Monster!
“But you can have her back. Today actually. If you obey a very simple order. You see, today I’m going to present her to my father. And, well, I don’t have to tell you what he is capable of. So the only way to stop this from happening and to get her back is to help me attack Kregan Prime. Today! I can’t guarantee her safety past that deadline.”
The holo-feed faded and froze on a zoomed image of her sister, tears flowing down her bruised innocent face.
Kalliopy felt light-headed and almost fainted, but Admiral Corso caught her in time.
“Your majesty!” he cried. “Are you alright?” He then turned to the side and ordered: “Medical emergency on the bridge.”
Kalliopy’s eyes watered, but the sadness in her heart was soon eclipsed by the hatred boiling deep inside her soul. She hated Xonax with all her might, and even though she was sure that was the intent of the message, she let the hatred burn like a wildfire.
She put her hand on Corso’s arm. “I’m okay. I felt light-headed for a second. Thank you.”
Admiral Corso nodded.
“Admiral,” said Kalliopy. “Set a course for Kregan Prime. Have all hyperspace-capable ships currently being built leave dock, no matter the state of their weapons. And contact our allies. Over the years we’ve helped many people in distress. Today we call for their help. Every ship is to be called to fight, even freighters.”
“With all due respect, your majesty. This could be exactly what the enemy wants of us. To mobilize and have all of our assets in one place so they can wipe us out, or worse, invade the heart of the Confederate while we’re on a fool’s quest.”
Kalliopy could see in Corso’s eyes how deeply he regretted the last words he used. But she didn’t let him recover from them.
“Saving my sister’s life is not a fool’s quest!” she screamed.
“I apologize, your majesty, I meant no disrespect. Please, forgive me.”
“I know very well what the risks are, but I am your commander and chief. Those are my orders, put them into effect, or I’ll find someone who will.”
Boomer arrived on deck four and looked around, trying to see what could have triggered Mira’s internal sensors. The deck was in poor shape. The artificial lighting was blinking and flickering more than on the other decks.
Boomer had no problem with the dark, but flickering lights, that was another thing altogether. He had seen enough horror movies and games Kevin had played to know that they rarely were associated with good outcomes. The game Dead Space in particular had not been something Boomer had been too keen watching his best friend play.
Relax, those were just for entertainment. This ship is old, decrepit, and these light bulbs or whatever they are haven’t been serviced in ten thousand years. They just need to be changed.
Even convincing himself of such things didn’t do much to alleviate his anxiety walking the corridors as lights and shadows played a flashing battle of wits, one that was deeply unnerving to witness.
“Anything yet?” asked Mira over the comms.
Boomer had been so focused on looking everywhere for movement that the voice scared him silly and he jumped off the ground.
“Damn, girl! You scared me.”
“I’m sorry, Boomer, I didn’t hear from you for a while, so I thought I’d do a status check. I keep getting strange readings in your immediate vicinity. I’m hoping it’s just faulty sensors, but, please, be careful.”
“You don’t need to tell me, this place gives me the creeps.”
Multiple metallic clicking noises caught Boomer’s attention.
“Holy crap, what was that?”
“Are you alright?” Mira asked.
“Shhh…I think I hear something.”
The lights flashed brightly and blinded Boomer for a second, and he raised one of his tiger paws to protect his eyes.
“Did you do that?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“The lights got super bright.”
“I haven’t done anything, I’m afraid. Just tell your armor you need shades.”
Right. This thing can create almost anything.
With a single thought, a stylistic visor materialized around Boomer’s tiger eyes. It looked like Geordi Laforge’s, no doubt the doing of his subconscious.
Sight returned to Boomer, but he had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Though having a nightmare would be more accurate to describe it. Fifty meters away from him stood a big, heavy, and spiky bug with multiple legs and moving antennas. It looked like a cross between a cockroach and a spider, but twice the size of Boomer’s tiger form, if not bigger.
“Bug!” he shouted. “Big space bug!”
The bug unleashed a screeching noise that froze Boomer in place. He knew that he should move, but he was unable to because of his fear.
When the creature advanced toward his position, Boomer reacted instinctively and two plasma turrets materialized on his shoulder armor and opened fire. Balls of heated plasma shot toward the creature and impacted with its carapace and deflected off.
“Uh-oh. Not good!”
The creature screeched more and charged forward. Boomer thought of something else he could try when the bug was nearly upon him.
Wolverine.
He slashed his paw at the creature, as long adamantium claws extended from his paw. It hit nothing but air. The creature had jumped over him and landed on the other side of the large corridor near engineering.
Boomer turned around in time to see yellow eyes glow as the lights around them blinked into darkness for a moment. His visor adjusted, but the bug spat an energy-based weapon toward Boomer at close range. The impact sent Boomer flying backward, spinning in the air, and he crashed and tumbled on the cold and dusty floor for what felt like one hundred meters.
“I’m in trouble!” he screamed.
“I’m trying to beam you out of there,” said Mira, “but my sensors are being jammed. Whatever this creature is, it’s wreaking havoc with this ship’s system.”
