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This page, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Planet Trade Organization, was a recipient of the official 2015 Dragon Ball Fanon Wiki award for “Best Multi-chapter Stories”. Great job! |
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This page, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Planet Trade Organization, was a recipient of the official 2016 Dragon Ball Fanon Wiki award for “Best Multi-chapter Stories”. Great job! |
This is the fourth volume in the series of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Planet Trade Organization. Volume IV consists of accounts documenting Icer's rule of the Planet Trade Organization up until its total fracturing in Age 777. In this volume, empires will rise and fall, galactic trade routes will be destroyed, and trillions of lives will be lost. This volume, the last in the series, shows not only the fall of the Planet Trade Organization, but of order in general within the universe.
This volume's theme song is Wicked Campaign by Modest Mouse.
The previous volume in this series, volume III, can be found here.
Planet Trade Organization Leaders: Start[]
This section will detail who is in charge of the Planet Trade Organization as of the start of this volume:
| Leader | Role | Number of Soldiers | Relation |
|---|---|---|---|
| Icer | Ruling King of the PTO | Several trillion | Younger brother of King Cold |
| Hail | Princess; Military Admiral of the PTO | Several billion | Daughter of Icer |
| Polaria | Princess; Military General of the PTO | Several billion | Daughter of Icer |
| Kuriza | Prince of the PTO | Several million | First son of Frieza |
| Yuki | Military General of the PTO | Several million | First daughter of Nitro |
Maps[]
Please note: this section contains spoilers for this book. Light grey regions indicate unclaimed territory. Orange regions indicate officers in rebellion from the Planet Trade Organization. Brown regions indicate areas infested by space pirates.
The Planet Trade Organization's map orientation considers the western region of Universe 7 to be in the north. As a result, Earth and the rest of the northern territory are located in the western region of these maps.
Chapter I: A Scar-Flash of Blue[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Lychin |
| Position: | Governor in Icer's Empire |
| Date of account: | February 17 - March 10, Age 767 (first scene) March 12, Age 767 (second and third scenes) |
Wings spread… piercing through the light… impossible in length, feathers like globulets of boiling gold. Not long before… screaming till I was deaf… bleeding talons punctured… the splendor of the gods before my… A scar-flash of blue remained imprinted on my eyes. Don’t wake…
The etchings of a madman had been cut into the wall opposite the energy-shielded door, having been worn away by grime and time. Next to me, a man was banging his head against the wall. I would have let him continue, but whenever he pulled back, a smattering of blood ran down his face to the floor. It did not take long before I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Hey, what are you doing? Stop that… you’re hurting yourself! Hey… doesn’t that hurt? Stop it!”
His breath was sour, his voice surly. “Get offa me! Leave me be. I’m good. I’m good. Ain’t done nothin’ to nobody. Leave me be!”
My fellow returned to his previous activity. I shivered, looking away. At least he wouldn’t be able to put up with that for much longer. He’d be out of it soon enough. But was that what I really wanted? Surely not. The guards would come, cart his body away, and I’d be alone. I didn’t want to be alone. If you’re alone, you’re forgotten. Or worse, I’d get a new companion. There was a good chance anyone else I got would be a raving murderer liable to choke me in my sleep. I preferred this sort of madness, as grating as it was.
Mold covered our cell in pink-green splotches. There was hardly anywhere to sit. The rough black stones could not possibly absorb any heat. My bed had been laid with only a single pillow and a single blanket. They had already taken from me my armor and clothes. I wore a simple, roughspun tunic and shorts. No socks, no shoes. The stones were icy cold–enough to suck the life from me.
He kept on pounding away at his head. What was he trying to accomplish?
I called for the guard. He took his sweet time before appearing before the barrier. The patterned crease on his cheek showed just how deeply he had been sleeping. I wanted to sleep. I had to get out of here. This wasn’t right. I shouldn’t be here. I wasn’t fit for prison. Bael had made a terrible mistake. The man’s yellow eyes were the eyes of a commoner, the eyes of a man who had spent all his life in service of other, wealthier men. He reeked disdain in my general direction.
“What’re you crying about, inmate?”
“You need to do something about him. He’s going to crack his skull open if he keeps up with that…” I pointed to the bleeding Faerin behind me. He’d gotten blood all over his prison garb. “Look at him. He’s gone absolutely mental. You have to do something.”
“I do?” Disinterest flooded the guard’s eyes. “Or what? You’ll complain to management?”
“But, he’s going to kill himself! You have to–”
“I don’t have to do shit, inmate. Now shut up, or you aren’t getting any dinner. Would you like that? Heh, thought so.”
With that, the man marched back up the stairs, his periwinkle cape fluttering like tearing skin. My companion had not ceased his compulsive behavior. There was nothing for me to do except return to my bed and watch him. My thoughts had clouded over, becoming as difficult to grasp as shadows on the wall. I was numb in the fingers. My belly rumbled, but I was not hungry. My eyelids grew heavy, but I was not tired. My body and mind had diverged paths, it seemed. I was so cold.
He went to bed, or maybe he bled out. It grew quiet. I had never tasted such bitter relief before. Sitting up against the wall in bed, I tried to come up with a means of talking my way out of this, or perhaps blasting my way out of this, but I could come up with nothing. The collar around my neck, glowing faintly blue, prevented me from powering up. I noticed that my companion wore no such device. He was no threat. He was a weak Faerin–a typical Faerin. Not like me, who grinded my way through the officer’s academy, who distinguished myself in dozens of battles, who was promoted to the honorable rank of governor of Planet Frieza 068.
None of this was fair. I didn’t deserve to be here. That was obvious to anyone–even the guard had to know deep down that he was playing a part in this injustice. Maybe he liked that. The emotion of self-pity passed through me like light beams. For one moment, I was ensnared by it; in the next, I let go. This would not be my end, I told myself over and over. For Polaria’s sake, I would get through this. I would see her again.
She was not dead. Everything Bael had told me was a lie. In his vanity, he had misled us. I would not believe his treason. I would see her again. But why? If he knew Icer yet lived, if he knew the twins yet lived, if he knew Arcterial was alive… why did he murder Avalan? Had he even murdered Avalan? Was that nothing more than a test of loyalty? But why? To what end? I had displayed loyalty many times already. He never made anyone else work so hard. The Council of Faeri had been purged on my orders. Why had he doubted me after that? Was Bael truly so paranoid as to believe I was working him over by following orders?
Maybe he didn’t trust me because of Polaria. It made sense, I had to admit. That’s why he had chosen her as the one who had been consumed by Mal Vexus. Curse him. His story was too on-the-nose. I should have seen through that damn ruse. Why was I so dumb? Why had I taken the bait? If he had the courage to face me again, I would not hesitate. He had to die for this. I was no longer the warrior I had once been, but that didn’t matter anymore. I would get out of here, and I would see her again. I kept telling myself that, repeating it to the low drum beat of a cracked skull against stone, still echoing in my mind.
They were intentionally underfeeding us. One meal of watery soup a day was all we got. The guard came down, a hover tray on either side of him, unlocked the door, engaged our throat collar overloads, making it impossible for us to move as burning electricity coursed through our veins, and served us with a grim, satisfied look. That was so kind of him.
The first day, I said nothing to him. My vocal cords having just been fried, I couldn’t find the words.
My companion resumed his compulsory activity after dinner. I had nothing to do but listen. I tugged at the device around my neck all day, hoping to break it. But any time I put too much strain upon it, the nasty piece of metal gave me a zap. It was no use. There was a camera in the corner of the room, watching me constantly. Even if I got it off, then what? Maybe that’s what Bael wanted.
Deep in the bowels of the prison, I had no sense of time. The only regularity was the guard appearing once a day with two food trays. Days blurred to weeks, and hunger began to take its toll. My cheeks and fingertips tingled constantly. I was unable to get out of bed. My hands had contorted in pain. I was unable to grip the sides of the bowl, having to lap at it like some feral space-badger. My companion had a good pace to him now. It sounded like every time he cracked his head against the wall, his skull was going to shatter like an egg. I began to take comfort in that thrumming.
I was too tired to be angry anymore. My thoughts were with my love. I would be reunited with her soon, I kept telling myself. If it was Bael’s plan to starve me to death, that wasn’t far off from succeeding. I no longer felt my belly rumbling. A pressing feeling, like Sennoni lying on top of me, held me down. I had not the strength to speak to the other inmate anymore.
My dreams were no different than waking life. Everything had become one. I wondered vaguely if my companion had been the one to scratch that nonsense into the wall. Closing my eyes, I yearned for that flash of blue, whatever it could be. What had he seen? A simple energy attack? An explosion? What else could it have been?
… feathers like globulets of boiling gold, I remembered. I was too weak to return to it. Much of the ramblings had been lost to filth and mold, but that line stuck out, had remained, and I remembered. My mother returned to me then, like a shadow demon dancing through the smoke and mist. The Meyhr Vehki. The Galactic Phoenix. It is said whoever captures it and manages to pluck a single feather from its wing will have eternal life. Mother laughed and melted into the wall. I laughed with her, stumbling to my feet.
My bones ached. I collapsed against the energy door, moaning in pain as it burned my hands and chest. It took all of my effort to roll away. I called for the guard. Tears ran down my cheeks. I didn’t feel them. There was no emotion within me. I was an empty husk. Why was I crying? I couldn’t know. It was like bleeding. It had to be. I had no control.
“Guard! Guard, I need you! Guard!!”
My voice was hoarse and weary. I could barely raise it above the sound of my companion’s crunching. How could he bleed himself like that every day? The room was spinning. I called out again. I begged, pleaded, sobbed. Trying to orient myself, I tried to picture Polaria, but all I could see a failed wax figure, one-eyed and wobbly-footed. My imagination was broken. I slept and woke and ate and slept and woke and ate and slept and woke and slept and woke and slept.
“Come, please! Guard! I need you! Emergency! Guard! Please, it’s an emergency!!” I cried out. Was it day or night? How long had I been here? “Bael! Bring me Bael! I want to speak to him! Bring that coward to me! Bael!! Bael?! Where are you Bael?! Bael!! Show your cowardly face!” I roared brazenly, knowing that such hostility should be enough to make the guard at least come down to threaten me with another collar overload. “Where are you, Bael?! Face me, coward! Bael! Do you think you can lock me away and shut me up?! It won’t work! Show your face, murderer! You craven! Don’t want to sully your boots down here in the filth?! How typical!! Bael!”
My throat was dry enough to choke me. I banged my hands against the wall until the pain overwhelmed me. My burnt palms were covered in blisters. Not realizing that, I slapped the stone wall as hard as I could. When the blisters burst, I fell back screaming, the pain overwhelming my vision. All I saw was piercing light, comfortless and cold. A governor’s blood smeared on the wall, and no one cared.
“Bael!! Show your face, coward! Face me like a man! What are you so afraid of?! How dare you treat me like a piece of garbage! I am a Fleet Admiral! I am your equal! Coward! Murderer! Coward! Murderer!”
My voice broke every time I yelled, but I didn’t care. I was parched and starving. My body was buzzing in pain. I had nowhere to run, nowhere to go. Every part of me was on fire. I would see my love again. This would not be my end. Defiantly, I cried out again. The thrumming of a skull against stone continued with the same tired plodding pace as my heartbeat.
Falling to my knees, my chest heaving, I called for Bael to show his caitiff face. I wanted nothing more than to beat the life out of him. My collar was suffocating. I pulled at it, but felt no shock. So I tugged it again. It was a snug fit, and I lacked the strength the break through the metal. I called for the guard. How could he be so lazy?
“Get me Bael! Guard! Bring him to me! I need to see that coward at once! Urgently! Bring him to me! Where’s he hiding? I need to talk to him! Guard!”
The Arcosian with pink skin, spiky body armor, and a green head jewel so light in color it might have been mistaken for yellow, descended the staircase before me. My love glided over to me from the darkness. My waking eyes could not be deceived.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Lychin,” she replied, her voice deep and manly. “I’m afraid Admiral Bael had an accident, and he won’t be able to see you ever again.”
“Wha… who are you?!” I cried, tears obscuring my vision.
Polaria smiled at me, her form dissolving away, and there stood Icer in his final form, arms folded, looking straight into my eyes with pity. The energy door powered down. He unhooked the collar with ease, throwing the twisted piece of metal into the corner of the cell without care.
“The other… his head wound needs treating…” I gasped, pointing wildly behind me.
“What are you talking about, Admiral? There’s no one in here except for you.”
My face was tingling. My neck was covered in sweat. I felt dizzy. Trying to stand, I whispered, “B-but… Bael… the g-guard… they put me in with him… I’ve been here forever. Where’s Polaria? Where’s Bael? Lord Icer…”
I collapsed against him. He caught me with ease. “You need to rest, Lychin. Tell me, have you gone mad, or are you still intact?”
“I-I’m here, my lord,” I cried. “I’m alive.”
“Excellent. Much has happened since he locked you away down here. Not all of it is good. But I am emperor now, and Bael is dead. I will need you to save this planet from itself… after you get some rest, Lychin. You look absolutely dreadful.”
“My lord…” I tried to say, but there was nothing for me to grasp onto. Polaria was a shadow of a memory in my mind. I couldn’t form her anymore. Bael and the guard were likewise faceless shapes swirling in my mind. The inmate with the cracked skull looked up at me and giggled, a trickle of blood falling from his wound down his cheek. He was real. I had tackled him, and he had spoken to me. This was a nightmare. What was going on? Nothing remained for me to tether myself to reality. I felt the darkness and the weariness come over me again, and this time, I did not try to fight it.
Admiral Jahu was leaning against the open balustrade when I came to. It felt good to feel sunlight on my face again.
“So you’re alive,” she said, walking over as soon as I opened my eyes. I realized she had been watching me sleep. That was weird. “You’ve been out for almost two days, Lychin.”
I sat up, feeling empty, but not weak. “Where… where are we? Where’s Lord Icer?”
“Ikestal. Doctors have been monitoring you since you were found.”
I noticed the IV device floating next to the bed. This was a small room with muddy blue walls and white tile for the floor and ceiling. From where Jahu had come from, I could make out buildings rising above the fog in the distance, black and grey and sparkling like plastic toys with all their lights.
“Jahu, where’s Lord Icer?”
“He’s returned to Lipanto, I’m afraid. He wants you to stay here. You are now in command of Faeri. He’s appointed you the military governor.”
“Why? What happened to Bael?”
“He’s dead.” She was chewing on a fingernail absentmindedly. “Brain hemorrhage, apparently. Captain Cermani found him in his quarters. He had been asleep.”
“Of all the ways to go…”
“He was preparing the fleet to hunt down Kuriza when it happened. He thought Icer, Hail, Polaria, and Arcterial had been vaporized in Mal Vexus’ hypernova. That proved to be… incorrect information.”
“Tell me what happened. I don’t know much about it. Bael only relayed a few rumors on the day… on the day he murdered Avalan.”
Jahu nodded, her eyes flashing darkly. “Lord Icer won the civil war. He killed his brother and brought both Kuriza and Yuki to submission. There were heavy casualties on all sides, courtesy of the hypernova, but none of the senior officers were killed. Arcterial’s former officers now serve Icer.”
“And what of Polaria? There were rumors… I mean, Bael said there were rumors…”
“She was maimed by the explosion, yes. They are currently treating her at Lipanto. I have not seen her with my own eyes. I don’t know how bad it is, Lychin. Icer seemed no different than usual, but he is not one to wear his emotions openly.”
“He’s not. Well, I can’t say I’m surprised he was able to bring the boy and the hybrid under his leash. But he killed Arcterial? Seriously? I would not have expected that.”
“He hurt him greatly in their duel. Apparently Arcterial was unable to recover, even in a rejuvenation tank, before they met again about three weeks later. We don’t know much of the details. Kuriza was there too. Icer defeated both of them, one after another.”
“What the hell? He’s a lot tougher than he lets on. At the outset of the war, few would have pegged him to come out on top… and so cleanly at that. He’s been severely underrated by all of us.”
“And he chose not to destroy our world, even after Bael’s act of defiance. I’d like to think I convinced him,” she sighed, sitting at the end of my bed, looking off out the window, “but I don’t think he much cared what I had to say about it, one way or another.”
“And we’re sure Bael was killed by a hemorrhage? Where’s Cermani? I want to speak to him.”
“Executed, along with all the rest of the officers in service of Bael.”
Blood rushed to my head. My heartbeat throbbed in my ear, and I shuddered, remembering. “Every single one? He didn’t speak to Paprikan first?”
A shadow of doubt crept over her face. “Paprikan? N-no, I don’t think he was present on Splendor of the Gods when Icer arrived… not sure where he was, actually. But he’s escaped now, no doubt. News of what happened spread like starfire. The emperor executed every officer in service of Bael–every officer he could find. So at present, we have a fleet of fifty ships without anyone capable of commanding them.”
This was too much information for me to retain. “Fifty?” I was at a loss. “Our fleet was much larger than that.”
“Icer took the rest. His forces were depleted by the hypernova. There are probably only around three hundred ships left. Kuriza and Yuki have less than that combined. If anything, he’s being generous, allowing us to retain such a large security fleet.”
“That pirate–Medler–he swore he’d plunder and pillage through Faeri until the planet was reduced to ash.”
“Yes, I was made aware of that by Meiquano.”
“He lives?”
“He did good helping you weed out Sennoni’s lackeys in the Council. The emperor thought it best to spare him. Speaking of which, the next Great Council of Faeri will be in session soon. It was only put on hold so you could recover. Seeing as you are alive and capable, that session will begin in the coming days, I think. You must be present for that session, Lychin.”
I was flabbergasted. “They’re all dead, Jahu. We killed them. Who exactly am I supposed to be meeting with?”
Patiently, she continued, “There are six seats occupied right now. Elder Statesman Saphodine is the current head, but she will defer to you if you so desire.”
“No, that’s fine. She should lead it. I have enough to worry about.”
“Lord Icer thought it best to keep the number at six. He does not want a large council.”
“Neither do I. Who are the other members?”
“I still have a seat. Statesman Eldrin Farneth has retained his as well. Lord Icer granted Meiquano a seat for his loyalty. And he also appointed Spicemaster Calansi. Saphodine is with you, as am I, Lychin. I am less certain about the loyalty of the others. Yet, Lord Icer did appoint Calansi and Meiquano himself, so perhaps we should trust them.”
I didn’t feel entirely intact. My body felt so heavy, but it wasn’t exactly painful either. “Trust no one. Not me, not Saphodine. No one.”
“Regardless,” she continued, “are you ready to call the council into session, governor?”
“We’ll convene once I return from Lipanto.”
“Lychin–”
“Save your breath. You won’t convince me to stay. I won’t be gone long.” I got out of bed, looking for my armor. I only realized as I found my footing that my head was killing me. “You’ll remain here to train new officers for our defense fleet, I assume?”
She too got up, returning to the sun-painted balustrade. “That’s correct, sir. Is there anything you require of me?”
“No. I have my own transport vessel.” There was an awkward tension building in the air. I knew she wanted to say something, but it didn’t matter. There was no way I wasn’t going to Lipanto. Icer himself would have to appear and throw me back in that cell if he wanted me to stay. And even then I’d go down kicking and screaming. Someone had folded my clothes and armor on an end table across the room. I changed with her back to me. “If Medler shows up, annihilate him. Don’t let him get away.”
“That Jolean bastard won’t show his face… not so long as we retain the fleet. Not to mention the orbital defense turrets will be operational within weeks. We could get by without a fleet, but he wouldn’t be dumb enough to attack us even then. Our turrets would shred his pirate scum before they could get their boots on the ground.”
“Good, good.”
“We’ll discuss this more during the Council, but Icer has approved installing orbital defenses around the core planets–Atjoh, Nyare, Peregari, Viziri, and the like. Hopefully, we’ll be able to build them around all of our planets, eventually. Then fleets won’t be necessary. We won’t have to chase pirates across the damn galaxy anymore.”
I slipped my chest piece over my head, and in that brief moment I closed my eyes, I could feel my forehead throbbing, as if a deep fissure had been pressed into my skull from the base of my nose to my hairline. But that couldn’t be. Had I really hallucinated everything? Had there actually been a guard left to watch over me? Regaining my composure silently, I clasped my indigo cape to my armor and cleared my throat. “Well then, Admiral, Faeri is yours until I return.”
Twisting in the light, she bit her lip. “There’s one other thing, Lychin. Lord Icer told me to leave this to you… if you’re going to Lipanto, I think you need to deal with this first.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Bael’s family–his wife and three daughters. Lord Icer spared them, but only temporarily. He’s left their fate in your hands.” Her purple eyes found mine, and I shivered without warning. “Are you going to execute them, governor?”
“Where are they being held?” I asked flatly.
“In an apartment downtown. I’ll give you the address.”
“I’ll stop by on my way out. Guards at the door?”
“Aye.”
I groaned, pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want to deal with this right now. Lipanto was calling. Polaria was calling. I needed to see her. I would see her again. “Were they involved in the plot?”
“No. His daughters are only girls, Lychin.”
“I know. I know.”
Half of Mithlon lay in ruin. I could not see it from the window. That only made its presence tug and gnaw at the corners of my mind, the destruction and horror building up in my imagination like a volcano ready to explode. I blinked rapidly, spun on my heels, and walked out the door. I was the military governor of Faeri. The future of Bael’s bloodline was in my hands. The vacuum that man had left with his death… I knew I could never step from the shade of his shadow. None of us could. Had it really been a brain hemorrhage? Somehow, that didn’t seem right. Too easy. Too convenient. That old bastard deserved a far worse end in my estimation.
But what did it matter? He was dead, his doctor fled, and we who had survived had to find a way to move on.
Lady Marmela threw herself at my feet the moment I entered the cramped, sweltering room she and her daughters were being kept in. “My lord, please…! Mercy! Please, we had nothing to do with Bael’s treachery! Lychin… You know me… you know I’d never do such a thing!” She dabbed at her wet eyes with a gold-bordered handkerchief with cobalt isaki flowers sewn into the face. What a poor lady.
I knew her vaguely, and realized with a throbbing start that I had never spoken to her one-on-one in my life. She had always been riding on Bael’s arm, saying little, laughing loudly. Her bright smile was gone now. She wore only a simple indigo-and-cyan nightgown, indicating that she had been taken in the dead of night, likely still asleep when they came for her, and posted in this room. Yet there were no energy barriers holding them back like caged animals, no stone floor they were forced to sit on, no stink of mold, no energy collars, no itchy, unwashed prison garb for them to wear. And I highly doubted the guards had fed these four the watery soup I had been forced to endure for weeks on end. Why Icer had not executed Marmela himself, I did not know. Perhaps even he detested the feeling of murdering innocent women.
I didn’t believe it. This was a test I was not in the mood for playing.
Her daughters were named Atoka, Huila, and Imbe, the guards outside had told me. The twins Atoka and Huila were almost ten. Imbe was seventeen. It was rare for babies of my species to be born alone. Twins were most common, though triplets and quadruplets were not unheard of. Perhaps she had been born a twin, but the only survivor of that birth. So too was that reality a common one, sadly. It was true of myself.
There was something deeply ironic about the fact that Bael had fathered only girls. After Atoka and Huila had been born, Marmela had been deemed too weak to bear any more children. Such talk was common gossip in the noble class. Everyone knew that she was barren now, that Bael would never produce a male heir.
And here they were before me, the four of them, sulking in a single room, stiflingly humid. The lack of air conditioning was appalling. Maybe they were being mistreated.
“Has anyone told you the news of your husband, my lady?”
She nodded fearfully. “He was a proud man, Lychin. Please, you have to understand. All he cared about was his image–the way people saw him, thought of him, praised him. That’s why he did it. You know that, Lychin. Please, don’t harm the girls. They knew nothing. They’re innocent, good girls! If you must have blood for my husband’s treason, take me instead! Please… I never wanted him to kill the boy. Had I known, I would have tried to stop him. He didn’t tell us. We didn’t know, Lychin. We didn’t. I swear! Please!”
She was an enigma, but not an interesting one. Was this an act? Perhaps not. Marmela was a mother after all, fearful of the fate of her children. Any mother would act this way, say the things she was saying–whether they were lies or not. She held neither political nor martial power, so of course she wasn’t responsible for what had happened. That was not to say that she wasn’t sympathetic to Bael’s actions.
“On your feet, my lady.” Her girls were huddled behind her on the bed, looking up at me with fearful orange eyes. They had their mother’s eyes, the three of them.
“Lychin… please…” She put her hand on my chest. I did not recoil. Groggy though I was, I knew there was nothing to fear. I was feeling light again. “Let the girls go at least.”
Her hand brushed across my collarbone. The look in her eyes was helpless, desperate, and resigned. That mixture of emotions disgusted me. “Stop it! Don’t touch me!”
Clumsy as a tavern wench, she recoiled from me. “I-I’m sorry my lord, please… just don’t hurt the girls!”
“Imbe,” I muttered. “Come here.”
The eldest daughter glanced to her sisters in silent panic; her mother ushered her to me quickly, hoping not to rouse my fury once more. Hopping off the bed, she glided over to me, bowing to the floor, pressing her nose to my boots obscenely. “My lord?” Her voice was sweet but uncertain.
“Rise.” Childishly, yet somewhat gracefully, she did. “From this day forward, you are to become my steward. I need you at my side at all times, do you understand me? We will presently be leaving for Lipanto. You will accompany me there. Afterwards, you will join me for the next convening of the Council of Faeri. Do you understand me, girl?”
“Yes, my lord.” Less uncertainty that time. I liked that. She was a fast learner.
Her mother’s eyes were less sure. She didn’t know what to make of this. I didn’t much care. The noblewoman wasn’t in a position to demand anything of me. “Lychin…?”
“I do not believe the crimes of one man should condemn his entire family. You will be allowed to return to your home, once my men have combed through it for anything Bael left behind. If you need financial support, we can discuss such matters when Imbe and I return. We shan’t be gone longer than a week.”
She stood trembling for several moments, saying nothing. “I-I… don’t know what to say, my lord.”
“Nothing needs to be said. Lord Icer let you live, didn’t he? Why would he do that if he planned on executing you? He may be ruthless, but he is not cruel. You and your daughters are guilty of no crimes. However, I will keep a guard posted outside your manse for the foreseeable future. I don’t want some loyalist hooligans to attack you, mistakenly believing that you are your husband’s will incarnate. I will make sure your daughters are protected. Imbe will replace Elder Statesman Saphodine on the Great Council of Faeri when the time is right. Your other daughters are too young to steward for any politicians quite yet, but we’ll work something out in the future. How does that sound?”
She leapt up and hugged me tight. “Thank you, Lychin! Oh, thank you! You are a noble man! May good fortune shine upon you!”
Her perfume was of summer isaki by the shore–sweet but not entirely ripe. Was this really my test? If it was, then it was a pretty basic one. Was there no more to it than this? Surely Icer had not wished for me to murder an innocent woman and her children. I would not do it even if he commanded me.
Marmela hugged her twins in a moment of pure catharsis. I couldn’t watch. I had to stay detached from this family. Already I had done much for them. “Say goodbye for now,” I commanded Imbe. “We’re leaving.”
“Yes, my lord,” the girl replied. I noticed that that time her enthusiasm faded, but her manners remained sharp, albeit robotic. She was a clever one for sure. Must have gotten that from her father.
Chapter II: Where Hope Goes[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Hail |
| Position: | Supreme Admiral in Icer's Empire |
| Date of account: | March 23, Age 767 (first, second, and third scenes) March 27 - April 1, Age 767 (fourth scene) April 3-4, Age 767 (fifth scene) |
The Faerin looked as if he had swallowed poison when he appeared at the door. The girl by his side was stone-faced, placid, like a doll. Who she was, I didn’t know at the time, and I didn’t care either.
“How is she?”
“Awake.” He would not make eye contact with me. “She desires to see you, Lady Hail.”
My only escape was the sultry emerald skies beyond the hall window. I found myself focusing on my burned hand–the bad one, the one I would never choose to show if I had a choice in the matter. But life is not so simple. We have to react to our circumstances, no matter how desperate they become. That’s all any of us can do. We react the best we can till we no longer can, and by that stage we’re dead, so what does it matter anymore? I was the daughter of the the Emperor of the Planet Trade Organization. I should fear no one. I knew it was not my place to be craven-hearted. I had to be better.
“I heard Father appointed you Governor of Faeri, Lychin,” I whispered. This was trivial. I had nothing truly to say to the man. “This turn of events has suited you well.”
“Hmph. If only that were the truth of the matter. I must be leaving soon, my lady. My apologies. The next Great Council of Faeri will soon be called to session, and I cannot miss it. She wants to see you. Regardless, I must take my leave, Lady Hail.”
He was a fidgety Faerin, appearing to my eyes older and older by the day. I had never much liked Lychin. Why had my sister chosen to latch herself to this husk of a man? He was weary and grey, an old politician without the decency to pretend he cared about what happened to his constituents.
We should have destroyed Faeri and all those damn money-grubbing elfin bastards along with it. I despised Avalan more than most, but so what? He was my brother, and they had dared to disobey us. They had dared to provoke us. Why had my father been so weak in his response to Bael’s treachery? I cannot fathom it. It was exactly what they had hoped for. I knew now they would return to the shadows and bide their time, feigning loyalty for years if necessary, waiting to strike at the next opportune moment. If I were empress, Faeri would have already become a faint memory, a graveyard of dust and rocks and ruin that not even pirates would care to pick over like the vultures they were.
Polaria and I had been born twins. How was it that she had turned out so different? How was it that we were as dissimilar as Sobren and Uttovelm? Was this but a cruel joke? There was no reality in which I could have ended up as she had. Lychin of all people. His figure sickened me to my bones. And now he had a young girl following him around, so loyal and proper. Was she his consort? I wouldn’t put it past a man like that. How could she be so stupid? She had always lagged behind me as a child. I remembered during our water dancing training how she had taken so long to master the most basic of forms. Even then I had been embarrassed for her.
“Go on then.”
He bristled, but nevertheless said nothing else to me. The man fled like the pushover he was, disappearing around the corner with his underage lover hot on his heels. Good riddance. I didn’t need him here. The thought of that old fool going down on my sister made me queasy. She was a girl of poor tastes, I thought. But even she did not deserve this fate.
My uncle was dead. We had won. Why did this feel so unreal? I looked down at my fingers. This was not me. I was not here. This body was not mine. I was a spectator, a spectre, a shadow. I was not here. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t ready to face her. My thoughts went to Incyse, the last of my handmaidens. They had been left with Polaria that day. Every one of them had burned in the death throes of Mal Vexus–every one of them except for Incyse, my innocent Arcosian jewel.
My mind lingered on the last of my handmaidens. She was slim, neither toned nor weak. Her body was veritably that of a woman’s. My stomach twisted pleasantly thinking of her. How I wished to have her then. A woman’s body was what I needed.
Indulging my lust in a time like this was selfish of me. I was such a girl–such a child! My sense of duty quelled my desires to the best of its ability. The attempt was, as I had learned over the years, never going to be wholly successful, however. She was lithe and pale and barely matured. I swallowed, trying to clear my mind.
“There you are, Hail.”
A listless world was Lipanto–a world in hibernation, a world persisting without motion. The palace stone walls, dark and bare, were the greatest mockery of all. One would not have known this was the home of the most powerful family in the universe by looking at it. What my father valued in this world, I could not understand. He was like Polaria in that way–both so foolish and aesthetically immature.
I knew not what to say; the air was tainted with awkwardness. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”
My sister was sitting up on the end of her bed, staring at her new hand. Black metal alloy covered most of her body now. She hardly looked as she once had, save for her face, but even that was twisted and burnt. Her eyes were puffed up, and her head jewel, once the most delicate shade of yellow, had been removed and replaced by unreflective metal.
“Bring me a mirror. A tall one.”
The last of my handmaidens did the honors herself. Polaria stood, silently looking over her new body. Vapid as an icicle, she never blinked.
“You’re lucky, Polaria. Really. You’re alive, you’re able to stand again… you’re whole again. Just think of this as an upgrade, sis. You’ll be much more powerful with those cybernetic enhancements. You’ll lead our father’s forces on the battlefields again soon.”
“Father was here earlier. He told me…” She looked away from the mirror, shaking her head. “Well, I know what happened.”
The walls were black; windowless, unadorned, without any furniture but the bed, a table, and three chairs, this was a prison cell. And all that artificial light floating down from above… it was nothing like snow, but I felt a chill. “He didn’t deserve that. He may have been a twat, but he was our brother.”
“Bael got off too easy. That’s so typical, isn’t it?” She was flexing her new fingers, her arm raised awkwardly, unnaturally. There was no life in it. And yet her fingers danced like popping sparks. “The worst ones die in their sleep while we have to continue suffering.”
Her hand curled into a fist. Despair rippled across her lips. “How bad’s your pain? Do you need me to get you anything?”
“Nothing.”
My hand found her shoulder. Touching cold metal, I had to catch my breath, blinking rapidly, thinking of Incyse, of Father, of home, of water dancing in the gardens with my sister as girls, sunlight warming our smiles. Reality was slipping; I held. “Polaria… it’s okay. I’m alive, aren’t I? You’re my twin. I know you can survive this. We’re not easily destroyed, now are we?”
“Your handmaidens… the officers… the ships… it’s all my fault. I didn’t listen to Daddy. I was too damn slow! I let them die. It’s my fault. I didn’t deserve to live.” Her eyes brimming with tears, she collapsed on the bed, leaving me alone to gaze down at her uncomfortably. “It wasn’t Mal Vexus, Hail. When we were leaving, h-he… It was Sta Fu… he poisoned my tea… murdered your girls and everyone else before my eyes… and I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t save them.”
My fingers were twitching. I couldn’t even make fists. I had to sit down. I was going to be sick. I didn’t want to think about Nimbi and Kurai and the others. It wasn’t fair. Their beauty snuffed out, and for what? “Sta Fu…? Zashisaro murdered him along with the rest of Uncle Cold’s prisoners, didn’t he? How could he have survived? Are you sure it was him?”
She stood up again in exasperation, her hands on her head. I noticed she never once looked in the mirror. “I’ll never forget his face, sis. Don’t doubt me, please. He would have killed me if not for the hy-hypernova. I don’t know how he found me or why he did it. He was rambling, and I can hardly remember it anymore…”
“Don’t blame yourself,” I said, deepening my voice. “You couldn’t have expected that, Polaria. That’s outrageous. What could you have done? Even if you had outsped the explosion… he was on the bridge?”
“Hiding in plain sight. I should have spotted him sooner. We met him at Uncle Cold’s feast all those years ago… remember it, Hail? He was thrown in the dungeon for making fun of that old drunkard. Glacial and Frost and Frieza and Cooler… everyone was there. That feels like an eternity ago now.”
“He had to have been working alone if he confronted you himself. But now he’s dead, and they are too, and there’s nothing any of us can do to change that, sis. Don’t be taken by the past. Come now, I know you’re better than that.”
Nodding, Polaria whispered, “I’m so tired.”
“Please rest. Take as long as you need. Don’t feel pressured to come back too soon, okay? We have the best doctors in the universe here to help. You’re going to be alright. You sure you don’t need anything?”
“No.”
“Alright. I’ll be back when you’re feeling better. Don’t sleep too long now, okay? You don’t want to end up getting sucked into your dreams.” She scoffed. “What?”
“It’s just… we’re Daddy’s little monsters, Hail. All of us. Even Avalan.”
I bristled. A flood of memories returned to me like a vat of water being dumped onto the floor: of him sneering at me, lobbing food at me during family feasts, mocking me after I was burned, his relentless, inane banter, making snide comments to the Blue Queen, and oh how I could have left him to die, and how I wanted to after he looked up at me in revulsion… yet a foul taste remained in my mouth. “He was our brother, Pola–”
“I don’t mean how he looked. You and I have been maimed, but he was far worse off. He was like that from birth. Never had one moment where people didn’t see him as a disgusting creature. It’s heartbreaking. I’ve always thought it was. It wasn’t his fault. I think it hardened him. Made him the way he was. If only he had been born like us… normal, happy, loved…”
“We’ll see him again if there’s an afterlife. Don’t lose hope.”
“There is none. We get one shot, Hail. This is it. Uncle Cold, Uncle Arcterial, Frieza, Cooler, Nitro, Glacial, Frost… they all got one shot too. And now they’re gone. Everyone goes away eventually. What’s the point?” she sniffled.
“Daddy won. This is our empire now. We can do with it what we wish. We’ll kill everyone who stands in our way, and then there won’t be anything or anyone left to fear or hate. Daddy is the strongest warrior in the universe. We are safe.”
My twin returned to bed, entombing herself in her fire-orange Atjohnian space lynx fur blanket. “Maybe we are, but I would rather be whole than safe. I know you feel the same. What does it matter if we won if we’re broken?”
We said our goodnights. I closed the door behind me, soft as a shadow, finding Incyse waiting for me in the unlit hall. Neither guards nor officers were around. It was just the two of us. I could always look back on these moments afterwards and analyze them with a logical eye. But in the heat of the moment, I was no less swept by passion, by nature, by biological desire, than a drunkard or an addict.
And that was why, I thought at the time, she was wrong. It was not Avalan who had had it worst, nor even my sister. She had Lychin; the boy had had to hire whores, true, but he had gotten what he had wanted whenever he had wanted it due to our family’s riches. There was no shame in their lust. They were normal.
Polaria would soon return to combat-ready status. Her cybernetic enhancements were not really part of her, but what did that matter? I suppose it was true that I too could have gotten such attachments, but that would require them to amputate almost all of me. I could be powerful again, yes, but I wouldn’t feel anything anymore. Was that really such a bad thing?, I wondered, as my eyes returned to the slender Arcosian girl, looking her over like she was a sliver of hard candy unwrapping itself before my eyes. Her aroma of honey, neither overpowering nor weak, was enough to tempt me onward.
Saldari’s Puhsa Tnia’ii claimed it had persisted for more than a thousand years, outlasting the Lipantan Republic, the Empire of the Golden Monkey, and my father’s annexation of this world. I could believe that like I could a Faerin’s promises in bed.
We went for a drink, Incyse and I, to get away from the palace. I felt like I could finally breathe again when we stepped inside. Even as little as ten years ago, pirates could be found here. But once Daddy started taking a more active role in managing his empire from this planet, the customers of this place, along with everywhere else on Lipanto, were reduced to bored off-duty officers and soldiers. It wasn’t as violent and imposing as it once had been. But there was no shortage of drunk men guffawing together, making lewd comments about the female soldiers, playing knife and dart games, wasting their money on sniraak. It was always the same.
“Gin,” I told the bartender. “Nyarin… uh, Maulxe flavor,” I said slowly, glancing up at the menu. There was no reason I had picked the most expensive flavor. No good reason, at least. All alcohol has the same effect once it’s inside one’s belly. Doesn’t matter what it tastes like going in. But if that were really true, I would have bought us a couple bottles of Uu’goc and been done with it. “Four shots.”
They all knew who I was, obviously. The cantankerous bar noise had died down; none of them would approach us. They feared me, even burned. Rightly so. Some months back, a drunken officer had thrown a dart into my back accidentally. His head had been soon parted with his body. I had not been so much as spoken to by any patron since. That was fine by me. They were low-level scoundrels, mostly. Nobody I desired to waste time with. I wondered vaguely what Daddy would think if I brought one of these men home as my new lover. Somehow I didn’t think he’d appreciate it much. Polaria had Lychin. I needed to wed someone equally as important. I wondered too what would happen if I brought Incyse back home. Father didn’t know–at least I don’t think did–yet some part of me, some dark and twisted part of me, wondered what he’d say.
I took my shot, and she took hers. How pretty she looked downing the glass, scrunching up her face, clutching the shot glass in a way that was too cute for words. What was wrong with me? I took the second, and she followed me. Her eyes were green like Kuriza’s, so bright and big and bursting with love.
The taste was hard and dry, like metal, but sweet enough so that I wouldn’t gag. “Two more.”
“M-my lady… I’m, I’m not as experienced as you in these matters… I may not be able to hold another one.”
Feeling my face smile, I sighed as the heat raced through my veins. This was a nice feeling. I could relax and let go. Polaria became a distant shadow in my mind. We took our shots, the girl swaying on her floating stool, everything rushing and slowing in my vision like I was in a vortex.
“A bottle for the road,” I commanded the bartender, and he returned at once. “No, make that two.”
“Aye, my lady.”
I paid and we set off towards the door. A pair of Brench were huddled over steaming cups of tea giggling at us when we walked by. Ignoring them, I put my hand on the door. My girl held the bottles; I nuzzled my head against her neck, feeling good.
That was when the orange-faced Brench slurred, “Taaaakin’ ‘er backta bed… m’laaaaady?!”
His compatriot giggled, downing the rest of his drink, his narrow skull bobbing from side to side.
For a second, half the bar stopped to stare at us in stunned silence. My patience had slipped. “That’s right, little orange boy,” I replied, “but I’ll be the only one of us getting the girl tonight, I think. You two couldn’t pull an alley whore if you spent all night trying.”
Fizzing crimson Death Beams flew from my fingertips, hitting one in the cheek, the other in the belly. They fell screaming, shattering their glasses and flipping the table as everyone gawked at us. The bartender had gone white. As the men bled out on the floor, I pulled out a few coins to pay for the damages, tossing them to the counter. Then with my tail up, I led my handmaiden out.
She said nothing on the journey home, though she was not particularly good at flying either. Maybe that’s what she was concentrating on. We returned to my chambers before the alcohol had worn off, and I poured each of us another shot before locking the door behind me.
Her aroma perforated the room. I looked over the painting of our Chillrose Estate back on Arcose as I took my shot. How I wanted to go back there. I poured us each another.
“My lady, is this wise?”
She had grown bolder since I had first been introduced to her all those years ago. Her beauty, however, had not faded with time. Arcosians, in general, are either male or female. The distinction between the sexes is not as pronounced as in some other species, such as the Zar-Degar, yet it is not difficult to tell if one is male or female just by looking at them. Incyse was slender, pale-skinned; her curvy body and small breasts lent no doubt to which she was.
However, my family was not like most families. There was a reason we had taken over the universe, and not them. We were mutants, all of us. We produced asexually. My father created my sister and I, and then Avalan. Cold created Cooler, Frieza, and Nitro. That was not to say that we did not appear either male or female, however. We did. My sister and I were female. Avalan, despite his sickly growths, had clearly been deemed a “male” at birth. That was by far the more common of the two for our family, it seemed. Only Frost, my sister, myself, and Raimie were female-looking. I don’t count Yuki because she is a genetic freak.
But this is all to say that what Incyse was to give me, I could not give her back. What Lychin could give to Polaria, my sister could not return entirely. We have ways of hooking up with others; my father kept a paramour named Neiyme that I knew about. He could have more. It’s not uncommon for members of my family to become intimate with members of other species.
I’ll not go into specifics of how my family reproduces. Let’s just say that my father more than I could do to a girl what is expected. Being mutants, certain things were retained in our biology. Others were removed or modified. I still loved her.
Playfully inebriated, I settled on the bed, motioning the girl to come forth. Nimbi had always been my go-to. I had even done this with Kurai a few times. Incyse on the other hand… well, this would be our first time. I desperately missed my other handmaidens.
“Come here.”
“O-on the bed with you, my lady?”
My flush was spreading beyond my control. The room’s grey-blue walls were swirling, the paintings hung around the room mixing into rainbow whirlpools and multiplying every time I moved my eyes. “I know Nimbi instructed you about this. I told her to. She said she did. Was that a lie?”
The girl rubbed her elbow, looking away from me. Her face drooping, she was almost as drunk as me. “It was not, my lady.”
“Get on the bed, Incyse. I don’t have all day.”
“Why did you kill those men, my lady? I-I-I meeaaan, why not imprison them for a while, or fine them, or…?”
“Strength devours fear,” I replied. “No one will mock me, nor will they mock you. They were. Weren’t you listening, my sweet girl? They dishonored us both.”
“I see.”
“Get on the bed.”
Now she was worried. “B-but… my lady… I think, think I’m going to be s–”
Teleporting behind her, I spun around, wrapping my tail around her neck and throwing her on the bed in one motion. The bed was my world, our world, all that mattered. My chest pressed against hers as I slid lower and lower. She struggled, fear in her eyes, slapping my side softly, asking me to stop. Only when my lips found a sensitive spot did I loosen my grip.
Breathing hard and hoarse, the girl arched her back as my tongue flicked against her breast. My lips found her nipple, warming it with their wet embrace. The girl sighed. I wasn’t sure she was faking it. Nimbi and Kurai had faked it for a while. Still, they had not forever been able to pretend they didn’t like it. Neither would this one.
My hand was around her shoulder, rubbing her sweetly, my sweet honey princess. I was lost in our movements. My mind was numb, humming, an urgent rushing feeling pulsing in my chest, just below my throat. That was the moment my scouter lit up from a call.
At first I didn’t recognize it, my intoxication being too deep, so she had to point and, in breathless whimpers, get my attention. The eye-piece was glowing purple on the nightstand. Sighing in annoyance, I whispered, “I’ll get it later.”
“But my lady, look!” Her eyes were shining unwaveringly emerald in the near darkness, opposed to the artificial purple blinking of my device. “It’s your father.”
“So what?”
I went back to what I was doing. The light faded. Her eyes, which had been so hopeful, now cast a tired look down at me. I despised this part of it. When would she realize I was here to make her feel good? Nimbi took three times to get to that point; Kurai took just two. Surely Incyse couldn’t take much longer…
“He’s calling back, my lady. I think you should get it.” She sat up, drunkenly pulling away from me, falling against the pillows as she reached for the scouter.
Mumbling to myself, I licked my lips, glancing at the mostly-filled bottle of gin on the table. My blood was running too hot to stop now. It was pain having to endure the wait. My flesh had warmed; it felt as if it were on fire. “Answer it.”
“Lord Icer, hello!” the girl chuckled. Though her voice remained professional, the way in which she addressed him was certainly careless. She had taken great pains to make sure he couldn’t hear that she was drunk, and yet the words she had chosen could just as easily have betrayed her. Was she not capable of focusing on more than one thing at a time? “I am Incyse, Lady Hail’s handmaiden. What may I do–” She paused, listening, looking over to me as she wore the scouter. I had to admit she looked nice in it. There was a certain absurdity in a non-military person, slender and graceful and courtly, wearing such a device. “I see. Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, my apologies, my lord! I’ll get her at once!”
I didn’t catch the scouter. Luckily it landed on the bed. “What is it?” I whispered to her between bared teeth. I was getting angry now. I didn’t want to put up with any of this shit right now. Why did this have to happen now? Couldn’t whatever my father wanted wait just a little longer?
“He wouldn’t ssssssssaaaaaaay,” she whispered back, her voice high and afraid and at the same time slurring as that Brench’s had. “It’s uuuuuurgent. Cannot waiiiit.” She smiled sheepishly, but that smile vanished in almost the next instant as she jumped off the bed and vomited all over my imported Atjohnian shag rug. That’s just the type of rug you want to get vomit in, after all. Falling to her hands and knees, the girl continued to vomit, moaning like a dying animal between each exhale.
“What’s up?” I jumped up, sprinting to the bathroom and closing the door behind me. “Father?”
“Get down here.” I could hear it in his voice. My heart sank. My blood froze. My fingers twitched. My head cleared. I was drunk, but I wasn’t lost in it anymore. “Your sister’s room.”
“Why?”
“Get down here now. Don’t make me ask you again.”
The call ended. I had never heard grief fill my father’s voice before. It sounded so unlike him, so foreign, that I wasn’t sure I was lucid. But staring into my bathroom window, I saw the slumping, drunken body of a girl who’d once been physically superior to most. Now my body, tattooed by scars, my muscles having been eaten away by disuse, my belly having swelled somewhat, was nothing worth looking at. Shame usually pressed me when I looked upon myself like this, but that was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment. For when I dreamt, I was never in this body, but in the one I had grown up in alongside my sister, dancing and fighting and playing and feeling light and free and powerful in.
This was no dream. Daddy’s tone meant only one thing. I knew it even then, but would not believe it until I saw for myself.
Her room was much as I had left it. The chairs and table had not moved one inch. The walls were as bleak as ever. Only the bed had changed. Like a ribcage torn asunder by a superheated ball of energy, the frame had fallen back, broken and cracked, the mattress and blankets and pillows vaporized, a dark stain being all that remained at the center of where she had only a few hours ago lain.
My memories morphed into something hideous and surreal. The gin didn’t help. I had seen her with my own eyes. We had spoken for a long time. I had tried my best to comfort her, to empathize with her, to make her confident again. I had never gotten so much as an inkling that something was wrong.
Father looked as if he had been forced to stay up for a week and was now being dragged into the sunlight. We didn’t speak for some time.
“Are you sure, Daddy?”
He nodded once, not looking at me. The man’s eyes were focused on the scene of the crime. I couldn’t blame him, but I didn’t have the stomach for it. Collapsing into one of the chairs, I buried my head in my hands. Because I was so drunk, the emotion I felt was more intense, but got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t cry. Guilt followed. Why couldn’t I cry? Was I a sociopath? She was my sister, damn it! I should be able to express some emotion.
Perhaps it was due to my father being in that room with me. It had always been harder around him. But this was unlike anything we had experienced before.
“Did she say anything to you… to anyone… anything at all?”
“Not a word.”
“Damn Arcterial! Damn that lizard!”
My breaths came shallow. My fingers were tingling. All I saw when I closed my eyes was that beautiful girl soiling my rug with torrents of yellow-blue. “She… she… Father, Polaria told me that the hypernova was all that saved her from Sta Fu.”
“Neither one of them should have attacked her!” he roared suddenly. A bright blue ki blast flared in his hand. He threw it into the wall, leaving a crater and a puff of smoke behind. “Bastards, all of them! If only I could kill him again. And Zashisaro… that c*nt disappeared. If he’s not dead, he’ll beg me to kill him before I’m done with him! If he thinks Torlini’s suffering was unbelievable, wait until I show him what an emperor can do!!”
His voice shook. Goosebumps covered my flesh. I wanted to cry. Why couldn’t I? All I felt was this heat, this building feeling that Daddy was lighting with the flames of his fury. Why had she done this to herself? Why had she done this to us?
“Father… there’s nothing we can do. There’s no bringing her back.”
“Do you think of me as a fool?!”
“No sir.”
“Stay here.”
“What…? This room–”
“Lipanto.” He gritted his teeth, marching back to the door, his wine-colored cape billowing behind him. “Hold the planet while I’m gone.”
“Where are you going, Daddy?”
“Faeri. The next Great Council is about to start. I must be present. It’s not a choice. I can’t trust that traitorous lot.”
“B-but…”
“There is no time to wallow in sorrow, Hail! The Ctha’Naka are butchering the eastern territory, Pukcoläsic has raised an army in rebellion against not only Galactrix, but us too. And the Corvos League… I’ve told you about them, haven’t I?! Or have you forgotten already?”
“I remember, Father.”
“We have no time to stop. The Faereth are most likely still plotting a way to assassinate us. They know now they cannot beat us in open combat. I’ll just destroy their planet if they try again. It’s something deeper than that they’re plotting… poison, most likely. I cannot stay. You must hold Lipanto. Do you understand me? Stay here. Keep the soldiers in line. Work with my admirals to come up with a strategy for defeating our foes. I’ll settle for taking out Pukcoläsic and those damn Quglith. Do not go after either of them yourself, do you understand me? Wait for my return.”
“Yes, Father.”
“I don’t know what technique they’re using, or what trick they’re playing, but the Quglith have some kind of weapon that is laying waste to our forces in the east. I can’t guarantee it’s safe for you… just stay here, alright? Pukcoläsic was the Premier League champion for the Galactrix Arena. I’ll need someone more powerful to fight him… Yuki, or Kuriza, perhaps. If I don’t deal with him myself, that is.”
His words burned, but they were not untrue; I felt my face reddening again. “I understand, Father.”
“Do something useful for once, Hail! I shouldn’t have to baby you like this. You’re a grown woman. You’re my Supreme Admiral. I trained you for this. Don’t you dare wallow in grief,” he said, grabbing me by the shoulder. His eyes were livid, but he was not looking at me. His gaze extended over my shoulder, always looking onwards, always looking past me. I gulped bile down my throat. “Begin coordinating the installation of orbital defense platforms on all planets–not just our core worlds. Got it?”
“I understand, Father. Sh-should I tell them about…”
“Not until I get back.”
He was gone before I could reply. It was only after he’d left that I felt the vacuum. It hit me like a full power energy wave. The floor punched my knees; my vision blurred and wavered. Cold as the eye of a storm was that room. I had never been alone before. Polaria had always been there with me. We had come into this world together. We were supposed to leave together.
Her voice came to me as I knelt in ruin: We get one shot, Hail. This is it. Everyone goes away eventually. There were no Arcosian deities in modern times. We’d never believed in any anyways. None except the Destroyer. But he was as mortal as any of us. Uncle Cold had assured us of that. If there really was an afterlife, whatever it was, Polaria and Avalan were together again.
“Get some rest, you two,” I muttered to myself. I wasn’t the superstitious type. But to be rational in this instant would be to cut myself open and rip out all that remained. “I have work still to do. I can’t come home yet. Sorry. You’re just going to have to wait a little longer.”
What did it matter if we won? What was the point of ruling an empire of bones and ash? My head was spinning. This gin was too much. I was a pathetic lightweight. Why was I so weak in so many different ways?
Admiral Ersi, the former rebel, awaited me in the strategy room. Holo-maps, floating chairs, tables of tea and wine and snacks adorned the war room. With the green-skinned Novalisian were Commander Jolen, a chubby Inovian woman, Commander Lanzo, a white-haired Jolea, and Captain Tuchete Chero, a compact, but muscular Tahmier.
“My lady,” Ersi began with a bow, smiling warmly, “greetings. How are you today? Are you ready to begin our task? I believe your father has gone over with you what we’re–”
It burned, this blood inside of me. That was the only reason I knew I was still alive. “My father changed his mind. You four. Gather a fleet of one hundred ships, and be ready to leave in three hours.”
I turned and walked out of the room with haste. As I went, Ersi called out to me again, “My lady…! Please, wait up! Where are we going? What’s happening?”
I stopped. My heartbeat quickened. I would prove him wrong. I would prove everyone wrong. “The Quglith thought that our civil war would be enough of an excuse to rebel. They mock our empire in doing so, and spit upon its image. Do we not have the strength to challenge them? Are we not the dominant force in the universe?!”
They nodded and murmured in agreement, perplexed though they were.
“It’s time we pay them back for all they’ve done to us.”
Lanzo stepped forward, clearing his throat. “My lady, we don’t yet know the strength of their force, nor why they have been able to devastate so many planets in such a short amount of time. Without your father or Prince Kuriza with us… I don’t know that we can safely attack an unknown force like this. It will be an extremely risky campaign, my lady.”
Defiantly, I replied, “You have me. A rebellion is not above my ability to deal with! Do as I say, or I’ll find officers who will.”
Ersi and Jolen exchanged a look. How bold they were to try that in front of me. Once more my fire was burning hot. I was about to explode when the admiral bowed again and swore, in his high-pitched, womanly voice, that my will was their command.
It was farther from Lipanto to Faeri than from Lipanto to the warfront. Lucky me.
Every world we came across was either a smoldering, dying rock, or had already been shattered into a billion fragments. Those parasitic squid-jaws had pillaged and burned every world in their path. Ctha’Naka wasn’t an empire so much as a plague.
“It’s interesting,” Ersi remarked once, as we orbited over what had once been Planet Cooler 299. “They leave us nothing to reclaim. It’s almost as if they expect to be beaten.”
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint them, Admiral.”
It was over the cratered-hull of what had once been Planet Nitro 124 that we found our first signs of rebellion. It was a tiny fleet of thirteen vessels–eleven of them space pods. Chero went out in his space suit to greet them for us. That was mighty kind of him. I watched from the holo-screen, prim and proper, lady-like and no longer the warrior.
The Tahmier returned with a wrinkled snout, his golden eyes burning intensely. “Our men. They were turned.”
We found a second lance over Planet Cooler 313. Captain Chero did the honors a second time, though this time, he brought back a hostage for us to pick the brain of. The man, an elderly space-badger with a spotted brown and orange fur coat, begged us to return him to High Priest Nuktolen. If we did not, he would die. He needed another injection, whatever that meant. He cried and screamed and got violent, and that was when Chero snapped his neck.
“What do you make of that, my lady? What the hell was he screaming about?”
“Serrokin perhaps. Kooli is not beyond a doubt either. We also cannot rule out Nil. Maybe they’ve developed a new way of ingesting it since closing up galactic shop. Who knows what those traitors are up to?”
“I don’t like it, no matter what it is,” Ersi whined. His mouth was drawn back in a scowl. “This reeks of something dangerous.”
Jolen shook her jowls carelessly. “They’re fanatics, what would you expect? Hell, I bet they’ve got our soldiers addicted to some new, potent strain of Nil. That’s the only logical explanation for why they would turn to rebellion!”
“I’m more interested to know why they are so disorganized. Why have small fleets scattered around like this?”
“Forming small strike teams to take out as many planets as possible, most likely. They’re spreading like ravenous beasts, hitting as many worlds as they can before we reign them in.”
“Why would they become suicidal? What do they have to gain from this?”
“No idea. None really. They’re fanatics. They’re crazy! How can we reason with madness? Maybe their tentacle god in the sky told them to do it. Can’t exactly say no to your god, now can you?”
I was pacing before the looking window. Starlight always looked the same to me. It was better to look than to dwell on thoughts, however. “In that case, we need to find where their High Priests are hiding out. Probably Ctaedi, but you never know. They are surely using the majority of their fleet to protect the priests. Run a full scan with the long-range scouters, Jolen. We’ll set out for the highest concentration of power levels in the contested territory. Sound good?”
“Aye,” she replied, bowing.
Before long, Daddy would know what we were doing out here. I just hoped, as we drifted over a dead world, all my pained memories crumbling under the weight of one another, that he would find out what I had done only after I had collected the heads of the Ctha’Naka High Priests and laid them at his feet.
The next series of events happened only yesterday, but I still have difficulty believing.
Per Jolen’s direction, we came to Planet Cooler 202, also known as Mirocus by the native Torrn species. I had been in my bedroom when it had happened. Incyse had been there with me. We were sipping ice wine and discussing our favorite Galactrix Arena gladiators while watching old reruns of the now-defunct leagues. The girl was playing it nice and cool, acting cordial, acting out her part beautifully. In time, I knew, as with Nimbi and Kurai, she would shed the act and live in my world without falsehoods. I hadn’t dared try anything with her again. No, my belly had soured since that night, and kissing her, pretty little ice princess though she was, was not even a spark of a thought in my mind.
It was good to sit and relax, to be amongst friends, to take my mind off war and death and destruction. I needed this. I had not spent much time around the officers. I’m sure Daddy would not approve. Even now I can hear his voice, quiet and deliberate, commanding me to gain rapport with them, to go over strategies with them, to discuss all that is happening so that I will never be surprised, so that I will never be taken unaware by foes, and so that I will be able to react instantaneously and decisively. Yadda yadda yadda.
He could be such a bore. But in this instance, it would have been right of me to have heeded his caution.
For the previous two planets, Chero had gone out in a space suit to destroy the tiny fleets himself. This time, however, being that there was a fleet almost thirty ships strong with an estimated total crew of over five thousand, they decided to go at it differently. Indeed, we had arrived as the Siege of Mirocus had only just begun. The planet could be saved. Ersi called me to the bridge to debrief me.
I brought her along. I doubt any of them knew who she was to me. Incyse was my handmaiden. She was meant to go where I went. There was nothing atypical about that. The bridge was a sterile place, a cold place, a room of chirping bright monitors, of soldiers sitting nervous and focused in rows of chairs, not a painting to be found on the walls, not a shag rug to be found on the floor.
I was bitterly reminded of the past in negative.
“Status report, Ersi.”
“The rebel ships are moving towards the planet. I assume they’ll be unloading troops to sweep it of all resources before glassing it from space.”
“You must stop them immediately, Admiral.” I had had two or three glasses of ice wine. Who can keep track of such trivialities anyways? Three glasses was not as much as I could hold, but it was probably too much for this maneuver. Daddy had never taught me fleet strategy assuming I’d be drunk while in command. Incyse giggled at my side. I had them bring her a chair to place next to my captain’s seat. She had brought her glass of purple liquid with her. What a brazen girl she could be sometimes. “Chero, you have command of the army.”
“Shall we meet them in space or on the surface, my lady?”
“In space, Captain. Take everyone. Those power level readings were… unnaturally high. I wouldn’t have thought there were such powerful Quglith anywhere, but it appears to be our reality, and we must deal with it. Don’t do anything rash out there.”
“Aye, my lady.”
And so he left, and so the battle began. Lanzo kept me updated. At first, it was a simple affair. I barely paid attention. The girl and I continued our idle chatter. There was nothing to fear. My force outnumbered this one at least five to one. Led by Captain Chero, they would surely be the more disciplined side. I had our ships surround the Ctha’Naka force, putting the flagship and its protectors between the planet and our enemies. There was nothing especially complex needed of me. Chero just needed to do his job. It was simple, really… elementary, one could say.
And then the fireworks began.
It was soundless from where we watched. The light enveloped Chero and his men, blooming outwards, enshrouding our ships, vaporizing most of them in a heartbeat. Our ship was hit hard by the blast; the looking window cracked; power went out, and the back-up generators came online. The bridge was bathed in low red light.
I stood, feeling tension and surprise mixing to form an intoxicating emotion. “What… what was that?”
“An explosion, my lady.”
“Of course it was, you fool! But from where?! What was the source?! Get Chero’s line. Now!”
The light was just beginning to dim when it burst again, like a big white balloon that had exploded. We could physically see the ripples spreading through space, racing towards the ships. There was no time to run. Again we were hit; more cracks formed in the window. Smaller vessels around us burned and vanished.
I grabbed my scouter, looking down at the girl with fear in her eyes. “Chero! Chero?! Are you there? Chero?! Come in!”
“We have hull leaks on decks five through seven, Admiral,” Lanzo said calmly. “Damage to the generators is spreading. There’s a fire spreading…”
“Fuel leakage on the starboard side as well,” Jolen added solemnly. “This ship’s finished, Admiral. We won’t get far.”
“Chero?!”
Ersi stood gravely before the cracked looking window, his arms folded behind his back. “Abandon ship. Everyone, get suited up. We’re going planet-side. That’s an order–”
The third pulse rang out without sound through space, tearing our ship apart. I watched in horror as Jolen’s eyes oozed out of her thick skull, her scream being sucked away along with the rest of the air, her body spinning end over end. Lanzo grabbed his neck, but he was dead before he could feel it. His face sizzled and burned blue and black and white, blisters forming across his chin and under his eyes as his body, unaccustomed to such harshness, touched the void for the very first time.
I did not see Ersi go. As the ship tore itself apart in the rippling energy, he was hit aside by a falling monitor, and that was that.
The girl and I were all that remained. Floating bodies surrounded us. Ice wine, like congealed blood, dribbled slowly out of her glass, which was spinning acutely towards the planet. She placed her hand on my shoulder, and I shivered. All this metal and all these bodies were little more than garbage in an ocean too deep to escape from. Mouthing ‘run’, she spun and flew towards the surface, and I followed.
Whatever had been back there, I still do not know what it was, nor do I have any guesses as to what it could be aside from an absurdly powerful Quglith. But that doesn’t make sense. No Quglith has ever had a power level even at 50,000. These pulses were six times as powerful if not more. My scouter can’t get a clear reading on numbers so high.
It’s been almost a day since we were marooned on Mirocus. The fighting between the outpost’s defenders and the Ctha’Naka destroyed the space pod hangar bays. And those pulses of energy had also crippled most of the remaining ships. One good thing was that the Ctha’Naka soldiers had been burned up by it too, so the fighting was over with… perhaps. I can hope. I will hope. My scouter’s still picking up huge readings not far from here. I think they’re set up on one of the moons. Who knows? I don’t want to speculate too rashly right now.
I sent a message to Faeri as soon as we landed. Daddy will be so displeased. I hope he’s not too mad when he gets here. I hope he can get here in time, but I know it’s not likely. I was just trying to help, to do my duty. But now it’s looking more and more likely that I’ll be reunited with my siblings before Daddy can save us.
Chapter III: Absolution[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Glacial |
| Position: | Thrall of Ctha'nhalath |
| Date of account: | April 3-4, Age 767 (first scene) April 11, Age 767 (second and third scenes) |
I waited too long for them to make their move. Two fleets were lost. I should have saved them. If I had been quicker, maybe I could have. Ultimately, however, we got back much more than we lost during the Siege of Mirocus.
Expecting either Prince Kuriza or the hybrid monstrocity Yuki, I was surprised to be faced with Hail of all people. Of the Planet Trade Organization’s illegitimate royal family, I knew I could only defeat Hail and Polaria with my raw strength. The rest required something special. They would all die, one way or another, Ctha’nhalath willing. I was his scion. I was Nyuktali. I was here to save the Quglith. I feared none of them. But to send the weakest Arcosian against me was just asking for it.
Cthka was my form. It held me. I was patient. They struck two decoy fleets first. Hail’s force moved faster than I had anticipated. They burned the decoy fleets before I could get there to set the trap against her. That was no matter. I had waited patiently for them to come to me. Was it my fault that Kuriza and Yuki had been utterly useless cowards? No. I was the Scion of Ctha’nhalath. I would not suffer their vanity.
Too patient was I. They snacked on bait more than once. I was there for the third attempt. When the opportunity presented itself, I did not let it get away. I struck with the force of an alpha predator, taking Hail’s pitiful crew unaware, killing thousands in seconds.
The soldiers I used as bait had been absolved of their heresy. They were loyal and good. To be disloyal was to die. But it did not matter if they were lost in combat. I, Nyuktali, was the Scion of Ctha’nhalath. The rest were meat for the war machine. I used them accordingly, as my masters had instructed. I would not fail. I had to succeed–my people were counting on me.
It was odd that they sent Hail to me, for even when I had been part of that family, I had been stronger than her. She’s a girl, after all.
The size of her fleet surprised me. They didn’t expect me to be leading this. They thought it was a bunch of zealous Quglith rampaging through the eastern empire. There were no Quglith who would make Hail sweat in combat, even marred as she was. There were no soldiers in the empire whom her bodyguards should fear. They all thought me dead.
At Mirocus, they caught my band of slaves assaulting the planet. Dozens of ships, brimming with battle-ready teams, awaited my bait. We pulled back from the planet’s devastated surface to face them. Then, they unleashed the hordes. It was as I expected. Captain Tuchete Chero led the force against me.
I drew them to me. Only when he and his men began swarming over my soldiers did I release the first pulse of Nyali. My energy was purifying; it tore through their suits, popping gas–oxygen, nitrogen, helium, fluorine and the like–into the void, like spilling ice wine on a fine cape. They sputtered and detonated, screaming noiselessly, as I emerged from the ship I had been hiding in near the back of the fleet.
