Imperatrix of the Galaxy

by Tristan Vick

  Meleh’Kendar, her chief of security, met her at the main entrance of the palace.

  “What is it?” she asked, realizing that Meleh’Kendar wouldn’t burden her with anything unless it was absolutely vital.

  “The senate has just voted in favor of a vote of no confidence regarding Emperor Dakroth. Also, Senator Targon has just declared martial law and instated his daughter, Callestra, as Admiral of the Fleet. He has effectively taken control of all of Dagon Prime.”

  “A coup then?”

  “A coup to arrest power away from you, your grace. Without the Lord Emperor to contest the ruling, the reign of the empire falls to you.”

  “Suspicious, I’d say, that the Lord Emperor goes missing just before a coup.”

  “Indeed. But that’s not the worst of it.” Jegra raised an eyebrow as Meleh’Kendar briefed her on the shocking details. “They’re saying the Nyctans have made a declaration of war for Dakroth performing the Ceremony of the Chosen One under false pretenses.”

  “The Ceremony of the Chosen One…” Jegra repeated, rubbing her chin in contemplation. “But that means Dakroth would have had to impregnate the administratrix with his seed.”

  “You are familiar with the ritual, then?”

  “I’m familiar, but I never dreamed he’d actually go through with it. Anaïs Nin is everything he despises. Self-righteous. Hyper religious. Tight lipped and even tighter legs that open for no man.”

  “She is claiming he lied to her about his reasons and impregnated her. The ritual ended in the termination of her fetus. Because of this violation and crushing loss, she blames Dakroth and has sworn to get her vengeance on him.”

  “It’s a ruse,” Jegra said, clutching her fist. “It has to be.”

  A static discharge as loud as a clap of thunder sounded and Meleh’Kendar and Jegra startled in fright and glanced up at the sandstorm raging against the energy shield. Putting his hand on the small of Jegra’s back, he ushered the empress toward the entrance. “Come Your Majesty, we’ll be safer inside.”

  Once inside the palace, Meleh’Kendar touched a wall panel and said, “Computer, secure the palace.”

  A loud clanking could be heard as the blast shutters all rattled into place. As the grand hall darkened, the automated lighting kicked on.

  After giving it some thought, Jegra looked at her chief of security and said, “Find out everything you can about this coup. In the meantime, let’s weather out this storm.”

  What she left out, however, was that she had a bad feeling about all of this. Not just the storm, but the bad omen it represented. The likely assassination of a senator; a coup from two fronts. The Empire was being destabilized from the inside out. But to what end? Was it just a power grab by Targon and his acolytes? Or was something more sinister going on here?

  Determined get to the bottom of it, however, she swore she wouldn’t rest until she had the truth. Even if it meant defying the senate and going against the expected customs of Dagon traditions, the main one being never give up power at any cost. She was willing to let her enemies think they had the hand up on her. Meanwhile, she’d sow the seeds of rebellion. Show them a thing or two about good old-fashioned grass-roots resistance and perseverance.

  38

  Stormbreaker, the flagship of the Galliforn Space Defense Fleet, GSDF, jumped into the system at the coordinates of the anomaly simply known as “The Rift.” The rift contained a dark space, a gravity well that often sucked unsuspecting ships in. Ships that were never seen again. It was a place that was to be avoided at all costs. And yet, one had escaped it. And ever since Empress Alakandra’s harrowing escape from this theoretically inescapable void, there had been a mysterious signal emanating from the rift. A signal that Captain Lodbrok was tasked with investigating.

  Captain Lodbrok stroked his coarse black beard and leaned forward in his chair. “Hold her steady here, Quartermaster Oddgrim.”

  The massive ship slowed to a stop, the giant horns of a bighorn sheep curled elegantly around the head of the ship and subtly blended back into the architecture of the bovine face that made up the bow of the vessel.

  The hull of the ship, which looked like a massive sledge hammer, had an elongated tail-wing that, like a whale fin, fanned out horizontally, extending away from the ship’s eight aft thrusters situated both above and beneath.

