Bleeda grunted a hello, as she rapidly crammed food into her mouth, slurping sounds filling the room. She had removed her armor breastplate to eat in comfort; her full breasts threatened to explode out of her bullet-proof corset and onto the table.
Khan lifted her glass. “To Hunza!”
Bleeda stopped gorging, picked up her wine glass and toasted, “To Hunza!”
“To Hunza, and to my queen!” praised Wrjinn, glass raised.
Wrjinn’s blue eyes burned intelligently in her dark, angular, Asian face. In her mid-sixties, her blond hair had turned almost completely silver. She wore a long coat made of tanned battle boar hide. The Hunzanian runes representing power and knowledge adorned her garment.
Professor Nara Wrjinn was the Hunzanian ministress of bioengineering. During her thirty-year career, she had perfected the Rekol beetle, the avocactus plant and the battle boar – all resulting from oil- and sex-purchased American biogenetics techniques and data. She had spent years working directly with plants and animals in the storm-beaten desert aboard her bioengineering Hun-Vee, laden with cutting-edge American laboratory equipment.
Wrjinn was also the modern mother of the decades-old She-Hun female parthenogenesis program. Her contributions to earlier She-Hun scientific work now allowed this race of women to procreate perfect, female She-Hun babies without any DNA contribution from male sperm. Mixing the DNA of a She-Hun mother-to-be with that of female Huns buried in the 5th century, Wrjinn was responsible for the fearsome race of women-warriors that aimed to conquer America, and one day, the entire world.
Khan’s personal servant, the captured Clear Channel clone Rush Limbaugh, entered the room carrying another bowl of avocactus puree and put it on the table, near Bleeda. His gaze lowered, he bowed and wordlessly left the room.
Bleeda served herself another large piece of roasted Rekol beetle meat and began to devour it.
“Boota, leave some for us!” joked Khan.
Bleeda gesticulated with her grease-covered hands as she spoke, “So, Professor Wrjinn, how are you coming along with our newest living weapons?”
Wrjinn responded confidently, “That’s why I’ve come today. Everything has been going on schedule and I would like to invite you both to stop by my lab this evening at six o’clock to witness a live demonstration.”
Limbaugh entered the room again, carrying a clay carafe on a serving tray. It contained “mordac,” a stimulating, endorphin-rich tincture produced from a gland found in the Rekol beetle brain. This liquid was incredibly labor intensive to produce, and the carafe held the result of 50,000 beetle brains. He poured out three small glasses and placed them in front of the seated women. As he replaced the stopper in the carafe, it slipped from his hand and the bottle fell to the floor, smashing into pieces.
“Rush!” screamed Khan. “You imbecile! That bottle represented two thousand woman-hours of work. You will make up those hours yourself. You won’t have a free day for years to come!”
Limbaugh said nothing for a few seconds, drilling his stare into his master’s eyes. He could not help himself. The words, “Fuck you, you pagan, lesbian bitch,” slowly issued forth from his lips.
Khan was stunned into silence. She could not believe this lowly man-servant had just demonstrated such insolence.
“Nitra, I think you should bring this foul-mouthed, inept servant along with you tonight,” suggested Wrjinn. “It will fulfill his fate nicely.”
“Excellent idea, professor. We’ll see you at six o’clock, sharp.”