The vessels too were decimated by my technique. Hail’s fleet had surrounded us. That was their mistake. A second pulse radiated outward as I closed my eyes, focusing my thoughts, exhaling through my fingertips. It took a quarter of my energy to summon an energy wave of this magnitude.
Though I did not yet know his name, Captain Chero had disappeared with the rest. In fact, all of them were wiped out by that second blast–all except for Hail’s ship. Drifting aimlessly, its lights blinking erratically as if it had been concussed, the saucer leaked air, its life-support systems critically damaged. That wouldn’t matter for the admiral, but her crew…
One more Nyali was all it took. The ship tore itself apart, the metal burning and twisting, leaking out fresh bodies and cargo as vomit.
Ctha’Nuktolen had taught me a method to sense energy, but I was not adept at using it yet. I could only sense a vague reading (no numbers as with scouters) so long as I closed my eyes, blocked out the distractions of waking life, and focused in a particular direction. For that reason, using this ability during battle would be almost impossible, and foolhardy to say the least.
But here, with a hundred ships destroyed, thousands killed in a matter of seconds, I was able to detach myself from the carnage and bloodshed, close my eyes, and focus. I was the Scion of Ctha’nhalath. I would not fail in my mission.
As I had expected, she fled to the planet. We were both alone now. The Mirocian outpost had been partially destroyed by our assault. The soldiers remaining on-planet should have numbered no more than a few hundred–nothing I couldn’t handle.
The Torrn populated their entire planet, though much of it was covered in ruins from wars of ages past. Cooler conquered Mirocus before I was born. In terms of outposts, and soldiers who could protect Hail, there was only the half-ruined capital.
I decided not to pursue at once. We had already destroyed the space pod bays, and the fleet protecting Mirocus had likewise been reduced to space junk. She had no way to escape me. And after three Nyali pulses, I was absolutely knackered.
Returning to the station on the moon Narelus, which my soldiers had already conquered for me, I reported back to Ctha’Nakki, Head Priest of our Ctha’Naka, on my progress. He was most pleased with the developments and instructed me to return her body to Ctaedi as an offering to the Deep One. I could not refuse such a humble request.
I rested, meditated, and drank only water. I did not wish to be slowed down in what was to come. A day passed. I smoked a stick of Nugahl Djio-Nil. With Minister’s Fire producing in me that killer headrush I craved, I was ready to go. Today would bring about the start of something big. What I did today would provoke Icer, Kuriza, Yuki, and the rest. They would soon learn that the Ctha’Naka was not to be trifled with. We were no petty insurrection. We were the next universal empire–the new empire. The Planet Trade Organization was wounded and sick and needed to be put down. We would do so.
With concentration, I found her hiding in the city of Galein. Ravaged by our assault, Galein was pock-marked by skyfire, its stone buildings cracked and collapsed. Even the sturdier Planet Trade Organization buildings were mostly leveled. Bodies lined the streets–I noticed some of my own amongst the dead. The city was quiet, awaiting its fate. Shame the girl was not so compliant. This could have been a lot easier.
She had called up all remaining soldiers from across the planet, no doubt. Before the capital building were arranged rows and rows of them. Perhaps there were three thousand of them; they were lined up neatly, flaunting their discipline. I was reminded of the bitter frosts of Planet Frieza 068, of a foolish, vainglorious boy, of a portal opening overhead, leading me to salvation. Those times were in the past. My past was not my future. I was Nyuktali, and these damn alien soldiers were standing in my way.
At their head was Governor Ryboa, a bearish-looking Faerin. Most of the governors in this decaying empire were. He had grown three chins, and stared back at me with the brightest purple eyes I had ever seen. His armor was golden and silver, shining in the morning light like he was a tin can. His soldiers had his back, though not every alien wore armor. Given the suddenness with which we had appeared and begun our siege, I can’t blame them. They were staring me down when I reached the capital, the governor being the only man willing to break the calm.
Walking towards me, an ornate gloved gauntlet raised, Ryboa said, “Glacial?! Glacial, is that you? What are you doing here?”
“I am Nyuktali, Scion of Ctha’nhalath, and you’re standing in my way, good sir. Step aside, let me through, and after I’ve secured the admiral, I’ll let you and your soldiers join our glorious Ctha’Naka. What say you, old man?”
He was bald, except for wispy white strands above his ears, dangling like spilled intestines. “So this is your doing, eh? Tell me, traitor, how did you control them? The men you sent against us. They were ours… loyal to Emperor Icer. What lies did you tell them to make them forsake their duty?”
“No lies,” I replied, taking another step through the shattered cobbled street until I was less than three meters away from him, “only the truth that Yhun brings.”
“Yhun? What’s that?”
“I’ve said too much,” I smiled. “Do you want to feel its power? Or would you rather feel nothing at all?”
The elfin man snorted. “Another drug, eh? More potent than Nil, is it?”
“You’re a smart man, governor. Tell me, would you rather you and your men die right here, right now, or would you like–all of you–to taste truth?”
“Soldiers, aim!” the man barked.
I exhaled, my mind empty and clear. So be it. They would die. Disloyal animals. The ranks of aliens raised their hands or blasters at me, energy of a dozen different colors flickering into existence with sharp buzzing noises.
I felt a shiver of excitement. I should not be excited. I must remain detached, focused on my objective. Swallowing, I cleared the sensations from my brain with some effort. “The High Priests of the Eternal Ctha’Naka have forced me to train everyday. This is why.”
With a shout, I spread my arms out, lurching forward, my arms coated in a mist of white energy. This was Nuloté. The Faerin hardly had a chance to scream as I wrapped my fingers around his throat and watched his body light up, his eyes sparkling like amethysts before rupturing. By the time I had dropped him, the rest had released their attacks. Not one of them commanded a power level over 3000. It didn’t matter that there were 3000 of them. Such things weren’t prone to being multiplicative. I needed only to focus, to dodge the first salvo of their angry energy by spinning on my heels, flipping into the air, and releasing a pulse of Nyali.
The white-hot energy burned them to dust. It decimated Galein, too. Every building that had weathered the storm of yesterday’s battle came crumbling down–even the capital. And indeed, immediately thereafter, amongst the wreckage and dust and smoke and ash that clung to my tongue and made my eyes lethargic, I found her.
“G-glacial…”
I’ll never forget the shock and resignation in her voice. “I am Nyuktali. Glacial is long dead.”
She would have been alone if not for her Arcosian handmaiden, a pale, icicle-thin girl, clinging to her leg. There was a gash on her cheek, but she wasn’t crying. Hail, on the other hand, was burned, just as they had said, like wax that had melted and cooled. What a hideous specimen.
“What did they do to you, Glacial?”
“I have been absolved, Admiral. And it is my job to destroy the Planet Trade Organization for the good of my people.”
She was trembling, though she tried still to put on a brave face. I had taken her horribly by surprise. I needed to clear my mind. Excitement was bubbling to the surface with persistence. It would not own me. I was an empty husk. Of all the enemies she and Ryboa could have faced, I must have been the furthest from her mind. “Glacial, please… Stop this madness. You don’t have to do this.”
An energy beam formed around my fist, sharpening to a point. I took a step towards them. The girl screamed. “I don’t have to do anything. This is my choice. I mean to provoke your father into coming for me. Oh, he will. He will!”
The air stirred. I should have reacted faster. When the Tahmier appeared from nothingness to my right, I had no chance to react to his own energy beam slicing towards me. He severed my hand, just below the wrist, in a whirling move. I never felt it. There was no blood, no pain. Maybe that was the Djio-Nil. Maybe not.
He was bloodied, the visor of his space suit cracked. Removing his helmet, the captain stood between me and them, his bright blue energy sword raised at my heart. “Hail, run!” he barked. “Go now! I’ll take him!”
I had fallen to a knee, panting. It wasn’t pain I felt, just emptiness. Then came hate. “You will die by my hand, space rat!” I snarled, rising to face him again. “I am the champion of Ctha’Naka. You have no chance against me!”
The furry-faced soldier cocked his head carelessly. “I like my chances better with you disarmed, Glacial.”
“Don’t call me that!”
I lunged at the man; he caught my fist, peeling it back and kneeing me in the chest. “I am Captain Tuchete Chero, honor guard of Admiral Hail. And I’m the last damn face you’ll ever see, Glacial.”
His kicks were weak. I spun around the man, shooting a flurry of energy into his back. As he stumbled forward, I lunged at him, wrapping my tail around his neck, rising into the air, and throwing him back to the ground. When the dust cleared, he had disappeared again. Cursed Tahmiers. They could turn invisible if they wanted, but I thought that was only possible in low light. It was almost midday.
I felt something moving behind me. Turning with a punch ready, I was hit in the back of the head by a flying kick. He was faster than I had assumed. Or maybe I was just getting slower. I still wasn’t feeling any pain. That concerned me. Even if I couldn’t feel it, I was surely getting sluggish. My body could not handle this sort of shock, no matter what the Djio-Nil made me believe.
I threw several punches and kicks at him, but without my right hand, I couldn’t block his attacks. The Tahmier was pathetic, but so was I. That was the wrong mindset. I couldn’t give up. I had to feel the emotions pass through me, let them go, and stay true to my mission. Ctha’Naka was counting on me. I noticed that below us, in the rubble, Hail had not fled. Why she never left, I will never know. Perhaps she knew if I won, she would never be able to outrun me, no matter the head start. She would be right about that.
He disappeared and reappeared to my left. I blocked the first punch, but missed the second. He got me good in the jaw before I slapped him away with my tail. Before I could follow up with a high kick, he disappeared into thin air. As he vanished and reappeared around me, almost as if he were teleporting (but he was not), I stabbed at him with my tail and feet, missing every time. My stamina draining quickly, I unleashed an explosive wave, catching him mid-flight. As he was stopped by the force of my ki wave, the man had nothing to do but attack again. He was persistent. I liked that. Shame he had to die.
Chero swung at me wildly. I ducked under his attack, then flipped behind him, elbowing him in the back. As he staggered, I created a ball of energy between my fingertips. He was lunging for me again. I could feel it in the air. I side-spun over him as he came for me then. As he missed, I landed before him. The man let out a cough of surprise before I blasted him in the face.
The light was bright enough to blind me. I blinked and saw his smoking corpse land unceremoniously on a partially collapsed wall, his arms and legs splayed brokenly.
I landed, holding my cauterized stump gingerly. I had to remain focused. My stamina would not last much longer. I had to get back to Narelus soon. One of my soldiers who remained there had to be a doctor, right? Walking up to the women, I whispered, “Now it ends. With this, the illegitimate royal family will be reduced to four.”
Something dark flashed in Hail’s eyes. Maybe she wanted to spit on me. “Uncle Cold should have executed you for what you did! He let you live… and this is how you repay our mercy?!”
“That man put me on a torture barge, took years from me, made me suffer! Death would have been a reward compared to what he made me go through!”
“You tried to kill him! What did you expect would happen?”
“Enough of your drivel!” I bellowed, breaking into a run, my fist pulled back. There was nothing to think about now. I was empty-minded, clear-headed, feeling the Djio-Nil carrying me forward.
“Nooooo!! Stop it! Stop it! Let her go, please! Please, Lady Hail has done nothing t–”
The handmaiden’s last word was exhaled into my fist. I pushed it through her mouth, through her skull, teeth and bones and blood and brains splattering against my knuckle. My chest was on fire. I was ready. My mind was clear. I was moving with purpose. I was a tool of the Deep One. I would bring our people salvation.
She screamed pathetically, dropping to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Why she cared so much about a servant, I’ll never know. Perhaps the admiral realized, in that moment, that it was all over.
“Glacial! Glacial! Glacial!! Wait…! Wait, stop!”
She put up her hands in self defense, but I was on her like a Wintaar waking from hibernation. Slapping her cheek, I took her to the ground. Chunks of stone and glass and metal surrounded us, embedding in her flame-scarred skin. She tried to speak, but I wrapped my tail around her throat. I punched her once in the face. She was weaker than I would have expected. That punch nearly knocked her out. Blood leaked down Hail’s nose. Struggle though she did, it was no use.
I gripped her by the back of the head. “Ctha’Naka is eternal. We are the chosen. You will not stand in our way. It’s over.”
With that, I slammed her face into the ground. The first time, I felt her nose break. Then, her teeth shattered with the second and third hits. By the fourth hit, the only sound she made was that of wet smacking. A bloody pothole had been left in the spot I was pushing her face into. Her body began to spasm, shuddering against my grip. I did not let up. There was no mercy in me. Ctha’nhalath had willed this result.
I lost count of how many times I did that to her. Maybe fifty. Maybe more. When it was over, sweat stinging my eyes, I collapsed against a rock to catch my breath. And that was when the bitch rolled over, sitting up with all the strength she had left to stare me in the face. How she had survived that beating, I do not know. She wasn’t even high on Nil. Her face was bloody, her eyes shut, her mouth a purple ruin. “He killed your fahda…” she breathed. “You can’t take dat back… He’ll kill–”
A Death Beam through the heart put an end to Hail. Silence returned to Mirocus, but I was not at peace. Her corpse lay before me; I should have felt exalted. I should have felt triumphant. All I felt was the choking pain, finally rearing its ugly head, cascading in panicked sprints up and down my arm. It would have been enough to knock me unconscious if not for the Djio-Nil.
I had missed feeling, I thought to myself, as if that philosophical inanity could provide me any tangible comfort.
Powder blue skies greeted me on my return. It was a bustling day in N’gatiq. The city looked like it had been entirely reconstructed. Ever since that rogue Planet Trade Organization officer had led a force here, butchering Quglith by the millions and razing dozens of the sea-floating cities, it had been difficult to look upon the capital city covered in its hundreds of black-burnt war wounds. In recent months, most of the damage had been repaired, and now Quglith were returning, thankfully. Breathtaking to behold were the rebuilt white towers of Cthal. They were robust as lightning bolts and taller than any other building in the city–a most fitting temple design for the Deep One, I thought.
It was there I went first. Ctha’Aalglak was waiting to greet me in the halls of Qhonar Vas, the chamber of sacrifice, where I was to make my offering. I set the Arcosian’s corpse I had slung over my shoulder on the nearest stone table. The High Priest followed me there, looking over Hail’s body like she was a fish carcass washed up onto the shore.
“Nyuktali, it is good to see you!” the High Priest smiled. Then she noticed, and her expression changed, like a rippling tide. “Your hand… did that happen in your fight against the admiral? Oh my!”
“Her captain surprised me. It’s no matter. The surgeons will make me a new one.”
“Are you in pain, Nyuktali?”
“No.”
“Good. That is good. Well… make sure you choose an appropriate strain for this sacrifice, Nyuktali. And here…” She handed me a needle with a gloved hand. I took it freely, letting it touch my skin. “There’s enough Yhun in there to kill Icer, Kuriza, and Yuki. I assume you won’t need this for Polaria, but if you need to…”
“I’ll try not to use it against her. I am more powerful than that one. I know I am. My faith is strong. I will not let you down.”
“Very good, Nyuktali. You have taken the first step. But the road we are traveling is long and treacherous, and we are not nearly to its end. Icer will come for you next. Kill him first. Once he’s dead, Yuki and Kuriza will fall into a second civil war. That will be to our benefit. If by some chance they remain in an alliance, however… the Yhun will silence them. Take care of it. I do not have any more to offer you.”
She withdrew, slipping behind a pale seastone pillar. All I could hear for a time was her feet on the stone, echoing idly. I knew I had to follow. Nyuktali was the tool of the gods, but he was also the servant of the High Priests.
I hopped into her shadow in a breath. “Is something the matter, Ctha’Aalglak?”
“Nyuktali? Oh, it’s nothing.” She took five steps and stopped. “Actually, no. I need you. How did you know? Did you receive a sign from Mighty Ctha’nhalath?”
“This one is but a tool of the gods. Command, and it will be done.”
She smiled, parting her mandibles in a rare friendly gesture. “You are a faithful scion, Nyuktali. That is why I know I can trust you with this information.”
My skin grew warm, though I knew not why. “Anything. I am yours to command.”
“Ctha’Nakki and Ctha’Nuktolen have continued selling Nil to foreigners. I caught them myself… they were in a room with a host of spicemasters… Corlini, Faereth, Joleans–you know, the usual. There were crates of Nil being distributed. I saw it with my own eyes, Nyuktali.”
“Such actions go against Mighty Ctha’nhalath’s will for his chosen. We are not to greedily mine the wealth of Ctaedi and export it off-planet… such actions are heresy.”
“That they are,” the old woman replied gravely. “Ctha'Mokkatteti is aware of my claims. She is with me, as are you.”
My phantom fingers ached to clench into a fist. “I am.”
“Then you know what must be done,” the Quglith replied flatly. “They are on Qhonar Verandi at this very moment.”
“Once I have completed my offering, I will go.”
Her watery eyes drew away from me, her voice falling to a whisper. “Good. Very good… Fortune be with you, Nyuktali. Be strong.”
The aged woman’s sigh was not one of relief. I could not share such emotions with her; I was a scion. I felt nothing but the grumbling in my belly. My fingers were tingling. It had been hours since I’d smoked Nil. I needed to try a new strain for what was to come.
The hallucinogenic Sukhin strain seemed to me the best option for these proceedings. I smoked a full stick of it before returning to Qhonar Vas. Thankfully, the chamber was empty when I returned… well, the corpse had remained. I was not meant to feel, and yet all these betrayals, piling up like gut punches, became too much to bear.
Once, there had been five High Priests. Ctha’Ghull had paid for his heresy. Then there were four. The fifth rank had never been replaced, tainted as it had become. History could be so cruelly cyclical.
I did not wait for the surgeons, talented as they were, to craft me a new hand, before doing my duty.
Her corpse was decomposing before my eyes. It was time to bring an end to this. I had cleaned the blood from her face. Why, I do not know.
“I present this offering to Mighty Ctha’nhalath! My opponents fell before me. In my faith, I was able to defeat the most worthy of opponents! To the Deep One, eternal be his reign, I present this humble offering!”
Silence filled the chamber. I was alone with the corpse. She was nothing to me. She was just another enemy, defeated by my might. I could not feel anything. I was Nyuktali, the Scion of Ctha’nhalath. I was an empty vessel. My purpose was to serve. I held no desire in my heart.
“Cousin…” I breathed, trembling. “Were it not for the Nykkarins…” I could not finish my sentence. “You fought to the end. You fought well. Given the circumstances…”
My voice broke. Suhkin was my life. Tentacles, black and wriggling, sprouted from the crown of her head, her green head jewel having already been shattered. Grotesque an image as this was, I was enthralled. My body felt warm, felt alive. I was an empty vessel, after all. It would do me no good to exert my own opinion. I was not an individual anymore. My opinions did not matter.
Her body vaporized. In red-black squares, she de-materialized before my eyes. It was clean and direct. There was no room for interpretation. The Deep One had received his offering. It was good to see those tentacles, black and wriggling, disappear into nothingness, never to return. Suhkin was no novice’s stick. I would need to have better control when I confronted the traitors.
Regret bubbled in the back of my throat. I tried to swallow, but could not. I blinked, and Qhonar Verandi was there, the Nubasan fields laid before me.
“Nyuktali, what are you doing here?” Ctha’Nuktolen asked me, his voice slick as a tepid pool of water.
“I have heard of your dealings with foreigners.”
A simple statement produced simple results. Nuktolen screamed and ran, shitting himself on the way. Nakki, the placid, self-appointed master High Priest, dared not move. He knew that to flee was to admit guilt. He was smart; his fellow was not.
I blasted Ctha’Nuktolen’s brain out before he could reach the nearest door. Thankfully, they were alone. Had there been any spicemasters present, I would have had to kill them too. Nuktolen and Nakki were my tutors, my masters, those who had taught me numerous techniques and battle forms. And they were heretics. To be disloyal to Ctha’Naka was to die. I wanted to eat them whole, to consume their transgressions, to put such filth inside me as to make me responsible. Such a reality was not possible, however.
Ctha’Nakki grinned, spreading his arms outward to welcome me in. “Nyuktali, you are pious and without doubt. I commend you fo–”
His blood was blue and bubbly. Nakki fell, clutching the gaping hole in his neck. I would not be deterred. To doubt was to be a failure. I would not fail.
Two High Priests remained. They were our future.
I left. There was nothing more for me to do there. Cobalt splatterings only made me queasy.
Minister Ctugyol was waiting for me in the hall. How he found me, how he knew, I’ll never know. “Nyuktali…” his voice squelched, clicking mandibles and tapping his fingers against one another in uncertainty.
“Minister.” I knew him not well, but I knew of him. “What do you require of this tool of the gods?”
“Don’t do it,” he said humbly, stepping up. “Don’t continue with this madness. Our species… our way of life. It will all end if we don’t back down!”
My chest swelled with pride. He was another heretic. “Or what, Minister?”
“We will be doomed if you do not make peace with Icer. Unwrap yourself from arrogance! Do what is bes–”
I punched through his skull, feeling a wet, ripe explosion around my knuckles. The minister’s brains painted the wall in a deep shade of blue. His did not bubble so much. I found my way to the window, thumbing the needle of Yhun. Wind caressed the Nubasan fields outside. This was the only strain of Nil that was not grown underwater. That did not make it cheaper, for some reason.
Blood trickled down my fingertips. I longed for my right hand, for what was my dominant fist. My phantom fingers burned. It was too much. I pulled away, fantasizing. Icer would come for me now. I had stirred the Wintaar’s nest. It would only be a matter of time. Yhun was my answer; it would be our salvation. I touched it with my fingertips, the feeling producing no reaction in me. Ctha’Aalglak had needed gloves. She was not tainted. What did it matter? I was the Scion of Ctha’nhalath. My purpose was to protect the Quglith. I would do so at any cost.
At any cost. Some would characterize those words as nothing more than foolish idealism. Not me. I twirled the needle between my fingers, relishing, in fantasy, when I would get the opportunity to confront Icer and destroy the Planet Trade Organization once and for all. Only a prick would be needed. Not even the Golden Emperor would be able to resist Yhun. I smirked. This was, truly, the beginning of the end. Ctha’nhalath have mercy upon their souls, for I wouldn’t.
Chapter IV: Ctha'Naka[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Icer |
| Position: | Emperor of the Planet Trade Organization |
| Date of account: | April 4, Age 767 (first scene) April 12, Age 767 (second scene) April 17, Age 767 (third, fourth, and fifth scenes) |
Where there are Faereth, there are liars. I presided over the Council of Faeri this time around. Of the six who served, I partially trusted four: Governor Lychin, Admiral Jahu, Spicemaster Calansi, and Statesman Meiquano. Nevertheless, trusting a Faerin is not an easy thing to do. They’re only slightly more trustworthy than pirates. Ureigo, vile as he could be, was more faithful than all the damn space elves combined.
To destroy them would be a poor choice. I would be making enemies all over the universe if I did that. Making profits was what kept my empire in good health. It’s one thing to manage a territory, another to conquer and destroy without restraint. If I executed everybody who ever had a treasonous thought about me, there wouldn’t be anybody left to rule over.
Jahu was a capable fleet admiral. Lychin was a reliable governor. No one could replace them. That, however, did not make them worthy of my trust. A wise emperor must be cautious. I had been taught years ago by my brothers to always assume the worst.
In the past, the Faereth had used this council as a means to gain support for treason. Once, this council had seated dozens. Six would do for now. Perhaps I would need to lower that number. Time would tell. The fewer of them in charge of making important decisions, the better.
This meeting chamber was not the usual place they held Great Councils. Evidently, the old one had been destroyed when Lychin executed the Faerin Empire traitors. This was a cozy room. Unadorned black stone walls, a viridian glass table, curved like a waning moon, and steaming Green Liani Tea were laid out before me, elegantly minimalistic. Wrinkled and hook-nosed, Elder Statesman Saphodine began the proceedings.
“The first matter of contention on our agenda today…” The old woman looked up as I paced around the room, though there was nothing she could do to stop me. Everyone else remained seated around the table. It was only mercy on my part that had saved her. I could have easily purged her along with the rest of Bael’s officers if I had wanted to. But she had not openly supported them (Farneth hadn’t either); Lychin had personally vouched for her. This was no matter so easily cut free. “Protection of the core worlds in our empire.”
“There are many worlds that require orbital defense platforms,” the nobleman Eldrin Farneth spoke up. “Not least of which, Peregari, Atjoh, Nyare… Loru Qir, Lipanto, Faeri itself… these are obvious choices.”
“But do we have the resources for such expenses?” Spicemaster Calansi complained. “Of all these worlds, surely only a few are necessary for our continued existence. Faeri and Atjoh surely are.”
“The thirty most populated planets in Emperor Icer’s region hold priority,” Governor Lychin said. With him was his steward Imbe, Bael’s daughter. I found it amusing that he had spared the man’s family. Perhaps some good would come of that. Not likely, though. She was a Faerin. That girl still blamed me for her father’s death. I could tell by the way she was sitting–her back erect, her head down, hands folded on her lap. She would make a move against me or him some day. I hoped that man knew what he was doing. “We will expand from there in due time. And we must not forget that there are worlds in Kuriza’s and Yuki’s sub-regions that deserve protection.”
This was inane. I was growing tired of the triteness of these Faereth. “Admiral Jahu!” I barked They froze. My tail stirred. Enough of this nonsense. I was emperor. “I need you to clear out the pirates to the north of my region. All of them. They are taking over world after world on the unprotected frontier. Their marauding is hurting trade, and I’m losing too many soldiers out there. Wipe them out.”
“My lord… must I depart now? We’re right in the middle of–”
“Now.”
“Yes, my lord.”
She bowed and was gone. The five of them were staring at me. “You don’t need to debate which planets are important. We already know. Find the resources to produce orbital defense turrets for every world of mine with a population of over one million. Simple as that. Move onto the next issue.” My tail cracked like a whip through the air.
Eldrin Farneth cleared his throat. “Indeed, there are other matters we need to discuss, my lord.”
“Get on with it then. I’m listening.” I had half a desire to shoot him through the throat with a Death Beam.
“The spice has run dry. Real Nil–quality Nil–has vanished from every galactic market I know of… and what little is technically available is being sold at exorbitant prices. It’s absurd. Something must be done about this! The average spicemaster’s profits are dramatically slipping even as we speak.”
“I already decriminalized Nil consumption,” I told him. “You have nothing to worry about. Once the zeal of Ctha’Naka is brought into line–”
“And when will that be?” Farneth interrupted, his mouth contorted in a humorless smirk. “Suppose we win the war against them. So what? The Quglith will be condemned to die, and all the Nil will vanish from the universe. Is not profit the purpose of our empire?”
“The spice must flow. That will not change after the Quglith are punished.”
“Correct,” I said. “We will spare the Nil producers at least until their craft can be taught to more loyal servants. Spicemaster Calansi has already been briefed on this matter, have you not?”
“Lord Icer’s right, Farneth. We have nothing to worry about. Once the rebellion’s put to an end, Ctaedi will be given to the spice lords.”
“There are none who can stand against me. Those who would dare have already decided their fate.”
They all murmured in agreement. Next came Saphodine, her hoarse, dry voice indicating rather harshly her age. “There is also the matter of the defense fleet requiring new officers. And what should come of those who rose in rebellion with Bael.”
Not one of the four responded. Silence filled the chamber. I wondered if they would have been so tight-lipped had I not been present. “Admiral Jahu is to train them. As I have re-assigned her temporarily, that burden will fall on you, Governor Lychin.”
“I’ll get to it at once, Emperor. Do I have full discretion in the matter?”
“Pick whomever you desire. Of the soldiers who rose in rebellion with Bael,” I said coldly, pacing before them, “the officers have already been executed, as all of you know. But many common soldiers still hold the same thoughts in their hearts. It is up to you to find out who they are and deal with them appropriately. Should Faeri ever rise against me in rebellion again, I will not be merciful to your kind.”
Farneth had lowered his eyes. The rest stared at me unflinchingly. Even the girl had dared to. I noticed her father’s defiance in her high cheekbones, in the way she maintained a passive, calm expression.
Afterwards, Lychin, Calansi, Meiquano, and myself had tea. The other two had business to attend to, sadly. I made note of that. I was already suspicious of Farneth, but perhaps Saphodine as well was someone I needed to keep an eye on. She was, after all, one of the old guard. The other two survivors of that time were firmly on my side.
“Green Liani from Loru Qir. Richest flavor in all the universe,” Lychin chirped as his steward brought us our cups.
“You’re one of Bael’s daughters,” I said out loud. Imbe nodded innocently, masking embarrassment. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Imbe, my lord.” I already knew that, but it was interesting enough to see how long it took her to give up that piece of information. She had a voice like honey–delicate, but not fawning.
“The eldest,” Lychin informed me. “She has been an excellent steward in the short amount of time she’s been with me. One day she will become a statesman, perhaps even a mayor or a delegate of the Great Council.”
“Is that so?” I sipped the tea slowly. It was fine, but nothing worth describing lavishly. I preferred ice wine. “So long as you do not make the same mistakes as your father, you should have a bright future, girl.”
“Th-thank you, my lord. I will try to do my best.”
Once she had served everyone, Lychin asked her to wait outside so we could continue to enjoy teatime in private. The girl bowed and was gone like a shadow in the dark.
Calansi thrummed the dark-wood table. “What if they destroy the Nil fields, knowing they’re going to lose?”
“I am going to Ctaedi first. There won’t be time for a war. In the meantime, that damn Pukcoläsic and his followers also need to be dealt with. I’ll send Kuriza to deal with them. Once these rebellions are snuffed out, then we can focus on rebuilding our trade networks and training a new generation of soldiers to protect the outposts from pirates. And we may have to deal with a long conflict against the Corvos League.”
“My lord, can’t you destroy them yourself? What need do we have of armies when we have the Golden Emperor?”
“If the Corvos League is ruled by intelligent beings–and I believe it is–then their strategy will be to unleash their armies across the empire, and attack us all at once, doing as much damage as possible in a short period of time. I cannot be in two places at once.” I thought of Audacci and her strength. She was no longer my equal–not since I had discovered my golden form. But at the same time, I knew so little of the Corvos League at present. Were there others who served that empire of similar strength as her? If she had, say, four or five companions of similar power, then even my golden form would be taxed dangerously if I were forced to fight them at once. I needed spies to infiltrate the League, to inform me about what was going on in the minds of their leaders, to assess their strength and cunning. All in due time.
“Once they’re brought under our boots, the universe will be firmly in the control of the Planet Trade Organization.”
What an outdated idea, selling planets on the galactic market. How often did a wealthy buyer with need of an entire world come along anymore? More often than not we destroyed the worlds we conquered or added them to my empire. The real profits to be made were in Nil, Kooli, NTT, and the like. Things would soon be changing.
“That will be an extraordinary moment. Even when Lord Cold reigned, he didn’t command the entire empire…”
“We cannot forget the Mrovians either. Those bastards took out Lord Nitro… we have to destroy them too!”
“True,” I thought aloud, slurping tea. I had almost forgotten about that micro-empire. “That’s a task for Yuki, I think. It’s her job to gain revenge on the ones who killed her father. But that’s not a priority right now. They aren’t an expansive empire like the other three. We shouldn’t have a problem–”
My scouter went off. It was Hail, her message marked urgent. I had told her not to contact me on this channel unless something very serious had happened. My blood ran cold. Had news gotten out already? “Excuse me,” I said to the others, standing up and returning to the empty council chambers. When I was sure I was alone, I re-opened the channel. “Hail?! What’s going on?”
She was not there, though I could hear her voice. I realized my daughter had sent me a message: “Father… I’m marooned on Mirocus. We’ve been ambushed by a force of Ctha’Naka… and they’ve destroyed the fleet. A hundred ships. I’m so sorry, Father. Ersi, Lanzo, Jolen, Chero… they’re all dead. I’m stranded! There’s no one else left. I don’t know what did it, what power could have vaporized all those ships, but I’m trapped. I need you, Father… I nee–”
The transmission cut out. Now my blood was boiling. She had disobeyed me, lost a hundred ships, stranded herself on a far-off territory. And she was all I had left. There was no time. I called up Neimye, my beautiful Zar-degar consort, and commanded her to ready the ship. I would be traveling light–first to Mirocus, then to Ctaedi. There was no time to go back and finish my tea; the Faereth would, hopefully, understand.
Dust and darkness were there to greet me. I had only brought Neimye with me, choosing a tiny little screamer of a ship for this trip. We didn’t stay long. She poured me a glass of vintage chillrose from my grandfather’s orchard. I watched the stars and drank and drank. It was freeing to have this young woman as company.
Neither fleets nor armies awaited me at Ctaedi. They knew I would be coming. That put me on guard. They would have been wise to draw me somewhere else. Whoever their champion was–perhaps a Galatrix gladiator, or some mercenary–did not matter. They may have been stronger than Hail, but that was only due to the Nikkarins. I chose my Second Form to humiliate whomever it was.
Not wanting to lose the girl, I left the ship in orbit, finishing off the bottle of chillrose first. She gave me a massage (that’s all I need to say), and I was off. Rarely did I enter battle drunk. That was more my brother’s style. Yet it was not a normal day. I continued to hold onto a faint hope that they had merely taken her, but with Mirocus blasted to pieces, that hope was childish at best.
N’gatiq bobbed and shimmered white in the Luylia Sea. The power I felt was neither immense nor inconsequential. No Quglith had ever been this strong to my knowledge. Not that I cared. They were soon to be rendered extinct.
Although spice was in the air, the Cthal Temple was remarkably barren. Everything was made of stone–the floors, the walls, the pillars, the tables. All of it had been built from seastone, though not all was uniformly dark. Its solitude embodied a hundred thousand years of squid-jaw penance. I sensed no one else inside save for the being of unusual power. His strength, for it felt masculine, was nothing I couldn’t handle in a powered-down state. Fear was an emotion I rarely felt, and certainly not in many years. Right now, the only thing I felt was the twitching in my fingers.
Cthal was empty as a spent bottle of Nyarin gin. Light beams cut like razor blades down from open holes in the ceiling, speckling the ground in bright spots. I found him kneeling before a powder white Quglith fountain, deep in prayer. There was Nil in the air over there, but it wasn’t fresh.
“Glacial?! Glacial, is that you?”
Rising with his back yet to me, the man replied, “My name is Nyuktali, Scion of Ctha’nhalath.”
“What are you doing here? Have they taken you prisoner? How did you escape from 68? Your father–”
He faced me. “I have no father. I am an empty husk. I am a tool of the Deep One. My purpose is to bring his will to fruition!”
A chill ran down my body. “So they’ve brainwashed you. What did they do to you? Torture? Promise you riches? Squid women? Didn’t know they were your type, Glacial.”
“I am Nyuktali, not the other. He is dead. And soon you will join him.”
“It was you who met Hail at Mirocus?” I knew already. I felt it in the back of my eyes. I don’t know why I had to ask. “Where is she?”
“The admiral was my humble offering to Mighty Ctha’nhalath.”
My heart wasn’t beating fast, but its noise was deafening. When I kneed him in the chest, Glacial flew into a pillar, landing in a limp, bloody puddle as cracked stone crumbled around him. I exhaled, walking slowly to him, my footsteps echoing irregularly, waiting for him to sit up. The man refused me even that banal courtesy.
“Did you really think you could beat me, Glacial? Are you so far gone that you deluded yourself into believing such a thing was possible?!” I grabbed him by the neck and threw him into a wall. My voice had barely risen. I needed to remain calm. My emotions would not lord over me. “Or did you think you could poison me? Missed opportunity there, boy. You should have presented me with a cup of chillrose. I’m not my brother after all. Maybe you’d get lucky.”
He neither screamed nor squirmed. His face was eternally blank. The purple mess he had left on the stones was the only sign that he was alive.
“I only need three people dead. You, Yuki, Kuriza. Then the universe will succumb to Ctha’Naka’s truth! We are the chosen!”
“We are not so easily destroyed, as you have learned. Switchie gave me his reports on you, before you escaped. That scar on your head–is that not real? Is your past not a part of you? Maybe you’re so high on Nil you’ve given up.”
“I cannot be beaten. I am the Scion of Ctha’nhalath,” he whispered defiantly as I kicked him again, feeling bones shatter against my toes.
“You think yourself the hero of this tale, rather than seeing this sad, pathetic rebellion for what it really is. Your selfishness and stupidity have gotten you far, Glacial. You’ve outlived your father, your sister…” I wrapped my tail around his torso as I raised him into the air and began punching him in the face. “And it all comes crashing down because your ego never learns. We should have executed you for attempting to assassinate Cold. It was a mercy he showed you, letting you live. And this is how you repay our family?!”
“Mercy?” For the first time, his emotionless expression broke. The pain he showed me then went deeper than I would have thought. “Mercy to be forced into slavery on a torture barge? Mercy to be left there and forgotten year after year by my own family…? Mercy fo–”
I punched his mouth shut. The shit he spewed was almost as unsavory as the blood dripping down his broken body. “You attempted to kill my brother. A penchant for treachery runs in your blood, does it not, Glacial? Arcterial tried to rise against me too. His blunder was in blinding himself to his own weakness. What a vainglorious idiot. His arrogance wa–”
A flash of silver came flying in from the side. Glacial’s hand was raised against me for the first time. Only it wasn’t closed in a fist. He held a thin needle between two fingers–almost imperceptible if not for the light raining down from overhead. I would not have noticed it had I not seen the glint of that needle’s head out of the corner of my eye.
Even in my Second Form, my speed dominated his. In reflex, I caught Glacial’s wrist, clenched it until I felt it shatter beneath my grip, and let him drop. The needle rolled between two stone tiles in front of me. Now he moaned like a dying beast, writhing on the ground, the cuts on his torso, arms, legs, tail, and face painting the sacred white stones of this soon-to-be-leveled temple in zealous shame. I dared not pick the needle up, though I crouched before it, sniffing. Whatever poison it had been coated in was scentless, colorless, entirely invisible. Had he not just attempted to stick me with it, I would have assumed it was sterile.
“What poison was in there, Glacial?! Answer me, damn you!”
He cried for a while before responding. When he did, tears mingling with blood, his eyes red and raw, my nephew glared at me with a level of hate I could readily reciprocate. “Not poison… Truth!! Take it… and join us…! Do it! Are you a coward, uncle?! What are you afraid of?!”
His voice broke and echoed.
I had felt so hot a moment ago. My blood cooling, the chillrose no doubt wearing off, I shivered and folded my arms. “You don’t know fear, Glacial, but you will.”
Nimbly, I teleported behind him, grabbed him by the back of the head, and punched his face into the stone tiles, shattering rock and teeth and a smug little princely nose all in one giant crunch.
It took five days for everyone to get to Ctaedi. In that time, my subordinates were able to marshal the disobedient Quglith in N’gatiq. Their population having not yet recovered from that officer (whose name I cannot remember) running rampage across the planet, every one of them was able to be gathered in the seaborne city. Admittedly, the streets were packed, but that wasn’t my concern. There were twenty million, give or take, at present–99% of the Quglith population. I would have expected to have found some loyal Quglith amongst my armies, or Kuriza’s, but to my knowledge, and the meticulous checking and rechecking of Master Sapras, the historian, no such Quglith existed in the databases. Every single one of them had broken from the empire when Ctha’Naka had been born. It would be dumb to question the strength of their beliefs.
Traitors–every last damn one of them. They believed in their Nil-warped nonsense, so I had no choice. Cut off the head and the body will fall. But why let it decompose, let it stink up the place, when vaporizing the whole thing in one go was a cleaner, more elegant solution?
I met them at the top of the steps of Cthal, the tallest building in N’gatiq. Placed before me were Ctha’Aalglak and Ctha'Mokkatteti, the last surviving High Priests of a doomed religion. Standing in energy bonds, the two were chanting in their ancient, unintelligible language, mandibles sloshing and squelching like rogue waves.
Behind me, I had gathered Admiral Jahu, Governor Lychin, Imbe, Garish Ureigo, my old friend, five of the wealthiest spicemasters in the universe–Nitsh, Gerin, Calansi, Rakawe, and Ashkava–Kuriza, his aged bodyguard Lingon, his fierce-faced admiral Kracchus, Yuki, who remained hard to look upon, and her frail advisor Kirka. Today was a momentous day. Everyone would bear witness. The universe would know me as a just emperor.
“Today, I have put an end to a feeble rebellion.” I boomed to the crowds of Quglith. Floating video screens dotted the skies, enabling those who were not in the immediate vicinity of Cthal to see and hear me clearly. They would all need to. This broadcast was also being watched by every outpost and core world in the empire, and likely even by space pirates beyond imperial space, and perhaps even by some of the members of the Corvos League. That was good. They needed to see this too. “The Quglith tried to rise against the Planet Trade Organization in a time of uncertainty and strife, preying upon dozens of worlds and slaughtering trillions in the name of their false god.”
Disquiet ran through the crowds. What I said was heresy. But I was the true god. Where was Ctha’nhalath to smite me down? Maybe he too feared the Golden Emperor.
“They valued zeal above loyalty to me, to the empire, and to their brethren of every species whom they cut down, butchered, and betrayed. These two right here are the High Priests of Ctha’Naka–their treasonous words spurred the masses to commit untold heinous acts. Such disgusting disrespect has no place in my empire.”
Suddenly, I stepped up to them, grabbed each by the back of the head, causing them to break from their chanting in surprise, and blew their faces off from the back side with two purple ki bullets through the brain. Gasps and cries of shock peppered the crowd as I let the bodies fall. Returning to the stone podium, from which behind many a Quglith demagogue had made his or her name, I continued, “They say that mercy is a trait of a wise emperor. Today I will be merciful… and just. I shall not drag this out much longer.” Again, the Quglith broke into cries, some begging, some sobbing, some shouting at me defiantly in tongues I knew and did not. I suspect many were praying to the Deep One for protection. “They thought that they could best me… could destroy all of us. But their faith in the Scion of Ctha’nhalath was suicidally arrogant. Treason will never be tolerated in my empire.”
I raised my arms above my head, closing my eyes. Their voices rang in my ears for only a moment before the city exploded into a fireball. In a minute, everything had turned to ash. A seawind blew into N’gatiq, and swept it all away. My advisors hovered behind me, having been shielded from the blast by an energy barrier I had created just in the nick of time. When the sky blue ki bubble popped, we were left without an audience above the Luylia Sea. A halo of foam had appeared around what had once been the perimeter of the city, soon melting away as churning black waves swallowed its form whole. There was something missing that would never come back. The sea looked so nakedly new. I exhaled deeply, blinking the salt from my eyes.
“Now then,” I said sternly, facing the group. “Follow me to Qhonar Verandi. There is much business to discuss.”
It was midnight on the moon. The outpost, the Nubasan fields, the hangar bay… everything was so quiet now that the Quglith were gone. Indeed, my group of advisors were the only other people here with me. An eerie feeling filled the blue metal halls. Artificial light gave us an anemic welcome.
In the governor’s office, we settled down. There were matters I needed to speak to each of them about (which is why they were brought here), but not all need be said in the presence of everyone. First, I went to Jahu. Some might consider this me favoring her. I know Lychin thought as much. But me going to her first was simply an exercise in necessity.
“Have the scientists figured out what style of poison Glacial attempted to use against me?” I asked her, holding up the stone carving of the previous governor, Weghotati, before crushing that squid’s likeness to dust as I paced in front of the window.
“Yes, my lord. It’s Yhun.”
“Yhun?”
“A poison native to Ctaedi. Extremely rare, it’s lethal to all known species. Once one is infected, they must continue to inject Yhun into their body for the rest of their life, or they will die.”
“Curious. So that was his ‘truth’. How long can one go without needing to be injected again?”
“Depends on the species, my lord, but usually no more than a week. I should also mention that we’ve run tests on some of the corpses recovered from the area around Mirocus, and… well, the soldiers Glacial was using were infected. Every one of them. Those who aren’t Quglith, I mean.”
Yuki shook her head. “That explains how they were turning so many against us.”
“Vile beasts,” Ureigo muttered.
“Check if Glacial’s infected,” I ordered her. “Then you may return to the northern empire to continue your campaign against the pirates.”
The Faerin placed her hand over her heart and knelt before me. “Your will is my command, my lord.”
What godly words. After she left, I focused my attention on the five spicemasters, all of whom had been so polite to wait this long in silence. Their aromas were by far the most potent of anyone in the room, especially the three Joleans. They wore bright robes with dizzying patterns, like nidrazi in heat, whose scales turned bright orange, blue, and green when seeking mates. Not even Ureigo was this flashy. He had decided simply (or perhaps lazily) to wear his battle armor and a cape, like the other officers.
“You are the Five,” I told them. “Ctaedi is yours now. The Nil fields will be managed by you collectively. All other spicemasters and Nil providers will have to go through you. The fields of this moon,” I said while gesturing at the window, “and the fields below Nagthalgatta Crater are mine. I will take full profits from them. You will split up the remaining fields amongst yourselves however you wish. I expect it to be equal amongst you five, or I will replace whoever is most greedy. You will take eighty percent profits from the Nil you sell from these regions.”
Their eyes lit up. Rakawe twiddled her fingers. I could see calculations racing through her mind as her second and third chin slapped against each other. “You are too kind, my lord.”
Ashkava fell to his knees, his blond ponytail swaying from side to side. “Showing such generosity to us, mere spicemasters… my lord, thank you! Thank you! You will not regret this, I promise you!”
Calansi nodded stoically. He was the most reserved of the bunch. And the only Faerin. Sometimes that made all the difference. Joleans could be so dramatic.
“We will get to work at once, my lord,” Nitsh, the long-nosed Corlini, said hastily. “The spice will begin flowing again in the coming days!”
“Aye,” agreed the gold-glittering Gerin, whose jewelry rings and piercings and bracelets would have been borderline excessive if split between all five of them. “We’re going to make a killing… the empire will be rich in short time, Lord Icer! I can guarantee that. Nil is a hot commodity! Many people thirst for it.”
“Good,” I replied, their compliments falling off me like sheets of ice into the ocean. “Go then. The Quglith harvesters are being held in the city of Cuelcha. Once your harvesters have learned the proper technique for extracting every type of Nil, execute them.”
“It will be done, Lord Icer!” They bowed low before leaving in a hurry.
Their spice lingered. I was not unhappy. Next I turned to Lychin. We had not talked since Polaria, but he knew now. They all did. It did no good to hide the truth from my loyal officers–him especially. He would have made a fine husband for her. Since the news had gotten out, Lychin had turned a permanently paler shade of lavender, and now his wrinkles, the bags beneath his eyes, and the beard he had let grow out since then made the elf look twenty years older. Even being imprisoned and starved for a month by Bael hadn’t weathered him nearly as much. As odd as it sounds, though, this left me encouraged, for I knew with utter certainty that he had loved her. And that meant his loyalty was genuine.
“Send ten thousand elite soldiers to man the defenses of this world,” I told him. “And I want Ctaedi repopulated with other species–the Torrn perhaps. They were not quite rendered extinct by Mirocus’ destruction. Those millions in service of the empire can be relocated here.”
“I will get right on that, Lord Icer.”
“Additionally, I want orbital defense turrets placed around the entire planet–with additional rings guarding each of the moons. Word will soon spread of what has happened here. Pirates will seek their fortune in raiding parties, no doubt. Ctaedi has first priority over all other planets for turret installation, Governor.”
“Understood, my lord.”
“Finally, you are to send one third of the Faerin Fleet here to protect Ctaedi until the turrets are constructed and we have fortified each outpost.”
“I can do that, my lord, but… we don’t have any officers to lead those ships, or the troops. What should be done about that?”
I stopped my pacing to think for a moment. Then my eyes found the boy, meek-faced and bored. I had to suppress a smirk. When I had been his age, these affairs had seemed hopelessly dull to me too. Well, they still did. That was the cost of being emperor. He would have to grow used to this if he was to be my heir. After recent events… well, he was next in line. I would need to spend more time with him, I realized in that instant, in a painful, ego-shattering blow. Frieza’s son was most likely my future.
“Kuriza, have Sapras go through the catalogue and pick out able-bodied officers from across the empire to take over this detachment of the Faerin Fleet. Their service will be temporary, until Lychin and Jahu can train a new batch of Faerin officers.”
“Yes uncle,” the boy replied politely, reaching for his scouter and turning away so as to not talk over us as he relayed the information to Sapras. For all his defiance, he certainly had manners. That was something Yuki could learn from the boy, I thought.
“You may go now, Lychin. Faeri needs you.”
He bowed stiffly and was gone, his steward girl following him out without a word. Grief is a terrible thing. There was no way for me to comfort him.
“Ureigo.”
“Aye?” the chubby man grunted. In his boredom, he had pulled out a bottle of what smelled like Uu’goc and had begun drinking from it like a newborn on a teat, his blubbery face scrunched up in revulsion as he swallowed the foul-tasting alcohol.
“You are governor of Ctaedi. The Five are yours to supervise.”
Surprise turned to joy before my eyes. He beamed ear to ear, his cheeks flushing. “M-my lord… you honor me.” The big man staggered drunkenly to a knee.
“Get up,” I scoffed. “The Nil trade is yours to command as well. Don’t mess this up.”
“I’ll do you good, Icer, I will!”
“Good,” I smiled, looking around. “This is your new office. Feel free to liven it up a bit. The Quglith were always so drab with their decorations.”
“Aye, Lord Icer.”
“Jahu has left a detachment of three hundred soldiers for you to command while we wait for reinforcements. They are waiting for you in the hangar bay. Go now, Ureigo.”
“Y-yes, of course, sir! Right away!” Wiping sweat from his brow clumsily, the man pocketed his Uu’goc and rushed out.
Now it was just me and my kin… well their guards were present too, but I trusted them as much as I could. I sighed and took a seat behind the governor’s desk, finding a squishy stress relaxing ball in a drawer and playing with it casually as I turned my attention to the hybrid Saiyan.
“Yuki, Yuki, Yuki.”
She was almost scowling, treading the line of politeness by a hair. “That is my name, uncle.”
“I have heard reports of several rebellions going on in your region. I want you to execute the traitors and repopulate the planets with loyal soldiers.”
“I will get to it at once.”
“Do not send soldiers to deal with them. You are to do this yourself.”
She was shifting on her feet uncomfortably. “I understand.”
“You will waste no time with that. As soon as you leave here, I expect you to begin retaking those planets. Once you are done, however, you are to go with a force of seventy ships to the east of your region and purge the pirate dens that have sprung up in recent times. Those infestations have grown considerably since the Ctha’Naka began attacking us. I want that entire region cleared out and added to the empire.”
“Yes, uncle. It will be done.”
“One more thing, Yuki.” I leaned forward to look her in the eyes. She had a hard time looking back for long. “I am surprised you haven’t acted on vengeance yet.”
“Wh-what…? I’m loya–”
“The Mrovian Empire killed your father. They are the only force that opposes us to the far east. I would have thought you would have destroyed them by now, but apparently not. Surprising, really.”
Her cheeks darkened in fury. This was just what I wanted. Perhaps it was dangerous to light a fire under her, but she would thank me later for this, I knew. “I am looking for them, uncle. They have ki-suppressing technology. Their planets are hidden. It’s not so easy. It took my father years to find them!”
Her voice broke, so as I cut in, I softened my voice. “You will find them, Yuki. Keep looking. But they are third priority at the moment.”
She bowed her head and nodded. “I understand, uncle.”
“You may leave.”
She knelt as Kirka whispered something in her ear. Then they were gone. I felt a similar emptiness in their energy as I had with Lychin’s, but theirs was tempered and cauterized, while his had been raw and bleeding. If she was able to destroy the Mrovians, as her father had failed to do, she would regain her confidence.
Yet, I remained concerned about that empire. They had managed to kill a member of my family, and I did not know how. Reports had come out about a Super Saiyan, like the one Frieza had faced on Namek, like the one he and his father and Cooler had succumbed to on Earth. Could this be the same being? I hardly knew. Frieza had destroyed the Saiyans, and yet somehow a few rats had escaped the sinking ship only to show up in the most unbelievable and ironic ways possible. I would eventually deal with them. Once the Corvos League was wiped out and the empire consolidated, then maybe I would turn my gaze towards Earth. But first, we had to find the Mrovians and destroy them to the last. There was much work ahead of us.
“Aw, saving me for last?” Kuriza whined. “Uncle Icer, you really are cruel!”
“There is a major rebellion going on in the southern empire at present,” I sighed again, leaning back in the chair and squeezing the ball as my eyes found the dark wood ceiling.
“Pukcoläsic,” Kracchus growled.
“Destroy what he has built,” I commanded him. “I don’t care what you do with Pukcoläsic. Kill him, imprison him, or send him back to the Galactrix Arena. It matters not. Personally, I would kill him, but perhaps it would be in your interest to win him over. He is a fine warrior.”
“He won’t want to join us after we kill off all his followers,” Lingon pointed out.
I was reminded of the day the four of us had brokered an alliance, my body gold and glimmering, Arcterial’s corpse at my feet, Nil in the air. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. The tension was gone, truly. I liked these two. Lingon had been Kuriza’s bodyguard since birth, and Kracchus was one of the most powerful warriors in the empire. It was good to have them with me.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Gladiators are rarely loyal beasts.”
“Then why should I try to get him to join me, hmm?” The boy’s voice went very high when he asked me that. “Are you trying to get him to backstab me, uncle?”
“Always be on your toes. Enemies may be lurking anywhere. You’re the second in line to the empire now, Kuriza. Should anything happen to me, you will become emperor. You must be careful. There will be a much bigger target on your head now.”
Lingon said, “There is no one who can touch him. Lord Kuriza is eminently powerful. Only you are stronger than he is, my lord.”
“That we know of,” I pointed out. “I have reason to suspect at least a few of the Corvos League elites would be able to kill him.”
Audacci of course could. She wouldn’t need to transform. When I had been but a boy, I had fought her on Lipanto, when she had claimed the world for herself, the greedy, lazy pirate she had been at the time. Since then, however, she had become orders of magnitude stronger due to her training at the legendary Venyi Academy. Truly, I did not know how my strength stacked up against hers. I liked my chances, though. The first time we fought, I won. She had never let that go–she knew someone was stronger than her, and such knowledge pained her ego. Maybe there were others. I still had very little intel on the Corvos League. But if she was one member, I could only guess that others would at least be stronger than the boy.
“Whoa… seriously? Who are they? I want to fight them. Uncle, please, you have to teach me how to do that golden transformation. Please!”
I smiled weakly. The boy was quite something. He seemed nothing like his father at first glance, but the more I was around him, the more uncanny the resemblance was becoming. “After you have cleansed the planets in rebellion in your region–and there are many of them, from what I’ve been told–and after you clear out the pirate dens to the north and east of your region, I’ll consider it.”
“But that will take forever, uncle!”
“You will have to learn patience then. However, it is a lot to ask you to clear out so many pirates. There are far more of them bordering your region than Yuki’s. I will send Jahu and her fleet to assist you once she has dealt with her own foes. That should help speed things up.”
“It’s a deal!” the boy whooped. “I’ll get right on it, uncle. You’ll see!”
“I will. You may leave now, Kuriza.”
Lingon and Kracchus moved to the door, but the boy stayed firmly planted in place. “Oh uncle, I forgot to ask… um, sorry if this is awkward or anything, but why, um, why not have another child? That way you would have your own heir.”
“Doing that takes more out of you than you would think. There’s a reason why your grandfather and I both stopped at three. Arcterial and Cooler had two each, and neither one of them planned on having a third. Your father too showed no signs of wanting additional children. It takes a lot out of you,” I repeated, squeezing my fist underneath the table so hard that I almost created a blast of sonic energy. “It takes a lot out of you.”
“Oh.” The pale boy looked away sheepishly. “I, um, I’ll go now. Pukcoläsic is gonna learn my name very soon! Don’t worry, uncle, I’ll make you proud. ”
“Good luck, and be careful,” I said. “Don’t underestimate any opponent you face out there.”
The door once again shut with a squeak; finally I was alone. My body felt heavy, like after a gravity-enhanced training session in my golden form. I was so tired, so done for today. But there was still one more thing I had to take care of. Exhaling, I got to my feet and, in a flash of light, transformed into my Final Form. The squishy ball, torn and in several pieces, fell from my hand, each bit landing with a dull thud on the governor’s desk.
Jahu was refreshingly expedient in her most pressing duty. I had placed Glacial in the cargo hold of my ship. He hung from energy bindings, battered and bruised, his body coated in dry blood, an energy restraint locked around his throat. Neimye piloted us away from Ctaedi; I closed the door behind me.
There was no light at first. The creaking of his chains was the only sound as the ship lurched up and away from Qhonar Verandi. The faint reek of Nil was still clothed to Glacial like the blood and sweat I could also smell. His head bowed, he didn’t react when I entered.
“It’s ironic,” I began. “If you had stayed, you would have been in line for the empire before me. Had we continued by the old succession laws, your claim would have been stronger than mine. And yet look where we ended up. Truth be told, Kuriza and Yuki have stronger claims than you, so your treachery would have continued either way. I’d bet more than a few planets on that.”
“Do it,” he mumbled, his head bobbing side to side. “You won… coward… get on with it!!”
I walked around him in circles as I spoke. “You came all this way. Survived your insurrection, Switchie’s torture, 68’s destruction, the battle against my daughter… You outlived all your captors, Nyuktali. All your comrades too. Your father, your sister, my children, Cold’s children. Of all our offspring… you are the last one standing. You always find a way. You always do. See? We’re not so easily destroyed, now are we?”
A broken man broke again. “Y-you… murdered him… murdered him…! His claim was better… Kuriza’s too… y-you have no honor!!” He looked up at me. In the darkness all I could see were his wet eyes.
“Strength does not bow to weakness, boy. Your sense of entitlement has not changed even after all these years.”
He was shaking, his chains rattling loudly. “Y-you weren’t stronger… than h-him… I heard the stories… You let Kuriza weaken him…! You coward! You’ve always been one!”
The room erupted in golden splendor. Recoiling, Glacial’s eyes teared up as he squinted at me in my perfect form. “I didn’t need to use this on him. I didn’t want to humiliate him. He really was a lazy old bastard. He could have gotten this form had he put the effort in… Cold too… any of you could have! But only I did. That’s the difference between me and you. I don’t believe the universe owes me anything. I take what I want!”
He spat in my face. “All of them’re dead! You can’t undo that… you never can…!”
I raised my hand to show him the glove I was wearing. In between two fingers was the needle. When he saw that, his face went bloodless. “I was merciful to the Quglith. I gave them quick deaths–even the High Priests. And you know what saddens me the most, Glacial, is that I would have spared you. I would have brought you in, reformed you, worked to heal you. I wanted to. After my brother’s actions… I still see some good in his bloodline. I would have saved you. Even now, this hurts me. I want to save you.”
“That w-w-won’t kill me…” he coughed, shaking in fear. “You don’t know wh–”
“This is Yhun,” I whispered, sticking the needle in his neck. Glacial let out a hard breath of air and convulsed before my eyes for a few moments. I waited until he was finished. “And with how much is left in this sliver, I can keep you alive for as long as I want.”
“U-uncle, please… No more… no more… please…” He was pleading like a child.
“There is no such thing as revenge. You aren’t worth my daughter. I won’t get her back–you’re right about that. This isn’t revenge, Nyuktali, Scion of Ctha’nhalath. This is what you get.”
I moved behind him, grasped onto his tail, and pulled. A spire of blood jettisoned away from the empty husk, sizzling and bubbling in the air as it evaporated against my aura.
Chapter V: Katchiguri[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Lingon |
| Position: | Bodyguard of Kuriza |
| Date of account: | May 2, Age 767 (first scene) May 6, Age 767 (second scene) May 10, Age 767 (third scene) May 18, Age 767 (fourth scene) May 21, Age 767 (fifth scene) |
Following the events at Ctaedi (which I’ve been told were already reported on), Lord Kuriza took us to Planet Frieza 57 to refuel. We were traveling light; no security fleet surrounded the prince’s saucer. The boy had been adamant that he wanted us to keep a low profile. Common soldiers would just get in the way.
Governor Natsumiko had allowed us to use her headquarters to strategize our attack against Pukcoläsic while the saucer was refueled. It was just Kuriza, myself, Kracchus, Sapras, and Epikail, the boy’s teacher, who were allowed in. The pale educator was not part of our discussion, though he was allowed to sit and listen, to witness the boy’s growing intellect and wit in action. The boy had not wanted any other officers present. I didn’t blame him. Too many voices in your ear can be just as much of a detriment as too few.
The hook nose historian began the strategizing. “Pukcoläsic’s empire, if it can be called that, now spans more than thirty systems. If we were to take him out, however, it would soon crumble.”
“Not likely,” Kracchus muttered, folding his arms and leaning up against the door. “Even if we assassinate Pukcoläsic, his followers will just become space pirates. Where do you think they’ll go? Most of them were gladiators too. The Galactrix Arena is gone. He finished them off. His followers have nowhere to go back to.”
It was my turn to speak. I stood on the right side of the governor’s desk where Kuriza was sitting (much as his uncle had been on Qhonar Verandi, I noted with pleasure). “We do not fear pirates. A few teams could wipe them out, and take the planets back.”
“We lost every garrison. It will be difficult to find the soldiers to repopulate the outposts. That’s billions dead or turned, Lingon.”
“It may take a few years for our presence in the region to recover, I’ll admit, but…”
“I shall need a team to sweep up the mess,” the boy spoke up suddenly, leaning back in his chair. “A team that can keep my region in check without me having to go around chasing pirates all the time.”
“Lord Icer has begun a policy of defending our planets with orbital turrets,” Sapras reminded him. “That should do the job eventually, but it will take years before every world under your guard, my lord, will get retrofitted with such technology. This is a wise plan.”
“I know it is; I came up with it. I want Pukcoläsic on the team!”
“And who would lead such a team?”
The boy looked surprised Kracchus had even asked. “Aranya, of course. She’s one of our elite soldiers–she used to work on Father’s ship. Now she’s become the Governor of Nyare. Lingon, order them to take us to Nyare at once.”
“As you command, Prince Kuriza.”
“And you two,” the boy said, looking first to the furry predator then to me, “I want you two to find a member for my Katchiguri Force! Each one of you! It’ll be a race to see who can find me the best teammate first!”
“Katchi…guri Force?”
“My father had the Ginyu Force. It’s time I had my own band of stylish mercenary scoundrels to clean up my messes for me!”
I had to cringe from his childish reasoning, loyal as I was. “So now they’re mercenaries? You do know that mercs aren’t loyal, don’t you, my prince?”
“Of course they’ll be loyal! Aranya and I’ve known each other since I was little!”
“You still are little, my prince. I just don’t want to you to be put in unnecessary danger.”
“I can trust Aranya. You remember her, Lingon, don’t you? She was helping that monkey–Vegeta, wasn’t it?–track down the Surgeon. That’s how she lost her eyes. Remember? I told you all about it!”
“Naturally.”
“If she’s in charge, I won’t have anything to fear. Now then, you two find me another couple of Katchiguri-worthy warriors by the time we capture Pukcoläsic, and that’ll be just enough.”
We bowed. I made note of Kuriza’s change in demeanor from when we had previously been with his grand uncle. After I had asserted (astutely in my opinion) that Pukcoläsic was unlikely to join our side after we butchered his followers, the young Arcosian had sarcastically remarked that perhaps Lord Icer was trying to backstab him by advising him to bring the Galactrix champion over to our side. Kuriza was showing none of his usual naïve nature. He was not going off impulse. Perhaps the way he’d acted in front of his kin had been a performance.
“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Sapras asked dryly. “How do you plan on capturing a man of such power, my lord? Certainly, if the rumors are to be believed, he is far stronger than any officer in the empire.”
“I don’t wish for this war to drag out. Once I capture him, it’s over. I’m far stronger than him. You know that.” He nodded once. “Sapras, is Pukcoläsic expanding his control in any particular direction?”
“From the south, at the tip of our empire, towards Yuki’s sub-region. He has expanded into your territory, but his forces are moving in the other direction more ravenously.”
He groaned, leaning so far back in the governor’s space leather chair that it was a wonder he hadn’t already fallen over. “Why did my uncle make me do this instead of Yuki?! It should’ve been her responsibility to deal with him!”
“Would you rather refuse him, my prince?”
“I know, I know. Alright… any clue on how I should go about capturing him?”
I spoke up, “If we can get an inside source, some gladiator close to Pukcoläsic, maybe we can learn where he’s going, catch up to him, and snag him before he knows what hit him.”
The pale-skinned teacher was leaning back on a stool, sucking a pen, nodding slowly.
“How exactly will we do that?”
“Long-range scouters will be able to pick up on the stronger gladiators. If we can capture one of them, perhaps they can lead us to Pukcoläsic.”
“Why not use the scouters to find Pukcoläsic?”
I nearly rolled my eyes. The fire in his voice was all pride. Why did every warrior have to be like that? “We’ll get more information abou–”
With a screech, the window shattered into a million pieces. A slimy, green-bellied creature scurried inside, making an ear-tickling clicking noise. Its cone-like mouth fell open from three flaps, and out shot a dozen tendril-like tongues, each forked at the tip. The bug-like animal had wings, and it walked on six legs. Within two seconds, it had thoroughly destroyed Natsumiko’s office, tearing bookshelves down, upending the desk, shredding carpet, and bashing holes in the walls with its slender stick-like legs.
Barely a moment had gone by before the beast threw itself at Prince Kuriza. Epikail and Sapras flung themselves away in fear. The Cuvah was already flying with a boot out towards the thing. Being closer to the action, I instinctively raised my arms, creating an energy barrier between us and the oversized bug. But just like the window, it burst through that without much effort.
I don’t know why I felt so panicked in the moment. Kuriza was far more powerful and agile than I was. He didn’t need my help to dodge it. In the act of pushing through my energy, the creature’s pace had slowed ever so; then came Kracchus’ boot to impact right against the bug’s tail spike. It flew–or perhaps I should describe it as tumbling, for the tubby brown-shelled creature wasn’t the most graceful in flight–directly into the far wall, splitting it and leaving a gaping hole for us to peer out at the blue-leaf forest beyond.
It cried out, clicking queerly as it shot up from the treetops. It flew itself through the hole it had been shot out, causing the walls to collapse around it, covering it in a cloud of dust, briefly stunning it
“The hell is that thing?! Sapras! Is it native?”
The robed man cowered over a twisted chair in the corner, his hands shaking. “I-I don’t know, Admiral… Kill it before it gets any closer!”
The beast had appeared again from the rubble, its tendril tongues shooting out and wrapping around Kracchus’ forearm like wet rope. He tugged a bit, and then a bit more, and when the bug stumbled towards him, he pounded it hard in the mouth area (if it could be called that) of tongues and flaps and slime and teeth. It seemed to be sizzling when it flew back, raised its head, and let out a strange cry. It then spat a gooey brown substance that I had at first thought was blood, but when it landed over the walls and desk and began melting them, we realized collectively what we had before us.
“Finish it, Kracchus! Don’t let it get away!” I shouted.
