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System Supervillain, Chapter 150
🕑 Added 2025-09-18 20:59:44 +0000 UTCChapter 150 – Control
(Security Control Nest, Chishk Prison, Temporary Slave Pens, Srusk 4)
Ahozk was bored. Bored and uncomfortable. Bored, uncomfortable, and slightly terrified. That shouldn’t have been possible, but it was the truth.
The uncomfortable part was easiest to explain. Only the 173rd Planetary Assault Legion enjoyed their time on Srusk 4, which everyone just called Rhuk, after the mythical ice predator from the early days of the Gel-nak, before they were Gel-nak. It was too cold for a cold-blooded creature to live comfortably, but everyone always said that the 173rd was crazy. If you didn’t start out crazy, they made sure you were before you finished your first training cycle.
Boredom was also easy to explain. Ahozk was in a security room in the middle of Chishk Prison, which had, at one time, been the most feared prison in the Empire, watching a bunch of unruly slaves through the monitors. Converting the prison to slave pens hadn’t been all that difficult. They were basically the same thing, after all.
The problem was the slaves themselves. These humans were not ordered, like the Gel-nak. They had no genecastes, no conditioning. They believed that, even though they had been captured as slaves, that they should resist their masters, despite the obvious futility of going against those more powerful than you were.
Ahozk wasn’t supposed to be on Srusk 4. He wasn’t supposed to be doing the job of a Slavetender or Slavewatcher. He was a farm worker from one of the farms on Srusk 3, where he had the low, but important, job of growing food for the Empire. He had never wanted to be anything but a farmer, but with the disruptions in trade caused by the Emperor’s death there weren’t ships to put the food on, so there was less need for farm workers.
The Leader Caste who had owned the plantation he worked on noted that Ahozk was smart, for a Worker Caste, and said that, if he proved himself with this job guarding the slaves, then he might be eligible for genetic advancement, either into a higher tier of Worker, or maybe even into a Warrior or Leader Caste, depending on his aptitude. Ahozk didn’t care about such things. He knew that going up in castes meant more problems. Yes, a Worker did not have the same kinds of rights and privileges as a Leader, but you were less likely to have Workers stabbing other Workers in the back to advance. And Ahozk did not feel the lack of rights as much as other Workers might, since the Leaders on Srusk 3 knew better than to brutalize their workers too much. After all, the Workers were the ones who did all the work, and the last time one of the Leaders got too violent, they found out that the poisons used to keep pests off the crops worked on Gel-nak, as well.
But too many of the Slavetenders and Slavewatchers had been killed when they attempted to reduce the herd to more manageable numbers. From what Ahozk had heard, they were planning on just a ten percent reduction in the herd size, but the slaves resisted, and fought back. By the end of it, half the herd was gone, and the remaining Slavewatchers had been recruited by the few Slavetenders to survive. Farmers like Ahozk had been called in as temporary Slavewatchers, once the herd was settled in their new Slave Pens.
Not that they really needed Slavewatchers. The job of the Slavewatchers was to make sure the slaves didn’t run off. But there wasn’t anywhere to run on Srusk 4. They were in the middle of a frozen wasteland, after all. The nearest settlement was over one hundred kilometers away, and the slaves had been stripped of all garments and items during processing. Even if the soft-skinned mammals were better at dealing with the cold than Gel-nak, they would die if they tried to run. But the breeding stock was already depleted, so they could not risk any of the slaves running off, especially the young males. Which meant that Ahozk was watching them, bored.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with the ‘slightly terrified’ thing. Ahozk had seen the images that had been broadcast across the Empire, using Imperial Override codes. The Emperor had been killed by one of these soft-skins calling himself the Rhuk of Earth, and this Rhuk had warned them that he would be coming, and would kill the Gel-nak for attacking his world. As if it was the Empire’s fault that the humans had not accepted their place in the natural order of things.
Still, it had been months since that broadcast, and there had been no sign of this Rhuk of Earth. The Empire had its own troubles, of course, thanks to the traitors in the Kez Sisterhood who murdered the Royal Line. Ahozk had forgotten all about the message, until that new message played for the system. The Rhuk of Earth was here, in the Srusk system! Sure, Ahozk believed that the Navy would protect them. Now that they knew the Rhuk’s tricks, they would defeat him. But still, the thought lingered, what if they didn’t?
Phase 1:
Web Mistress’s attack roll (Ahozk), ECV 10: 3d6 = 6 (Hits ECV 15) (Hit)
Hypnotic Screen: 7 1/2 d6 = 33 Mind Control (x2 Vulnerability)
Ahozk: 66/20 Mind Control
Ahozk froze. He didn’t know why he was frozen. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was the pattern on the screen he was watching. He would just sit here and do nothing but look at the screen. No matter what happened around him.
Phase 3:
Web Mistress uses Data Transmission.
Web Mistress: 29/34 END
Ahozk is surprised, -half DCV, Hit Location modifier -half
Web Mistress uses Called Shot (Head), -4 OCV
Web Mistress’s attack roll (Ahozk), OCV 6: 3d6 = 11 (Hits DCV 6) (Hits)
Killing Beam: 4d6-1 = 15 BODY (0 rED) (x2 Hit location)
Stun Multiplier: x5 (Hit Location) = 75 STUN
Ahozk: -10/20 BODY (Dying)
Ahozk: -45/30 STUN (Unconscious)
Web Mistress: 24/34 END
Ahozk heard the strange screaming sound coming from the computers, but he did not blink, or look to see what was causing it. His entire focus was on the screen in front of him. Even when something was pressed against his head, he did not look away from the screen. The screen was all that—
(Web Mistress POV)
The lizard in charge of main security was down. Dying, but not quite dead yet, according to the System. Of course, the lizards had some low-level regeneration. That meant she needed to finish things properly, or the lizard would eventually get back up. Another blast from her blaster did the job.
