In Service of the Queen Ch. 01

In Service of the Queen

by Davina Lee

An alternative future of women and their adventures

*

Author's Note

Retro-futurism - A vision of the future imagined from the perspective of an earlier age. Steampunk, Dieselpunk, Cyberpunk, Raygun Gothic... these are all examples of retro-futurism.

And then there's this. A story that fits into the Dieselpunk genre, but without the constant war and pollution-belching internal combustion engines. This story is much more Utopian in its outlook. If you're a connoisseur of Dieselpunk, I suppose it could be called Ottensian dieselpunk.

I am not a connoisseur, not even close. I simply like the idea of a fictional "utopia" built on technologies and design aesthetics you might see in a 1930's World's Fair exhibition. And utopia is in quotes here, because of course, nothing Utopian ever quite measures up to its lofty ideals. Whether or not the veneer will start to crack, I don't know yet.

But no matter what happens, I can promise you a sweet story of a young woman from the countryside, exploring the wonders of the big city, with the help of friends and lovers she meets along the way. If this sort of thing sounds intriguing to you, and you're willing to take a chance on the idea of a long, drawn out soap opera style tale against the backdrop of this retro-futurist world, keep reading.

* * *

Preface

Welcome to the grand and glorious Commonwealth of Empyrea, friend! The history lessons you may have learned in school will not help you here, but this short introduction might.

The War to End All Wars was the one thing in modern history that lived up to its name. It just took a while to do so. Thirty years to be exact. The Armistice of 11 November 1918 was never signed. The Great War only ended on the 18th of June, 1944, a cloudless spring day in central Austria-Hungary, when the last two male combatants stood staring each other down on opposite shores of the Danube river. Each man locked the sights of his weapon on his enemy and fired. The result was the complete annihilation of the only remaining human Y-chromosomes on planet Earth.

With no more men left to fight, the women did what they always do and cleaned up the mess. The war effort was called off. To save the population from extinction, women of science banded together to invent the artificial conception method known as Double-X. Society's focus turned inward. The atomic bomb was never constructed. The contestants of the Space Race never stepped up to the starting block. Scientists and engineers concentrated their efforts on creating labor saving devices and automating manual work to make up for the severely diminished labor pool.

As a result, the reigning continental monarchies never dissolved into constitutional democracies (except for France where they lost their heads years ago.) And to settle the territories disputed during the war, new countries were created and a member of the ruling class appointed to oversee them. It was up to these autocratic rulers, of new countries and old, to keep the population engaged and happy, lest they come to the realization that even after thirty years of war and the death of half of humanity, nothing had really changed.

This is the story of one of those monarchies: The Commonwealth of Empyrea.

* * *

Chapter 1: Welcome to Empyrea City

Commonwealth of Empyrea, August 15, 2035

The roar of the passenger train grew louder as it approached, its pantograph crackling and sparking here and there against the wires above. The train's coming was announced by two blasts of its horn, followed by a short toot and another long blast. The rush of air from its passing blew at the trousers of Adelaide and Cordelia, making them stick to their legs, and kicked up a bit of dust from the road as the last car trundled along.

"Two long, a short, and another long," said Adelaide, brushing off and smoothing her pant legs as she continued trudging forward. "That's Q in Morse code."

"How do you know this stuff?" asked Cordelia.

Adelaide shrugged, turning her gaze to the shining, parallel rails and the train, skirting a field of wheat, to disappear into the distance.

"And why Q?"

"We should be on that train," mumbled Adelaide. "Instead of walking."

"It's a beautiful summer's day." Cordelia stretched her arms wide and twirled around once while gazing skyward. "And why Q?"

"What?"

"The train horn. You never answered me. You just said Q, Morse code, and then proceeded to moan about walking." Cordelia dropped her hands at her side with an audible slap. "Exercise is good for you, dear sister. And you couldn't ask for a more beautiful day than today."

"Q is for Queen."

"Don't mock me."

"Don't...? I'm not," said Adelaide. "The Q is short for Queen. It's what ships toot out if the queen is aboard. Trains do it too."

"You're pulling my leg."

"I...? No, I'm not." Adelaide stopped walking and turned to glare at her sister. "It tells the other ships to give them right of way. Because... because the queen is aboard. Then it just sort of became a thing. So they do it all the time now."

"That's such crap."

"It's not, actually, it's—"

"Everybody knows the queen never comes down from Elysium," said Cordelia. "Why would she step foot on land to board a train or a ship?"

