Null Tower, New York City
Noriko Null has been laying on her bed for the past twelve hours, motionless. She took off her green leather jacket and boots, but didn’t even bother getting under the sheets or changing her clothes. Not that she’s had a single minute of sleep… all she’s done is staring at the ceiling.
<Hello, Nori? Are you in there?> she hears Quantum’s voice ask, immediately after he knocks.
She doesn’t answer.
<O.D.I.N. says you’re there. Can I come in?>
She doesn’t answer.
<Look I’m just gonna get inside, okay? Don’t get mad at me if you’re not decent.>
Moments later a bunch of particles reassemble themselves into a human being, and Max Black looks around. He knows how reticent Noriko is to let anyone in her room, so he’s more than a little weirded out by her complete lack of any reaction.
<Are you alright?> he asks, waving his hand in front of her face.
<Peachy.> she answers weakly.
<We need to talk. It’s getting harder and harder to have you alone for five minutes!>
<Max, I am currently projecting my mind in twenty-seven different places, having just as many simultaneous conversations. Can’t this wait?>
<It’s important.> he stresses.
<Then it’s the twenty-eight important thing I’m supposed to take of, so unless the world is literally going to end in the next ten minutes…>
<Did you order Aura’s assassination?> Quantum straight up asks her.
There’s a moment of silence. Her silver eyes light up, and she sits up straight on the bed as her consciousness returns to her body, fully giving Quantum her complete attention.
<Well? Did you?> he asks, crossing his arms impatiently.
In her head, the conversation plays out millions of times in the blink of an eye, as she carefully crafts thousands of answers weighing every potential reaction.
Eventually, after what feels like an eternity to her and a negligible amount of time for him, she looks at him straight in the eye and simply answers:
<Yes.>
You could hear a pin drop in the silence that fills the room. Specifically, Quantum taking a deep breath and then calmly sit down next to her.
<You don’t seem mad. I expected you to be mad.> she admits.
<Look… I wasn’t exactly Aura’s biggest fan, okay? We missed the civil war she caused, thanks to the Zenith’s time shenanigans… but Jane was stranded on Myridia when that happened. Things weren’t exactly pretty, and if it wasn’t for Aura that whole mess wouldn’t have been so ugly. And, well, she did start to go full fascist when you died.> he recounts.
<I’m glad you see she had to go, Max.>
<Removed from power, yes I get that, but killed? And by framing Tyche? In front of everybody? That was low, Nori.>
<You’ve never objected when I killed gods, Max. It was the same thing.>
<No, it really wasn’t. It’s one thing to kill monsters, Noriko, but Aura was a human being. We shouldn’t be the ones who decide who lives and who dies.>
<You think I took those steps lightly? I took the path that involved making the least amount of damage with the maximum positive outcome. I have all the major gods on my side and we are about to win freedom for all mortals in the Galaxy… we’re on the edge of something great, Max. If the price to pay is the death of a would-be dictator and perhaps a piece of my soul, so be it.>
<At least you should have told us, Noriko. You keep doing this over and over again, don’t you see? You say you want to share things with the Vanguard, but then you plan things on your own and keep us in the shadows. Were you afraid we’d do something stupid?>
<Yes.> she answers bluntly.
Quantum frowns, but she doesn’t back down from his disapproving stare.
<I don’t mean to be offensive. But none of you are capable of understanding all the possible ramifications of a complex web of alliances to the level that I do.>
<It is all kinds of offensive. This is not a math problem, Noriko, I’m talking about knowing what’s right and what’s wrong!>
<I know what I did was wrong, but that didn’t make it any less necessary. You’re a good person, Max, but I’ve told you before… I’m not. Now… what are you going to do about it?>
<You’ve forced me into a corner, Noriko. If I say anything about this to anyone, then the whole alliance breaks up and we’re splitting the Galaxy between warring gods again, aren’t we?>
<Without question.>
<Then I guess I can’t do much of anything. I just stood there watching you commit the perfect crime… some superhero I turned out to be.> Max sighs, wearily standing up again.
<Don’t be so hard on yourself. If you have to take this out on anyone, blame me. I fully deserve it.>
<Did you tell this to anyone? Does anyone know?>
<Hermes figured it out on his own, but he’s keeping it close to his chest. I didn’t tell anyone, and as far as I know nobody else connected the dots.> Noriko clarifies.
<I guess Torn and Kari won’t; they rarely question your decisions. And Vesta is too trusting to suspect you. God, did you also plan that!?>
<Perhaps it’s best if I don’t answer. So… now what are you going to do, Max? I would totally understand if you wanted to leave the Vanguard.>
<I probably should, but I’m not going to. Someone has to keep you honest, Noriko.>
<I’ve lost a lot of your respect. I know my word isn’t worth much in this moment, Max, but… I realize I should’ve discussed this with you. You’re the only one who keeps me grounded, and I swear I’ll do anything to win back your respect.>
<That’s a tall order, Noriko.>
<I’ve been known to do the impossible.>
<Yeah. But from now on I want to be informed on your plans before you implement them, okay?>
<It’s a deal. So let’s go over the strategy to defeat Hera…>
Megalopolis, 52,000 light-years from Earth
Hera’s throne room is typically filled by her personal attendants and flocks of her pet peacocks, but today it’s different. Only two attendants are serving her, one brushing her blue hair and the other one serving a goblet of nectar.
