by Tristan Vick
“What?!” Jegra gasped.
“The Light Bringer,” he replied, pointing out the window at a sleek-looking battleship. “It’s the pride of the fleet. The fastest, toughest, and best equipped ship in the galaxy. The ship of the Knights of Caelum.”
Stunned, Jegra turned around. “You’re giving me a starship?”
“You’re the chosen one,” Azra’il Nun, answered. “And we must obey the wishes of our lord, Hastur.”
Jegra turned to Galahad. “Well, what are we waiting for? I hear my estranged husband has a fleet that needs destroying.”
Galahad smiled. “As you wish, milady.”
Jegra followed him through the arched doorway of the bridge, glancing back to see the two Nyctan women smiling at her. She pivoted and threw her right fist over her chest and bowed. It may not be their custom, but as a gladiator, it was hers.
Both women bowed in response and, satisfied, Jegra exited the bridge.
“What about the other?” Azra’il asked her partner.
“The other remains in her prison cell where she belongs.” Her voice dripped with disdain.
“And if Hastur should choose the hybrid over the human? What then?”
“In 700,000 years, Hastur has never chosen a mongrel to be his vessel. Therefore, it seems a safe bet he won’t. But keep her alive, just in case he should … surprise us.”
“And the Empress of Dagon? If Hastur possesses her, both empires would submit to her rule. She wouldn’t merely be Dagon’s empress anymore. She’d be Nyctan’s Empress as well.”
“If it comes to that,” Anaïs Nin said in a cold voice, “then so be it. Until that time, however, we can use her in our present campaign.”
Both women smiled and turned back toward the window and looked out as the Light Bringer came fully into view.
22
Dropping out of hyperspace, the Nyctan battlecruiser, the Light Bringer, appeared in the Zargora system with a flash of light and a boom caused by the terminal shock wave that occurs exiting hyperspace.
The Light Bringer snapped into focus as it slowed to normal cruising speed and then cut between two binary stars as it headed toward an asteroid belt that orbited a super massive black hole.
The Dagon Imperial fleet was on the other side, blockading a supposed trade route. But Jegra knew that was a bunch of B.S. Emperor Dakroth was protecting something and she intended on finding out exactly what was so important that he devoted half of his fleet to safeguarding it.
In the meantime, her fleet would gather on the opposite side of the black hole, using the electromagnetic interference of the singularity to prevent long range scans from detecting their arrival.
It had been three months since Emperor Dakroth’s betrayal of her at Cordova and she had spent every waking moment training with Galahad, three long, grueling months of training with the Knights. And although Jegra had become a member of the Nyctan military order, she still felt out of place. They were borderline obsessed with duty and honor, and they only cared about their mission. Nothing else.
Still, they had given her a starship and, what’s more, promoted her to commander, second class, of an entire division of their fleet. All because some oracle had told them that’s what their god, Hastur, wanted them to do.
Aboard the bridge, Jegra stood gazing out of the main viewscreen at the purple nebulae that hung before them. Her sleek space-gray armor that shimmered like liquid glass in the starlight and she locked her wrists behind her back as she admired the scenery.
Even though she knew it was only a vast collection of gas, ice, water, and space dust, it was still beautiful.
Galahad sauntered up to her side and gazed out at the cosmic vista with her. They shared a moment of silence, both in awe of the beauty displayed before them. After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“Commander, we’ve arrived at the coordinates you gave us. But where exactly are we? There’s nothing of strategic value on any of our scanners and there are very few inhabitable systems in this area.”
“This is where Dakroth said the secret shipyard was. He thought maybe the Nyctans had gotten some intel on it and had destroyed it.”
“We did not know of this secret installation until you alerted us as to its presence. But it would explain how Emperor Dakroth was able to keep such a stronghold on the Zargora system without having laid claim to any of the planets or moons here.”
“Remind me why nobody has colonized this system, again?”
Galahad turned toward Jegra. He was wearing his infamous black armor. “Many settlers have come out this far, seeking life away from the rule of the Nyctans and the tyranny of the Dagons, both of which they find to be oppressive regimes. But only smugglers, space pirates, and a host of intrepid frontier folk call this backwater place home.”
“Sounds like the Wild West, if you ask me.”
“Wild West?” asked Galahad.
“It was a time of lawlessness for my people; an entire region populated by survivalists and speculators. Everyone fought for survival and laid claim to their own space. They relied only on themselves to get by.”
“Sounds very similar to the Zargora system and the few outcroppings of colonies that exist around the four quads.”
Before Galahad managed to finish his explanation, an alarm sounded and one of the bridge officers looked up. “Sirs, we have another ship entering the system.”
“Is it Dagon?” Jegra asked.
