We Fight for Freedom (Starship Freedom Book 3) by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Moonclipse
Published: 2021-09-28T05:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

They stepped through the doorway into… not a bridge, no. Not a war room either. King could only describe it as a throne room.

The chamber was massive, as large as a starfighter hangar. It was built in a style King had heard referred to as Krem Deco, combining imperial Russian extravagance with Art Deco's futuristic boldness. A crimson rug stretched across the floor like a river of blood. Golden columns rose, shaped like slender women with blank alien faces, their long hands clutching swords to their chests. Red banners hung from the walls, sporting embroidered rocket ships. Guards stood everywhere, wearing red coats and golden masks.

"Subtle," King muttered.

At the end of the hall, a huge circular window let in the starlight. Below the oculus, stairs led up to a dais. Two golden bars rose there like twin skyscrapers, reflecting the starlight. King realized it was an equal sign flipped onto its side. Between the golden obelisks stood a throne of gold inlaid with rubies.

"Zdravstvuyte, capitalist pigs!" Katyusha waved from the throne. "How nice of you to come visit Katyusha in her humble home. Now kneel before Katyusha, imperialist dogs!"

King snarled and stepped closer, balling his fists. "We're not going to goddamn kneel."

Katyusha tossed back her head and laughed. "Katyusha is joking! Look at you, Jamechka. Getting so angry like bear! Are you sure you're not Russian?"

King marched down the hallway toward the throne. Godwin walked at his side, cane tapping. Red Dawn guards stood between the golden statues, staring from behind blank steel masks. Their gloved hands were tight around their guns.

"If you want to talk to us, Katyusha, you can climb down that goddamn throne of yours and talk to us at eye level." King stood before the throne, baring his teeth. "You get down here, stop your charades, or we turn around and leave."

Katyusha leaned back in her seat, laughing. Her legs were tossed over an armrest, and she held a goblet of wine.

"You are so angry! How you not get heart attack yet?" She heaved a sigh. "Very well. Katyusha understands that you capitalists are proud, stubborn people, and you get scared of authority. Like sheep scared of wolf. So Katyusha will get down to your level and talk to you. Like talking to babies, yes?"

I hate that woman, King thought, trying to control his rage.

Katyusha rose from her throne, as graceful as a serpent rising from a basket. She swayed down the staircase, one hand on the hilt of her saber. As always, she wore her resplendent Red Dawn uniform. Her boots rose to her knees. Golden buckles, buttons, and medals shone on her red coat. Her black hair spilled out from under her cap, cut to the length of her chin.

She reached the bottom of the dais, and a crooked smile spread across her face.

"Want to see something, capitalists?" She drew her blade with a hiss. "A new sword. Look! Look at the blade. That is not steel. That is a rah claw!"

She swung the blade.

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