With ruthless efficiency, the admiral front-flipped over to the creature again, this time creating a ki sword and cutting its legs off one by one as it attempted to parry him. Greenish-black blood flew in all directions. Poor Epikail was sprayed by one severed leg and went to the floor muttering obscenities. Its clicking noises grew more urgent, and once again it shot tendrils of tongues at Kracchus. This time, however, he did not catch them, but burnt them with his sword.
Another gob of acid came flying out of the creature’s alien maw; Kracchus coolly vaporized all of it with a single red energy ball. Seeing itself cornered, beaten, and bleeding out, it attempted to throw itself at Kracchus, wide-eyed and desperate, but all it managed to do was land on his sword.
In the end, it only let out a squeak. That surprised me most of all.
There was no time to gawk, however. My duties were as ingrained in me as breathing and blinking. “Are you okay, my lord? Did it touch you?”
“I’m fine, Lingon,” the boy yawned, leaning back in his chair again. He seemed more bemused than anything else.
“What was that thing?”
Sapras was no longer shaking. He was such a fine man when danger wasn’t present. “It’s not native… I’ve never seen anything like it. Let me take it back to the ship. We’ll run tests on it, cross-check its DNA in the database. I’m sure someone must have run into one of these nasty buggers before.”
“It went for the prince, Sapras. Only after we defended did its focus shift…”
“Duly noted. May I return to the ship?”
“No.” Prince Kuriza jumped up from the chair suddenly. “Get the info about Pukcoläsic’s companions to Kracchus and Lingon first. They’ll be leaving for the disputed territory at once.”
“My lord?”
“We’re going with your idea, Lingon. Find and capture one of the rogue gladiators, and force them to take us to Pukcoläsic. It doesn’t matter how you do it. Just do it. Uncle Icer promised to teach me how to transform into that golden form if I clear my region of pirates. I can’t wait! Go! Go on then!”
I glanced at Kracchus; he shrugged. Bug blood coated the walls in wet mud-green smears. I felt a little bad. Governor Natsumiko hadn’t asked for any of this. Oh well. Maybe cleaning up this room would give her something to do.
Just as we were leaving, Sapras on our heels, the governor returned with an escort, having heard the commotion. “What the… Lord Kuriza?! What’s going on in here?!”
Her voice rose high in emotion. We rounded the corner, hearing no more. “Sapras, what do you know about Pukcoläsic’s followers? Any of them willing to talk?”
“They’re gladiators. You may either bribe them or threaten them. I suggest the latter, as you should both be as strong as any one of them. The group my spies have been following work as Pukcoläsic’s bodyguards and his captains. They are expanding his territory faster than he is himself. Word has it that Pukcoläsic has been feasting and partying and getting drunk these past few weeks instead of doing the dirty work himself. It’ll make finding him easier. His lackeys are sure to be annoyed by his behavior. They should be willing to give him up.”
We came to the hangar bay. Two pods were already being prepared for us by a horde of white-furred space-badgers. “Let’s get right to it then. You have any idea where to send us?”
“The border of the disputed territories should be good enough,” the historian said vaguely. “I’ll have specifics for you soon enough. I’ll send the last known picture of Pukcoläsic and his gang to your pods. It will take you a few days before you reach the territory, so look these over. Any one of the gladiators seen in that photo could be your target. Stay sharp.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t get sidetracked with that bug,” Kracchus warned him. “Your intel better stay sharp as long as we’re out there.”
“I would never put your lives in jeopardy, Admiral. Anything you need, contact me on channel 14.”
“You got it, Sapras.”
The furry biped broke off from us, finding his pod, kicking aside the sniveling space-badgers as he hurriedly got inside. His impatience was palpable.
“Good luck out there, Lingon. And be careful. Gladiators are not to be trusted.”
“Tell that to Lord Kuriza,” I sighed. “That creature, whatever it was, was after him. Find out what it was… who sent it, if you can. I’m not worried about Pukcoläsic. But what happened earlier–that cannot happen again.”
He smiled, his wrinkles parting like a flower blooming. “Of course, Commander. I will do what I can.”
I’m sure he would. He’s the one compiling all of these accounts, so that’s all I’ll say.
The two of us together again, out on the fringes of space, reminded me of that final bout between Icer and Kuriza all those months ago that ended the great civil war. Today we would not fail as we had back then. The spies had come through. We had arrived on Planet Frieza 041, a snowy border world manned by little more than a skeleton crew of fewer than twelve thousand, a little more than two hours ago. The group of former Galactrix gladiators who were on swift approach would have decimated them if not for us.
There were two hundred of them, or so. I don’t remember precisely. We’d learned from our intel that they had been taking over the planets they had been assaulting, not simply razing them and moving on. Most of them had power levels between ten and fifteen thousand, so they would easily wipe out the two thousand or so defenders who guarded this outpost. Their leader’s power was over fifty thousand. Not bad for a gladiator. His name was Griele, and he was a purple-scaled fishy-faced alien. Supposedly the only member of his species in this group of gladiators.
They had to know we had scouters. Three dozen scouts punched their way through soot-grey clouds, their energy blasts leading them down to the outskirts of Topiataran City. This had to look real, so we could make sure to lure them in. So we placed several hundred workers (none of our two thousand or so defenders with decent power levels) out there to be vaporized in the vanguard’s charge. They served their role admirably.
The gladiators landed in the craters they had wrought, blasting their way deeper into the city. Kracchus and I held our position out on the pod landing pads, for we had been unsure where the main force would strike first. Yet even as the scouts pushed into Topiataran, we did not move. We didn’t want to spook the rest. We didn’t have to wait too long, for even then, like space rats attracted to fresh meat, the rest of the gladiators appeared in the sky, ravenously approaching us. This was all of them. In their hands glowed energy of every color. He looked to me, nodding once.
I shot off down the snow-clad road, flying as fast as I could to the scouts, all the while keeping my eyes on the sky. Kracchus had approached Captain Ginyu’s power level since he had started training with Kuriza–that much I knew. If he could stop all of them up there, I did not know. All I knew was that I could not. Old as I had become, I was still a respectable warrior, mind you. I had to remain in top shape to remain as Prince Kuriza’s bodyguard. It would be neglectful of me to let my body go. Even so, I was not, nor had I ever been, nearly as strong as Captain Ginyu. This was a task best left to Kracchus.
We hadn’t been entirely sure if this group had any scouters or not. Pukcoläsic had been spotted wearing one, but not all of his followers were as clever as him. This ploy had been devised with the worst-case scenario in mind–that they indeed possessed scouters. This planet would bleed for Kracchus’ plan.
We were both reading Griele’s power level, which was the only one above twenty thousand amongst them. He was up in the group charging down from the sky. That meant I could do what I wished to the scouts.
A burst of reddish light launched up at the incoming attackers, splitting off into hundreds of beams of light like the shattering of glass. Explosions popped through the air, splitting windows. I flipped onto my stomach again, nearly flying into a fleeing soldier, half of his armor blown off, his fur singed black. Not making eye-contact with me, he limped by as fast as he could. Ahead, a building exploded; a team of gladiators, all of them wearing airtight suits, jumped through the dust and rubble, and noticed me, their heads turning to one another in what I could only assume was eagerness.
A pair of crimson eye beams cut them to pieces. They didn’t so much as get the chance to raise their fists. To my left, a wall collapsed, another building tumbling over soon after, and there they were. Those ones managed to fire a few of their energy attacks at me before I reached them, but they were torn apart just as easily as the others. And yet, I was already feeling my strength begin to fade. It had been years since I’d been in open combat, and never against so many at once with such high power levels. Flying higher, using my scouter to track the rest, I led them to me. They clearly weren’t wearing scouters. I may be no Ginyu, but I’m damn stronger than ten thousand. In smaller groups of five or six, it was easier for me to manage to raise my power level high enough to take them out in a single attack. The fools fell for it every time.
Above me, I tracked fewer than half a dozen foreign power levels remaining. Kracchus had made quick work of them. Perhaps he was stronger than I had given him credit for. Pivoting in midair, I shot up at the remaining power signatures, as Kracchus had done just moments before me, his dark red aura cloaking him. I had always thought it funny that we shared the same aura color.
Griele’s power was still up there. His was approaching forty-eight thousand, making it impossible to miss. Kracchus must have held back on his attack so as to allow someone of that space trout’s strength to survive while simultaneously killing all the rest. That’s not to say he entirely succeeded–there were a few stragglers, but a couple finger beams took care of them.
Kracchus reached him before I did. Without wasting time, he clubbed the gladiator over the head, sending him flying down into a tower, crashing through it in a dusty explosion. He landed in the wreckage, his arms folded. By the time I got there, the gladiator was getting to his feet. This was not going as cleanly as I had hoped.
Getting to his feet, Griele was punished by a blow to the cheek. He slid across the rubble. Before he could stand, Kracchus put his boot to the man’s chest, stopping him in place. By the time I arrived, the admiral had subdued him. The snow was evaporating around us as I landed.
“You bastard,” Griele shouted, throwing a punch to gain distance from Kracchus. Alas that it did not work. The admiral caught his fist, twisted it around, and threw him off into the snow.
“My offer to you is simple: take us to Pukcoläsic and you’ll be spared. Try to resist, and I’ll kill you.” Standing over the fallen soldier, the Cuvah made no attempt to hide his disdain.
“I would neve–”
He spun-kicked the alien in the mouth. “Don’t test my patience. You have already committed terrible deeds against our empire. If you do not take this mercy at its face value, that’s it for you. Are you really going to go out like that?”
Snow was falling lightly around us. I saw the range of emotions on his face. It didn’t matter. He was dead unless he accepted. He knew that. I knew that. All of us were keenly aware of the situation at hand. Smoke billowing behind us, Kracchus grabbed the gladiator by the throat, bringing him to the frost-bitten air.
“Are you?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll take you to him. But I want a promise–a guarantee–that I’m safe. I won’t do anything for you if that’s not guaranteed.”
“Whatever you say, gladiator. It’s a guarantee. We won’t kill you,” I said. “Now you need to shut up and quit whining. You’re our prisoner. You don’t make demands of us. We’ll find another captain if we need to.”
He looked to me with desperation and hatred, and though I did not trust him, I pitied him to a small degree. It was not my place to question Kracchus, but perhaps that was for the best. This gladiator was playing me. When I recognized that, all compassion faded.
Kracchus dropped him. “If you change your mind, just say the word, and I’ll snap your neck. Otherwise, your assault is over.”
He looked not to me nor the furry admiral. Craters dotted the landscape. Smoke was rising from a few of the yet-intact buildings. I must say, it was remarkable to see how quickly he abandoned his orders. I never trust a man so weak, so willing to compromise. Such people deserve to be vaporized for their arrogance and laziness.
“What do you want?”
“Here’s the deal,” said Kracchus, raising a palm, and enwrapping him in a rope of golden ki. “You are going to take Lord Kuriza and us to meet with Pukcoläsic. You won’t tell him that we’re coming beforehand. How does that sound?”
“And what if I refuse?”
I couldn’t help myself. “Are you a captain or a dumbass?”
His sneer was barely concealed in his scales.
Kracchus had not so much as moved a muscle. “Do we have an understanding?”
To his credit, the gladiator didn’t milk the moment.
“As long as I live…”
Kracchus looked to me. It was hard not to crack a smile. The fool had no idea what he was dealing with. That was emblematic of the entire operation, though. Pukco and the rest of his gang really didn’t understand what they had gotten themselves into. We were not about to pity them–they had done this to themselves. There would be consequences for what they had done. It was just a shame (or perhaps a fortune) they were all so damn stupid.
We met them at Maulxe, Nyare, the capital of the planet. Governor Aranya hosted us in her tower, which rose above all the others in the city. The imperial saucer parked on the main landing pad. Lord Kuriza and the rest of his host were already inside. It was an odd feeling not to be with them. It had been my duty to protect the boy for many years, and yet, as Arcosians aged much slower than many other species, I had grown old since becoming his bodyguard, whereas he had not quite aged as much as I had expected. I suppose it didn’t matter. He no longer needed me. My sense of obligation had never changed, even knowing that.
It was especially warm out, arid as any desert I had ever been to. On the landing pad, Sapras and a host of guards met us. The Admiral had nothing to say, walking past them with a haughty look. I waited until Kracchus had entered the door before asking my question.
“Who did you find?”
“A Heoli named Dhuak. He’s quite capable. One of the most experienced warriors in the entire empire.”
“Would Lord Icer consider it acceptable?”
“He would not know. But why would it matter?”
“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Sapras. Should he find out and be displeased by it, it will be your life. I won’t let him think it was the boy’s doing.”
“Dhuak has been working in Lord Kuriza’s territory for the past two years, defending the outer colonies from pirates. I am sure that the emperor will not mind if we re-purpose him. He has been in service to Lord Kuriza for some time, despite originally hailing from one of Lord Cooler’s planets.”
Peregari was where the Heolik were from–Planet Cooler 362. Its oceans of liquid oxygen made it one of the more valuable resource-worlds in the entire empire. I admit I didn’t know if what he said was true. Regardless, it would not be my fault if it was not. I knew the Golden Emperor would never touch me, lest he risk losing the support of Kuriza’s sub-region.
The historian bowed, withdrawing. “Please, come inside. Everyone is wait–”
“If you’re pulling a trick on me, it will backfire on you.”
I must say, his reaction was not at all what I had expected. “Excuse me?”
“I am the Prince’s bodyguard. You answer to me, not the other way around. Tell me right now where your loyalties lie.”
“To the empire.”
“Do not presume you can be as intellectually lazy around me as the others. I could kill you right now if I wanted.”
That made his guards uneasy. A few exchanged looks. Collectively, they fell into subtle defensive stances, as if that would threaten me. They knew who I was; they knew they had no chance.
He shrugged. “Try it.”
“I know as well as you do that this is bullshit. You’re merely trying to pit Kuriza against Icer. I don’t know why.”
I will never forget how he approached me on the landing pad, a smile extended towards me. “It’s not like that,” he said, his voice rising high. “Your wild notions are not based on fact.”
“We shall see.”
I did not wait for him, leaving him and his guards behind on the landing pad. Inside, a small host had gathered in the governor’s office. It was a modest office, unlike that of Planet Frieza 057, with grey stone walls bereft of paintings or ornamentation, a grey stone floor covered in exotically-colored carpets, and a simple wooden desk behind which the Nyarin governor sat. The prince was sitting comfortably in his egg-shaped hover pod, a crimson cape pulled around his chest like a blanket. With him was his ever aging and ever loyal teacher, Epikail, the frog-faced Fusil, and the steadfast Boisenberry. Kracchus was there too. Sapras followed me in, betraying no hint of emotion as he closed the door behind him.
“Tell me, Kracchus, how did it go on 041?”
“We captured one of the captains. He’s agreed to take us to Pukcoläsic himself, in exchange for his life.”
“He will take us to the gladiator, and then he will die,” the boy replied sweetly. “If they think they can survive their coup attempt, they are extremely mistaken. Only Pukco. The rest of the gladiators will be reduced to stardust.”
“As you command, my lord.”
The Cuvah pressed a fist to his chest. “I will go there myself, and make him kneel before me, for all the universe to witness. Then his followers will die, and he will learn the price of disobedience.”
“Why not kill him too, my lord?” asked the froggy Commander.
“He’s an excellent warrior, and will do me more use than harm, so long as he knows his place. The rest have no use to me.”
“With all due respect, my prince, the planets they have taken over will need to be repopulated.”
“Pukco’s rebellion has taken place in my cousin’s region. Yet, it was I whom Uncle Icer instructed to deal with this problem. I will not do anything to strengthen Yuki’s position. We cannot be sure of her loyalty.”
The governor, having watched this conversation unfold with a patient gaze, leaned in, smiling lightly, shaking her head. “Should the emperor learn of your treacherous ambition, my lord, he would execute you himself.”
“War is costly. He cannot expect any of Pukco’s gang to survive.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That might be true, but he will soon learn of your plan to keep the gladiator alive.”
“I do not care about that! I have every right to do with Pukcoläsic as I see fit.”
We were not supposed to stare at her mechanical eyes. It was difficult not to. I’d never seen anyone with those before. The Surgeon must have done a number on her.
“And so you’ll keep him alive to serve you? Do you really believe he would?”
“That will be your job,” the boy said. “You’re going to lead my Katchiguri Force, and keep all of them in line.”
“I am, am I? This is news to me, Kuriza.”
“Why do you think we came here? You’re stronger than any other officer in my empire.”
“Because you forced me to train with you all those years ago. It’s been a while though. I’ve probably lost half a step since you were last here.”
The boy was beaming, unable to hide his adoration. “Well, then, perhaps it would be best if you did leave here for a while. You’re growing soft, Aranya.”
She was trying hard not to show her enthusiasm. Even though this world was her homeworld, being stuck on it all the time must have gotten boring. She let her professionalism slip in that moment. “Who else is on the team?”
He looked to Kracchus, who fell to a knee, bowing his head. I had no clue whom he had picked, but once he began talking, I realized how stupid I’d been. “I would be honored to serve you, my prince. My strength might not equal the gladatior’s or even the governor’s, but I can always get stronger, especially if I were to train with either of them. They’d make for fine teammates.” He glanced at her. “You are the foremost warrior in Kuriza’s empire. I am probably the second-strongest. We could work well together.”
“That may be so. You would be giving up your titles, however. Would you not prefer to be the boy’s admiral? Who is there to replace you?”
“I could ask the same of you,” Kracchus retorted. “As for me, the remaining members of his inner circle are fully capable of giving him good and decent counsel. And if I may be blunt, governor, what does it matter if I command a fleet of five hundred ships, if even a moderately-powerful enemy such as Pukcoläsic could wipe them all out without breaking a sweat? What use is it to be lord over space rats, even if there are billions of them?”
“A fair point. I agree. We could better serve the empire with our strength.”
Kuriza clambered out of his hover pod, approaching the desk. “Should you accept, I’ll train with you too. I don’t want any weaklings on my Katchiguri Force, slandering my name with their incompetence. Come on, what do you say? It’ll be like old times, Aranya.”
She took a few moments to respond. “Alright, I’m in.”
“Excellent! So we have our first two members!”
Kracchus fell to a knee again. “As always, Lord Kuriza, I am yours to command. I still remember years back, during the Nikkarin War, when you were captured by space-badgers. Vermin that they were, I was surprised to find you hanging from that wall in your father’s room, being used as a dartboard by them. Knowing what I know now, after sparring with you…”
The boy raised a finger in the air to quiet them. “Ah, yes. That was a bad one. My memories of the event are hazy at best. They gave me Nhuroggoc. I’d never had Nhuroggoc before. I didn’t know what was going on. They did things to me,” he said, looking around the room. Kuriza had a way of making things awkward when there was no need for such. “I wish I remembered it all. I think they gave me some NTT.”
The way she was smiling said a lot. I had a good feeling that she would be loyal, and strong as she was, decorated as she was, this was a far better match for the prince than Captain Capontari. He had often spoken fondly of Aranya, but I had never put as much stock in his boyish fancies as I should have. Now it was clear that he was entirely smitten with her.
“Nice. That’s some rare contraband. Tend to find that stuff more often in far northern regions than you do down here.”
“I would recommend never consuming Ni Tikei Tahl, my lord,” Sapras said dryly. “Recurring use can produce long-term hallucinogenic effects, affecting your ability to properly perceive reality.”
“That’s not all it does,” the Nyarin shot back. “But I don’t take it that someone snobbish as yourself has ever done it before.”
“On the contrary,” replied Sapras, “I have had intimate experiences with NTT, though, not for several decades.”
“That’s contraband. Lord Kuriza could hang you for that,” I said.
Calm as ever, the historian cracked a smile. Kracchus looked back to me, and I was not sure if he was distressed or entertained. “Forgive me for intruding, my lord. I was just seeking to give you proper counsel.”
“He’s right, you know,” old Epikail said.
“I thank you both for your loyalty,” the boy replied, bowing politely. “In the meantime, Lingon needs to reveal whom he has found for the Katchiguri Force. We cannot depart to Pukco’s location until the squad has been assembled, after all. I will not be some petty charlatan. If he is to join us, we will need the rest of the team there to meet him, to show him our best offer.”
I felt a funny feeling deep inside. “His name is Dhuak. He’s currently patrolling the northern border of our empire, fighting off space pirates and rebel governors alike.
“Accommodations will have to be made, my lord. It will take him more than a year to get here in a space pod.”
“Send Winter’s Dawn if you need to. Just get him here as soon as possible.”
“If he uses your own ship, my lord, it will take no more than two weeks for him to get here.” Lord Kuriza was pleased by that, though he remained stoic, for that is what all good leaders should do. Bowing, the historian glided out of the room.
“He’s strong, isn’t he?”
“One of the strongest in your empire, my prince. I confess, I’ve never met him before. I don’t think he’d match Kracchus in a fight, or Governor Aranya for that matter, either…”
“She’s not governor of Nyare any longer. She’s to be my Captain.”
The blue-furred feline said in a mocking tone, “You honor me with this demotion, Kuriza.”
Few others would have gotten away calling him nakedly by his name.
“Not quite. As Captain Ginyu would say, it’s not in the name, but in the style. You’ll become my second-in-command. Kracchus will take up the vice-captain role, making him third in command of my empire.”
“You honor me,” the former admiral grunted, falling to a knee again, the poor fellow needing to kneel so much today.
Aranya waited a moment before following up, her mechanical eyes spinning unnaturally as she seemingly looked over every inch of the inside of her office in a fraction of a second. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. There was that childish glee I had seen all those years ago. Not since he had defeated Yuki in the field had the young Arcosian been this happy. And yet, that felt like it had been almost a lifetime ago, at this point.
Hail and Polaria were gone, and Kuriza had become Icer’s heir. Funny how things change over time. That Ctha’Naka rebellion had been a blessing in disguise, though to even mention it aloud could have been the end of me. Kuriza was in a fortunate spot, being the heir. Things were going well.
“Alright, very good, Lingon,” the boy said, returning to his hover pod. “We’ll stay here until Dhuak arrives. I’ll take my Katchiguri Force to Pukcoläsic’s lair. Lingon will come along as well. The rest of you stay here.” He gave us a mischievous grin. “We cannot delay too long; I cannot disappoint my uncle. He trusted me to deal with this threat quickly. And we shall–just not as quickly as he or my cousin would like.”
I was relieved, and I don’t know if I would say that the boy was the most charismatic leader, but he was stronger than just about anyone, and in the end, that’s all that truly matters, isn’t it? Pukco was about to find that out the hard way.
It was just over a week before the third member of the Katchiguri Force arrived. Kuriza, Aranya, and Kracchus spent much of that time training, sometimes off-planet so as to not make too much of a mess. Sapras and myself interrogated the prisoner, learning much about Pukcoläsic’s forces and strategy. There were perhaps eight thousand of them of varying power levels, akin to elite garrison soldiers, but nothing compared to the might of the young lord and his team. He also confirmed the rumor that Pukcoläsic had destroyed Tuhak Ecli and its surrounding moons, thus silencing the Galactrix Arena’s long run forever.
In addition, three more of Yuki’s outposts had been taken by the gladiators. We were lucky it was not more than that, as if we were too careless here, we were sure to rouse the suspicion of not only her, but her grand uncle. That was the last thing we wanted to do.
“Blue fur?” The Nyarin said to him when he knelt before her. “Don’t you think that’s overkill?”
“Can’t help the way I was born, Captain. If you want, I could dye it something more reasonable… perhaps orange?”
She laughed softly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“So where are we off to first, captain? If I’m not being too bold.”
That was when he finally stepped forward to speak, his crimson cape glowing brilliantly in the dying light of day. “To acquire your force’s fourth member. Pukcoläsic is on Planet Nitro 086, supposedly getting himself and his crew horribly drunk off the outpost’s reserves. I’m going there to challenge him to a duel. Once he’s defeated, I will show him mercy, and he will join us. Or maybe he’ll be an idiot and force me to kill him. I don’t know for certain.”
“You sure that’s wise, my lord?” the Heoli asked. “With respect, I’m not sure we can trust any of them… look what they’re doing to our planets.”
“Not ours–my cousin’s.”
“Right.”
The boy inhaled loudly. “Captain Aranya and myself have agreed to add Pukco to your team, unless he chooses death. It doesn’t matter who your teammates are. You will serve your captain loyally, do you understand me?”
“Of course, my lord. Apologies. I didn’t mean to overstep my station.”
“See that it does not happen again.”
He was harsh on Dhuak, but it needed to be done. He had been working alone for a long time, and it appeared he had grown somewhat rough around the edges. That would have to be corrected. For my sake, I hope he didn’t act out again. It was I who had vouched for him, I who had put my honor on the line for him. The least he could do was show us all a little respect.
We returned to the Winter’s Dawn, where Sapras and the rest of the crew were waiting. Commander Fusil was holding the energy-cuffed Griele, who was being kept on his knees, his arms tied behind his back. The boy proudly marched to his chair, past the prisoner, his three-member Katchiguri Force trailing behind.
I was beginning to wonder if there would be a fifth member of this team, or, if as I had long suspected, Kuriza considered himself that member–just as he had with the Ginyu Force. To be fair to him, though, Guldo was hardly a member of that band of mercs. His power level was less than a third of the size of any of the other members. And he was so out of shape that he had begun disgracing the force’s uniform with his slovenly attitude. Kuriza had learned much from them–what worked and what did not. He would not be making the same mistakes with his own elite team.
The five of us and the prisoner went to Planet Nitro 086, leaving everyone behind on the edge of the solar system. It would have been preferable had they not known we were coming, but our powers were amongst the elite in the entire Planet Trade Organization, and masking them was just not possible. They would know we were coming if they were even moderately intelligent. We had to concede we just did not know one way or another.
We wore our scouters, which were indicating that around 400 individuals were living on the planet. About three quarters of them didn’t have a power level above ten thousand. There was, unmistakably, only a single power level that was too high for our scouters to read. They were grouped together inside the main outpost of the planet, located on an island south of the equator. We were told not to touch them, yet (that was, unless they moved on us first).
Breaking through the ceiling, Aranya leading, and me bringing up the rear, we descended in a shadow-flash, stirring the mostly piss-drunk gladiators inside to their feet. I could feel it in the air–the surprise and anger they were collectively feeling. This was the great feasting hall of hundreds of Planet Trade Organization soldiers who had, at one time, lived here. Now, it had been reduced to a hideous den of drunk space rats; decay was rampantly spreading.
They were roused upon our entrance, though only barely. I don’t think they understood what was going on until the boy spoke.
“Good morning!” Lord Kuriza shouted upon his landing, extending his arms to either side.
“The fuck you want, pissant?” some drunk gladiator shouted from the corner.
A flash of crimson silenced him good.
“Who goes there?” said a hairless yellow man whom I quickly realized was none other than Pukcoläsic himself. Sculpted like a god, the hairless warrior was nonetheless drunk off his ass, barely able to get to his feet, clutching a bottle of what looked like Leima Bivo in one hand.
“I am Lord Kuriza,” the boy replied haughtily, “and you’re invading my empire. I won’t let you get away with that. Come on, put ‘em up! I won’t go easy on you!”
The gladiator couldn’t help but giggle as he stumbled to his feet, approaching us. He wasn’t wearing a scouter. If he had ever truly possessed one, we would never know. Given how drunk he and his comrades were, it was likely they were just being sloppy about this whole engagement. They had hit the mother lode and were overwhelmed by its sheer volume. “Knew you’d come.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Not a clue, kid.”
“That’s unfortunate for you. Anyways, I challenge you to a duel. The winner will gain domain over all of the other’s planets.”
He took a swig of the stuff, but it didn’t stain his teeth, so it had to be some kind of wine. “Doesn’t seem to do me any good to accept.”
“Are you a coward?!” I said suddenly, finding myself operating almost beyond my own station. I don’t know why I went for it. “Are you afraid of losing? The mighty Pukcoläsic’s scared of a child? You’re a joke!”
He seethed, baring his teeth. “Ain’t afraid of shit.”
“Then you have nothing to lose. Go on, or he’ll humiliate you.”
The gold-skinned alien looked around, wild and drunk, and there were so many of his fellow gladiators there to witness it. This was going exactly as planned. “I already said I ain’t afraid of shit. You’re nothing to me, kid.”
Kuriza raised a hand to his mouth to hide his own laughter.
“What’s so funny, you brat?! You should be careful. You wouldn’t want me to get angry and do something really rash.”
“Yes I would, honest. You don’t frighten me. You’re just gladiator vermin, nothing more.”
With the look of someone criminally offended, he roared, “Oh, I’ll make you bleed for that!”
The boy tore off his cape, throwing it to me, and stepped forward. “Gladly.”
The gladiator was wobbling; only half a dozen of his comrades were actively watching. Most of them had fallen back asleep; a few were drinking, a few were pissing, and more than one was looking for food in this stale, urine-soaked room (there was not much that wasn’t moldy as far as I could see). I wondered where all the whores were, as they certainly hadn’t come here to entertain one another. Taking that into account, it was nice to see that Pukco had enough self-respect to challenge the boy, despite the quality of his audience.
“I’m the Galactrix Champion, kid. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. Don’t get mad if I accidentally kill you.”
“How about this: if you lose, you will join my Katchiguri Force–see?” He gestured to the three of them standing behind him, all striking obnoxious poses. “Or I’ll kill you.”
“I thought this was just about the planets.”
“It’s not.”
“Whatever then. Sure. But if you lose, I’ll skin you alive.”
“Deal.”
“I’m not losing to you,” the serpentine gladiator said, shaking his head, spitting to the side, and cracking his knuckles.
That was when Kuriza shot himself like a rocket at Pukcoläsic. Shattering the gladiator’s hastily-raised block, he took him with a left hook, staggering the man back. Pukco countered with an explosive wave, shooting into the air, and coming down on Kuriza with a front flip kick. The boy caught him by the ankle, slamming him down to the ground before throwing him aside. The gladiator caught himself in midair, landing on his heels with a back flip, and at once fired a swarm of green ki blasts at the boy. All it took from Kuriza was a half-shield of ki to absorb the attacks.
He hadn’t so much as broken a sweat. Pride welled up in my throat. This kid was something else. One day he would be even stronger than his grand uncle, I knew.
Pukcoläsic lunged forth, breaking through the grey-blue energy shield with a superman punch. The boy sidestepped him, whacking him on the back of the head with his tail, sending him flying into a step-up in the floor. Before the gladiator could rise, Kuriza teleported above him, coming down on his back with a heel kick.
A murmur of shock rippled through the hall. Those who were conscious enough to understand what was going on looked distraught. They knew their party was over. It was done. To his credit, the gladiator would not go down without a fight.
Another explosive wave, green as the boy’s eyes, flared up, but the boy had already disappeared. When the lights dimmed to normal, he teleported again back in place, wrapping his tail around Pukco’s neck and slamming his forehead three times into the stone step. Then, he cast the gladiator aside with a dropkick and returned to us.
“My cape, Lingon.”
I threw it to him. He caught it awkwardly, almost losing it.
A crimson finger beam was growing in front of the boy’s right index finger. He pointed it at Pukcoläsic, who was struggling to stand, his team of gladiators whispering amongst themselves and slowly congregating behind him. They were waking each other up, so that meant it was really serious. Kuriza allowed them to do so, which I thought was especially cruel, but not unearned. They had done this to themselves.
“Will you join me, or do you wish to die?” the boy asked him. “Make your choice.”
He faltered, unsure of what to say. The boy nodded, and in a flash, Aranya, Dhuak, and Kracchus leapt into the air, slicing through Pukco’s forces with energy and their fists before he could so much as catch his breath. Landing behind him before the corpses dropped, the Katchiguri Force fell into their attack stances in expectation. The yellow-skinned gladiator did not move, a smile forming on his bloody lips.
“Alright then.”
“Call all of your fellow gladiators back to this planet,” I said, as was commanded of me.
“What?! Why?!”
“They will pay for your misdeeds. If you allow even a single team to escape the consequences of their rampaging, we will execute you in their stead.”
“He’s right, you know,” said the boy in a childish voice. “That is the price of rebellion.”
Furrowing his brow, the alien’s eyes grew sad. Still, he tried. “Let them live. They could serve you the same as I will.”
I had been told not to back down, and so I shook my head. “I think not. You’re in no position to ask anything of us. You’ve already damaged dozens of our planets. This is the price you will pay. Either their lives or your own. You choose.”
He looked away, and down, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of revulsion rising in my stomach. We all knew what he’d say. Why did he have to make a game of it? It certainly was not for their sakes. Was it for the sake of his own pride? I had no idea. Either way, in the end, the call was made, and within two weeks, every last one of his gladiators had returned to Planet Nitro 086 to receive justice.
Chapter VI: Uoto Calling[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Ntalou |
| Position: | Emissary |
| Date of account: | July 31, Age 767 (first and second scenes) August 4, Age 767 (third scene) August 27, Age 767 (fourth scene) |
The Uo-Gal-Norrim, U’nabi San, Sao-Il-Borahk, and even my own Uo-Sic-An were no more. I cannot say I wept for anyone who had been part of those gangs, least of all my boss, Sharlyke. They had gotten what was coming to them, as far as I was concerned. Bael had been a genocidal monster, but at least he had been honest about what he was. The ganglords would have killed just as many if not more of their own people had their planned rebellion come to fruition.
Almost the entire population had been lost the day Bael had fired upon Uoto. Every last city had been destroyed in the orbital bombardment, from Uobat to Okubahka. Not even a year had passed since that awful day. Repairs were a long ways off. Without a fleet to protect the planet or bring supplies, the people of Uoto were not going to be able to rebuild its cities soon. That much became clear to me within an hour of touching down.
My planet bled from a deep wound that day. There were not many of us left now. We all knew, I think, in our bones, that our next play would be our last if we did not execute it properly. Only Graliakh, son of Graelikh, of the major gang lords, had survived Bael’s bombardment. Figured, didn’t it? He ruled over most of the survivors. Of course, defectors were to be expected, but they were of little bother, for at present, they had to be more worried about finding food than starting tribal fights.
When I returned to Uoto, I had found him and the others in a makeshift camp called Urarosh. I remember walking through the muddy streets of that refuge town, taken aback by the awful state of things. Nearly everybody was living in squalor. So few of the Uttovelm had survived; many of those who had were barely clinging to life. Men and women, gaunt as I had ever seen members of my own species, were crouching in tents, tired eyes following me as I made my way through. Everyone was dirty, and they hardly cared. The place reeked more than usual. There was garbage everywhere.
We Uttovelm were generally a plump species, so to see this many emaciated people around, while I was well-fed and content, cut at me. I hadn’t known it was this bad. One young girl walked past me on the street, her eyes trained upon me. I called to her, but she said nothing in reply, not reacting in the slightest when I tried again. She moved with a sickly slowness that made me uncomfortable.
There was a deathly silence in town. It was as if everyone was still shell-shocked from what Bael had done, as if this planet truly had died that day, and what lay before me were only the festering and decaying remnants, soon to be picked clean by the space vultures.
Disheartened, I found my way at the end of the road, where a gated building lay with cracks and holes in the walls, all the windows shattered and replaced by wooden boards and its stone surface charred black in most places (it was otherwise supposed to be grey-blue). This was Graliakh’s lair.
Two of his underlings were waiting for me at the gate. They introduced themselves (the tall one was Hamy, and the little one was Bailu), and escorted me inside. More of his gang lurked therein. They stared at me openly–not that I was a looker, or anything–so I kept my head down. Judging from what I had seen outside, it was unlikely that there were enough whores for all of his men. From all that time I had spent in Bael’s prison, I had grown accustomed to what men were capable of doing in times of primal desperation. It was not any prettier with my own kind.
There was power inside, much to my surprise. They wore scouters. Some of their armor was cracked, and some of them had scars, but his gang had healed up for the most part. I briefly considered trying to convince him to send a strike team to Faeri to punish Bael’s followers. Even if the man himself had died (it was a shame he hadn’t been allowed to suffer), they could yet exact some form of revenge. He had a family… that much I had gathered in my time on Faeri. I did not know the specifics. That data had to be accessible, if we had any imperial computers left on the planet. Bael’s family could be taken out. They had to be. It was the least we could do.
It was only a passing thought. By the time Bailu returned with Graliakh, I had discarded it. When he saw that it was truly me, he beckoned me to follow him. We went into a smaller room, an office of sorts, just the two of us, his trusted guards posting themselves outside the door. It was darker inside, with only one semi-flickering light. The gang lord poured himself a shot of Nyarin gin and asked me if I wanted one, but I declined as politely as I could. Still felt as if he were offended by that. I just wasn’t in the mood to get drunk yet. There was much work left to be done before I could relax.
He sat in his chair, exhaling noisily, and then took a long gulp from his cup. “Well, I am surprised. Didn’t think there was a chance you had lived, Ntalou. I guess some small fortunes are necessary to balance out all this shit we’ve gone through this past year. It’s good to see you. Where were you all this time?”
“Off-planet. I couldn’t stop it. Before the bombardment, Bael’s crew took me prisoner.”
The man gave me a sharp-eyed look. “What made them do that?”
I hadn’t planned on going this far today, but the sad state of affairs on my homeworld had crippled my ability to resist. I needed this man to trust me if there was to be any chance of restoring Uoto. “I went to meet with Bael, to try to stop him from his madness before he enacted it.”
“Lot of good that did.”
“I’m sorry. I tried to stop him.”
“Some effort was put in, no doubt, but I’m not sure it was enough. In the end, look where we are.”
“Sir–”
He raised a hand, quieting my protest. “Do you know how many of us are left, Ntalou?”
I shook my head. “Can’t be many.”
Having drained his cup, the Uttovelm took that moment to pour himself another. “Fewer than seven million–we don’t have an exact count. But Ntalou, that’s more than ninety-nine percent of us gone. There aren’t enough soldiers left to field an army against the Faereth. Not even enough to stave off poachers. You know we’ve been hit in recent weeks. They’ve been coming for those living in the outlands. I’ve sent my best warriors to patrol the borders of each town, but we are too few to stop every raid. Some of the confrontations have ended in skirmishes. There are many of them, and few of us, so they smartly pick off the guards one by one, leaving only the weak to be preyed upon.”
“Why not have everyone gather into a single city? We could protect them more easily that way.”
“Ah, moving them is not so simple. Not all recognize my authority. Some remain loyal to Sharlyke, some to other dead men, and some flock to new blood. Our population is fractured across the surface. Many were lost to starvation in the days following the Faereth’s treason. That remains a significant problem. Our food reserves are only modestly-stocked. Much of the land has been devastated, reducing our ability to farm. And, unless we’ve missed some hidden population somewhere, the Ualirs were rendered extinct in that attack. There went half of our food production. We’re hurting bad, Ntalou.”
I could see how all of this had drained him. He looked like an old man now, tired of being the one cursed with power in this shitty situation. He had grown bitter and sought relief in alcohol as a last resort. It was clear that our species was at risk if things did not change soon. The poaching could not go on. That much I knew. Letting that continue would lead to the swift demise of our population. Uoto was one of the border outposts in Emperor Icer’s territory, meaning it was prone to being raided by pirates. We needed relief, but I doubted any would be sent for several months at the earliest. We had to stop them ourselves, and at the next possible moment.
“I understand, sir. If you would like, I could join your force here and help you manage this crisis to the best of my ability.”
He took a drink, nodding silently as he gulped down more gin. “Do you know how many of us are left from that meeting the day of the attack?” I shook my head again. “You, me, Hamy, Bailu, and a few others I have patrolling the outlands. That’s it. Can you believe it, Ntalou? We were going to attack them, the best of us, the strongest of our race, and then the opportunity slipped through our fingers… I still don’t know how Bael knew.”
“Spies, no doubt. Some Uttovelm he paid that he also betrayed. I’m sure they were just as surprised as anyone else when he did what he did.”
“Mmm. Still can’t believe it, myself.”
I did not know exactly how to appease the man, having spent my life serving other men. We had had few interactions, so it was mostly by reputation that I operated now (he was prone to short-temperedness and rage, from what I had heard, though I must confess I had never seen any of that myself).
“There will be ways to get them back, sir. We do not need to risk open conflict. Assassins, bombs, poisons, and the like are always options. With that said, this is not our most pressing issue. The poaching must be stopped. We are on the northern border of Lord Icer’s region, sir, and thus cannot expect much help from the empire when it comes to space pirates. They must be killed now, lest they be allowed to ravage across the refugee towns unchecked.”
“They will be,” he replied instantaneously. “In fact, if they keep up their regular schedule, they’ll try again in about four hours.”
“Where?”
“The Uozoku camp southwest of here. Do not fear, Ntalou, I have scouts monitoring the situation.”
I can’t say I didn’t feel a little excited in my chest when I next spoke. I couldn’t help it. “Gather what soldiers you have and prepare them for an ambush then, sir. Eradicate these pirates once and for all, and show the rest of them off in space that Uoto is calling them for any further opportunities.”
“Yeah, we should. Alright, we’ll go. I can’t guarantee we’ll win, however. Our scouter readings so far have given off ratings of twelve thousand or higher. While my elites are certainly that strong, I don’t have even a hundred Uttovelm that powerful. The poachers are many. We don’t know their exact numbers.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” I said with a smile. “My power level’s approaching fifty thousand, sir. I should be able to help.”
Distinctly, I remember how he looked at me with surprise, as if he had never even considered my strength so much as a possibility. I catalogued that, but ignored it for now. His power level was lower than mine. That much was clear from how he had reacted. He had to know then that I would not let Uoto die. It was probably up to me, if it came down to a real fight. Graliakh was a capable gang lord, but he was not suited to be ruler of a bleeding world. He was not right for this. His inaction with the poachers had already proven that.
I realized then that I was going to have to solve this crisis. There was no one left who was capable except for me. That scared me. I knew I would have to think up something clever. This time, at least, fists would be able to settle the matter–or at least, I hoped. I had not met the poachers before, so I did not know how much of a threat they were. If they were beyond my ability to handle, we were, as a species, as good as extinct. I would not accept that. The poachers would die, and we would get our revenge on the Faereth. Perhaps the Uttovelm will go extinct in the distant future because of this. I did not know at the time. I could not control everything. I just knew that I could not let them get away with it. Rage drove me onwards.
I just had no idea, given our current situation, how we could do to those damn elves anything nearly as awful as what they had done to us.
Around us was a lonely expanse of desert pock-marked by craters of glass. These wounds were difficult for me to look upon. Things were falling apart that could not be put back together again, and it was a struggle for me to remain positive, to keep my thoughts trained on the poachers.
There were about twenty of us–Graliakh’s best soldiers, and myself. If we died, there would be no one left to stop the poachers from taking everyone on the planet. The call had already been put in to Lipanto. Who knew if they would send any soldiers out here? We could not wait for them, regardless. We had hidden amongst the refugee tents waiting for the pirates to strike. I was next to the gang lord and his bodyguards, standing behind the remnant wall of some Uobat building. Uozoku was a miserable place, barely populated, full of mud and garbage and the starving surviving population of the city. Where once had lived tens of millions, now lived less than ten thousand.
My patience was tried as we waited. I was not fond of my master’s scouts’ reporting. They were unusually vague. That was unprofessional. But, eventually, Hamy’s scouter beeped and flashed, and then ours did, and they were upon us. We ended up waiting for about seven hours. I think many of the soldiers were in foul moods because of it. The poachers had not come to the exact spot we had been expecting, either. We had to move into different positions as they began scouring the outskirts of the town to the west of us.
The ship hovered two meters above the ground. There was a shield row of two dozen Uttovelm tents between us and them. Eight of them, wearing jet-black light armor, descended from an open hatch in the belly of the vessel. I had heard rumors of poachers, but this was my first time seeing them. They were Joleans, though the armor they wore confused me. I did not recognize the markings on their skin-tight suits, nor the sleek designs. I suppose they looked more like scouts than pirates. Either way, it was confusing. They were too organized to be pirates.
Graliakh and his guards exchanged silent looks. We held our ground. A few of them were breathing harder than before.
It was not until one of the poachers shot into a tent, pulling out a starved-looking woman who struggled and kicked and shrieked in a deep voice, that the other seven followed suit. As soon as they rushed into the tents, Graliakh stood up, raised his hand, and reddish ki began forming around his fist. We got the message soon enough, even those warriors in the tents behind us. The Joleans would not be wearing scouters, as they could sense energy. They had declared war already. It was time to end this. Hopefully they would get the message and not harm any of the refugees before we reached them.
Only after everyone was powered up to their maximum level did Graliakh lower his fist, kick off the dirt, and fly towards the ship. He led the charge. I followed, holding back. Hamy and Bailu were right on his tail, and I could hear the others behind me.
Yet, the poachers had not reacted to our show of force. The first poacher was already returning towards the ship, rising into the air, the struggling woman in tow (though by now he had quite easily subdued her). He was so enamored by her that he was blind to our approach.
My master hit him hard in the back, breaking his spine instantly. Dropping the woman with a gasp, the Jolean fell, none of his appendages moving. The old man caught him in midair just before he hit the ground, kneeing him hard in the side of the head, causing him to spit out a few teeth in a spray of blood. The Jolean went flying away, into a pile of rubble, and did not get up. There was no power reading coming from that area. These guys were strong, but not that strong. My scouter was reading four thousand, not twelve. How could Graliakh’s scouts be so off with their reporting?
When the other poachers returned outside, slaves in tow, Graliakh’s elites came down hard on them from above. I killed one of them myself–a simple energy beam, nothing fancy. It was over without much struggle. Three of them were able to react long enough to get a few punches and energy beams in their way (killing two of Graliakh’s men), but were vaporized on the next Uttovelm volley.
The poor refugees ran wide-eyed back into their tents, crying. Not one of them thanked us. Poor bastards. At least they didn’t get taken. I pitied them for being forced to endure that. It was Graliakh’s fault that such a petty group of pirates had been terrorizing Uoto for so long. He should have taken charge much earlier than this.
He didn’t bother speaking to them. Instead, we formed up below the ship, hovering low in the air. Our scouters were reading several additional power levels inside. We were preparing to blow it to smithereens, the energy already forming in our palms, when out from the open bay descended a gold-and-silver bejeweled Jolean. He floated down to us with his arms folded. We were taken aback, but not frightened. His power level was only twenty-one thousand. He was by far the strongest pirate, but still nothing to worry about for me or Graliakh.
“Good afternoon, Uttovelm,” the Jolean said with a gold-tooth smile. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. You must be the ones in charge of this place.”
“Get off my planet, poacher!” Graliakh roared. “I should kill you here and now for what your men have been doing!”
Bailu didn’t give the poacher time to respond to the boss’ question. “Return those you took!”
That drew the alien’s attention. “Sorry, man. What’s sold is sold. No returns. Not how this business works.”
“We should kill him, boss!”
“Yeah, blow up his ship too! Bury the maggot here!”
“Actually,” replied the Jolean, “I think that, since you murdered eight of my finest soldiers, there must be justice served. That was very bad of you, Uttovelm. I hadn’t expected that this would come to bloodshed. You are a damn hot-headed fool, and this is what you deserve.”
Clearing his throat, the man conjured up bright blue balls of ki above his forefinger and thumb and flicked them, one at a time, to eight of Graliakh’s men. The energy balls exploded on impact, vaporizing each of their heads. That was spooky-good precision. I remember re-checking his power level at that point, just to confirm it hadn’t risen above twenty-one thousand, but as I did, my scouter’s readings went off the charts and before I could turn it off, the screen cracked, and it blew up. He was a sneaky bastard, the Jolean. He could raise and lower his power level at will. I guess that was to be expected. Joleans can naturally sense power levels. They should have more control over that kind of stuff. Even so, it was a rare trick, and not one we had been prepared for. I had no idea how high his true power level was. That was when the fear set in.
There were about fifteen of us left.
“What the fuck?!” roared my master. “You little shit! I’ll kill you!”
He shook his head in resignation of having to fight at all. I guess that made more sense in retrospect. “You won’t.”
Nobody told a gang boss what to do. It just wasn’t done. His response was inevitable. His reaction, however, was not what I had predicted. He grabbed Graliakh around the neck, flipped him over, and threw him to the ground, letting him land in a crater.
It was more surprising than anything else that he had let Graliakh survive. This Jolean was a slippery fellow, but he had unusual honor. “Now, you lie there, man, and you stay there, or we’re going to have a big problem.”
Graliakh didn’t move. It looked like he was bleeding from where I hovered. Yet, the rest of his guards looked as if they were about to pounce. At the last second, the old man shouted out in a feeble voice, “Don’t! You’ll just get yourselves killed!”
They begrudgingly calmed themselves, returning to him. Their tempers had not cooled, but they were loyal enough. I followed with some distance between us, as I had not the fervent loyalty to this man that his other soldiers had. The old man pushed the swarming mass of them off of him, swearing he was fine as he got to his feet.
We all witnessed him spit out a mouthful of blood and shudder. Nobody said anything. His bodyguards shifted on their feet, exchanging another silent look.
“Now, then. Let us start over. I think that would be for the best. My name is Medler. You have heard of me, no?”
My blood ran cold. Everyone knew that Medler was one of the most wretchedly notorious space pirates in the empire. The bounty on his head was a planet; we were not foolish enough to charge at him again once we knew his identity; his power level was north of a hundred thousand, far outclassing all of us put together. No wonder he was so calm. He could sense our powers. He knew where we stood at odds. And so too now did we.
“Aye, we’ve heard of you,” replied Graliakh in a growl.
“Are you the leader of Uoto, man? What’s your name?”
“I am,” he said feebly. “Graliakh.”
“Good. Now listen to me carefully, Graliakh. You have one chance to survive this. If you do not take it, I will murder you and all of your people. I propose a compromise between both of our affected parties: I will no longer take your weakest and most destitute people to the flesh markets in Nuoh. In exchange for this show of mercy, three of your companions will aid me in one insignificant trip. Her,” he said, nodding to me. After scanning the rest of their power levels, he pointed to Hamy and Bailu. “And those two.”
“Wha…? Why them? What mission? What are you talking about, Medler?”
The gold-wearing pirate gave us a haughty look. “They are the strongest of your retinue. The three of them will assist me on a transportation mission to Faeri. Now that you’ve inconvenienced me and killed most of my crew, I need replacements for my next mission. They won’t have to do much, but I need the bodies to move cargo. My shipment must be completed soon, and I don’t have time to restock my crew.”
He grunted deep in his throat, looking to each of us, then turned back to the pirate, spitting out another mouthful of blood. “Deal. No more poaching, and one mission in aid. And that’s that. Don’t come b–”
“We’re not finished, Graliakh. You must also allow my forces to mine your planet of its cobalt ore, and of its metals.”
“What?! You cannot be serious! You will ruin Uoto!”
“Sir, don’t do it,” said I. I was fully willing to fight to the death over this issue.
“This is not a negotiation, I’m afraid. The compromise will be made, Uttovelm, or I’ll kill all of you and mine the planet anyways. Do you want to put yourselves against me? I’ll let you all come at once. I’ll even give you a handicap–I won’t power up past fifty percent. How does that sound? Fair?”
I glanced to the old man. His head was bowed, the side of his lip leaking spittle and blood. In that moment, I was ready to die–all of us were, I think. I could see it in their eyes. I didn’t want to let him defile the surface of my homeworld, mining it of all its valuables–valuables that belonged to the Uttovelm, not that damn pirate. Heat was rising in my cheeks as I grew furious, my fists clenching. Perhaps we had a chance if we all attacked him at once.
Then, Graliakh replied in a tired voice befitting of how he looked, “Deal. Please, no more bloodshed. My people cannot take it anymore.”
My heart sank; everyone’s heads were bowed, unwilling to make eye contact with each other. I think they were as offended as I was. A tittering laugh cracked through the muted zone of Uozoku. I had thought too much of Graliakh upon my return. The warning signs had been there from first meeting him, yet, as I often did, I had let wild hope overcome rational thought to my own detriment. Now here we stood, a defeated species in imperial space being brought to heel by a space pirate.
It sickened me. But what could I do to stop it?
Took only four days for us to get to Faeri. We were hiding out in a nondescript Jolean spice-trading vessel. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. It was just us three, Medler, and a pair of pilots. He seemed most irritated to have lost his crew. He did put it on a bit much though. That pirate was a dramatic one–always sighing and giving us dirty looks. As far as I was concerned, the poachers had gotten what they deserved.
On the first day of travel, I asked him about it, for Joleans are able to sense power levels. It annoyed me that they should have sensed us before we reached them, but they had not. He revealed to me that he let his crew have his way with the Uttovelm they took before returning to the ship. As they were obviously all of singular mind in that moment, they did not sense anyone on approach. There was something suspicious about that. For a moment, just from how he talked about them, I thought that perhaps Medler had tried to get those men killed. But why would he do such a thing? It made no sense to me.
“You sensed us, at least?”
“That’s right, Uttovelm. Had they made a battle of it, I would have saved them, but they were caught completely off-guard. That’s a serious error; they got what punishment they deserved. Nobody of such poor awareness deserves to be on my crew.”
We didn’t really talk to him much after that. I could hardly pretend to stand the man’s presence. It was a lot of sleeping, eating, and muttering between ourselves about where we were going and why. Hamy and Bailu hardly had anything interesting to say about matters. They were dull as water.
Finally, on the third day, as one pilot called out their destination being an hour away, Bailu worked up the courage to ask, “So, Medler, what are we doing on Faeri?”
“You will assist me in wounding them for what they did to your planet.”
“Are you serious?” We couldn’t believe it. It was too good to be true. But we were already there, you see. There was no turning back at that moment. He would have killed us had we protested. Why wouldn’t we have gone along with it?
“I am not lying to you, man. We’re going to give them this stuff–they think it’s puklin spice. Native to Atjoh, pretty rare, but not so uncommon as to raise eyebrows. Just the type of thing you’d expect a noblewoman with plenty of excess space woolongs to order. These boxes are going to a woman named Iriseni.”
“Why her? Was she Bael’s whore, or his daughter?”
“She is a noblewoman who has many meetings with many diverse groups of people.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Medler pointed to the crate of puklin spice. “That’s not really spice from Atjoh, my friends. In fact, it is a substance called Bahkaar’s Mist. Once Iriseni opens it, she will be touch the thick brown powder, which, when stirred, will rise into the air and stick, allowing anyone to inhale the stuff when they enter her apartment. The infectious disease will have her by that point, though she won’t know it for two weeks. Anyone she touches in that time will be infected as well, and so on and so on. It takes three weeks to really start showing symptoms, four to start suffering badly. Five is when most die, though some of strong vitality may persist six or even seven weeks. But they will die eventually. It has, as you may have suspected, no known cure. Do not touch it. If she opens it in our presence, let her touch it, but do not get near her. I will come up with an excuse for us to leave early. We can run if we have to. It won’t infect us if we don’t breathe it in.”
“Understood.”
We exchanged looks. Of course, with him standing right there, we couldn’t exactly say anything ill of the plan. I didn’t know what to make of this, nor how to most effectively respond. We were about to unleash a plague on Faeri, in essence. This is what we wanted, I supposed. This is the justice our planet deserved for what Bael had done to ours. He killed millions, so we would retaliate in turn. This was our opportunity to really get the Faereth once and for all.
Maybe the whole damn lot of them would catch the plague and die. That would be a dream come true. They were all vermin. As much as I tried to hold empathy for them, the last time I was on Faeri, I burned all my bridges. Not one of them cared about the Uttovelm, about the plight of those still clinging to life on Uoto. They had nakedly shown me their apathy and thought I would not return home to tell tale of it.
Luckily, it appeared that they thought I was dead. I wasn’t dead yet. I refused to die until they suffered. And they would. If Medler was to be believed, I knew we had a good shot of utterly annihilating the Faereth. This was our one shot. We didn’t have the warriors to harm the Faereth militarily. This was the only way. I was on board, and so were Hamy and Bailu, though it took them more time than me to come around.
An hour later, we reached Faeri, landing in the ancient city of Mithran. It was there we met with Iriseni in one of the fanciest rooms in the Radiant City Hotel. She greeted us out on the landing pad, just below the sixtieth floor. A frail, shaking thing, she was all drawn up in scarves and blankets, her fingers covered in thin black gloves, Pointing to the crates, she demanded that we carry them inside. Doing that was part of our deception, but that did not make it feel any less demeaning.
Bailu and Hamy were forced to pick up the crates. None for me. That was lucky for me. The pilots waited in the ship. I found that odd in the moment, but in retrospect it was obvious why that was. If we were found out, they would need to power up the ship quickly. We followed her inside, up a gravity lift to the eighty-seventh floor, where she was staying at the time.
This was a big risk. If anything went wrong, we could be killed very easily. I never liked this place. The cities smelled like garbage and death here. Somebody could also recognize Medler, and that could blow our cover. None of us had noticed who he was until he had told us his name, though, so maybe Iriseni was none the wiser. I swear his face had been posted for bounties, but again, she probably wouldn’t have looked into that type of stuff, being a person of little physical power herself.
“Oh, do stay a while! It must have been a long journey!” she was saying in a high-pitched, whiny voice. “You traveled many days to get here. The least I could do is give you a place to relax for a little while. How about an hour or two?”
“I’m sorry, but we have additional deliveries to make. We must get going soon.”
She was pouting hard, trying to cover it up. Had she been wanting to seduce the men? I was unsure why she was so displeased that we weren’t staying. That seemed like an unusual request, and one that most drivers would not agree to indulge in. Maybe she wanted to drug us and kill us. That was always a possibility in places like this. “Ah, what a shame. No, no, go on. I don’t want to keep your other customers waiting.”
Inside, she directed Bailu to take the crate to her cooking room. She lit a nil stick and offered it to us. Medler and Hamy both took puffs. I did not. We drank some Loru Qir tea, freshly prepared, and exchanged a few words.
“Puklin is hard to get these days,” she sighed. “I was going down to the market in town, but it was getting increasingly expensive and scarce until a few weeks ago I had to cut it out of my budget entirely. I don’t know how I could have continued to manage! I cook with it almost every night!”
“Glad to be of service, ma’am,” Medler said coolly.
“I see you have Uttovelm in your employ.” She smiled, sipping at her tea in little gulps. “Wise choice. Very strong, but not so, well…” She pointed at her head, tilting it, making a face, and then giggled to herself.
Medler, for all his worth, did not laugh much, though he did humor her a little. The two of them played corhu-corghu (the Faerin not wanting to dirty her darts in Uttovelm hands). The three of us were becoming increasingly impatient. If Medler were lying, and we had just helped him with this low-level mission for no reason, what could we even do about it? We weren’t in a great position at the moment. He was far stronger than us. Still, we had fulfilled our task, so we wanted to go home. Faeri was no place for Uttovelm. We could hardly stand another second.
Yet we waited. They played seven games. Medler won six-to-one. At least they gave us some Leima Bivo. It was piss-weak stuff, though, at least by our standards. I didn’t get drunk at all. That sucked. The Faerin, however, seemed to. She tried to make us to stay for dinner, but knowing that she would be cooking with a plague meant we were not going to stay around much longer. Medler’s delivery excuse was a sound one, one she could not debate, and thus we only ended up spending around fifteen minutes there.
Four days to get there, and four days to get back. Add in fifteen minutes, and it wasn’t even a standard imperial week before we returned home. Medler dropped us off without much drama. We spoke no more of what we had done. We did not see him again, although his Jolean workers moved into the mountains north of Urarosh the very next day, where they began mining away at the rock, at the very substance of our world. On a clear afternoon, one could see them at work, which is why on clear days, I remained indoors. There was much work left to be done to restore Uoto, and I would not get much accomplished if I felt sick.
The bastard never showed his face again. His miners stayed a week and a half. Everything was normal until the day they packed up and left. Then, all hell broke loose. They knew beforehand. Had to. No other explanation for it. I should have looked back on all of this, on all the odd behavior–Medler’s in particular–and realized that something was amiss.
Bailu was the first to come down with the plague, then Hamy, then me. Then a dozen more, then a hundred, then a thousand. We had infected dozens of people, who in turn had infected dozens more until nearly everyone had gotten it. It spread through Urarosh and to neighboring refugee centers. I do not know how many were infected, or are still being infected. Has to be millions already. It’s a disaster. I do not know if my species will survive this. I must hope, but I am getting so very tired of hoping for the best.
I lie dying in bed, the plague having ravaged my body. It’s been five weeks at this point. My skin is turning black, melting off me. It hurts. I am barely strong enough to give this dictation. It is a bitter feeling knowing I will die, that I caused this–that we did. Medler had to have done it on purpose. He also had to have been exposed to Bakhaar’s Mist. There was no way we could have been if he and his pilots hadn’t been as well. So did that not mean there was a cure somewhere? The question vexed me. I did not believe it had been an accident. If he had infected us, he had done it on purpose.
I did not believe that he was dying from this as we were. The Jolean was too alert to allow something like that happen under his watch.
No word of Faeri has reached us. I am sure it’s bad. It has to be really bad. We’ve loosed a plague across the entire empire. Trillions will die. Lying here in pain, it is harder to rationalize my rage. I guess we got what we deserved, both Uoto and Faeri. But was it my choice to make? It should not have been like this. I can’t help but feel guilty now. Our ancestors started it, Bael continued it, and in the end, it was us who have made it this far who had to be punished the worst of all.
Life is cruel. My last wish is that the Faereth will soon begin to understand that.
Chapter VII: Pax Arcosia[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Icer |
| Position: | Emperor of the Planet Trade Organization |
| Date of account: | August 2, Age 767 (first scene) August 28, Age 767 (second scene) |
Kuriza was the first to arrive. I was not surprised. With him were Admiral Kracchus, Lingon, and Sapras, his most trusted advisors. I watched from the window on the sixth floor, my guards greeting them for me. This was to be a small party. Even so, word of what was to go down today had weeks ago leaked. Most of the empire knew of the impending peace. Now we simply had to formalize it.
The next ship to appear was Yuki’s. With her was the imp Kirka, her father’s old lackey, and an orange-haired Thekar that I did not know. It was a warm day, which had drained my patience. As the pair were taken inside, I remained where I stood. The final representative had yet to appear. The Corvos League had sworn they would show; I knew she would not let me down. The ship that appeared next, almost a quarter of an hour later, was not theirs at all. It was a small transport vessel in the style of the Planet Trade Organization, though its blue-and-pink insignia was unfamiliar to me.
A gale was howling over the landing pad when the guards met him. His armor was grey as ash. His furry blue cape was being assaulted by the wind. I knew that man: Admiral Nectarian. He had been one of Cooler’s men. When Ipha had been destroyed, he had gone with it, or so we had believed. I knew not why he was there. I admit I was impatient to destroy the glass, but there was no quicker way to get to him. I had to know why he came.
“Nectarian.”
He was older. His wrinkles were almost too numerous to count. “Emperor Icer,” he smiled, placing his fist to his breast and kneeling. “It’s been such a long time.”
“We thought you were dead.”
“Not quite.”
“Why are you here? I have important business to attend to.”
“I am aware. Peace has returned to the empire–that song has been sung even as far as Melirion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s where I fled with the twins when the Faereth revolted and destroyed Ipha.”
He had caught me by surprise. “Raimie and Haimaru? You’re telling me Cooler’s children are still alive? Why should I believe you?”
“We thought you’d say that.” He pulled a metal disc from his belt and threw it to the ground. A holographic projection of two young Arcosians flashed into existence. A chill fell down my spine. I knew at once that they were real.
“Hello, Uncle Icer!” Raimie said enthusiastically. “I’m here with my brother Haimaru.” The Prince, his arms folded, looked on without saying a word, petulant as Frieza. “We have learned of the great peace that will soon be declared all throughout the empire. As our cousins Kuriza and Yuki have been granted great regions of space to lord over,” she said with a gulp, looking away for several seconds, “we humbly request as the trueborn and only heirs of Emperor Cooler to be granted our own imperial region of space. Encoded in this disc are coordinates to our base of operations–a planet called Melirion. Melirion is beyond your territory, Uncle, so we won’t steal any of your planets, promise.”
The boy stepped in front of his twin, looking away as she had. “If you refuse our humble request, it will come to war.”
The hologram flashed out of existence.
“A bold demand to make of me, especially from a pair of children. Who do they think they are? Have they not heard of what I did to Kuriza?”
He gave a mild, but greedy smile. “I’m afraid not. I admit I have not heard any such tales, myself. You will forgive them, I hope. They are young and prideful, my lord. Please excuse their lack of manners. They were raised in a difficult environment.”
“Whose fault was that?”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It was necessary. They are stronger for it.”
“Go inside. The rest are waiting.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“We are waiting for one more. I will be in when she arrives.”
He nodded, falling to a knee again in an unconvincing obeisant gesture.
The skies were almost neon green. It had grown cloudier approaching noon. “Wait inside,” I instructed the guards via a secure scouter channel.
An hour passed, then another. My tail slapped the landing pad. I was growing increasingly agitated. I wanted to kill her for making me wait. This power play was something a third-rate space pirate would do. She was trashy like that sometimes.
Out of nowhere, she materialized on the landing pad, two fingers pressed to her forehead in the manner of Yardratian Instant Transmission. She hadn’t come with anyone else. That made me feel a little more at ease.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Emperor Icer.” The Heran flashed a crooked smile, walking over and leaning in for a hug.
I was a little late to react to her unprofessionalism. “It’s been years, hasn’t it? I don’t think I’ve been here since… well, you remember.”
“I will never forget it. I was only a child when I kicked you and your gang off this rock to claim it for the Planet Trade Organization. My brother held it for years, but I’ve been the one running this place for most of that time. Does it give you chills, Audacci?”
“Shut up. You’re such a gloater.”
“Let’s go inside. They’re waiting for us,” I said, gesturing her inside.
“I’m representing the Corvos League here today, not myself. Remember that.”
“I thought you liked to be called the Blue Queen. More like the Servant Queen.”
She gave me a cold look. “You don’t understand their power, Icer. Their reach extends beyond this universe. Their armies are trillions strong.”
“I am aware of that. Do you think it frightens me?”
“They have only expanded a small portion of their overall strength into our universe. We’re the only ones holding them back, you and I.”
“You told me you went to the Venyi Academy to get stronger and deal with this problem. I hired that assassin to kill the last God-Emperor, did I not? And did she not kill seven of the twelve members of the Elder Circle? You had but four of them to deal with, and did you? Not a chance. I should have expected disloyalty from a pirate.”
Walking past me, she stopped at the corner of the landing pad, away from the pathway leading inside. “It’s easier said than done. Had I killed them, the J’taro–that’s what they call their ‘big daddy’, the guy who runs the Corvos League from the next universe over–the, err, the J’taro would have killed me in an instant. He possesses unfathomable power. I value my life more than I value your empire. Shame that even has to be said.”
I did not move from my spot. “As you said, you’re representing their interests today.”
“I’m not exaggerating, Icer. He can erase anyone from existence at will–even you. It’s an ability I’m not sure any amount of power can overcome.”
“Then why bother getting any stronger?”
“Perhaps if I become fast enough, he won’t be able to detect me before I land the killing blow.”
“That’s risky. You don’t do risky. If you fail, you’re dead.”
