CHANDRA

“Hello, Donut,” Princess Chandra, Esquire, said.

Across from her, the blood-soaked, wild-eyed creature thing looked madly about the blank room. Chandra could smell the gore, and she immediately flicked off the receptors in the control panel.

Chandra was coiled aboard the communications room in the Ventilator, a class-C rapid-attack battle cruiser fresh off the shipyards. The Naga warship had sustained a large amount of damage during the short but violent and tumultuous coup that had removed the king and ultimately placed her uncle on the Naga throne. Her uncle, the former opposition leader of the Gilt Party, was calling himself “Sultan Protectorate of the New Reformer” or something equally inane.

It would be cycles before this all sorted itself out, for which Chandra was glad. She’d waited her entire life to find an opportunity like this, and she’d jumped at the chance when it presented itself. It was risky, yes. But if the next few weeks went as she hoped, it would all be worth it. And as long as the political upheaval stabilized long enough for her to collect her money and leave her home system, it didn’t really matter what happened next.

She didn’t care about power, or titles. She didn’t care who was in charge of what. She just wanted out of her home system. That was why she’d become a lawyer in the first place. It’d been a way out.

She suppressed a bitter laugh. At least she now had a plan. A good plan.

And it all hinged on this disgusting, warm-blooded, fur-covered rodent before her now. Donut. “Princess” Donut. What a joke.

This creature wasn’t even a true life-form, but a barely sapient, invasive cyst that had artificially formed itself on a seeded planet.

No different than mold, really. And more dangerous. If they didn’t need these things to die to help fuel the center system, Chandra would be all for the original soother proposal to eradicate all the seeded worlds.

Still, this one was valuable. She’d already signed several contracts on the creature’s behalf and was already collecting royalties. The “Donut Holes” licensing fees alone made it all worth it.

Still, there were always rumblings when any contract originated in the Naga sector. Chandra was sick of how her kind were treated. How they weren’t trusted. Or worse, looked down upon as inferior. They were sometimes even lumped in with the Nullians. Absurd.

That was why Chandra wanted out. Why she wanted to move to the center system. Once she paid the visa fees, she wouldn’t have to worry about political upheaval ever again. She wouldn’t be constantly ashamed of her own people.

At least Vinata was dead. Her plan had been to flee into the frontier. To start over. Chandra couldn’t even imagine such a thing. Why would one flee away from society? It was practically the same thing as devolving. She tried to imagine herself working the dirt of an uninhabited planet. Preposterous.

The thought of wide-open skies was suffocating to her.

Chandra couldn’t wait to get away from it all. Her idiot late husband had been constantly involved in the court’s machinations, and where had that led him? Murdered by a crawler while playing a game.

That one action had turned out to be the luckiest turn of events in Chandra’s life.

Chandra had reluctantly accepted the noble title of princess when her uncle came to power. She didn’t want attention brought to herself, but the title was necessary if she wanted to claim Widow’s Rights.

The path that had presented itself to Chandra had appeared all at once, as if by magic. As if a divine entity had seen how much she’d suffered, the humiliations she’d had to endure, and thought: Enough. Now is your time.

All it required was for Carl and Donut to survive for just a little longer.

It was so simple. It was meant to be. All her suffering. All that hard work. The humiliation of being a second wife. It would all be worth it.

Once this was all done, Chandra could possibly be one of the richest private citizens in the galaxy.

And all because of a fucking human in his underwear and his pet rodent.

The first few steps in the plan were already done. This first part had happened so fast. It had been literally just a few hours’ worth of legal work and filings to get started. She’d done it from this tiny room in the Ventilator. It was done before Faction Wars were finished. Even as the dwindling royal battleship had fired their last salvo, she’d not felt even a tingle of danger. It was amazing how much one could accomplish while sitting in a tiny room with wideband tunnel access. In hours, she’d changed the course of her own life.

She’d asserted her Widow’s Rights and claimed Carl as her husband in Naga court. She’d had a moment of terror when the judge had thought it worthwhile to put the matter to public jury. But, apparently, the idea of “punishing” Carl by forcing him to marry her was amusing to the uneducated peasants, and they’d voted overwhelmingly to allow the union. They’d even added the traditional wedding gift—the holdings of the defeated—as Carl’s “prize” in a fan box.

