Chapter 36 The Cost of Freedom, Rafe
THE COST OF FREEDOM, RAFE
The Fifth Chime has almost ended. I couldn’t sleep. I had to watch the surveillance file again on my private display thinking about what to do.
As expected, Terra Ka has made contact with Eve, and now we need to ensure this plays out in our favor.
The footage is grainy, obstructed, and incomplete due to Terra Ka’s jamming tech. But I can see well enough, Eve meeting the Terra Ka operative in a shadowed corner of the maintenance levels. Her body stiffens as she takes something from him and puts it into her uniform pocket.
It can’t be anything physically dangerous, most likely a communication device.
Eve is harmlessly human. Barely five and a half feet tall, beautiful, and too empathetic to kill anyone.
Terra Ka may dream of martyrs, but Eve Eden will never be one of them.
And I don’t think Gael would be foolish enough to task her with something as dangerous as murder.
First Chime has barely begun when I send the summons.
And I watch her wake on my private display.
She slowly stirs in her bed as the pale gold illumination of the Chime washes over her human skin.
Her hair is tangled, and there’s a faint flush on her cheeks, evidence of the wine she drank last night.
Deliberate indulgence on my part, but it was for a reason.
The message icon pulses above her bedside console. She blinks, confused, and then sits up fast. She touches the console, and my words flare before her eyes:
For a moment she just stares at the text, lips parted, as if reading it again might reveal some hidden reprieve. Then guilt shadows her features. No doubt she’s wondering if I know what she did in the maintenance levels.
Quickly she rises, clutching the sheet to her chest as if modesty has meaning under my gaze. She knows I’m watching. I should make her sheets transparent, but I don’t. Her bare feet touch the floor. She looks small, vulnerable, and so very human.
So perfect.
Ten minutes later, when she enters my office, she bows and waits.
I gesture to the chair. “Sit.”
Good. Her obedience is instinct now.
“You wanted to understand why reform matters,” I say, activating the holo-display. “I want you to watch something. Instructional material from our own archives. Consider it part of your professional education. Now that the Grand Championships are almost in full swing, I want you to see this.”
The projection fills the room—footage from the training rings, not Terra Ka propaganda but our own surveillance. Human pets on leashes, their skin striped from electric whips, their trainers smiling for the audience.
Eve gasps. “Is this legal?”
“Legal?” I repeat. “Yes. Every cut and every scream; it’s all sanctioned by the IGC under performance conditioning clauses. It’s what galactic civilization calls entertainment.”
She puts her hand over her mouth. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Because you keep asking why the Ascendant Alliance profits from the Championships. This is why. Because as long as we own the Championships, we can limit the damage and control the narrative. Without us, you’d see ten times this horror across the galaxy.”
She doesn’t say anything. She just continues to look at the images, horrified.
“Don’t you agree that centralized horror is preferable to decentralized annihilation?”
“I don’t know, Sovereign. If that’s true then yes. But wouldn’t it be better if this didn’t exist at all?”
“That’s the goal, but no one can make it happen overnight.”
I slow the feed to a close-up of a trembling human girl with a numbered collar. “That’s what Gael the Returner calls freedom. He breaks into facilities like this and smuggles humans away without food, medicine, or legal status. They die believing they’re free.”
The next image materializes—Gala Station’s auction floor. A blonde human woman is displayed, naked, bound, drenched in oil so her body gleams under the lights.
“Do you know her?” I ask.
“Should I, Sovereign?”
“It’s Lara, Gael the Returner’s wife. He sold her at public auction before taking her back.
Observe. The auctioneer has given Lara three minutes to climax before the bidders,” I tell her, and her erotic moans broadcast through the feed as her price rises and then the crowd roars when she succeeds. “Gael did not stop the auction.”
I switch the feed. New footage: three humans sprinting through maintenance tunnels, wild with hope. “Liberated by Terra Ka.”
I don’t speak until the next sequence begins. The man’s torso sprouts grafted arms, writhing in constant agony. One woman’s skin weeps fluid through scales. Another drags a malformed tail behind her body.
“They were abandoned at a waystation without papers or resources. They were easy targets. First, they were taken by organ harvesters, then brothels.”
The footage shifts again — the scaled woman bent over, her flesh tearing as clients use her. The man’s extra limbs bound in ways that make him scream. The tailed woman drowns in a tank while clients laugh.
“They lasted six months. Not all of them end this way,” I say, “But enough do that I can’t pretend otherwise.”
“I beg your pardon, Sovereign, but how do I know if this is true?”
I project their death certificates into the air between us. “I never lie about cruelty or death. These were not isolated cases. They are the ones we know about.”
Eve’s face is pale.
“Do you require more information? The humans who were eaten alive by Nin colonists? The ones dissected in laboratories? Or perhaps the girl transformed into an art installation, her skin and bones replaced with transparent aluminium, so collectors could watch her organs work.”
“Stop,” she whispers. Then more loudly, “Please stop, Sovereign.”
I turn off the feed. The room goes dark except for the reflection of her eyes—filled with tears, but I can tell I’ve convinced her to doubt Terra Ka enough not to run away with them, but still enough to feed them information.
“So… what are we supposed to do?” she asks with conviction.
“Help me fix it,” I say, letting sincerity color my tone. “Be the face that convinces the galaxy humans can live with dignity. The Spire is the only place in the galaxy wealthy enough to keep compassion for humanity alive.”
“Humans would listen to you if they were able to see what I’ve seen.”
“Exactly, but they don’t know me yet. What you can do, when the time comes, when others will seek you out; rebels, sympathizers, people who believe as you do—make them trust you so that you can better protect humanity by understanding all the sides of this issue.
