Flash Fic: Aide-De-Camp

Frieda picked up the approaching hostiles through her seismic sensors long before she saw or heard them. Numbering twenty, likely laden with gear. A quick tap into the security feeds told the full story. Figures, she thought with a hint of exasperation as she dusted the display cases in the west portico. The one time I get a chance to make this place perfectly tidy, the family not being underfoot, and this happens. Amateurs. She sent a burst on the staff frequency, moving down the corridor towards the conservatory. The harp needed tuning, and she had a mind to try some new variations on Ravel's Piano Concerto For The Left Hand on her break.

Unfortunately for that respite, the intruders were making straight for the patio outside the conservatory, It was the closest point of entry, and Frieda would not be pleased if fumble fingered Haslathi kidnappers damaged the instruments or the furnishings. More to the point, Kevin Manfredi would not pleased. And if "the Colonel" was not happy, nobody was happy.

Opening the patio doors in the conservatory, Frieda took a moment to pull out a cleaning cloth from an apron pocket and rub off a smudge on a small pane of armorglass set in the door. The material could stop most kinetic weapons below light anti-ship cannon, but it seemed to attract oils right out of the air. She was still worrying at the smudge when she heard the intruders close by. She turned slowly, looking up with perfectly crafted surprise as she ran facial recognition subroutines. Six known criminals out of twenty souls. Must've been rough on the Haslathi clans the last few years. "Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"You can take us to the owner of this overly extravagant shelter," the team leader replied matter-of-factly. "And you can put these on," he added, tossing a pair of manacles at her feet.

"Unfortunately, Colonel Manfredi is away from the residence, as are his wife and their children. And I have no intention of restraining myself in that fashion." She delicately kicked the manacles back towards the kidnappers. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but you're trespassing here. If you leave now, nothing untoward happens. If you're still here in five minutes Earth Standard Chronometry, I cannot be held responsible for what follows."

The kidnappers laughed at the warning. The team leader was right there with his comrades in their mirth, but a tickle of uncertainty lurked in his eyes. This menial looked human. She wasn't dressed like one of the Raiders which Manfredi had commanded fifteen years earlier. No obvious weapons or armor. Yet there was something...unnerving about her. The movement, just a little too perfect. Her appearance, just that little bit too flawless. It was more like looking at a piece of machinery than a person.

"And if we refuse to make use of this overly generous window to withdraw?" the team leader asked, still chuckling.

"Then you can't complain later that you weren't warned," Frieda said tonelessly. The laughter began to die down, replaced by a growing unease. "Believe me, I'd prefer not to have to kill you. Dextro-amino blood stains are an incredible chore to get out of any surface, and I had other plans today. Plus, the gardener would complain about sections of the lawn turning brown."

Another voice spoke up. "Is there a problem here, Frieda?"

The kidnappers watched as a tall and imperiously slim man came over. The team leader felt his unease rising. Looked human, like the woman he'd called Frieda. No arms or armor, like Frieda. Different clothes, a sense of archaism to them, but a uniform to be sure. He moved smoothly, far too smoothly for a human.

"There will be, Jean, in about 230 seconds."

"Haslathi kidnappers, six of them with a substantial bounty on their heads, I can see why you think so." The newcomer, Jean, looked at the kidnapping crew, his expression impassive. "I believe neutralization protocols should be sufficient for this situation."

"Not elimination?" Frieda asked quietly. The team leader thought he detected a note of...disappointment in her voice. As if she'd actually been looking forward to killing them, despite her earlier words to the contrary.

"I don't see the need to disturb our operations here more than they already are," Jean stated, his expression blank as he shot the cuffs on his tail coat smartly. "And dextro-amino blood stains are so tedious to get out." 

(This piece originally appeared on r/humansarespaceorcs)