  All along the hull of the ship were interwoven patterns, mostly the geometric shapes of bones and rams, etched in a Nordic jelling style that spanned from bow to stern.

  “Aye, sir,” Oddgrim shouted with robust enthusiasm. Although the chocolate colored satyr was the oldest officer aboard the ship, he approached his job with the energy of a faun half his age.

  Oddgrim, it turned out, also happened to be blind. But his whitewashed eyes didn’t detract from his performance as ship’s navigator, since he had most of the star charts devoted to memory. And navigating a warship like the Stormbreaker had more to do with calculating speeds, trajectories, and inputting the correct coordinates than it did the agile by-the-seat-of-your-pants piloting of something like a split-wing fighter.

  A starfighter, the ship was not. Whereas smaller vessels may need to navigate delicate paths through asteroid fields, the Stormbreaker smashed through anything in its way. Including, but not limited to, asteroid belts. It was a battering ram in space, after all.

  In a way, having a blind helmsman was sort of fitting. It reflected the Galliforn philosophy of life: Strength in the face of weakness. Honor over cowardice. Kindness in lieu of selfishness. Practice the old ways over the new. And always honor the Moon Goddess, Selene.

  “Sir, we’re picking up strange readings,” ensign Phobos informed the captain.

  Captain Lodbrok stood up and clasped his hands behind his back. His classic naval uniform looked more like that of an ancient mariner than the captain of a state-of-the-art starship, but it all went back to the adage about practicing the old way over the new. If it wasn’t broken, then there was no reason to fix it. The Galliforn people prided themselves in honoring the ancient while, simultaneously, embracing the new. As such, everything new, though incorporating the most progressive technology, had an almost antique aesthetic about it.

  “Precisely what kind of readings are we picking up, ensign?” Lodbrok asked.

  “There seems to be an energy surge building up on the other side of the rift, captain.”

  That didn’t make any sense. After all, the gravity well should swallow up anything that was there. Unless… the captain thought, something that registered high energy readings is gathering inside the gravity well. But, then, that would mean…

  Lodbrok’s eyes grew wide as the revelation of what was about to happen set in. “Quickly now, open an emergency channel to our sister ship, the Chiron.”

  Up on the viewscreen the aged face of the most infamous satyr in the Commonwealth appeared, Grendok of Galliforn.

  “Ah, Captain Lodbrok, what an unexpected surprise. I pray all is well with you and your lovely family.”

  “Apologies, old friend, but I must dispense with the pleasantries as this call is regarding a matter of utmost importance.”

  Grendok raised a hoary eyebrow and stroked his fleece beard pensively, pulling it into a long funnel and twisting it before repeating the process all over again. “A security issue then?”

  “I’m afraid it’s worse than that, even. I’m issuing the De Defectu Oraculorum protocol.”

  A heavy silence fell across the bridge crew and everyone turned to their captain with stunned faces. The De Defectu Oraculorum was the name of the ancient text of death, the final chapter in the Enchiridion. It prophesied the end times of Galliforn. Not just Galliforn, though, but the entire galaxy.

  “So, it begins,” Grendok said in a solemn tone.

  “Please,” Lodbrok beseeched of his fellow countryman, “I need you to—”

  A burst of static interrupted the captain’s words and one of his officers began shouting that the rift was opening up. More stati
c was followed by the garbled shouts of the crew and, finally, Captain Lodbrok could be heard barking orders.

  The video feed came back on and revealed the captain’s fear-stricken face. A strange, ethereal golden light of unknown origin cast itself over the entire bridge of the ship.

  “They’re already here!” shouted Captain Lodbrok. Turning back to the vidcom, he leaned in, his bovine snout and slatted eyes taking up the entire frame. “You must warn her, Grendok. You must warn Empress Jegra Alakandra. The—”

  Another burst of static interrupted his speech. In the background, the mysterious golden light intensified. It continued to do so until Grendok could no longer make out any of the details. A nano-second later, the crew began screaming out in agony as the brilliant light grew so intense that Grendok was forced to look away from his vidscreen.

  Amid the crew’s screams, Lodbrok’s panicked voice broke through. “I repeat,” he intoned with utmost urgency, “the invasion has begun! The invasion has begun.”