“I know. It’s not worth it. So for now, I’ll represent the Corvos League.” Regret was plain on her face. “Let’s go inside. There are terms we need to discuss.”
“The others are in there already. Do not make this awkward.”
“Or what, you’ll slap me? You don’t know how strong the Venyi Academy has made me. Try it if you like.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors of the Golden Emperor.”
“I was hoping he would show up today. I must say, I’m disappointed.”
“Audacci…”
“Come on. We shouldn’t make them wait,” she beckoned, waving me over to the door.
It was an odd feeling, following her inside. She was a pirate by nature, uncouth and reckless and petty. My interactions with her aside, I was uneasy about this. Nectarian had thrown a wrinkle in the plans. There was little chance the Corvos League would accept another Arcosian empire rising up in the near future. If this was to be a time of peace, though, they should not care. I knew they were still going to press forward, claiming whichever planets they could. Having been satisfied thus far by claiming most of the old Galactic Bank’s worlds, their greed would soon compel them forward and against us. I had seen this story play out a half-dozen times before. They would doubtlessly soon lose patience with the Planet Trade Organization and push into the neutral zone, taking whichever worlds they could. And then what? Would she remain loyal to them then?
I was not much looking forward to a conflict. That would have to be avoided at all costs.
She didn’t make any snide remarks on the walk over, our footsteps being the only sounds in the marble hallway. I overtook her, and led her on. My guards had retreated, leaving this place entirely devoid of life. She was trustworthy, despite her lack of manners. I wanted no one else to represent the Corvos League today. The empire was wounded, and though I knew that I could outmatch her, that I could take on the Corvos League myself if need be, the cost would be too much. Trillions would be lost on both sides. We had been at war for years now. It was time for that to end.
Reaching the door, I grasped the golden handle, and she put her hand on my shoulder. “You won’t join? No matter what?”
“If they wish to submit to me, they may. The Golden Emperor bows to no one.”
She exhaled forcefully, looking away, and I opened the door, quelling her desperate notions. They were all seated inside, drawn into their own little groups. The blue-glass table was bare. At its end, my katchin throne awaited me. Audacci sat at the opposite end of the table in a wooden chair. To my left was the half-Saiyan. To my right was Kuriza. A little further down, Nectarian sat alone, drinking from a cup of steaming Green Liani tea. Everyone but the Heran rose as I approached my throne. Yuki’s bootlicking was obvious; her cousin was less inclined to bend under societal norms, though he did in the end. The Blue Queen met my eyes when I reached the throne, having already taken her seat.
“Let us begin,” I said, ignoring her.
They followed without word. Once we were seated, the feeble-voiced Ocaran spoke up. “My dear Emperor, on this blessed day of peace, let me once again re-affirm our eternal faith in you. We are your loyal servants. Command and we will obey.”
Nectarian studied me for a response. So did Kracchus. I knew the game they were playing. It would have been easy for me to kill them, to wipe them from existence in front of her. Yet in such a case, I would have no one left to rule the vast expanses of my empire. Kuriza, Yuki, and the twins were my blood, despite how openly they were disrespecting me. I hated that I was so influenced by them. Their drama should not have impacted me one way or another. It would be a lie, however, to say it hadn’t.
“My brothers are dead, as are Cooler, Frieza, and Nitro. The Galactic Bank is no more.” Audacci found that rather funny, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair. Nectarian noticed; the rest were looking to me. “So too has the cult of Ctha’Naka been wiped out, and the rebellion by that gladiator Pukcoläsic put to rest. A small minority of planets remain in rebellion. Those will be dealt with in the coming days, or I will strip you of every planet you own,” I told Yuki and Kuriza. “Space pirates infest the outer-reaches of our empire. They too must be dealt with. And, if I’m not mistaken, the curious case of the hidden Mrovian Empire must be addressed as well…”
“As soon as I am able to locate Mrov, I will wipe them out,” Yuki replied.
I let that sit for a while. Her ego needed checking. “I expect that will not take long. In any case, the Corvos League and Planet Trade Organization are now allies. As the last two major empires left in the universe, we have agreed to cease all conflicts, present and future.”
The Heran leaned to the side, obscuring her mouth with a hand. “We have agreed to certain terms, Emperor Icer. One of those being that you and Frieza’s son do not expand your empires any further towards our territory. The neutral zone must remain intact.”
“Seriously? Are you joking?!” Up jumped Kuriza. He looked utterly revolted by what she had said. “Who are you to demand anything of me? Of us?”
“In the best interest of not provoking further conflict, each side must agree to certain compromises.”
“How is this a compromise? What have you given up?”
“We shall not expand further into the neutral zone, either.”
Looking to me, Kuriza’s desperation was difficult to empathize with. “You should go ahead and try that. See what happens when my forces meet yours.” The woman had no response, nor any reaction to the child. “Uncle, this is outrageous…”
“You may still expand your empire to the west. Yuki may do the same to the east.”
Lingon stood, whispering something in his young lord’s ear. Kuriza waved him away, unconvinced. “I do not agree to their demands!”
“It is not for you to decide,” I told him. “This is my decision. I have already made it.”
Aghast, the crimson-jeweled boy made a face and took his seat, saying not another word.
“We agree to your terms,” Kirka said stiffly.
“It was not for you to decide, either.”
He bowed his head, not daring to backtalk as my grand nephew had. He knew I would not hesitate to vaporize him. Pathetic as he was, the imp was more than intelligent. He was a sound advisor to the girl. Shame there was no such level-headedness in Kuriza’s camp. One would think with all the distinguished officers following him, he would be receiving decent counsel. Alas that he was not.
“Then it’s peace,” Audacci said at last. “We find these terms acceptable. The Corvos League is satisfied.”
“Yet, we are not,” said Nectarian, rising to his feet. “Prince Haimaru and Princess Raimie are, by law, your heirs, good emperor. They must be accommodated accordingly. That this half-breed beast maintains an extensive empire is a grave insult to them, with all due respect. We must be able to expand our borders.”
“I decide who my heir is. Cooler’s children have been missing and presumed dead for years. I have not seen them with my own eyes since they vanished, and still you are demanding of me many things. For my nephew’s sake, I will let your rudeness slide. Don’t let it happen again.”
“I don’t understand. Who is your heir?”
“Kuriza,” I replied without flinching.
The boy looked almost surprised, his bodyguard at his ear, glancing to me between bated breaths. His camp said nothing. Yuki stirred, but not too hastily. She knew her place. I thought I had made that clear the last time she was here. Lucky for her, there weren’t any governors around to watch her humiliation this time.
“Cooler was older than Frieza and Nitro both. His children deserve to be your heirs.”
“They have no empire.”
“I still command some men, your excellency, and the children have been trained well in the art of ruling. Should they become your foes, that would not bode well for the Planet Trade Organization.”
I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Kuriza, my dear, tell that man what happened to you when you stood against me.”
His voice was low. “Uncle Icer is the strongest warrior in all the universe. Those who would dare rise against him are fools.”
The Blue Queen snorted.
“You are in no position to demand anything of me, Admiral. Sit down, or we will take Melirion from you as well. Once this meeting has concluded, I will discuss gifting some of my planets in the northern expanse to the twins. Until then, keep your mouth shut. Hopefully, the Corvos League won’t feel threatened by the twins.”
“We never are. We are a far more ancient guild than the Planet Trade Organization. We will outlast you, Emperor Icer, and every one of your heirs, whoever they may be, unless you join us.”
I knew she had to say it in front of them, to put it in the official record, but it was revolting. “We will never bow to your God-Emperor.”
“Very well then.” She stood up, faking a smile. “Remind the younger ones not to expand their territory towards us. Any provocation could mean a broken peace.”
“Barbaric woman,” the boy whispered loud enough.
“There are three other directions we may expand in,” I replied, not breaking eye contact with her. “Don’t worry.”
She placed two fingers to her forehead, then withdrew them. “There’s one more thing, your grace. God-Emperor Lupharzo IV requests you include us in your Nil trade.”
“What?” We hadn’t discussed this. She knew to spring it on me at the end, when she would soon be gone. That was low of her.
“I’ve left the datapad with the shipment details and the location of our drop-off planet–Dhennon Xi–on the table. It’s just beyond your territory, Emperor. I’m sure it won’t be much of a hassle for your runner to make a slightly longer trip each time. Your forces shouldn’t have to strain very hard to include us in the trade routes.”
“And what if I refuse?”
“Then the peace is off, naturally,” she said with a poisonous smile.
I could not tell if she was joking. It was best not to risk it. A nod was all she needed, and then she was gone in a sudden flash of light, her fingers once again pressed against her forehead. She hadn’t told me that she had learned Instant Transmission. That must have been one of her lessons at the Venyi Academy. She had purposefully chosen to keep that a secret until today, and for good reason. Now I had to be on guard always, lest she appear in a burst of light at any given moment. “Anyone else?” I asked, raising a hand, daring the most greedy to step forward and show themselves. I didn’t expect any would.
Nectarian obliged. “Emperor Icer, first I want to say th–”
“I want you to shut up, Nectarian. Sit down. When we are done, you will take me back with you to Melirion to meet my grand nephew and niece. Until then, you would be wise to demand nothing of me.”
“I-I… as you wish, my lord.”
I scanned the table. All but my kin were looking back, as was their obligation. “Go forth and declare the Great Peace throughout the empire–Pax Arcosia is in effect. The Corvos League are our allies. We will trade with them, but we will not expand our territory any further north. Spread this to all the governors and admirals and advisors. There can be no slip-ups. Even one mistake could break the peace. Use lethal discretion if your subordinates disobey.”
I looked from the Thekar to Lingon, to Kirka, to Nectarian, to Kracchus. “Leave me with my family.”
Like their seats were aflame, they got to their feet. As soon as they had left, Kuriza hopped up with a snarling, furious look. “You cannot mean to do this, Uncle! Who do they think they are? We take whatever we want! We bow to no one!”
“We are not bowing to them. We are forging an alliance. Not all enemies need be defeated, as I’m sure you already know. Your advisors must have taught you how these things sometimes go.”
He knew I knew about the gladiator. That did nothing to quench his spirit. “We should destroy them. They’re sickeningly arrogant, presumptuous to the utmost degree. How dare they define my imperial borders for me? The nerve… Uncle, I will not stand for this!”
“Then rise against me in rebellion, and I’ll cut your head off.” I glanced at the girl, but she had her head bowed, staring despondently into her lap. She was wiser than Frieza’s son. She knew when to shut up and listen. “I learned today that I have an additional grand nephew and grand niece. You’re not as important as you once were, Kuriza. You know it, I know it, they all know it. Haimaru and Raimie weaken your claim. And you’re right. I can very easily give them your territory if I think you aren’t acting in the best interest of the Planet Trade Organization. You have a choice, boy: rise against me and be forgotten to history, or hold your tongue, and remain my heir.”
“You would?” the boy asked, his voice rising.
“They may be Cooler’s children, but it is me, not any piece of paper, who determines the line of succession. With my own children gone, I have already chosen you. Then her. Then them.”
The boy turned away, blinking rapidly, his tail moving about in irritation. “Okay. I accept.”
“It wasn’t your choice. Now get out of here, you two. We have an empire to rebuild.”
“Uncle,” Yuki asked. “Am I allowed to invade Typhon? Per my father’s invasion, it is the only Mrovian world that we know the location of, but I am unsure exactly how strong my father was when he attacked them. He never told me.”
I gave it to her good before responding. “You’re not ready. Use this time of peace to remove the space pirates and officers in rebellion from your sub-region. Once you have done that, I will train with you, and then I will determine if you are ready to provoke the Mrovians.”
“As you command, Uncle, I shall enforce,” she said, bowing.
I followed them out. Nectarian waited for me on the landing pad. The wind in our eyes, we watched the hosts of Kuriza and Yuki depart on their own saucers, soon disappearing into the clouds. “How many soldiers do you command?”
“Twenty thousand.” His response was nakedly smug.
“That is more than anyone would have expected… enough to man dozens of outposts.”
“I know.”
“Where did you get them from?”
“They are Admiral Articho’s men, my lord. He pledged himself to Cooler’s children during the civil war, loyal old chap that he was.”
I did not appreciate how arrogantly he was acting. I was staring off at the outer edges of the floating city, where rock turned to cloud, to get the sight of his ghastly smile out of my mind. There was something deeply unsettling about Nectarian, something I didn’t trust. “Take me to them, now: Articho, Raimie, Haimaru, and anyone else you’re hiding.”
“They’re it, Emperor Icer. I swear on my life.”
We departed thereafter. A short-haired Jolean, wearing single-pauldron armor and sporting a blue scouter, waited for us inside. It was an unimportant thing, I suppose, and one that could have been faked, but I felt some small comfort seeing that at least some part of Nectarian’s wild fancies appeared to be true. Were he lying to me, this would be the end of him. He was too smart to throw his life away in such a pointless way. But he could also be thinking I would assume that. For that reason, I decided to go with him that day. After all, the war was over. Pax Arcosia had commenced. This would be the start of my golden reign.
The ship landed in a place called Keinanon, in the middle of a yellow stone temple–roof-less, of course. It was sunny that day, but nothing too intolerable. They were awaiting us just outside the ship: Admiral Articho and a hand-picked group of half a dozen of his captains, a purple-robed and slender elf-like creature, flanked by two of his own, and standing before them, the toddlers–Raimie and Haimaru. I paused beneath the shade of the transport, certainty flooding my veins. I knew then that it was too early for this. They were too young to rule, and I was not about to put Nectarian in charge of a sizeable empire that he had not earned. He was not about to use my own blood as a stepping stone to his tyrannical fancies.
“Ah, there we have King Malus, and this is, well, his Kingdom of Melirion…” Nectarian said in a melodramatic voice. “As you can see, my lord, the twins remain very much alive.”
“I have eyes, Admiral.”
He had coached them into giving that speech. Disgusting hubris. When we reached them, I allowed them to perform all their polite duties. The king introduced himself, as did the kids, practicing rehearsed lines with articulate prowess. Articho was curt, averting his eyes. I glanced around, finding no one else of note, though who could tell if they had any hidden microphones of some sort already planted here. I wouldn’t be surprised. I had to be careful with what I said. Thus, my investigation of Melirion began with a single question.
“Who rules this planet?”
The space elf looked to Nectarian, stuttering out nonsense, glancing once to Articho for a lifeline, but getting no help. “Ah, yes, um, well, it’s Prince Haimaru who rules over the Kingdom of Melirion. And I rule over my own people b-beneath him, your grace. Please forgive me, it was a complicated question!”
“I see. And how many Planet Trade Organization soldiers are stationed on this world?”
“They only came recently… I would guess around twenty thousand. That’s what they told me, and it looks like as much.”
“You will show me the entire crews of your fleet, Admiral.”
Articho gave a lazy nod. “Aye.”
“Until then, my offer is simple: This is Planet Haimaru 001. Articho’s fleet will be distributed across several of my northern border worlds, many of which are currently unmanned or undermanned. Those will become additional planets in the prince’s name. How strong is your average soldier, Admiral?”
“2200.” He had prepared that statement. I couldn’t know if that was a good sign or not yet.
“Very well. You will distribute five hundred soldiers per planet. That comes out to forty worlds. A fair start for the youngsters, wouldn’t you agree? No one else in my family has held so many planets had such a young age.”
Nectarian had to butt in, his jowls quivering. “How many does Kuriza currently rule?”
“Over two hundred fifty.”
“And Yuki?”
“Over two hundred fifty.”
“So you won’t tell me precisely?”
“You will do what I tell you, Admiral, or I’ll make an example of you in front of your friends. If you think you can back-talk me, or subvert me in minor ways, you will be surprised. I do not tolerate even the mildest forms of insubordination. I don’t know how it’s been for you here on Melirion, but you will have to adapt to the imperial model right now, or you’re dead.”
“Come on, Nectarian,” Articho said gruffly. “It ain’t worth it. You gotta be there for the kids.”
I remember that upon hearing him say that, goosebumps spread on my forearms. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “He’s right, you know.”
It was only a finger beam that did it in the end. The blue arrow of energy cut through Articho’s oily skin, splattering dark blood into the air. He fell without a grunt, which I thought was generous of him, though blood soon pooled out from the holes in his head, staining the temple grounds.
The King hid his aversion, albeit not completely. It was good to know at least someone on this damn rock had some professionalism in their bones. “Do we have a deal or not?” I asked the admiral.
The old man had gone pale. He tried to swallow, and then tried again. “Y-yes, Emperor Icer. Thank you! Your mercy and generosity are a welcome sight.” Falling to a knee, he bowed his head to hide his trembling lip. “Please, let me take you to see the fleet.”
There had always been one good thing about Articho–he was loyal, in the end, to Cooler. That had never been more apparent than now. Five years ago, had I done what I had just done, it would have been quite the scandal. It might have even been the end of me. But now I was emperor, and I would choose who ran my empire. Articho was just the type to foster dreams of rebellion in the young Arcosians’ minds. Nectarian was little different, in truth. At least he had some discretion about him, some self-awareness.
They would have forty-one planets for now. That was far more than they deserved. Dead north of their territory lay the neutral zone, where pirates infested. They would not be allowed to expand in that direction, but only in the direction of my empire. For now, I had no plans of gifting young prince Haimaru any more planets. Perhaps when he got a little older. All that this news had told me, despite the talks of peace and reconciliation, was that I needed to find several loyal and powerful subordinates to replace all of these treasonous snakes with soon. As Audacci had said earlier, such a thing was easier said than done, however.
Chapter VIII: The Chaos Imperative[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Puddin |
| Position: | Guard in the Corvos League |
| Date of account: | September 4, Age 767 (first scene) September 7, Age 767 (second and third scenes) |
The twelve members of the Elder Circle floated in hovering beds over the garden. They were allowed two guards apiece, so it was me and Kubali this time representing the Blue Queen. We were left to stand awkwardly on the grass below with the other guards. There was no small-talk between us; we craned our necks upwards, hoping to be able to hear fragments of a sentence here and there. I didn’t mind. It was nice being here. Dhennon Xi was an exquisite world, and in the floating city of Cuharc that was the God-Emperor’s palace, we were witness to some of the finest imported flowers and trees in the universe, all arranged to his liking, of course. Some of what grew here was native to the eighth universe, my lady had told me–the universe one over where the Corvos League had originated from.
Above them, the holographic figure of the God-Emperor stood proudly, his arms folded, on a floating metal disc. Lupharzo IV was somewhere on this planet, but he was not here, for fear of assassination had kept the old man in hiding. I couldn’t blame him. He would know better than anyone, having previously served as a veteran member of the Elder Circle. Of the five survivors from the last assassination attempt back in Age 735 (which had claimed the life of Takkyi’eil, the Timorous, who had been Lupharzo’s predecessor), four served to this day, and one had been promoted to God-Emperor. Audacci was one of the more powerful and respected veteran members, having gained some years of experience in this governing body whereas two-thirds of her colleagues had had none.
“Icer has agreed to include us in the Nil trade. We won’t have to get it from the black market anymore. That will cut down costs two to three hundred percent, and it will guarantee that our supply lines remain secure.”
“That is most welcome news, Audacci,” said the God-Emperor. “Yet, I am troubled by this late claim–the one presented by Admiral Nectarian. Two more heirs to Icer’s bloodline were not anticipated. This is not good news. Recalculations must be made before we can proceed against the Arcosians.”
“With all due respect, your excellency, their claim changes little. They will receive forty-one planets, none of which will be taken from the neutral zone. Icer is generously giving them forty of his own outposts. Their empire is nothing compared to Yuki’s, nor Kuriza’s, and they don’t command a tenth as many soldiers as either of them. They will not be threats.”
“We do not know who is counseling them, which delusions and expectations they are tempting the young Arcosians’ minds with. By the time they reach Kuriza’s age, they could want a new empire all their own–one in our territory. Their existence alone presents much more of a risk to the Corvos League.”
“I concur, your excellency. This is an unexpected development, and an unwelcome one at that. Had I known about this beforehand–and my fellow members surely feel as I do–I would not have agreed to this so-called ‘Pax Arcosia’,” said the blue-scaled Falufulo, who had originally come from Universe 8, and who was a veteran member of the Elder Circle.
The small furry Tepori, who served as the God-Emperor’s avatar, agreed. “Neither would have I.”
My lady was far from convinced. “You risk open war over a technically.”
“The Corvos League does not suffer slights from lesser empires,” said Sorugh, the Quglith. “They must be punished for their disrespect. The name of our empire has stood for thousands of years, and throughout that time, no one has survived slandering us so. The Planet Trade Organization must be brought to heel.”
“I am with the Hera,” said the nil-addicted Faerin, Bushuka. He was the head of the Order of Melrin, far as my lady knew. “We should not risk war across the entire known universe over a minor issue such as this. As Audacci said, there will be no planets taken from the neutral zone over this development. Icer has taken a personal hit by relinquishing forty planets to appease his grand nephew and niece. We should look to that action as a gesture of good will.”
Several of them began arguing and talking over one another. Raising both arms, the God-Emperor quieted them. “We will honor the Pax Arcosia… for now. Even so, I am enacting J’taro’s edict to Universe 7: ‘The Elder Circle members Kelipho, Valugua, and Becharis shall at this moment leave their seats temporarily in order to infiltrate the Planet Trade Organization. They shall ready themselves to strike at my command.”
“As you command, your excellency, we shall do,” said Kelipho, who had stood from her bed to bow low and long.
The three of them were of the same species and were triplets. That’s what Kubali had heard, anyway. This was the first time either of us had seen them, so who really knows? They were from Universe 8. It did not surprise me that they were loyal to the God-Emperor. He had those three and his avatar, a tiny white monkey-like creature known as a Tepori, on his side. They would vote in his favor no matter what.
There were two other merchants from Universe 8: Shorun, the orange-skinned, bug-eyed fellow, and Falufulo, a lithe lizard. The latter had been here since the last assassination attempt, and had been one of five members of the Elder Circle to survive that horrific ordeal. As should be expected, all the members from Universe 8 were on the God-Emperor’s side, but so too were his old friends who had survived the assassin and not been promoted.
Audacci was one of them. That fact alone swayed three votes in most circumstances, adding to the avatar Byir, and the Triplets. Seven votes was a majority, and so the God-Emperor effectively controlled the Elder Circle as well as serving in his own position.
Kubali had told me that the Universe 8 aliens–those Elder Circle members of species we did not recognize–had been sent by the foreign J’taro, or God-Emperor of Universe 8, where the real strength of the Corvos League lay. They were supposedly trusted associates, having risen high in the ranks, gaining the J’taro’s favor. That was not an unreasonable assumption, for six of the twelve members of the current Circle were of that universe, having been added since the last assassination attempt more than thirty years prior. They were new recruits, and thus it was not unreasonable to assume they had been groomed by the J’taro’s ministers.
With that said, my speculation did not matter much. The Blue Queen had her own plans.
“Does this entail war?”
“”No, it does not, Audacci. Do not interject like that again, or you will be dismissed from this meeting.”
She found her seat, though I bristled. I could not tolerate anyone talking to her as such, even a God-Emperor. I needed to be more like Kubali. He hadn’t moved a muscle. That was true professionalism.
“We do not believe in a war with the Planet Trade Organization,” said Fenuwe, a seven-tailed Inari. “Regardless, this is troubling news. The children cannot be trusted.”
“Aye,” Shorun agreed. “They’re wildcards. We cannot anticipate their thirst for expansion. But their empires are fragile, being held together by fear, not loyalty. The Arcosians are a good deal less charismatic than they think they are. If they weren’t so strong, their armies would have already turned on them. Only Icer, Yuki, and Kuriza are holding their empire together. Haimaru and Raimie may exist, but they are young and weak, and their planets have been given to them. They could not withstand an onslaught from the Triplets.”
“I think not,” said the God-Emperor’s hologram. “Then it is settled. Good. Go. You shall infiltrate each region, sans the babies’, to attack them whenever I give command. You will overwhelm them no doubt–but before you do, you must cause grave injury to their regions. Destroy dozens of their outposts to cripple their economies and armies. Then we shall invade and relieve you.”
“We serve you, God-Emperor”, the three of them said in unison. A chill went down my spine. There was something off in how they had reacted. I can’t say I know how aliens work, but the three of them sounded like sociopaths in my humble opinion.
“Delay any order; we should not go against them at this stage,” Audacci argued. “The peace has been established. If they find any of the Triplets in their regions, it will start war. What do you all say we vote on it? I vote against.”
Bushuka rose from his bed. “Concur. I will join her. Against!”
“Against,” said Shorun.
Medler the pirate shrugged, his arms folded, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Alright, alright. Against.”
“I am with you, Audacci. This is a bad idea. Against,” said Fenuwe, her voice resolute.
Falufulo’s lip quivered. I knew he was slime. The bastard was from Universe 8. I knew in the end, despite his personal feelings, he would have to choose the will of the J’taro, and that was troublesome, for Audacci lacked the strength to go against the Universe 8 God-Emperor–and yet, here she was, doing that very thing. I couldn’t stop her. They would smite me if I spoke up. “I am with the God-Emperor. For.”
Soglefiẗefyunor An thought for a moment before rising and saying, “I am for.”
I winced. Had An joined our side, we could have won. At the same time, I felt a nagging sense of suspicion about him. He could have easily been in the pockets of Falufulo, or the God-Emperor himself. I knew better than to trust a space pirate’s loyalties (we had Medler on our side, so it’s not like I could in good conscience say much about this).
It was true that her species has just been nearly wiped from existence by the Golden Emperor, but Sorugh emphatically said, “Though it pains me, I must say I am against this motion.”
It was split six to six. No decision could be reached. They would soon adjourn in disgust. Before they did, a curious exchange took place, one which I did not quite understand, even now as I am recalling it.
“Medler, update me on your mission,” said the God-Emperor.
“We spread it on Faeri first. Some got back to Uoto without any of them realizing. Admittedly, it was a beautiful accident.”
“And?”
He grinned a golden grin visible even from the guards’ position. “Oh, it’ll spread. It’ll spread lightning-fast. The plague will crumble their empire, your excellency. You will have no trouble invading them. Just give it a few years’ time. That’ll soften ‘em up enough, I think. Shouldn’t take more than three or four.”
“This is not acceptable! Faeri could be entirely contaminated!” Bushuka interrupted, his face a dark shade of purple. “I have never heard such shit before in my life!”
“We do not care,” replied Lupharzo IV. “I will kill you if you talk ill of this plan again. This is a necessary step to weaken the Planet Trade Organization before invading. If you don’t like it, I’ll find a guard to kill you on your way out.”
Nothing was said, but the quiver of rage was palpable, and not just from the Faerin. Sorun, Medler, and Audacci too were visibly upset. This was probably not going to end well. If it came to blows, the Blue Queen would undoubtedly win, so I wasn’t as tense as some of the other guards.
“Please, sire, do not chastise them. They are ignorant.”
“That may be.”
“They are stupid!” Falufulo’s face was puffing up with air, hiding his forked tongue. “We do not consider ourselves equal to this petty empire. With the removal of Icer, Yuki, and Kuriza, there will be none who can stand in our way.”
“They will declare any attempted poisoning an act of aggression by the Corvos League, and that would be war,” Audacci said. “Are not two deceits enough?”
“Why does that concern you, Hera? Our armies could beat theirs.”
“It would be a costly war,” interjected Bushuka.
The Faerin was right, and his compatriots seemed to be slowly coming to grips with that themselves. They backed off faster than a space viper on sour meat.
“We shall honor the Pax Arcosia for now. Should Bahkaar’s Mist spread through their region, so be it. We have the antidote–Bercharis, Valugua, Kelipho, you’ll be alright. We’ll give you pills to help you pull through should you catch it. But it should decimate them.”
There was much glee among the floating beds. I didn’t know how to feel about it. The Planet Trade Organization was my previous employer and while things had ended poorly between us, I still held onto certain fond memories of my time serving King Cold, and I held high opinions of many who likely still worked there. I didn’t much like the idea of them being destroyed during an assumed time of peace. That was slimy. Several members, mostly those of this universe, were visibly offended.
“Should they find o–”
“They will not.”
“Very well then, sire. What would you propose?”
“That we prepare for their inevitable backstabbing moment by positioning ourselves properly. Bahkaar’s Mist is no joke. They will come begging to us for peace, and we shall absorb their empire into our own when the time comes.”
“And what of Icer? Shall he be spared? Can we even kill him? There have been rumors recently… rumors of his power. We had presumed he was a puppet, not the strongest warrior in the universe,” the Faerin complained.
Everyone ignored him.
“You can assure us that the twins won’t be a problem?”
“No more than I can assure you Kuriza won’t attack us. I have faith that the Golden Emperor will keep his kin in line, but should they ever go out of their way to hurt us… we have full discretion to retaliate. Icer was honest; he wanted this peace more than they did.”
“That’s what worries me,” said Shorun. “Could be Kuriza or Haimaru who ends the peace.”
“In which case the Triplets will be aptly-placed to punish them.” Lupharzo scratched his chin. “Icer, Yuki, and Kuriza are our only fears. But I think our girls from the eighth universe will have them outmatched. The children will stand no chance, and once Icer is isolated, he will be unable to defend the entirety of his territory by himself.”
“The children will indeed fall.” Audacci nodded curtly. “Do as you must. But should you damage major trade planets…”
“You will be compensated accordingly in such a situation,” Byir Forlu said.
“I don’t want monetary compensation.”
“Well, that’s too bad for you, lady.”
“My decision is final.”
Audacci bowed briskly. “As you command, sire.”
Old Falufulo said, “Their empires will hurt for this–a plague of this potency could spread in months. For their defiance, they deserve no better. It could be detrimental, however, to corner them in such a way–could lead to one of them attacking us out of desperation.”
“That does seem likely,” replied the avatar.
Bushuka continued on, ignoring them, “In the meantime, we should attempt to take out Icer however we can. Do we have some kind of poison that could do the trick?”
“He is not so easily destroyed,” Audacci told him. “You could try, but it would be fruitless, and simply set him against us.”
“So he’s not a puppet?”
“He would be a match for almost anyone here. And Arcosians are resistant to many poisons, I have found. Maybe something from Universe 8 could do the trick…”
“We shall look into that,” said the avatar.
There was nothing more to say. We sucked in the perfumed air, admired the garden that had been assembled around us, waited for someone to break the silence. Nobody did. There was no recourse in a mock debate such as this. No one had any say, not even Audacci. She had organized some resistance, but it had not been enough. The Planet Trade Organization would bleed for this, and Icer would likely think something was wrong, or worse… not trust her anymore. She had to know that better than me. What good was forging peace when this was how the rest of the Corvos League leadership was going to act? It was as if they were trying to provoke Icer into attacking them. I did not much see the merit in that.
“I shall expect twenty percent profits for all Nil brought in by my bargaining,” she demanded.
“Granted,” said the God-Emperor, “as thanks for your good work, Audacci.”
“You are too kind, sire.”
“Now then,” continued the God-Emperor, “I will not lie to you and promise everything to be resolved in a few weeks or months. We will need to bide our time and gather our forces without raising their suspicion. Our scientists have also been experimenting with technological improvements to the battle suits which will allow their power signatures to be muffled. That will neutralize our foes’ scouters and turn any conflicts between low-level soldiers in our favor. Finally, as has been recently confirmed to me, the J’taro has allowed us to release twenty percent more of our great ancestors whenever conflicts begin.”
Some murmuring broke out as they talked amongst themselves, but there was nothing distinct that I could hear. The ‘great ancestors’ as they were called were in fact the souls of the deceased God-Emperors. I had learned that years ago. Already thirty percent had been released to attack the Planet Trade Organization. The former God-Emperors had managed to take out several dozen outposts, so their deaths had not been total losses. When Mal Vexus had unexpectedly gone hypernova, it had consumed all thirty percent of the cult of Corvos who had been released upon the universe, and that had done untold damage to our side. The J’taro to this day was displeased about that (again, that’s just what Audacci told me, but I have no reason to doubt her). The ancestors were incredibly powerful, capable of turning anyone they consumed into the same energy-like material as them.
The current God-Emperor had already conducted the ceremony on himself. My queen had revealed that fact a couple months back when she had been unusually drunk. Should he die this very second, his ‘essence’ would be converted into the same matter as the other royal demons. They were, to put it crudely, conscious thirsting energy. They needed to consume the energy of living beings to be temporarily relieved from the pain of their existence in that form, hence the desire for the current regime to unleash them upon the hapless Planet Trade Organization again. When I asked her why the God-Emperors always assumed this form upon death, she laughed and told me it was tradition. They had to be contained in a jar (as doing anything else would be improper, not to mention grossly inadequate); should they be released upon the universe, they would consume all energy they could find until all was dark, or they were defeated, even the energy of supposed allies. They were space locusts, more than anything else. This was not ideal–the former God-Emperors were liable to render many planets uninhabitable after being released, which would ruin the economic potential of this universe. I could see it on their faces. The majority of them did not want this. They could not bring themselves to speak, nonetheless.
The Tepori cleared her throat. “Unless there is anything else, that will conclude today’s meeting.”
Not a one of them objected. Cowards, all. The God-Emperor’s hologram dissolved away. Elder Circle members were getting up and leaving. She had told us not to mention Instant Transmission. We were going to take a ship off Dhennon Xi like everyone else. They were never to know, or it would be our lives. I was not unprofessional enough to have ever been close to failing in that matter. Kubali had not been, either.
We tracked her back to the landing pads, but she lost us in the waiting room. I’m not going to lie, panic did set in for a few moments. Soon into our frantic search for her, we found the Blue Queen on a bridge overhanging a grey canyon leading towards the ships talking to Medler, and we were once again calmed. His golden facial jewelry glinted in the mid-morning light. I found him to be over the top. The Jolean was untrustworthy. His arms folded, he looked bored, as if he were being lectured to. When he saw us approaching, he composed himself, returning his countenance to that of his usual persona.
“Yes, yes, I’ll keep it in mind,” he said, shoving his way past me as we arrived.
“You could have waited, you know,” she whispered before letting out a sigh.
Kubali spoke too loudly. “Apologies, my lady. Was that pirate bothering you?”
“No. Let’s forget about it and head back.”
“As you command, my queen.”
Doing it the old fashioned way was strange, as the last three times I had gone anywhere with her, leading up to this meeting, had been via Instant Transmission. That type of movement was much cleaner than space travel, not to mention safer and faster. I did not wish to return to the pedestrian style of regular space travel. It was a pity we weren’t allowed to use it here, as there was nowhere I wanted to be in that moment but on any planet save for Dhennon Xi. The inanity of the various members of the Elder Circle and their arrogance made me want to punch a wall and break my fist.
I would not be unprofessional on the job. That was not who I was. So I held my tongue, and she didn’t say anything, and Kubali too was silent as a space mouse. We got out of there without anyone suspecting a thing. I suppose that should have been the first red flag–I mean to say, in that moment, I should have known what she was planning just from how she was acting. I confess that I rarely understood what she did, so I could have been way off in my analysis.
The identities of the Elder Circle would not be widely known to most individuals. None advertised their roles, so that was likely the only reason why they were still serving. Some, such as Medler, were braggadocious and drunk and, as pirates, unpredictable. I did not like that, and I don’t think my queen did either.
“I think it’s time we leave. Kubali, you’re driving.”
He wasn’t one to complain. I was happy that I hadn’t been chosen. Never much liked being a pilot. It’s a boring gig. “As you wish, my lady.”
We returned to the Varsavian, a nimble ship that could hold around two dozen crew, but could operate with but a single pilot if needed. It always seemed like this was the ship the Blue Queen used when we weren’t teleporting from planet to planet. Its speed matched that of any other vessel in the dock.
The lights came on suddenly, irritating my eyes, and a groaning of sheer force reverberated through the metal hull. Finding herself a seat in the captain’s chair, Audacci reached for a bottle of fire wine, which had been sinking between the cushion and armrest, and drank from it deeply. When she was satisfied, she threw the empty bottle aside, amber sparks forming around her lips as she fell back against her chair, a troubled look on her face.
“Take us out, Kubali. I don’t want to spend another second here.”
He was a professional guard, I’d give him that. Kubali had the Varsavian in the air before she grew thirsty again. Obviously, Audacci was pissed off by what the God-Emperor had declared–she had forged an alliance in secret with Icer, and seemed to care about him more than the other members of the Elder Circle. I could see where this was heading. I didn’t like it one bit. If it was going to be treason, I might have to run again. Kubali might die for her, but I would not.
As if reading my mind, the Hera looked up at me from her swiveling seat. “Don’t look glum, Puddin. Everything is perfectly fine. You’re going to Pulodan.”
Anyone in the Corvos League knew that to be one of the foremost party towns in the League. Audacci owned the planet of Xanti Lu, and Pulodan with all its winesinks and strip clubs, was by far the most profitable town. I was honored by her gift. Not having to pay meant everything. It had been a good long while since I had last been there. Falling to a knee, I said, “You honor me with this, my lady.”
“You are not going there just to relax, though the both of you have earned that right, as far as I’m concerned. I’m giving you a week to find capable spies who will tail the following members of the Elder Circle: Falufo, Fenuwe, Sorugh, Shorun, Bushuka, and Medler. Their shadowing may take years. Communicate to your chosen associates. They are not to speak a word of this to anyone, nor are they allowed to quit once brought on. Do I make myself clear?”
“Entirely.” She had never asked anything so treasonous of me before. I hardly was able to keep my composure. “But ma’am, why are we doing this?”
“Bahkaar’s Mist. Medler infected the Faereth with it, as well as the Uttovelm. In a few months, it will spread throughout much of the Planet Trade Organization. It’s all fucked. Those imbeciles have ruined half of my trade profits with this fucking idea.”
She found herself another bottle and began drinking from it savagely.
“But why those six, my lady?” asked Kubali.
Wiping her mouth, she said, “The triplets will be deployed into Icer’s Empire. They’ll cause some damage, but they won’t escape with their lives. The J’taro’s warriors aren’t as strong as they think they are. Icer is far more powerful than them, and Kuriza and Yuki aren’t so far behind, from what I’ve heard. They will risk open war against the Arcosians at their own peril.”
“Byir is Lupharzo’s avatar, so she won’t be going anywhere. Wherever he is, she’ll be too.” She got up, hugging her elbows as she retreated to the more comfortable lounge room down the hall from the cockpit. I followed her, as the Varsavian was on autopilot now. “Soglefiẗefyunor An is of no concern to me, as you might have noticed.”
“My lady?”
“Medler will take care of him, Puddin. Don’t you worry.” She drank from the bottle again, coughing up embers as she stumbled up to a comfortable lounge chair in the next room, flopping down in it with a long sigh. “It might take years, but that’s the timetable we’re working with, unfortunately.”
Kubali grunted in surprise. “How many years?”
“I need eyes on these six until Pax Arcosia has ended. Whenever the triplets make their move, I’ll counter them. It’s time the J’taro be put in his place. This is not his universe, and we shall not be his slaves. Did you know that I went to the Venyi Academy in order to get strong enough to challenge him? Graduated as the only member of my class–one of fewer than a dozen to ever do that!–and it’s still not enough.” Her face contorted into something somewhat resembling self-pity. “He has godly power. There must be some way to overcome it.”
I didn’t know what to say–whether to agree or disagree. Either could provoke emotion in her at present. I had to walk a tightrope with my emotions. She was getting drunk. “Perhaps this is too risky an idea to proceed any further, ma’am.”
She looked me dead in the eyes, stopping me cold. “Do it, or I’ll find someone more capable of serving me.”
I bowed, promising to complete this mission for her. Kubali of course was blushing with pride. No thoughts of treason ever entered that hollow skull of his, allegedly. It was nothing to my pride. I knew I was perfectly loyal. She could ask no more of me. Audacci was one of the rare people in the universe who had no need of guards. There were maybe five warriors across the universe who could outclass her, if that. She was safe, much like King Cold had been. He had commanded guards only to stroke his ego, only to serve as ears to his nonsensical rants, to act as servants in moments of dire thirst. The Heran woman was not much different, truth be told.
At least she was giving us a week in paradise to ease the pain, even if just a little.
Three of them were of little concern. Falufulo, Fenuwe, and Sorugh were old friends of Audacci, and thus, she knew their schedules well. All it took was a few space woolongs to get eyes on them. No big deal. Five spies apiece, in strict rotational cycles, allowing them to get plenty of rest each day. Fifteen spies wasn’t a lot to pay, but it was, if we are being honest, more than I had expected, and more than I had accounted for. We could easily afford it, but this was not ideal. It was what she had commanded, so we went along with it.
Shorun, Bushuka, and Medler were something else entirely.
The new members whose fates mattered (and, candidly, I did not believe my lady when she stated with utter certainty that the triplets would be slain by Icer, Kuriza, and Yuki; they would surely get at least one royal kill in my estimation, and might even have time to retreat to the God-Emperor’s location before being attacked by Icer) would cost a lot to surveile.
Medler was by no means hiding his location most of the time (his being the largest pirate fleet in the entire universe, as far as I could tell, it was not hard to pinpoint his location), but he still required several spies, none of whom had yet worked their way onto his flagship. That was messy–they could be found out, or fail to even gain positions on the ship. There was nothing to do but hope right now that those spies would pan out in the long run.
Next was Bushuka, whose leadership of the Order of Melrin gang meant that he spent a lot of time on Faeri, deep in enemy space. Without Faerin spies, there was no way to get close to the man, and so far, there weren’t any offers out there. No one was giving this guy up. He hadn’t seemed very charismatic to me in that meeting, but apparently he commanded great loyalty in his followers. That was unfortunate. The best I could do was put fifteen spies on known associates of Bushuka, but even then, my eyes on this guy were tenuous at best.
And lastly, there was Shorun, the bugman from Universe 8. He was by far the most enigmatic of the members of the Elder Circle. Kubali had been able to find several members of his staff who were willing to come over to our side for a fair amount of space woolongs. There was no way to know if this was for real or not. We simply had to operate as if it were. It was all we could do, and honestly, there was no use wasting willpower on worry in this situation. Kubali and I were of one mind. Yet, there was always that dreadful anxiety in the back of my mind that the ‘spies’ we had working on this guy were not actually on our side. Their willingness to come forward had been too convenient, so Kubali and I had resolved to hire five additional spies of Faerin origin to keep a watch on those guys. It was a lot of money being paid out to a lot of people (all of whom could talk if tortured, we knew), but that was what Audacci had wanted.
On the third night, after having finalized all arrangements with our new employees, we went to a strip club called the Maiden’s Look. I’m not going to lie–Kubali and I got extremely drunk. It was mostly Faerin wine that did it. That stuff is stronger than you would think. I still don’t remember all of it. There was this one Zar-degar stripper (I think her name was Sulani) who kept glancing over to me every time I took a drink of my wine. Blue Curtains had a nice, peaceful atmosphere; the music wasn’t too upbeat.
Kubali kept talking to the bartender, which I found to be unprofessional. She wasn’t exactly keeping things professional herself, either. I saw those winks she was giving him, the way she smirked, how she laughed when he spoke, even if he wasn’t making a joke. I felt some mild annoyance, for I was getting tempted into saying something to her, but for my friend’s sake, that raging fire within me had not grown out of control.
An hour later, as we were getting increasingly intoxicated, none other than Member Falufulo entered the establishment. He was known to frequent Xanti Lu, but we hadn’t seen him here in months. Due diligence was something not everyone had in them. Kubali raised an eyebrow at me. I drank a shot of Nyarin gin. Didn’t want to look suspicious. He walked past us, his nose turned upwards. It was not from his coldness, but more because we were off-the-clock, that I felt no love for the man. He was my lady’s co-member of the Elder Circle, and a veteran member at that. I didn’t care. He was a stuck-up old bastard. And our intel was good. He was not one we had to worry about tailing.
Should Audacci ever need us to spring a surprise on half the council, don’t say I didn’t warn you. But yeah, as far as I can tell, we ain’t doing this for no payoff.
The drunker I got, the more I thought of her, and her plan to assassinate half the Elder Circle. My anxiety was caught in a loop. It was quite mad. It is, isn’t it? I’m not just mad myself, am I? What she was doing was reckless and bold. She had graduated from the Venyi Academy, a legendary martial arts school that accepted only a handful of recruits in every decade or so. If the legends were to be believed (and I am not one to give credence to hearsay), only about fifteen percent of recruits ever graduated. She was supposedly one of them. She had to have some unnatural talent, didn’t she? Still, even if she was stronger than anyone else, I didn’t really believe she could do it all on her own.
I had witnessed her fight on three occasions. The poison had been a nice touch for the Galactic Bank, but her cunning wasn’t nearly as exceptional as her raw power. If it’s true that she’s the daughter of the legendary Bojack, I am not surprised. I don’t think anyone else on the Elder Circle, let alone the God-Emperor, were more powerful than she was. The question was (and this was, in my opinion, what she was ruminating on, and why she had yet to make a move) if she could fight off all of them at the same time, even if they were all significantly weaker than her. That could prove messy, and perhaps not entirely feasible. That must have been why we had been tasked with this job.
Our spies were damn good. I had confidence in them. They would not fail us, or it would be their lives (and ours, unless we disappeared before Audacci found out). Knowing that, they would work to their utmost abilities to complete their task. I was finding it difficult to concentrate inside the strip club. I had hardly heard any of the music, nor retained much of what I had seen in the last few minutes. Kubali was having better luck of it than me. A Sobran girl wearing a skimpy black dress was giving him a lap dance, much to his pleasure. I glanced up at the stand ahead, where three more of them were going at it, but none of them were focused on me.
Not all members of the Elder Circle were equals in combat. Sorugh was a frail old woman, whereas Fenuwe was a problem for probably ninety-nine percent of all fighters in the universe. Kubali and I had stayed up the night before getting the document ready for her to read. I was holding the datapad. We’d finished three days early–that gave us plenty of time to enjoy the city of Pulodan to our hearts’ content. We were hoping to get a few days of heavy partying in before she contacted us.
I believe it was fortunate I was drunk. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and my wild fancies only went so far before burning out, like gas-drinking flames. I hadn’t expected much that night. Can’t say I got what I wanted.
She materialized before our table in a flash of white light, two fingers pressed to her forehead. “Hey, you two.”
Kubali couldn’t help himself. I didn’t blame him, even if usually this sort of thing irritated me. “It’s good to see you, my lady! We did it. Just as you commanded. All of them are shadowed.”
She raised an eyebrow, as if having been taken from an altogether unrelated thought abruptly. “And can be taken out at a moment’s notice?”
“The pertinent details are here,” I told her, handing her the datapad.
Not bothering to check it to make sure we were telling the truth, she pocketed it. “Done already? Not bad. Nice work, you two. You make quite the team. It’s expensive though, I’d imagine. How bad’s the blow?”
“Quite substantial, ma’am.”
“Well, it must be done,” she shrugged. “This is great news. I can’t believe you’re finished already. Well done, well done! Alright, why don’t you two come with me to somewhere a bit more temperate, yeah?”
“I thought we were on vacation.”
She scoffed in offense, grasping Kubali’s arm in one hand, and mine in the other, as we always did. This was a well-practiced technique on all of our parts. I was too drunk to wonder at the time why she did it in front of everyone–any one of the patrons could have been a spy employed by one of her rivals.
Oh well. Sometimes you can get away with stuff like that. As far as I can tell (this being only a short while later that I am dictating this) none of them were, so it worked out in the end. Nothing has come up yet, so nothing is likely to come up at all. I can’t tell you what I thought at the time, for the shock of her having appeared in the bar had not yet subsided before we had teleported away. I was, as must bear repeating, extremely drunk at the time, and not expecting to have to interact with my boss like that. It was kind of awkward; I was entirely aware of how little I respected her in that moment, but what else was there to do but go along with her?
Kubali had no opinion on our treason. It would have been unlike him to speak up. As usual, he went along with everything, never asking questions, nor complaining to me. That was his job, and mine too, truthfully. I found mimicking his apathy to be somewhat difficult.
We appeared in a deserted, stone-paved garden that was sparsely dressed by imported alien trees with splotchy yellow-and-black leaves. The air was warm for me. Not many buildings out here. Skyline wasn’t half bad.
“Planet Icer 002. Don’t make yourselves comfortable. We won’t be here for long.”
It was hard to imagine that we had come to the capital of Icer’s empire. The main outpost was smaller than some fringe outpost worlds I had been to. “Thirty-four in close proximity; twelve are approaching.”
She was the ultimate scout, being able to sense energy readings from far away without needing a scouter. Allegedly, that was something the Venyi Academy had taught her. Lucky for us. When they came running around the corner, Kubali and I sat back and watched her vaporize them. It was remarkable how clean it was. Taken by surprise, they didn’t have enough time to scream as their bodies vaporized to molten specks.
“Err, twenty-two. Kuriza and Icer are just ahead. There are only a half-dozen low-power servants over there. Let’s not spook them, alright?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Follow me.”
She was in a playful mood. That usually meant Audacci was drunk. We followed her in somewhat unwillingly. There was no point being disobedient. She would kill us if we deserted. She was the strongest warrior in the universe. She had to be. That’s why I was still with her. That alone kept me optimistic. Otherwise, I thought very little of our chances. I was sure that Icer would not be pleased by this.
We were especially awkward about it, too. The Arcosians were fighting above the island when we approached, but she did not go up to meet them. Instead, by appearing in the center of the pink marble courtyard, to the left of a sputtering fountain, she made them cease their sparring at once. Having immediately noticed her, Emperor Icer descended.
It was odd for me to see this man named emperor. His older brother had served as emperor during my tenure. He had always been the traveler brother–the one who was never in court on Arcose, like Cold or Arcterial. I had seen little of him, and thus did not trust him. I was unsure if he recognized me, but I assumed not. I think they thought I was dead, if any of them even remotely remembered me.
The pale prince was not far behind him. He looked healthy for his age. They touched down within a meter of her. There was no tension in the air, much to my relief.
He was somewhat out of breath, though he did well to hide it. “Now, look at this! This is a rare sight. A Hera has found her way into my empire. Are you here for good?” She shook her head once. “Then why?”
“The Elder Circle met with the God-Emperor. We discussed the terms of Pax Arcosia.”
“And?”
“They will honor it for now.”
“For now?”
In this time, Kuriza strode up to Icer’s side, scowling at the Blue Queen. “What’s this lady doing here, Uncle?”
“Quiet, boy.”
“There is more to it, I’m afraid. Do you want him to hear?”
“Hear what?!” The boy’s voice had risen in a whining way, much as his father’s had when he had visited his own father on Arcose for favors.
The older Arcosian replied in a quiet voice, causing me and Kubali to have to strain to listen. “Should you speak out of turn again, Kuriza, I will take half your planets from your empire, give them to Yuki, and cease any further sessions we had scheduled.”
“Uncle, you cannot–”
“Behave yourself.”
He grit his teeth and scowled, but didn’t breathe another word. I couldn’t see what Audacci was doing right then, but I assumed she was not hiding her smirk. Unfortunately, guards had to be more professional in these instances. Kubali and I did not flinch. He was eyeing us.
“There are things we must discuss, Icer. Must the boy be here?”
“Must your guards?”
“Yes.”
“Say what you will. He is my heir; I trust him.”
She nodded once. The way in which she did it showed both Arcosians just how drunk she was. It wasn’t too bad, but she wasn’t in great condition. That much was plainly apparent. “They plan to move on you sometime in the future. I have… two, maybe three members of the Elder Council on my side. We cannot stop the rest of them from scheming against you.”
“Do you know when they will strike?”
“The God-Emperor hasn’t said anything yet. You should take this time to fortify your most important outposts. You should find yourself commanders, personally trained if you can manage, who will be able to hold back the hordes should they be unleashed upon your worlds. The God-Emperor will send trillions of grunts against you should open war be declared.”
“Orbital defense turrets are being installed across the empire. Priorities have been given to trade worlds and important military outposts. How long do we have?”
“Can’t say for sure. Maybe five years, maybe three… All I’m saying is you should find yourself several personal guards whom you trust who could fight some of the League’s stronger warriors. Your station commanders and governors, for the most part, will not be able to stop them. You might have to train them yourself in order to get them strong enough.”
“Duly noted.”
The boy was biting his lip, looking like he was dying to say something. In the end, he held his tongue. I was somewhat impressed by that. Frieza had lacked patience, even though he had presented himself as a calm individual. His son was near the opposite.
“They will be more formidable than any enemy you have faced before. The Corvos League has existed for tens of thousands of years, though I admit even I myself do not know all their history. Fifteen thousand years ago a cadet branch of the empire came to this universe from the eighth universe. The force present in this universe is only a small part of their overall strength. They don’t tell us much about the main force in Universe 8. I’ve asked. But they’ve got more power than we do here, I know that. The J’taro has the ability to wipe any being out of existence, even those stronger than himself. Supposedly their forces are ten thousand times larger in Universe 8 than here, but I don’t know if I trust that source.”
“That would be quite extensive.”
“This is no joke, Icer. They will be coming for you. You will have time to prepare–five years, most likely. Six or seven might be pushing it. I can’t guarantee anything. You will have to be ready for war now. Him too. How strong is he?”
“Strong enough to kill anyone on that Elder Circle of yours sans yourself.”
“I doubt that. You don’t know who they are, do you? Fenuwe, for example, is a seven-tailed Inari.”
“I’ve encountered those beasts before. They have never been any trouble. Is she the second-strongest?”
“Yeah. Medler’s third. The kid might be stronger than the pirate, but I’d have to spar him to find out. What do you say, Kuriza?”
“Oh, dear heavens, not on my life, woman!” the boy scoffed derisively, backflipping away to the edge of the courtyard, where he landed on the stone wall, the tops of the blue-and-red broad-leaved trees just reaching his heels. The boy’s tail slapped the air repeatedly in annoyance.
“You’re trembling in the wind, boy” she called out with a whistle.
“Enough, Audacci. Leave him be. He does not wish to fight you.”
“I wonder why,” she replied sarcastically. “What about you?”
That was her drunkenness. Kubali and I exchanged a look. This was not going to end well, most likely. We had never seen these two spar before, so clearly we assumed Audacci would win. It was just the fact that she could probably kill Icer here that weighed so heavily on us. Should she do that, the boy would attack her, and that had only one possible outcome. I didn’t want Kuriza to die. Even though I had left the Planet Trade Organization, I was still fond of certain members of the royal family (Icer not being one of them).
The two suddenly threw themselves at each other. She was slow to make her movements. I had seen her try before, and this was not even close to that. As drunk as she was, she could not hold a disciplined stance. Nevertheless, her flame-teal aura formed around her like a spear, while Icer’s turquoise aura was more defensively adorned around him. He looked unconcerned from the force he had faced so far.
Having folded his arms, the young prince watched from the far wall. We did the same.
At first, Audacci went slowly at Icer, throwing a few roundhouse kicks at him. He blocked, surging forward, jabbing at her with his right fist. The Hera was little able to withstand his blows, and thus did she tumble head-over-heel away from her opponent moments later, spitting blood as she flew. That was never a good sign. I was growing concerned. It was a surprise, to say the least, to witness the Arcosian’s ferocity up close.
Catching herself in midair, Audacci wiped her lip dry. “You’ve gotten better since last time.”
“Shut up and show me how strong you really are, Hera.”
That made her laugh. “You don’t want me to, trust me! I’m your only ally in the Elder Circle, after all. We wouldn’t want you to end up as a puddle of gore this afternoon. There’s so much left for us to do.”
“You’re a bullshit artist—adept, but not great.”
“Oh yeah?”
That was when her spine straightened, and she seemed entirely sober. Her Venyi training (whatever the hell that had entailed) kicked in, and she threw herself at the so-called emperor, her aura surging. I couldn’t sense power, but that was usually a sign that she was raising her’s up.
They disappeared in a blur of light and wind, and sonic booms. I couldn’t see anything that was happening. They had risen far into the air, but otherwise, it was nigh-impossible to tell where they were. For a few moments, the boy stood on the stone wall, craning his neck to the sky, seemingly following the fight. Then, he jumped to our position with startling agility. Landing before me, I hardly had time to react before he bowed decadently.
“They are clearly half a class above us, to put it mildly,” the boy said with a sheepish grin. “Mind if I join you?”
“You’re Prince Kuriza, aren’t you? I’ve heard you rule over hundreds of planets.”
“The empire my father built, to put it more precisely. But yes. Yes, I do.”
“Must be a helluva feeling to rule over all those people.”
I nearly rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help but question Kubali’s mental state. What was he doing, talking like this with the enemy? What would this accomplish other than slander the reputation of the Corvos League? I resolved to tell my lady what he had done once this was over. He deserved to be punished for this.
Kubali was a more veteran guard than I was. He had been here three years longer than I had. He had been on her side before the move against the Galactic Bank. That was a big deal. I couldn’t question his loyalty officially, although if I’m being honest, sometimes I did. He seemed to be, at best, a medium-tier warrior who was disinterested with his job. At least I gave a shit. Even King Cold, though now he lies dead and buried, would attest to my loyalty. It’s what she saw in me, it’s why I rose in the ranks over those other guards she spared that day she poisoned the bankers. I was loyal and dependable, and I knew bullshit when I saw it.
“I would not wish my position upon my worst enemy. All this empire business and planet selling can be remarkably tedious. I wish I could go home and spend my days in quiet relaxation.”
Kubali laughed; I didn’t see what was so funny. Above us, the sky boomed repeatedly.
“You know, it really is funny,” I quipped. “If you are not interested in being an emperor, give it up, and go home, and do what you said you wanted to do. Stop expanding your territory. If you truly believe that’s bliss, go do it.”
He was biting the inside of his lip, looking as if he wanted to shoot a Death Beam through me. I wondered if he would dare. It would be the end of him if he tried. I hoped he didn’t. The boy was the last good one left in the royal family, as far as I was concerned.
“I don’t think so,” he said after a while, his voice thinner than before.
The boy knew enough to obscure his ambition. He wasn’t the foolish monster his grand uncle was. How was it that the stupid ones had survived? Cooler, Cold, and Nitro all would run intellectual circles around this pathetic lot. It remained my firm belief that injustice had been done to the royal bloodline. As a guard at heart, I could barely stand to see it.
“One day, the Corvos League will show the Planet Trade Organization who really rules over the universe.”
In the moment, it seemed as if he had just been overly blunt, as if he had made a drunken remark he would regret the next day. I glanced at Kubali with distress clear in my face. He didn’t look the least bit affected by what he had just said. You must understand, Audacci could have killed him for that remark had she heard it. He was fortunate she was a mile above us. That’s why I don’t think the fucker is as loyal as me. Stuff like that. He slips sometimes–not often, but enough.
“Let that day come when it may.”
That part of him, perhaps, was his father.
A golden flame grew in the cloudless sky, and soon converged against several points. Its light was blinding even from such range. I had no idea how my lady could deal with it. At the same time, however, I felt a cold fear descend my spine. It had been no lie to declare Icer the Golden Emperor. I saw him hover momentarily, his body gleaming like he had been doused in liquid gold, and I couldn’t help but shiver. Like Cooler and Cold, he had achieved a further transformation. I was a little jealous of the Blue Queen, for I could not sense energy in that moment. That could have been foolishness on my part as well, for it was almost as likely that with whatever power boost the emperor had achieved in his new-found form, he could overwhelm her.
She was a graduate of the prestigious Venyi Academy. She would find a way to beat him no matter what. It was my duty to remain confident in her.
“Should you expand into the neutral zone, we’ll kill you. Make no mistake about it.”
“I heard you the first time, minion.”
A moment later, Audacci appeared in a flash of purple light, hitting the ground hard, impacting in a crater, her body bouncing high in the air, and landing on the pink marble of the garden courtyard again. Jumping up with some difficulty, she dodged to the left to avoid a flying kick that came out of nowhere from the emperor. He landed after the unsuccessful attack, walking up to her.
“What’s the matter, captain? Can’t keep up?” he said in a dry tone.
She was breathing hard, spitting up blood; Kuriza giggled, holding a hand up to his mouth. “Now that I see it, I know I shouldn’t have tempted you to go so far… Our business is concluded for the day, Arcosian.”
She took a deep breath, and then used Instant Transmission to immediately reach us. Grabbing ahold of both of our arms, she once more used the technique. The imprint of Prince Kuriza studying her, watching this go down, his tail pointed up in the air, remained with me even as we landed again in the streets of Pulodan.
I felt a little safer in familiar territory.
She took a few steps forward, staggering as if impeded by a horrible wound (or a nasty hangover).
Kubali was quick to rush to her side. “My lady? Are you alright? Do you need medical attention?”
I did the same, lest I be branded a traitor. I knew she was alright already, though. That’s what separated Kubali and me. My awareness was far higher than his. He outranked me due to seniority. He was neither stronger nor smarter than me. The old idiot was, at best, a year out from retirement, and that was putting it conservatively. He should not have been guarding Audacci. He was a familiar face, neither strong nor capable, but she found comfort in that. For all my lady’s strengths, that was one of her faults.
“I’m quite alright, Kubali, really. It’s okay, you needn’t worry.”
He backed away; I was his shadow.
“Was he really that strong, ma’am?”
“Stronger than I could have imagined,” she said after taking a few deep breaths. Then, spitting blood onto the rainy street, she was hardly able to hide the glee upon her face. “Still not a problem.”
“You let hi–”
“Shut up, Kubali. Some things are better left unsaid. Come, let’s unwind for the rest of the afternoon in the Maiden’s Look. How’s that sound?”
“Now we’re talking!”
I couldn’t help but bow myself, and I wasn’t often the bowing type. “That would be much appreciated, my lady.”
The emperor of the Planet Trade Organization was not as strong as a member of the Corvos League. In effect, the war was over. Our side had won. Yet Audacci was, at best, a neutral party amongst the League’s factions. She was looking for something more than them, and none of the damn fools, as clever as they all thought they were, realized what was going on. We had been able to stalk six of them without getting found out. It had been easy–it still was.
If only she had been on the other side, the war would have been over that very day. As it so happened, the war that was soon to spread across the universe over the next several years would be a costly one for both sides. I can’t help but imagine how many trillions could have been saved had Audacci chosen the Corvos League over Icer. As it was, he was subservient to her, but to what end? She still could not fight the J’taro and his existence-erasing abilities. I confess I did not quite understand my lady’s reasoning in this instance. Still, it wasn’t my place to question her. She was smarter than me, and stronger too, so it was her call.
Audacci knew what she was doing. She hadn’t told him about the triplets, nor about the Bahkaar’s Mist. Her cunning in withholding that information had not been lost on me. Icer was a potential rival. She wasn’t in love with him, to put it crudely. She would abandon him if she had to. At least, I had to believe that of her. As far as I could remember, the Planet Trade Organization never looked weaker than it did in that moment.
Lucky for Icer, and all those loyal bastards under him, they were not going to be exposed any time soon.
Chapter IX: Wrath of the Gods[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Lychin |
| Position: | Governor in Icer's Empire |
| Date of account: | September 18, Age 767 (first scene) October 14, Age 767 (second and third scenes) October 22, Age 767 (fourth scene) |
We had been wearing zero-G suits to prevent further contamination. Lot of good that seemed to be doing. Most of the populace neither possessed nor had access to the suits (we hardly had enough for the soldiers as it was), so it should come as no surprise that the plague had spread rapidly through Faeri over the previous weeks. The outbreak had been unprecedented. We could not stop it. There was no cure, obviously, but none of our medicines were having any slowing or healing effects, either. If you caught it, you died. Simple as that. Didn’t matter what your power level was.
I, along with my colleagues, had been woefully unprepared for Bahkaar’s Plague. Everyone in the damn empire had been. It was our fault for not protecting our people, and I’ll not try to shift blame away from those in leadership positions, but how could anyone have anticipated this galactic catastrophe? So soon after Pax Arcosia, this particular twist of the knife hardly felt real.
Eldrin had succumbed a little more than a week ago. The last Great Council of Faeri had comprised only five members. It felt emptier than ever in those meeting chambers. Worse yet, Jahu was soon going to be pulled away on assignment. I was not envious of being left alone with Saphodine and the rest. Imbe would be by my side, although honestly, she provided little comfort beyond what any robot trained to do the same would have.
No word from the emperor had reached us. Even so, we had formally declared our withdrawal from Mithran and had begun relocating to the closer of the two moons, Vyrelian. There, we would coordinate the quarantine and decontamination of Faeri through any means necessary. Those who had escaped the plague were being ferried to the moon (with run-over locations being set up on Naelan, the other moon). There were no answers yet–those who were infected were simply going to die–but at least we were able to track the spread. Blood scans at quarantine checkpoints were one hundred percent accurate in determining if a person was infected, even if they were not yet showing signs of deterioration. I won’t deny reports that the nobles were prioritized during the exodus. We had to keep the elites safe.
It had come out of nowhere, hitting us like a punch to the jaw. A fifth of the planet’s population was infected or dying. Many had perished already. Many more would join them before this was over. No species were immune to it, as far as we knew, or resistant against it. After catching the plague, the infected had between five and eight weeks left to live. No exceptions.
There was a rumor going around that the outbreak had started in the Radiant City Hotel in Mithran. Don’t know how accurate that was, but I remember the capital being hit hard at the onset of this crisis. The Order of Melrin, a shadow gang of ill repute and treasonous inclinations, was known to operate out of there. Dozens of gang members had been amongst the first wave of infected. Eldrin had been, too. Because of that, some thought he had been one of them. I didn’t believe it. Farneth had never acted against the best interests of our people, as far as I was aware, and he hadn’t struck me as the disloyal type. Unless I was presented with clear evidence of his involvement with the gang (beyond the aforementioned coincidence), I would not slander the man’s name.
It was a suspicious coincidence; I was not blind to the implications. Still, I doubted the Melrin gang had brought Bahkaar’s Plague to Faeri. They were traitorous, not suicidal. It had originated on Uoto, and that meant that somehow, someone had transported an infected Uttovelm to Faeri to keep the game going. Though I was not a conspiracy theorist by any stretch of the imagination, I would be a fool to declare the Corvos League blameless without a proper investigation. Something felt off about how this had gone down. The plague’s suddenness and scope could not be ignored. The Corvos League, more than any other group, benefited from the outbreak, and so they had to be our primary suspects.
Those members of the Order of Melrin who had been taken to the hospitals in recent weeks went to their graves without saying a word about what had happened. Why, even on their deathbeds, had they refused to speak? It’s possible they didn’t know anything. They could have been the targets for all we knew.
The infected were dying in droves. Bodies were piling up. There was nothing we could do. I had heard reports that the plague had spread to other worlds in Lord Icer’s region. No doubt the trade routes had been compromised. Things were looking bleak. The very fate of the empire was in peril, and it felt like nothing we were doing was working.
The Director-General of medical affairs, Temaya, had been put in charge of the evacuation efforts. When the infected had begun dying off by the tens of thousands (about three weeks after the first reported case), we convened the Great Council of Faeri and granted her team emergency powers to manage the epidemic. As we were not doctors, we could do naught but defer to the experts. I remember that day vividly: the five of us and Temaya in the council chambers, the lights dimmed, Saphodine somberly reciting the edict, her voice echoing through the almost empty halls, our guards and servants waiting outside.