“That’s not the only thing it’s wreaking havoc with.”
“Can you make a run for it?”
“It’s blocking my way now, behind me is the engine room.”
“You cannot let the creature in, there’s no way of knowing what would happen if it disturbed the hyperspace engine. It could blow up the ship!”
No pressure.
“Duly noted.”
Fortunately, for Boomer, the smart armor’s shields had taken the brunt of the creature’s attack. But the thing was fast, too fast for a feline, which was not good news for Boomer. He had tried heavy fire and close quarter combat, and they had both failed. He was running out of ideas.
When the bug screeched loudly again before charging toward Boomer once more, it gave him an idea. Since he had run out of time anyway, Boomer decided it was worth a try.
13
With four guards on his side, Xonax walked through the throne room for the first time in years. The guards were armed with rifles that were aimed at his head. His father, Yxantion the Cruel, had banned him from ever setting foot on the planet when Xonax had attempted a coup over ten years ago. Since then, Xonax had carried a hefty price on his head.
He knew very well that it was beyond risky to even attempt returning, no matter how great a gift he thought he had for his father. But he was hoping that perhaps time had healed the wound of betrayal, at least on some level.
With each step taken toward the darkly lit throne, Xonax felt more pressure inside his body. Fears he thought he had defeated a long time ago rose to the surface and threatened to break his sanity. What had he been thinking? If anything at all went wrong in this first meeting, he could be sure he would be his father’s pet Deagon’s next meal. The winged fire-breathing beasts’ appetite for living flesh was legendary.
Or worse, he could be shot on sight before he had time to open his mouth. On second thought, Xonax thought being shot would be a better fate in between the two,
even though neither were appealing. He pushed the dark thoughts away and replaced them with self-motivating affirmations.
Get a fucking grip! You’re here to become the next emperor, not cower in fear like a loser.
He could see his father on the throne. He had let his beard grow long and wider than any ruler before him. That gave him both a wiser and crazier look. Xonax had a hard time picking which one he thought was dominant.
When Xonax was about fifteen meters away from the throne, his father raised his hand.
“Don’t advance any further, traitor.”
His father’s voice was cold and deep. Deeper than he remembered.
Xonax swallowed hard.
“It’s good to see you too, Father.”
“Don’t call me that. You’re not my son, not anymore.”
So much for time healing old wounds…I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less.
Xonax stared deeply into his father’s eyes. Eventually, his father spoke once more.
“Xonax. I always thought you were too ambitious. But I never thought of you as stupid too, until today. So if you have anything you want to say before I execute you, now is the time.”
Alright, down to business…I’m good with that.
Xonax put his hands behind his back and activated a control on his wrist device. He couldn’t take any chances, he might need backup sooner than he expected.
“I have a gift for you.”
His father leaned forward and laid his chin on his fist. “You already have. By stepping here. I can’t think of a better gift.”
“Nevertheless, I think you’ll love this one.”
“Alright, I guess I can let you try and entertain me with one of your train wreck ideas. One—last—time.”
“Would you permit me to beam down a prisoner I’d like to offer to you today?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you really believe I’d drop the shields around the palace so your men can move in and you can try to dethrone me once more?”
“Fair enough, let me show you who I have in mind, then.”
Xonax reached for something in his pocket, and all the guards tightened their grips on their weapons. For a moment, Xonax thought one of them would open fire.
“Easy,” he said showing the small sphere to them. “It’s only a holo-sphere.”
“Tread carefully,” said one of the guards.
Xonax slowly released his grip on the sphere and it hovered in the air before the holo-projector kicked in. The holo-imaged filled with the sight of Athala in her cell all bruised up and sobbing.
“That’s your gift?” said Yxantion. “A poor crying girl? Who do you think I am? I can have any woman I want, when I want it, by snapping my fingers.”
His father’s sexual and predatory appetites were legendary in the galaxy.
“I think you misunderstand the significance of this girl,” said Xonax. “She’s the favorite sister of her majesty Kalliopy.”
It was subtle, but Xonax caught the change in his father’s eyes from slightly amused to interested. He was good at hiding his emotions, but Xonax had observed and learned from the man his entire life.
Xonax had to suppress a smirk. I’m in.
“I’d be more impressed if you had brought me Kalliopy instead,” said Yxantion dismissively.
“And that’s where you’re wrong, with all due respect.”
His father stood up from his throne, pointing an accusing finger at Xonax with rage.
“Don’t you ever talk to me about respect!”
Xonax raised both palms up pleadingly.
“I’m sorry, poor choice of words. What I meant is that Princess Kalliopy is a courageous leader. She would have no problem sacrificing her own life for her people, turning her into a martyr, which the entire Confederate would then rally to avenge.”
Yxantion sat back down on his throne, looking pensive.
“Seems like time away from your home world helped you grow. And what a pair you have grown. I’m forced to admit that I thought you would show up empty-handed, and I only accepted to see you so I could make sure you drew your last breath.”
