by Tristan Vick
The Nyctans, after all, had superior shield technology. They’d outlast them in a head-on firefight. Jegra knew this; he was the one who had told her.
Emperor Dakroth’s red eyes flashed. Full of fury, he had relished every moment that he tormented Jegra. Making her watch her friend and lover die. Forcing her to kill his useless wives. Making her empress only to take it back from her. Turning her over to his enemies. It was all one long game of ruthless manipulation.
He had even managed to get Cassera to denounce her now that Cassera now had over twenty percent of her DNA rewritten. She wasn’t even pure enough to count as a Dagon anymore–a secret she’d rather take to the grave than be generally known.
All Dakroth really had left to do was take Jegra’s life from her. Hopefully Ishtar Bantu would make Jegra’s death long and painful. Because all he wanted, even more than cracking the secret of her mysterious genetic mysteries, was for his beloved Jegra to suffer. And suffer she would.
24
“Please, reconsider,” Jegra pleaded. She stood before the viewscreen on the Light Bringer and stared up at Vice Admiral Cassera Van Danica Amelorak’s blue, stoic face.
Cassera’s golden eyes and platinum hair shone like the brightest star in the sky and her feminine beauty made Jegra miss her all the more. For the life of her, Jegra couldn’t begin to imagine what thoughts might be racing through Cassera’s mind right now.
The last time she’d seen Cassera, Jegra was being hunted down by a Knight. Then, three months later, they met upon the battlefield on opposing sides of the fight. Even Jegra had a hard time believing it.
“You, of all people, should know I can’t and won’t betray my Emperor, my fleet, or my people.”
“I’m not asking you to join us,” Jegra said, her mouth twisting as she mulled over how best to put it. “All I’m asking is for you not to die on Emperor Dakroth’s hill. Not for a man like him. The empire would be better off without him, and I think you know it. Find your own hill to die on, Cassera. Find a leader that’s worth dying for.”
Cassera opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. “I wish it were that simple.”
Obviously, the tactic of playing it nice and breaking the news to her gently wasn’t working. It was time to take off the padded gloves and talk like adults.
“Look, we both know that the Dagon fleet cannot hold out much longer. You’ve lost three of your ships already and more will fall if you persist in your prideful obstinance. If you surrender to me now, I will see to it that you and your crew are taken unharmed.”
“You know that a Dagon would rather die than surrender to the enemy, Jegra, it’s just not possible. Please, accept this for what it is … a mutual parting of ways. The next time we see each other, it will be as enemies.”
Jegra’s breath caught in her throat and she had trouble breathing. It felt as though her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces and there was nothing she could do to make it stop. “I hope you know what you are doing,” she said, on the verge of tears.
“I was going to say the same thing to you.” Cassera leaned back in her chair and gazed at Jegra with her naturally perfect resting bitch-face. It was the first time Jegra had felt that Cassera was truly working against her.
With a wave of her hand, the feed of Cassera went away and the display of the space battle came up.
“Galahad,” she said, turning to her loyal Knight who stood by her right side.
“That woman is as stubborn as they come. But I know her. I know there is good inside her. If I could only get her to sit down with me face-to-face, I’m certain I could convince her of my plan.”
“What would you have me do?”
“I need you to take your best men and go over to that ship and retrieve her for me. She’s far too stubborn to leave her post of her own volition. I need someone to, how shall I say this, motivate her to come along.”
“Yes, commander.” Galahad bowed and then headed off to retrieve Cassera for the commander.
“Mistress, we’re getting a hail from the Omikran. It’s Adjunct High Commander Azra’il Nun.”
“Put her through,” Jegra responded.
“Why are our ships firing on the Dagons? What happened to the cease fire agreement?”
“I’m afraid Emperor Dakroth grew overly zealous in his desire for control over this sector. Our presence here must have pushed his buttons. He opened fire on us.”
“I see,” she said, leaning back in her chair and resting her chin on her clasped fingers.
“My orders, your grace?”
“Blow that insufferable deceiver out of the sky,” she growled.
