling on his ebony face. Ever so slowly, he nodded. “Aye, that you will, Prince. Now! “ He turned, walking away. “High!”

Lou groaned internally as his arm lifted – his muscle already burning – as overhead, the moon floated by, glowing brilliantly even through the midmorning light. Several streaks of light burned themselves through the sky, like spokes expanding off a wheel. Stabdrives, kicking on as ships departed from the moon’s launch bays.

It was going to be a long-ass day.

Fencing lessons.

Tutors on history.

Tutors on Kingdom politics.

Tutors on the UHP parliamentary politics.

Tutors on the Bug War.

Tutors on the battles fought by his father during the Bug War.

By the time Lou was sat down at the dinner table, he was starving, aching, and felt like his brain had been mashed with so much knowledge that he was sure his brain was dribbling out of his ear. Lou pushed his fork through his greens, watching them roll around on the plate as Mother sat at the far end of the table, reading from her news feed, her eyes darting left and right.

“Any beams from father?” Lou asked, biting his lip.

To Lou, his father was a mythic figure. Titanic. Literally, as the last thing Lou remembered of him was how tall he was, how gallant in his gold filigreed and red sashed space suit, heading for the flagship of his part of the UHP fleet, the Victory. That had been ... a long time ago. For Lou, it was a bit tricky, as he and his mother stayed on a partial rotation in the cryocrypts, to ensure that their timelines and his father’s didn’t get too distorted, considering the effects of relativistic distortion on interstellar travel.

The calculations were complicated, but Lou had had them beaten into his head often enough to know that they were due for another decade long stint in the crypts soon.

It was...

Unsettling.

Mother set down her fork and said: “None yet, honey.”

Lou nodded, looking down at his plate. “So, I was thinking – since I’m due to go into the crypts soon, uh...” He coughed. “I was thinking maybe I could take a quick vacation? I hear Earth is very nice this time of year.”

“Earth is nice every time of year, honey,” she said, her voice dry. “They have enough weather control nano in the atmosphere that breathing practically makes you an aug.”

“Right.” Lou chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just, the Star Kingdom is an ally of the AnComs, I figure, I should get to see them at least once. Right?”

“Of course, honey,” Mother said. “Once you’re King, you will be meeting with the AnComs every day.”

Lou opened his mouth, then shut it. “Right.” He looked down at his plate.

A servitor whired into the room on its blanket of contragravitic energies, coming to a stop beside mother. “A priority one entangled communication wave from Geneva.”

Mother nodded. “Put it on, if you’d be so kind.” She dabbed at her lips with a napkin. The wall flickered – transforming from a replica of The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo to a feed of the AnCom ambassador from Geneva. Lou had, over the course of his life, seen a call from Geneva about twelve times, and over those twelve times, he had seen almost twenty different ambassadors. One had literally walked away from the call mid conversation while flipping his mother off and blowing raspberries, to be replaced by a different person two seconds later.

This one was a girl wearing a T-shit that said LOOK AT MY BIG FA- and the rest of the words were cut off by the angle of the camera. Her hair was shaved almost to nothing save for the top of her head, which was left normal length. Her hair had been dyed a bright green, and her lips were painted in a checkerboard pattern of green and black. But unlike most AnCom ambassadors Lou had seen, she was beaming.

“Hey, QUEENIE!” She shouted. “You heard the good news?”

There was a raucous noise coming from behind her – Lou craned his head, his eyes widening as, for just a moment, he saw what was clearly a naked man dancing on a table before the filtering software blurred out any of the interesting details. Lou flushed a bit and wished he had glanced down sooner.

Mother sighed. “Is this a prank call?”

“No, man, it’s real!” The girl leaned forward. “The BUGS fucking SURRENDERED!”

Mother, who had picked up her glass, dropped it on the ground, her eyes bulging.

The flight to Earth was the most exciting moment in Lou’s life. First, there was the shuttle ride up from Venus’ surface to the moon, which allowed him to, for the first time in his life, see the whole vast, blue green sweep of his homeworld with his own eyes. Then on the moon, they were taken to the acceleration tanks on the stabdrive pinnace that would boost them to Earth orbit in just a few hours. The acceleration tank was an experience and a half – Lou squeaked and squirmed as the pipes and tubes connected to parts of his body he hadn’t wanted anyone else to ever touch, and then yelped as the non-Newtonian liquid sludged into his body.