“If that is your will, then so be it. But I recommend, if I may, that you use the princess’ sister as a bargaining chip. Just keep her at the brink, she’s a fragile soul, and she’s more valuable afraid and in despair than she would broken or dead.”
“You seem to speak from experience.”
“Did you really think I would present you with a gift to redeem myself if I hadn’t tested the theory myself?”
Yxantion coughed. “Do you really think you are redeemable?”
“I sure hope so. I have spent the last few years with that goal in mind. I miss my sister, I miss my land, and believe it or not, I miss you too.”
Xonax could feel it; he would soon get what he wanted. He knew his father would never trust him ever again. And that was fine. All he needed him to do was to lower his guard for only a moment. So he needed to make one last grand gesture.
Xonax dropped to his knees, the muzzles of blaster rifles accompanying him every step of the way.
“Ultimately,” he said, “my fate is yours. If you’d rather kill me now than take possession of the one person who could help you win this war in days instead of years, it’s your decision. Have your men blow my head off or gut me yourself if it will give you more satisfaction. My life is in your hands.”
The room remained silent as the guards exchanged looks. Everything needed to be timed perfectly or Xonax’s head would get blown off. That much he knew, as he also knew his father and how to reach him. When the silence lasted longer than a couple of minutes, in which Xonax and Yxantion played a game of “who’s going to look away first,” his anxiety rose.
Don’t budge, trust that this is your moment, your time, Xonax kept repeating this in his head, as a mantra, unsure if his determination was in control or a way to battle the fear that threatened to overcome him.
His father rose and walked down the nine stairs that brought him to the same level as everyone else. Xonax took that as a good sign. Yxantion kept walking all the way until Xonax could smell his foul breath. At this point, Xonax’s heart was beating harder than it ever had before. His soul drenched into a mixture of fear and thrill like no other.
What made it thrilling is that he had no idea if this would turn out to be the triumphant moment of his life or the last breath he took. However, that moment, where hope and despair were at a standstill, had a dizzying effect on Xonax.
Next to his father was the frozen holo-image of Athala.
“You’ve always been very good with holo-imagery,” said Yxantion. “This does look real, but so did your allegiance to me, once upon a time.”
Time for the kill.
“If you think I’m deceiving you, if you have a single doubt, then kill me. You know you want to.”
His father reached behind his back and unsheathed an intricate blade, then brought it right in front of Xonax’s face. It was his favorite weapon, the one he always used for executions. Xonax almost felt honored.
The blade had many curves and sharp angles, but even if it looked inherently decorative, having witnessed it being used before, Xonax knew it was as deadly as it was beautiful.
“That’s tempting, you have no idea how much so, in fact.”
Oh, trust me, Father, I have quite the inkling.
“Do what you have to do, but I suggest you get your gift first. You can call my ship and arrange for transport of the prisoner. They’re under the impression that I’ll be returning, so better do that before you slit my throat. I can’t guarantee their cooperation past that point.”
Yxantion made a long and frustrated growling sound with his throat.
“Call them,” he ordered.
Xonax moved slowly and then stopped, as he could feel itchy trigger fingers all around him. He looked at the guards and then his father, not needing words to express his feelings.
“Let him call his ship,
” ordered Yxantion. “Before you do anything else,” he told Xonax, waving his blade uncomfortably near his son’s face, “I want to see a live image of my prize.”
Now it’s your prize? Let’s see for how long.
Xonax opened a holo-channel to his ship. He then extended his wrist holo-screen as far as the tiny projector could go. “Show my father the prisoner.”
A guard came in front of the camera with a sobbing Athala.
“Just kill me,” she begged. “Please.”
“Transport her directly to the throne room,” ordered the Kregan Emperor.
You can smell victory, can’t you? Or is that the stench of defeat?
An officer on Xonax’s bridge stepped forward and waved Athala to the side.
“There’s a shield surrounding the palace, our transporters can’t get a lock.”
Yxantion fixed his gaze on his son for a second and then looked at the officer.
It’s now or never.
“She’s not valuable to you dead, that much you know,” said Xonax.
Yxantion flipped his blade a couple of times with great agility and pressed the blade against his son’s throat with so much pressure it drew a line of blood down Xonax’s throat.
“Rise…slowly.”
Xonax obeyed until they were both standing.
“Try anything, and I’ll sever your head!” Yxantion warned.
“Understood,” said Xonax. He then directed his gaze toward the camera again and made an effort to speak authoritatively. Doing so, with the blade pressed against his throat, aggravated the cut slightly. “Do as my father says, that’s an order.”
Yxantion looked at the still active holo-screen. “On my mark be ready to transport the prisoner, or I’ll slit his throat. I’ll have the shield down for five seconds, so make sure you beam her down in that amount of time, or none of them will survive.”
Xonax’s officer made a head sign to someone off camera and a moment later he nodded. “We are ready to transport on your command.”
Yxantion looked straight into his son’s eyes. There was distrust there, anger, and pure hatred. But there was a glimmer of opportunistic hope too. And that’s all Xonax needed.
Make it So! Page 10
