"Well," you say honestly, "it's just a job, you know?"
To your surprise, Tango Actual nods. "I get it," it says laconically. "I don't like it, but I get it."
"I mean, I get a pension and an independent command of fifty divisions."
"That's pretty sweet," it agrees. "I don't get that on my pay."
"Not even a pension?"
"Nah, I just have the one for everyone. I've got tax credits for cybernetic surgery, though."
"Wait, tax credits for basic healthcare? That's more insulting than just telling you to pay for that shit yourself."
"I know! It's so condescending!" The barrel of the omnikiller drifts towards the ground. "What a pack of shit," it complains soldierly, "eight years in service and all I get is standard pay. I didn't even get Hegemony shells for this, you know that? And once this is over I bet the brass won't even let me keep this, because they'll same some shit about subversion risk, and, security checks, and they won't even recomp me, because this is still my shell, you know that?"
"Wait, that's still… whatever barbarian construction you were issued with, right? You didn't get like an Exalt Frame."
"Huh!" it sneers with feeling. "An Exalt Frame? On me? Perish the thought. If they handed out Exalts on the basis of competence rather than on preserving the skins of varied failsons and faildaughters we'd kick your ass all the way to the heart of your shitty Empire. Also what the fuck does this have to do with anything?"
You feel a headache coming on. "It's MARATHON-"
"-Yeah, that cheating ass shit you pull on top of your cheating ass crushing qualitative and quantitative superiority-"
"-yes, that." You like this guy. Its bitter, furious cynicism speaks to your bitter, furious cynicism. You can imagine a career with this guy at your side snidely commenting on every dumbass that crosses your path. Seubi is great but he's too much of a party animal and fundamentally optimistic for you and Luca's just straight up a moron who'll either never get it or report you for treason in thought. "It's a probability alteration matrix. It has to be, to function as a chronoclone machine. So the backwash landed on you, and turned you to a god. So in a way, we made you."
"So?" Tango Actual is not very impressed. "This here omni is Empire manufacture. And look--" just to punctuate its point, however gauche its expression, it shoots the arm off of the sand legless heap that is the officer it shot. "See?"
"Okay yeah but can you only shoot me from now on? I have to pay for these people's medical bills."
"Yeah, that's fair. Anyway, what was that shit about?"
"Since we made you," you say, confident in your spearpoint thrust of conversational reason, "you should come over to our side."
Tango Actual tilts its head. A pistol shot pings off of its armor and ricochets into the one armed limp pile of flesh. He screams. "I don't see how that tracks," Tango Actual concludes. "You'll have to sell this better."
Yes! Its indicating its got a price, and that's the first step to any reasonable negotiation. "Alright," you agree. "Let's set some base axioms, alright? You fundamentally will not turn the tide of this battle if you kill me and blow up this citadel, because as mentioned, all the lower level officers will go psycho and attempt to conquer this here Rock. Firstly, because it's more than likely that whatever idiot manages it first will get my position. Secondly, because if they quite the field now it's a round of executions for the failures. Following me?"
Tango Actual nods. "So far. So what's it in it for me, and what's stopping you from ordering me to the chop when this is all done and over with?"
"You've got your bullshit cheating probability alteration powers," you dismiss. "If I catch you it's because you wanted to be caught. Otherwise I'd be ventilated and you'd be across the border. Anyway, owing to your skills we'd put you on the front. You wouldn't have to deal with anyone that annoys you too much. All you need to do is kill and watch the number in your bank account grow larger."
"Mmhm, mmhm. I want to start at triple digits and I want political protection."
"Done," you say without blinking. Triple digits was big, okay, yeah, but compared to the costs of running your front it's nothing. "If you have family we'll move them over at our first convenient--"
Time, you wanted to say, except Luca bursted out of a nearby wall and pointed at Tango Actual. "You!" she shouts, before a hellish unlight blazed from the strange gun in her hands, turning Tango Actual's head into a puff of atoms. Eyes flashing, she ignored the room to strut peacock like to the corpse and with a hand bloody reach into the chest cavity and dig out the heart of Tango Actual.
Whereupon she ate it.
"What are you looking at me for?" she asks you, spitting out blood mixed with circuitry. "I defeated that shitter. What?"
The headache's back. "Goddamnit, Luca."
While the mop up is happening, and the last holdouts are broadcasting white flag protocols, and your troops are sometimes accepting them and sometimes not, you have a moment to catch up with Luca. "Oh, the gun?" she shrugs. "I took it off an egghead manning a MARATHON station. Blabbled some gobledegook about quantum."
"I see." Well, alls well that ends well, you suppose. Shame you don't have Tango Actual on your payroll, but you imagine you'll feel less bitter about it.
"Anyway, your plan wouldn't have worked," Luca points out to you, propping her head up on her medipod. "It killed a bunch of us."
"Most of you came back."
"Yeah, so? Its still a bitter thing to swallow. We'd try to grief it and then it's a friendly fire incident. 'Sides, some of us didn't come back. Never gonna work." She blinks at the ceiling. "Oh, and the political shit. You're usually on top of these things."
"Look, lots of the Empire's heroes have been killing each other. Who cares."
"Yeah but then they rode to the Centre with the approval of History and made themselves heroes, state sanctioned."
You smile, thin and blank. "Your education's good for something." You stand up. "I should go now. There's forms to sign and orders to give."
"Hey, better you than me."
FORMS TO SIGN
[]- FORM N-94 EMPIRE STANDARD ACCOLADES REQUEST: War (this one, at least)'s over. That means medals. And attached with medals comes fat stacks of moolah, plum positions in politics and corporate life, and land grants. Of course, since you are the superior officer, you get to choose who you get to promote into important posts relating to things such as 'milcorp liaison' and 'border inspector' and suchlike.
[]- FORM Z-40 EMPIRE STANDARD EXPLOITATION REQUEST: Bring out the vultures! Bring out the crows! Unleash the carrion dogs! You don't have the people to restructure the economies of the nations, so you can get 'em from Centre. Best of all, since you're so close to the ENEMY, you can shake down the bloodless corpos with strategic denials and approvals of protection!
[]- FORM 00-A EMPIRE STANDARD REQUEST FOR ENOFFMENT: Alright, you need to fund your men for bravery. You need to control a vast frontage of space. The solutions are found in these two problems. Get your men enoffed as provincial administrators. Let'em do what they want and when the natives complain cough and remind them who has the war fleets here.
ORDERS TO GIVE
[]- WAR (MORE PLEASE): The initiative is on your side! You won't stop until the ENEMY feels the same as you. You will marshal the least mauled fleets and conquer as much of the ENEMY's constellation of satellites and vassals as you can, just to rub it in.
[]- SHAKEDOWN (MORE PLEASE): Now it's time to remind the ones on your side that breaking faith will lead to very very very bad consequences. You can't send back your prisoners, the political extremists who think their statelets deserve sovereignty, but you can invite their relations and delegations over to the heart of your power to reassure them. And threaten them. Subtly.
[]- ENTRENCHMENT (MORE PLEASE): Alright, you need to prepare for contingencies. Plop some fortresses down on the systems that went over to the ENEMY. This will stop the ape from launching an invasion. The fact that the fortified systems would constitute a defense from both the ENEMY and forces arriving from your rear is immaterial-- after all, the ENEMY has ghost fleets that can ninja an attack from behind.