Going to Vyrelian would be the right choice. We were planning to fly there as soon as the meeting concluded. It was no longer safe on the surface. We had stayed behind while the rest of the population was being evacuated, but as the situation became more dire, we were forced to swallow our pride and join them. It was a concession I had not wanted to make. For some reason, I had felt that if we abandoned Faeri, we would never return. Temaya promised me it wouldn’t come to that. I wanted to believe her.
On the way to our ships, our entourage was ambushed. Our guards had surrounded us in a box formation. Meiquano and Calansi were discussing the Nil trade, and Saphodine was talking to me about preserving the historical records at Ikestal when the window to our right shattered. In through the gaping hole flew a swarm of Leqiri. Every one of them was at least four weeks infected, their usual reddish shells having turned sickly grey, black creeping death having manifested like mold around their mouths, eyes, and nose holes. They reeked like carcasses and never spoke. Their despair was palpable.
It was surreal watching one of the afflicted rip a guard in half in front of me. There was so much blood. I feel sick, remembering it. His suit was torn open, exposing him to the infection. He was fortunate to have been killed in the attack–better to go out quickly than to waste away like these Leqiri. The other guards took a step back, unwilling to engage the rabid beasts in close combat.
“Cravens,” Jahu said as she stepped forward, purple energy forming in her hand. She threw it at the nearest bug, reducing it to dust. “Destroy them all!”
Her command, however, was not well-heeded. These guards had not been exposed to combat before, nor were they in the same desperate situation as their foes. Don’t get me wrong, they were terrified of coming down with the plague, but it wasn’t only that. The Leqiri knew they were already dead. They had nothing to lose. They would attack with a reckless savagery that our guards could not hope to match.
Why they had ambushed us, I will never know. It could have been one last attempt to enact revenge on the upper-city Faereth whom they had always despised; or, it could have been their attempt to steal the antidote from us. Fools. If only we had it, we wouldn’t be wearing our space suits.
As expected, the bugmen from the undercity set upon us with a ferocity that the inexperienced guards were unaccustomed to. Most of them died that day. Disorder overtook us. The spicemaster ran to Jahu, cowering behind her as the right flank was overwhelmed by the wheezing masses. Guards fell screaming and bleeding, energy blasts flew down the hall back and forth, smoke rose around us, and then two or three Leqiri broke through the line, making for those of us in the middle.
Taking a tight hold of Imbe, I raised one palm, blasting the nearest one to ash. More were breaking through. Jahu was busy on the right. Meiquano was a weak boy, and a coward too. He would lead us to death were he in charge. Though he tried to fight back, he was too weak to stop them. I pushed the girl behind me and took command of the left flank. Three or four of them were running freely past the line of guards (who had been reduced to chunks of bloody meat).
It was impossible in that moment for me to hit all of them. There were too many. I vaporized three in quick succession, but another fell on top of Saphodine and savaged her through her armor before I was able to shoot it off. Even as I killed that Leqir, I saw out of the corner of my eye another jump onto Meiquano and take him down, pounding his helmet against the ground three or four times before I could fire an energy beam at it.
I nearly stopped breathing until the boy sat up. There was no time to feel relieved.
“Get down!”
The guards before him had been butchered. A lot of good they had done us. With a sweeping blast, I cooked the remaining Leqiri charging from the left. Jahu took care of those who were ahead of us. Some of her guards had managed to survive. The spicemaster and my steward were shaking. I couldn’t blame them. They weren’t warriors. They had been seconds away from ending up like poor old Saphodine.
We vaporized her, said a few words–don’t want to go into that. It was a shame, what happened to her.
Same could be said of Meiquano. It was only as we were preparing to leave that Jahu noticed the crack in his visor. He had been contaminated. So Meiquano did not come with us to Vyrelian. Instead, he was to remain on the planet to receive treatment. We all knew what that meant. The boy was as good as dead. We would never see him again.
He begged us to take him, tears in his eyes, swearing he felt fine. Blah, blah, blah. He knew as well as we did that he wouldn’t feel the corruption for two weeks. Still, he begged. He had no other choice. Neither did we. Only three members of the Great Council of Faeri remained.
On top of that, Jahu was about to leave me. I eyed the spicemaster, who looked uncomfortable with his feet still on Faeri. Was he really to be my only counsel from here on out? I couldn’t allow it. I planned on contacting the emperor about filling the vacant council seats as soon as we reached the safety of the moon.
I was proud to have saved the girl, but if she had died, as Saphodine had, I don’t think I would have felt half as bad for her as I did for the Elder Statesman.
“My lord, the meeting will begin in twelve minutes. Shall we leave?”
“Not yet. We have time.”
Imbe and I had been lounging in my hotel room since lunch. It was nice, that old feeling, being out of my suit. I wasn’t keen to put it back on. This was my first visit to Vyrelian–an embarrassing thing to admit as governor of Faeri, but true. More humid than I would have guessed, but otherwise not much different from our homeworld. There had been no time to explore anywhere beyond the hotel complex we were staying in (especially not in a time like this), so I can’t say I knew much more about it now than I did three months ago.
Since coming here, I had grown anxious and nostalgic. A creeping desire to go back, to see my parents again, to forget what had happened these past months and spend my remaining days in quiet seclusion, was festering in me. If only that were possible. All the space woolongs in the universe could not have paid for my fantasy. Being the one everyone looked to for decisive policy-making was a tiring role to play day in and day out.
We were about to depart when my mother called to inform me of Aunt Guanaba’s death. I had been aware of her infection, but she had barely lasted five weeks. I had hoped there would have been more time… that maybe I could have seen her again before she passed. Everything was going to shit so fast that it was becoming difficult to remain present and focused on the task at hand.
“Is something the matter, sir?”
“No, nothing. Let’s go.”
Imbe had to have been at least somewhat aware that I had gotten bad news, but she did not probe for information. Having neither a mate nor offspring, not to mention my years stationed on imperial outposts, I hadn’t had much experience with young people. Whether she was oblivious or biting her tongue, I could not know for certain, though it was my opinion that she was a tactful girl. She strapped on my cape, helped me into my zero-G suit, and we left.
The Madulen Hotel in Seirman (the capital of Vyrelian) was our base of operations. It was supposedly quarantined, but if a breach were to occur, we wouldn’t know until it was too late, just like everywhere else. My suit was a little tight, and it itched. I was looking forward to returning to my room. The girl never complained, nor spoke out of turn. Her mother had taught her well.
It was a short walk to the hotel’s auditorium, where the other council members had gathered: Jahu, Calansi, Baboca (the governor of Vyrelian), and Temaya (who, as Director-General of medical affairs, had seen her role elevated in recent weeks). Technically, Meiquano lived, but he wouldn’t last much longer.
At present, the council was much to Lord Icer’s pleasure. The number of seats had been reduced from six to five per his request. I knew neither of the new members. Before this crisis began, I hadn’t even heard of Temaya. Baboca’s name had come up in reports on occasion, and I’m sure I’d met the man in person at some point, but we had never talked for more than a few minutes, if that. Who knew for certain if they were loyal? Although I respected Icer’s judgment, I could not blindly trust his appointees. They would need to prove themselves.
Imbe served everyone tea before taking a seat just out of view of the video monitor. We murmured hellos–nothing too formal. Today marked the first time the governor and the Director-General had taken part in a Great Council. Agitation was thick in the air. Nobody was looking forward to this.
The table-sized monitor came on, and the lights split into four dozen squares, indicating how many governors and senior officers would be involved. Many voices could be heard clashing and rising against one another. In the middle of the screen, in a larger square, loomed the emperor. He was sitting behind a plain wooden desk with naught but a scouter and datapad on it, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded.
His voice silenced their inane babble. “Is everyone here? Good. Let’s get started.”
“Where would you like to begin, sire?” asked Governor Ureigo.
“The zero-G suits will not sufficiently contain the plague. Replace them with something better–something that has the defensive capabilities of our standard-issue armor and a zero percent chance of being contaminated. We’ll need suits for every soldier in the empire. Whoever’s job that is, get to work. You have six months.”
Murmuring spread through the squares. We did not join in. Faerin grace was well-known throughout the empire. Baboca’s chair squeaked, and for a second, I thought he would say something. He merely waved Imbe over to refill his cup. I didn’t know what Jahu meant by giving me so many side-glances. The others were glued to the screen, though that didn’t stop Calansi from sucking on his Nil stick every so often.
Retirement had grown more enticing to me since Bael’s death. I had been worn down by the grind of politics. I couldn’t endure many more years of this. At the very least, we were living in a time of relative peace. Aside from the plague, we had little to worry about. The Corvos League was the only threat to the empire. I could not let my emotions overwhelm me. A one-track mind can think up the most ingenious solution to get its way. I had to be honest with myself. It was not time to go. Not even close. Many years would pass before Imbe was ready to take my seat.
On-screen, doctors and medical experts argued over how to best contain Bahkaar’s Plague. Temaya rose to her feet and joined the fray. I respected her assertiveness, though I could not match it. They spoke in technical terms, and it almost felt like they were doing so to keep the rest of us from jumping into the conversation. Lord Icer listened patiently. I tried my best to emulate him, but that was no simple task. This was a tedious topic, the kind where one’s mind wanders even when trying to stay focused. They were discussing quarantine stations, planetary lockdowns, containment protocols, and the like. Predictable policies, albeit much-needed, and well beyond my area of expertise.
Afterwards, they debated at length over the continued need for orbital defense platforms. Again, we held our tongues, for Faeri’s had been installed weeks ago. Commander Salan, an officer who had formerly served in Arcterial’s Empire, had been put in charge of the operation. He promised to work with the doctors to ensure his teams remained sterile, to protect the populations of the planets they were to visit. The governors raised no arguments against this, as far as I recall. The emperor had ordered it to be done, and so it would. In my opinion, the turrets were essential for maintaining peace. The emergence of Bahkaar’s Plague was no reason to abandon them.
Governor Karukadu of Planet Frieza 128 (he had served Lord Kuriza before the civil war, when the imperial borders had been different) objected to the notion only after it had been agreed upon. “The plague is highly contagious. What if the engineers working on the guns are infected? They’ll doom an entire planet. No, the risk is too great. It’ll happen at some point, whether you plan against it or not. Someone will break quarantine, and the effects will be devastating.”
“You’re just bitter there aren’t any turrets coming to your outpost, Karukadu!” jeered Governor Ran Thembii. His homeworld of Peregari, which he presided over, had had its turrets installed within the past month. Thus, I found his response dishonorable, although I didn’t disagree with his assessment of the other man.
My thoughts drifted. A month from now, everyone left on Faeri would be dead. Maybe we could return in a couple years and start over. Our numbers would be greatly reduced, but we wouldn’t be gone. I would make sure of that. Lord Icer had made me governor for a reason. He had left the fate of my people in my hands; I would not fail him; I would not allow us to perish. Those of us on Vyrelian and Naelan would survive. The Faereth had endured worse in the past. This would not be our extinction event. It couldn’t be.
They once more discussed the quarantine stations. The thought was that they would be installed along with the orbital turrets. Priority would be given to those few planets that had already received their defenses. This favored us, as it did Ran Thembii, so of course, he too kept his mouth shut. Karukadu had been screwed over a second time. He didn’t dare fight back again.
Travel to planets without quarantine stations would cease at once. Shipments that had gone through quarantine would become available in the coming months, after checkpoint stations (not tied to any planets) were raised across the empire. There were no objections. Our stations would have to be set up on the moons.
Trillions would die, even with these policies put in place. Nobody would say it, but we all knew it: despite our best efforts, the plague would continue to spread until a cure was found. If it hadn’t been a sneaky, backhanded move by the Corvos League, it was about the most fortunate thing that could have happened from their perspective, following Pax Arcosia.
Felt a little too convenient to me.
Temaya and the other medical experts were still engaged in a lively conversation about the quarantine policies, though from time to time, they discussed creating a cure. Icer interjected every now and then, I remember, but I couldn’t understand most of what they were talking about. It was all beyond me. I daydreamed a bit, I’m not going to lie.
Once they were finished (or so I assumed), Nil-addicted Governor Amontchi, who presided over Atjoh, said quite bluntly, “We’ll install the requisite quarantine stations, but after our runners have been confirmed to be plague-free, the spice will flow. With all due respect, sire, the spice must always flow.”
“I expect nothing less,” replied Lord Icer. “And the same from Ctaedi, Ureigo.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Priority will also be given to several of the more productive agricultural worlds. Quarantine stations will be built on those planets first. The empire must not starve during this time. Outposts that cannot sustain themselves without resupplies will be given second priority.”
“I’ll get right on it!” someone said. Didn’t recognize the voice. It was feminine. Sounded vaguely Jolean, but I could have been wrong.
Young Governor Pulasa, a Faerin who reigned over Planet Cooler 029, coughed his way into the conversation, slick as a seival. “My friends, we must not neglect another pressing issue: on any outpost or planet which the plague has verifiably spread to, all space pods, saucers, and transport vessels must be destroyed. Elsewise, infected soldiers, panicking, thinking not of their peers, may attempt to escape before being placed into quarantine. The ramifications of such actions would be calamitous. I humbly request this to be issued as an imperial decree.”
“Ah, yes. That is a most reasonable request. If we are to contain the plague, we must, every one of us, make sacrifices! Ships can be rebuilt, but good, loyal soldiers are not so easily replaced. Yes, we must do this for the sake of the empire,” said Baboca in a deep, dramatic tone. He stood and bowed and returned to his chair. Jahu gave me another look.
Ureigo nodded from his virtual square. “Agreed.”
Then others joined in with eagerness and vanity, hoping to be heard, their voices clashing even in agreement. I decided against adding anything to the conversation. If he wanted to speak for us, so be it. Baboca was older than me, and I had a sneaking suspicion that he assumed he was the council’s senior officer. That title belonged to Jahu, actually. She had served for three years longer than I had. Yet, because I was governor of Faeri, I was the de facto leader. I would need to speak to him about this later.
I sipped my tea dry before waving Imbe over to refill my cup. Perhaps my hand was too forceful in its gesture. I didn’t want them to notice my rising temper.
For what it was worth, I wasn’t against the motion. Baboca speaking for the Great Council, having never so much as said a word to Jahu or I since his promotion, had been what had irked me. Temaya too had been headstrong, though not without good cause. While I didn’t trust her, I had, also, no reason to doubt her. Regardless, we could have done without Baboca’s bloviating.
I considered having someone tail him.
Making her rounds, Imbe tried not to appear on camera. The meeting continued for a long while. By now, foolhardy officers had started begging Lord Icer for one thing or another (provisions, or soldiers, or guarantees of food shipments). Was a tedious affair, embarrassing to overhear. Some really tried. Some came close to tears. That’s not to say anyone actually went that far, for to do so risked immediate demotion, but there were those who flirted with destiny. The emperor remained unmoved. With a shudder, goosebumps spread across my back.
I was thinking of that mole on Marella’s cheek, how coquettish she would become when twisting her neck just so, when he finally put an end to it. Lord Icer ordered us to send updates three times per day before vanishing into the black. He had looked tired to me, though I could not be certain. Polaria too had been difficult to read, even when knowing how she was feeling. There was something unemotional, yet fluid, in the way the Arcosians conducted themselves. Maddening, really. No point trying to analyze it, I had learned long ago.
The emperor signing off felt premature. Seconds later, three quarters of the outposts had logged off. Imbe was busy serving Calansi more tea, so we did not join them. During the delay, I became curious. At long last, Imbe walked over to the console and prepared to disconnect us when I raised a hand. Most of them had left by now. The trickle continued at a meandering pace. I attributed those last few disconnections to snoozing officers who had barely contributed.
Seemed to be the case for all but one–the connection to Planet Cooler 029. Governor Pulasa had raised his voice earlier, so there was no way he had fallen asleep. And he hadn’t been drunk. We remained in the call until it was only us and him. He said not a word. Twelve minutes after the emperor had adjourned the meeting, Imbe severed the connection. I wonder to this day why it came to that.
Now that we were alone, Imbe brought out a bottle of chillrose wine from Age 713. An excellent choice. Would’ve been worth more than a planet had it been up for sale. The council drained their cups in silence. Tension mounted; I waited for someone to take the initiative. Knew it wouldn’t be Jahu. Not her style. She’d sit back, observe the situation, and offer her judgment only after the rest of us had had our turns. I was keener to hear from our new members. Calansi, too. As of yet, he had not mustered the energy to engage himself in matters unrelated to the Nil trade. That was a prime example of the problem I had with Lord Icer’s hires. I wouldn’t say his choices had been poor, but Calansi and Temaya seemed little interested in anything unrelated to their areas of expertise. I expected much more of the governor with three chins.
He did not disappoint. I leaned back in my chair, savoring sweet Sorum chillrose on my lips. “These quarantine zones must be installed across Vyrelian immediately. First and foremost, we need one here–outside this hotel. The politicians must be kept safe.”
“Salan’s team will be here in a few days,” Jahu replied. She could hardly mask her indifference.
Doctor Temaya cleared her throat. “It will take some weeks to get these stations up and running, governor. Until then, we must continue as we have been. Make the populace aware of the official health and safety protocols and lead by example. This is a vital point, everyone. Do not deviate from the current policies. Do not say anything that could incite fear or worry the public. We are safe. They must know that. No one who has been granted entry to the moon has been infected. No matter the cost, our standards must not change.”
“Send the rest to Naelan, damn it! Tell them we’re full.” Baboca had a foul look on his face.
“We’re not. Not even close. Vyrelian’s at around forty percent capacity,” Temaya said, “give or take a few percentage points.”
“All uninfected will be granted entry. We have a duty, not only to our people, but to the empire, to save as many lives as we possibly can. And we will.” My eyes locked with Baboca’s. “Nobody will be sent to Naelan until we’ve run out of room.”
I don’t believe he was convinced. “As you say, governor. Just make sure none of them are infected. We can’t afford another outbreak.”
“We’re being as careful as we can be.”
“Governor Arzan should really be here,” complained Baboca. “I know he’s not a member of the Great Council, but Naelan is greatly concerned in these matters. He could offer a unique perspective.”
“I’ll bring him on next time,” I promised. “For now, are we good, or are there any questions?”
“I’m assuming the Nil will continue flowing at its pre-plague rate, given what the emperor said. Is that a wise assumption, Governor Lychin?” the spicemaster asked.
Almost biting my tongue, I wondered why Icer had put him on the council. Had it been to merely fill a seat? With there being only five of us now, he wielded significant power and influence. It could be that the Nil trade was that important to the emperor. I did not know where Baboca and Temaya lay on the loyalty scale, but he had recommended the former, and the latter had been a no-brainer addition, given the circumstances. The three of them had one similarity, though: they weren’t shy.
Jahu cleared her throat. “We haven’t gone over the reports from Faeri, yet. Shall we?” I nodded, feeling my ears go red. “The undercities are completely lost. Not a single Faerin or Leqir down there has been found uninfected.”
Imbe poured me another. My concentration slipped further; I swirled the wine, trying to catch my reflection in the crimson. A fine vintage, this. Shame the bottle would soon be empty. Temaya said, “The infected will not persist much longer. Once we have found a cure, we will send teams to vaporize the bodies and decontaminate the planet.”
“How many casualties should we expect?”
“The plague’s still spreading, governor. We won’t know for months, possibly years. The worst-case scenario simulated by my team resulted in a death toll of nearly eighty percent. It’s unlikely to come to that with the new quarantine protocols… but realistically, we should expect to lose about half the population.”
My chair squeaked noisily as I turned to face her. “Nine hundred million on the high end? That is an obscene number.”
“The plague is both highly infectious and lethal. If we do not take this threat seriously, it can and will eradicate all life in the empire, and possibly the universe.”
“Bah, this isn’t a disease. It’s chemical warfare–I’ll say it if no one else will!” Baboca huffed.
“Unless you can prove that, there’s no point bringing it up,” Jahu said.
I agreed. “It would be unwise of us to provoke hostilities in this time of peace. Watch your tongue.” My thoughts drifted to Marella. I resolved to visit her later. She and her daughters (much to Imbe’s delight) were staying in the same hotel complex as the council. It was only a short walk from my room to hers. My fingers drummed on the desk, betraying my impatience. “In any case, we should move on to other matters. The evacuation of Faeri will continue until there is no one left to save. Governors Baboca and Arzan will accommodate as many of the refugees as possible. Remember, Baboca–I am still Governor of Faeri. You report directly to me. You will take as many refugees as possible. That’s my order.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Should there be more refugees than we have room for on either moon, there are any number of nearby outposts that can take them in. We will not let anyone die whom we can save. Do you understand?”
“We gotcha, man.” Jahu was leaning far back in her seat while sipping tea–a dangerous proposition, to be sure.
“Are there any other issues we need to address, or shall we reconvene on the morrow?”
His face had gone a deep shade of indigo, and his forehead was sweating, but still Baboca had something to say. I was beginning to regret his addition to the team. “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. It’s that damn Order of Melrin.”
“What are they up to now?”
“Their unauthorized vessels have been dropping off cargo in the city of Thindarhal on a daily basis. We have tried to stop them, but it’s no simple task. They are persistent as ziller beetles, entering from every port across the moon, bribing port overseers and using stolen vessel IDs to get around the quarantine protocols. They have also been paying sterile resupply vessels to transport their goods. If this is not put to a stop, the plague will breach Vyrelian. Of that, I am certain.”
The admiral remained impassive as ever. “No need to chase after ships. If we wipe out the gang, they’ll stop coming.”
“We have no idea who most of the Melrin gang are. Those we do know of are living in practically every major city, although the majority are in Thindarhal. I don’t believe it’s feasible for us to hunt down every last one of them. Their numbers are likely in the thousands.”
Jahu raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see the problem. Capture a few high-ranking guys we know about, chain them up, give them an ultimatum, and wait. They’ll talk. They always talk. We move on the Melrin gang only after we have every name. Lychin, give me the order, and I’ll capture you some prisoners. I’ll get them talking before their buddies know they’re gone.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, admiral, but let’s wait on that. No open hostilities until the evacuations are complete,” I said. “For now, we will come at them from two different angles. Baboca, Jahu, you will set up a meeting between us and the highest-ranking members we know of. Get them on our side without alerting anyone else in the gang. While you work on that, spies will infiltrate the Order of Melrin, not only to keep an eye on the turncoats, but so that we can corroborate any information they give us. Does anyone have any connections to the gang?”
Silence followed. Spicemaster Calansi took a deep hit from his Nil stick. Impressively, he didn’t cough.
“I may have a way in. The Melrin gang buys some spice from me. Once a week. You could use one of my Nil runners to get inside their hideouts. He used to be one of them, but needed money, you see, so he came into my employ. He’s been making the trip to their manse in Thindarhal at the start of every week. They’re quite familiar with him. If you pay me, say, ₩60,000, he’s yours to command.”
I eyed Calansi as I finished off another cup. Imbe stepped forth to refill it, but I waved her away. I needed to remain conscious for Marella. I wasn’t sure I could trust him. What did he stand to gain from losing a customer and employee? Was it for the good of the empire? Did he too fear that the Melrin gang would bring the plague to Vyrelian? Lord Icer had appointed him, and I trusted the emperor. Therefore, I would trust Calansi for now.
“Very well. Have him come to my room at sundown. What’s his name?”
Calansi took another hit from his stick before responding. His cheeks grew bright, almost pinkish, as he held in the vapor, savoring it, before exhaling a rolling tide of smoke. “Maquin, my lord.”
“I’ll send you the frequency for my private scouter channel later.”
He nodded.
Baboca cleared his throat. “If this solves the problem, good. If not, we will proceed with Admiral Jahu’s plan. Those disloyal seivals will not contaminate Vyrelian.”
“Agreed,” I said.
Behind me, the girl was fidgeting. Truthfully, this had been a tediously lengthy conference, and I too was growing restless. As there were no other matters to discuss, the council was adjourned, and we went our separate ways. Imbe and I were the last to leave. Four glasses of wine before dinner had not been one of my finer ideas. My thoughts strayed to Marella, the ramifications of the meeting melting away instantly. Imbe helped me out. She gave me a cup of water flavored with velin (a type of green-skinned citrus fruit native to Faeri). Classy girl.
There was some ease in knowing what I had to do. Orchestrating the evacuation of my homeworld was a monumental task, yet it was a known problem with a known solution. I did not envy Temaya and the others. They would have to create a cure, and fast. If not, we were doomed. I would not be the governor of Faeri, the one lost to infamy and time, who presided while a plague infested the planet, rendering it uninhabitable.
No matter how long it took, we would find a cure. This would not be our end.
Over the previous months, I had grown fond of Marella. Since I had spared her life, we had met up five or six times, usually to discuss Imbe or the division of Bael’s estate. There was something about her–not warmth, exactly, but a classical, Mithranian homeliness–that I adored. I contacted her after leaving the council, and she agreed to join me for dinner. We didn’t have many choices, stuffed up in the hotel complex, although being governor afforded me certain luxuries, even during times like these.
I dismissed the girl for the day and found her mother near the eastern boundary of the quarantine zone. I brought with me a bottle of wine from the vineyards of my parents’ estate. It was a sweet wine. I hoped she would like it. If so, I would show her the other.
Marella was examining a war memorial, wrought of black stone, to those Faereth who had lost their lives in an ancient conflict against Jolean pirates. Whenever marauders came for Faeri, it fell to Vyrelian and Naelan to serve as the first line of defense.
This memorial was for a specific event in Age 382 when it had seemed, almost, as if all of Atjoh had unleashed itself upon us. The moons had taken the brunt of the attack. It is said that close to ninety percent of Vyrelian’s residents were murdered in that battle. It’s a point of pride for anyone to be able to show they are a descendant of the survivors. I had no such pedigree, but Jahu might have. I vaguely recall us discussing it, but I could be misremembering.
Watching her from afar, I spied a young man with light blue hair approach her. He wasn’t wearing a space suit. They appeared to know each other. The longer they talked, the colder my blood ran. I scanned him with my scouter and sent the information to Maquin, the Nil runner whose services I had purchased from Calansi. I would not only use him to track down the leaders of the Order of Melrin. He would become my new assistant if he proved to be as skilled a spy as the spicemaster had made him out to be.
I hoped it wouldn’t take the boy long to find out who this Jaguan was. He couldn’t have been anyone important if I hadn’t heard of him before, so why was she meeting with him? And why out in the open where I, or someone else, could see?
Jaguan left without a hug or a handshake, though he was in high spirits as he returned to the hotel. I was dying to know what they had been talking about. Meanwhile, Marella had re-focused on the memorial stone. I waited for Maquin to reply, but nothing came. He might not have understood my message’s priority. He would be corrected on that later. I didn’t want to call him, for I was running late. Nonetheless, uncertainty gnawed at my brain.
Taking a deep breath, a flush on my cheeks, I put my scouter on silent mode and walked over to her. She wasn’t startled by my presence, thankfully. My heart was aflutter; I was concerned she would feel that when her chest pressed against mine. I had an excuse ready if she brought it up, but luckily, she did not.
“The Spicelord’s Gambit, I think it was called,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She was running her finger across the names of the fallen etched into the stone. “King Kieno was a drunken, vainglorious pirate. And he was as powerful as he was charismatic. He united a thousand Jolean crews as well as scores of warriors from his homeworld. Commanded the largest pirate gang in all the universe at the time. They pillaged and burned any planet they came across, leaving no survivors. He was a generous king who apportioned most of the plunder to his crew. Because of that, they followed his every command. And so he brought them here.
“In those days, rumors of our wealth had reached the Joleans, though I suspect, in their minds, they conjured up images of treasure hordes–jewels and precious metals–far beyond what we actually possessed. Anyways, he attacked us with everything he had, and every last one of them died in the battle. At great cost, we held them off. While his crew fought off the garrisons of Vyrelian and Naelan, Kieno and his elites flew past the moons and raced down towards Faeri. In their greed, they underestimated our defenses. Tens of thousands of soldiers were waiting for them. The Joleans never set foot on Faeri, and the spicelord’s body was never found. He surely burned up in the atmosphere.”
“Couldn’t he have escaped?” She didn’t sound entirely disinterested.
“We recalled our fleets from around the solar system, and they ensured the pirates could not retreat. The moons took great losses in the fight, though. If those garrisons had been his sole opposition, he might have been successful. What a shame. Had Kieno survived, I’m sure he would’ve popped up in the historical record at some point. The man was driven by pride and avarice. He was too full of himself to disappear. No, he was killed in the battle, and the pirates never attacked us again in such numbers, for they feared our strength.”
She giggled, which I found most agreeable. We discussed the history of that ancient war for some time. Only after my belly audibly rumbled did we set out for a restaurant. She picked the Spicy Muscle. There weren’t many choices, but there were enough for us to dine at a different place each day of the week. I hadn’t been to that restaurant in a while. They served various meats that had been slow-cooked for hours in creamy sauces, many of them spicy. Good food, though I could hardly tolerate even the medium spice. I had just hoped she wouldn’t order anything too hot and ask me to try it. It’s never a good look when a man cannot keep up with his woman in terms of spice.
We were the only ones there. It was nice, being out, taking our minds off things. We almost never discussed Bael anymore. I think she was embarrassed by what he had done. She didn’t want to bring up the man who had nearly gotten her and her daughters killed, and I wasn’t going to force her to. Better to live in the present than to wallow in the past. Best he was forgotten. The traitor was lucky he had died from a brain hemorrhage while he had slept–truly, it was scandalous how he had felt no pain, especially after all that he had inflicted upon the Planet Trade Organization. Lord Icer would have tortured him for months before letting him die, as he allegedly had done with Glacial.
The man had been lucky till the very end. But, I got the last laugh. His woman was mine.
After the appetizers, I brought out the wine, and we had a few glasses. Marella drank three, so I guess that means she liked it. I had the space duck in mild green sauce, if you were wondering. Not bad for the price. We dined and talked and tried each other’s food, and I didn’t sweat too much when I had some of her bhourven (a type of domesticated space hen native to Atjoh, but now found on many worlds) in medium red sauce.
We finished the sweet wine, so I brought out another–a drier red that was my father’s specialty. She didn’t fancy it as much as the other, but drank it all the same, for wine was wine. We ordered a dessert and finished the bottle. I was feeling drunk now. The drinks from earlier coupled with what we had had for dinner was enough to make me reckless and sleepy. I nearly asked her about Jaguan, but managed to stop myself at the last moment. Had I brought another bottle with me, perhaps I would not have been able to.
I am not sure if she thought of these dinners as dates, but either way, I hoped that she understood my quality. Imbe had to be putting in a good word for me as well. They had to know that I had not been involved, whatsoever, in Bael’s mad attempt to resurrect the Faerin Empire, nor in his untimely death shortly afterwards. They couldn’t blame me. I was good to them. I had spared them. I had granted them room and board in this hotel, against the council’s wishes, and I had given them a monthly stipend of ₩72,000, which was no small amount. They lived as comfortably as anyone in these times. They had to love me. The drunker I got, the more I believed my rambling thoughts.
And yet, sometimes I got the feeling that was not the case. Now and then, Imbe would give me looks, especially when she thought I was dozing, drunk, or couldn’t see her. She would glare at me. I felt a sense of dislike emanating from her. But that couldn’t be right. I was just being paranoid. I have treated her and her family well. Maybe she didn’t want this life, but that was a small price to pay to enter the realm of politics. One day, perhaps, she could have my seat on the Great Council of Faeri, when I retire from all this. I was not convinced that she appreciated what that meant.
Just as we were finishing off our last glasses of wine, I received Maquin’s reply. I did not pick up my scouter there, for I didn’t want Marella to question me. As drunk as I was, I was not sure I would be able to lie to her convincingly. Likely, Jaguan was nobody I should worry about. He had been dressed up nicely. Maybe he worked at the clothes shop. Maybe Marella had forgotten to pay for something, or maybe even underpaid for it. These wild thoughts filled my head.
Taking a deep breath, I finished my glass and focused on the present. I had to remain calm. I wasn’t governor of Faeri for no reason. I was a man of a certain quality. I would not let my curiosity eat at me. I controlled my emotions; they did not control me. I paid for the meal and we stumbled out. Marella clung to me, complaining of the cold. I hardly felt it.
It was night when we returned to the hotel. Nights on Vyrelian were about four hours longer than on Faeri, so it wasn’t imperative that we went to bed right then and there. I helped her to her room. She pecked me on the cheek, muttered something in a slur that I couldn’t make out, and hobbled inside drunkenly, suppressing a yawn as she waved me goodnight. Atoka had come to the door. I waved to the girl; she stared at me blankly before returning her attention back to her mother. The door shut hard.
I won’t lie. I was disappointed. We should have gone back to my place. I guess I needed to be more patient around this woman than I had thought. I sighed, walking home, my lips tingling. It was getting cold. I would have to turn on the heater. I placed my scouter on and read Maquin’s message.
It was a brief report, containing a front-shot of the man: Jaguan. Male. Age: 28. Originally from the city of Dunon. He was granted refugee settlement on Vyrelian, in the town of Thindarhal. Moved to Subain one week ago to work as a line-cook for the White Petals restaurant.
Closing the door behind me, before even turning on the lights, I reached for the bottle of Nyarin gin stored in the cupboard above my chill box. The first shot went down smoothly, and the second was not much more difficult. I tried to remember the last time I had gone to White Petals, but I couldn’t, for the life of me, think of what dish I had ordered there. Marella had gone with me. I hadn’t seen Jaguan. It had been more than a week ago, I thought, but I didn’t know for certain.
My curiosity had not been in any way quelled. Why had she met with a line-cook? Had she left something at the restaurant? I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind, so I drank another shot, and poured myself a refill. There was a good chance their conversation had been innocent. It was the alcohol making me mistrustful. I needed to cool down. Maquin would give me a more thorough update after he was done with his Nil running shift for the Order. Until then, I would sleep.
I drank and poured a refill and drank and poured another refill. After a certain point, I had forgotten how much I had had (the bottle was much emptier, at least), and the doubts I had about Marella began to dull. It felt good in the moment, but when I woke up in the morning with a blinding headache, I couldn’t help but curse myself for being a romantic fool.
A week later, as I was preparing to once more call the Great Council into session, Jahu gave me the bad news. She had called me into her luxury suite. First time I’d been there. In retrospect, I should have known something was up.
“Sorry, Lychin. Can’t make it. Emperor’s orders.”
“How long will you be gone for this time?”
“Can’t say. Not sure even he knows.”
“Then we’ll carry on without you. I’ll send you recordings of the meetings. Do you still have the code for my private scouter channel?” She nodded. “If you have anything to add, send me a message.”
“Will you move against the Order of Melrin while I’m gone?”
“Anything is possible. We don’t have all the intel yet. I’ll make the decision once we know the names of their leaders. We cannot strike prematurely. They’ll get away if we do.”
“So what? If they’re off this moon, the risk of contamination is gone.”
“Either we wipe them out or leave them alone. Half-measures will not do. They will come for us in the future if we do not kill them now.”
“You’re probably right. I’d like to be back before it goes down, but if not, good luck. It’ll be fine, sir, really. The Melrins won’t know what hit ‘em. Just a shame I’ll have to miss it,” she said, smiling weakly.
“Yeah, it’s a shame.”
“Ah, Lychin, cheer up. It won’t be that big of a deal. Our elites are amongst the most powerful warriors in the empire. No one in the Melrin gang can stand against them. You’ll have the navy at your command, too. Each ship has a new commanding officer. Men and women whom I determined to be trustworthy and capable. And the fleet from Ctaedi will be returning any day now. They have new crews as well.”
“Good ones, I hope.”
“The best we had.”
“I’m not sure if that should make me feel relieved or worried.”
“They’re good, Lychin. Really, they are. Loyal, too.”
“I believe you. Well, have a good trip. Give my regards to Lord Icer.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“My scouter channel is open–business aside, if you ever want to talk, or…”
“Yep.”
And just like that, she was gone. It was only me, now, and the new council, most of whom I could trust only by proxy. Not the best feeling in the world.
Imbe and I had tea back at my place. Maquin didn’t want any. He was seated at a desk in the corner, working nonstop on compiling the names of the leaders of the Order of Melrin. He contacted dozens of people–friends, co-workers, acquaintances–and used roundabout tactics to get the names of the gang’s various captains, enforcers, and pilots. Calansi had done right by bringing this man into my service. He was very good at what he did. Maquin was not the only one working on this, for it was too large a project for any one person, but he was the lead investigator, and he never seemed to take breaks. Whenever he was done talking to a coworker, he’d call up another one of our spies, and the two would share and confirm information. It was exhausting watching him work. I don’t know how he did it.
We didn’t talk for a while. Sitting in peace, not having to stress over thoughts or interactions with colleagues, was refreshing. Imbe wasn’t glaring, either. A welcome sign, to be sure. She was quick to refill my cup as soon as I emptied it. No wine for me today. I wasn’t in the mood for a headache. Had to remain sharp in case we were to move against the Melrins. I appreciated Imbe’s methodical nature, her high awareness, her fastidiousness. The praise I had given to her mother last night about her had not been done in jest. She really was a perfect steward.
“This is how it can be, sometimes,” I said to Imbe. “Sometimes waiting, while excruciatingly dull, is critical. One appreciates the virtue of restraint in times like this.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Imbe, come here. Let us talk. Tell me what you want to do when you get older.”
She looked at me for a while, her gaze nakedly unafraid. “This place isn’t so bad. I like it here. It’s far quieter than back home. Maybe… maybe I could become governor of Vyrelian or Naelan? That wouldn’t be asking too much, would it? I’d still have to report to the governor of Faeri… er, to you, sir.”
I tried to bury my scoff in a sip of tea. “Yes, it’s possible you could become a governor eventually. But you cannot start out as one. First you must enter the political realm as a district-level politician, I think. It will take time to rise through the ranks before you can become governor of anywhere, even some backwater outpost.”
“Were I on the council, I would gain considerable prestige, not to mention experience. It would be a superb environment to learn how to govern and negotiate. I would be an honorable councilor, my lord. People would respect me. They would see me as a just and noble councilor–a councilor for the people–and they would love me. Then, whenever one of the governorships here opens up, I may be seen as one of the foremost candidates.”
She was speaking boldly. Imbe was so often reserved. To see her ambitions laid bare made me smile. She was exposing her true self to me, if only partially. “You need experience before joining the council. And I’m afraid the emperor is limiting our seats to five for now, so it will be difficult to bring you on, even as a junior member.”
“He doesn’t trust us, does he?”
“After what your father did to Avalan, I don’t think he will ever again.”
She drank her cup dry, pouring herself a new one with one hand as she blew the steam away. “Alright. I’ll do it, my lord.”
“Do what?”
“Become a district-level politician. Could I be a judge?” She flicked the hair from her eyes before taking a sip.
It wasn’t the caffeine that was making my heartbeat quicken. I swallowed and looked away. She was too young for me, but moreover it would be entirely inappropriate for a man in my position to make a move on his underling. It was practically unheard of–scandalous, even. Her mother playing hard-to-get was keeping me backed up. You must understand that I was losing patience with her. I was reaching a breaking point.
“I believe we could arrange such a thing.”
“Yeah, then, I’ll do that.”
“You will have to take some additional classes on imperial law.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Sure, whatever.”
She had to like me. She had to think I was a good man. I was generous with my hours and with how much I paid her. One day, I would tell her the true story of what had happened to her father, provided she didn’t know it already. If she did blame me for his death, then she didn’t know the true story. It would be a tough conversation, but I couldn’t have her sneaking up on me in the middle of the night and slitting my throat. I had to be sure she was on my side.
We had some more tea. This time, she chose fikiseed flavor. Good stuff. I had never tried it before. My foot was tapping the carpet when Maquin finally rose to his feet and handed over the list. He had been too cautious to leave it as a message on my scouter, in case anyone had hacked into my private channel. The sheet of paper was the only evidence, and in my hands, it was safe.
“That’s a partial list of Melrin’s leaders.”
“A partial list?” I asked, looking over the names. There were almost forty. Some were familiar to me. It was shocking, to say the least, to learn of their treachery. “How many are missing?”
“I’d say that’s about ninety to ninety-five percent of them. Can’t ever really know for sure without capturing one of the lieutenants. I’ve gone through all of my contacts, but I don’t have full intel on their base in Thindarhal, nor about their operations on Naelan. For what it’s worth, it doesn’t look like they have much of a presence on the other moon.”
“That will have to do. We’ll start by capturing one of their leaders. In the meantime, have you heard anything about their shipments? Are they trying to intentionally bring the plague to Vyrelian?”
“I don’t believe so, my lord. But I’m just a Nil runner. They don’t tell me much of anything, really.”
“Your friends must have heard something.”
“Not that I know of. The spice must flow, my lord. Their operation cannot stop just because of a plague. The gang will lose too much if it adheres to the quarantine protocols. That’s the only reason we’re in this situation.”
“They don’t care if we get infected?”
“No. Well, it wouldn’t be ideal, but they have to gain profit somehow. If the plague hits the moons, they’ll go somewhere else.”
I didn’t do well to hide my disgust. “Vermin, all of them.”
He pointed to the first five names on the list. “If you hit these ones, the gang will be mostly leaderless. It’s possible I will be able to learn who the other leaders are in the aftermath.”
“The council will discuss that course of action. I cannot guarantee we will choose to go down that road.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Continue your work, Maquin. And good job. You’ve done well so far.”
He bowed and left the room. Imbe prepared my clothes. To set an example, I wore my best suit of armor. My indigo cape, wrought with gold and ruby trimming, was a must-have. I didn’t need to ask her for it. It was in her hands when I moved to the door. Good instincts on that girl.
That day’s Great Council of Faeri was an informal thing. We met in the same chambers as before, though it was just the four of us this time–me, Baboca, Calansi, and Imbe. Temaya was too busy to attend. The spicemaster looked bored. I presented Baboca with the list. He was most likely to go along with my plan. Jahu was on my side no matter what. I can’t say I knew what Temaya would think, having met her only once, but that was on her. She should have been here if she had wanted her voice heard.
“This many work for the Order, eh?”
“They continue to bring contraband, illegal drugs, and their own homegrown Nil to Vyrelian. Their cargo is unsupervised. Without going through quarantine, we can’t be sure those ships aren’t contaminated. Every shipment risks the lives of every living being on this moon. The time to act, to protect our people, has come.”
“Ask them nicely to stop,” Calansi said with a yawn.
“We already have,” Baboca grunted. “They won’t listen.”
I rose to my feet. A rush of heat flooded my cheeks. “We have warned them more than once. The Order of Melrin has committed treason by continuing to disobey our commands. It is my opinion, as well as Admiral Jahu’s, that we must exterminate them. All of them. For the good of Faeri, and for the good of the empire.”
“Agreed,” said Baboca. He didn’t need to think about it.
“I must caution restraint, my fellow councilors. What good would it do to open hostilities with a shadow gang in this time of crisis? I fear war would benefit neither side,” Calansi countered.
I would be talking to the emperor about him later. His response reeked of greed, of flippancy.
“Jahu is with me. That’s three for and one against. It doesn’t matter what Temaya would have thought. It has been decided. We will eradicate the gang from not only Vyrelian, but the empire itself.”
“Hear hear!” roared Baboca, joining me on his feet and clapping me on the shoulders.
The spicemaster looked none too pleased. That was irrelevant. Imbe came running over to take my empty cup. Her hands were shaking. I think she had been flustered by the tension in the room. After she cleaned up, we departed. The governor and the trader remained behind, no doubt to talk about something behind my back. I didn’t care. Let them. If I wanted to, I could have either one of them executed on a whim. They were never going to plan a coup against me, not that I thought Baboca would want to, anyways.
Outside, in the hallway, my scouter beeped. Maquin had sent me a message: Confirmed: Meiquano is alive and well in Thindarhal. He has been cured of the plague.
I paused, my heart beating faster. So there was a cure. Relief mixed with rage, and I felt lightheaded. Imbe took my arm, steadying my balance. Switching channels, I contacted the captain of the assassination teams. “Hold in place for now,” I told him. “Your mission will be changing ever so slightly. You’re going to be taking a few more of them hostage.”
Chapter X: The Snow Maiden's Fury[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Kirka |
| Position: | Advisor to Yuki |
| Date of account: | October 3 - November 13, Age 767 (first scene) November 13, Age 767 (second and third scenes) December 2, Age 767 (fourth scene) |
One pocket of space pirates remained near the southern border of Lady Yuki’s empire. Per her uncle’s command, we set out for them after leaving Lipanto. Pax Arcosia would not officially commence until the scum had been dealt with. Yuki remained in her chambers on the ride over. I thought it unwise to disturb her. She had gone through enough during the emperor’s coronation. The Space Soap Opera Network tided me over until we arrived in the disputed zone.
Though she hated him, she was dutiful in how she cleared the planets. Every time before going down, she asked me for details. If it was an agricultural world or one rich in resources, she would preserve what she could and painstakingly eliminate every power signature one-by-one. If it was an otherwise derelict military outpost, she would destroy it from space.
After returning from an infestation of space-badgers on Planet Nitro 048, Yuki complained about the army’s quality. I couldn’t disagree with her assessment. “It required minimal effort to wipe them out, Kirka. How can there be no warriors in my empire who possess the necessary strength to stave off these pirates?”
“There must be some, my lady, but I fear these outposts have been poorly manned. Captain Naro, certainly, would be able to deal with them. Perhaps he could train a new batch of recruits?”
“It’s pathetic. Embarrassing. I’ve never seen such a mockery of the empire in all my life. This must change.”
“Are you thinking of creating a team of warriors like Kuriza’s Katchiguri Force?”
“No, nothing like that. Transfer our elite warriors to the border worlds. The inner worlds are rarely raided, so they do not require heavy garrisons.”
“I don’t know that we have so many elites in the empire. In any case, I’ll see what I can do.”
After the twelfth or so stop, I grew concerned over how many soldiers had been murdered by the space pirates. Our army was far more depleted than I had expected. Aside from when she called me to listen to her rants, Yuki never spoke to me. I watched my shows and she cleared the planets. Less than an hour every time. And even so, sometimes, I think she dawdled. What was she doing down there? I could never ask such a question.
“Like vermin,” she said, coming up once more. “They burn quickly.”
In a month’s time, we raced through eighteen planets. It was effortless how she dealt with the reavers. Her pace never slowed. Solemn enmity fueled her onwards. By then, we had heard of the outbreak that would come to be known as Bahkaar’s Plague. It hadn’t yet reached our region, let alone the border outposts. The empress did not suit up during the remainder of the trip, which was reckless in retrospect.
After one planet-clearing, Yuki remarked, “They must be breeding somewhere close by. Where do all these damn pirates keep coming from?”
“Deep, lawless space, no doubt.”
“Their numbers continue to grow even as their territories shrink. Most pirates flee in the face of certain doom. The smarter ones are gone before then. But these ones… they are willing to die for their planets. Strange breed, no?”
“I couldn’t hope to understand the mind of a space pirate, Lady Yuki.”
Several days later, we came upon the last of the worlds in rebellion. She seemed almost gleeful as she drank her morning tea (beninkan fruit flavor). She was ready to put an end to it. Years had passed since the entire territory of the Planet Trade Organization had been at peace. I had not believed I would live to see such a day again, particularly after Lord Nitro’s death, but here it was. Yuki was looking over a datapad I had prepared for her with information on her cousins, Haimaru and Raimie.
“Forty-one planets.”
“Are you absolutely certain?”
I nodded, trying to remember not to squint. I had always hated how artificially bright the lights on her ship were. “I am. That area of space is now known as Haimaru’s subregion.”
“Why did my grandfather have to have three children? Father had it right, Kirka. One child is enough. I can deal with Kuriza. I would much prefer not having the other two in the picture.”
Crude though that was, I happily indulged her. “Spies will be sent to infiltrate their ranks. Their army on Melirion is stretched thin, so it will not take long for one of your men to gain a clearance-level position. In the meantime, the final pirate lair is just ahead. We should focus our efforts on that before anything else.”
“He promised to train me. You heard him say that, didn’t you, Kirka?”
“I did.”
“If I am to avenge Father, I must train with my uncle. I heard he dismantled Kuriza in a matter of seconds.” We were not going to talk about her battle against the princeling. “I’m not half as strong as I need to be. You remember Father’s strength. How do I compare with him?”
“I am not the best at judging that sort of thing, my lady. As you know, I have never been a warrior.”
“But you have watched him spar?”
“A few times, yes, many, many years ago.”
“And you’ve watched me spar?”
“Of course.”
“Am I comparable to him?”
She put me in uncomfortable situations more often than was necessary. “I cannot say for certain. You may not be as strong as he was. And it’s always best to err on the side of caution in these situations. The Mrovians will have improved their capabilities, too.”
“Very well, then. There will be no trip to Typhon until I’m sure I can win. I won’t make the same mistake Father did.”
Silently, she finished off the tea, her shoulders pointed up, her face emotionless, her eyes closed. The space pirates’ were no threat. I savored the thought of Yuki’s empire entering Pax Arcosia before dinnertime. She wouldn’t stay down there too long, I expected, as from the border, it would be a two-week’s journey back to Planet Nitro 001 at full speed.
At the same time, I was anxious. Re-manning the outposts would be a tremendously difficult task. Most of them had been running on skeleton crews to begin with. The empress told me there had been no surviving natives or soldiers on any of the planets she had cleansed. In the personnel department, it had been a total loss. It would be up to me to replace them. Yuki wouldn’t have the patience for that kind of tedious work. Not to say I did, either, but I knew my place.
Prior to assaulting the final pirate lair, Yuki conducted a virtual roundtable with several of her most senior officers. I wasn’t made aware of this until ten minutes beforehand. In retrospect, her hastiness made sense. There was no time to waste. From her ship, Frostbite, we coordinated a response to the outbreak on Faeri. Bahkaar’s Plague, as it was already being called (why, I can’t tell you), was sweeping across the universe, killing anyone who caught it. We couldn’t afford to let it breach Empress Yuki’s territory.
“Put every planet under lockdown. No ships coming in or out.” Yuki paced before a screen that had split into eight blocks to account for all their faces.
“Bear in mind more than half the outposts require monthly supply drops, lest their garrisons starve,” said Senior Governor Vermelli.
“We can sterilize them,” interjected Governor Pardelle, who had a gratingly raspy voice. “Isolate those who work with the resupply vessels and make sure they wear their zero-G suits at all times. The ships will be decontaminated and tested for the plague after every run.”
“The pilots and cargo must be sterilized before every trip as well,” I added.
“If a strict protocol is maintained, not a single planet should be lost to the plague. But should any of your soldiers try to sneak off-world, execute them in front of the rest of the garrison. Leave no doubt in their minds what will happen to those who break the lockdown.”
“What of my fleet, Lady Yuki?” asked Admiral Filisund.
“Nobody is to leave their posts. Maintain your lines. If any captain disobeys, assume they have broken quarantine and destroy their ship.”
“As you command.”
Noticing the admiral’s surprised look, I cut in. “The plague has not yet reached our territory. However, Emperor Icer has ordered us to send two thousand medical personnel to his region to help contain the outbreak on Faeri.”
Nroop’s box lit up, much to my displeasure. “Already on it. I’m running tests on isolated samples. Once I figure out what Bahkaar’s Plague is, I will deploy teams of engineers to install quarantine stations around your empire.”
“Make sure there are plenty on the border with my uncle’s region.”
“As you wish.”
“There are soldiers on recon in distant regions of the empire,” said General Busia after clearing his throat. He manned Planet Nitro 209, a military training grounds. “What happens when they return t—”
“They won’t. Anyone outside my territory from this moment forth will not be allowed back in. Filisund, Vermelli, make sure this message is spread to the border colonies. Tell the other governors to shoot deserters on sight. Same goes for anyone coming from my uncle or Kuriza’s regions.”
“Isn’t that a little drastic, Yuki?” asked Nroop from his feed on Planet Nitro 001. I didn’t know why the doctor had to interject himself so often. The man had been rude to her, although unless she brought it up, I wouldn’t make mention of it. “We could provoke a war with not only your cousin, but, say, a traveling emissary of the Corvos League.”
“Give them fair warning before shooting them down.”
We endured another long silence. I hated being cooped up in the ship, and longed to be back on Nitro 001, frigid as it was, if only to be able to stretch my legs during tedious meetings. They helped her think things through, but I felt a little superfluous. Naro hadn’t said a word; the Thekar stood behind the empress, a scowl on his face, his eyes half-glazed over. At least he wasn’t being presumptuous like Nroop. The doctor had no right to dictate policy on anything in Yuki’s empire as far as I was concerned.
At last, Governor Vermelli said, “We’ve begun constructing the orbital turrets, my lady. They are being installed on seven planets, including Planet Nitro 001.”
“Have you calculated how long it will take until we have supplies for more?”
“It’s difficult to say. The plague will certainly cause delays. It may be a year or two before another two dozen could be constructed.”
“Prioritize that. And make it thirty-six in one year. Set them up around our most important worlds first: our most important military outposts, most valuable mining worlds, and the like. Protect them at all costs. Kirka will get you a list of planets.”
We bowed and swore it would be done.
“How goes the campaign against the pirates?” General Busia asked in his usual gruff tone.
“They have provided little resistance. Less than I had believed would be required to steal the planets in the first place.”
“The soldiers assigned to frontier worlds need better training, aye. I’ll prioritize that with my next batch of recruits.”
“Naro will train half of the next batch of officers, General Busia,” I said. “And we are extending their training for another six months. The elites protecting the inner worlds will be pulled to the border outposts, and we will replenish our inner colonies with the recruits. As such, you may train as many as can be found, but they must be split between you and Captain Naro.”
“A garrison of three thousand per planet would be more than enough. Do you have that many recruits on hand?” Governor Vermelli asked.
“Depends on how many worlds we’re talking about.”
“Somewhere between forty-five and fifty,” I said. “I’ll have the number shortly.”
I searched for the information on a nearby computer as they continued, feeling a faint heat creep up my ears.
“Not that many, no, but we can force certain worlds to send us more recruits with a little, heh, intimidation.”
“I don’t care how you do it, General. Just find me enough soldiers to protect these planets,” said Yuki.
“It’ll be done. What’s the average power level you’re looking for?”
“3000 or higher.”
“Whew, that’ll take some time. 3000’s approaching the ninety-fifth percentile.”
“I am aware. Make it happen. You too, Naro,” said Yuki. He grunted, fell to a knee, and nodded. “Many of the pirates I’ve vaporized haven’t been half that strong. Now, Busia, get to work. We’re behind schedule as it is.”
“Aye, we’ll be in touch, Lady Yuki.”
He vanished from the screen, leaving behind a black rectangle. It was forty-seven planets, by the way, but I didn’t feel like chiming in.
“Advisor Tetrene, you will find new governors and officers to run the worlds that were taken over by the pirates.”
“Does that mean there were no survivors?” asked the furry man.
“That is correct.”
“Alright then. We may not have enough candidates, but I’ll try.”
“Fill as many of the positions as you can. Come to me with any questions you may have.”
“I will, Lady Yuki.”
“Well then, are we finished here? Are there any other concerns?”
“Nroop, how close are you to being able to detect the plague in these quarantine stations?” asked Governor Fischips (the governor of his homeworld, Planet Nitro 009).
The Geomogeo beamed. “Finished the scanners some ten days ago. Wasn’t too difficult, either. I’m positive they’ll have a 99.99% successful detection rate. The prototype was sent to a manufacturing plant in Lord Icer’s region. Obviously, priority was given to Faeri, but hundreds should be showing up in our empire within the month.”
“You designed that in a few weeks?”
“What can I say? I’m good at what I do.”
He was smirking, so I looked away, trying to blink that nauseating sight out of my mind. I couldn’t stand the man. Tapping her on the leg, I muttered, “We should really be going soon… If the pirates have scouters…”
She brushed my hand away. “Quiet, Kirka.”
“We’ll be shipping them out to every outpost over the coming weeks. It may take a while to run through the whole empire. I have eight assistants who can install the things, so we’ll split up nine ways. It should only take a couple of weeks. Don’t worry, we’ll take the proper quarantine precautions—hell, they’re my suggestions.”
His smugness was making my head itch. I gave her another long look, and when her eyes locked with mine, I felt her give in.
“As always, excellent work, doctor. We’ll be in touch with your team.”
Off blinked the rectangles that had housed Governors Pardelle and Vermelli and Fischips. Tetrene made his exit too. I had a sneaking suspicion that that man was scared of Yuki. He wasn’t going to rise any further in the ranks if he remained so standoffish and conceited. He didn’t see it, either, which was a shame. At the same time, that meant he had ended up precisely where he deserved to be.
Filisund hung around a little longer. “Make sure there are no breaches. I am putting tremendous confidence in you, Admiral. If there is to be an outbreak in my territory, it will most likely come from one of the border worlds. They are yours to guard.”
“It is a vast territory, my lady, but I will try.”
“You are the last line of defense, Admiral. Do us proud.”
“I will not fail you, empress.” His light flickered off.
“So, when are you getting home?” Nroop asked. Disrespect oozed from his pores. Even I was not that casual around her. “Should I put a kettle of tea on?”
“Get back to work,” she said in a low tone. Not waiting for his answer, I killed the video feed. Yuki slumped over the console, shaking her head. “Well, this is just great, isn’t it? I’m about to quell the final uprising in my empire, and now there’s a plague to worry about. Can’t I have one moment of peace?”
“It will not breach our territory.”
“Are you sure, Kirka? Or are you just trying to ease my mind?”
I cracked a thin smile. It was rare that she got to me, but in this instance, I could not contain myself. “Maybe a little of both.”
“I won’t take further risks with the pirates, either. Put on your space suits and join me. We’re leaving Frostbite here.”
“Only the three of us?” Naro asked.
“Don’t think you can handle it, captain?”
I exchanged a look with the Thekar. He seemed rather nonplussed by the situation. Since I wasn’t a warrior, and negotiating with pirates wasn’t a likely proposition, I couldn’t imagine what my role could possibly be in the upcoming battle. Naro, being an elite warrior, a veteran of dozens of campaigns, made more sense as her companion.
It had been many years (before old Lord Nitro’s death, even) since we had not been plagued by pirates on one outpost or another. Today, Pax Arcosia would begin. Almost brought a tear to my eye, I’ll confess, seeing what a ruler Lady Yuki had already become. She had her father’s cunning and her uncle’s strength, and soon, I believed, Icer would need to start worrying about her. It does not take much to melt gold.
Taking us by the arms, the ship’s window retracted, Yuki darted into space with blistering speed. Seconds later, we reached Planet Nitro 350’s upper atmosphere. The northernmost imperial outpost, situated on a mountaintop overlooking a snow-clad forest, had been burned and pock-marked by craters. Several buildings were so damaged as to have been rendered uninhabitable, while others had collapsed down the mountainside.
My scouter picked up around two hundred unique power signatures. It was impossible to get a proper count, although none were stronger than Naro, so I was not concerned. Our readings became more precise as we approached the targets, and as we came down over the station, we realized the pirates had spread across the planet.
With dismay, I scanned and found that seven of the planet’s outposts were occupied by the reavers. There were no survivors on our side. 350 had maintained a population of over 12,000. Most of them had been warriors. Yuki’s empire was being stretched thinner every day. There were so few to replace those we had lost. It would be a decade or more until this outpost held a robust garrison once more.
The largest congregation of pirates was in the outpost below us. “Naro, take them out. I’ll clear the other outposts. If you need help, you know how to find me.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem, my lady.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” she smiled. “Kirka, go with him. He could use some backup.”
“Me? Begging your pardon, but I’m no fighter.”
She gave me a stern look before saying, “I’ll meet up with you shortly. Move fast.”
An ultramarine aura snaked up her body like a burning cloak, and she flew off, disappearing beyond the next mountain range before I had time to exhale.
“Watch your back down there. Can’t promise to protect you.”
If this trip was meant to humiliate me, I wouldn’t fall for the bait. “Please, don’t worry about me. I won’t get in your way. Lead on, captain.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. The Thekar tore through the ceiling of the main compound, his orange aura shining around him as if he, himself, were an energy blast. Though I followed him, I made sure to keep some distance between us. He didn’t stop to greet the pirates, to introduce himself, to say why we had come. Our armor told them all they needed to know.
Descending through the smoking hole, I saw Naro already sprung upon them. He tore a man in half as I touched down. Howling with passion, he ran down a straggler from another group, preferring to use his hands and teeth as opposed to energy (not that he was incapable). I wondered how long it would take the empress to return. Would she expect me to tally up any kills?
There had been about sixty of them lounging in the mess hall, smoking Nil, drinking, and playing card games. The place had become overrun with garbage and rotting food, and the stench of it greatly preceded it. They were an infestation not unlike space-badgers in that they had torn through everything, ruined everything, and then made a kingdom of the mess. They hadn’t seemed keen on leaving anytime soon, either. Their gluttonous squalor was foul to look upon and fouler to smell.
I kept my guard up and my scouter in scanning mode. Most of the pirates had power levels between four and eight thousand—stronger than me, but nothing Naro couldn’t handle. I didn’t want to be put in a situation that needed handling, so I kept to the shadows. He was working through them fine enough as it was. I don’t think they noticed me. I dared to twist my head and scan the farther-off power levels. Their numbers were fewer than before, and as I continued to look, readings continued dropping off. Her swiftness was staggering. Naro was a proper warrior, a man of uncommon quality, and yet he couldn’t make Yuki break a sweat on his best day. It was truly incredible how much her family outclassed the rest of the universe. No wonder they were running things.
Naro made short work of the drunken aliens. A few tried to flee, but he shot them down, their ash mingling with the falling snow. When a shirtless space-badger came running my way on all fours, I zapped him with a ki blast and shot a finger beam through his chest. Yuki would be so proud of me. My aim wasn’t half bad, even after all these years. The air in the hall was rancid, and soon, it was reeking of burning flesh. Before I knew it, the captain and I were alone again.
“There’s another power level in the next room. Follow me and stay close.”
I scanned the planet once more and read fewer than a dozen power levels remaining. The pirates were nearly vanquished. Relief prematurely welled up in my throat. I almost gave in; at the last second, I caught myself and suppressed all emotion. I would not debase myself until my scouter gave me the good news. The outpost was a total loss. Everything needed to be replaced. Best thing would be for us to vaporize the ruins. It would be years before new settlements could be built. In the meantime, Planet Nitro 350 would have to downsize. The other installations weren’t as damaged as this one, I hoped.
He kicked down the door and went for the gold-wearing Jolean inside. The room was a haze of smoke, smelling sweet. The pirate, a burning stick of Nil grasped between his fingers, sidestepped the captain’s fist, leaning back, and kicked him upside the chin. Dazed, Naro muttered something and charged him down. The reaver dodged about, parrying with his legs, not taking the fight seriously, and inhaled deeply from his stick.
I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have tried to read his power level. Inevitably, when I did, my scouter blew up. I’m still furious about it to this day. I had never made that mistake before.
Naro threw out a barrage of punches. The pirate parried, giving up ground. He pressed his advantage, forcing the Jolean back. The scum didn’t seem too bothered to oblige. His jewelry jingled and flashed, but he wasn’t so much as breathing hard. Even with the room lighting up with ki and plasma (most of it burning orange), he could not land a hit. The glittering man pushed him away, and a black aura flared up around him. My comrade’s scouter exploded in a fiery mess.
A palmed kiai knocked him into a wall. I was growing concerned—not just because the Thekar was my only shield in this fight, but because of this pirate’s strength. It did not bode well for our repopulation efforts if there were others as strong as this one living beyond imperial borders. The captain struggled to his feet and ran at his foe again, this time forming orangish energy around his fist.
No matter what he tried, the Jolean was too fast. He was toying with us now. I didn’t appreciate that. If he was going to kill us, best get it over with. Have some class. That’s not to say I wasn’t scared of dying, but that fear had long ago dulled. Managing the empire was a stressful, thankless burden. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be free of stress and obligation. They say dying via energy vaporization is a painless way to go. I won’t pretend I wasn’t rooting for him for a second or two.
The pirate flew around the room, not bothering to parry anymore. Dodging was enough. His Nil stick was running dry. “This is the best the Planet Trade Organization has to offer? With effort like that, I’m sorry to say you won’t be taking this planet from me. Shame. You came so close only to fail.”
“Who are you?” I asked. “Where did you come from?”
He grinned a golden-toothed grin and discarded the stick before landing. “Surely you jest. You haven’t heard of Medler, the wealthiest pirate in the universe? A man who’s never been caught, backstabbed, or beaten in battle? I’m shocked, absolutely embarrassed. I thought I was something of a celebrity to you Planet Trade bastards.”
I swore under my breath, cursing myself for not remembering his face. “Naro, he’s a notoriously wanted criminal! Watch your back!”
“Yeah, I am, and yeah, you should. Now, come on then, I don’t have all night: who wants to die first?”
The air exploded as Yuki landed. Falling snow sizzled and vaporized around her body. “That will be you, pirate.”
“There you are. Yeah, good,” he said, his voice rising higher. Finding a fresh Nil stick in his pocket, he lit it with a ki blast and inhaled a quick puff. “I’ve been wondering when you would make an appearance, Yuki.”
“You must have a death wish. Very well, I’ll humor you.”
Pinkish energy was forming around her knuckle. He held up a hand as he sucked on the stick. “Please, wait. You’ve taken out all of my other colonies.” Medler licked his lips. “I knew you were coming for me, so I waited.”
“Why didn’t you run?”
“Ah, because then I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. My my, the descriptions don’t do justice t—”
“Don’t try to flatter me. Explain yourself, or I’ll end this.”
He raised his hands apologetically. “I don’t want this to end in hostility, but you must understand why I had to fight your soldier. He killed many of my crew.”
“As did I. Ready to fight?”
“On the contrary, I would like to form an alliance with you. Before I go into specifics, I’ll be taking his life,” Medler said, pointing to Naro, who was panting on one knee between Lady Yuki and himself, “for the lives of my crew.”
“That’s not happening.”
His face wrinkled in surprise. “No? Either he dies, or the negotiation’s off.”
“This was never a negotiation, pirate.” She stepped up to face him, murmuring for Naro to retreat. “Mine will be the last face you ever see.”
“Sensing your power level, I seriously doubt that.”
A shining black aura coated him like tar, and he began to grunt. And oh did he sweat and oh did he moan. Sometimes I don’t understand warriors and their tendencies. Was all of that really necessary? Had to be some showmanship in there.
In the filthy mess hall, the Arcosian discarded her smoking scouter. That made me jump. It was nearing midday. I predicted that Medler wouldn’t live to see it. Naro thought he may last a few minutes longer. Smirking, Yuki powered up, her ultramarine aura rising like steam around her body. She neither grunted nor sweat as much as he did, which I found to be most gratifying. She was an empress (unlike that barbarian) in temperance, manners, and power. Even if he was Jolean, he didn’t know what he was up against. I held back a laugh, biting my knuckle, for I couldn’t give away the surprise.