  Just then the televid feed cut out. Saddened by what it meant, Grendok lowered his head in a moment of silence. The Stormbreaker, along with his friend, had been destroyed.

  Nevertheless, Captain Lodbrok had not died in vain. Far from it. It was because of his dying message that Grendok would be able to get word to Empress Alakandra in time.

  With any luck, she would be able to use both the combined might of the Dagon Imperial Navy as well as the Knights of Caelum to mount a defensive. In the meantime, he’d have to round up every remaining Galliforn warrior he could find as well as call in a few favors of some unruly space pirates.

  “You there,” Grendok hollered, pointing at a younger clone of himself who was busy tidying up an ornate office decorated with the finest artifacts from every corner of the Commonwealth. Prized among his treasure was a bronze statue of Jegra’s naked body standing upon a pile of defeated warriors.

  “Yes, sir?” the young Grendok replied.

  “Prep the ship for immediate launch. We have much to do and very little time to do it in.”

  “As you wish, sir. Any particular destination?”

  “Thessalonica,” Grendok said. Before the young faun could prance off to do his elder’s bidding, the graying Grendok shook his head, as if he’d changed his mind, and called out, “No, wait. I’ll send the message personally. You get dressed and take command. Make haste for Galliforn.”

  “Yes, sir,” the satyr replied.

  “And get me Raven Nightguard on the comm. I’m going to need all hands on deck for this. And be quick about it my, boy! The very fate of the galaxy is at stake.”

  The young satyr nodded and quickly skipped away. Grendok turned back toward his desk and fixed his gaze on the battle-axe hanging on his wall above it. It was his from the campaigns and the war against Loki’Alloran Rhadamanthus Dakroth. One which Galliforn had narrowly won.

  But if Grendok’s hunch was right, this battle would take the entire Commonwealth of planets working together to win. If not, they’d most certainly be doomed.

  Grendok typed a few keys on the touch display surface of his desk and a computer’s voice chimed on. [*Satellite coming into range now.*]

  “Show me a visual,” Grendok said.

  Up on the wall, a large televid lit up with the image of sparking debris. By the patterning of the shards floating through space, Grendok knew it was what remained of the Stormbreaker.

  “Zoom out,” he said, eyeing the image suspiciously, waiting to catch a glimpse of whoever, or whatever, was capable of destroying the galaxy’s toughest warship. Suddenly, a golden tentacle whipped by. “Zoom out seventy percent,” he added.

  The satellite image zoomed out, capturing a wide panoramic view. The horizon came into view and a long slender tear in space, emitting golden light, filled the viewscreen. Also pouring out of the rift were thousands of cosmic squid entities, of all different sizes.

  Some of the creatures were as massive as small moons. Others were the size of large starships, while many more were the size of shuttles and smaller transports.

  He stared at the squid invasion for a long time and then narrowed his eyes. “Zoom in on the entities of light,” he said.

  The computer complied. In the spaces between the squid creatures’ massive bodies were warships unlike anything he’d ever seen before. They seemed to be made out of the same glowing, radiant material as the bodies of the squids. But there was no mistaking them. They were ships of war.

  The warships, the size of dreadnaught class battlecruisers, had elongated frames and barbed, spear-like, tendrils that extended past the bow of every ship like thorny sea urchins. The sterns of the ships were no less intimidating since trailing behind them were tentacles of a mechanized nature.

  Attached to the end of each of the robot tentacles were massive laser cannons more powerful than anything in the Galliforn fleet. The tentacles coiled around huge thrusters that guided the destroyers toward their final destination. And, it just so happened, Grendok had an idea of where that would be.

  As bad as things seemed, luckily enough, Grendok knew a thing or two about thwarting invaders. That said, this time they weren’t going up against blue-skins. They were dealing with an entirely different kind of monster. Something ancient. Something sinister.

  Determined not to give in to his fears, Grendok cleared his throat and, then, with the swipe of a finger, flicked off the monitor. Turning to leave, he paused, turned back again, and retrieved his battle-axe from off the wall.

