The crystal skull wine glass exploded in Galateya's grip, amber Ambrosia mixing with her violet blood as shards embedded themselves in her scaled palm. She opened her mouth to scream at Admiral Evelithria, then snapped it shut. Yelling at the fleet Admiral wouldn't accomplish anything except earn her another demotion.

  A demotion to what? She had no idea.

  Probably a Colonial Governor undersecretary. Yes, that was inevitably her fate, to manage the minor affairs of some dying fortress-nation on some unimportant, obscure colonial world.

  She stalked from the pool toward the nearest bathroom, ruby hair gemstones glittering. The bathroom door closed behind her with a click, the doorman prad cheetah offering a deep bow.

  Cold water from the black basin splashed across her hand and face. The basin itself was carved from a single piece of celesteel. The black, gold-star spotted metal was woven from the dissected innards of a one hundred kilometer god-gate-crab by subjugated Silicanoids over millennia. She could feel the misery radiating from it, a thousand generations of suffering embedded in every little crystalline gold star.

  Due to her Taniwha father, whom she never met, Galateya didn’t manage to end up with a Wendigo Omnitype like her sisters. Unlike the Wendigos who seemed to find the fear and pain emanations appetizing, Galateya found them nauseating and unnerving, constantly keeping her irritated, on edge of snapping into violent outbursts.

  The displayed fear and pain everywhere felt like pure... waste. Inefficiency. Suffering without purpose beyond the Wendigo need to gorge themselves on such.

  A disassembled human hung on the nearest wall in a gold frame, layers of hexaglass revealing spliced and pulsing organs, infused with crystalloid dust harvested from thrall remnants to keep the specimen alive and suffering forever. The man’s single lidless eye stared at her. Galateya blanched, wanting badly to tear the poor bastard from the frame to end his suffering.

  "I swear, Keiy," she snarled at the blade-gun holstered at her hip. "It’s like everyone around me is a fucking imbecile."

  "Noted," her weapon replied in its perpetually dry tone. "Though to be fair, most of fleet commanders are newly spawned from time-dilation bubbles like yourself."

  "That's not an excuse!" Galateya's fist slammed into the celesteel wall. "A minimum of rational thought and some observation should allow them to understand how this human-run world actually functions!”

  “Uh-huh.

  “And the so-called ‘Emperor of Earth’ is obviously a scammer! He doesn't even know where penguins live! He claimed they lived in the Arctic! PENGUINS! They're Antarctic birds! Antarctic!!!”

  Galateya splashed her face from the sink again. “Armies with vast resources losing because of incompetent command is nothing new, but leadership with their heads so far up their ass, they're being duped by locals pretending to be fictional characters? This is unprecedented, mad, absurd!”

  “You heard the Admiral,” Keiy pointed out. “This planet is ridiculously safe. Loss of personnel is incredibly unlikely. The locals simply lack the weapons that can penetrate hexasuit shields worn by pradavarian legionnaires. The Princess will come to her senses in a few days time and take her place on her assigned warship. It's just a minor family quarrel."

  Galateya’s fists opened and closed.

  "Not everyone was fortunate enough to be raised the same way you were," Keiy pointed out. "Need I remind you that your time dilation educational bubble was… unique. It blessed you with a greater understanding of human culture and tech than the other commanders. If you wish to interact with the Admiral again, I suggest you calm yourself before returning to the Pleasure Deck.”

  Galateya growled.

  “None of that,” Keiy said. “Focus! Be a tree.”

  Galateya forced herself to phase-shift into a log, skin becoming bark, ruby hair dulling to moss. The transformation was sluggish as the Aetheric density of this dimension was terribly wrong in some unexpected way. “Too much linearity”, the egghead Datamancer Arch-coven concluded in their latest report.

  The Taniwha held the tree log form for several minutes, pretend-photosynthesising and thinking slowly, until her rage cooled to mere simmering irritation. Slowly, bark became scales again, moss shifting to crystalline, icy silver strands.

  She emerged from the bathroom, striding through the command deck's opulent corridors. A gargantuan circular pool dominated the Pleasure Floor, its black waters rippling with movements of hundreds of naked, decorated male Pradavarians: wolves painted with elaborate spirals, hawks with golden feathers woven through their wings, felines with diamonds entwined into their fur braids, serpentine lizards with scales polished to mirror brightness, foxes with tails permanently fused with magic gold. They lounged at the edges and within alcove corners, living art pieces for the Omnid officers' amusement, ready to serve their masters in any capacity at any moment’s notice.

  Admiral Evelithria reclined halfway submerged in voidwhale blood, watching holographic displays of human males while sipping Ambrosia from a crystalline skull goblet.

  "Perhaps we can designate this world as a pleasure colony for lower tier races," Legate Ixthia suggested, "The one male to one female ratio is a convenient start. Look at the variety! So many different phenotypes to breed from."