“As you wish,” Jegra replied with an enthusiastic grin.
“We’ll join you with reinforcements within the hour. It’s time the Nyctans stop playing nice with the Dagons and put Emperor Dakroth in his place once and for all.”
The screen went black and then Jegra swiped her hand and flipped the screen to the outside view of the battle.
As she watched the firefight, laser blast collided with energy shields that lit up each time they were struck, revealing a small portion of a much larger, hidden bubble that engulfed and protected the ships.
The hour was up and, as promised, Azra’il Nun and the first wing of the Nyctan fleet jumped into the fray. A dozen more ships immediately opened fire on the Dagon fleet, their green disruptors pounding the living hell out of Dakroth’s soon to be obliterated armada.
“Focus all forward firepower on Dakroth’s battlecruiser,” Jegra yelled, aiming a finger at the imperial flagship of the Dagon empire. While Azra’il held the other ships at bay, Jegra’s five ships, including the Light Bringing, all concentrated their fire power on Dakroth’s vessel. If he was determined to act like an ass, then she’d pound him like one. Mercilessly and without remorse.
A daisy chain of explosions began erupting across the bow of Dakroth’s ship as his shields failed. But to Jegra’s surprise, the vice admiral’s ship dropped down in front of Dakroth’s flaming hunk of space junk and gave him cover.
“Cease your fire,” she ordered.
“Ma’am?”
“I want her alive. We need to give Galahad time to extract her. Refocus our main disrupter canons on the remaining ships in the Dagon fleet.” The officer did as commanded. Jegra leaned back and thought, now for the boring part of watching ships go down in fiery slow-motion as they leaked trails of flaming gas.
Two hours later, Galahad’s shuttle returned to the Light Bringer. “Permission to dock,” Galahad asked. Behind him, a blue-skinned woman sat with a black sack over her head.
“Permission granted,” Jegra replied. As the feed cut out, Jegra got up and informed the bridge crew, “I’ll meet them on the hangar deck. Alert me if there are any developments.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the bridge officer answered.
She hurried to the hangar, anxious to confront Cassera. She arrived just moments before they did and watched as the shuttle rose up through the rectangular opening on the deck.
With a waver, it passed through the blue energy shield that kept the atmosphere in, and then hovered for a moment as the hangar doors slammed shut beneath it.
The craft’s landing skiffs extended just in time as it set down and it landed with a loud clunk. The hydraulics whined as the bulk of the ship settled onto its chicken-like legs and there was a loud hiss as air decompressed.
Jegra marched around to the landing ramp, which was slowly coming down. The ramp clanked on the deck of the landing bay and Jegra looked up to see Galahad in full armor, holding the blue-skinned woman’s slender arm with his thick gauntlet. Her wrists were bound with korridium restraints.
“I extracted the prisoner as requested, Sub Commander Alakandra,” he said, using her formal title.
“Good,” Jegra said, smiling. “Leave her to me.”
Galahad gave his prisoner a shove and she stumbled down the ramp. He then pulled off her hood to reveal Cassera’s scowling face. T
he moment she saw Jegra standing in front of her she spat at her. “How dare you kidnap me!”
Cassera’s spit landed on Jegra’s cheek and she calmly reached up and wiped it away with her hand. “Nice to see you again, too,” she sarcastically quipped, brushing her hand on her thigh and wiping off the spittle.
“You have no right to take me prisoner! You’re breaking so many intergalactic regulations right now!”
“Galahad,” Jegra said, turning to her Knight, “you’re excused. Update me on anything vital to the mission at twenty-two hundred hours.”
He nodded in affirmation of her request and promptly left the landing bay. Once he was gone, Jegra turned toward Cassera and reached down and unlocked her restraints. The korridium handcuffs fell to the floor with a harsh clank.
Cassera rubbed her wrists while Jegra reached out to touch her. “I’m sorry for any discomfort, but—”
Cassera pulled away and shot Jegra a hurt look. “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?! That’s rich coming from you.”
“Believe me or don’t. But the truth is, I haven’t lied to you. If anything, we’ve always been brutally honest with one another. Even when it hurt.”