"Well, I suppose maybe at some point—"

"Look," said Cordelia, pointing skyward. "There she is now."

The long, elliptical shadow of a dirigible cut diagonally across the road. Both women looked up where Cordelia pointed.

"That's what I'm going to do," said Cordelia. "When we get to Empyrea City, I'm marching straight down to the recruiting station and signing up. Up in the sky, that's where I belong."

"To be a dirigible pilot?"

"No, derp." Cordelia threw her hands in the air. "To be an angel escort. Look at them! So majestic."

Adelaide moved her eyes from the long, gray mass of the dirigible to the clusters of small, cross-like objects formed up around it in pairs.

"Strap yourself to a set of wings and float around chasing a blimp all day," said Adelaide. "No thanks."

"It's a very noble profession. Not just everyone is cut out be an angel pilot."

Adelaide humphed.

Cordelia turned and glared. "And what are you planning on signing up for? Bookkeeping? Accounting? So dull."

"Actually, I was thinking of culinary training. Maybe becoming a chef," said Adelaide.

"Last week it was accounting."

Adelaide shrugged. "Well..."

"Way to be decisive. This is why Mom says you'll never amount to anything."

"She does not," complained Adelaide.

Cordelia grinned. As Adelaide leaned in to slug her on the shoulder, Cordelia picked up her knees, jogging in place. "Come on, slowpoke," said Cordelia, before sprinting out ahead.

Adelaide took off after Cordelia, but stopped after a few minutes. Watching the distance between them growing, Adelaide hung her head, staring at her feet while huffing and puffing. "We could have taken the train!"

* * *

Empyrea City, one hour later

Adelaide paused and held her breath as she walked through the doors of the exhibition hall. Clustered before her was a sea of bodies, all young women like herself, all milling about or standing in front of one of the numerous booths around the hall's perimeter, talking to someone, usually a woman slightly older than herself, and usually with a pamphlet being passed between them.

"Oh, goodness," mumbled Adelaide. "Cordelia?" She craned this way and that. "Cordelia?"

"Good morning, friend," said a woman, not much older than Adelaide. Sharply dressed in a pencil skirt and heels, the woman cradled a stack of papers in her arm. She peeled one off the pile to thrust out to Adelaide.

"Um..." Adelaide looked down at the paper. "Good morning?"

"It's a map," said the woman, "of all the career representatives in attendance here today."

Adelaide took the single-sheet map and turned it to orient with the room's layout. "Oh, okay."

"It can be a little overwhelming," said the woman, flashing a smile. "If you find yourself needing help, just look for someone with a red badge." The woman let her clutch of maps dip to the side as she gestured to the badge hanging from the lanyard around her neck.

"Thanks, friend," said Adelaide. And just as the woman was turning away, Adelaide followed up with, "Can you tell me where the recruiting station is?"

The woman spun back around, holding the corner of her lip in her teeth, scanning Adelaide from head to toe and back again. "The self defense force? Air, land, or sea?"

"Um... air, I guess."

"Of course." The woman put on a fresh smile, shifted her stack of maps to one side, and pointed toward the back corner of the exposition hall. "Do you see the blue and white banner? The one with the wings?"

"Wings, I suppose that makes sense," mumbled Adelaide, pushing herself up onto tippy-toes and craning her neck. "Yeah, I see it now. Thanks."

"Great. And if you need any more assistance..." The woman pinched her lanyard between her thumb and fingers and shook it so the red badge around her neck jiggled and bounced.

"Red badge, got it. Thanks, friend."

* * *

"Cordelia," mumbled Adelaide, wrinkling the bottom of the map she clutched in her hand. As she began weaving her way through the mass of people in the exhibition hall, every so often she would stop to push herself up on tiptoes and reorient her gaze to the blue and white flag of the air self defense force.

Adelaide had just adjusted her course for the second time when she heard a voice behind her. "Angel escort or dirigible pilot?" said the voice.

"Huh?" Adelaide turned around.

"Maybe a navigator? You don't look arrogant enough to be a pilot."

"Sorry, friend, do I know—?"

"The name's Vivienne." The young woman now standing in front of Adelaide thrust out her hand. "This is my third time here, so if you need anything, I'm your gal."

"Um..."

"No offense, friend, but why the self defense force?"

"Huh?"

"You're heading for the recruiting station, aren't you?"