  "The Asian stock seems to display greater devotion to institutional obedience according to my Datamancer reports," Legate Vethisa commented, yawning as her attendant, a tiger Pradavarian with platinum stripes, massaged her clawed feet. "Though the Africans have superior musculature."

  "We'll take samples from all populations," Evelithria decided, gesturing at a particularly lewd video playing on the gargantuan projection. "Selective breeding programs can be set up to enhance the traits we find most... entertaining and unique. In a few generations, we'll have custom-designed pleasure slaves to reward the elder prad Alphas with."

  “Why would our pets need to be rewarded with such?” Legate Obliss asked. “The blood contract makes them perfectly obedient and we've already concluded that keeping prad males and females together reduces female task performance.”

  “A pet is best managed with a snack and whip. The humans are a perfect snack reward for prads. There’s a deficiency of prad males due to their gender disparity ratio,” Evelithria pointed out. “This world is full of males. Four billion males. More than enough to be treats for our ever-expanding prad Divisions. The blood contract isn't enough. It decays, weakens with each Pradavarian death. The Incarnator doesn't work that well on lower races. Entropy seeps into the equation. We established a death number limit. When it is reached, a Pradavarian female should retire on a pleasure world where they can continue to be useful as an Omnid servant, trainer and consultant, bound not by blood but by… these simple treats.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Obliss pursed her lips.

  “We can remake this entire planet into a Pradavarian ideal heaven,” Evelithria smiled. “Perhaps a Pleasure world for wealthy Omnids too. We can build citadels in the most scenic locations and fill them with male prads, Ambrosia bars, Entertainment floors and Voidblood pools.”

  "Step one would be to erase the current human culture," Legate Ixthia contemplated, "All this fictional nonsense they're currently attached to… has to go."

  "Naturally," the Admiral agreed. "We should replace it with proper veneration to the Frontenachii Dominion. Hrm… What was it that they see us as again?"

  “Demonic beings of the isolated northern forests,” Vethisa said. “A blend of myth, horror fiction, and pop culture. Gaunt, emaciated creatures. Animalistic spirits of greed and hunger.”

  “Why?” the Admiral wondered.

  “Unknown.” Ixthia blanched. “It is possible that one of our ancestors came hunting here and got himself trapped… or was punished for some crime and sent here via a Mothman-cast dimensional gate. If he was badly injured… without proper mana circulation, hoard and kobolds…”

  “Are you saying that an Omnid Wendigo could decay into…” the Admiral huffed.

  “We don’t know what long term exposure of local Aetheric linearity could do to a very injured Omnid,” Vethisa pointed out. “Should we devote a Scrut Division to look for a lost Wendigo in the Northern wilderness?”

  "If we find some pathetic ancestor stranded here, decayed to madness over centuries... it would be a mercy to execute them,” Evelithria huffed and snapped her fingers, summoning a kobold attendant to refill her Ambrosia. “Can you imagine the embarrassment? A Wendigo reduced to lurking in forests, feasting on these primitives like some common beast?"

  "Then we vanish them if found," Ixthia decided. "Quietly. A quick job for our lovely Marshal Commandant. No need for the fleet to know one of us could devolve into... whatever the humans imagine us to be."

  Galateya's jaw clenched. Here were her superiors, lounging in luxury built on millennia of suffering, discussing executing their own kind for the crime of being weakened by dimensional physics while simultaneously planning to breed humans like cattle. The hypocrisy made her scales itch.

  A pleasant musical note in the air announced an incoming transmission. The Admiral waved a hand, accepting the Voicecast.

  Commander Sillicia's lifesize hologram materialized at the pool's edge, fully armored and covered in soot.

  "Admiral!" Sillicia saluted. "Division 881 successfully cleared and is processing the vampire compound. We've recovered sixteen mature crystalloids and 412 thralls all in various states of liquefaction. The Corpse Seekers are already beginning conversion of harvested material into new weapon units. We just breached a vault and discovered a variety of artifacts, including what my Scruts are reporting is a lich crown that can create dimensional gates!”

  "Excellent work, Commander!" Evelithria smiled. “Congrats on your elevation in ranking. Your Division delivered excellent results ahead of everyone else!"

  "The credit goes to my Alpha and Datamancer who were aided by… a local informant," Sillicia said.

  "A human helped you?" Ixthia's antlers tilted with interest. "Willingly?"

  "He seemed quite eager to assist. My Alpha-Scrutimancer is interested in claiming him."

  The commanders exchanged amused glances.

  "How quaint," Vethisa chuckled. "Our pet Scruts are already making pets of the locals. I guess that the pleasure world plan does hold some merit.”

  “Shall we allow the claim?” Ixthia arched an eyebrow.