Unlike the warriors on the main line battleships, he wasn’t provided an augmented reality crown to wear while he lay in the sludge. Instead, he existed in a half-real, half-present fugue state created by the effect of the contragravitic fields on his nervous system. He knew the math behind the concept, even if he couldn’t think of the actual crunch while in the tank: You couldn’t reduce the force of gravity and inertia without changing how those two forces interacted. Which, itself, changed how light itself moved. If he hadn’t been filled with a bunch of sophisticate drugs and put into a nearly freezing temperature state, the changes in basic reality would have killed him. As it was, it made his brain muddled and unfocused and confused.

But that did have the nice side effect of meaning the trip felt as if it took only a few seconds.

One second, he was in a deep mire.

The next, he was looking up at an AnCom greeter, who was leaning over him. “EYYYYYY!” he said, beaming at him. “Cuntboy! I didn’t know they had any of you in the Boring Kingdom of Boring Losers.”

Lou coughed as the breathing pipe slipped out of his throat. He sat up, hacked. “What?” he asked, completely befuddled.

“No, it’s cool!” the AnCom said. He was pixie thin and had skin the color of cerulean skies. Floating clouds were projected around his body by a holographic harness of leather straps and glass projectors. “I didn’t know that you guys were even acknowledging that, like, guys can kiss girls.” He nodded. “So, are you he/him? They? Zir?”

“ ... what?” Lou blinked at him. Then he looked down at his crotch, which the AnCom had seen. His cheeks burned. “I was born biologically female-”

The AnCom winced.

“-but since the Kingdom needed a prince, I’ve ... you know...” He coughed. “Mother said that the transition will be completed once I’m betrothed. Since, right now, having...” He blushed. “Y-You know, this is like, super private and, also, who are you?” He drew his leg up, trying to cover himself. “Also, I’m a Prince!”

The AnCom put his hands over his face. “Oh god. I’m. The. Worst. I’m so. So sorry, I just ... sorry!” He put his hands over his eyes now. “Auhg. Fuck. My. Life. Oh god.”

Lou flushed. “We can put it behind us ... what’s your name?”

The AnCom groaned. “God Fucker.”

“ ... I beg ... I beg your ... pardon?”

God Fucker held out his hand. “God Fucker.”

“ ... Prince Louis Benoit XII of the Neopolitian Star Kingdom, Heir to the Duchy of Venus, the Last and True Sovereign of the Human Race, Emperor of Titan and the Protector of India,” Lou said, looking down at the offered hand. He frowned, then took it, expecting God Fucker to kneel properly. Instead, God Fucker shook his hand, making his arm wobble so much that Lou thought that his shoulder might dislocate.

“What do you protect India from?” God Fucker asked.

“I...” Lou blushed. “Clothes?”

“True, they do go- OH!”

A few seconds later, God Fucker had brought Lou’s clothing and then turned his back once Lou had coughed several times. Lou dressed, buttoning up his undershirt, tugging on his hose, his belt, his cape, his gloves, and strapped his rapier on. He adjusted his collar a bit, then nodded. “You may turn around...” He paused. “God Fucker, is that your given name?”

“No,” God Fucker said, turning. “We don’t do given names – human beings aren’t property you can just ... name.” He shook his head. “We get a string of nicknames from our parents, our friends, our new parents if we get them, culminating in getting a good and proper name. I chose mine three standard years ago.” He grinned. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“It’s...” Lou tried to think of a tactful thing to say. “Unique?”

“Yeaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!” God Fucker mimed firing off guns with both of his hands. “Come on – your Mom should be dressed too.”

“Oh, no, she’s got way more clothes than me,” Lou said, then stood up taller. He blushed. “And we protect India’s memory. As it was. That’s what the Star Kingdom is about – ensuring our history remains. Not just ... in data banks and libraries, but living.” He nodded. “And, um ... I...” He paused. “I suppose, using your terminology, I always identified as male? But even if I hadn’t, the Star Kingdom would need a Prince.”

“ ... so, like ... they’d ... electrocute you or something?”

Lou shook his head, smiling shyly. “No, no, no, not that bad. I’d just be married to an eligible male before I hit twenty one.”

God Fucker shook his head slowly. “Are you sure that’s history that’s worth keeping alive, my dude?”