Either way, now that was done, Chandra, as Carl’s wife—and therefore his signatory in most legal matters—had already gotten the burners fired up on multiple contracts. Carl’s own lawyer, a Nullian named Quasar, had done a surprisingly competent job building the legal entities required for the Princess Posse fan group to collect money. Though she still had a case pending to withdraw half of their profits early.

Where this Quasar had failed was in not asserting Carl’s rights over all of Donut’s earnings. Donut’s species was not yet recognized as a legally competent racial entity by the Syndicate and therefore all of her assets should have been placed under a conservatorship. Carl was clearly the best choice as custodian. And not just a custodian, but a true beneficiary. She’d filed on her new husband’s behalf to be recognized as such, and it was granted automatically.

The will wasn’t necessary. As his wife, she would automatically get everything upon his inevitable death, minus any taxes. But she filed one anyway. Better to be safe.

And then, after a short conversation and a discreet payment to a district judge’s reelection campaign, Chandra had found herself assigned as Princess Donut’s attorney, effectively giving herself access to both Carl’s and Donut’s financial empires.

She was currently in the process of threatening the second fan group, the Donut Holes, with obliteration should they not immediately assign 38% of their profits directly to Donut’s conservatorship. Their newest product, the Princess Palette eye makeup kit, was already the highest-earning crawler merch in the history of the crawl.

The Donut Holes group had recently won the auction for Princess Donut’s open sponsorship slot. There was yet another court case pending on whether or not to allow it. Chandra’s assistant was writing a brief asserting that the claim should be allowed, but only if the Donut Holes agreed to pay the licensing fee to the conservatorship. With 60% already going to the Syndicate, the 2% left over should have been more than enough for them to keep operating. And either way, she really wanted to take a look at their books. That group had much more money than they should have. There was something going on there, and she needed to get to the bottom of it.

If the Donut Holes didn’t agree to the 38%, Chandra would have her two Taurin associates call on the families of the founders of the unauthorized fan group. It was always easy to get people to agree to things when one exerted pressure in the proper place. Especially when they had small children.

She’d have them do that as soon as they were done with their first assignment: eliminating her biggest threat. Quasar. She’d paid the fee, and they were already on their way to pay him a visit.

But all of the legal issues with the Donut Holes could wait until tomorrow. For right now, Chandra needed to make certain the rodent didn’t take a deal. She didn’t think this would be difficult.

“Who are you? And why do I feel funny?” the creature asked. She shook her head, splattering red ash over everything. Chandra had missed what’d happened at the end of the previous floor, though she was glad to hear Donut had survived. The odds makers had had her survival rate at 40% the last she’d checked, but Chandra had known the creature would pull through. Rodents had an uncanny ability to come out on top.

Chandra spent a moment examining the ugly thing. She didn’t understand how this creature had captivated so many people. It resembled and had the same coloring as the long-haired pack voles from her world, but with an annoying flat face.

That thought made her stomach rumble.

“My name is Princess Chandra, Esquire, and I have been assigned as your attorney,” Chandra said. “You feel funny because you’re in a type-A containment zone. Most of your enhancements are turned off. It’s like a zero zone, but designed to accommodate certain types of crawlers who might have issues in regular zero zones.”

“Princess?” The creature straightened on her chair. “And my attorney? I thought it would be Quasar.”

“Then you thought incorrectly.”

Donut spent a long moment examining her. “Very well,” she finally said, sounding hesitant. “So, you’re a princess, then? I certainly hope you don’t hold what happened against me and Carl. I do hope the dead snake lady wasn’t your sister or something.”

Chandra chuckled. “I wasn’t considered a princess until most recently. There’s been a recent change of government, and my uncle is now the Sultan. I was of no relation to the late Vinata.”