Her attention is not on them, but on the men in uniform standing at attention before her: the highest ranking officers of her armed forces.
Most of them have never seen her. Like most gods Hera has ordered countless military campaigns and started thousands of wars… but for the most part she’s delegated the heavy part to the armies of her children.
Lord High Commander Melanthios stands in front of the rest: a man in his late eighties, proudly wearing a plethora of metals on his uniform. Few of them are for military accomplishments: most of them are to reward him for his six marriages and forty-two legitimate children.
<What is the status of my fleet, Lord High Commander?> the goddess asks.
<It will be fully mobilized by the end of the week, Your Majesty.>
<Wonderful. I’m glad there are still SOME mortals who know how to serve. I want you to waste no time in attacking my enemies.>
<Yes, Your Majesty. Which sector shall be the target of your wrath?>
<All of them! I want you to lay waste to the blasphemous Mortal Republic, to conquer the former realm of Apollo, and to take back control of the territories rightfully owned by Ares.>
Lord High Commander Melanthios awkwardly turns to glance at the two dozen High Generals, all of which are looking at him like he was about to shoot himself.
<Yes, Your Majesty, but… we can’t do all of it at once.>
<What?>
<These territories cover thousands of star systems, many of which are well defended. We can maybe have sufficient ships to attack one, but…>
<What do you mean one!? I have tens of thousands of ships and millions of soldiers at my disposal, don’t I!?>
<We… we had that many ships, Your Majesty, yes, but… our war with the Egyptian Pantheon and your dau… their allies…> the soldier reminds her, stopping himself from mentioning that Hera’s daughter Ilithyia had joined the Egyptians. The use of Ilithyia’s name is literally a death sentence.
<So? Just make more of these things!>
<We are manufacturing more, Your Majesty, but… we no longer have access to the Hephaestus shipyards, and we have a shortage of soldiers. We lack the resources to invade more than a single well-protected sector.>
<I don’t want to hear excuses!!! I want these sectors be brought under my command!!!>
<Your Majesty… we don’t have the resources for another large scale war. Between our previous defeats and the loss of manpower caused by the rebellions of Enyo and Ilithyia…>
Hera lifts a finger, and the body of Lord High Commander Melanthios is engulfed in blue flames. The attendants shriek in terror, and the generals have no choice but just watching their leader die an agonizing death.
Within a few seconds, his body is reduced to a pile of smoking ashes and molten medals.
Hera stares at the remains, her right eye twitching as she barely contains her rage.
She hands the golden goblet in her hand to one of the attendants; the poor girl carefully pours another serving of nectar. Her body is shaking at the terrifying thought of spilling a single drop… yet another capital offense.
Hera drinks the entire goblet in a single sip. Seemingly calmed, she crossers her legs and stares at the soldiers to count their medals.
<You. What’s your name, mortal?> she asks, pointing her finger at a man in his seventies.
<High General Zotikos, Your Majesty Queen Hera.> he answers nervously.
<I see you’ve been married five times. You’re Lord High Commander now.>
<Y-yes, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty.>
<I want you to attack the capital of the Mortal Republic with the entire fleet. Unless… unless there’s some kind of problem following my orders?>
<No, Your Majesty, we’ll begin the invasion immediately, Your Majesty.>
<Splendid. Spare no resources: I want every single subject under my rule to participate in the invasion. And I want it right away!>
<You… you mean a draft, Your Majesty? We are voluntary force.> Lord High Commander Zotikos replies, wondering how he worked up the courage to make even the slightest objection.
<Fine. Then under divine rule, it is now a capital offense NOT to volunteer. We shall spare no effort from restoring order to the Galaxy! ALL mortals must participate!!!>
<All mortals, Your Majesty? Including the women?>
<Don’t be silly, of course not. A good wife can’t be a soldier. But every male above the age of twelve must be drafted into the war! It’s the age when marriage is compulsory, isn’t it?> Hera asks one of the attendants; keeping track of the pitifully short mortal lifespan is a chore.
<It’s legal at twelve but compulsory at sixteen, My Queen.> the attendant reminds her.
<What!? That is outrageous! Marriage should be as important as war! As of this moment all females must marry at twelve. And all soldiers MUST be married before they go to war!!!>
<Your Majesty, with all due respect, you are drafting billions of soldiers when we don’t even have ten thousand ships ready for a war. And marrying so many people will delay the attack by…>
Lord High Commander Zotikos catches fire, his newfound courage causing him to be incinerated by blue flames just like his immediate predecessor.
If there was anyone left in a position to advise Hera without fear of death, she would certainly be told to stop murdering, threatening and alienating her own forces. But whatever influence her family had to ground Hera to reality has long vanished.
<Now. Has anyone else here been married at least four times, or should I just abolish the position of Lord High Commander and go to war myself!?>
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