With a tail slap feint, she lunged at her foe from the right, pressing him with quicker strikes than Naro had. He quickly found he couldn’t dance around the room like a court jester anymore. He really had to try. Though he parried her blows, she was overcoming him slowly, and her stamina appeared to be overwhelming.
“Bloody strange pirate,” Naro said. “Never seen one so strong.”
“There’s been a bounty on his head for decades. Nobody has been able to take him out. I suppose we should not be surprised. Even so, I doubt she’ll have trouble with him.”
“Shouldn’t have any.” Naro seemed a little embarrassed. I didn’t feel the need to offer him sympathy. He should’ve been stronger than the pirate. Maybe this would light a fire in his belly. “Think we’ll get to see her fight at full power? Or something close to that, at least?”
“I highly doubt it, captain. Quelling the Jolean should not take much more effort on her part.”
In her Arcosian Fourth Form, Yuki could access the vast majority of her strength. She had been taught in the ways of fighting since she had been a little girl. She needed no further instructions on how to raise or lower her power level. If she required 100%, she could dip into her energy wells instantly. Not that that would be required, of course.
I had heard a rumor of Yuki unlocking a fifth form not unlike Cooler’s. While I had considered it nothing more than wishful thinking, nobody but her knew for sure. The royal family were private with their affairs, and close as I was to her, I wasn’t about to abuse my post. Only a few weeks ago, during the meeting to declare Pax Arcosia, Icer had kicked all of us out to talk to his grandniece and grandnephew alone. She never told me what he had said, nor had there been any expectation on my part to receive further information. Her father had been the same way. There was a line I would and could never cross.
She trained in private. If she had any sparring partners, I was unaware. She would never fully power up in front of them. No, she had probably only transformed a few times at most. Some small part of me wished to see her transform, if she could, but for her to be pushed to that would mean we were in great peril. Better to kill him off and get it over with.
Almost as if she had heard my counsel, the Arcosian leapt upon her foe, reigning blows down upon him. He couldn’t handle her tail slaps. He released a barrage of energy from his fingertips (wildly inaccurate in his desperation). She teleported through them and slapped him aside. With quick foot work and a lunging superman punch, Yuki prevented the pirate from putting space between them. This was nothing like the rabble he could find in the lawless corners of space. Her pressure was relentless as it was imperious.
Headbutting him away, she threw a handful of bluish ki balls at him, which exploded upon impact, melting a wall in the process. Medler popped to his feet, scowling, and wiped the blood from his lip.
“Impressive, Yuki. You’re strong—stronger than I was led to believe. This is going to be more fun than I expected.”
“Thank you ever so much, pirate. But I’m afraid it’s over. Come to me,” she said, waving him to her as if he were a wine-refilling servant, “so we may be rid of you.”
“You’re powerful, but not unbeatable. If you wish for this to end in a duel to the death, then fair play. Say your goodbyes. Don’t think you’ll have another chance to speak to your lackeys.”
It must have taken considerable restraint not to reply; I admired her reticence. Medler gulped down what I presumed to be Uu’goc from a furry pouch and dropped into a casual fighting stance. Gladly did she air dash over to him. With another slap of the tail, she broke his guard and resumed her pummeling, this time leading with aerial downward foot strikes as she shot him with finger beams. Even I could recognize the precision in her movements, the gliding, smooth nature of her form. Her pursuit of perfection was clear. Were Lord Nitro here to witness this, he would be proud of his daughter.
A fiery explosive wave of energy sprung forth from his body, vaporizing everything in sight. As Yuki dove aside, he shot at her with a flying kick. Well, she didn’t see that coming. Moments later, the two crashed to the ground. The pirate pulled her from the rubble, squeezing her by the neck, and zapped her with several eye beams before throwing her aside. She was out of it—completely dazed. Nevertheless, she rose to her feet, blood glistening on her lips, her shoulders drooping. Then he pounced, knocking her in the face innumerous times. She tried to break free, but he pinned her down. Naro wondered if we should step in. I was not yet worried.
Yuki kneed him in the side, and he fell away. Her tail coiled around his neck, and now it was her turn to pin him, belly-down. Holding the man by his white-blond hair, she knocked his face into the ground repeatedly. But again he released an explosive wave, and again my lady was taken unaware by her foe. The force of the blast propelled her into a table. His jewelry jingled as he drank. A wad of blood shot from one nostril. Medler wiped his mouth and bade the empress to come at him.
She obliged, though her fist went right through him—it was an afterimage. The air exploded, and he reappeared behind her, kicking her in the side before punching her away. The pirate’s movements were faster than I could see. A swirling black aura had enveloped him. I’ll admit, at that moment, my confidence began to wane. He kneed her in the ribs before landing a sidearm slap and an uppercut. When she went down, she did not jump back to her feet like before. She stayed down. He had damaged her.
Color was coming to his face. “Time to leave my planet, bitch.”
She reached for his ankle. He stomped on her wrist and hopped over her second attempt, completely missing the tail beam she had fired. Medler flew into the far wall. This one too, Yuki bathed in blue energy. She was growing impatient—I could see it in the way she arched her back. Even so, the fear of overextension must have been on her mind.
“No mercy! End him!” I shouted.
“Shut your mouth, Kirka! Don’t distract me.”
I’ll admit, I blushed. Not often I get called out like that, and especially not in front of other people. The pirate would soon be dead, but still, a memory is a memory. Naro didn’t say anything. Good man. Wise hire.
Medler fired a snaking green energy beam at Yuki, which she blocked, but in so doing, allowed another portion of the mess hall to be vaporized. Sunlight shone in. It was a crisp day. I’m sure she hardly noticed. The pirate charged at her again, leading with a series of afterimages. She was well-trained in that technique, and not likely to be fooled twice, so it was only when he got her again with an explosive wave that her block faltered.
Her defense was woefully inept. I would make mention of it only after we returned to the capital. Any sooner and she might have killed me. Medler punched her away, following with a series of strikes that came too fast for me to see. All that was visible was the air sparking orange around the blur that was his arm. Energy bubbles that had formed around her body exploded, flinging her violently into the ground. She tumbled out of the billowing smoke, bloody and bruised. It was not time to worry Naro. I was not convinced by her performance. She was holding back.
He treated her like a toy, tossing her around the room (we were forced to get out of their way once or twice), using his speed to keep on her. She fired a slew of finger beams. He batted them aside. However, that gave Yuki enough time to gain some distance and catch her breath. She looked positively winded.
“You’re not bad for a space pirate. Who trained you?”
Stalling for time was an unexpected move. Perhaps I have overrated her stamina. Even though I was not a fighter, and I had never seen him fight at full power, I knew Lord Nitro was stronger than his daughter. No space pirate would make him sweat like this. Absolutely absurd.
“Most recently?” Medler’s face darkened with excitement. He went to the pouch again. “Kelipho and I have been sparring some. She’s a brutal partner. Quick. Merciless. Hard-hitting. Keeps me on my toes. You better watch out for her.”
“Is she your whore? Don’t make me laugh.” The empress’ tail slapped the ground.
“Nah, nah, nah, she’s my dear friend.”
“Am I supposed to know her?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” he shrugged. “But you’re dead anyway, so what does it matter?”
Yuki bristled up. The air pulsed with heat, the faint outline of her aura spreading around her body. “I’m not using half my power.”
He chuckled. “A shameless lie. Well, if you insist, we can continue this game, but it can’t go on for much longer. The Uu’goc’s getting me hungry.”
“Agreed.”
She didn’t give him time to respond. Her fist crashed against his jaw, spinning him around. She punched the back of his head, causing him to fly straight into a chair. Teleporting to his feet, the Jolean struck at her, hitting Yuki hard in the chest. His second fist grazed her chin, not doing enough damage. Her back fist stunned him; her knee to the chest made him spit blood.
He fired off another energy beam. Dodging it, she allowed the outpost to absorb all that damage before retaliating with an afterimage strike, hitting him hard with her shoulder. As she stepped up to him, the man rolled to the side, blasting her with gushing viridian ki blasts. She blocked most with one hand. That she didn’t bother blocking all of them said much about Medler’s power in comparison to hers. With her right hand raised, she conjured up a ball of light pink ki. I had seen this attack before. Many times, in fact. His assault intensified, but it mattered little. The energy left her fingertip, and he went up in a flash of light.
I would have sworn he had been vaporized when the light faded. Yet, Medler was alive. He lay broken and bleeding amongst charred refuse and rubble, his kingdom laid bare, and he knew it was over. He didn’t try to run. In his state, I could probably catch him.
Standing up, Medler found himself beset by a pissed-off Arcosian empress. Not a great spot to be in. She kicked him back. He parried, so she punched him. The reaver grabbed her shoulder, exploding a ki blast against it. Without flinching, she pushed him back with a series of quick strikes to the chest. He was unable to block anything. The one time he managed to raise his fists fast enough, she broke through them.
His attacks came sluggishly and without coherent pressure. He was wildly swinging without much power, stamina, or care. She had won. One more slap of her tail put him on the ground where he belonged. Wisely, he did not try to get up. A slender beam of purple energy was forming over her hand.
“Impressive, Yuki. Didn’t expect that. Tell me, are Kuriza and Icer as strong as you? And what about Cooler’s twins?”
“What? What does that have to do with anything.”
“Deflecting… What a shame. I’ll take that as a no. You must be the strongest warrior in the Planet Trade.”
“Shut your mouth, pirate.”
“Here,” he said in a resigned tone, tossing her a vial of liquid.
Yuki popped him in the shoulder for that, though she caught the vial nonetheless. “What is this?”
“Damn you, that hurt. Ack! It went right through me.”
“Stop your whining. You won’t suffer for much longer. But first, tell me what this is.” She held up the vial. I gulped. These pirates were treacherous, deceitful maggots. Why was she playing his game? She should have killed him and be done with it as far as I was concerned, and whatever was in that vial could be lost to time.
“That right there’s the good stuff.”
“The good stuff?”
“Fit for an emperor, yeah… and maybe a prince, or two.”
Had she not threatened me minutes prior, I would have shouted for her to stay this madness and be done with him, but I knew my place.
“For what reason do you believe I would harm my kin?”
“Let’s not pretend we forgot what came before Pax Arcosia. Have things really healed between you three? Do you really forgive them?”
“Is this Yhun?”
“I already told you. That’s the good stuff. Think about it, Yuki. You’ll be better off.” He pressed two fingers to his head and vanished.
“Damn him! He knows how to use Instant Transmission.”
I cleared my throat. “He could be anywhere in the universe now, my lady. We should return to Frostbite.”
“He’s not gonna hide out anywhere around here,” Naro concurred. “No way. She beat him up too bad.”
Yuki exhaled and powered down. “Kirka, order the surrounding outposts to go on high alert. Warn them of Medler’s power. If he returns, I’ll vaporize him. The bastard’s too smart for that, though, I think. He’s no ordinary pirate.”
“I will remain in contact with the governors,” I said with a bow.
Rubbing her wrist, she said, “Let’s go home, you two. Oh, and Kirka, have a rejuvenation tank prepared for me.”
I bowed low. No need to question her about that vial—not in front of Naro. Today had been a good day. Yuki had shown the entire universe that no pirate or thief could impede upon her imperial territory. If even the mighty Medler had been forced to flee from her wrath, what hope did any lesser scum have? Space pirates across the universe would hear of this, even if Medler never spoke a word of it. They would think twice before returning to our territory, and for good reason.
Another grey day dawned on Planet Nitro 001. The palace halls were bereft of activity and noise. Per Yuki’s orders, the base was under lockdown. The soldiers were restricted to their barracks until the plague was contained. Some select few, such as myself, were not required to adhere to the strictest of protocols. On days like today, I somewhat wished I hadn’t been so lucky. I wasn’t looking forward to having to give her the bad news.
She was sitting under an algori tree (a species native to Arcose) in the royal ice garden, watching the orbital defense turrets being assembled high in the atmosphere. Aquelia were chirping; the river was running vigorously through the garden. Idyllic wasn’t the word, for, in the early throes of summer, the snow was melting, and much of the garden had turned to grey-brown sludge, but there was something pleasing about the crisp ruggedness of it all, especially without the servants and guards lurking about in some dusty corner or another. I could never truly relax with them around.
“I can’t see how they’ll be done in two days,” she said when I sat beside her. “It doesn’t look nearly close to finished, does it?”
“If they go past schedule, execute them. Strike fear in their peers and eliminate dissent.”
“With a deadly plague spreading across the empire, I must be more restrained. Engineers are not so easily replaced.”
We didn’t talk for a while. These cold, dry, semi-cloudy days always made my nose sting. Sometimes, on brutally bitter days, my nose would start to bleed. I never got used to that as long as I’ve lived here. I swallowed, knowing that the longer I waited, the worse it would be. It was just such a difficult thing to come out and say. I guess at the time, I believed it reflected poorly on my management. I had no right to believe she would blame me, but I did.
“How did that asshole know Instant Transmission?”
“Medler has been to every corner of the universe. He has terrorized every region of the empire. I am not surprised he found a wayward Yardrat at some point or another and forced the man to teach him the technique.”
“If he remains hostile, securing the border worlds may become an issue.”
“The repopulation teams will keep a lookout for him.”
“And do what? Die at his feet? He’s an exceptional warrior, Kirka.”
“What ambitions could he possibly have without a crew? If he shows up again, I have no doubt you will destroy him.”
“He’s a Jolean, so he’ll know I’m coming. He could teleport from planet to planet, ravaging all of them, and I wouldn’t ever catch up to him.”
There was nothing to say. She was correct.
“During the fight,” I said, changing the subject, “Medler landed several hard blows. Does his strength rival yours, my lady?”
“Why, were you frightened? Did you think we were going to die?”
“Well, I-I don’t…”
“Have a little faith, Kirka. That fight was an opportunity to test myself—my durability and stamina—for, you see, tomorrow, I’m off to Planet Icer 002 to begin training with my uncle. It has been too long since I’ve endured a proper beat down. Not since Father died. The sparring team never goes all-out. Not that they could make me bleed, regardless. Medler tried, but I’ll not pretend I was pushed to my limit.”
“In a time like this, do you think it wise to journey to another world? You could very well catch the plague.”
“You worry too much. It’ll be all right. I’m traveling alone. My uncle keeps a tight ship on his resort world. When I return, we’ll set our sights on the Mrovians. I do not know how long it will take me to gain the strength to challenge them, but I want you to leave the entire force on standby. I will take everyone with me to Typhon when we are ready.”
“Of course, as you command.” It was somewhat hard to remain focused on what she was saying. When a breeze blew through the garden, I became keenly aware of the cold, and kept my teeth from clattering. “My lady… you aren’t planning on using that poison Medler gave you on Icer, are you?”
“Oh Kirka, please. How could you think such a thing of me?” With a sly look, she retrieved the vial from beneath her armor. “What do you think it is?”
“Nothing good. I could have Nroop run tests on it.”
She tossed me the vial. I didn’t want to whine any further, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I feared the vial itself could be coated in the poison, and just by touching it, we were dooming ourselves. I suppose if that were the case, I wouldn’t have written this, so there is that.
“Have that done before I leave.”
“Lady Yuki?”
“Yes?”
“Are you taking it with you to your uncle’s outpost?”
She shrugged. “Never know when it’ll come in useful.”
“But you’re not going to… to…”
She smiled, knowingly. “I told you, Kirka—you worry too much. My fury has cooled.”
It was not my place to press her. There was still the other matter —the whole reason I had come to see her. This news would put a damper on her plans. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to tell her now. It was agony working up to that moment. At least Naro wasn’t there to see me sweat and squirm. His banter would have been unbearable.
“Sorry,” I said, clearing my throat, “there is one more thing.”
“Yes, Kirka?”
“There is news you must hear,” I said unwillingly.
“Yes, go on.”
“I received a report today from Governor Harchey of Planet Nitro 213. He confirmed an outbreak of the plague on the installation.”
“Send Admiral Filisund to vaporize the planet.”
“We are giving it up just like that?”
She stood. As I had expected, her mood had fallen. “They must know the price of failing to follow the containment protocols. Come Kirka, let us begin preparations for my journey.”
“You’re still leaving? Even after that report?”
“It changes nothing. Halt all inbound and outbound resupply vessels. Nroop’s team will personally inspect every last one before they leave. We’ll find the breach.”
“That will slow down the resupply efforts considerably.”
“The outposts will have to make do. Alert them that rationing may be required. Now come, I want to learn what’s in that vial.”
It began snowing on our walk back. Summer snows here were pallid and wet and not likely to last an hour. I couldn’t help but think there was something she was keeping from me. But how could I protest? Not for one moment did I believe she had forgiven her uncle. She had been utterly humiliated by him in front of dozens of officers and governors.
Sparring with the Golden Emperor would greatly benefit her. Of that, there was no doubt. I couldn’t offer up much in the way of dissuading rhetoric. Kuriza would be training with him too. She couldn’t risk falling behind her cousin. It was by their strength that the royal family held their empires together.
We had never talked about it before—taking over the empire—but Yuki needed to remain in peak physical condition lest her kin turn on her again. I feared she would take this poison with her. If it turned out to be nothing—space vodka, or the like—I wondered if she would ask Nroop for a fresh vial of something lethal.
At this stage, it was clear to me that Yuki did not love her grand uncle and was only using the opportunity to spar with him to become the strongest Arcosian. It was a risky idea, and not one that I supported. Not that I could stop her. This familial drama would come to a head some day. I just hoped it wasn’t in the coming months. She wasn’t nearly ready in her current state.
Chapter XI: The Color of Royalty[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Lingon |
| Position: | Bodyguard of Kuriza |
| Date of account: | October 30, Age 767 (first scene) November 1 - 18, Age 767 (second scene) December 7, Age 767 - January 13, Age 768 (third scene) January 16, Age 768 (fourth scene) March 3, Age 768 (fifth scene) |
We traveled to Planet Icer 002 some weeks after Pax Arcosia had been declared, just me and the boy, to commence his training. The Katchiguri Force had been left in charge of the empire in his absence. No date of return had been given, for there was no telling how long this would take. Aranya and the others were capable of handling things, even with a plague tearing through the empire. All the same, I held reservations about the timing of our little trip. Would have been discourteous to share my concerns, to sway Kuriza into urgency or regret, so I kept my mouth shut.
With the lowering of the pod door, a furnace blast of wind greeted me. Then came the humidity and the higher gravity, and it was becoming difficult to breathe. By the time I rose to my feet, I was already drenched in sweat. The island of Iharo was before us, the only inhabited outpost on the planet (in these times of Bahkaar’s Plague). Beyond the sand-sprayed pod landing area was a paved road snaking inland overshadowed by a stone wall laid long and low, shielding against rogue waves. Peeking over a distant jet-black dune, the grooved metallic roof and the upper branches of some vibrant, flowering trees (clearly imported) were caught in the sun’s glare. How I hoped that we were not about to take another arduous saunter through that muggy hellhole of a garden with Icer.
A Faerin was coming down the road, and as she drew near, I recognized her: Admiral Jahu, Fleet Commander of Faeri, a member of their Great Council, and one of the highest-ranking officers in the empire.
Kuriza sighed, brushing sand from his ankle with his tail. “Astonishing. This world’s calescence has inexorably benumbed me. Lingon, it is not yet noon, and already the temperature has grown altogether intolerable. Mad that anyone would live here.”
“This may be part of your training, my lord. If the emperor can take it, you too must learn to endure it.”
“Yes, yes. Right you are. I mustn’t whine.” Wiping his brow and taking a more emphatic tone, he whispered (for there was a soldier in earshot), “I will not be undone by the weather. Father taught me better.”
“Admiral Jahu,” I said, stepping up to her with a bow. “It’s good to see you. How are things?”
She wore a cracked and chipped grey-and-black shoulderless suit of armor with thigh pads. Barely acknowledged me with a nod. All her attention was on the prince. “My lord, how are you today?”
Fidgeting with his fingers, Kuriza gathered himself. “Well met, admiral. Have you seen my uncle?”
“He’s down by the shore, washing off. We’ve only just finished a sparring session before you arrived.”
“You and he were sparring?”
“Does that surprise you, Lingon?”
“Must be unbelievably intense. Can you really keep up with him?”
“The emperor uses merely a fraction of his power when we go at it. His fighting patterns, even slow and unmasked, have been instructive. So yes, I am considerably stronger now than I was a year ago. Credit my work ethic.” She winked at me. “Anyway, enough about me. He’s expecting you, sir. It would be unwise to keep him waiting.”
With a most unenthused scowl, Kuriza darted off in a puff of dust.
We found an area of shade under an outcrop of wide-leafed trees to watch them go at it. This system’s star was burning white-hot in a cloudless sky. How could the Arcosians tolerate it? I was melting. Jahu seemed acclimated, or maybe she had to maintain a certain appearance. I don’t know—this place wasn’t much of a paradise. It was suffering, pure and simple. I wanted nothing more than to get into my pod and crank up the cooling vents.
“Have you gotten any indication of how powerful he’s become?” I asked in an attempt to break the awkward silence that had befallen the beach.
“That’s impossible to know. He’s the strongest in the empire for sure, but I couldn’t quantify it. Scouters don’t read anything nearly that high. I mean, really—do you have any idea how strong Kuriza is?”
“He’s so far beyond me, I can’t fathom it.”
“The emperor has no equal. By how much he outpaces his nephew is anybody’s guess. This will be most interesting. He’ll push Icer more than I have. Maybe he’ll get him to sweat a bit. Don’t know how he doesn’t in this heat.”
“Must be used to it. He conquered this world before I was born,” I said, wiping my forehead with a sleeve.
They met over the water, and after a brief conversation (we were too far away to hear anything), fell into their fighting stances. Icer threw himself at the boy, shooting forth with a series of punches and kicks in quick succession. My lord parried calmly, doing well not to let his defenses slip while being pushed back.
Icer’s tail whipped around from the left, smacking the prince across the head, sending him crashing to the turf. Without missing a beat, he lunged past his front-flipping uncle and received another air-splitting tail whack to the skull jewel.
Collecting themselves, the pair took to the air, and their speed soon greatly exceeded what my eyes could process. Glimpses of Icer battering Kuriza about with his tail teased my vision. Growing nauseous, I abandoned my watch. Time moved slowly in this humid hellhole.
Scanning the area with my scouter yielded scarcely more than a dozen hits, excluding the four of us. “Hardly anybody’s on the planet. What’s going on?”
“Lord Icer prefers to keep light company, especially in these times.”
“Can’t be much to do, then.”
“Eh, we’ve been sparring.”
“In this heat and gravity, there’s no chance I could match your skills—not at my age. I’m getting worn out enough as it is just sitting here, heh.”
“The main compound is maintained by a modest, esteemed crew. You can cool off there. It has a bar, a gambling room, and a masseuse. All run by Zar-Degar, as you’d expect. Top of the line girls, or so I’ve been told. Can’t imagine why they wouldn’t be. The emperor spares no expense. Speaking of which, the kitchen staff is helmed by Nocab, the owner of the famous Nindago’s restaurant. They make ridiculously good food. Trust me, it’s the best. You’ll never want to leave once you’ve had the menu.”
“Nindago’s, yes. I remember that place. They had those giant stuffed meatballs that melt in your mouth. Oh, that sauce they came doused in was so savory and magnificent. Mmm, this will be a rare treat.”
“Best in the universe.”
“Let’s give old Nocab a visit. I’m well and truly famished from the ride over. And you’ll have to show me the gambling room. What’s the game of choice?”
“Sniraak. It’s always sniraak. Station commander’s addicted. Know the rules?”
“Yeah, about a decade ago, I had a minor sniraak obsession, if you could call it that. I think I remember how it goes.”
“With confidence like that, you’ll dominate the table. But seriously, is it wise to leave the prince behind?”
“If he needs me, he knows my scouter channel. I can’t see why he would.”
Jahu led me down the scorching, snaking stone path back to the compound. My stomach grumbled, anticipating what was to come. The outpost would have a tolerable, controlled temperature (if this place was like anywhere else in the empire), and with that in mind, I couldn’t help but think maybe it wouldn’t be so awful to spend a month or two stranded here. We—I—could use the vacation, after all we had been through. If Pax Arcosia, the galactic peace, was in effect, then what better way to celebrate it than with an extended holiday?
I was wilting in the unbearable heat. No wonder Icer had outdueled Arcterial. Kuriza would learn much from his uncle in these coming weeks.
A hand of sniraak lasts no longer than a minute or two, yet in that time, thousands of woolongs can be won or lost. Addictingly stupid game. Drained my bank account faster than a Gorvian Boulsucker on a corpse. Jahu employed an aggressive and confrontational style, which was not an ideal match-up. Whenever alcohol warmed my veins (as it would by the second or third hand at worst), she could pick me apart. Luck never lingered long against her; I remained ever in the hole. Anyway, it was a good time. Didn’t have much else to spend my money on.
The admiral stayed for three more days. Can’t imagine what the losses would have been otherwise. The night before she was to leave, Jahu elaborated on her mission after light prodding and space wine. In the sniraak den with us (at a separate table) was the station commander, Shingo Dilkington, a grey-brown space-badger with beady eyes and a slobbering snout. He was fixated on the brown, bubbly Uu’goc sloshing about in his cup, and the reek of his alcoholism was perceptible from our seats. Our host, a seasoned, shirtless Zar-Degar dealer named Atoke, dealt the first hand, and we ordered drinks.
Drifting in and out of focus, my thoughts hazily and persistently returned to Atoke. While not imperial protocol, Zar-Degar women were notorious for working shirtless, and I can’t say Icer had bad taste, as commonplace as it may be. Her topless bikini was completely understandable given the work environment, but I wondered if she had come here willingly, or if the emperor had snatched up the best card-dealer in the empire for himself. What were the odds of her being so beautiful? To be fair, every emperor had his preferences. Cold had suckled wine from a crystal teat. His sons had obsessed over expanding their empires. This was hardly worse. At least it tickled my fancy.
“I’m heading back to Faeri tomorrow. Sorry to leave you here. Tanarilo may be back soon. I don’t know his schedule. You know, he loves sniraak. Doesn’t play that well piss-faced. You could earn some of your money back if you bait him.”
“Who is that one again? I don’t remember the name.”
“Lord Icer keeps two sparring partners: me, of course, and a man named Tanarilo. He’s usually off-world, overseeing the nil distribution network. I expect he’ll be recalled now that I’m going, unless Kuriza is able to make the emperor sweat.”
“That may take some time. In the meantime, look after yourself. The rumors of what happened on Faeri… my hope is they’re being exaggerated.”
“We’ve evacuated to the moons, Vyrelian and Naelon. Thankfully, my family’s safe. I haven’t seen the most recent death toll—been trying not to think about it—but last I heard, at least a third of the planet’s population is expected to be lost, if not more.”
“Unprecedented. Horrifying, really. Is progress being made on developing a cure? I haven’t heard anything. This is worrisome—most worrisome.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything soon. We’ll see. Not that I know any more than you do.”
Striking a neutral tone, I asked, “Do you subscribe to the theory that the Corvos League released the plague?”
“Sounds more like wild speculation than a theory to me. There’s no evidence of their involvement. It came from Uoto. Don’t you know what happened to the Uttovelm? They’ve gone practically extinct because of this.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t released there. The supposed rumors insist the Corvos League released it on Uoto, knowing what would happen.”
“Rumors are nothing to go to war over. Are you drunk, or nuts? The Corvos League took over the old Galactic Bank’s wealth and territories. Any conflict with them would be costly and bloody. Billions would die. Trillions, maybe. The royal family would have to protect us, and I’m not sure they’d succeed. Meanwhile, the plague is spreading. As things stand, we risk losing everything if we go to war.”
“Where did the plague originate, then, in your opinion?”
“The Uttovelm developed it, released it on Faeri, and lost control of it, leading to the end of their species. They were seeking vengeance against what Bael did to their world.”
“Orbital bombardment. He thought of them as less than vermin.”
“Bael’s dead. The Uttovelm who released the plague are dead. We’re left to endure. Smarter people than me will have to sort this out. Gods, I pray it doesn’t take long. The bodies are starting to pile up.”
After dinner, she excused herself, and for the first time, I was alone in the betting lounge.
Sniraak could be played against either the dealer or an opponent. I had been playing Jahu exclusively for the past few days. The station commander had been playing against the dealer. I hadn’t paid heed to him, his playing style, or his luck. He seemed always to be in a scowling, brooding mood, and he drank a lot—that, anyone could plainly see. Every day, he guzzled down eight or nine flasks of Nhuroggoc (the cheapest, foulest, bitterest alcohol in the universe). Why he preferred that over the smoother taste of, say, imported Nyarin gin, I could not dare to guess. Space-badgers do as they please.
There was hardly anything to do on the island. Hell, there were barely any people to talk to. Four of them were cooks (Nocab and three line cooks); six were maids or janitors; three were Zar-Degar employees (the dealer, bartender, and masseuse). The only other one I’d seen was this Shingo, who evidently ran things around these parts. One other power reading came from deep in the compound. Whoever the last person was, I never saw them my entire time there. I suspect she was Icer’s known Zar-Degar consort, but I shan’t wade too deeply into the pool of speculation.
I was growing fatter by the day, ordering hot bowls of meatballs and noodles from one of the great chefs in the universe. Requesting seconds was the easiest thing when the food was that good. Elsewise, I ventured into the bar to waste more woolongs and calories and watch reruns of the now-defunct Galactrix Arena.
The masseuse’s reserved nature had in it an air of grace. Don’t know if she would do anything more than advertised. I never pushed it. Didn’t want drama. Didn’t want to get us kicked out on my account. Kuriza would never forgive me. Speaking of him, I rarely intermingled with the royals. The boy spent most of his time with his uncle, or in a rejuvenation tank. They kept odd hours. I was for the most part an early riser, although the alcohol was making that an increasingly difficult habit to maintain. They must have been getting up at the crack of dawn, going to bed before I had left the bar.
The only other thing to do, aside from getting roasted by the sun, was to gamble away my hard-earned paychecks, all the wealth I had accumulated through the years. You could blow through a month’s salary in fifteen minutes in a sniraak den. I’ve been there. I know the feeling.
As per usual, Shingo was with Atoke, his fur matted, his teeth yellow, nursing a half-empty bottle. Not to be outdone, I ordered another drink, for it was always more fun to play with the handicap of being drunk. Then it became a true challenge, I told myself. Shingo lost a game against the dealer before cursing the girl out in a spittle-saturated storm. Taking a gulp of Uu’goc, the space-badger began another round, acting as though nothing had happened. He won that one (giving him back about half of what he had lost in the previous round), and cursed her out. He lost the next one and cursed her out.
It was as if my cup had sprung a leak, it drained so fast. Burned less than expected on the way down. The bartender, the lovely, bosomy girl, brought me another, and I felt at once a heated courage rising in my throat. With that recognition came apprehension, hesitation, and then I bought in for ₩50,000 (nothing crazy—just a week’s salary), joining the station commander’s game. I felt alive again. His fatal mistake had been provoking me. Didn’t have anywhere to be or anything to do. Bankrupting the salivating beast became my goal.
The space-badger eyed me and moved closer by one chair. “You thar. Know how to play this fuckin’ game? Eh, wrinkles? I’m warnin’ ya. Think it’s funny, ya decrepit old fuck? Challenge me, and I’ll eat ya alive! This ain’t gonna be no easy time in the retirement home. Yer gonna lose everything and then some. I’m the king of sniraak and I don’t take kindly to challengers.”
“I’ve been here for a week. Been sitting right over there with Jahu. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Never seen ya before. Yer old as a corpse. Look like it, at least. I’d ‘member if I’d seen ya. No, never. Not never! Ya hustlin’ me, guy?”
With that, our rivalry was born. Shingo’s theatrics aside, I knew he remembered me, as two days ago, we had discussed how Tehajil wine (from Atjoh) added a delightfully sweeter and richer flavor to Nocab’s space marinara sauce. I opened that first session by ordering a plate of space mozzarella sticks for the table. Bastard said nothing. Unsurprising.
We played a lot of games. A lot. I thought I was better than him. It felt like I won more, but because I was drinking tons of alcohol, the days began blurring into one, and time went by both slower in the moment and faster overall, so that it became troublesome to remember exactly how everything truly unfolded. The bartender made a fortune off me. Dilkington and the card dealer didn’t do so bad, either—at least, at first. We played for hours each day. She was a trooper. What stamina. There was no reserve card dealer, no one to take over should she need rest. She had to go for as long as we were willing. And we were usually willing to go on for all hours of the night.
Shingo seemed to win every big pot. I could never put him down, never deplete his coffers. He would always thrust in one last time, going all-in with perhaps a quarter of what he had originally had left, and I would, like the sucker I am, always accept the coin-flip bet, and I would always lose, and he would gain on me just enough again, and it was back to the beginning. All that work for nothing. It would take days to chip him back down to dire straits. The cycle would repeat, and I grew to be unsurprised. That didn’t make it hurt less. The sting of a bad beat is imprinted in any gambler’s mind, tattooed for injustice’s sake in the subconscious forever—or at least until the next drink.
Maybe the dealer was rigging the cards to keep things interesting. She made more money than either of us. My tolerance was growing. The alcohol no longer made me as reckless as before, though I was still prone to it on occasion. Playing with a handicap remained ever so enticing. I didn’t want to rid myself of the station commander easily, nor would I. Didn’t seem to me like he had that much money. Nhuroggoc was the only thing he could afford. There wasn’t a cheaper drink on the menu.
Went a little overboard on this trip, must be said. My lord was most understanding for putting up with me. I can only be grateful. It had been years since I had had so good a time, and I think he showed me mercy for that reason. He could have yelled at me or vaporized me, or the like, had he considered what I was doing was too much. Probably was, but the boy had more pressing matters to worry his mind. If he was to become the next emperor, he would need to double-down on his studies with Icer. We could end up staying here for who knows how long. Taking that into account, I began betting less, drinking less. However, I played as many games as before. Had I continued on as before, I would have run out of money before returning home.
That wouldn’t have been a smart move.
I had a craving to play, so play I did, and no longer did I go as easy on Shingo as before. The loose cannon became a determined tactician. Jahu would be proud. He hemorrhaged money and grew purple, and my coffers were restored at his swearing expense. Good times, that, but as I should have expected, he didn’t come down to gamble after the third day of losing his money. Shame. I could have used the woolongs.
One afternoon, some weeks later, we were admiring the sweet air in the hanging gardens when Lord Icer received a message on his scouter. “Yuki has passed through quarantine. She’ll be here in two minutes. Come, let’s greet your cousin.”
Kuriza said nothing. He gnawed on a fingernail, his tail curled upwards behind his back. I’d have to be blind not to recognize that stance. He was nervous. With the emperor around, there was no chance to give him a pep-talk. I felt for the boy.
We made it past the rows of imported flowers and fruiting trees from Arcose (how they endured on this planet, I couldn’t tell you) and soon found ourselves amidst bubbling lily fountains in the shadows of the thirty-foot white-stone statues of Polaria, Icer, and Hail near the gold-and-onyx gates marking the garden’s eastern wall. Beyond, the beach gave way to the tropical Honupolu Ocean, which was warm as bathwater this time of year.
She was there waiting, the half-Saiyan, half-Arcosian, on the other side of the gate, her feet buried in sand. With her was her ever-impish advisor: frail, wrinkly, Kirka. Theirs were the only new power levels. They too had traveled light.
Yuki bowed stiffly in our general direction. “Good afternoon, uncle. Kuriza. Lingon.”
Kirka bowed low enough to scrape his nose against the paved entrance path. Impressive flexibility for a man his age. A psoki bird clicked its crimson beak from one of the nearby trees, and its call was soon answered by another. I dabbed my forehead, wiping the sweat away, and, growing wearier by the second, longed to be back in that sniraak den. Whoever said I would grow accustomed to the climate here was a bold-faced liar.
“I take it you’ve rid your region of pirates and treasonous officers.”
“They have been exterminated. Every last one. Also, the planets in my region are on lockdown, as you commanded.”
Icer nodded, his gaze glossy as if his mind were distracted by something else. “Follow me to the shore. You’ll be facing Kuriza. He’s been spoiling for a fight. I want you to go all-out, notwithstanding the blood relation. Don’t hold back.”
“My power has grown considerably since last we fought, cousin.”
“As has mine,” he replied with a grin, masking his worry well. “Uncle Icer has been a most demanding sparring partner this last month.” He struck a silly pose (his arms flexing up to the left, his tail angled downward to the right), much to my embarrassment. “With his training, my body’s grown a thousand times more durable. Compared to him, I’m afraid, your fists will feel like mushy, melting snow.”
She grimaced and sneered and bit her tongue, and we followed. It wasn’t like anyone could refuse. I hung back with Kirka. The old Ocaran wasn’t the worst company, even if we had little to talk about. There was no pressure to force a conversation on the way down. Better that way. The Arcosians talked long of Kuriza’s training. It was, for my ears, tedious stuff. Yuki maintained an erect posture.
When the pathway ended at the dunes, the Arcosians ran off, stopping only when their ankles were submerged in the foaming water at the shore’s edge. I ushered Kirka over to a spot of shade underneath a wide-leaf tree. He was most grateful for the tip. The man looked as if he had shriveled up after taking a long swim. This was one of the hottest places in the empire, evident to any who visit, and I wasn’t about to let that old golden-ager die of heat stroke. Not on my watch.
They wasted no time before starting the fight. Kuriza was morning-fresh, ready to unleash. Perhaps Icer had held him off from the usual training routines because he had known of Yuki’s impending arrival. Yuki too was at her best (one would assume), and her speed was something special. She tore into Kuriza, taking him aback with her untempered ferocity. It was no difficult thing for her to ensnare him in a combo of elbow, knee, and tail strikes. She really laid into him. Must have warmed up on the flight over.
Fumbling the landing, Kuriza found his footing in the sand and blasted her away with a long series of crimson energy balls. She took to the air. He chased her, matching speed, and struck her hard in the abdomen. Away she flew, her tail spinning limply. A slew of finger beams followed her tumbling body, several striking her backside, propelling her into the water.
I could tell he was boasting because his shoulders were rising up and down with pace and he was making a great many dramatic hand gestures. In an angry spire of water, Yuki soared upwards from the ocean, leading with a flying kick, pinkish energy encasing her foot. When it struck him (I thought it was terribly unprofessional of him to get caught up in boasting), the boy flew high into the sky. She blasted him with a series of lighter pink energy balls, pulverizing him. She was a first-rate fighter. Had good endurance. Had promise. Arcosians, particularly those of the royal family, are known for their resilience. Kuriza had much more in him. She did, too.
“This fight could go on for a while,” said Kirka. “How long does Lord Kuriza train with the emperor every day?”
“Don’t usually have the heat-tolerance to watch a full session, but you are correct. They tend to go like this for hours. You may wish to join me inside. There is nothing as valuable as a well-cooled room on a planet like this, believe me.”
He was looking out to the buildings in the distance, squinting. “I take it there aren’t many people here with the quarantine in effect.”
“Just us, the royals, and the waiting staff.”
“Fifteen of those.”
“Exactly right.”
As the air crackled and boomed, we retreated indoors. I told him about the bar, the masseuse, the card dealer, the chef, and of course the Nhuroggoc-addicted station commander. Kirka was most intrigued. Despite not being a gambler, he enjoyed being served by the chef of the famed Nindago’s restaurant. He wasn’t a heavy drinker. One single glass of space wine to go with his space meatballs—that’s all his miniature potbelly stomach could handle. Probably thought of himself as rather classy. Regarding the masseuse, he said little of her or the subject itself, which made me suspicious. Figured he had a secret fascination he didn’t want me to know about. He’d probably go to her late at night, if you know what I mean.
Dining on stilark meatballs thrown into deep clay bowls of Lipantian rice, we discussed our empires. I wasn’t about to say too much. He seemed happy enough to talk in generalities.
“The first outbreak happened as we were preparing to come here. Planet Nitro 213. It was a total loss.”
“Some of our border worlds have been hit. Kuriza has been destroying them from orbit, unless their resources are too valuable to squander. I won’t sugar-coat it—things look bleak. Many soldiers have already been lost. Even worse, we are only in the early stages of this thing. The ‘galactic zone of infected planets’ is expanding at far greater a rate than expected. It will take decades to replenish our forces.”
“I expect it will continue on in this manner for a long time, for all of us.”
“Let’s hope not.”
“We would be vulnerable to the Corvos League if so.” He was fanning himself with a space napkin, sweating profusely (and not from the spice). “Some say they are the ones who brought this plague upon us. Have you heard anything from Sapras or the others on this matter? I must know.”
“Nothing about that, no.”
“It would be difficult to prove.”
“Yeah, I was going to say it’s impossible to prove. The plague began on Uoto. It could have been the Uttovelm’s doing. How are we to prove otherwise?”
“Bah, I don’t know if I believe the Uttovelm are capable of that. They were devastated by war. Bael obliterated much of Uoto’s surface, killing most of the population. He destroyed every city. The survivors lacked the technology to craft a virus so potent. No, impossible. It had to have been introduced by an outside source.”
“Maybe it had been located beneath the planet’s surface and Bael’s attack let it loose, infecting the first Uttovelm, who spread it to Faeri soon after?”
“What a conveniently ridiculous idea. I do not believe it. I cannot.”
There wasn’t much else to say. He had his opinion on the matter, and I had mine. We weren’t about to change our stances. At least he wasn’t too offended to broach the topic (such creatures are growing ever so common, and are the lowest of louts). After our third round of meatballs, Kirka asked if there was a sauna. Indeed there was (for Icer, in his infinite wisdom, knew best how to relax after a hard day’s sparring session), and so the two of us got a sweat on. We talked some more about the plague and our territories. Nothing meaningful came up. That day, we saw neither the prince nor princess till the sun had sunk below the ocean. They devoured their dinner feast like famished space lynx, had a glass of ice wine, and hopped into the rejuvenation tanks without speaking to us. They must have been utterly spent.
That was all well and good. Kirka looked peeved. I played a few more games with the dealer and got a massage session in before the Ocaran could make his nightly round for good measure. It had been eight days since I had had one of those, so I decided to treat myself. Why not? There was no way of telling whether Kuriza or Yuki was stronger. I had faith in my liege, but what was that except blind loyalty to a kid I had guarded my entire life? I guess, you could say, I’m a biased observer. Kuriza is stronger, and always has been.
The days stretched into weeks. The pervading, persistent heat kept me in a near-constant state of fatigue. I was getting old, and I did not have much energy anymore. Even in the air-conditioned outpost, the climate could not be completely contained. I usually felt faint after lunch, and so I began to take afternoon naps, something I had never even fathomed of requiring before coming here. The alcohol helped to some small degree.
Kirka was always in the area, always lurking. He spent a good deal of time on Yuki’s ship, ruling her empire from a remote video feed. It gave me a sense of satisfaction, seeing him compelled into that. We had the Katchiguri Force. The boy had had the foresight for situations like this. If she could have paid for them right now, she would have. He wouldn’t release them for any price. I knew how he looked at Aranya. An odd pairing, in my opinion. Never understood the interspecies appeal (that’s just me). Yuki had no one as trustworthy as Aranya in her empire. Excluding Kirka (whom she had inherited from her father), she had not built up close relationships with her senior officers and strongest soldiers, and now her lack of charisma was evident. Nothing could or would be said. Only I could appreciate it; only I could catalogue it. She was the inferior ruler. Icer had to know it too. He was sharper than me, wiser and more cunning. He could pick out a royal imposter blinded and hog-tied.
As the weeks wore on, restlessness built itself like combustible propane in my fingertips. I often went in early for the night, for my body could only take so much alcohol. One evening, a month after Yuki had arrived, I met up with Prince Kuriza in the garden around sunset.
He was eating a bowl of what smelled like week-old gubbilfish and rice and looked to be in rather high spirits, despite having a black eye.
“Hiya, Lingon. How are you on this most temperate of nights?”
“I’m alright. Alright. Fret not over me. How are you, my prince? How goes your training?”
He was walking as he ate, pausing to look at the secluded wall of yellow-vined sunhoc pili (native to Dea, the second moon of Planet Sobren). Beneath a full moon, the statues of Icer and his offspring glowed with milky, starry light. I was drawn to the reddish-green vines crawling up the emperor’s statue, almost choking his visage. The air was sweet and sticky. “Arduous. My uncle has really started going all-out now that Yuki’s joined us. I’m not certain I can manage. He’s pushing us beyond what we can handle, beyond our maximums. I’m not sure I can handle it. Nevertheless I will try. I must.”
“Are you keeping up?”
“Oh yes, I am holding my head rather robustly above the water, as they say. It appears I’m apt for this sort of thing. Yuki too. She’s truly my kin.” He smiled, turning away for a moment. “Her Saiyan genes give her a murderous fighter’s mentality—the kind who don’t quit no matter what. She’s a most curious sparring partner. I’m learning loads about my fighting tendencies and weaknesses from our sessions together.”
“You must still be stronger than her.”
“I’m not sure. There is a chance. We have never gone at each other at full strength. Uncle won’t allow it. Only at him, and together.”
We came to a bridge overlooking a rushing river, the water bubbling as vibrantly viridian as Jolean marble. Stopping here in the shade was an excellent choice. I could pretend to appreciate the scenery. He had plenty left to eat. It smelled good, whatever it was. Arcosians preferred space seafood (crustaceans being their favorites, in general). It was no surprise that the boy was having gubbilfish for dinner. He’d had similar meals hundreds of times before.
“Are you close to achieving your uncle’s golden transformation?”
He was surprised I had asked. “Oh no. I’m a long way off from unlocking so terrible a power. And it’s not golden. It’s whatever color I wish it to be. Uncle Icer said so—he said so! I think I’ll not be so gaudy when the time comes. No, crimson is a better look. Purple would be sweet—maybe the color of chillrose. Black if I’m feeling particularly naughty, heheh. I’m unsure. I’ll have to think about it. However, I fear it will take many years before I achieve that level of power. My uncle has offered to spar with me once per year for six weeks at a time as long as I keep my region clear of pirates, which should accelerate my training.”
The next trip better not be as long as this one.
“That should be no problem with the Katchiguri Force deployed to the front lines.”
“I’m well aware. Aranya’s our finest officer. Come now, Lingon. Let’s get you off to bed. You look most dreadfully tired.”
“Oh, no, I’m alright. I may take a nap. But I’m fine. It’s this damn heat.”
I bore witness to one more sparring session between the royal cousins. It was about three days later, at the crack of dawn, when the dunes were not yet so hot as to be unbearable to stand among. Just warm enough to not need a jacket. The waves were riotous that day, and while the fog stretched in miles in every direction, a pink, smoky light was emerging up from the horizon to the Arcosians’ backs. They decided to spar in front of us. Kirka was there, as always. I’m sure he attended as many of those as he could. We had no need to speak.
They weren’t using ki attacks. Kuriza took the initiative, much to my surprise. He went at her low. She was able to throw him off, although not before absorbing several tail slaps to the face. He came at her again. When she parried, he feinted to the left, provoking a reaction.
His right fist swung in, taking her in the jaw. She staggered back, not sensing his follow-up. The boy unleashed a hellish attack of uppercuts with his left fist and deep chest punches with his right. Yuki weathered those punches well. Knocking him back with an upswinging elbow, the half-Arcosian put her cousin on the defensive with a series of low kicks. Every time he jumped, she reached out, attempting to snatch him. Ever so did he remain out of range.
The fifth or sixth time she did that, Yuki crashed into him with another elbow, pinning him in a sand-swallowing crater. There, she tried to choke him out. The boy was slippery. Wriggling and jerking, he evaded her pin, breaking free with a somersault behind her. She dodged his attempted leg sweep and came at him with a flying kick that sent him skidding across the Honupolu like a polished rock.
He was well and truly pissed off now. A furious kiai vaporized the surrounding fog. That usual vein of anger was bulging from his forehead jewel. Confronting her over the ocean, his arrogance overwhelming his discipline, Kuriza’s form hung loose as tattered robes. His emotions were running high. He still had a long way to go. He lashed out with a tremendous burst of wind, his retaliatory strike catching Yuki off-guard. She fought him off as he floated in front of her, slapping her fists away and maneuvering into a more favorable position. Once more, his tail came in. She dodged to the left, showering him with purplish energy balls. His form enveloped in smoke and fire, Kuriza released several crimson finger beams after his cousin, hitting her in the collarbone. They were wearing each other out. More hits were getting through due to impatience and sluggish arms alike than should have.
At that moment, Yuki’s aura exploded with golden light. Her hair bristled upwards and turned golden as well. Charging, she punched through Kuriza’s block, sending him to the ground. Wrapping her tail around his neck, she slammed him against the shoreline over and over again until he gave up.
Spitting up dirt and blood, the prince whined (loudly enough for us to hear): “No fair! Uncle Icer said no transformations!”
He floated above them, his arms folded; he barked for the Arcosians to go again. Yuki’s hair returned to its usual black state as her golden aura vaporized. If she had been attempting to mimic the Golden Emperor, I wasn’t laughing. The two resumed their quarrel. The boy came at her with vicious intent for having broken the rules. That was good of him. Damn her.
“Golden hair, eh? When did she learn to do that?”
“We’re not sure what it is, precisely. Assuredly, a Saiyan trait,” said Kirka. His tone was terse, yet not entirely anti-social. “It appears to be a transformation. She’s been able to use it now for some time. Wouldn’t tell me how long, nor how she realized this potential. She unlocked it during her training, but refused to tell me the circumstances of how it happened.”
“Do you remember the tales of golden-haired warriors taking out the likes of Frieza, and Cold, and Cooler, and Nitro?”
“Yes, I am aware. They were, all of them, Saiyans.” His knuckles went white as he clenched a fist. “The monkeys will have their day. First we must get our house in order. Then, we’ll give those untamed brutes a visit on Earth and Mrov and return their miserable species into extinction where they rightfully belong.”
“Is Yuki ready to avenge her father?”
“Surely not. This form is a boost, but her kin died years ago. We must account for their killers growing stronger in the years since. We cannot afford to enter into another one of these battles unprepared—Yuki is all her empire has left. She will need many more sessions with Icer. This transformation is just the start. She will need more than that to destroy those monkeys.”
“The same is true of Kuriza. He won’t be satisfied until he’s unlocked that new transformation his uncle has. Truth be told, I won’t be confident in his ability to avenge his father until then.”
“We may find ourselves here more often than we’d like, you and I,” the Ocaran said with an uncommon chortle.
“Could’ve been stuck on worse rocks, all things considered.”
“I’ll never understand the emperor’s fascination with worlds as hot as this.”
Ahead, Kuriza kicked his cousin to the dirt. She back-flipped to her feet, slapping him away with her tail. They were fairly evenly-matched from what I could tell. Remembering what the prince had said earlier about neither him nor Yuki ever going all-out in their sparring matches, I very much doubted we would gain any knowledge of their power today.
Between them, they must have known who was the more promising student. My obvious bias aside, it had to be Kuriza. His father had had more potential than hers, regardless of her Saiyan genetics. He had beaten her during the royal family’s civil war in single combat. His exceptional battle talent would soon become apparent to both Yuki and her servant. The prince was of a different class than his cousin. I must admit my impatience in desiring to see this while Kirka was still around. Couldn’t wait to see the color drain from that old space prune’s face when he finally beholds the true potential of Frieza’s son.
I suppose Kirka not being much of a drinker was why we didn’t see each other often. I wondered what he spent most of his days doing. Surely not sunbathing. He hated the weather here more than I did (and that’s saying something). Maybe he spent his free time in the massage room. Everyone spends their money for pleasurable things in different ways. The wine was good for me. I didn’t much like playing sniraak without an opponent to go against. Shingo refused to play against me to that day. Typical vermin behavior.
It was our last day there. We had known this day was coming for some time As the plague spread rapidly through all corners of the consolidated empire, the Arcosians needed to return to their regions and deal with that. The Katchiguri Force could only do so much on their own. The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Who knows what was going on in Yuki’s sub-region. Couldn’t have been good. I blamed her, more than him, for them being sent off. She should have run her territory better.
Before we departed, he took them out on the shore. It was raining that day, of all days, and the humidity was nearly enough to choke the life from me. When he transformed into his Ultimate Evolution, the sky lit up with sovereign command, washing a gleam of fiery gold over the Honupolu Ocean, and for a moment, it appeared as if it were midday beneath the charcoal shadow of swirling storm clouds. His aura dimmed, and he bade both his kin attack him. Within three seconds of them rushing him down, I had lost them. They were moving at speeds far beyond my ability to comprehend. Kirka fared no better.
“How many of your worlds have been infected?” he asked as we watched what appeared to be an empty sky.
“Twenty-seven so far.”
“How many are total losses?”
“Prince Kuriza will make those determinations himself once we leave. Most will be. What about you?”
“Nine. I believe it best if the empress burns them to dust. They’re border worlds—easily replaceable.”
“That’s the kernel of good news in this otherwise massive shitstorm. It hasn’t penetrated deep into our region, to the worlds we absolutely cannot afford to lose. Not every planet has the infrastructure and wealth to do what the residents of Faeri were able to do.”
“I don’t know if it can be stopped. We must try, for better or worse. And whatever you do, even if the rest of the empire must succumb instead, don’t let Kuriza get infected. If the royal family dies, so too will the empire. There are no soldiers capable of running it.”
“Agreed. Keep a sharp eye on Yuki. These Arcosians can be headstrong to a fault.”
“They are unfamiliar with wearing zero-G suits. But it would be for the best when visiting worlds of questionable status.”
They fought and fought, and the sunlight waned, and the rain dissipated. Somehow, the humidity had grown thicker. Exhilarated is the word I’d use to describe how it felt to finally leave (best left unsaid to anyone else there). I was nearly sapped of my strength and I still had to pilot the little lord back. Icer eventually hit them with something that made a crashing sonic boom, splitting the ocean through, sending waves a hundred meters high in either direction, and the pair landed hard, tumbling over one another, on the beach. Neither got up. The waves slammed together, almost rousing a monstrous tsunami. Icer quenched that with a flick of the wrist before descending to Kuriza and Yuki in his Fourth Form.
“Now you know what you are striving towards. The both of you have a long way to go yet. For now, return to your regions and handle the spread of Bahkaar’s Plague. Do not let it overwhelm your planets.”
They swore they wouldn’t and said their goodbyes. Kuriza hugged Yuki. I was surprised by that turn of events. I guess they had bonded now that they were equals under Icer. That was news to me. And I thought I was the boy’s bodyguard. Hah. Getting too old for this.
Bruised though he was, Kuriza was in high spirits on the ride back. He seemed to like his chances against Yuki. The daunting task of achieving his uncle’s Ultimate Evolution had put no damper on his eagerness to grow stronger. Not that I was surprised. He was of high stock, and he wasn’t nearly fully grown.
Later, Kuriza was eating space crab ice cream when I told him the bad news (relaying this message approximately forty-two seconds after receiving it from Aranya). “It’s spread now to thirty-one worlds, my lord. What shall we do?”
“Speak honestly. How dire of a situation is this?”
“No survivors are expected on any installation. Twenty-seven are completely infected; the others are not far off. Since they’ve been on lockdown, the infections have slowly spread through each planet, leaving no one we can reasonably save.”
“Oh.” Gulping down the ice cream hefty spoonful after hefty spoonful, it was a wonder he hadn’t gotten a brain freeze.
“Shall we link up with Winter’s Dawn and the rest of your crew?”
“Oh, Lingon, you muppet! It would be ever so dreadful if my precious Katchiguri Force were exposed to the plague. No, I will handle this myself. My uncle commanded me to be decisive in managing this crisis. The infected must burn. We’ll visit them one-by-one. Set a course.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Off we went, first to Planet Frieza 087, though it was not by any means the last we vaporized before regrouping with Aranya and the others.
Chapter XII: The Order of Melrin[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Lychin |
| Position: | Governor in Icer's Empire |
| Date of account: | December 13, Age 767 (first, second, third, fourth, and fifth scenes) |
Distant explosions reverberated through the city of Seirman. Hardly felt it. We’d grown accustomed to the Melrin gang’s retaliatory bombings. The operation against them had proven moderately successful. Twenty-seven days after Maquin had procured his list to enact the plan, kill teams had been deployed across Faeri’s moons. In that time, he had gathered additional names of Melrin scum. More assassin teams had been added to accommodate, and so the Order of Melrin had been crippled. By all estimates, eighty-five percent had been annihilated. We left the Nil runners alive so Maquin’s survival wouldn’t require justification. He was too valuable to lose.
Five leaders had been taken in the mission to capture Meiquano. They were rotting away in a ramshackle prison on the eastern edge of the Madulen Hotel. While quarantine stations had been installed across Vyrelian, we remained confined to the plaza. Jahu had returned about a week after it had gone down and taken to interrogating (sharply questioning, as she’d call it) the prisoners. None had said anything save for Meiquano, who promised names in return for his freedom. They wanted me to go see him, and in truth, I’d been stalling for the better part of a month. It’s not easy facing betrayal. I had no words for him—just a fist—but as governor, it was my duty to swallow my pride and work towards whatever means necessary to bring down the Melrins.
Two weeks ago Maquin poisoned the Order’s Nil shipments. Probably killed half of them before they figured it out. That was good. They were still managing to sneak shipments in, but we had noticed their meager hauls of late were much more infrequent and in lower quantities than before.
Slowly we were destroying them. Soon, they would be out of money. The captured shipments of drugs and Nil were adding up. They wouldn’t be able to sustain their addictions, especially not at their current capacity.
Maquin had been fired, as one would expect. Every Nil runner had. We had suspected that would happen. It had been decided that he would remain in my employ. His contacts within the Order remained accessible. He would be key in snuffing out the last vestiges of that treasonous group.
I showered and shaved before seeing Meiquano (Marella was to meet me later, though I might have to cancel on her). I had stalled as long as I could, but Jahu had convinced me the night before over cups of Dark Kimbani, a sweet wine native to my homeworld. I would visit Meiquano today, I had sworn, and I would make him talk.
Imbe and I had lunch together. We discussed how her classes were going. Nothing too interesting. I would drag this on as long as possible. Plus, I wanted a few glasses in me before seeing him. Whatever she had cooked—space ramen soup with bits of meat and vegetables—was decent. We were well past the days of me giving her more praise than she deserved. She was a woman, not a girl, and she needed to be treated as such. I refused to give her unnecessary compliments, lest it go to her head.
Imbe had grown bolder since we had come to Vyrelian. In a way, I found it refreshing to be able to engage her in these situations. Sometimes, she was too stubborn for her own good. She was not a good person to argue with because she would not listen to you when you spoke. That was why I preferred to lecture her, which was less manageable in a lunch setting, alas, allowing the noblewoman’s true colors to come out.
“I don’t much think that we should retaliate. It’ll provoke them more.”
“If we don’t give a forceful response, they’ll think we’re weak. The Melrins are operating illegally in clear defiance of the empire. Would you have me tolerate that? What sort of leader would I be if I heeded your counsel?”
She poured us tea and took a long swig before continuing. “I don’t think they would respond with more violence if you let things be. Seems like they only wish to continue their trade, quarantine be damned. Foolish, yes, but they have no choice. It’s their livelihood. Put yourself in their shoes. Have empathy. Not everything is black-and-white. There must be a means to achieve a compromise, to end the threat without spilling more blood.”
Ironic a woman with so little empathy dared lecture me on the subject. She was attempting to edge her way into a seat in the Great Council. I must confess I was growing intolerable of her smugness. The more I grew to learn of Imbe, the less I respected her intellect.
“Imbe, darling, these are no simple acts of retaliation. Their treason started this. They are bombing local shopping and dining areas, killing scores of innocent civilians. The Order possess no morality. These are not good people we’re dealing with. They must be wiped out. If we let them fester, if we let them grow, they will rise against us in the future, after they have regained their strength.”
“You let me and my family ‘fester’. Did we ever come for you?”
“That’s an entirely different situation. Do you—do you think me responsible for your father’s death?”
“No, my lord.”
“I had nothing to do with it. I had nothing to do with any of it. Why would you ever think ill of me?”
“He locked you away. You must hold a grudge.”
“It was a misunderstanding. Anyway, he’s long dead. Why stir up the past with useless ruminations?”
She poured herself another batch of tea and brought out a fresh bottle of wine from the cupboard. Filling my glass, she said, “I heard you went mad in there. They found you raving about a man who didn’t actually exist, like a hallucination. Was that true?”
My blood ran cold. “Who told you that?”
She shrugged. “Gossip from around town. Ladies I know. I heard about it after you came to see my mother and made me your steward. I didn’t know whether to believe them.”
“They’re liars,” I told her in perhaps too stern a tone. “None of them were there. None of them saw me when Icer broke me out. None of them know.”
“I suppose it’s a bunch of rubbish, isn’t it?”
Maybe three minutes passed before she was refilling my glass. I wasn’t feeling it. My foot tapped against the ground. I wasn’t usually this agitated. “You honestly believe we should lay off of them? To what end?”
“They’ve suffered enough. Pax Arcosia was meant to be a time of peace. We should honor that agreement,” she said after a while, her head bowed. I wondered why she had taken so long to respond. “Anything more would be cruel.”
“They’re the ones engaging in treasonous activities. It takes a weak leader to succumb to a rebellion’s demands. If you are to take a seat on the Great Council of Faeri when you’re older, you must learn strength, resilience, and to never tolerate disrespect from those beneath you. Society cannot function in a world where the dregs command the elites to action.”
There was that shrug again. How casually she dismissed my arguments without offering a counterpoint made my ears grow hot. “I think… well, were it up to me, I’d leave them alone. Has there been an outbreak on Vyrelian since we’ve been here?”
“There hasn’t, but that’s due to my—”
“They must employ a strict quarantine on their imported goods. So what if they’re smoking Nil or other stuff? So long as they aren’t hurting anyone.”
“They are.”
“Because you attacked them. Anyone would react the same.”
“Regardless of how you feel about it, Cooler conquered us. The Faerin Empire no longer has any right to exist. For the sake of our species’ survival, we must adhere to Planet Trade protocol. Tell me, girl, do you think they should give up their cure for Bahkaar’s Plague?”
Her fingers trembled as she refilled my glass, which I downed quicker than the last. Too much caffeine had affected her mood. “Surely, my lord.”
“Consider our actions provocations towards that end.”
“Weren’t there bottles of antidotes or whatever in any of the bases your soldiers raided?”
“No signs of anything of the sort. Meiquano wasn’t known to associate with the Order of Melrin until Maquin’s report. I don’t get it. Why did they save him and let others die? Iriseni was a member of their crew. In fact, the first outbreak on Faeri, in the Radiant Hotel, came from one of their well-known haunts. Why were none of their other members saved? Additionally, Meiquano wields minimal power on the council. If they are using him as a spy, they must know we’ll see it coming.”
“Maybe they didn’t have the stuff on hand? It’s bizarre, to say the least. Something isn’t quite right. I don’t know.”
She poured me another glass. This being my fourth, I paced myself. “Possibly an unexpected outbreak. That would mean the Order of Melrin’s in contact with someone who has the cure—perhaps the same person who unleashed the plague on Uoto.”
Her head bowed, she said, “A chilling thought.”
“You disagree?”
“It’s not that, sir. I don’t know what to—I don’t know what to say. These matters are beyond me. There’s a long road ahead before I’ll be ready to take my seat on the Great Council.”
I felt relieved, I’ll not lie. “Imbe, worry not. These talks alone will give you experience. You’re sharper than most. I appreciate your counsel.”
She smiled—a thin, snaking smile that never betrayed a hint of teeth. I had never seen her more gleeful. A strange look clouded her eyes. Was it lust? I don’t think so. I wouldn’t dare to find out. Imbe refilled by glass for the final time, and I downed that one in maybe a gulp or two before rising. She ran to get my cape—the magenta one with the white borders. There was no need to wear armor today.
“Will you hurt him, my lord?” she asked me as she hooked my cape into place.
“Whatever it takes to make him talk. We’ll acquire the cure one way or another. Meiquano and I have a history together. He’ll break before it comes to that.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“What’s one man’s life worth versus the rest of the empire?” I asked her.
“Not much. But he’s not bad. His heart is good, much better than Calansi’s or Baboca’s. The Melrins could be using him as a distraction. You must make sure.”
“Aye. We’ll see how good he is when he weighs the fate of the empire against his own life.”
With that, I moved to the door. “If I’m back before the council meeting, bring out another vintage bottle. Dry, if we have it. Something old.”
“I know just what you need, sir,” she said with that same meager smirk.
That was how I left her. My mind had focused entirely on Meiquano. I wasn’t much looking forward to this, I must stress again. The alcohol was doing little to liven me. Temaya and Jahu would be waiting for me. If it came down to it, could I order him to be tortured? I don’t know that I could. Jahu would do it. She’d jump on the chance. Temaya might not approve, but she lacked the seniority to stop us.
I was very much hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Foul business awaited either way and no matter what Imbe said, heads would continue to roll, including Meiquano’s, until we had our hands on that cure. The Order of Melrin could piss off with their truce talks until then. Absurd that they believed they had any leverage.
I told Maquin to go through with it over my scouter. Three more Melrin leaders had been captured since yesterday. A team had been dispatched to their hideout. With any luck, the Order would be one hundred fifty-two members fewer within the hour.
They were holding Meiquano in the basement of the Madulen Hotel, amongst crates of wine and cleaning supplies with the odd space rat here and there. Merely the one light hanging from above his cell. Sparse as could be. They had built it in record time, leaving me suspicious. Metal bars had been welded to the floor. Had the shack already been here? Wasn’t for me to ask. Preferred not to introduce drama into the equation.
A ki restraining collar around his neck, the light blinking red as a wound, indicated he could no longer access ki. Whoever had had one of those on hand deserved a holiday bonus. Galactrix Arena collars were rare nowadays, although perhaps a market had opened up in the wake of the Arena’s collapse, and someone had begun manufacturing them again.
That was a surefire way to make a metric shitton of money. I considered opening a shop using Meiquano’s as a model once the plague had been dealt with and we had returned to Faeri. More and more, that nagging feeling to get myself out of this political quagmire screamed in earnest inside my skull.
Jahu was with him. Well met. Her emaciated prisoner appeared ragged. They were starving him until he talked. Always a good motivator. He had been locked away nearly a month. One cannot overcome hunger. The days were adding up; he had been reduced to skin and bones, his clothes half falling off him.
“He’s sworn he knows nothing, that they took him against his will, and that he is not with them. He hasn’t given us much. Temaya has come down every few days to sample his blood.”
“Command the guards to eat their meals in front of him. This has gone on long enough. What is Temaya up to?”
“She may be able to recreate the cure from what’s in his bloodstream.”
“Timeline?”
“No idea. She didn’t know. Maybe weeks, maybe months, maybe years.”
“Years would be far too much. No good. We can’t afford every planet befalling Faeri’s fate. The empire will collapse. This will become her singular focus.”
“We shan’t collapse as long as we adhere to the quarantine protocol. Planets will be lost, aye, but not as many as you fear, Lychin. You’ve grown too jaded in your older age,” she said with a laugh.