Donut brightened. “Well, then congratulations are in order! I suppose that means Carl and I are partially responsible for your ascension. If you need any advice on being a princess, I will, of course, be happy to give you tips. I must say, Princess, your golden brown pattern really is a nice shade. Vinata was quite stunning with her cobra hood and white and gold scales, but Carl says she really wasn’t really white and gold, but gray, and she’d been hiding it. Was that a scandal when people saw it? I bet it was a scandal.”

It actually was quite the subject of conversation, much to Chandra’s irritation. The literal king had been deposed and a new government put in place via a bloody coup, yet that particular scene had dominated the news cycle. The vid of Vinata, insane, ashen scales on full display, beating on Carl as she bled out, only to be finished off by a slug, had been shown over and over.

Chandra had taken no small amount of pleasure at the sight of Vinata’s death. Chandra had worked hard for everything she’d ever had, and Vinata had been born into it. The late crown princess had basically won the genetic lottery by getting born into that family, and she still couldn’t hold on to what she had. She hadn’t even been killed by a fellow Naga, but by a crawler. And not just a crawler, but a crawler’s pet slug. What a disgrace.

The sight of Vinata losing it all had been so . . . satisfying.

The rodent continued to ramble. She was not making any sort of point. She sat there, talking and talking, absently wiping her paw on the side of the table.

“. . . One should be proud of who they are, I say. I would be lying if I said people don’t judge based on coloring, but one should never pretend to be something they’re not. It’s true, yes, that tortoiseshell coloring is not as ‘desirable’ as an all-white Persian in some circles. And, yes, people say ‘tortitude’ makes some cats difficult to work with, but you know what I say to those snobs? Look at my pedigree and my points and tell me I’m not as desirable. Tell me I’m not a champion. As bad as Miss Beatrice was, she did have an eye for exceptionality, and nobody can accuse her of not shooting for the stars, at least on the cat show circuit. Do you really only have two arms? Vinata had six. And you’re much smaller. At least you probably save a lot at the nail salon.” She examined Chandra’s hands, and Chandra instinctively hid her dirty nails under the table, strangely ashamed.

Chandra bristled at her own reaction to this thing.

“Stop,” she finally said, making a point to hold up her hand. “For the sake of the gods, stop talking. We have a lot to go over.”

Donut nodded. “I know you have a job to do, but I’m telling you right now, I have no intentions upon taking a deal at this point.”

Chandra nodded. “Very well. You have several offers, but I agree that none of them are even worth looking at.” That actually wasn’t true. While most of the crawlers, even Carl, were getting worse-than-usual offers, likely due to the large number of survivors, she’d taken a glance at all the offers they had for Donut. There was one where she could have cohosted the prize carousel with Carl if he also picked the deal. There was a game guide, with a fifteen-season commitment. That was unheard of for someone on the tenth floor. Most of Donut’s deals were quick, safe assignments but with nasty royalty-snatching clauses buried deep inside. They were basically offering her an easy out in exchange for all the money she’d already earned. These were likely a direct result of Chandra’s recent movements. Most crawlers died intestate, and their earnings went straight to the Syndicate anyway, but now Donut had competent representation, they’d lose out on a significant amount of money once the rodent finally died. These offers were trying to claw some of that back.

It was interesting, considering that the entire show seemed to be self-destructing all around them. Honestly, Chandra hadn’t been paying attention this season. She’d only taken notice a few weeks back when someone had suggested that her husband, Rishi, and his first wife both were in mortal danger. And they were in danger because of that same crawler who’d stabbed her husband’s cousin in the neck with a pen.

But if Chandra was being honest with herself, and if she didn’t have a literal interest in Donut lasting at least a little longer, she would have recommended that her client take the deals.

Donut whisked her tail. “Carl says he’s not going to take a deal, so I’m not going to take one.”

“Done,” Chandra said, closing the folder, relieved she wasn’t going to have to waste time explaining everything. On her interface, she selected Crawler Refusing a Deal. There was a chime.

“So, are we done here?” Donut asked.

“Not quite,” Chandra said, pulling out a second folder and opening it. She’d had her assistant print off and label all the new filings and rulings. There were dozens of pages. She took a breath, feeling oddly nervous all of a sudden. Why did she feel like this? She’d just survived a missile barrage against the warship she was sitting in, yet this nonentity was causing . . . what? Apprehension? Ludicrous. It was something else. Maybe she was anxious that this idiot was going to screw it all up for her.