"Yes..." Adelaide shook her head. "No... Cordelia. I'm looking for my sister, Cordelia. She's the one heading for the recruiting station."

"Let me guess," said Vivienne. "Tall, blonde, athletic... devastatingly handsome?"

"Um... yeah, I guess. Tall, blonde, and athletic, anyway."

"Angel escort," sighed Vivienne, clutching her hands to the center of her chest. "When you find her, could you introduce us? I've always wanted to experience an angel between the sheets. Even if it's just for..."

Adelaide stared, her mouth gaping.

"Sorry," said Vivienne, dropping her hands to her sides and hanging her head. "That was cringy. It's your sister."

"Um..."

"I talk too much," said Vivienne. "It's like, you know how most people have that filter between their brain and their mouth that keeps certain thoughts confined only to their head? Well, mine's broken. Or I was never born with one to begin with. That's why it's my third time here at the career expo. I keep saying something stupid and getting myself in a mess. Then I switch jobs."

Adelaide opened her mouth to reply, but Vivienne spoke first. "And I'm doing it again," said Vivienne. "I'll leave you alone. If you need help, just look for someone with a—"

"A red badge?" said Adelaide, finally.

"Yeah," said Vivienne, meeting Adelaide's gaze for just a moment before casting her eyes to her feet.

"Friend Vivienne?" said Adelaide, reaching out with her open hand. "My name's Adelaide. I'm new here. Would you mind showing me around? Since it's your third time and all?"

Vivienne looked up. She lifted her hand, pointed to the center of her chest, and mouthed the word, "Me?"

"It is your third time, right?" said Adelaide.

Vivienne nodded.

"Great!" Adelaide took Vivienne by the hand and proceeded to weave their fingers together. "This is my first time attending the expo, and I'm a little overwhelmed. A lot, actually. So, if you don't mind...?"

"What about your sister?"

"You still want to date her?"

Vivienne's cheeks cycled through three shades of crimson. "I meant—"

"It's okay," said Adelaide, tugging Vivienne closer. "I'm just teasing."

"It's just a woman in uniform fantasy." Vivienne sighed. "It would never work out. Pilots always seem to have a little more attitude than the rest of us. Cocky is probably the best word... Oh! I'm so sorry, I'm doing it again. I didn't mean to suggest—"

"No. That pretty well sums up Cordelia."

"Sorry, friend."

"I suppose that kind of arrogance makes sense when you're doing something dangerous like flying. Thinking gravity is something that applies to everybody else, the regular folks, but not to you."

"But what about you, Friend Adelaide? What do you want to do?"

"I..." started Adelaide. "When I woke up this morning, I was sure it was going to be culinary school. Pastries, cakes, pies. Then as we were walking, a train passed by and I thought about being a motor mechanic or maybe apprenticing at the hydro-electric plant. That lasted five minutes, because the Elysium flew overhead and Cordelia started going on about being an angel pilot. And then she ran off."

"So you don't know, then?"

Adelaide shook her head. "I guess not."

"Me neither," said Vivienne. "What do you say we pick a side and make our way down the line. Then, if we still don't know, we'll do the other side."

Adelaide nodded.

"So, right side or left side?"

Adelaide shrugged.

"Which side has culinary school?" said Vivienne. "That sounds like fun. We'll start there."

* * *

Three weeks later

Adelaide opened the door to the small apartment and shrugged the book bag from her shoulders as soon as she cleared the doorway. With one strap still sliding down her right arm, she let the bag drop to the floor. And as Adelaide stooped to dig inside, Vivienne came sauntering down the hallway, humming a tune, with a towel wrapped around her head and not a stitch of anything else.

"Hey, babe," said Vivienne.

"Hey," said Adelaide, glancing up while pulling out her textbook.

"Homework again?"

Adelaide nodded. "You?"

"Just washed the last of mine off me. The rest is in the fridge if you want some. Today was Flan Pâtissier day. The pastry part got a little messy, but there's extra custard filling if you want some. It's delish."

"Sounds tempting."

"Better than debits and credits and ledgers," teased Vivienne. "Not that there's anything wrong with... never mind."

Adelaide snickered as she sat down and cracked her textbook open to where the sheet of practice problems was wedged in between the pages.

"By the way," said Vivienne. "I sort of invited somebody from class over later. Her name's Cosette. And yes, funny you should ask, she is the exchange student from Paris. So if you hear any noises from the bedroom, be sure to come in and join us."