  “I’ll allow it, especially if it nets us more results like this,” Evelithria waved a hand. “A dimensional gate that can operate without a Mothman is of great value, especially if we can pull spatial data from the artifact. Besides, we’ve yet to establish the most effective protocols and use for the human resource of Earth 88-04-71. Monitor your Alpha’s performance and see if it goes up or down due to the human’s presence.”

  “Can do,” Sillicia nodded.

  Galateya couldn't help herself since she'd just gone over Division 881’s reports. "Perhaps we should analyze why a random human was more effective at intelligence gathering than our entire fleet."

  The pool went silent. The antlered half-gods turned.

  "What was that, Scion Galateya?" Evelithria's voice carried a dangerous edge.

  "I'm simply noticing," Galateya said, "that if a single human can provide better intelligence than thousands of Scrutimancers, perhaps we should reconsider our approach to—"

  "You presume to critique fleet strategy, spawnling? You, who constantly keeps butting heads with others for the most absurd of reasons?" The Admiral's feathers fluttered slightly and then went down as a kobold attendant began massaging her shoulders.

  "Like father, like daughter," Vethisa added with a cruel smile. "Taniwha blood always makes them difficult. Too much lateral thinking, the territorial desire for justice and harmony clouding judgement. Not enough cunning…”

  Ixthia sighed.

  Galateya's hands clenched. Keiy buzzed in warning against her hip. Vethisa descended into a general rant about blood purity and non-Wendigo Omnitypes being inferior intelligence officers due to not being cunning or daring enough to do what was necessary to preserve their civilization against encroaching cosmic horrors, Numbers, dungeons, Celestorms and entropy waves.

  "Commander Sillicia," the Admiral said, ignoring Galateya and Vethisa entirely, "continue your excellent work. Scout the surrounding area for any crystalloids or thralls that might have eluded capture."

  “Already on it, my Lady,” Sillicia said. “Several packs from Division 881’s landing party have been dispatched in smaller Corpse Seekers to search for any stragglers!”

  "Commander Sillicia, did your Division happen to track where Sherlock Holmes went after giving your human informant the map?” Galateya asked.

  “Why?” Sillicia asked. “We already know that he lives on Baker Street in London.”

  Galateya's eye twitched. “Fine. Did you happen to notice any correlation between population density and local Aetheric suppression?"

  Sillicia's hologram turned to her with a small twitch. "Scion Galateya, my Division is focused on actual results, not theoretical speculation."

  "It's hardly theoretical when—"

  "When what?" Sillicia interrupted. "When you've spent your entire deployment cycle analyzing data from the comfort of your quarters? Some of us are actually on the ground, dealing with reality rather than mentally pawing at speculatory hallucinations generated by artificial intelligence running on… what was it? Dead rocks? Sand? Even my brilliant, ordinarily reclusive Datamancer is down here, making sure that we get as much as possible out of this nest and our newest human informant.”

  Several commanders chuckled. Galateya's lack of kobolds was well-known as she'd never successfully bound a single Pradavarian to her service.

  “What exactly is your conclusion, my spawnling?” Ixthia grinned. “Let’s hear your… theorising.”

  “The local Aetheric density isn’t even,” Galateya ground out at her great-grandmother. “There are microscopic variations, such as the deviation within the valley near the town of Cascade currently being investigated by Division 881.” She paused, then pressed on despite the hostile audience. "The variations correlate with human population density. Where there are more humans who don't believe in magic, the Aetheric linearity intensifies. It's as if their collective observation creates a causality field that actively rejects magical frameworks. Eight billion conscious observers, all unconsciously agreeing that magic doesn't exist, could generate a consensus reality field that—"

  "Could generate delusions in failed commanders who spend too much time with their artificial intelligence toys that don’t even work properly in a dimension with scale of +2.78 Entropy variance," Sillicia interrupted. "Some of us have actual Datamancers to analyze real information, not theoretical gibberish spouted by human-designed… toys."

  “Thunderbird designed!” Galateya’s mane ignited with watery swirls of compressed air. The jab landed precisely where intended. Galateya's lack of a Datamancer kobold made her the latest source of mockery.

  "The local humans lack heart cores, meaning that they cannot possibly interact with Aether. They are about as useful as the vermin humanity existing at the edges of Omnithornia,” Vethisa pointed out. “Mere livestock in unusually large numbers. I suggest we empty out their prisons and begin mass experiments on a large number of subjects.”

  “Not until the Datamancer Arch-coven reaches consensus on the most effective path forward,” the Admiral said.

  "If Galateya's theory has merit," Ixthia mused, swirling her Ambrosia, "we could test it easily enough. Rapidly remove 100% percent of the human population from a particular overpopulated location. See if the Aetheric density shifts."