Chandra sat straighter. “We need to have a conversation about something else. Several somethings, actually. You’re not going to like what I’m about to say, but you need to know there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner we’ll be able to move on. Do you understand?”

The creature seemed to narrow her eyes. In an instant, her posture changed. “What’re you trying to say, Princess?”

Chandra produced the court order laying out that Princess Donut had been put under a conservatorship and that Carl was named her guardian. She slid it over.

Donut stared at it for several moments. The rodent sighed. “Question. Is this meeting being broadcast to the universe?”

“It is not,” Chandra said, “but the negotiations of all the top-ten crawlers are available live to media accounts, so we are likely being watched by many right now.”

The rodent nodded. “Well, let’s see the rest of them, then.”

Chandra was mildly surprised. She was expecting the rodent to immediately lash out. Instead, she just quietly went over each page. She’s beaten and she knows it. That was a relief. This was going to be easier than she had thought.

Donut continued to examine the papers without additional questions. The lawsuit that rerouted all future funding and royalties into Chandra’s trust account. The seizure of the Princess Posse’s accounts, including the Faction Wars prize money. The first draft of the brief regarding the challenge to the Donut Holes being a sponsor. The formation of a corporation to seek out and attach damages to all those who were using Donut’s likeness for profit. The subpoena for the Donut Holes demanding to see their books.

The only time when Donut paused was when she’d read the marriage ruling and certificate that announced Carl was now Chandra’s husband. She had evoked Widow’s Rights. This was the old Naga law that stated a Naga royal widow could claim her husband’s assassin as her new husband. This right usually only extended to the “primary” wife, but because that bitch of an obsidian had died alongside Vinata, Chandra had moved to the primary slot, even if it had been only for a few hours.

Rishi had had five more wives after Chandra. She knew some of them were now dead, but she didn’t know who. She didn’t care. She’d hated them all. She’d hated Rishi, too.

The final sheet, which basically laid out how all the money both Carl and Donut were earning was now being stored in multiple interest-bearing accounts at Kindred Bank, remained on the table. Donut took a few moments looking at the bottom line.

“I suppose that goddess was correct when she said Carl was married,” Donut finally said after several minutes of reading. “Is this bottom line correct? This is how much money Carl and I have earned?”

Chandra was surprised at the question. “Yes. And this is before we go after the crawl itself. They haven’t been following some of their own rules, and there are some penalties buried in there that should see us getting a few percentage points from their 60%.”

The creature nodded again. She kept rubbing her paw on the table.

“You know,” Donut said after a moment, “Carl has some legal papers just like this. He got them on the eighth floor from his father’s trailer. He pulled them out and left them on the table in my room where we sleep, but I don’t think he has even read them. I believe he’s too scared to look. But I read them. Do you know what they say?”

“I don’t care,” Chandra said. “All pre-collapse Earth rulings have been rendered invalid.”

“Exactly,” Donut said. “Invalid.”

Chandra felt herself blink. “What? What does that mean? These are valid, enforceable legal documents.”

“Did you know,” Donut said, “that every Naga we have met so far has been a raging psycho? For about five seconds I thought maybe you’d be a nice one, but it appears I was incorrect. And that’s really sad. The only nice one was Manasa, and she was a worm head. I must say, you guys really are doing a terrible job of being ambassadors for your species. It’s no wonder they say all those nasty things about your kind on the internet.”

“What does that have to do with anything? What does that have to do with the Earth legal papers?”

“I thought you didn’t care what the Earth legal papers said?” Donut tsked. “If you must know, it was a remarkably similar set of documents. Earth jargon is just as stupid and boring as your stuff. Carl’s grandparents had set money aside for Carl, and the father was attempting to get access to it without Carl knowing. And there was a marriage certificate in there as well, though that one was for Carl’s father and his new wife. There were also a few court documents for Carl’s dad regarding several arrests. Nothing too important, especially now. But, in the end, when you put them all together, they do something interesting. They paint a very distinct picture of who Carl’s father was as a person. Much the same way these papers paint a picture of who you are, Princess Chandra.” Donut let out another sigh. “What a sad little snake you are. I pity you.”