Her insult hit harder than a fist. Though I’m not a proud man, what could I say? She’d sussed me out. After Polaria, after Bael, after the plague, it’d grown difficult—nay, impossible—to feel hope, to welcome the future. Marella was no replacement for Polaria, but still, life goes on, right? I had to move on. Funny, that. Pax Arcosia had been declared, and yet I had never felt there could have been a more miserable time to govern Faeri, even when those Jolean pirates led by King Kieno, the Ever-Drunk, had tried to plunder our homeworld. Nor even when Cooler had annexed us and the Faerin Empire had died.
How this whittled away at my patience and fortitude. We were up to fifty-four percent casualties for those who had once lived on Faeri. These were heavy losses—losses that would not be recovered for generations after I was gone. Regardless of if a cure was found, this would last the remainder of my life.
One thing I was sure of: I could defeat Meiquano, collar or no collar. Confidence cloaked me when I stepped into the cage. The moral ramifications were cast from my head, knowing what I was doing was for the good of the empire. This was not only for my people but for all of the Planet Trade Organization. Meiquano would talk. One way or another, he would give us what we needed. If he had to bleed, so be it. If we had to endure screaming, begging, and pleading, so be it. This was for the good of the empire, I told myself, repeating the phrase over and over again in my head and thinking of nothing else.
I removed my scouter, setting it on silent mode before beginning.
“Morning, Meiquano,” I said, kicking him in the ribs. The poor boy looked a mess—bruised and famished and tired. The youth had fled his eyes. Forgive me if I had no empathy to spare. I kicked him again, this time with the toe of my boot, and he whimpered, crawling to the far edge of the cell, no more than a few paces away. “Millions are dying from the plague. The longer you keep the cure from us, the worse this will get. Their blood is on your hands. We don’t have time for your song and dance.”
“I don’t know anything about it. I swear. Governor, please, they didn’t tell me. I didn’t even know I was cured until that doctor said—”
He sounded utterly exhausted, his voice a shadow of its formerly boisterous self. Death was not far off. He wouldn’t survive my beatings if I put a modicum of effort in. While holding back didn’t come naturally, we needed him alive so that he could talk. Without him, we were fucked. We could execute him afterward.
“How long have you been associated with the Order of Melrin?”
“Ne—” I kicked him. “Never. On my life, Governor, never! They abducted me after I was taken to the hospital in Mithran. I’d never met any of them before, never heard of them. They took me away at night. They may have killed or drugged the nurses. I don’t know what was going on. They heavily sedated me—and, well, uh, they gave me something. I drank it. I don’t know what it was. It tasted foul as tar. Bitter beyond belief. Thought I would throw it up. They said if I did, they’d kill me. It must’ve been an experimental drug. I was their test subject. That’s it. Kill me now and you’ll fulfill their desires. They have their cure, the council has one fewer seat.”
Jahu and I exchanged a look. “Yeah, heard that one before. Been singing that same sad tale since he arrived. Hasn’t changed a fact about it. Heh, it’s almost word-for-what what he told me. Either it’s true, or he’s properly rehearsed it.”
“Continue your story,” I instructed the nobleman.
“My symptoms cleared up within an hour or two, and I was good to go after three days. I hadn’t been with those guys for very long. Their bosses requested a meeting with me, but they never got around to it. Your team, uh, found me first.”
“What would that meeting have entailed?”
“Don’t know from their end. I had lots to ask: who they were, why they had taken me, and where the cure had come from. Governor, I didn’t know they were Order of Melrin guys until after I drank the medicine. Thought they were doctors trying something desperate. The entire ordeal’s been surreal. I can’t believe it. I can’t.”
“What were you told about what you drank?”
“Didn’t tell me shit. Not too hard to piece together when I was feeling better an hour later.”
“Are you now immune to the plague?”
“How am I supposed to know? They didn’t tell me shit. I already said. They used me like some goddamn lab rat.”
Another kick and he fell to his side, squeaking like a bleeding rodent. I slapped him across the face. Then, my boot went to his throat, pinning him. A solid beating commenced. I wasn’t playing around, though, as I mentioned earlier, didn’t go at him too hard by my standards due to his fragility.
“This line up with what he told you?”
Emerging from the shadows outside the bars, Jahu gave a curt nod. He could have been telling the truth, I’m not going to lie. Were I to believe him, it’d be akin to dereliction of duty. On the other hand, if he were telling the truth, what we were doing to him was remarkably unjust. Irrelevant. Our empire’s fate mattered more than this man’s life. The time for tenacity had come.
“Give me the names of any leaders of the Order of Melrin who were not killed or captured in the last offensive or any subsequent strikes. Anyone you talked to, overheard others mention—anything you know.”
“I… may know of one or two. Those who interrogated me could’ve used fake names for all I know. I’d need to see the list of those already taken out.” I cleared my throat and Jahu scampered off to find a servant who could write this down. “I don’t think I ever met one of the big guys—the real leaders, I mean—but I do know a couple names.”
“If those pan out, I will consider freeing you. Otherwise, you’ll never leave this place.”
“Really, Governor, you’d leave me here to rot?”
“Don’t act surprised. You were found amongst our enemies, having been cured of the plague—the single known case in the universe. That warrants serious explanation. You alone can save yourself, Meiquano.”
“Can’t you see what a shitty situation I’m in, then, yeah? Can’t you appreciate it, sir? I don’t know what else to tell you. My life’s become a living nightmare!” He dribbled out a mixture of spittle and blood. There’d be more where that came from. “What else can I say except what truly happened? If this was a lie they were planning on using to install me as a puppet member of the Great Council, don’t you think they’d expect it not to work? It’s too on the nose. I am not your enemy. If you kill me now, they’ve won another battle.”
“We’ll see about that.”
My boot was put to more use as we waited. Fifteen minutes later, Jahu returned with the list. She handed it to me through the bars, and I showed it to him under the dangling light. One of his eyes was puffing up from injury, but he could still read.
“Well?”
“Yes, I-I can give you more.”
“How many?”
“I’m not sure what’s the term for them—underbosses or lieutenants— four guys who report directly to the ‘big man’. They’re not on your list.” After Jahu produced a writing utensil and I passed it over, he wrote their names at the bottom of the paper.
“Who’s this big man?”
“No idea, sorry. Only heard them talk about him. The one in charge. I don’t know, maybe his name’s Melrin.”
“I’ll order hits on them at once. If killing these men affects the Order’s activity, we’ll consider releasing you.”
“Thank you, Governor. You’ll see. They’re Melrin men. Unless you’ve killed ‘em already, it’s a guaranteed blow to the bastards.”
“We’ll see. Make yourself comfortable. This could take a while.”
I left the cell and returned to my scouter, my thoughts shifting to Marella. A week was too long to go without seeing her. Another dinner date was in order. Maybe we could squeeze one in tonight. I missed her greatly. On the way upstairs, I passed the info off to Maquin. The admiral followed me up, quiet as a summer breeze. I hadn’t noticed Jahu had been offended by my interrogation (if it could be called that) until we reached ground level. The look on her face was akin to what one would make after opening a jar of spoiled meat.
“So that’s it? Don’t have any other questions for him? Really, Lychin? That wasn’t exactly the most thorough interview I’ve been a part of.”
“You heard it from Meiquano’s lips, same as me. He doesn’t know what was in it. He isn’t a vaccine expert. He may be lying, and I believe he very well could be, but the most tenable path forward is sampling his blood. As it stands, Temaya remains our best hope.”
Speak of the devil, she came in at that moment, carrying a bag from which a multitude of syringes protruded. We exchanged hellos (not hugging this time, being in our suits), and she was soon on her way downstairs.
“What did you make of him? Authentic or a spy?”
Jahu snorted. “That guy’s got Melrin running in his blood as thick as the cure. I understand why we can’t waste him yet. Looking forward to the day Temaya’s work is done and we can light that fucker up.”
“I don’t know. He may be hiding something. We’ll further limit his rations. When he becomes delirious with hunger, he’ll slip up. They always do. Guards eating in front of him will accelerate the process.”
“On the off-chance he’s innocent—”
“I know. I know. Honestly, I do. If the hits pan out, we’ll set him free and use his blood to save everyone. Otherwise, he’ll remain down there, and you can have your way with him. Take however long you want.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Have my way with him?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Don’t pretend to be obtuse.”
“Sure, sure.”
Maquin opened my private channel, alerting me more bombings had taken place. “If this proves to be correct information, expect a lot more of that. Increase security around public areas and double the soldiers around the Madulen Hotel compound.”
“Aye, sir,” Maquin responded. “I’ll get right on it. If anything else comes up, I’ll let you know.”
That man was proving to be a most valuable assistant. I had ceded a portion of my power by allowing him to contact the Great Council members with information I’d decided to share. Imbe only wished she could do that. In time, maybe she would. My preference was to continue operating in this manner. It made things much smoother, even if it gave Maquin limited discretion in terms of what exactly he said to the other members. Fewer headaches for me would make the empire operate more efficiently.
Temaya returned minutes later, clutching a clear bag overstuffed with syringes (Jahu was long gone by then, having other matters to attend to, or so she said).
“More samples today. Pricked him like a stuck bhourven. I’m going to send them out to specialists around the empire. Meiquano remains in stable health. I’ve given him another sterile cleanse. He’s not at risk for infection. His bones won’t heal as quickly as his skin. Be careful. Internal bleeding could lead to his untimely end.”
“Specialists, as in those from Yuki and Kuriza’s regions?”
“Haimaru’s as well. We’re outsourcing help in any way we can. There’s no time to wait for a breakthrough. Developments will advance faster with more eyes on the data. Just worried I’ll suck him dry. I’ve been drawing his blood two times a week, which is basically the limit for Faereth.”
I didn’t know that. “Yes, of course. Go on.”
“I’ve done him twice over the last six days. There’s a chance I could pull another sample out of him tomorrow. Scientists in Yuki’s region require more than I can give them.”
“It would be a scandalous accident. Under no circumstances can that occur. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Quite sure. I calculated his exact body weight before making my decision. He’s undernourished, although he remains within the limits of what I need. Guarantee he’ll survive. He won’t feel well for the next four or five days, but he’ll survive.”
“Well, I don’t want to hold you up. Please, get this rolling.”
It was time to leave. For Meiquano’s sake, his information had to be true. Maquin still had contacts (fewer than before) within the Order. He would be able to tell me within hours after the hits were carried out if those men were gang members. If they were not, Meiquano would be executed not simply for lying but for condemning four men and their servants to undeserved deaths. His life would not repay theirs. Sometimes, that’s the only way.
He had to know the stakes of what he’d gotten into. Were he with the Melrins he would not have done this without an endgame in mind. I decided to bump up his personal security by five hundred percent before leaving, just in case. The Council would finance their meals. We’d spare no expense. One could never be too careful, especially these days.
My entourage (four servants plus a dozen guards) met up with Jahu, Imbe, myself, and eight additional guards in the hotel plaza after lunch. With how things had been going, increasing security was necessary. I had called together a Great Council of Faeri that afternoon. We took our time, consuming drinks and snacks because Temaya hadn’t finished distributing the blood samples. Maquin informed me, as we were having tea, that the hits had been carried out. Now we waited.
What would the emperor think of Meiquano’s return? Technically, he had never resigned or been removed from his seat on the Great Council. A quandary had arisen: six living members with five available seats. Icer wasn’t bound to visit Faeri soon, so if Meiquano’s information proved valuable, he would be reinstated. Not to say I trusted him. The opposite was true, in fact. Shouldn’t be a big deal to maintain the six seats from before. A few months ago, the emperor had been unconcerned with our number. I made the executive decision. If Meiquano were proven innocent, he would return to his post on the Great Council. Otherwise, we’d execute him, and the emperor would never know.
There couldn’t be more than a few hundred Order of Melrin members left. Decades would pass before they replenished their ranks. They wouldn’t be afforded that time. Their power was diminishing. Soon, they wouldn’t be a pebble in my boot.
The guards played a corhu-corghu (a type of darts game) tournament. Drinks were poured. I didn’t partake, as the wine earlier had taken me near to my limit with the impending Great Council. I guzzled water, I remember, with plenty of ice. Had to be forward-thinking. Imbe entertained the guests as I sat in the corner, thinking over what I needed to say in the upcoming meeting.
She grew bolder by the day. And she’d done this without asking me. Presumptuous. I didn’t intervene because I was too tired to entertain the lackeys. This had been a high-stress day. She was taking advantage, knowing that. Whether or not she knew I knew, I cannot say, but she went well above her station at that party, having three glasses of wine (that I counted). Imbe was her father’s daughter. Whether it was genetic or taught, I could not say. The way she held court reminded me of him. Her charisma was remarkable. Would make a good politician, I think.
I sipped water, thinking of Meiquano, a feeling of dread filling me, almost ruining the experience as I waited for Maquin’s response. It could take hours. He might not respond until the Great Council was in session. I was hoping his contacts would be better than that. The young man sat at his station in the left corner of the room, typing away, making hushed calls. My eyes frequently drifted to him, although he had nothing to report.
The water was tasting more and more stale as time wore on.
There was a certain cunning to her, I guess is the term for it, in how she maneuvered herself in social settings. Imbe assumed I was preoccupied and drunk, believing herself so clever for getting away with it. Those glasses of Dark Kimbani had made her reckless. She didn’t suspect a thing—I am relatively sure of that. Even in her semi-drunken state, she remained mostly professional, and she could engage her peers effortlessly. I kept that in mind. Imbe was a rare find, truth be told. I did wonder why today, of all days, she chose to have a few glasses. Never seen that before.
You must understand, I had never seen her drink. Never. Not on holidays, birthdays, or whenever I offered her some. I had considered her sober. Evidently not. A queer situation had arisen. As I said, I was preoccupied with other things, so I perceived her actions in my periphery.
We had been there for what felt like three glasses of water (I’m not a fast drinker) before Temaya contacted me. I whistled to the crew, and we prepared to leave. I noted that several of them staggered to their feet. They’d be replaced by guards with better judgment in the coming weeks. They didn’t know, which tickled me good.
Baboca was on his way down to our makeshift chambers. Calansi, as always, would be present, though to say he offered much in the way of counsel outside of pushing for the Nil trade to expand would be a lie, and I’m not in the business of doing that.
Our meager ensemble set off for the hotel manager’s office with guards cloaking us in a box formation. Jahu, Imbe, and I made up the middle. Our servants formed the next layer. The guards formed the largest and most formidable wall. I thought it odd at the time, for Jahu was stronger than any of our guards. Why did she need protection? The plague remained an imposing threat, but realistically, nothing the Order of Melrin could throw at us should make her sweat. And that’s not to mention how strong I was, either. I put those guards to shame.
In the distance, an explosion rattled the air. We came to a stop. Not three seconds later, Maquin called me. Impressive promptness.
“Hits’ve gone through, boss. Confirmed. My contacts say it’s been absolute chaos down there.”
“How bad is it?”
Another distant detonation shook the ground. Nobody flinched. Jahu’s expression hardened. I’d pay good money to see her fight.
“Devastating. We hit them hard. Took out scores of their surviving members.”
“Anything else?”
“Send soldiers to Meiquano’s cell and release him. Tell him to join us in the Great Council of Faeri. If he wants to have a hardy meal before that, let him.”
“Understood, boss. Anything else?”
“I’ll have more for you later. We are not done yet. Stamping out these cretins remains our utmost priority.”
“Understood. I’ll keep in touch with my contacts. All I know is it’s devolved into chaos. They lost most of what remained. Who knows if they can finance future shipments to the moon?”
He had been well worth his price. “I assume those explosions are their retaliations?”
“They’ve hit four public centers in the northeastern region. Twenty-three casualties. One hundred twelve wounded. Thirty-eight in critical condition. Numbers rising, of course.”
“Damn it! Find the surviving members and hunt them down. Do whatever it takes!” I roared.
Everyone was looking at me. I tried not to gulp. My mouth had grown dry. It was a reflex. They didn’t say anything, for their worth. Imbe’s head was bowed. She seemed impatient. I regretted not having at least one more glass. I was feeling sluggish, tired, almost ready to nap. The council meeting would be brutal.
“I’ll get right on it, sir. In the meantime, you should retreat to a safe location. No telling where their bombs will detonate next.”
“We’re still in the hotel complex,” I reminded him. “This place has the most stringent security in Vyrelian.”
“Right, but watch your back.”
“Duly noted.”
I severed the connection. Jahu made a beeline over, whispering in a hushed tone, “We can’t bring Meiquano on. He’s clearly compromised.”
“I’m aware. The Melrins must think themselves rather clever. We’ll play into their hand for now. Lead them on, and with their own rope, suffocate them.”
“Our security will be compromised. Anything we say in the council will put us at risk.”
“I’m not interested in the on-moon lieutenants and captains. I want the top-level Melrins. They’re accessible through Meiquano. Their organization has external backing, otherwise they would’ve long ago been eradicated. We’ll use the weapon they chose against us to eliminate them. It’s poetic, wouldn’t you say?”
“We’ll see. Play with fire, and you’ll get burnt, Lychin.”
Making our way through the courtyard, a group of shadows sprung from behind the pillars and doorways, encircling us—Melrin scum. They were twenty or so. Couldn’t get a proper count because it happened so fast. I guess we’d been sitting space ducks out there. No words were exchanged. Curses were muttered. More than a guard or two looked unnerved. The Melrins were brimming with swagger and bloodlust. Several appeared about to have heart attacks with how purple their faces had become. They sneered and shifted on their feet; the guards remained strictly calm, refusing to engage in any shit-talking. They could not afford a hole in the box formation lest my servants fall into peril. I wished not for them to die, though in truth, they could be replaced.
Without warning, a hail of ki rained down upon us, detonating in splatters around the box. Servants and guards alike fell screaming. Others were dead before they hit the ground. The most unfortunate were blown to pieces, showing us their insides as they split apart in gory torrents. Imbe had clutched my leg. Then, inexplicably, she sprinted away to the guards. We waited, as the Melrin gang did not attack. I knew what that meant: recharging their energy for another salvo to wipe out the remainder of my retinue. Well, I wasn’t down for that. Their power was clear; the time was now.
The second wave unleashed itself, and more fell. This time, the vanguard rushed in, breaking through my guards with ease. Two came at me before I could prepare myself. Nevertheless, ki blasts to their faces were enough to down them. These were impressive warriors, the likes of which I hadn’t expected from a ragtag rebel group. The ease at which they cut through my security was more than concerning.
“Jahu, another salvo’s coming!”
“I know,” she responded, rising four or five meters over the scattered remnants of our group. The admiral put up a whitish-blue bubble of ki to shield the survivors (about twenty percent), and nobody was further wounded. Down went the shield, and with a cry, Jahu launched herself at the traitors. The remaining guards followed, and what ensued was a short fight.
They were overmatched by Jahu alone, though they achieved three more kills, which annoyed me greatly. I blamed that on the guards indulging in alcohol during our earlier wait. I resolved to never allow that policy in the future. The survivors would need to be replaced, regardless of whether or not they drank. Their showing was unacceptable.
Jahu was nonchalant about the whole thing. We vaporized the bodies of the dead without offering last rites (none deserved them). In the distance, another explosion went off. That was growing too familiar. I hardly recoiled, becoming keenly aware of how the cold blanketed Vyrelian as sunset approached. The temperature changes were not as gradual here as they were on Faeri. That one was large enough to feel in the boots. I gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes.
“Come, Lychin. You’re not wounded, are you?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
The wounded Faereth grunted and cried out. They’d be left for the medics. The call had already been made.
“Let’s get this council meeting over with. The emperor has recalled me again. I don’t have much time.”
“Color me jealous. By training with the emperor, you’ve become one of the strongest members of the entire Planet Trade Organization. You’re far above my capabilities.”
“Oh, stop it, Lychin. Really, they were nothing. Have more confidence in yourself.”
“Easy to say from your vantage.”
“Be that as it may—”
“Be that as it may, the admiral of the Faerin Fleet has an obligation to protect her homeworld from imminent danger.”
“It’s a few weeks every couple of months. Don’t fret. Would you dare question Icer’s orders?” She gave me a devilish grin.
“No. Of course not. Hurry back.”
She winked before we entered the building. My worry was not for Jahu, but for my people. My earlier concern was my laziness. I didn’t want to be forced to eradicate the gang members myself. If it came to that, yes, I was capable. My thoughts were instead on Imbe. She had run towards the Melrin soldiers after the first volley. Had that been a calculation or a moment of drunken panic?
Difficult to say. I was conflicted. She couldn’t be with them, could she? No. Her mother had met with a man, Jaguan, months ago. Since then, she had not been sighted with any known Melrins. His connection to her was tenuous, perhaps a love affair. That would make the most sense, considering her coldness towards me. She had another she loved, humoring me to be polite. Even so, that meeting was unexplained, gnawing at my brain in the dark hours before sleep. He had not been a drug dealer nor a money hustler. That man had been one of the gang’s officers. Dead for two months. If the Order were involved with Marella and Imbe, then I was in trouble. I couldn’t discard this fear as rampant paranoia.
Entering the hotel, we left the retinue at the door, for I felt uneasy. I’m sure they believed it to be a defensive move. So be it.
Nothing could rattle me. Those who had been lost were useless. Baboca, Temaya, and Calansi waited inside the hotel manager’s office, a cramped room we had refurbished months ago into something capable of housing us comfortably. Imbe came along. While it wouldn’t be ideal for her to become aware of my suspicions, somebody needed to refill the drinks. Whenever Meiquano arrived, we’d account for him accordingly. I viewed the man no longer as a person but as an instrument to be manipulated to the council’s whims.
They were babbling when I entered. The lot of them were like Sobren apes, as far as I was concerned: rowdy, uncouth, disrespectful. Silently, we took our seats. Baboca’s cheeks were colored a deep shade of indigo. Imbe refilled their cups of tea, pouring Jahu and myself fresh ones in record time. The scent of Munatogomi, the classic tea flavor of the Seinoco region, permeated the room.
“The risks outweigh the rewards,” said the governor. He was agitated. The man was too invested in the outcome of this debate. He would make things dramatic before admitting he was wrong. Emotional child. Didn’t matter to me so much. “We will continue with the standard procedure.”
“Is that the will of the council?” asked Spicemaster Calansi.
Glances were exchanged. Before a single Faerin could speak, the spicemaster rose to his feet, jamming a remote wireless connection beacon into the console receptacle at the head of the table. I had not been informed of this. You must understand my first thought was to consider Calansi insubordinate.
The video monitor came online in a white flash.
“Governor Lychin, Admiral Jahu, Vice-Governor Baboca, Director-General of Medical Affairs Temaya, and Spicemaster Calansi, greetings.”
It was that rotund Jolean, Amontchi. While he believed himself clever, he wore his greed and impatience on his sleeve with brazen arrogance. It quivered in his third chin. “What business do you have with us, Governor?” I asked.
He was taken aback by my comment, innocuous as it had been. “Dare you speak to me in such a manner? I’ll have you reported for gross impoliteness, servant!” Amontchi bellowed. “And you there, please—yes, you, girl—fix our call connection. Been a tad jumpy. Unacceptable.
“Sounds like your own proble—”
“We’ll get right on it,” I said, interrupting Jahu. I wasn’t in the mood for arguments or prideful comments, so I ignored the disrespect. “I’m Governor Lychin,” I said (shocked as he must have been, he hardly reacted to the reveal). “What business do you have with us? We’re in a council meeting, so we’d prefer you not to take up more of our time.”
“Listen to me, Lychin. You’re going to fast-track the spice shipments from my planet to yours. The quarantine check delays are unacceptable. It’s costing me business and reputation. Green-light my shipments to their destinations, or we’re going to have a problem.”
“I assume you’re decontaminating them at Atjoh’s stations?”
“They will be.”
“If you add four guards per transport, we may consider it.”
“Fine, do it. Whatever it takes.”
Baboca rose to his feet (as I knew he would). “Have you, good sir, heard of the Order of Melrin?”
“Are they a band? I must confess, Baboca, I don’t find most post-Cooler space punk listenable.”
“They’re a volatile Faerin gang,” I said.
“Never heard of them. What’s their deal?”
“Check your supply vehicles before departure. Make sure they aren’t stowing extra cargo.”
“What should I expect to find?”
“There’s a possibility the Order will capture your ships to get around our local security, allowing them to import illegal drugs and whatnot.”
Amontchi began smoking from a Nil pipe. “I will add six thousand soldiers to the transports before they leave. Good enough for you?”
Baboca was frowning. Jahu and Temaya seemed to care very little. Calansi’s opinion was known. Personally, I didn’t think the Jolean’s position was unreasonable. If Melrin contraband were found on his vessels, it would be Governor Amontchi’s fault, not mine. This was a relatively risk-free operation, and it would allow for much-needed profits to be made in these lean economic times.
“The Order of Melrin will seek to use those ships. Even if once. They may know they probably have one shot. They could use those ships to not only bring in their vile drugs but to orchestrate an assassination attempt on us,” said Baboca. “Let alone accidentally unleash the plague.”
I wasn’t buying it. “They wouldn’t dare. The entire populace would turn against them. Icer would send a kill team to wipe them out. It would be suicide.”
“Revenge can cloud one’s judgment. They may simply want payback for what we’ve done to them. They may be too weak to ever rise against us otherwise. Besides, the victor defines history—if they overcome us, the masses will remember us as having been villains the entire time,” Temaya said.
“We’ll have our soldiers check the ships before distributing their cargo.”
“No delays!” said the Jolean.
“The inspections shouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes. Don’t worry, Governor, we’ve enough soldiers for this.”
He took another puff from his pipe. “Well, if those are the terms, I agree to them. What say you?”
Once more, my eyes scanned the table. “Are we for this motion or against it?”
“Against,” grunted Baboca. He leaned back in his chair, burying his snout in his cup.
“For,” said Calansi.
Jahu raised her hand. “For.”
Temaya nodded. “I trust the quarantine sites to prevent contaminations from leaving Atjoh. For.”
“For,” I said, though my vote didn’t matter.
Amontchi bowed and signed off, the screen darkening. Imbe took that time to refill our glasses. Calansi and Temaya were engaged in a whispered conversation. Jahu fiddled with her scouter. The governor of Vyrelian was none too pleased, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel. I empathized with the man, knowing what it was like to be in his position. Hell, I had been. I’d outlasted everyone on the council sans Jahu and risen to my position due to my mental toughness and composure. He could do the same were he patient. His advanced age and quarrelsome nature didn’t lend hope for a similar trajectory, alas.
Afterward, we discussed at length the state of the empire. Temaya informed us that over one hundred planets from across the regions had reported cases of the plague. Billions, if not more, would be lost. Outposts would be abandoned or quarantined. A hammer blow had nearly split our empire asunder. The Corvos League would be watching. They could make a move if they wanted to. Nobody wanted to admit it, yet if they invaded, we’d hardly be able to resist. Maybe they preferred the plague to wreak enough havoc to make a war a quick affair.
Temaya and others across the empire continued to analyze Meiquano’s blood samples. They had made progress, but it was not going as we had hoped. She estimated it would take at least six more months to create a replica cure. We discussed granting additional funding to Temaya’s projects. The motion passed unanimously and without debate.
Many more would die. Nothing we could do.
The others engaged in administrative talk that didn’t concern me (unless I wanted to involve myself, which I most certainly did not). I sat back in my chair. Imbe refilled my cup. She arched her back, holding her shoulders high as she walked to the corner of the room, where she sat at a small end table. This time, she didn’t pour herself any tea. She looked, if anything, disaffected by the tedium of these affairs. The color had fled from her. Given that she had drunk alcohol at the party, I thought nothing of it.
The doors behind opened, startling Temaya (she must have assumed the Melrin gang had come). In walked Statesman Meiquano. The guards broke away, allowing him to enter alone. The young man’s face had drained of color. He looked to have aged thirty years in confinement, his weariness mixed with relief. The usual bounce in his step was gone, perhaps for good.
It would be weak of me to feel any measure of empathy for the traitor. He should have offered those names sooner. Not that it made me trust him. He took his seat (the one Imbe brought out didn’t have fancy fur cushions and gravity tethers like ours) and the council resumed. Jahu welcomed him back. Baboca eyed the lad suspiciously.
I polished off a third cup of tea before the room turned to me concerning my report on the evacuation of our homeworld. “Oh yes. Well, ahem, there isn’t much to say, I’m afraid. Effectively all who remain on Faeri have the plague. There will be no more trips planet-side until they’ve succumbed. We are continuing to settle the refugees across the moons. Roughly halfway done with that.”
“Do we have enough room?” asked Baboca.
“Plenty. Not as many made it off Faeri as we’d hoped. Less than half of the population. Neither moon will reach maximum capacity.”
“Fair enough.”
Imbe took her time serving Meiquano his tea. I noted her delay. Her movements had become sluggish. It was no doubt the alcohol. Most unprofessional. I realize we’d been celebrating earlier due to the news of the Melrins, but it was her responsibility to know her limits and not drink past them. She was getting to an age where that was no longer acceptable.
The girl refilled the cups of those who required more caffeine (Calansi and Temaya, for what it’s worth) and again did so in an idle temper. I was growing worried about her. Nevertheless, today’s actions would be a lesson to learn from and reflect upon the future. If she were sharp, this would be the last time she was seen drunk in public—that is, if she harbored any hope of becoming a district judge.
We moved to other affairs, mainly involving food surpluses and soldier numbers. Tiresome talk mostly. This day felt as if it would never end. I was ready for bed. Meiquano didn’t speak, instead quaffing four or five cups of tea. Didn’t seem to believe we’d poison him. There was no sense of urgency in how they went through the proposals (several I had to vote on, and luckily, I always went last, so I could side with the majority opinion and speed things along). Agonizing. My fingers thrummed the table. Dinner with Marella would be solace from this bureaucratic headache.
With her continuous side-glancing, I think Imbe could sense my impatience.
“One more thing before we pack up for the night,” Baboca said, clearing his throat. Ever were his eyes upon Meiquano. “About the Melrin bastards.”
“What happened to those whom I gave up?” asked the young man.
“They’re dead. Maquin confirmed they were definitely gang members. You weren’t lying. That’s why you’re back on the council.”
“We didn’t vote on that,” Baboca noted.
“We didn’t have to. Meiquano never, at any point, relinquished his seat. Temaya replaced him because of his exposure to Bahkaar’s Plague. He was duly elected and will retain his position now that he’s well again.”
“And how’d you manage that?” the governor asked. “Tell us how you were cured, boy.”
“No idea. The Order didn’t tell me what they gave me. I don’t know why they did what they did.”
“Think I was born yesterday, that I’ll eat that shit up? Bah, hardly!”
“Governor, show respect to your fellow councilman.” My tone remained soft. “Treat him with the dignity he deserves if you wish to maintain your position.”
With a curt nod, he returned to his seat.
Meiquano continued, feigning no outrage, “When you captured me, you captured some of them, didn’t you?”
“We may have,” Jahu said.
“Has anyone spoken? I know they had their fair share of doctors. Surely someone knows something.”
“Someone always talks. So far, however, the Melrins have proven to be a tight-lipped bunch.”
“I would like to see their faces to make sure you have the right guys.”
“We know who we have,” I replied. “Our intel’s accuracy is unquestionable. We found you. Your services will not be required regarding the Melrins going forward.”
His eyes shifted from side to side. Unusual reaction. Nobody noticed or cared. “Right then. Very well. You’ll have to torture them for more information. Close your hearts. I’m unsure if the underbosses know much about that sort of stuff. The guys who gave me the medicine were lieutenants who worked directly for the ‘big man”, whoever that is.”
“What other names are you withholding from us?” asked Jahu.
“What I had was what I gave you before. I’ve held nothing back.”
She continued, “You must have an idea of their leadership structure and how many remain. Any information leading to further arrests would greatly benefit you.”
“As I told you before, Admiral, I wasn’t with them. They stole me away from the hospital, forced me to drink an unknown substance, then sent me to Thinderhal to recover. Your soldiers showed up not long after. I didn’t interact with the high-ranking men. I grew friendly with my guard because we played sniraak together, but that was about it. I’m in the dark about how their gang operates. They told me only what they wanted me to know. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions.”
“Then why—”
I raised my hand. She was growing too bold. She’d blow our cover. “Jahu, please. You’ve interrogated him for weeks already. He provided us with those names. Let it go.”
She bit her tongue, glaring and leaning back in her chair, ultimately complying.
“Their supplies are dwindling, their numbers depleted. With slightly more pressure, it won’t be long before they fizzle out,” Governor Baboca said. “How are the spies doing?”
“We’re in contact with scores of their low-level members. Despite that, it’s becoming harder and harder to perform hits,” I lied. “The gang appears to have split their leadership across the moons. Hitting them at the same time will be a hassle and a half. Unfortunately, our spies remain unaware of the upper leadership’s identities. We’re actively looking to make new contacts.”
The door opened again. I was rising to chuck my teacup at the intruder when I spotted the diminutive form of Emperor Icer. Everyone jumped from their seats, flinging themselves to their knees. I wasn’t far behind. Even Imbe joined us.
“Rise, loyal Faereth.” His eyes scanned the room, settling on Meiquano. I knew he knew, and my blood ran cold. Of all those who could have come through that door, he was the last I’d expected. “Apologies for the brief interruption, but Lychin, could you please come with me?”
I had no idea why he’d come. Was it because of Meiquano? He could burn me for that small act of implied disobedience. While I had worked with Icer extensively, it was common knowledge members of the royal family were unpredictable, capable of murdering their servants on a whim or a fancy. Whether it was warranted or not didn’t matter. I could be accused of something I hadn’t done and that wouldn’t make a difference.
Left half a cup of tea behind. Likely a mistake—it’d be stone cold by the time I returned. I hoped Imbe would anticipate my needs. The hallway was deserted. Icer must have dismissed the guards. His tail slapped the carpet now and then.
“My lord?” I asked, bowing again before approaching (in retrospect, that was laying it on a bit heavy). “What do you require of me?”
He studied me with that impenetrable gaze of his. Several moments after it had become awkward, he said, “Were my eyes deceiving me, or were there six Faereth in there, not counting the servant girl? I believe I was absolutely clear before. The council is to have five seats.”
“We believed Meiquano dead and filled his seat during his absence. It turns out he’s alive. Shall I remove him, my lord?”
“Is he the one who caught the plague?”
“The very same.”
“What’s he doing in there?”
“Director-General Temaya messaged you about this. We’re reverse-engineering a cure from his blood samples. Evidently, Members of the Order of Melrin gave it to him. He purports not to know why they did that or why they chose to save him. Jahu and I weren’t convinced by that child’s tale. We’re going to lure him into a false sense of security to capture the gang’s leaders.”
“I’m not familiar with this Order of Melrin. Are they a threat?”
“Nothing we can’t handle ourselves, sire.”
He took a deep breath. “Very well. Your judgment has been excellent in managing the outbreak, Lychin. You were the right man to lead your people through this plight, and you are the right man to lead that council. I’ll trust your scheme for now, but when the next person dies or resigns—and let me be very clear about this—do not replace their seat.”
“As you command.”
“Besides the Melrin squabble, is everything alright here? No crises or dramas?”
“For the most part, no. We’re holding on. Faeri’s been evacuated entirely. Well, those who could be saved have been. The infected haven’t entirely died out planet-side. They’ll be gone by the end of the month. Afterward, we’ll begin a mass-scale cleansing of the planet.”
“You’ve done well to keep the plague off the moons. See that that continues.”
“Admittedly, not my doing. The governors and the medical personnel are to thank for that.”
“Be that as it may, you are their leader. You delegate well. In any case, bring the meeting to a close as quickly as possible. Jahu and I have a flight to catch.”
“Yes, sir. It was running long anyway. I’ll get right on it. Good seeing you.”
I bowed stiffly and walked off. Before I opened the door, Icer called out, “Keep a sharp eye on Bael’s daughter. She’s not as skilled at concealing her emotions as she believes herself to be.”
The point was well-taken. Maybe that was to be expected of a drunken girl. I returned to the council chambers (if they could be called that) and relayed the emperor’s message to Jahu. Taking my seat, my mind on Imbe, I stuck a finger into the teacup—ice-cold.
She hadn’t bothered to replace it. To be fair, she didn’t know when I would be back. At the same time, she hadn’t come over when I had sat down. I had to whistle for her, and even then, she took fifteen seconds to respond. Icer’s words echoed in my ears until they blurred into one general emotion. Her behavior was growing from unacceptable to disrespectful. I don’t think I made a mistake in sparing her and her family, but she would be disciplined for her performance today. I was embarrassed the emperor had noticed. Couldn’t let that slide.
She poured me a fresh cup while Baboca brought me up to speed on the discussions I had missed. I tried to scan her for deceit as Icer had—looking her up and down, you could say— and as she finished, she pulled back, noticing. Normally, I would not have taken it this far, but my blood was running hot. Sipping my drink, I continued visually undressing her, not caring she had become uncomfortable. Was I not her superior? It wasn’t her place to question me nor to act insubordinate. She was making a fool of herself.
There would be compensation for her actions today. I had the perfect idea of what she could do to make things right.
This had been one of the longer days of my life. By the time I returned home (if you could call a hotel room that) after the conclusion of the council meeting and the emperor and Jahu’s departure, I felt the inevitable embrace of sleep coming on hard. Wouldn’t be long now. Weariness from the talking, politics, threats, and drama enwrapped me like a blanket. Not to mention my steward’s questionable actions. In the morning, I’d teach her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget. She was no doubt currently passed out in her room.
Made myself a snack before winding down. I hadn’t hopped into bed more than thirty seconds before my scouter buzzed. I’m sure anyone would understand how I felt at that moment. At my age, especially, this was rough.
“We have one,” Maquin said. “A prisoner willing to talk. Says he’s a high-ranking officer. He swears he can establish a line of contact with the upper-level bosses.”
“What’s changed? Why does he want to talk now?”
“He’s thirsty.”
“Thirsty?”
“Yes.”
“Out with it, Maquin. I’m too exhausted for games.”
“He’s an alcoholic, you see. Wants his wine in exchange for setting up the contact line.”
“Then give him his wine. And come next week, when his compensatory bottle has long since dried, he’ll come crawling back with more information.”
“That’s what we’re thinking.”
“Alright. It’s on you to confirm the authenticity of his statements. Pursue this, Maquin. I’ll see you at your place in the morning.”
We said our goodbyes, I finished my plate of food (why I had chosen Bhourven wings in a thick sauce, I cannot retroactively explain—drinking always made me too hungry for my own good), cleaned up, and lay down. I must have fallen asleep within two minutes. Imbe dominated my thoughts as I drifted off, and I could feel my heart beating faster before I faded away.
Chapter XIII: Farthest Outpost[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Prabble |
| Position: | Corporal in Kuriza's Empire |
| Date of account: | December 30, Age 769 (first and second scenes) December 31, Age 769 - July 5, Age 770 (third scene) July 5, Age 770 (fourth scene) |
Shipments came in twice a month—five transports at the end of the second week, three at the end of the fourth. Always the same cargo, always the same time. At month’s end, Proscutt and I found ourselves on guard duty again. Planet Cooler 403 maintained a modest garrison of one hundred soldiers (ninety or so currently living). A moderately-sized pirate crew could take us out. Everyone knew it. Governor had been requesting reinforcements for years, but with the royal family’s civil war, incessant pirate incursions, and a plague sweeping through the universe, his request had gone unnoticed. Perhaps they lacked the numbers to reinforce us. Perhaps they didn’t care. Either option chilled me to the bone.
Quiet days were good days. Shipment days were better. Proscutt’s friend, Picheku, knew one of the delivery pilots, a Jolean kooli dealer. The two or three guards were nothing to worry about. They didn’t and wouldn’t know. We had to be swift, for Commander Gozzi would be down to inspect the goods five to ten minutes after landing. His laziness was our window. Always. Only in times like this did I feel any semblance of emotion. Not since I had been stranded on Planet Cooler 421 during its planet-clearing (I’ve detailed this encounter in a previous chapter if Sapras indeed chose it to be featured) had I felt so potent a surge of adrenaline. It’d been years since I’d had any kooli. The stuff eased my pain. Injuries to my knee and forearms had persisted ever since that mission (being one of the primary reasons I had been reassigned to guard duty). Kooli eased my torment, if for a little while.
Were we caught, I’d have no regrets. I didn’t care about this world, the station commander, the empire—in a just universe, they would already be stardust. We were little better than the slaves we conquered, and it wasn’t like I could leave.
Governor Ditali could fuck off with pleasure. The micromanaging, authoritarian rot seeping through the empire has permeated even its farthest outposts. Banning kooli was purposeless, merely the governor’s fancy. He must have thought we bought into imperial dogma. We were grown men. If we wanted kooli, we’d have it. No guilt here, boss.
My job was to press a big blue button to shutter the automated doors. Real taxing work. Proscutt was already at the door, talking with the gangly Pikechu. The man’s cheeks were bony, and he looked half a skeleton. Their interaction took fewer than thirty seconds (I counted). Suspicions hadn’t been raised. Proscutt played it smoothly.
The acrid stench of fuel filled the air. We didn’t speak again until after our shift. I’m not going to lie, my heart was nearly beating out of my chest. I watched the clock the whole time. Anticipation hurt, but there was no avoiding it.
I’d never felt better punching out. Picheku led us to a spot five kilometers or so beyond the outpost among the larzune fields. Been there before. Being away from prying eyes was so, so good. We smoked a week’s worth of kooli that evening. Nobody could hold back. It’d been too long. We had a proper go at it, emptying the cartridge.
“Ever think one of those times the legions fight off pirates somewhere, an errant blast wouldn’t sail into space and destroy the planet without anybody having a clue?”
Proscutt waved him off. “That’s paranoid talk. It’d fizzle out long before reaching us.”
“I’m not so sure. Depending on the power level—”
“It comes down to chance,” I interrupted. “Most likely, the system’s star will pull any ki towards it, or at least warp its trajectory. Should save us from most of the bullshit. There can’t be too many candidates out there regardless.”
Each puff of kooli made my brain feel as if it were being massaged by invisible, divine hands, pleasuring me deeply, in no way physical sensation could, and I forgot for a while I was crippled.
“This is the good shit right here,” Pikechu exhaled. “Fuck, I’m so high.”
An armored ape—Sobren yellow—poked his head over the larzune stalks, a stupid grin fixed upon his face. “Found the little shits. Governor, over here.”
I remember how my throat had burned in that moment, how I had tried to stifle a cough unsuccessfully as Ditali stumbled out of the larzune, his mud-crusted cape an unfortunate companion to his supposed regal presentation. The color drained from Proscutt’s face. I couldn’t hold in the cough.
Nightfall was coming, and with it came the cold. We stifled our shivers while trying to pretend we weren’t high. Governor didn’t buy it. Was worth a try.
“Completely unacceptable,” the Jolea barked. “Bringing this filth to my outpost? I should have you hanged for this. It could have been tainted by that Bahkaar shit, and then the outpost would have been contaminated, and all of us would be dead because of your carelessness. What were you thinking?”
“Sir, there wasn’t anything in there except Nil.”
“Oho, you think I was born yesterday, do you? I’m not as dumb as you think. You were out here smoking kooli. We can smell it.”
“That’s exhaust from the refueling station, boss,” Proscutt said.
“Enough. Enough! I’m tired of your lies. We knew where you’d be. More than one person has complained. This is the end. Relinquish your armor and scouters. For the foreseeable future, you will work in the farmlands, aiding the machines.”
I was none too pleased, as you’d imagine, and too high to argue. “Sir, we aren’t trained for that kind of work.”
“Commander Gozzi will bring you up to speed. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind. You’re lucky to be alive. In these lean times, my orders were to keep executions to a minimum. Our garrison is small, but you three won’t be missed, I’ll tell you, if you get caught smoking kooli again.”
Words to inspire confidence. What a leader. I spent the next six months praying for a mutiny.
Governor placed us in Lot #06, forty kilometers north of the base. Out there, we oversaw a team of harvesting bots, helping them whenever they got themselves stuck in the mud (more than half were outdated models, meant to have been retired years ago) and collecting the larzune from their carriers. It was grim work.
Picheku had hidden a vial before Ditali had gotten to us, and for that, I rated him. Naturally, we retrieved it, smoking our minds out the first night on the farms. We didn’t care if we were caught. Slave labor is no life.
Commander Gozzi was a real bastard. He worked us hard. Never tolerated excuses or slacking off. We never complained. Bitch moves get you treated like a bitch. Probably Ditali’s doing. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. It went on like this, as you could imagine, for months. No end in sight. I must stress this went on for months. A man can only take so much.
Then, the plague came to 403. The refueling station was hit first. From there, it spread into the barracks, and before long, two-thirds of the outpost had been infected. While I can’t say I fancied laboring in the fields, it sure worked out beautifully for us compared to the remainder of the garrison.
One morning, Gozzi was going at us. He was a bird-like alien with a curled beak and brown feathers. “I still say it was you lot. I know it in my bones. Told the governor as much. He would’ve come down here to execute you himself. He would’ve.”
“Too busy polishing his armor? We aren’t going anywhere,” Proscutt said. He liked to agitate the commander. Why, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t find these engagements particularly meaningful.
“He’s got the goop. Bahkaar’s plague.”
It took effort to hide my elation. We worked till sundown that day, and I’ll tell you, I didn’t feel the burn.
Once you start showing signs of the plague, you’ve got three weeks. I’ve seen a few hardy souls last longer, but it’s not often. Governor Ditali was going to die. That much was certain. So was almost the entire outpost’s population. The infection had spread to the officers’ quarters. Lot #06 was one of the few places yet unblemished. Even so, we wore space suits at all times. Gozzi never let up. We heard whispers about new Bahkaar strains, more contagious and less potent, spreading through the empire. I found the notion impossibly recklessly hopeful. Dying men often have little to cling to save for hope—I would know, having been stranded on an empty planet without comms or supplies.
I can’t forget the night Proscutt proposed we attempt our escape. At first, it felt like a ridiculous notion. Beyond Gozzi, there were dozens of guards with power levels above my own. Yes, most had fallen sick, but any who remained would kill us the second we ran for the shipyards. Picheku was down with Proscutt’s ideas, which I found unsavory. Those two never disagreed about anything. I hardly had a say in the matter. Wasn’t my idea. I was strictly opposed to it.
Our bunks were old and grimy. Most meals consisted wholly of cooked larzune. We alone manned Lot #06. I assume the other thirty-five were manned. Equally as likely the plague had gotten them. Maybe we were the last uninfected, though I knew it would be unreasonable to stake our lives on that slim chance. If Gozzi had bugged the place, we were dead. Proscutt was always careless. I was beginning to lose respect for him. Our hushed conversations carried across the dormitory, and I believe if Gozzi had been listening at the door, he would have heard at least eighty percent of what we spoke of that night.
The morning’s skies were crimson. Two days ago, Governor Ditali had succumbed to the plague. I savored the image of larzune stalks blowing in the wind, their uniformity and resilience comforting. Not much else to look at, anyway. We donned our suits and went to work. Proscutt was the one responsible. I had nothing to do with it, as I’ve written before. This was entirely on him.
Gozzi was one rude, arrogant asshole. With Ditali’s passing, he had become fiercer than usual.
“I’ll be ruling this outpost soon enough, and when that happens, I’m shooting you disloyal fuckers into space without your suits.”
“We didn’t bring the plague here. It would’ve spread months ago if that were true. You know that,” Proscutt replied, as he often would.
Gozzi slapped him with the energy rod, a well-practiced routine. “Don’t deny it, scum. We know what you did. You’ll pay for this.”
“If you’re going to accuse me, present some evidence.”
Again, he went down to the energy rod. “I’ve about lost my patience. That lip will get you strung from your entrails, believe me.”
“Sir… what’s that?” asked Picheku. He was a better actor than Proscutt, although anyone with half a brain would have noticed what was happening.
The commander looked down at the tear in his suit. Swearing, he went to cover it up. Looking at us, he nervously backed up. “It tore moments ago. I’m fine.”
“That looks like it’s been there for a while, sir. You better get that checked out.”
He swore loudly. “Don’t say—”
While we lacked scouters, the outpost retained a communication channel with the base for moments like this. “We have a containment breach in sector six. Confirmed. Torn suit. Unknown duration.”
A glowing blue energy orb materialized before Gozzi’s glove. “Y-you bastard. You sniveling little space-badger, I’ll have your head!” In the distance, a pair of soldiers flew down the road, their urgency cracking like whips against the air. Gozzi extinguished his blast. “Return to your room. I’ll be back shortly.”
He quivered with rage as they took him away. The sun sunk beneath the horizon while harvester bots found new ways to get stuck in the mud. It was a warm day. Nice to have him off our backs. We watched soaring dewan rays in the distance, and as the wind picked up and the sunlight receded, we returned indoors to await our fate. It wasn’t like he could pin anything on us, so we felt safe enough. With how under-staffed the outpost was, he couldn’t afford to kill anyone. Had he tried, he’d get the chopping block.
We reached the seven-week anniversary without seeing him again. Nobody came for us. With all these deaths, I’d be governor soon. Everyone who had been infected in the first go around and the scare two weeks later was surely dead. We didn’t know the exact numbers. Conservatively speaking, had to be nearly everyone.
For two days, we relaxed, over-ate, played card games, and gambled, shirking our duties. It didn’t take long for Picheku to accumulate most of our woolongs. Nice time, that. Almost like a vacation. Often, I stood at the door, watching the sky, waiting, bracing myself for that which never came. Nothing moved. Shipments weren’t coming in anymore. Hadn’t been for the past three or four months. Even considering Larzune was a staple crop, we couldn’t take living off the stuff for much longer. Something had to give. Our food reserves hadn’t run out, but we were getting low. We’d have to work the fields again soon (as if that would ever happen).
Three days after Gozzi’s disappearance, I caved. Couldn’t sleep at night. We had to know his fate. Nothing treasonous about that. Just wanted to see what was up. Nobody from base responded to our messages. We didn’t have scouters, so we couldn’t be sure any of them were alive. Nonetheless, we had to check it out.
We donned our suits and set off for the outpost.
Derelict and ajar, the main gate suggested an ill omen. Our voices echoed down the road. Not a soldier in sight. We stuck together. Proscutt called out for anyone to respond. No answers. An eerie quiet had overtaken the outpost. The jungle had crept in; nobody had maintained the base for what looked like weeks. We took our chance in the cafeteria.
The lights were off, the roof half caved in. The place was an absolute mess. Where were the jannies? We moved deeper inside, Proscutt leading the way. Not having our scouters really sucked. Again, it was quiet—the sort of silence one would not expect. I’d never seen the cafeteria empty before. Between meals, you could always find soldiers hanging out in the mess hall, wasting time. From the corridors ahead, darkness greeted us. Felt like the outpost had been abandoned.
We found no signs of life in the dorms, though the beds had not been made. I wondered if the infected had been dragged kicking and screaming to their body bags. Wordlessly, we moved through the outpost. The training grounds were empty, as was the lounge outside. Dust coated everything. Otherwise, there weren’t many signs of a calamity having befallen this place.
I didn’t like it. I wasn’t spooked, truly, but something wasn’t sitting well with me. Asked Proscutt if we could leave, if we could check the shipyards. He agreed, only after investigating the bathrooms. If he wanted to have fun, fine by me. I didn’t need to see any corpses today. Picheku went with him, which put me more on edge. I’d have killed for a scouter.
They took their time not finding anything (I’d always suspected they were suck buddies, and that detour did little to dissuade the notion) before returning. Never had the station felt so empty. We decided to make our way to the shipyards.
For some reason, Gozzi was stuck in my mind. I could almost feel his energy rod sizzling my skin, could almost see his beak split open in a wry smile as he berated my work ethic. My body recoiled involuntarily. It takes, on average, two weeks for symptoms of Bahkaar’s plague to appear. Four days hadn’t passed since they’d taken him away. He couldn’t be showing signs of infection even if he had the goop, or they would have come for us. Why hadn’t he been released? Had they accidentally contaminated him?
My mind swirled with questions as we reached the hangar bay. Gravel crunched underneath our boots, doing all the talking.
Breaking the lock, Picheku wrested the hulking metal door (taller than ten Pichekus and three times as wide) from its track. We sprinted in, eager to get off that rock. If anyone had been watching us, our treason was indefensible. I’ll admit it. They were dead, or so it seemed. What did it matter? We couldn’t stick around and join them. We wouldn’t. Not a man among us was a coward.
It was hardest for me at that moment; letting go came easier afterward. Twisted, burnt metal and exposed parts lay before us. Like a sooty cloud, an odor of raw oil permeated the room. A great fire had ravaged through here some time ago. That too had long since gone out. Not a space pod in there was fit for flying.
This was the singular shipyard on the planet’s lone outpost.
Picheku seemed to be in the midst of a panic attack, his breathing coming fast and shallow. “Oh shit man, shit shit shit. We’re screwed. We’re absolutely screwed. This is the end. It’s over.”
His friend rebuked him. “Quiet. Don’t give up on me now. Make sure first.”
We flew around and made sure.
“Hey, look at this,” said Proscutt, landing in front of a pile of rubble. He kicked at the limp, bloated green body of a Sobren soldier as we touched down. “Poor bastard.”
“Maybe he had it lucky compared to us.”
“Always so negative, aren’t we, Prabble?” he replied in a mocking tone. “Look. We’re not finished yet. See? There’s always a way out.”
He leaned over, plucking a scouter from the corpse. Miraculously, it had remained undamaged. How, I couldn’t tell you. Those things are as brittle as they look. A broad grin painted his face. I didn’t see what the big deal was. The ships were destroyed. There were no other pods. Calling for help seemed as useful as praying. Who would come save a colony ravaged by Bahkaar’s plague? Containment protocol was unambiguous. We would die here one way or another.
The kooli dealer held his tongue. His mood hadn’t settled. I joined him by the door. The wind whipped through the sky, howling down the outpost’s barren roads. This wasn’t the most prestigious imperial city, nor was it the coziest, but it was home, and we could live with that. For a moment, we stood there, locked in sorrow, remembering what this place had once been. Words failed us. I can’t say whether or not he knew at that point, or if he still maintained a (foolish) flicker of hope. His earlier theatrics inclined me to believe he did. I don’t know. It’s not right to judge a person in a situation like that. How can you?
Proscutt turned the scouter on. “Fourteen readings, boyos. We’re not alone.”
In his exhilaration, he misjudged the folly of his statement. Merely two months ago, this world had been home to about eighty members of the Planet Trade Organization. Such was the consuming power of Bahkaar’s plague.
“Where’re they at? Hey, Cheku, stay with me now. Where exactly are they?”
“Most are out there,” he said, scanning the gate leading to the farmlands. “However, there’s a group of five over there,” he said, motioning to the officer’s tower to the south. “Should we check on them first?”
I nodded. “They’ll know what’s going down. We need answers. Someone has to be contacted to come pick us up.”
Picheku laughed. “We don’t have the disease. We’re clean. What’s the worry?”
“They’ll have to pick us up,” I repeated.
Proscutt held his tongue on the walk over. We could have flown, I guess, but we preferred to keep quiet. Didn’t feel right. Dread pressed upon my shoulders. Had everyone else died? I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t. Resigned to my fate though I was, I would not give so readily into despair. Men I had worked with for years vanished in an instant? No. They must have been taken off-planet. We needed to get in contact with leadership. They could get us off this rock.
“Hey Picheku.”
“Yeah, Pros?”
“I have to take a mean Gozzi.”
They giggled together like schoolchildren. Weird how he hadn’t gone before (not really).
“Quiet,” I whispered. “We’re not supposed to be here.”
“Ah, it’s fucked,” Proscutt replied. “There’s only five of them, man. Something catastrophic happened. Don’t play dumb.”
“Yeah, the plague.”
“We have to get out of here. It’s all going to shit,” said Picheku. “Seriously. I don’t want to get caught up in whatever’s comin’ to the infected.”
“Don’t worry, man, we will. Just gotta believe. We’ll find a way. We’re not infected. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Hope was paramount. There would be no point going onwards, otherwise. We had heard the stories before: the plague hits an outpost, and three months later, it’s completely devoid of life. Emperor Kuriza had been going around burning down planet after planet. Were that to keep up, his empire would be reduced to little more than stardust and ash.
It hadn’t gotten us. It hadn’t been because of us. Sometimes, life deals you a shitty hand. We weren’t about to let our misfortunes overwhelm us. To his credit, Proscutt remained in high spirits. Became infectious, I’ll not lie. We hadn’t exhausted our options. It wasn’t necessary for Kuriza to come here. There were plenty of us left who were clean. If we could get that message out, we would be okay.
My visor was fogging up. I had to settle down. I couldn’t let them see my weakness.
Proscutt threw open the doors. The reek of sickness greeted our nostrils. Death was old here, the smell containing an undeniably ripe, decaying quality. No bodies, at least. Black stains colored the floor and walls—signs of the plague, to be sure. I averted my eyes lest my lunch bubble up my throat. Was nearly enough to put me over.
The bookshelf snaking into the great hall was badly damaged. Chunks of wood had been ripped out, and portions of the walls had collapsed, spilling books this way and that. Some lay in moist pools of black tar. The carpet was scuffed and shredded, splinters everywhere. The statue of Frieza that had once prominently featured in the entryway had been cracked, its head half-sunk in a scum-coated, inoperable fountain.
Four of the five survivors had squeezed into a tiny room two doors down the left, wearing space suits. Three were leaning over the fourth, who was squirming on a desk. Energy beams illuminated their struggles. While two men held him down, another zapped the screaming, wriggling patient with ki blasts.
“Sir, please, the garrison remains mostly intact…”
Commander Gozzi’s voice drifted down the hallway. Our attention drawn, we crept around the corner towards the door leading into the governor’s office (located in the center of the building). Therein, Gozzi stood, pale and sweating, and very much alive. He wore a new, tear-free suit and was on a video call with Commander Lingon, one of Kuriza’s most trusted officers.
“Has the infection spread to the farms?”
“Yes it has, but listen, only in the past few days. If we can quarantine them into separate houses to track how far it’s spread, I’m sure we’d find most were unaffected. I can stop this before it overwhelms the outpost.”
“How many soldiers do you have on hand?”
“A small detachment, sir.”
“How many, Gozzi? Give me a number.”
“Three.”
“Three? Out of a garrison of over one hundred? You’re lying to me about the severity of your situation.”
“The outbreak hit the soldiers hardest, sir. Dozens of farm workers remain alive and—”
“And now contaminated.”
“No, sir. The harvesting houses are isolated from one another. The chance of cross-contamination is infinitesimal.”
“I’m sorry, Gozzi. I can’t do it. The risk remains too great.”
He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Wait! Set up a screening station. Nobody leaves unless we’re one hundred percent sure they’re clean. There are good men here—able-bodied and uninfected. You can’t leave us to die.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Commander. It’s not worth the risk or the resources.”
“Sir, I have uninfected here. I’m uninfected! How could you doom loyal soldiers to this fate?”
“It’s not worth the risk. I’m sorry. Know that you died for the glory of your empire. Lord Kuriza thanks you for your service.”
“Sir, please, if there’s just o—”
The call cut out abruptly. My heart was beating in my ears. Like a broken man, Gozzi fell forward, his hands supporting himself on the desk. “This is what I get for years of leal service? What good has the empire ever done me?”
Struggling to his feet, his shoulders slumped, he wandered out the door, not so much as acknowledging our presence as he staggered past. He pounded on the window where the others were, and their light show came to an end.
“It’s over. The emperor’s coming.”
They had given up on the corpse on the table. Smoke rose from the body. The screaming man had finally finished his song. I grew jealous of him. Waiting is the worst part.
“What? It cannot be,” a guard cried. “Commander, isn’t there something more you could have said? We’re clean. They have to know. We don’t deserve this.”
“There should have been. Alas, Lingon’s mind is set. I could not sway him.”
The commander wandered outside. Stunned and broken, the six of us followed him like a solemn funeral procession. Along the central dirt road, Gozzi had fallen to his knees, his head bowed. A chill was coming on. We watched him without speaking. I felt I should have, though as I noted earlier, I had become numb. The shipyard had dashed my hopes.
“There’s a vial of kooli buried eighty kilometers that way,” Picheku said, pointing south, where the sun was setting. “What do you guys say? One last smoke before we reach the afterlife?”
“What afterlife? It’s all a big nothing,” Gozzi spat.
I noticed one of Governor Ditali’s guards was with us. Lucky bloke. How had he managed to make it this far? Had he called in sick during the governor’s exposure? Best sick day ever, right? Now he could wait for our doom high as could be. The irony was not lost on me.
“Are the long-range scouters working?” I asked.
“Yeah. Outpost’s still fully operational.”
“Hey, Picheku,” I said, whistling. “Wait until the emperor arrives.”
Down the road, Proscutt walked. His head had drooped, causing him to wander aimlessly as a headless dewan ray. I speculated it had been worse for him than us in the way that snow is colder if one jumps into it right after a hot shower. There was nothing to say.
“I’ll get the pipe,” I said. Who knew when Kuriza would be here? It could be an hour or a week. The agony of not knowing gnawed at my brain. Waiting for something so terrible tortured our minds.
“I’ll come with,” said the governor’s Sobren bodyguard.
Company was everything now. Remaining there another moment would be intolerable. As much as I despised Gozzi, I couldn’t bear to see him like that. When one’s leader gives up, hope is lost. There was nothing more to be done. Despondency should not be our final emotion.
“You ever tried the stuff?”
“A time or two at the citadel. Those were the days,” said Ditali’s bodyguard.
Should have spoken up. His hypocrisy almost made me come to fists with the man, and I’m not the fighting type. Should have at least made a passive-aggressive comment. I was in no mood (regretfully). A light flashed through the courtyard, and Proscutt’s headless body fell with a thud. He’d taken the easy way out. Maybe it wasn’t so easy. I couldn’t do it. Don’t have it in me. Gozzi didn’t move. We paused for a few seconds, everyone waiting for someone else to say something before flying off.
It won’t be long now. We were never infected. Fuck Lingon, fuck Kuriza, and fuck the empire.
Chapter XIV: Bael[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Bilimb |
| Position: | Guard for Governor Lychin |
| Date of account: | February 15, Age 770 (first scene) February 17, Age 770 (second scene) March 8, Age 770 (third and fourth scenes) March 18, Age 770 (fifth scene) |
There wasn’t anything to suggest that day’s wind down meeting would be beyond the usual—an hour or two of gossiping, smoking, and drinking before stumbling off to our respective rooms. Governor Lychin led these two or three times a week, depending on his availability. His steward, Bael’s daughter Imbe, as well as the guards and Governor Baboca, were present most of the time. This was no Council of Faeri. More informal, more to the point, or so I’ve been told.
We smoked Nil to our lungs’ content. The rusty afterglow of our exhalations filled the governor’s hotel room. We weren’t allowed in his inner chambers, though his quarters were extravagant, comprising multiple rooms. Pillow-dotted couches lined the wall, a fountain took up the corner, and the air smelled of fresh flowers. I’m sure the paintings on the walls were real, not reproductions. With the money he spent on this suite, it’s the least one could expect. Bael’s daughter served wine. Felt great to be out of my armor, kicking back with the boys, watching Galactrix Arena re-runs. I found my gaze returning to Lychin time and time again, a heat boiling under my skin with every glance. Being an imperial bootlicker, he reeked of elitism. He didn’t care about anyone. So long as his rank remained undisturbed, he’d go along with whatever bullshit our alien overlords forced us to adhere to. Where was his Faerin spirit? Where was his pride?
“Genipi. Genipi. Genipi,” Lychin said. He looked half-gone already. We’d hardly downed our first drinks. As guards, it wasn’t our place to question him, to act in an unprofessional manner, to appear visibly drunk, and yet he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. It was our solemn duty to take it without question. Yeah, that’s charisma. And he wonders why so many have rebelled against his government. I don’t think he actually does. Subconsciously, he must realize how terrible he is, making Imbe blow him after Marella scorned him. She’s only twenty, and he’s like seventy or whatever. Disgusting man. “Fresh intel’s given us a view into the Order’s operations. We’re going to hit them in the Baladan district on Naelan. Genipi, one of their underbosses, works from that district. We’ll hit him hard before he realizes what’s happening.”
Genipi was a good man. I’d known him since grade school. All he wanted—all we wanted—was to return our species to its rightful place, to its rightful glory, in the universe. Everything about Lychin rubbed me the wrong way. The decadent motherfucker spit upon our ancestors, disgracing the Faereth with his cavalier, groveling attitude toward our Arcosian leaders. He bowed to them for his benefit, neither for our betterment nor our long-term survival. I cannot understand how anyone could empathize with so corrupt a man. He’s no man—he’s a puppet.
“Are you like completely sure he’s a baddie?” Imbe sang in a sweet, false tone, chewing on the tip of her pinky finger. She knew as well as I did that Genipi was our superior.
“This source’s never been wrong before. Why should I doubt it? Give me one good reason.”
“It could be now. You never know. If you’re wrong, you’ve condemned an innocent man to death over hearsay.”
“Is that it? You’re acting contrarian for the sake of it. This isn’t a game. The Melrins aren’t playing, and neither am I. There is but one course of action for dealing with them. It’s the only thing they respect about my authority.”
“Really, I’m not. Just making sure.”
“Watch your tongue. The intel is clear. Genipi’s the mastermind behind the Melrins’ import shenanigans. He manages a vast network of shipment routes, pilots, and runs four ports by his own hand. Multiple contacts from Atjoh and other worlds have confirmed our suspicions. He’s the real deal. Eliminating him will critically destabilize their cause.”
“Once we gather a capable and reliable task force, Governor Arzan will greenlight the operation. We’re hitting his office in five days. Soon, we’ll silence the Melrins forevermore. Genipi’s done. Finished. Cooked,” Baboca said.
Imbe didn’t hide her horror well. I couldn’t believe it. She had to keep the game going as long as possible. That was her main priority. No debate. Were we found out, it could never be from her. The girl was young, although technically an adult. She should know better. Youth tempers are notoriously difficult to quell, to reason with—always convinced of their perspectives, fluctuating hormones guiding their irrationality. Not like I could step in and shut her up. She was liable to blow our cover if she didn’t control herself. My life being in her hands chilled me to the bone.
With a bow, the governor’s steward removed herself from the conversation, refilling their drinks, and I exhaled. The governor forced himself to swallow several times in a row, lest the bile rise up his throat. He was completely tanked.
“We’ve applied pressure placing Meiquano’s father, Kusquano, in custody. The time for goodwill has passed. The statesman has never been able to explain his time with the Melrins. We must consider him a spy. Furthermore, with the cure stemming from his blood samples now reaching late-trial production, we’ll quickly gain a handle on Bahkaar’s plague and reclaim Faeri. When we do, the Melrins will not follow us there. This is the last act in their story. Prisoners are talking; the facade is crumbling. They’re running out of steam, burning through their few remaining resources. I don’t know how they’ve lasted this long. It’s time we put them out of their misery once and for all.”
“For the empire,” Baboca concurred.