Lou opened his mouth, to correct him about the proper term of respect. Instead, he said: “Lou.”

“Lou?”

Lou blushed. “I ... if ... I ever had friends, I ... kind of thought I’d like to be called Lou.”

“I dig!” God Fucker grinned at him. “Come on! Lets see if your mom’s as hot in person as she is on the holos!”

Geneva itself was a wild forest – sprawling and beautiful, with trees growing along the hills. The ancient city that had been here, during the 21st century, was gone save for a few buildings that had been voted on by the Anarchist Commune as being worth preserving. Looking through the window of the spaceplane that slowly, gently arced through the atmosphere towards a landing pad that had been constructed in a meadow. “Where is everyone?” Lou asked, his brow furrowing as he pressed his face up against the glass. God Fucker, who was lounging in one of the comfortable chairs that dominated the main body of the space plane, laughed.

“Underground, mostly,” he said, nodding. “In simspace, for most of them.”

Lou nodded.

“Simspace,” Mother said, shaking her head, slightly. She stepped over to the window, murmuring to Lou. “These people spend their entire lives in worlds that aren’t even real. Remember that, honey. Remember this.”

Lou nodded, but all he really had eyes for was the landing platform.

There were people waiting for them – and some of them were shining and chrome. As the spaceplane came in to land, Mother took his hand and walked with him to the gangplank. One of the chrome people came up and Lou looked a this first Quantum Human Computer. Superficially, she looked a lot like a human woman who was made out of gleaming chrome, with thin seams at her joints and her neck. But underneath her glowing blue eyes, Lou knew that her brain was actually a massively complex quantum computer that was able to actually ... know itself. In the same way that he knew himself – she was self aware.

Of course, some days, Lou felt like everyone else knew himself better than he did.

He wondered if the QHC ever had the same thoughts.

“Prince Louis Benoit,” she said, bowing. “I’m Amy – the quantum entangled duplicate of a QHC who is serving on the Victory.” She coughed, not meeting Mother’s eyes. “Your father told me to tell you that he’s very proud of everything he received in your last beam – and that he’s happy that he’s going to be home soon. The initial peace negotiations are over and the Bug envoys are actually heading for Alpha Centauri for the in depth peace talks.”

Lou nodded, excitedly. “S-So, father is coming home?”

“Not quite,” Amy said, smiling. “Come on, lets get the speeches out of the way.”

The landing pad had a small set of stairs that led itself to the forest, and here, under the trees, the United Human Polities held their meeting. There were technically five members of the UHP. In actuality, there were seven thousand eight hundred and ninety two. Or maybe it was the other way around? The Anarchist Commune, the Plurality Federation, the Federated States, the Neopolitan Star Kingdom and the Upkin were the five who had representatives. AnCom was the largest, but their representative was the least politically astute, as she had been chosen by random lottery (since, as far as Lou could tell, zero percent of the AnCom actually wanted to be involved in anything so governmental as interstellar politics.)

“Honestly, I’m just a fry cook,” Beatrice said, cheerfully, looking entirely unconcerned with the fact that the UpKin and the Feds were all glaring at her. “When I got the ticket, I figured, hey, I’d get to shake hands with some pretty famous people. Never thought I’d actually have to give a speech. But here I am!” She nodded. “If you ask me, interstellar politics is a lot like a good stir fry...”

Mother sighed quietly from her seat, muttering behind her ornamental fan. “This is bad comedy.”

The Upkin representative was next. Suspended in a float harness, the neo-cetacean spoke in chirrups and whistles that were translated by two bald headed, gray skinned, almost naked women who’s very presence made Lou look directly into the neo-cetacean’s blowhole rather than risk glancing at their chests. One of the women signed in the most common sign languages of the UHP – the other spoke in Sino, which Lou could follow tolerably well. “We do not forget the song that was silenced on Charon. We do not forget the millions of our pod who were struck down without mercy. But we recognize that we are the victors in this battle. We only hope that the rest of our race recognize this as well. The bugs did not ask for peace! They threw up a white flag! They screamed their need for peace on las-coms! We must not forget this!”

Lou fidgeted in his seat. The Upkin’s speech kept going for ten more minutes.