The galaxy is a dangerous place for humans without protection.
The current system is deeply flawed, but it does grant structure.
But what Terra Ka calls ‘freedom’ is simply abandonment dressed up as righteousness.
Eve, I protect my human employees, and I will protect you.
And as for humanity’s current cage, I will tear it down, but it must be done one bar at a time. ”
“Sovereign, respectfully, what about Denise?”
Eve is too clever, I think as I answer her question.
“She is with Lord Kamos now.” I pull up a recent image.
Denise reclining on silks, with jewels at her throat and small furry pets fawning at her feet.
Her smile is vacant, but her body is unmarked.
“Pampered, cherished, and pregnant. And safe,” I add. “Not free.”
“You sold her.”
“No. It was a misunderstanding. Lorian transferred her, and then Kamos came to own her. There are rumors she wanted to be with Kamos, and judging by this picture, those rumors were correct.”
“I’ve heard different stories.”
“Eve, what I’ve told you is the truth. Lorian transferred her to a private hotel we own on the Imperial Capital Planet.
From there, somehow, she left and ended up with Kamos.
The Ascendant Alliance tried to get her back, but she said she didn’t want to come.
We didn’t believe her so we cited her contract, but Kamos doesn’t care much for laws.
Sadly, we’re not powerful enough militarily or financially to take on Kamos and his horde.
So, I want to believe that she’s happy with Kamos, and that is the goddesses truth.
” I put two fingers over my heart to show that I’m speaking the truth.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I did, but maybe not in so many words.”
Eve looks at the picture again. I can’t tell if she believes me, but it is the truth.
“Say what’s on your mind.”
“The Lyran Ambassador said…”
“Ambassador Tiro,” I supply.
“Yes, that’s the one. He said, ‘It’s a shame what’s happened to Denise.’ Why would he say that if this,” she points to the image, “is true?”
“Because Lyrans don’t understand what’s so intoxicating about having a human woman as a lover.” I rise and circle her chair, laying my hand lightly on her shoulder.
“What I want from you is simple,” I say. “Loyalty, trust, and obedience. Lorian and I are trying to gradually build humanity a road to freedom.” I stop and lift her chin up to look at me. “You do believe me, don't you? We want humans to be equal, eventually.”
“I have no reason not to believe you, Sovereign.”
I smile faintly. “Good.” Then, move to the window and gesture for her to kneel at my side.
She obeys, falling to the polished floor and then looking up at me with her big brown eyes.
“You have been brave this morning,” I tell her. “Watching such truths requires courage. And courage deserves recognition, but first you need to show your devotion.” I rest my hand on the crown of her head.
“Kiss the floor.”
She blinks up at me, startled, but I wait. Seconds tick in silence.
Then she bends low, pressing her lips to the cold glassine tiles. Her warm breath fogs against them.
“Again.”
She repeats it, slower this time, her lips leaving a faint mark. And it shouldn’t be erotic watching her do this, but it is.
“Now thank me.”
“Thank you, Sovereign.”
I tighten my grip in her hair, forcing her head back until her throat arches bare to me. “Louder. Let the Spire hear you.”
“Thank you, Sovereign!” The sound rings through the office, raw and desperate.
Perfect.
I lean down, my lips close enough that she feels my breath against her lips. “This is devotion. When you obey me, you are safe. When you stray, you open yourself up to danger, to Terra Ka. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sovereign.”
“Good.” I release her hair. “Rise.”
She obeys, but slowly and uncertainly.
I walk over to my desk and take the pin from the drawer. Heavy silver twin moons cut deep and decorated with jewels from Reima Two.
“I had this made especially for you, Eve. I want you to wear it at all times when outside of your suite.”
Her eyes widen as I hold it before her and then move it down just an inch from her lips.
I grip her hair and tilt her face higher, pressing the cool metal against her lips. “Kiss it.”
She obeys, and her lips briefly brush the silver.
“Again. Like you mean it.”
She kisses it more reverently.
“Good. Now look up at me and thank me.”
She looks up at me with her gorgeous brown eyes, and I expect to see fear there, but instead, I see arousal.
“Thank you, Sovereign.”
“Louder.” I yank her hair again, tighter, wishing I was pulling her hair in a different scenario. “Say it as though you understand what you’ve been given.”
“Thank you, Sovereign.”
“Repeat after me,” I command, lowering my voice to a steady cadence, each phrase an order. “I am fortunate to serve at the Celestial Spire.”
“I am fortunate to serve at the Celestial Spire.”
“I was taken from Earth and elevated to human liaison, making me the highest-ranking human in the galaxy.”
“I was taken from Earth and elevated to human liaison, making me the highest-ranking human in the galaxy.”
“I am marked by the Sovereigns who protect me.”
“I am marked by the Sovereigns who protect me.”
“Good.”
Only then do I fasten the ornate pin at her collar. The weight is far too extravagant for her rank. Everyone will see it and then everyone will know—she is ours. Not as an owned human, or just an employee, but a role that is completely new in the galaxy. A human woman of worth. My woman.
I smooth the pin against her uniform with my fingers, deliberately grazing her throat.
“When Terra Ka approaches you, and they will approach you, remember what you saw here today. Lara, oiled and sold at a slave market, and rescued humans turned to grotesques. That is Terra Ka’s truth.
And remember that we, your Sovereigns, are your truth and this emblem is a reminder of that. ”
Her eyes glisten as she touches the pin with shaky fingers.
“Say it once more.”
“I am marked by the Sovereigns who protect me.”
“Our paths are intertwined now.” I dismiss her with a flick of my hand before I say more than I should, and she leaves with a quick bow as if this was all too much. And maybe it was, for both of us.