The words hit Chandra so hard, she felt as if she’d been slapped. It took her a moment to recover.

I am not little. I am not sad. I deserve this.

She knew this creature had an acid tongue. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t react. She needed to keep up her emotionless, matter-of-fact delivery. She had a plan.

Chandra forgot all of that as the red-hot anger overwhelmed her. She had lived her entire life in the shadow of the undeserving. She had worked for everything she ever had. And for this . . . thing to call her “sad”? To call her “small”?

How fucking dare she?

“Listen to me, you vile rodent. I don’t care what you think. This is all going to happen no matter what you do or say. I am showing you these papers because as your attorney, I am required to show them to you. I only want you to live through this next floor because if you survive, it makes me money. After, I don’t care. Either way, your financial legacy is now in safe hands.”

Donut scoffed. “Let me ask you a question. Why do you think they rendered all the Earth stuff invalid?”

“What sort of question is that? Earth no longer exists.”

Donut, who’d been sitting on the chair, suddenly jumped to the table. She stood on all fours right in the middle of the table atop the pile of papers, her body overlapping and combining with her folder. Chandra had to force herself not to shrink away.

“Oh, honey, let me explain something to you. Whatever happens to me next, it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re not trying to just rob me and your husband, who, by the way, snores like a chainsaw. I hope that weird snake head of yours can wear earplugs. I also hope you like biscuit sandwiches. No, sweetie. You’re attempting to steal from the Princess Posse. And the Princess Posse is more than just myself and Carl. Didn’t you see what just happened? You think you being out there outside the dungeon is protecting you?”

The creature let out a little laugh.

“We are everywhere. Yes, Earth is destroyed. Yes, Carl’s dad’s legal documents mean nothing. What do you think is going to happen to your little marriage certificate and your money transfers when you are destroyed?”

Chandra laughed bitterly, trying to sound more confident than she suddenly felt. “There is nothing you can do. And it’s not stealing if it’s done legally.”

“Hmm,” Donut said. “So, as my lawyer, if I offered someone fifty million credits to stop you from doing this, by any means necessary, would that be legal?”

“Of course not,” Chandra snapped.

Donut looked up into the air. “Then to any reporters watching this, I want it known that I am not offering fifty million credits to anyone who finds this snake and turns her inside out on my behalf. And I am most definitely not offering an additional five million to someone who takes that head of hers and turns it into a hat for me. Though if I was, I would be willing to cancel the order should she change her mind about attempting to steal from the Princess Posse.”

A strange, unexpected terror washed over her.

Chandra suddenly had a blinking message from her Taurin associates on her own interface. Their fee was only sixty thousand credits, plus expenses, for the job to find and eliminate Quasar. The message coming in at this very moment was a coincidence. It had to be. How could they possibly be watching this? Why would they have a media pass?

But the new message rattled her.

By the gods, what’s come over me?

She clicked the message.

Chandra. We have questions about the job. What are your coordinates?

Terror came over her.

I have to get out of here. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. How could everything change so fast? Chandra gathered up the folders. Of course, they wanted to ask in person. All their meetings were in person.

To gather the final folder, she’d have to reach through the creature standing on the table. She’d never seen eyes like this. She’d never seen such intensity, not even in her uncle when he’d told her that he planned on taking the sultanate for himself.

She couldn’t bring herself to reach through the illusion of the creature to grab the last folder. Princess Donut took yet another step toward her, and it was everything she could do not to let out a yelp. Shame and fear overwhelmed her at the same time.

Donut leaned in toward Chandra and let out a low growl, like she was going to pounce. The crawler whispered, “Since you’re new to this, let me give you your first lesson on being a princess. Lesson one, don’t put yourself in situations where you’re so afraid that you piss yourself. It shows a lack of decorum.”

Chandra, shaking, looked down. She hadn’t soiled herself, yet she’d still looked, and for that, she was humiliated.

“I . . . I didn’t.”

“Not yet,” Donut said.