“How’s this for brutally honest?” she growled. “I wish that I’d never met you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Jegra replied, her voice catching in her throat.
“Sure, I mean it. So why don’t you take me to your brig as your prisoner or send me back. Otherwise, I think we’re done here.”
Jegra’s eyes welled up with tears and she preemptively brushed away a stray one before it had a chance to roll down her cheek.
From behind her, the shuttle bay entrance doors swooshed open and, to her surprise, Ellia entered. Jegra shot her a puzzled look as if to say, what are you doing here? There was no reason for her to be here.
“Ellia?” Jegra asked, confused.
“Mistress, forgive my intrusion, but Sir Galahad just called from his shuttle to inform you that he’ll be here within the next half hour.”
“But Galahad just arrived with the prisoner,” Jegra informed Ellia, turning back toward Cassera.
When their eyes met Jegra’s heart dropped. Cassera’s eyes weren’t the lovely gold she knew so well. They were a muddy yellow. A bad imitation. And that wasn’t the only thing off about her. She seemed taller by several inches. And, the final giveaway, her scowl had turned into a smirk.
“Who are you?” Jegra asked.
Before she had time to react, the woman grasped Ellia and reeled her in, taking her hostage. Drawing a korridium blade, she held it to the girl’s throat as she clasped her tight. “You fool,” the woman laughed. Holding onto Ellia, she slid her hand down the girl’s body and then reached across Ellia to touch a device strapped to her own belt.
Jegra glanced down at the device and recognized it. It looked almost identical to the device Gyllek had given her before her arrival at Cordova. A holographic masking device.
The blue skin of Cassera flicked and then dissolved to reveal a red skinned female with black tattoos. The same woman who had murdered Abethca.
“It’s you,” Jegra gasped.
“Surprise,” Ishtar Bantu hissed. Then, without warning, she slit Ellia’s throat.
“Nooo!” Jegra screamed as Ellia’s blood splattered across her face.
The red-skinned assassin moved fast. Faster than Jegra could react in her bulky armor.
A lacerating pain tore into her abdomen and she looked down to see the korridium blade sticking out of her gut.
“Oops,” Ishtar Bantu joked. But of course, her attempted murder was quite deliberate.
Ishtar tried to pry the knife out again, but it was snagged on Jegra’s armor. This gave Jegra the opening she needed; she thrust her head forward and headbutted the bitch in front of her.
Their skulls cracked loudly and they both staggered backward. “You’ll pay for this,” Jegra growled. A sudden surge of pain, however, caused her to drop to one knee. She was already starting to feel lightheaded, too, but with the blade lodged inside her she wasn’t bleeding out.
Unable to account for the sudden onset of dizziness, she snarled, “What did you do to me?”
“The blade is coated with the venom of a Kreelak needle spider. The venom is slow acting but extremely lethal, and the pain is said to cause its victims temporary insanity just before death. Oh, and, a little FYI for you, there’s no known cure in the entire galaxy.”
The red skin assassin walked over and grabbed the knife again. This time she jerked it out with such brutal force that Jegra’s insides almost came out with it.
Jegra gripped her wound and sank to her knees, her knee-guards clanking on the deck as she collapsed. Vertigo seized her and she toppled over onto her side. Her vision blurred in and out as she watched Ishtar turn away.
Jegra’s blood dripped off the dagger, leaving a dotted trail of crimson as Ishtar returned to the shuttle.
Soon enough, the shuttlecraft rose up as the launch sequence was initiated. Jegra groaned and rolled over the yellow perimeter line to Ellia, who lay a safe distance away from the shuttle bay doors. Exerting herself in this manner, however, caused her to begin to hemorrhage profusely.
With a painful grunt, Jegra turned her head and looked over at Ellia. The young woman’s eyes were vacant, yet Jegra could see fearful shock as they stared back at her. And although she was dead, Ellia’s blue blood continued gushing out of her neck, pooling a short distance from Jegra’s body, which also bled heavily. The red and blue pools of their blood met in the middle and mingled to form a ghastly purple mess.
