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CHAPTER1
Sara
I found out about my world’s surrender, and its awful consequences, before nearly all the rest of the women on Artemisia did. I found out before most of the rest of the planet’s population, in fact, since the Magisterians hadn’t yet separated men and women, at gunpoint, into separate ‘spheres of life’ as the Magisterian Federation called their patriarchal system.
Or, to be more accurate, not at gunpoint but at cane-point, which frankly seemed to me much worse. When the Magisterian special police came to take me away to the reformation center—the very first of the women of Artemisia to suffer that fate—I would rather they had shot me instead.
“Miss Sara Granzofar?” the officer in the purple uniform asked when I opened the door of my apartment.
“Ms.,” I replied, purely out of reflex. His eyebrows went up. The other officer, whose uniform seemed to have a smaller number of shiny badges on it, chuckled.
“Not anymore, Miss Granzofar,” the superior officer said flatly. ¨To confirm, you are Miss Sara Granzofar, formerly head of Artemisia’s Global Public Relations Department?”
“Formerly?” I demanded. My mind reeled. It was Saturday morning. I had just woken up, and I had on sweatpants, a t-shirt, and running shoes; I had been about to go to the gym. I would have to put in some work later on three or four press releases despite it being the weekend, but a visit from the Magisterian special police would seriously fuck up my day.
Since the beginning of the peace negotiations between Artemisia and the Magisterian Federation, these purple-clad assholes had grown more numerous in the capital, where I lived and worked, as the youngest cabinet secretary in the history of my world. I hadn’t had to deal with them, though.
The superior officer gave an audible sigh, his broad shoulders rising and falling noticeably as he apparently got his frustration with me under control.
“Are you Sara Granzofar?” he asked.
I frowned deeply. I had rights, right? Even if the worst had happened and the negotiations had gone very badly, surely I didn’t have to answer to the Magisterian special police?
“Who wants to know?” I demanded.
“In fact,” the man said, “you should know that I’m not required to tell you my name, according to the treaty signed by your government an hour ago, but as a courtesy I will tell you nevertheless that I’m Major Harrow of the Magisterian Special Office for Planetary Reparations, and this is Lieutenant Withers of the same office.”
I would have interrupted him before he could extend that courtesy, but my jaw had dropped and I had started breathing so quickly I could feel myself begin to hyperventilate.
“Treaty? What treaty? Wehavea—”
Major Harrow interrupted me.
“Had, Miss Granzofar,” he said with infuriating smoothness. “That treaty has been superseded by the one your president signed this morning. As you’ve obviously guessed, the terms of the new treaty have been kept secret until now, just as the ongoing negotiations have been.”
“But—” I tried, my mind veering between anger and sudden terror. A secret treaty with the Magisterian Federation. Precisely what so many of us had feared. The fate of the other egalitarian worlds who had joined the Vionian Empire in their war against the Magisterians… enforced here, on Artemisia…
Again the major interrupted me.
“I can see from your expression, Miss Granzofar, that you understand at least some of what the terms of the treaty entail. You’ve clearly heard stories about Magisteria and our method of obtaining reparations from various planetary systems who participated in the lamentable war.”
My eyes went wide. I felt the color drain from my face.
“Now’s when you tell me that I really have nothing to fear,” I whispered into the silence Major Harrow had left. My eyes went from his handsome, bearded middle-aged face to that of his subordinate, just as attractive in his purple uniform and peaked cap, though ten years younger. The wild thought rose irrepressibly in my mind that despite their inherent evil, the Magisterians sure knew how to dress and to groom themselves.
The major smiled with an air of patronizing indulgence that made my heart skip a beat—with fear, I told myself angrily… only fear.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, miss,” he said. The wordmissin his mouth made me want to scream, because of how very much it conveyed about the ultra-privilege of the wealthy, powerful Magisterians—their men, anyway, because it seemed no one knew what Magisterian women were like at all, beyond wild rumors of orgiastic autonomy and self-government. “From your standpoint, I’m quite sure the stories and their terrors—that is, for a girl like you—are more or less true. So, allow me to ask you one final time before I’m forced to make you regret your lack of cooperation, are you in fact Miss Sara Granzofar?”
I looked down and realized that I had unconsciously thrust both my hands in front of my midriff and clenched them into fists. I felt my face crumple as I looked up again into Major Harrow’s face. For a moment I considered refusing to answer, or even lying, but the terrifying stories about the Magisterian special police rose into my mind’s eye once again.
“Yes,” I whispered. “But… but I’m twenty-eight… Not… you know… a girl…”
Major Harrow smiled patiently. “You’re a very accomplished young woman, aren’t you, Miss Granzofar? Head of a planetary government office at twenty-eight?”
I felt my face pucker with dismay at his condescending tone as I nodded. What scared me the most, I suddenly understood, was the fact that Major Harrow didn’t seem crazy, or even cruel. He simply had his own highly rational, extremely privileged framework through which he looked at the universe. The thought that his framework might even bemorerational than mine, in certain ways, rose into my mind and a wave of uneasiness passed through me.
“From a Magisterian standpoint, however,” he said calmly, “you are an unwed girl. That makes you subject to certain provisions in the treaty—most notably at the moment, it makes you entirely subject to my authority. We’re going to enter your apartment now and help you get ready for transfer to your reformation facility.”