The next to give a speech was the Plurality. A woman, with five floating spheres, each containing a human brain surround by a nimbus of wires and cables, stood in the center of the medow, her arms lifted as she spoke in a musical language called French, translated to Sino by the same gray skinned woman who had worked with the Upkin. Lou was more fascinated by the orbs floating around her head than her – she was rather dumpy woman, all things considered.

However, the Plurality’s speech was interrupted halfway through when she said: “And so, we shall work together to find a unity with our brothers from another star-” and jeering came from both the Upkin and the Feds. The Fed – a man dressed in a black great coat with ice cold blue eyes and hair the color of the setting sun – stood and shouted.

“This is a farce! We haven’t agreed to any cessation of hostilities – the peace treaty hasn’t even been SIGNED yet!”

A creeping, horrified feeling hit Lou.

Was...

Did...

Was he going to actually have to give a speech?

Was that why he was here. He looked at Mother – but Mother was too busy watching the Federated State representative be held back by the AnCom representative, while on of the Upkin – a huge, furry, orange orangutan, shouted at the top of his lungs: “Civilization! Are we not a civilization! Order! Order!”

“I didn’t fly all the way from Jove to listen to this JACK BOOTED FASCIST!” One of the brains shouted, using their own internal speaker.

“How dare you!” The Federal representative jerked his gloves tighter. “Instantiate yourself into a physical body and say that again!”

“You’re wearing LITERAL jackboots!”

More shouting.

Amy, who had walked up onto the stage, stuck her metal fingers between chrome lips and blew. Hard. The whistle she sent up was piercing and shockingly loud and made Lou clap his hands over his ears. When the whistling stopped, Amy dropped her hand from her mouth. “So! Since we’re all done giving speeches...” She said.

“I didn’t get to-”

“You gave up your right when you tried to assault one of our members,” Amy said, scowling at the Federated States Rep. “And besides – the UHPEF fleet has put together enough energy to punch a huge hole through space time and they’re about to broadcast straight from King Louis Benoit XI himself – so, uh, if you want to waste the extravagant expenditure of exotic particles and making space time our collective bitch, feel free to keep interrupting me!”

Everyone quieted down.

Lou gulped - and Mother found his hand, squeezing it tightly, her breath catching.

Amy closed her eyes, then lifted her head. Her body trembled – and then ... a subtle change came over her. It was a chance in stance. An alteration in how her mouth moved. A tone of her voice. Suddenly, she was not Amy, the QHC. She was King Louis Benoit XI himself, standing inside of her body through some combination of augmented reality synthesis and the quantum entanglement connection between the her that stood here and the her that was accelerating away from Procyon at stabdrive velocities.

Then a shimmering hologram shrouded her and the personage was replaced with a true image of...

“Father,” Lou whispered, unable to stop himself.

His father looked nothing like him. He was square jawed and heroic and...

Classic.

Not like Lou at all.

“Greetings,” Father said. “I am speaking to you from the bridge of the Victory – to tell you that the rumors you have heard, the initial reports you have read, are true. They are not merely true, but they are true in every detail: The Bugs have had ENOUGH!” He swung his hand wide. “They have, they say, consumed every other race they have met in their ten thousand years of history. First upon their world, then in their own home system, and then in two others. Never before have they met a race that they could not overcome and devour ... until now.” He slashed the flat of his hand into his palm, a fierce, chopping gesture. “Humanity is too tricky. Too tenacious. Too damn tough for them!”

Despite the rancor that had been stirred up earlier, this provoked a cheer. Even Beatrice looked as if she was caught up in Father’s charisma. She thrust her hand into the air. “Fuck yeah!”

Father nodded. “We have agreed to begin deep negotiations with the Bugs on the world of Charon – the site where this very war began. And there, we shall ensure that this peace lasts not just for the reign of my son, but for the reign of his son, and his son beyond that – by ensuring that Bug and Human civilization are wedded together and driven into a future more glorious than anything that has gone before.”

Lou nodded, smiling. This was exactly the kind of speech he had read about in his history books – and to hear it from his Father’s own lips (well, through a robot lady quantum connected to another robot lady who was being puppeted by his father using an augmented reality interface) was another thing entirely. He nodded at Mother, who smiled back to him.

“Send your envoys to Alpha Centauri, to Charon,” Father said, seriously. “I will be here – and I will be requesting that my son, Prince Louis Benoit XII, come as well. In a tradition as old as the human race, we shall end this war and bring our people together with a wedding.”