Quickly, she set about putting the facility in a full lockdown. Thankfully, this place used to be a prison, so the architecture was already there to cause all doors to close and lock, with all control routed to the security office. It was possible to burn through the doors, of course, but she’d never let herself get cornered by something like that. Not when the entire facility was full of electronic components for her to move about in.
She opened a line of communication to the Rhuk in orbit above the facility. “Web Mistress here. Control room is secure. Facility is in lockdown, but I can control the doors remotely. Ready to begin Phase 2.”
“Good work, Web Mistress,” Stolen Victory’s voice came back through the link. “What about the prisoners? Are they in danger?”
She scanned through the security feeds. She didn’t bother with the monitors, but accessed the feeds directly. As she did so, she conveyed what she saw to the Rhuk. “Prisoners look to be in communal cells. Mixed-occupancy. No immediate danger, though we’re probably going to want to find clothes for all these people. They have all the prisoners completely naked, and looks like they’ve gotten rid of all hair below the neck for both males and females. Cells are roughly the size of a classroom, sleeping forty in bunk beds.”
She paused, to let the meat-speed thinkers catch up to what she said. “Children of both sexes are being kept separate, infants are being kept with the older women. Any women of childbearing age are being kept in the communal cells. Looks like a ratio of roughly forty-to-one on women to men. They’re rooming forty-one in the main cells, one man to forty women. Age range on the mixed cells looks to be early teens to late forties, early fifties.”
Her brother-master’s voice came on the line. “Well, the information you recovered from the station’s network did say that they were going to try breeding programs. However, they lacked the specialists and equipment for the normal methods. I guess they’re trying to push things along the ‘old-fashioned’ way.”
“As you say, Master. I’m sure the suspension bridge effect will have some people seeking comfort however they can get it. As for the guards? I’m looking at a ratio of roughly one guard per hundred prisoners. Total, across all shifts. They are absurdly understaffed, and probably only keeping things in line because they have armor and guns while the prisoners are all naked, and it is frozen tundra outside, which makes escapes more difficult.”
“Status of the guards?” Stolen Victory asked, clearly eager to get into the fray.
“All Gel-nak on site are Worker Caste. Only a third are on shift. Those who were sleeping or otherwise are locked in their barracks and common rooms. No weapons on them, so they should be fine, for now. However, that’s still sixteen thousand Gel-nak to worry about. So far, I’ve sent out alerts to those on shift that another slave revolt is in progress, giving a different sector to each group, and for them to defend their position, to prevent the revolt from spreading. All communications have been routed through this room.”
She looked through the feeds again, and sighed. “Scratch that. Guards in Block 4, Sublevel 20 are trying to bypass the lockdown. Apparently, their cousin is the one I killed, or something like that. Sending coordinates for the teleporter. Fifty Gel-nak Workers in basic armor, with pistols.”
“I will deploy there, myself. What about medical facilities?”
“There are medical facilities, but they seem to be less about recovery, and more about ensuring that the cattle don’t die until the experiments are done. We do have a few dozen humans in the labs, mostly alive.”
“Serafina and Titania will deploy there, as soon as you give us coordinates. And send the coordinates for the person in charge of this war crime. Foxtrot and Pyra will convey the team’s displeasure.”
“Coordinates sent. I’ll remain in main security acting as overwatch for as long as possible.”
“Good work, Web Mistress,” her Master said, cutting into the call once again. “Victory, we cannot spare enough guards to have many Gel-nak prisoners, and I don’t trust any of the captured humans with weapons until we have time to get them checked out for hidden controls. Only take prisoners if they can offer actionable intelligence, or they are important enough that handing them over to the Russians will earn us some brownie points. Show these lizards the same ‘mercy’ they showed Moscow.”
“Understood, Master,” Victory said, but it was clear from her voice that she was somewhat conflicted about those orders. On the one hand, slaughtering slavers who had clearly done horrible things to their prisoners was something that any of the members of Devastation would sleep soundly with. On the other, well, blatantly ignoring requests to surrender, if offered, wasn’t exactly a ‘hero’ thing to do, and the former Squadron Supreme members still thought of themselves as heroines, even if they’d been villains for years, now.
Web Mistress chuckled. She knew her Master was tempted to crush that heroic spirit and fully turn his pets, especially when it threatened to cause problems to some of his wider schemes, but she also knew why he wouldn’t do it unless something forced him. Simply put, if he changed them through some form of Transform power, those changes could be undone. If he made it so they changed themselves over time, coming to accept who and what they were? That was far harder to undo, and any forceful changes could be changed back more easily.
“And what will you be doing, Master?”
“Once the teams are off the ship, I plan to go to the spaceport Nemesis located, and let the Russians come out and play. I’m sure the Gel-nak will find it an experience to die for. Or from.”
Comments
Chris M.
💗 very nice chapter, thank you. 😍
Colin Dearing
They think they are the "master race" after all, and all fear them, and would never attack them... fools.
Robert Gardner
TFTC. Not enough security, cyber or mental