  “It seems we’ll be back in the fray very soon, ole chap,” he said, kissing the axe on its head.

  39

  “At long last, there she is,” Angellyk said with a smile, looking up to find Raven enter the brig. Angellyk eyed her up and down, admiring her figure complimenting outfit–a tight, charcoal gray tank top that hugged her figure so tightly that her nipples budded underneath the fabric. She also wore black jeans with tears in them that showed off patches of indigo skin. Her belt was tactical in nature but had an elegant salmon colored, single-plate buckle that added a bit of flash to her otherwise drab attire. Rounding off her ensemble were her patent black military issue boots, which she kept her pant legs tucked into at all times.

  “Apologies,” Raven said, “things have been so hectic lately I haven’t had the time to work through whatever…well, whatever this is.” She pointed at Angellyk and then to herself.

  Not waiting for a response, Raven’s heavy, black leather boots clomped across the metal floor as she marched over to the locking mechanism on the outside of Angellyk’s cell and, leaning over the retina scanner, input her biometrics.

  “Stunning as always,” Angellyk said warmly, leaning against the glass barrier as she let her eyes linger on Raven’s ass long enough for Raven to shoot her a scornful look. She shrugged it off and smiled coyly, still impressed by how the tight-fitting denim really did hug her every curve on Raven’s perfectly sculpted figure like a second skin.

  Finished at the console, she stood up just as the red light above the door flickered to green and the glass plate slid open. Raven stepped aside, gesturing with a casual nod for Angellyk to pass through the opening unobstructed.

  Angellyk stepped out of her cell, tossed her forest green hair across her avocado colored shoulder, and faced Raven. “For a while there I thought maybe you had forgotten about us.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Raven replied. “I take it Skuld has taken good care of you, though?”

  “He has,” replied Angellyk.

  “Good. That’s good,” Raven said. She shot her ex-wife a quick but fleeting smile and then turned to leave.

  “Wait a nano-second,” her ex said, stopping Raven with a hand on her shoulder. “Is that all? Just, ‘you’re free to go’ and then goodbye?”

  Raven paused. “It’s not like that. It’s just…I’m a bit preoccupied. I have other things on my mind.”

  “Maybe I can help?”

  Raven looked back at Angellyk and took her hand in hers. “I
wish that were possible. But this is something I must do alone. You understand, right?”

  Angellyk’s teal eyes held Raven’s purple eyed gaze for a long time and then she nodded silently, motioning that she understood. She understood Raven was a lone wolf and would rather struggle in vain than ask anyone for help. “Same old Raven,” Angellyk laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Hey, as much as I love to see a good old-fashioned reunion,” came the disgruntled voice of Onelle Agnar, who stood glaring at them from behind the glass of her enclosure, opposite the one Angellyk had occupied. “Do you think you could, maybe, wrap this up sometime in the next century and let me out of this place? I have places to be too, you know.”

  “And yet nobody has even bothered to wonder where you disappeared to,” Raven said coldly. “If I were you,” she added, “I’d see to it about getting myself some new friends.”

  Onelle had been missing for months and not a single person had come looking for her. In fact, Raven had a hunch that everyone in her life was properly celebrating the insufferable woman’s disappearance. But until the empress decided on what to do with her, Onelle was her problem.

  Irritated that nobody would listen to her, Onelle went over to the corner of her cell to sulk. Sitting on her cot, she put her leg up on the edge and smacked the back of her teeth, looking away from the two love birds with disgust.

  Angellyk and Raven’s eyes locked. “It’s about Jegra, isn’t it?” asked Angellyk. But she was fairly certain she already knew the answer to her question.

  “What is about Jegra?”

  “The thing that has you so tight lipped.”

  “You were always good at reading people, Angie,” Raven replied. “But I’d rather not talk about it, given our current company.”

  Both women slowly turned and looked over at Onelle and stared at her with blank faces. Onelle caught their judgmental expressions and she scoffed, folded her arms, and turned away.

  “No, it’s not just Princess Pleasantries over there…it’s a sensitive matter. I’m sorry, that’s all I’m at liberty to say.”