"I'm supposed to be having dinner with Cordelia, so I'm afraid you're going to have to wrangle Cosette without my help."

"Or you could tell your sister there's Flan Pâtissier for dessert and see what happens." Vivienne frowned. "Sorry. Filter."

"I know, Viv," said Adelaide. "I'm used to your filter. Or lack of one."

"You're the best!" Vivienne leaned in to kiss Adelaide on the back of the neck, holding her towel to her head with her right hand, and wrapping her other arm around Adelaide's shoulders. "Seriously though—"

"Not inviting my sister over for your sex fantasy."

Vivienne stood up straight again, "I was going to say, have some of the leftover custard. Be good for you. Put some meat on these bones... Sorry. Filter again."

Adelaide grinned, ran her hand over the sheet of accounting problems to press it flat, and picked up her pencil.

* * *

Two hours later

Adelaide strode through the open doorway of the café and quickly scanned the row of patrons seated at the bar. Of the dozen or so flight suits arrayed there, not a single one was being worn by Cordelia.

"Buy you a drink, friend?" asked one of the uniformed women, a tall blonde with short cropped hair.

"I'm meeting someone," said Adelaide.

"It's just a drink, friend, I wasn't suggesting—"

"I'm meeting my sister."

The woman in uniform grinned. "So I still have a chance, then?"

Adelaide flashed a smile. "My roommate will be steamed if I don't come home. We're supposed to be having a threesome later. With the French girl from her class. That's her plan anyway."

The woman chuckled. "Tough competition," she said.

Adelaide shrugged. She turned her gaze to the café entrance where Cordelia now stood, waving. "She's here," said Adelaide.

"The French girl?"

"My sister."

"Perhaps another time, then?"

"Perhaps. Thanks for the offer, friend," Adelaide flashed another quick smile and began walking back toward the doorway.

"Hey, sis," said Cordelia, opening her arms wide. "Been waiting long?"

"Nah," said Adelaide, stepping in for a hug. "Long enough to get hit on by one of your squad mates, but otherwise... hey, where's your uniform?"

"I'm just a cadet," said Cordelia. "Nobody's going to be lining up to swoon over a gal in a cadet uniform. Besides, I'm here to see you."

"Well, it's good to see you, sis."

"You, too. How's classes?"

"Good. Just intro stuff. Nothing too hard. How's flying?"

"Are you kidding?" said Cordelia. "I'm still in the classroom. There's so much to cover before we even think about strapping on a pair of angel wings. Physics. Can you believe it? Me? Pitch and yaw. Lift and drag. Chord lines—"

"Chord lines?"

"The shape of the wing. You can adjust it in-flight for better maneuverability. Right now it's all just theory, though. I haven't actually..." said Cordelia. "Enough about that. Let's get a table. I'm famished. And tell me more about you. You still happy with bookkeeping?"

* * *

Two minutes later

"So you're not happy with bookkeeping?" Cordelia asked, as Adelaide sat fidgeting on the other side of the sidewalk table.

"It's okay, I guess," said Adelaide. "I don't know."

"What about your roommate. Um, Virginia... uh..."

"Vivienne."

"Vivienne," said Cordelia. "What's she doing?"

"Pastry chef."

"Pastry chef. You talked about culinary school before we came to the city."

"I don't know," said Adelaide, staring down at the table for a moment and then turning her head to gaze at people passing by. "I kind of want to do something that will make a difference. I don't think making cream puffs is going to do that. Balancing invoices and general ledgers probably isn't either."

"You could enlist."

"Air self defense force? Me?"

"For every pilot there's at least a dozen support positions on the ground. Motor mechanics. Aerodyne engineering. Fire brigade. Medical staff."

"I don't know..."

"This is why Mom likes me better."

"She... Shut up. She does not."

Cordelia smirked.

"Meany." Adelaide pulled the corners of her mouth down, but soon lost the battle and began grinning as well.

"Come on, sis," said Cordelia. "Let's order something extravagant. And eat as many courses as it takes to figure out how to get you out of this funk you're wallowing in and into a career you'll enjoy."

"Can we start with some of those hot pepper appetizer things that are stuffed with cheese? I love those."

"Jalapeño poppers, huh?" said Cordelia, rubbing her chin. "Maybe it's best you didn't decide on culinary school."

Across the table, Adelaide stuck her tongue out while Cordelia flagged down a server. "Two beers and a plate of jalapeño poppers, please, friend," said Cordelia.

* * *