The rain on Vyrelian was artificial, having been installed along with the atmosphere more than five hundred years ago in an attempt to terraform it into a climate similar enough to Faeri. Wasn’t the same. Artificial rain burned the skin and the throat. Can’t drink it. Not safe. On my way home after my shift, amidst the foggy skyscrapers of Seirman, hardly a pedestrian in sight (not in this weather), I, against my better judgment, decided to check in on Imbe. I felt as miserable and grey as the clouds surrounding me. I was in a rare mood. There is nothing quite so hauntingly isolating as thick fog.
She was sulking in a seedy wine sink downtown. Imbe hadn’t used to drink. Now she could reliably be found in bars and taverns most nights. In a way, I couldn’t blame her. The war against Lychin and the imperialists wasn’t going well. Seemed as though the entirety of the cosmos stood against us in our quest to free our species from bondage. Hell, most of the general populace preferred the safety their chains provided them. Cretins, the lot of them. Taking a stool next to her in the dimly lit room (the faint smell of piss wafting through the air), I startled her with a tap on the shoulder.
“Hey.”
“Oh hey, Bilimb. How are you on this fine fucked up night?” she slurred.
“You’ve had a few already. Celebrating, I see.”
She scoffed cynically. “It’s all gone to shit. The whole bloody thing’s fucked up beyond repair. Like, what are we really doing? It’s futile, standing against them. We’re only prolonging the inevitable. Why continue to fight? Nobody’s with us.”
“That’s the spirit.” I ordered a drink—don’t remember what—one that wouldn’t take long to make. I needed more alcohol before trying to talk sense into her. “Seriously, what’s up? You’re more dour than usual, and that’s saying something.”
Imbe laughed a hollow laugh before swallowing a shot. She’d never acted more her age. “What’s the point? We haven’t managed to break that old fucker. And now he’s found Genipi. We’re being led by a deranged, alcoholic, traitorous bastard more in love with the Planet Trade than the sovereignty of his people. He’s selling us out. There’s like nothing we can do about it. We have to get rid of him, Bilimb. Please, we must. I don’t see a way forward unless he’s gone.”
The bartender handed over my drink. Two gulps halved its contents. I shivered. “Plans have been in motion for years. Have patience. This will not end in a whimper.”
“Oh, fuck off with your ‘plans’. That may sound good from the outside, but I have to live with him every day. When my mother wouldn’t give herself up, he turned to me. What choice did I have? None. We had to keep this charade going. I have to live this, Bilimb. That rotten bastard ravages me nightly, and I have to sit there and take it! I’m tired. So tired. I want him gone. And I want to be there when he screams his last breath. He’s going to pay for what he’s done.”
“I hear you, Imbe. Nevertheless, stay the course, or this will be for naught. We’re close. Losing Genipi is an unforeseen setback, one we cannot let overwhelm us. I believe the big man will get involved. If he doesn’t, we’ll set forth our own plan. Fuck it. Anything less, and we’re done. What else do we have to lose?”
“I’ll drink to that.”
The poor girl was at her wit’s end. Couldn’t blame her. Sooner rather than later, the conflict between our factions would come to a head. We could no longer afford to wait, to absorb blows. Actions required consequences. At a certain point, self-preservation would kick in, and then the governor would pay for his transgressions in blood. He was right about one thing—the time had come to retake our planet.
“Boss says it’s a no-go. Can’t happen. Hold fast. The timing’s not right. We’ll retaliate when we’re in a more stable position.”
Twenty or so had crammed into a hotel room in Beiveco City on Naelan. Imbe and her mother, Mahru (Bael’s second-in-command who had gone to great lengths to avoid execution after his death), Meiquano, and Governor Pulasa (hailing from Planet Cooler 029) were the most significant people I could name. The rest of us had our places, but we weren’t ranking officers in the Order. I can’t speak for everyone. I’m not in the know, as they say, only there due to my proximity to Lychin. Wasn’t as if I were making the decisions.
“Then we’re on our own,” said Marella. “What remains certain is we cannot further tolerate Lychin’s meddling. We must eliminate him. Baboca, Temaya, or anyone else they appoint to replace him should prove more malleable to our cause. His power level alone is a grave threat to our ambitions.”
“Admiral Jahu’s as well,” Mahru said. “She’s likely the most powerful Faerin in the universe. Luckily for us, she’s off-world most of the time.”
“I doubt she’s a serious player,” Pulasa added.
Imbe gave a sour look. “More like off screwing her royal boy toy. Her priorities are certainly in order.”
“Regardless, my sweet girl, Jahu’s not our priority. She doesn’t matter. Removing Lychin is imperative for our survival. If the boss won’t do it, we will. Bottom line, he has to die.”
“Agreed,” said Mahru. “By my hand and no other’s. His time has come. I’m done engaging in idle talk. Let’s do this. Let’s get him. Without the boss instructing us, we’re free to do whatever we want.”
“Are you sure this is the best course of action?” Pulasa asked. “We risk retribution if it goes badly.”
“We’ll die if he’s not taken out. Lychin is no thorn in our side. He’s a damn nightmare. We either deal with him or we’re doomed.
“I’ll drink to that,” Imbe said.
“The big man says no,” cautioned Pulasa. “We should not let emotions cloud our judgment.”
Marella rebuked him. “It matters not. Our lives are at stake. Our livelihoods. This cannot continue. Lychin is creeping too close to the truth. He’ll unmask us if we’re not careful. Silencing him will benefit our species. The boss could appreciate that, at least after the fact.”
“It won’t continue,” Mahru said. “Fuck the big man if he won’t protect us. We’re on our own. We have to do this. Who’s with me?”
A murmur rippled through the room. Palpable. Glances were exchanged. “We can’t go against him. What he says is how it’ll be. That’s it. Respect his final word,” Pulasa cautioned.
“Are you a pawn in someone else’s game, or are you a living, breathing Faerin?” Mahru rose to her feet. “Do you, any of you, care about our species? We’re an enslaved race. We have no obligation towards our captors. Playing nice exudes weakness. We must work against them no matter what. Bael understood that. Bael knew. When he executed Avalan, he exerted power over the empire. He spit in the faces of those who desecrated our culture. We must do so again. If Lychin dies, no one can replace his power. Then, we can assassinate the councilors and any additional Arcosian loyalists if we so choose. Who cares if Jahu’s untouchable? She’s politically irrelevant. He’s holding us back. He’s the dam waiting to break. We must kill him at any cost. Push through and honor our ancestors with courage and resolve.”
They were deep in their cups. Alcohol will make fools of us all. I tried to reign in their madness the best I could.
“A point well-taken. There are few officers with power levels above 10,000. His far exceeds that. He’s not been open about his level, probably for the very reason we’re discussing. We cannot fight him in open battle. Even you, commander, are no match for him in single combat,” I said. “We’ll need to approach this differently.”
“Poison’s the way,” said Marella. “We’ll procure something truly fatal. Then it will be up to you, my daughter, to slip it in the bastard’s tea. Afterwards, we’ll jump him while he’s reeling. In the meantime, attend to him as normal. You cannot raise suspicions.”
Imbe scoffed. “Mother, he’s gross. I can’t do this anymore. Seriously.”
“Stop your whining. You will do this for us and be quiet. I won’t hear another word from you.”
She looked most displeased but held her tongue.
“Once Lychin’s out of the way, Pulasa will take his seat,” Mahru continued.
“Not possible,” Imbe said. “Icer told him following the next member’s death, no one will replace them. He prefers the council to comprise five seats.”
Mahru didn’t miss a beat. “Then we’ll remove Baboca as well. His power level’s nothing compared to mine. Calansi and Temaya will remain neutral to our efforts, I’ve no doubt, leaving only Jahu, who lacks the diligence to stop us. In the meantime, we’ll lay low. Sadly, Genipi must go down. We’ll try to save as many of his pilots as possible, but if Lychin gets even the remotest of suspicions that we have people inside his inner circle, our plan’s doomed.”
“If that’s how it must be, oh well. Genipi’s a loyal man. Shame we must lose him. However, no life is worth more than our cause—not mine, not yours, not his,” said Marella.
Mahru continued, “We’ll hit Lychin on March 8. The third anniversary of Bael’s death. Marella, wait until then to poison him.”
There was some sad strange look on her and her daughter’s faces. They nodded, offering no arguments against her plan. Bael’s infidelity was common knowledge, albeit never spoken about. Not in meetings like this. How Marella felt was a mystery. I’d never probe for more info. She would know of the rumors, yet she didn’t attempt to disparage Mahru. Could be working towards a greater end or could be holding out hope that Bael never cheated. I doubt Bael was faithful. Couldn’t know, but come on—a man of his stature had every option in the world. It’d be foolish to assume he hadn’t taken them.
“Twenty more days. Twenty more days till the c*nt’s buried,” Imbe said in a low voice.
I couldn’t disagree. Imagining the look on his face after we turned on him was peak pleasure—money couldn’t buy so fine a treat. He didn’t know how many hated him, how many sought his downfall, how many yearned for his corpse to grow cold. Soon all would be revealed, and he’d learn how many wanted him dead. I’m sure it would be a shock to the system.
Anticipation clawed at my throat and tingled down my fingertips. Judgment day had come. Finagling hours with the guards took convincing (and woolongs), but, in the end, I swapped shifts with Ganbouge. Ten minutes before Lychin was to wake (he managed a consistent schedule, never deviating by more than a minute or three), I knocked on the door. A single guard was required in the immediate vicinity of his hotel room. Others remained outside as always. Imbe let me in. A welcome sight. It was good to be amongst allies, even if I hadn’t spoken with her since that night in the bar. Our age gap was another factor. I didn’t have much in common with a young, aristocratic girl. Doubt she saw me as more than a pawn in the war. Regardless, we were working towards liberating our species, a most noble endeavor, and I respected her mightily for being on the righteous side.
“I’m just about to get the tea on. Come in, Bilimb. Try not to be too loud.”
Without a word, I slipped her a finger-sized bottle of poison known to be lethal to our species. Thumarbagli would paralyze before taking full effect. Tasteless, undetectable for five hours. Mahru could have her way with him if she so desired. Timing the sequence of events properly would be key. Elseways, he’d be dead in half a day.
Shutting the door behind us, she scampered off to the tiny cooking area (if it could be called that) in the room adjacent to Lychin’s sleeping quarters. There was what looked like half a stove, a sink, and a tea maker. A modest arrangement, to say the least. While his hotel room was considerably more spacious than mine, it was nothing special, even if it was the imperial suite. We were clearly not in his permanent residence.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, buzzing around, mixing drinks while preparing Lychin’s breakfast. “You know, you’ll have to be part of the—”
“I’m good. Slept well. Feeling loose, no brain fog. Ready for a change. How about you?”
“I’m so past this, you don’t even know.”
“Keep your head up. We’re almost through it.”
“Yeah, but like, I don’t know if I can do it. He’s so gross and wrinkly. The way he kisses me, I want to throw up. I can’t take another second of this shit.”
“Whatever you do, don’t blow this, Imbe. One more morning, and you’re free of him for good. Think of it that way. Treat him to the best time ever, don’t raise suspicions, and soon, he’ll be an afterthought in the history books while we go on and change the future.”
“It’s just, I don’t know if I can ever forgive Mother. I couldn’t make my daughter go through this. I couldn’t fail her so. I wouldn’t. Mother navigated through this gracefully as a saithor cat, never having to sleep with him. Why did it fall upon me to satiate him? I’d like to know how that plan came about. Like, seriously. I won’t forget. Even when he’s gone, my memories stick, Bilimb. This isn’t a dream. Why me?”
“He wanted you.”
“He wanted her more. It’s in his eyes every time I go down on him. Glassy and looking far-off. He’s not thinking of me. Never was. I’m just a means to an end. It wears me down, you know? Terribly. Some nights, I can’t sleep. I’m not a whore by nature. I didn’t ask for this.”
“Every one of us has sacrificed to get to this point. Try to remain optimistic. Don’t alert him to what’s coming. Watch the clock. You’re six hours away from being rid of the bastard.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Can’t come fast enough.”
“Tonight, we’ll celebrate. Vintage bottles of chillrose. The finest we’ve got. Until then,” I said in an unintentionally stern tone, “I’ll see you around. He could wake at any time. I must be at my post.”
Within five minutes, Lychin lumbered out of his room, stifling a yawn, rubbing his eyes, moaning groggily, and finding his way to the bathroom. Doting on him masterfully, Imbe had his cup of tea waiting for him when the door opened again. His first sip was tepid, his second akin to a gulp, and I was already feeling more relaxed. The poison was inside, working. One way or another, it would end today.
“Finish that up and come see me,” he said, pretending I wasn’t there. “We’re leaving in twenty.”
Lychin returned to his room with the teacup that would soon be drained and would soon drain him. Breakfast wasn’t on his mind. He’d want his loins warmed. I took her point to heart. Being forced into prostitution would wear down any person with a modicum of self-respect. I couldn’t pretend I’d manage were the positions reversed, not that they ever would be. I hoped she saw the value in her sacrifice. She was a strong woman. Her father’s blood flowed through her, as did his iron resolve. It wouldn’t be long until we were free of our shackles. Lychin be damned, Icer be damned, Phase Two was now in effect.
If you’re wondering why we didn’t take him out sooner, the simple fact is that escalating the war would turn Icer’s gaze upon us. Not to say we couldn’t outlast him in the shadows, outwit him in the masses, outgain him whenever his back was turned, but the Order was in a tenuous state at best. We’d have to risk it or crumble. Temaya reverse-engineering a cure for Bahkaar’s plague from Meiquano’s blood was admittedly an unanticipated setback. It had taken her nearly three years. Now, we were on a timer. Faeri’s about to be cleansed and repopulated. Time to move. Profits had waned during the plague, security measures and kill teams squeezing the life out of our organization. After the people returned home, things would be different. Lychin wouldn’t experience that reality. The big man refused to endorse our plan. Oh well. Lives and livelihoods were on the line—everyone I had fought with and for. Actions induced consequences. We wouldn’t wait any longer.
Around noon, Lychin’s entourage (fourteen guards and eight assistants, including Imbe and myself) left our private room in the Chalaro Nin restaurant on the fifty-sixth floor of the Baloshir Tower in central Seirman. A sky bridge connected the building to another—the Palopan Tower—where we would meet up with Temaya to supervise the distribution efforts of Bahkaar’s cure.
The day was bright, growing more so as we approached the sky bridge, which consisted almost entirely of reinforced glass, presenting a surreal experience to those crossing it. The bridge’s walls were also glass. It felt like there was nowhere to hide, like a magnifying glass focused intently upon anyone passing through it. Personally, I wasn’t a fan of heights; always, that tiny tug of trepidation rose in my chest when I set foot on it, trying my best not to peer down at the bustling city below my boots. Being able to fly made this an irrational fear, something primal my ki-adept body hadn’t outgrown.
By design, Lychin wasn’t yet showing signs of poison deterioration. Thumarbagli operated on a five-hour timer before activation. We were still fifteen minutes away, give or take, from the onset of paralysis. He had moved through his morning routine roughly to our expectations, although we were running a few minutes ahead of schedule. The goal was to get past the bridge guards shortly before the poison took effect. I glanced at Imbe. She knew what to do. One final task and we’d be free.
Engaging in small talk with the guards, bubbling in exuberance, the girl held us back. I perceived the governor’s frustration while fixated upon my watch. Standing there grew awkward. The veil was slipping. Urgency was key. Clearing my throat was the code. Time ticked by. The color was noticeably draining from Lychin’s cheeks. She moved swiftly then, ending her rambling in a ditzy fashion. Not sure how much of that was intentional. Either way, it worked. We passed through the gate a minute later. A modest number of pedestrians walked among us. I remember feeling uneasy, reassuring myself that this was for the greater good.
Lychin reached for his nearest attendant, missing, his cape swirling, crashing to his hands and knees, grunting. He vomited a ruby-red rush across the floor, quivering and collapsing in the filth.
“Are you okay, sir? You’re exuding a most foul odor. Do you require assistance?” Imbe asked, leaning over him, wrinkling her nose.
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.
“Now!” I shouted.
From the far side of the bridge, Mahru, Marella, Meiquano, and a host of thirty of our finest soldiers came into view. A sneer painted Marella’s face. They formed a circle around Lychin and his retinue. Four of the governor’s guards joined me in adding to that perimeter. Imbe and her friends ran to her mother. The rest remained with him, tightening their formation while he further spilled his guts. Doubt and alarm radiated from his entourage.
“Who are you? Step away from the governor,” one of them said.
“Governor, what’s wrong? You alright? Give us space, please,” said Ganbouge. He flashed me a dirty look. Fuck that sycophant.
Mahru snorted, breaking formation. “Shut your mouth, soldier. Traitor to our people, more like it. You don’t appreciate the position we’ve put you in. None of you are getting out of this alive.”
“Want to bet? We’re the governor’s best men, assassin. Nobody will touch him, I promise you. You haven’t a clue who you’re messing with.”
Ganbouge threw a punch at Mahru. She didn’t need to move to catch his wrist, twist it, spin him in the air, and elbow him to the ground. He didn’t get back up. Six more rushed her, swearing and swinging fists. She quelled them with an explosive wave. The sky bridge cracked, pedestrians shrieking and fleeing in every direction. The reek of burning flesh lingered in the air.
“Deal with them. There will be no witnesses for what’s to follow,” Mahru commanded.
We didn’t need to be told twice. The air buzzed with whizzing energy in greens and blues. Seconds later, it grew quiet. The ash of their corpses blew away from the force of our blasts. Lychin moaned like a dying animal, attempting to rise to his feet, failing, and vomiting again. Our fury turned against the remainder of his retinue—men and women I had known for years, who hadn’t suspected a thing, for whom I felt no remorse expunging from reality. Their screams faded in the wind. We were better off without them.
Commander Mahru approached the dying man, her arms crossed, pursing her lips, peering down at him as if he were little more than a pile of seival shit splattered on the sidewalk. “Look what we have here: a feeble shell of a man who’s long outstayed his welcome. The universe is cruel for letting someone as pathetic as you live while taking Bael from us. At least we won’t have to put up with you for much longer. Suffer for your sins, vermin.”
“Captain Mahru?” he said, struggling to look up, wiping his mouth with a stained glove. “I thought you were dead…like Bael’s other officers.”
“They never found me. I knew where to run. And now the pendulum swings back.”
“Did you enjoy your tea this morning, my lord? Did I make it sweet to your liking?” Imbe sang in a sarcastic tone.
He didn’t respond, groaning and breathing hard.
“Do you know what today is, Lychin?” Mahru asked.
“What does that matter?” His voice was thin and quivering.
Color filled her cheeks. “Three years to the day since you took my everything from me. Three years. Three years without hope, without love, without Bael. Fool! Do you think the past washes away? Now you’ll learn the meaning of vengeance.”
I glanced at Marella. Her face had gone dark, her jaw tightly wound, staring at Mahru. Their alliance was a feeble thing. To speak so brazenly about Bael’s infidelity in front of his widow was a choice, I suppose. Not one I’d make.
“Daft bitch, I didn’t kill him. I was imprisoned when it happened. Didn’t hear of his death until days later. It wasn’t me. You’ve let your emotions cloud your judgment by taking your sorrow out on the wrong man. Find Paprikan, wherever the Makyan’s fled to. If anyone murdered Bael, it was him. You’re like a child—misguided, seeped in emotion, convinced of your folly. It’s no wonder you’ve found a home with the Melrin scum.”
I’ll never forget how his voice rose. Before, he had been at death’s door. A rich purple aura coated his body as he found his feet. His expression mirrored Mahru’s. The air boiled with ki. She wasn’t afraid. Energy flared around her as she moved to challenge him. For years, she’d craved ending the life of her lover’s killer. I couldn’t wait to see Lychin get what he deserved. This was long coming. For those who say revenge is a dish best served cold, know that we laugh at weak mindsets and push on no matter what.
She threw a left diving punch at Lychin, and for a moment, we believed this to be the beginning of the end. He caught it, shattering our resolve. Mahru flinched, attempting a right haymaker, but the governor blocked it with barely any trouble. She kicked at him. He dove away, displaying agility a poison-addled man shouldn’t be able to.
“I commend you, Captain. Moving from one traitorous group to another. Your consistency’s admirable.”
He kicked her against the glass wall, cracking it. Enraged, Mahru recovered perhaps too quickly for her stamina’s sake, jumping up and slugging energy beam after energy beam at Lychin, who blocked and deflected the attacks. Glass split and shot through the air, the wind sucking in, blowing about; our soldiers pulled back, coalescing around Marella, Imbe and the other non-combatants. The bridge fractured, leaving two halves separated by a six-meter gap. Mahru and Lychin hovered between.
“Did you think by poisoning me, you’d have a chance? I’m afraid, Captain—”
“Commander.”
“Rat would be more befitting. Why so desperate, Melrin? Rethinking your strategy? Maybe a part of you realizes you have no chance and is screaming to run. You won’t get away.” He coughed, covering his mouth, his shoulders slumping. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Lychin was succumbing to the poison. Admirable show. I’ll give him credit where it’s due. None of us thought he’d be able to endure the pain consuming his body. To this day, I don’t understand it.
“Shut up! Time for you to die!”
Mahru threw herself at him, creating a ki blade in each hand, swinging in vain attempts at decapitation. The governor ducked, flying away while shooting a slew of energy blasts into her chest. She vanished behind a cloud of smoke. A flurry of glass burst through the air. The guards protected Marella and the others with energy barriers. We exchanged looks, unsure whether we should step in or not. Probably for the best we didn’t. Their power levels far exceeded ours. If things grew dire, however, we knew what we would have to do.
She wasn’t about to give up, yet he dodged every lunge, handling her speed. Passion and ire fueled her onward. Lychin provided an answer for every jab, for every thrust, for every desperate slice. I couldn’t follow their movements entirely, but her inferiority was uncomfortably apparent. She couldn’t compete with a man riddled by poison, a man whom we had underestimated to a degree nobody was prepared to admit. He punched her deep in the gut, Mahru’s swords dissipating. She slumped over, spitting up blood. He clutched her by the hair, kneeing her face before slamming her against the edge of the sky bridge and punting her into the air.
“You mistake me for a man who bows before injustice. Foolish, misguided bitch. You’re unaware of what happened to Bael while acting as if divine justice guides you. What miserable petulance. Take it with you to the grave.”
With a shout, Lychin formed an energy beam between his gloves and blasted it at Mahru’s tumbling body. She steadied herself long enough to block the attack, but I’d be lying if I said she didn’t take damage. Her rancor dripped upon her face amidst blood, she charged him, throwing a sloppy left hook. He caught it, kneeing her in the belly, grasping her by the throat, and throwing her at us. She tumbled through the group, knocking over Marella, Imbe, and several others. I’d seen enough.
“Take him,” I commanded the guards.
The guards rushed Lychin, who was breathing heavily, no doubt delirious. We had to find a way, somehow. Our intel had been woefully incomplete. He was stronger than anyone had anticipated. Nevertheless, the poison acted as a timer, and he could not outlast it, no matter his pride. We had to take him out one way or another or die buying time.
We surrounded the governor, thinking we had a chance. He released an explosive wave that grew in power uncontrollably, melting glass and flesh and bone, and my brethren—men and women I’d known for years—evaporated to ash before me. I won’t pretend I didn’t hang back, but that wasn’t for my benefit. Watching them die hurt. I’ll not pretend otherwise. I didn’t want this.
“Fucking asshole!” I screamed, shooting an energy ball at Lychin.
He parried it away, of course, closing the gap before I could blink, punching me back to the remnants of the sky bridge. My jaw throbbed. Most likely broken. Then came the pain. Waves of hurt gushed over my vision. I struggled to remain conscious. The force of his fist left me breathless. The others were shocked, muted in their horror. Not a warrior remained. I was in no position to protect them. Lychin didn’t waste any time. A purple blast of energy was forming in his palm.
“I’m not done. Get over here, fucker. I have a present for you,” Mahru said, limping through what remained of the group, her voice hollow with exhaustion.
Blood trickled down her forehead, pouring like rainwater. She could hardly balance. Things weren’t going in our favor. Another blade of indigo ki erupted around her fist. She threw herself from the gaping glassy gap at him, aiming the tip of her blade at his eyes. Lychin hardly moved as he caught the sword, jerking it from her grip, evaporating it with a single motion. A left jab to her collarbone followed by a crescent kick sent her sailing back. This time, he pursued her, taking her by the throat and holding her in front of Marella, Imbe, and the others.
“You Melrins are all the same—arrogant, acting beyond your station, unaware of the reality you find yourselves in. Let me show you how outmatched you bastards are. Piss off.”
His aura erupting around him, Lychin squeezed her throat. She punched and kicked at him halfheartedly, lacking the stamina to compete. Urgent though her need was, she couldn’t stop him. Electrical energy surged through her body from his glove, and the smell of burning hair and flesh ran thick through the air. She screamed for a time, but her voice held for only so long. Casting aside her corpse, Lychin descended on the edge of the sky bridge in front of Marella and the others. Hate colored his demeanor. He kicked Mahru’s charred remains aside. I tasted blood, unable to rise and face him. The others stepped back in horror.
He was speaking to Marella, his body shaking. “I gave you mercy by sparing you and your daughters’ lives. You weren’t responsible for Bael’s disloyalty. Pity and mercy led to this—a mistake I’ll never make again.”
“Lychin, please…” Marella cried, breaking down.
“That you think you still have a chance is why you must be eliminated. Trust is earned. As governor of Faeri, I condemn you to a swift death. May the gods forget you, may your shame not be recorded as even a footnote in our species’ history. Begone, traitors.”
His first beam went to Imbe, who had turned and ran. Her body silhouetted before me against the rolling white tide of ki. I saw that last terrified, tearful look on her face before she dissolved away. With her passing, my remaining strength faltered and fell to my stomach.
Another blast of energy came forth like a volcanic explosion, and I remember the sound of the wind whipping through the bridge, casting me aside like a piece of trash in a storm. Their screams were lost in the uproar, and my consciousness slipped away. I remember nothing else from that day save the cracking of glass.
Throbbing pain woke me. My jaw had been left untreated. I found myself lying on a blanketless bed behind an energy barrier in an unlit room, shackled in burning ki bindings. Can’t say I was surprised. Whether or not Lychin had survived the battle, we’d been dealt a hammer blow, the likes of which I’m not sure we could recover from. It’s true that many high-ranking members of the Order of Melrin remained whom I didn’t know. Marella and Mahru were irreplaceable, let alone Imbe. Meiquano’s seat was gone. I’m sure Atoka and Huila would be executed. Nothing I could do about it. I felt terrible. They hadn’t been involved. We’d shot our shot and had to live with the consequences. Feeling guilt didn’t mean I harbored regrets.
The guard didn’t say a word as he slid my lunch tray through the energy slit. I’m aware that I don’t have long to live. I was probably the only survivor of the fight. Couldn’t know. Wouldn’t know. I’m at peace with that. I’ve recounted this for the simple fact that I don’t care anymore. I won’t be here much longer. Whatever’s to happen will happen. I’m no longer in control of my fate.
At some point, they’ll pull me out of my cell, likely blindfolded or with a bag over my head, my hands bound by energy restrainers, and from that point on, I’ll be in the final hours of my life. I don’t believe they’ll torture me. Maybe they will; maybe they’ll ask for names. I’ve given them here. I know nobody else. I was employed by Marella for the sake of bringing down Lychin. I hope we succeeded. Can’t ever know.
When Sapras approached me and allowed me the opportunity to tell my story, I believed that would assure me certain privileges, that I wouldn’t be killed. Foolish thought. Near the end of my dictation, the guard who delivered my meals two times a day brought me another delightful bowl of unflavored gruel.
Satisfaction saturated his voice. “Tonight.”
“Did we get the fucker? Is the governor dead?”
He snorted, shut the slit, and left me.
I don’t have long. Know this: whatever they do to me doesn’t take away from the fact that we were right. The Faereth deserve to be a free people. Groveling to the royal family is a losing strategy. It’ll preserve us for a time, yes, but Icer, Kuriza, Yuki—they alone should not govern the fate of the universe. Icer and Yuki won’t produce offspring. I’d bet my life on that. Kuriza has a long way to go before he’s matured. Same with Cooler’s children. The time to act is now, my brethren. We cannot allow the Arcosian scourge to continue their tyranny. Yes, they’re stronger than us. No, they’re not unbeatable. Everyone besides Icer can be dealt with via poison. Bahkaar’s plague remains an option. The cure isn’t widespread. Time is running out.
Too many cowards pervade the Planet Trade. The rats who wish to cling to a sinking ship just long enough to outlast those drowning around them are the cancer in our empire that needs excising. They are why we are failing. Pirates and the like will soon overwhelm every world if a different course of action does not become official policy. But what do I care? I won’t be around long enough to witness our survival or fall. There aren’t enough who have awareness and courage. Fuck ‘em. I’ll go to my grave happily knowing I am one of the few who stood against insanity.
Chapter XV: Affliction[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Mishiro |
| Position: | Soldier in Yuki's Empire |
| Date of account: | April 6, 770 (first scene) April 30, Age 770 (second scene) June 1, Age 770 (third scene) July 7, Age 770 (fourth scene) |
Three and a half months ago, Governor Bhirib sent a distress message to Command that space pirates had attacked Planet Nitro 350. Unsurprising, given the outpost marked the imperial border. Our read-outs indicated the planet had been raided several times before. Took until two weeks ago for Captain Hallar to receive the orders to defend it. We were keenly aware of the delay. Nobody on the team expressed worry, but I knew what we were thinking—there wouldn’t be anyone left when we arrived.
That’s the way it went, mostly. We’d cleared pirates off planets for the better part of a decade. Rarely did we find survivors. Not to worry. There was a job to be done. We’d make sure it was. We were good at what we did. Killed thousands of pirates by my hand, for the empire. This was merely another mission, another fight. One we’d come back from, like always.
Planet Nitro 350 comprised three outposts in the northern wastelands, while three dozen automated deep sea and underground mining facilities pocketed the surface. We landed near the main base where Bhirib supposedly resided. From a distance, the buildings appeared as one would expect—purple, bulbous, myriad in number. Yet, on approach, plasma scarring became apparent. Most of the compound lay in ruin, the governor’s tower collapsed in on itself, the gate smashed, and the buildings battered, dented, and ripped to shreds. Then came the stench. Body parts littered the ground. Arms and legs and intact corpses alike lined the roads. None were skeletons. Fresh enough to foul the air. Mingled with smoke and ash, the air reeked of horrors from the past.
“A cluster of readings are coming from over there,” Icaco said, pointing at the remains of the governor’s spire. While the tower had collapsed, the rest of the building remained. Our scouters confirmed his observation. “Could be pirates, Captain, or survivors.”
“We’ve no time to waste. On me, men. Form up.” said Hallar. “If they’re survivors, we must find and regroup with them. Otherwise, we’ll torch the place.”
Cuyamar took point, Rambuta bringing up the rear. Along with Icaco, I remained close to the captain.
“This world’s a training ground, is it not? Why weren’t the soldiers enough to stop a pirate incursion?” Rambuta asked.
“Who knows? They may have been overwhelmed,” I said.
Hallar snorted. “Could be their numbers have been depleted from repeated attacks. It’s not like the empire’s been in a position to replenish border worlds from whatever losses they’ve taken. They could’ve been hurting bad. Intel’s sparse on that front. Regardless, we’ll have to check it out. Have to know. Keep your eyes peeled.”
We moved down the main road with pace, watching our backs. Dust and charcoal hung heavy in the sky. Whatever had happened, there was a certain freshness to it. An eerie quiet had befallen the town. This is how it usually began. We approached the governor’s building when the captain raised a gloved fist, bringing us to a halt.
“Split up. Rambuta, Mishiro, breach the front entrance. Icaco, Cuyamar, go around back. I’ll check for an entry point from the roof. Assume they’re space pirates, but don’t attack wantonly. Use your eyes as well as your scouters. Don’t need any friendly fire. The paperwork’ll be a headache and a half. Alright, team, let’s—”
A gust of wind blew down the road, swirling dirt. A long, echoing cry of laughter broke the silence from far off, growing closer by the half-second. Others joined it. We froze, placing our backs against one another, forming a circle. Shadows shot down from the rooftops on either side. Didn’t take long until the host of Joleans, twenty strong, had surrounded us.
“Look boys, a kill team. How quaint. Let’s show them the run of the place,” sneered a bejeweled pirate. He flicked his silver-and-gold earring, grinning. “Nice boots you’ve got,” he said, honing in on the captain. “Think I’ll take them for myself.”
“You haven’t a clue what you’ve gotten yourselves into,” another said. “You never should’ve come here.”
“Imperial scum.”
“Shit, they were concealing their power levels,” Rambuta whispered. “There could be scores more of them.”
Icaco scoffed. “As if that would tip the balance. Not like we haven’t been through this before dozens of times.”
“Ugh, Joleans. Why does it always have to be Joleans?” Cuyamar said.
The captain fell into a defensive stance. “This is what we get paid for, men. Show them the strength of the Yuki Force.”
He wasn’t wrong. Joleans looked best face down in the dirt. Seen plenty of that in my line of work. Captain had a maximum power level of 38,000, though in the presence of this world’s star, it was only 15,200. Rambuta, Icaco, and I were around 14,000. Cuyamar was at 17,000. Few pirates could match us, especially as a team. The fuckers didn’t know what was coming. A dead soldier’s body slumped up against the building to our left caught my eye. He would be avenged. Everyone would be. Wouldn’t bring them back, but the universe was better off with fewer pirates. That was our mission, that was our goal, that’s what drove us.
The pirates babbled, boasting and beating their chests. Bastards, all. Didn’t have time for that. Didn’t care. They’d learn exactly why we had been sent here. Wasn’t the first time we’d been up against guys like this. In a way, pirates are predictable. They always assume their superiority without possessing the strength to back it up. Bringing down the hammer of reality was our sacred duty. For the empire.
We leapt at the marauders without fear. Energy forming between my gloves, I kicked away the nearest pirate, blasting him through a building. Good enough. He wouldn’t get up again. Spinning on my heels, I ducked under another’s punch, kneeing him in the ribs before uppercutting him away. To my left, a pair of petty picaroons had taken Icaco to the ground. Throwing myself at them, I brought one to the mud, breaking their hold. Icaco jumped up, punching the other in the collarbone before ending him with a spinning elbow to the mouth. I quelled my foe with a burning electrical shock as I grasped him by the throat.
The smell of burning Jolean flesh spread, ever familiar.
“You good?”
“Yeah, Mishiro, I’m good. They almost got me. Thanks for the assist.”
“No sweat, bro.”
We pressed our forearms together before honing in on other targets. Their power levels weren’t anything to write home about—7000 at best. Captain Hallar and the rest eviscerated them. I killed one more with a ki disk to the chest. They handled the rest. Wasn’t long before the pirate leader was the last one remaining. Atypical for a Jolean, he wore a scouter. Text flashed across its face while he muttered something to himself.
“He’s calling them, captain,” I warned.
“Let them come. Bring on every pirate. We’re here to cleanse the planet, after all. Let’s accelerate the process.”
The Jolean was sweating bad, biting his lip, falling back. His hair was a tangled, sweaty mess, his earrings swinging wildly back and forth. The road was messed up, damaged by energy and movement. Where was his confidence? Where were the sarcastic remarks? We formed up, raising our arms against the pirate. Before we could end him, his bitch ass compatriots came calling. Our scouters designated new contacts. They weren’t stronger than the previous batch.
The wind betrayed their approach. Nothing to fear. No readings above 8500. Faereth, Joleans, and blue-skinned floppy-eared aliens of a species I didn’t recognize filled their ranks. They numbered fifty strong at least. Their captain’s demeanor softened, antagonizing us with relaxed cheekiness.
“Shall we, captain?”
Hallar suppressed a laugh. “Do I really need to give the order?”
We flew without fear, energy pooling in our gloves. They sneered and raised their fists and fell sizzling from the sky. Didn’t know who they were up against. We were pirate cleansers through and through. We’d faced countless groups stronger than this lot. They weren’t anything worth mentioning. Always believing in their abilities, always succumbing to greed, always coming up short—the eternal story of the space pirate. I remember the glint of the captain’s earrings as he spun through the air, spitting up blood, before Hallar vaporized him.
Silence returned to the outpost. “Who were those guys?” Rambuta asked. “The blue ones. Never seen anyone like them before.”
Hallar responded, “Who knows? They’re flesh and bone, died like the rest. Who cares?”
“The more dead pirates, the better off’s the universe,” said Icaco. “Can’t say the same about the garrison. I’m not picking up any life readings.”
“As expected. They murdered everyone,” the captain replied.
I fell to my knees, grasping a handful of dirt in my palm. “All for naught. Again, we’re too late.”
“The scum’re dead,” the captain said. “Justice has been served. We’ve accomplished what we could. The planet’s cleared. I’ll inform Command.”
“How long before it’s repopulated?” Icaco asked.
“Can’t say. Not up to us.”
“Sir, you know as well as I do the empire doesn’t have soldiers to spare. It’s a dead world.”
“Better than leaving it under their control.”
“Aye,” said Cuyamar. “Another hollow victory. Seems we’re constantly a step behind. They pillage, we clean up the mess, and move on to the next. These scars won’t soon heal. We haven’t pushed them back. The rats forever lurk in the shadows. We can only react.”
“Ever the pessimist, eh? It’s our job, what we’re paid to do,” I reminded him.
“And it’s another world lost.”
We regrouped in the governor’s manse, polishing off the last bottles of vintage overpriced wine the pirates hadn’t already pilfered. The place lay in shambles, and we were amongst it, growing drunk, our eyes ever on the next target. I can’t help but think as we celebrated amongst squalor and death diminishing returns would continue. The fight against the pirates wasn’t going according to plan. Every pyrrhic victory took its toll. With each one, the empire bled more. Wine eased our thoughts. Cuyamar and Rambuta played cards while Icaco finished off the governor’s secret bag of imported Mirocan chocolate (well hidden below a handful of papers in the top drawer of his desk). I half-wished I had a sweet tooth.
Hallar was leaning back in the governor’s ki-singed chair, a glass of wine in his hand, when his scouter blinked.
“Commander Naro, what’s the matter? Oh, I see. Yes sir, we’re on our way. We’ll be there as soon as possible.” He stood, taking a moment to catch his balance, downing his glass in a single gulp, casting the cup aside. “Alright, boyos, we’ve been assigned our next mission. The empress needs us.”
Planet Nitro 238 was a frigid, windswept world located on the eastern border of Empress Yuki’s territory. Ever since Bahkaar’s plague tore through the Planet Trade Organization, pirate activity had increased particularly on the edges of the empire. Since Pax Arcosia, they had been, for the most part, contained, but in recent years, holding back their ever-festering hordes had become increasingly problematic. We were losing soldiers who could not be soon replaced while our enemies grew in numbers we could not eradicate fast enough.
More like those we faced at Planet Nitro 350 had gathered on 238, trying their damnedest to establish a foothold. The empress led our forces against them—12,000 on our side. Don’t know how many of them there were; we were significantly outnumbered. Perhaps upwards of 50,000.
We gathered above the planet in space pods, saucers, and transport vessels. I’m not entirely clear on the intel that brought this battle into motion. Wasn’t my place to question such things. We hadn’t been given much information about what was going on. Our objective was clear: kill the pirates, no matter what. Good enough for me. Our scouters beeped as Yuki connected to our secure channel.
“The outlaw scum have made their nest below,” she said, her voice crackling via the connection. “We’ll push them back from this foothold, leaving no survivors. Their foolish gambit ends today. Obliterate the bastards.”
We wore zero-G suits because 238’s weather was otherwise inhospitable. Made a high-atmosphere entry possible. Leaving our ships in space, the soldiers fell into a staggered formation behind Yuki and followed her down. I can’t imagine what the pirates were thinking, watching us descend like a meteor shower from space. Our first target was the Bughoran outpost, where this world’s governor once resided. Now gone, along with his entire garrison. I can’t name how many planets we’d been sent to where that was the case. Men and women who could not be replaced were dying by the scores, and we could do little to stem the tide, except, maybe, by leveling a crushing defeat upon the pirates.
They wouldn’t go away quietly. A barrage of energy met us in the lower atmosphere, exploding and eviscerating weaker soldiers by the scores, while Hallar led our team through the firestorm, dodging blasts with relative ease. Gave me hope that our foes weren’t anything to worry about. Just their numbers needed culling.
As our boots hit the snow, bodies and gory chunks rained down. Smoke billowed across the tundra, obscuring our view of the enemy. So many were using energy attacks.
“Give ‘em hell, boys!” Hallar shouted.
We didn’t need to be told twice. Our enemies had encamped on the compound’s outer walls, pegging us with long-range ki. We answered in kind, ripping apart flesh and metal in a torrent of collective energy. The wind blew hard, and even in my suit, I felt the cold creeping in. Thankfully, we were moving. Got the blood flowing. I remember a man falling screaming next to me, his suit blown open by ki, heat escaping in steaming columns. Hallar rushed the pirates, and we were not far behind. Crashing through the outer walls, we landed, splitting up and engaging them by the scores. Single punches handled many of them. Some needed two. A few required energy to the belly.
Everything happened so fast. Shooting ki, ducking under punches, pushing forward, our pace couldn’t be sustained by anyone who hadn’t done this before. We were grizzled veterans, making our names on the outskirts of space in battles against marauders and thieves. Now was our chance to show our worth. Other soldiers followed us into the breech. Many burned, many fell. We pushed on. I’d never faced so many enemies at once. Exhilarating would be an understatement. Snow sputtered and swirled in the air. In low visibility, we may have held the advantage. Superior speed and reaction times in these conditions allowed the elite to rise over the weak.
Punching my way through fodder, I found myself standing upon the twisted metal of the ramparts east of the main gate. Lights whizzed around me, the ground absorbing them in loud explosions, gashing the surface to rocky splinters. Screams rose in the smoke, drowned out by drumming detonations. Tearing through barbarians, I felt the detached comfort of battle bring me to the next level, loosening me up. Didn’t know who they were, why they’d come here. It didn’t matter. Whether they were desperate or rapacious, whether they were evil or misunderstood didn’t matter. Wasn’t my place to wonder, wasn’t my place to speculate. What mattered was making sure every pirate fell. My pride in being a member of the Planet Trade drove me onwards, kept me going.
A Jolean larger than the others, scarred and shirtless, bleeding from an arm but unfazed, noticed me and charged. I was ready. My scouter began calculating his power level when he lobbed an energy blast, forcing me to duck aside. As I regained my footing, he was already on me, kicking me into a twisted upturn of metal. Surprisingly fast. Nothing I couldn’t handle, however. I fired off a slew of energy with my left hand while parrying his assault with my right. My muscles ached, trying to match his quickness. He threw himself at me again. Wasn’t ready. I spun into the air, laying into him with another flurry of ki shards, tickling him blood-raw. From above, I drank in the extent of the carnage. This was the most intense fighting I’d experienced in my years in the Yuki Force (and the Nitro Force). Dozens were dying by the minute. More. Thousands stood against thousands. The air popped and burned.
The big guy ushered me to come at him, masking any pain he may have received. I doubted his confidence, blasting him with my Starlight Beam. The man blocked it, reacting with a mouth beam that took me by surprise, hitting me square in the chest. I fell, my armor smoking. Soldiers fought around me to the bitter end, and for a moment, I was swallowed up in their collective struggle. Then came the behemoth, throwing aside allies and pirates alike until he grabbed me by the shoulder pauldrons and threw me into a building. That hurt like a son of a bitch. My power was dropping fast, but I wasn’t done. He was on as much of a timer. Surely, the cold was getting to him.
“Take this!”
I flung a handful of ki at him, spoiling his mood. He tried to curb-stomp me. I rolled away, blasting him in the belly. That made him sloppy mad. Increasing his speed exponentially, the Jolean elbowed me in the face, knocking me back. The taste of blood lingered on my lips as I steadied myself, my vision wavering in and out of focus. No time for sleep. The bastard had to die. I caught his next punch, kneeing him in the chest, barely damaging him. I flew away, preventing his retaliation. The Jolean roared, brushing aside my attacks, and hit me again into debris. How he managed to persist in this weather without a zero-G suit, let alone shirtless, showed that he was running on pure adrenaline. This couldn’t keep up. Outlast him, and I would win.
He barreled down upon me. I wasn’t ready. I felt my timer run out, waited for my life to flash before my eyes (it never did), and braced myself. Out of nowhere, Cuyamar descended from overhead, latching onto the Jolean’s back, and released an explosive wave. The pirate gasped, throwing my comrade aside, blasting him with a handful of whitish energy balls. Something compelled me onwards; I rose, charging another beam. A random pirate came at me, swinging wildly. I ducked under his arm, spin-kicked him away, and returned my focus to the behemoth. He had taken Cuyamar by the ankle, battering him against the ground like a hammer. Cuyamar’s suit ripped open. There was little time. We couldn’t withstand the cold. Don’t know what drugs the Jolean was on. His climate acclimation was atypical.
Cuyamar released a larger explosive wave, singeing the Jolean’s arm. Blood coated his chest. Still, he did not relent, bludgeoning my teammate more vigorously. I kicked aside another pirate who had honed in on me, taking to the air, energy coalescing between my fingertips. Before I reached them, the Jolean, a faint green aura forming around him like evaporating water, cast Cuyamar aside and punched him deep in the chest, followed by a punch to the throat, his fist spearing through.
My blood ran cold. Cuyamar was gone. He cast aside the corpse, laughing. Then came the heat, the righteous fury. I’d end him if it were the last thing I ever did. A double Starlight Beam came into reality between my gloves as I bore down on him. The Jolean slapped aside three or four soldiers, and while concentration shifted, I came down upon him from above like hellfire. More beams formed in my hands. I unleashed everything I had, pummeled him with all my power. Burnt metal, in twisted scraps, flung in every which direction. He’d feel the heat. I wouldn’t leave the battlefield outside of winning or dying.
His body tumbled through the blizzard, disappearing in the chaos of battle. I weaved between pirates and allies to reach him. Blood had frozen to his shoulders—the sign of a vulnerable, wounded man. Time to end him. I possessed the motivation required. Leading with a flying kick took him by surprise. Hit him in the jaw and sent him sailing. Didn’t give him a moment to react. Air-dashing with him, kneeing him under the chin as he ragdolled away, I sent him crashing to the ground, which formed a crater around him. A most fitting grave. I jumped back, peppering him with ki blasts. The bastard moaned in pain, stumbling to his feet. He was a true warrior, the likes of which I hadn’t faced in years. Most pirates were sleezeball cowards. Not this guy. Hate molded his stance; I felt likewise.
“You want to die as well? Go with your brethren—”
My energy surged around me as I lunged at him, ducking beneath a hand grab and elbowing him in the chest. “Don’t speak of him!”
Another blast torpedoed into his gullet. I spun-kicked him in the jaw when he tried to rise. Finally, his speed slowed. Like a space wolf, I descended upon my prey and feasted. Damage painted his body, purpling it like a bruised fruit. His stamina was draining. Perhaps removing the shirt wasn’t his best idea. Bravado would be his downfall. Oh well. A left hook to the face landed uncontested, and I knew it was over. His form grew lethargically clumsy, desperate in a way, and arrogant. He didn’t believe he’d lost a step. Couldn’t. I showed him the truth of the matter with a swift kick to the mid-section. Spitting up blood, he fell to a knee, swinging wildly with his free hand. Flipping over him, I kicked him in the small of the back, sending him face-first to the ground. From behind, I pounced, pinning him with my knees and forearm and using my other hand to create a burning disc of ki, which I pressed against the back of his neck, sizzling him to submission. Thankfully, my zero-G suit filtered out contaminated particles. He shrieked and squirmed. I pressed him further into the muddy turf, and the sounds of his anguish were lost under the din of battle.
His body twitched, letting loose his life’s blood. I’d never seen anything so beautiful. Out and out it poured, staining the snow. I fell to my knees, soaking it in. Good. Fucker was dead. He’d let it all out. As had I. For Cuyamar. I poured more energy into my attack, gripping my wrist with my other hand, shouting. I won’t lie—I had to blink away tears. Cuyamar was avenged, but so what? His life wasn’t worth the pirate’s. Emptiness hit me deep in the stomach. As his body turned to ash, I looked away, forgetting. He wasn’t worth another thought.
A timid Faerin came at me. Breathing hard, on my knees, I blasted him aside, remaining in place. I had to catch my breath and clear my head. So much slaughter, so much death was going on around me. Their frenzy enveloped me. I was on the edge of losing it. What was the point of this reckless hate? What were we saving? I won’t say I despaired, though I removed myself from my emotions, set them aside. Had to. The mission took priority. The hordes would come again in a year or five, and we’d lose more planets we could not replace. This world would be a vacant wasteland as soon as we left, even if we were victorious today. No matter. The present was my priority.
Yuki came into view, dual-wielding energy swords. How easily she cut a swath through the vermin, wasting no time and exerting no unnecessary effort. Her form was impeccable. Took my breath away. They wilted before her. I couldn’t believe it. I was powerful, but she was unbelievable. The empress left bloody trail of arms, legs, and gore behind as she mowed through them. We had to work so hard to kill these fuckers, even the ones who weren’t that impressive. She was a different class of warrior. The royal family was five or six levels above what we could comprehend, maybe more. Humbling, to say the least, seeing her in action. How she moved was far beyond me.
They broke ranks and we overran them. I didn’t add much to the final push. We were already winning by that point, so it didn’t matter. They scattered like panicked insects, and the rout began. Energy volleys tore through them from behind. Our legions pursued them into the blizzard. I don’t believe any escaped the planet. Yuki made sure. I don’t remember it coming to that. We won decisively, most of our soldiers remaining.
Yet, Cuyamar was dead; the trade wasn’t worth it.
Yuki had taken a position on the roof of a smoldering building. Maintaining her swords, pressing them against one another to smoke and sizzle in the frosty air, she faced us, connecting to the scouter channel we had used before.
“Victory is ours. We’ve exterminated the rats and sent their remnants crawling back to the dark corners of the universe they’ve infested. Well done, my soldiers. We’ve outlasted the barbarian horde. Form up. It’s time to leave this miserable rock.”
They grunted in ecstasy, raising their arms and punching the air. I couldn’t join them. Didn’t feel it. The cold had gotten to me. The empire was bleeding, albeit slowly. We couldn’t afford many more conflicts like this, even if Yuki were with us. There was no replacing Cuyamar, no replacing those who had died today. It would take years to replenish our army. The pirates’ numbers grew beyond imperial borders, always another wave preparing to strike. How much longer could we hold out at this rate? I don’t think we’d be able to manage much longer if a major change did not occur. What that was, I could not say. I was just a soldier following orders.
Several hours later, a good chunk of the Yuki Force traveled to Thibulan IV to celebrate. The asteroid belt contained a dozen and a half port bars. We’d filled every one to the brim. My team had settled in a less-than-prestigious pub called Violet Tips, a seedy place of ill-repute, smelling of vomit and piss (no doubt poorly maintained from a sanitary perspective). Alcohol was alcohol, and in the end, that’s all we needed. It would take more than a little poison to get Cuyamar out of my head. Should’ve been me, not him. Each drink numbed the guilt.
Music drowned out most conversations. One had to shout to get a point across. Hallar had found his way to the other side of the bar where topless Zar-degar dancers shook their asses for any woolongs a horny soldier could spare. The rest of us huddled around a table, ordering shots. Always hated shots. It’s the dumbest way to consume alcohol, despite being the quickest. Only teenagers or inexperienced drinkers think drinking shots is the way to go. I suppose it was a manly thing, being able to drink a shot without complaining. That shit’s stupid as hell. I won’t pretend I didn’t take part in our usual post-battle ritual, but I was irked, to say the least. Perhaps the others didn’t have the keenest sense of taste.
“Pirates weren’t this fierce when Frieza and Cooler were around,” Icaco lamented.
“The universe feared us back then. Frieza was ruthless, his brother too. Kuriza lacks the decisiveness to run an empire. He inspires no fear beyond his power level. Too soft at heart. Cooler’s children have barely started reading. They’re powerful, sure, but it’ll be decades before they’re ready to lead. Decades the empire doesn’t have,” I said, downing another shot. My chaser cleansed my palate. They were growing too drunk to notice, thankfully.
Rambuta and Icaco joined me in gulping down another round of Nyarin gin. Rambuta whistled over a waiter to order us more. My stomach twisted in knots, anticipating the next disgusting blow. “Yuki is a capable warrior and leader. Her appearance will make her less…trusted. Mocked, even. They can’t pretend she’s weak. The girl has more fighting power than anyone outside of the royal family.”
“She and Icer can only be in one place at a time. They can’t hold the empire together, moving planet to planet clearing out pirates. They must rely upon us,” said Icaco. The Sauteian burped, the sudden onset of drunkenness taking him hard briefly before he got his shit together.
“They have been.”
“It’s not enough, Mishiro. This last fight was emblematic of the problem at hand—we’re taking losses we cannot sustain. Good men are falling by the scores. It will take years to replace them.”
“Like Cuyamar,” I said. “He was brave, powerful, strong-willed. In the end, a mere pirate took him out. Wasn’t worth it. So what if we won? Their lives aren’t equal to ours, aren’t worth what we are.”
“If we are to maintain the empire, we must be able to win fights against the rapidly growing corsair crews without Yuki’s help,” Icaco said. “We have to be better.”
Rambuta was very clearly drunk. His cheeks always grew rosy, and he became talkative when he was buzzed. “You’re right, but were this Frieza or Cooler or Nitro, they would’ve led a task force to the neutral regions and purged the pirates from the source. None of this reactive bullshit, always on the defensive, absorbing blow after blow while allowing the pirates’ numbers to multiply. Pax Arcosia has been a smokescreen, a false peace. We’re letting our enemies grow in power while we flounder, shed numbers from the plague, and take poor engagement after poor engagement. In the long term, we’re fucked.”
“Not our problem,” I reminded them. “We’re hired muscle, not administration.”
“Kind of the problem, no?” replied the Sauteian. “If we can see how clearly things are fucked, why can’t they? At some point, we’ll have to truly confront the pirate scourge.”
“They’re not on the front lines. They don’t possess the experience to know better.”
“That, or most of the veteran senior staff is incompetent.”
“Could be both.”
The serving girl returned with another round of gin. We tipped her, downed our poison, and pretended it tasted fine. Everything grew warmer. The music grew softer. I hardly retained a memory of the battle. My aching muscles and knuckles gave a dull reminder. Not enough to linger on. Not enough to care. My guilt still clung so tight to my heart. I couldn’t let the memory of Cuyamar go. The others didn’t seem down in the weeds. Can’t know for certain. We weren’t the type of guys to pry and prod over sappy bullshit.
Icaco stumbled to his feet, eyeing the other side of the room. “Captain’s got the right idea,” he muttered before slinking off.
Hallar, for what it’s worth, was in the midst of receiving a lap dance. Never much saw the appeal of those. Maybe I was too impatient, but the empty titillation of one’s sexuality struck me as bizarre more so than enthralling. I’d rather order a whore, and I’d never do that either. To each their own.
“Doesn’t exactly feel right celebrating, does it?” Rambuta asked.
“Morale is king.”
“For some.”
“Most.”
He raised his shot glass. “To Cuyamar.”
“To Cuyamar.” We drank. Could’ve been the alcohol guiding me, yet in that moment, reckless passion overtook me. “Why should we give up our lives like him? The empress has no idea about who he was, his power, his legacy. We’re peons to her. We’ll suffer the same fate eventually if the fighting doesn’t let up. Wouldn’t it be better to live beyond imperial borders? With our power levels, we’d be nigh untouchable out there, able to make a living as mercenaries. The pressure would be gone. It’d be an easy life. Lucrative, too. We could slip off unnoticed before our next mission. You know as well as I that Yuki doesn’t have any soldiers to spare to come looking for us. We’d be free.”
“Damn, Mishiro, you’re plastered. How’d you get so much drunker than me? I’m almost jealous. Want to go for another round?”
My heart sank. “If you’re paying.”
“Heh, you always were a stickler. Fine. Let’s do it.”
We did three more rounds of shots, and the next day, my hangover rivaled any from my childhood. If I could do it again, I wouldn’t change anything aside from drinking more water.
Planet Nitro 184 was a torrid sand-swept world bereft of vegetation and life save for three Planet Trade refueling stations. From the reports, the outpost had long been plagued by space pirates, having been defended five times previously from severe attacks. Before, replenishing the garrisons of soldiers, technicians, and the like had been no issue. With Bahkaar’s plague and the wars over the past years, resources had been depleted. I highly doubted anyone would be sent to man this world again for a long time once we had cleared it of vermin.
I hadn’t been out of the pod more than a minute and I was already drenched in sweat. My scouter displayed a temperature of 47°C. “Shit, it’s blistering,” I said.
“I don’t know, Mishiro. I feel great.” Hallar stretched his neck. As an Arce-Albumian, his power was multiplied greatly in the presence of a super-hot star. This system’s was a B-type main-sequence, putting him at his maximum of 38,000, which was far beyond the limits of any of us (or most pirates, for that matter).
“Sir, they’re up ahead. I’m getting several dozen readings from the main port,” said Icaco.
“What of the others?”
“Nothing. Gone, most likely.”
“As expected. Come on, men. Let’s rain on their parade. Karma’s been coming for these fuckers. Let’s deliver it.”
With grunts of approval, we rose to the clouds. Took us less than a minute to reach Pulghabo Station, which lay in ruins. If the pirates had scouters or were Joleans, they would know we were coming. Not that we cared. Putting the fear of the Planet Trade into the hearts of our enemies before coming face-to-face with them was our specialty. Hallar was in his element. Wouldn’t expect the pirates to have grown acclimated to this burning hellhole of a rock.
The settlement adorned a rocky spire sprouting from a sea of sand like a broken crown, smoking, its white and purple Planet Trade markings scarred by plasma. The outer walls had been blown to pieces. Ash lingered in the air; bodies were strewn about—the usual. Hallar released an energy flair as we stepped through the shattered gate, calling all comers. We’d learn soon if these pirates were cowards or fools.
Didn’t take them long to answer. No time to shoot the shit. A Jolean popped his head over a rooftop, our scouters indicating others lurking in the shadows. “You’ve come to the wrong place, imperials. We’ve already toasted your friends. Their screams echo in my dreams. Eager to join them?”
Captain Hallar laughed in a mocking tone. “You sound like a thousand other pirates I’ve destroyed. The only people dying today will be you.”
The pirate smirked, coughing on the back of his hand. “Never should’ve come here. You’ve no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
On cue, his cronies rose into view, sneering and cackling like starving space hyenas. They surrounded us, holding the high ground. Normally, that’d be enough, but pirates weren’t typically a problem for us, and judging by their power levels, this wouldn’t require much effort. Their confidence was a false front, a bluff. We formed a circle, each taking our own quadrant of foes. Anticipation hung heavy in the air. I was ready to lay down a world-class beating.
“You’re Jolean, so you should be able to sense that you’re at a disadvantage. You’ve no hope of beating us,” the captain said.
“We outnumber you ten to one.”
“Were that that makes this an even fight. Unfortunately, our power levels put us in a class above you. I don’t know how many times I have to teach you arrogant bastards that you’re far out of your league. This isn’t going to be pretty.”
The Jolean coughed again. “For once, we agree. You never should have come here. Really think this shithole is worth saving?”
“Every Planet Trade world is.”
“Fool,” the Jolean said in a low voice.
He lunged, his crew following closely behind, screaming battle cries. We rose to meet them, energy forming in our fists. Our salvos met them, rupturing in spectacular explosions of light and wind. They fell, smoking, like zapped insects. To their credit, the remainder came at us undeterred.
A pair of Faereth broke through, targeting me. I backflipped, releasing an explosive wave. Like leaves in the wind, I blew them away. Their defiance coupled with their weakness incensed me. Laying ruin to planets while so weak, with no ultimate plan, knowing soldiers like us would be coming for them, was sheer madness. From what I’d experienced, pirates weren’t the smartest folk. They didn’t often think too far ahead. Plunder, booze, and whores dominated their thoughts, the sustainability of their actions remaining at the bottom of their priorities.
One guy got to his feet and rushed me again. The other was likely dead. Didn’t get a power reading from him. Sweat poured down my face. Make no mistake—the planet’s climate, not their power, was why. I wasn’t being pushed. Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed the others were smoothly handling their opponents. Hallar slaughtered them by the scores with precision finger beams, laughing openly. He was in his element. The loudmouth Jolean had met his fate. Foolish pirates. We’d be rid of them before sunset.
“Captain,” Rambuta shouted. “A group of power levels are moving east towards our pods.”
“Oh, those bastards. Stay here; finish them. I’ll deal with the others.”
His aura materialized around him like a shining star, and with a whip crack, he tore through the sky. I didn’t understand what was happening in the moment. Were the pirates trying to maroon us or steal our pods? Or were they simply fleeing in that direction?
“Let’s deal with the rest of these scumbags and regroup with the captain,” Icaco said.
“Won’t take long,” I replied.
With renewed vigor, I threw myself at the nearest target, battering his brains out with a left hook. Spinning, I parried another’s kick, blasting him away with a Starlight Beam that tore through his torso before kicking another through a building.
“There’re others down there, hiding in the shadows,” Rambuta said, his scouter flickering with readings. “Let’s blast ‘em!”
Icaco and I joined him in pummeling the ruins of that depot (it’d need to be rebuilt anyway), leveling the compound with a flurry of ki. Dust kicked into the air, enshrouding the ruins after we settled down. A quick scouter scan revealed no life remaining in the vicinity. Like the rest, these c*nts were nothing more than hot-air machines. Typical.
Silence save for collapsing rubble overtook Pulghabo Station. Without a word, we raced back to the pods. The scorching sun taxed my stamina. No way I’d complain. Icaco and Rambuta were suffering too. What a miserable place. I felt for those who had been stationed here.
Abruptly, we came upon the plateau we’d landed on. Half a dozen charred bodies were strewn about the battered rocks. Hallar had the last Jolean in a headlock. His armor broken, his body leaking blood and sweat, the pirate was out of gas. Upon seeing us, Hallar threw him to the dirt, forming up with the team.
“Why did you want our pods?” The captain looked at us. “They were about to steal them.” His gaze shifted back to the alien. “What’s your game?”
The green man tried to rise to his feet but couldn’t. Coughing, he spat a black mass onto the ground. “You were fools to come here. Isn’t it obvious? This world’s got the goop.”
“What? No! That cannot be,” the captain said, his voice quivering.
A smirk spread across the bloodied man’s face. “That’s right. Didn’t your comrades tell anyone? Didn’t they request help? No? What a pity. The fate of any place with the goop is usually annihilation. I can’t blame them for their reticence. They’d already blown up their ships by the time we arrived. They didn’t try to fight us. Went straight for ours. Caught us off-guard. Marooned us. We made them suffer for that. Still,” he said, coughing again, “we didn’t expect this opportunity. One last chance to get away. Had to take it.”
“You’re infected.”
“Heh, right back at ya, slick. Karma for your arrogance. Welcome to the club.” He spread his arms like a bird taking flight. “All who come here will share the same fate.”
“Not a chance,” Hallar replied. “A cure’s been developed. We’re going to be fine. You, on the other hand, won’t be so lucky. Your journey ends here.”
“Cling to hope, you pathetic wretch. I’m sure distribution will prioritize outer worlds. Where would you go to claim it? No quarantine station or planet will accept you. You’ve got the goop, same as me. Do you really think doctors will get here in six weeks? You’ll be long gone by then, consumed by the bureaucratic mess that defines the Planet Trade. They’ll have every intention of saving you, but time is a luxury you cannot afford. Why do you think we stand against you? The Planet Trade is evil, uncaring, brutal. And now you’ll die for them. Nobody will remember you.”
“Shut up.”
Hallar quieted him with an energy ball to the face. The headless pirate collapsed, blood spurting from the open wound.
“Is it true, sir? He may be lying to spite us,” Icaco said.
“I don’t know. Protocol dictates we take the threat seriously. Did you see his condition? He looked like an early case to me. He had black lung already.”
“There’s a quarantine station at Peregari not far from here. Let’s get there as fast as possible. We have time.”
“That’s right, sir. Surely they’ll have the cure,” said Rambuta.
The captain bowed his head. “No. We’ll follow protocol, end of discussion. I’ll not be the cause of another outbreak.”
Our pods exploded. He hadn’t raised a hand or anything. The attack took us completely by surprise. How the wind howled in that moment, blowing ash to the sandy remnants of a dead ocean below.
“But captain, why?”
“Is that really a question, Rambuta? Enough. Everyone, double-time it to the comms tower. Urgently, let’s go!”
I admire how he handled the situation irrespective of my fate. It was the right call. We couldn’t afford to spread the infection further. As we took to the skies, I knew in my heart of hearts that what the pirate had said was true: regardless of whether we contacted Command and told them of our situation, it was unlikely they’d shuttle over the antidote in time. Holding out for hope wasn’t the easiest. We were soldiers first and foremost. Feelings were sidelined in these matters. Now that we were free from our mission, our enemies dead and gone, feelings were all that remained. I wouldn’t succumb to misery before my brethren. Never. But I wasn’t hopeful, either. This damn sweltering world would be our grave. A lot of good our loyalty had done us.
Chapter XVI: Size Matters[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Chaye |
| Position: | Bounty Hunter |
Chapter XVII: Medler's Price[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Tanarilo |
| Position: | Nil Runner |
Chapter XVIII: Give A Little Back[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Nectarian |
| Position: | Fleet Admiral in Haimaru & Raimie's Empire |
Chapter XIX: First Contact[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Felijan |
| Position: | Guard in Admiral of Raimie and Haimaru's Empire |
Chapter XX: Pride of His Father[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Kracchus |
| Position: | Fleet Admiral in Kuriza's Empire |
Chapter XXI: New Power Rising[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Puddin |
| Position: | Guard in the Corvos League |
Chapter XXII: You Win or You Die[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Ran Thembii |
| Position: | Fleet Admiral in Icer's Empire |
Chapter XXIII: Deep Fissure[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Natsumiko |
| Position: | Governor in Kuriza's Empire |
Chapter XXIV: The Only Good Faerin[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Jahu |
| Position: | Fleet Admiral in Icer's Empire |
Chapter XXV: Making Peace[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Icer |
| Position: | Emperor of the Planet Trade Organization |
Chapter XXVI: Saving the Universe[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Puddin |
| Position: | Guard in the Corvos League |
Chapter XXVII: Last Remnants[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Kirka |
| Position: | Advisor in Nitro's empire |
Chapter XXVIII: At War's End[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Ran Thembii |
| Position: | Fleet Admiral in Icer's Empire |
Chapter XXIX: The Broken Empire[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Sorbet |
| Position: | Commander |
Chapter XXX: Imperishable[]
| Eyewitness details | |
|---|---|
| Name: | Sapras |
| Position: | Historian |
Planet Trade Organization Leaders: End[]
This section will detail who is in charge of the Planet Trade Organization as of the end of this volume:
Appendix[]
...