The shuttle exited the hangar and then darted away. As Jegra watched it leave, she thought to herself, this sucks royal balls. Not only had she been poisoned, but she just lost Ellia, a dutiful servant and someone she had begun to think of as a friend. And, to make things worse, the assassin had gotten away. For a second time.
“Dakroth,” she snarled, as razorblades of pain surged throughout her entire body.
Even though she didn’t have a shred of evidence to prove it, she knew in her gut that this was his doing. First, he took Abethca from her. Then, he took her home. Then he married her, betrayed her, and took her title from her all in the course of a week. He left her to his enemies and, now, he was doing it all over again.
“Fuuuck!” She screamed out as loud as she could muster, gripping her side. He had played her from the very beginning. And if she somehow survived this ordeal, she swore to whatever god was listening, she’d make him pay.
Just before she blacked-out from the intense pain of the Kreelack needle spider’s venom, Ellia’s words came back to her. An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart, an oath for an oath.
25
Chilled to a fraction above zero, Jegra awoke to find herself suspended inside a large glass cylinder filled with a thick cyan colored gel. A medical issue oxygen mask was strapped to her face with tubes running up and out of the tank as a respirator at the top kept her breathing.
“She’s awake,” a voice said. But Jegra couldn’t make out who it was through the thick, blueish-green slime.
“Begin the thawing process and monitor her vitals.”
An odd gurgling sound could be heard as the gel slowly drained from her glass tube and was promptly carried away by giant black hoses. Sinking gradually, her feet finally touched the cold metal bottom of the container.
Her legs were weak and her knees buckled under her weight. She leaned into the glass with her shoulder and pressed her forehead to it as a sharp pain abruptly shot through her frontal lobe and wrapped around to the back of her skull like a nasty migraine.
There was a hiss of air and then a pop which sounded as though a champagne cork was popped and, all of a sudden, the glass container opened.
Jegra spilled out onto the floor, her body smacking against the smooth surface with a sticky sound. The thickness of the gel was enough to break her fall as it oozed out from under her. As the gel warmed, it became the consistency
of pudding and gradually dripped off her body, pooling all around her and forming a mottling of gooey islands.
When she tried to push herself up, she slipped on the gel and her cheek slapped the warm floor. It seemed that the ground had been heated to just the right temperature so as to provide her with some measure of comfort as she lay sprawled out on the tile.
She rolled onto her back, peeled off the oxygen mask, and took in a deep breath of fresh air. Wiping the slime from her eyes, she glanced around the room. Above her stood a woman in a fetching red dress. Her all-black eyes and porcelain skin gave away the fact that she was Nyctan.
“Who are you?” Jegra asked, her voice raspy and dry.
The woman settled down next to Jegra. Sitting on her heels and reaching under Jegra’s neck, she gently helped her sit up. She cradled her in her arms; she didn’t seem to be concerned about joining Jegra in the muck.
A servant soon arrived with a golden chalice and handed it to her. The woman took the cup from the servant, who quickly disappeared out of sight. She brought the chalice to Jegra’s lips and said, “Drink.”
Jegra craned her neck and her lips met the chalice. She took a long drink and swallowed. The moment she realized it was water, she started to guzzle it, but was too hasty in quenching her thirst and some of it went down the wrong pipe.
After a short bout of coughing, Jegra wiped her mouth and thanked the woman. “I appreciate your kindness.” Looking up at the big black eyes that peered down at her, Jegra asked for the woman’s name once more. “Who are you, again?”
“I’m Vesta Sanakar,” she said, a coy smile spreading onto her face. “The Oracle of Nyctan and the holy seer of the things unseen.”
“The oracle?” Jegra gasped. Sanakar smiled at her in reply but didn’t say anything. Words weren’t necessary.
Jegra looked around the room. It was an ornate sanctum with lots of inlet lighting; there were three women priests on either side of them chanting a kind of meditational hymn as they sat, legs crossed under them. They meditated in the nude, all but for the red paint they wore on their bodies.