The officer glanced down at his panel. “No, it appears to be a freighter. But it’s heavily modified.”
Jegra shot Galahad a confused look.
“Space Pirates,” he informed her. After a brief pause, he asked, “Your orders, Sub Commander?”
“Advise me. What is the standard protocol when dealing with space pirates?”
“Blow them out of the water, ma’am,” the officer relayed.
She shot Galahad a startled look to which he merely shrugged. “He’s not wrong.”
Jegra scratched her chin. Then settled on what she wanted to do. “Jam their comms, I don’t want them alerting the Dagon fleet of our presence. Then scan their ship.”
“Ma’am?” the officer asked, puzzled.
“Are you questioning the commander?” Galahad growled.
“No, sir,” the officer replied, swiveling back in his chair and running the scan as ordered. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” the officer replied.
Without warning, although not entirely unexpectedly, the pirate vessel opened fire on the Nyctan battlecruiser. Even though it was no match for them, their disruptors were amped up enough to cause a small shuddering as they pinged off the electromagnetic shields.
“Is he an idiot?” Jegra asked.
“Most pirates are,” Galahad answered. “They only care about their booty. He probably thinks we dropped into the system to plunder his trinkets.”
Firing on a Nyctan destroyer unprovoked was a death sentence in and of itself. Only a fool would do such a thing.
“Hail them,” she said.
“Comm channels are open, ma’am.”
“This is Sub Commander Jegra Alakandra of the Nyctan battle cruiser Light Bringer. Cease firing immediately and state your business. This will be your first and final warning.”
The bulky pirate ship slowly turned toward them and then began unloading everything it had. The Light Bringer shuddered briefly and Jegra rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.
Seeing as the pirates didn’t want to play nice or respond to her attempts to open a dialog with them, she figured she had no real choice but to do it the Nyctan way. “If it’s a death wish they have, then who are we to deny them it? Target that ship and fire.”
“Yes, ma’am!” the officer said in a cheerful manner. He pushed a few red and orange buttons on his display and the ship’s forward disruptor canons fired.
The pirate ship exploded off the port bow and dissolved into glistening space debris that gently arched across a black sky and would, eventually, join the aste
roid belt.
Jegra put her arms behind her back and thought for a moment. “Galahad,” she said, calling her Knight to her side.
“Yes, mistress?”
“Is the third wing of the Nyctan fleet still in orbit over Dagon?”
“Yes. But the cease fire brokered by Emperor Dakroth means they are merely a wasted resource. We cannot engage the enemy unless fired upon.”
“I have an idea,” Jegra said, her grin slowly curling into a vicious smile. “Order the third wing to jump to the Zargora system. I think it’s time I blow the cover on my dear husband’s little ploy.”
Within the hour the third fleet arrived. Jegra smiled as ship after ship popped into view. She sauntered over to the large captain’s chair and sat down.
“What now, commander?” Galahad asked.
“How long would it take to disguise our disrupters to look like Dagon disruptors?” She looked down at the officer.
“Let’s see … some minor energy tweaks … removing the cooling dampeners … I’d say about two hours.”
“Good. Get on it. I want our front canons firing red instead of green.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer said, leaping up and carrying out his orders.
“I think I see where you’re going with this,” Galahad said.
Jegra shot him a stern look. “There’s a reason he wanted to call the cease fire. Obviously, he’s losing the war on all fronts.” She turned and looked out at the long line of ships under her command. “But he’s dedicated half of his fleet to protecting something in the Zargora system and I intend to find out what that is.”
Jegra rose out of her chair and gestured to Galahad to take a seat. “I’m headed to my quarters for a later supper. The bridge is yours.”
He complied and she left the bridge and wandered down the hall to her personal quarters. They were smaller than her royal suite aboard the Nyctan flagship, the Omikran. But Jegra wasn’t complaining.
She passed a Knight in the hall and nodded. The Knight nodded back. She paused briefly and looked back over her shoulder. “Wait,” she called out.
The Knight stopped and turned around.
“You look familiar,” she said.
“The name is Percival, ma’am. We’ve met once before.”
Jegra squinted hard as she studied his face. “Oh, my God! You’re the Knight I fought with on Cordova.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, bowing his head.
“I’m glad to see you’re unharmed,” she said.
“I appreciate that,” Percival replied. “But you should know I’ve taken a lot of flak for being beaten by a woman without a power suit in single-handed combat.”
“I’m sure you have,” Jegra said, grinning ear to ear. “Just tell your buddies that if anyone of them had gone up against me, their outcome would have been the same.”
“I’ll do that,” he replied, smiling back at her.
She nodded her head and then let him carry on with his duties.
When she finally got to her quarters she found Ellia waiting for her there. “Oh, you’re here,” Jegra said to her unexpected guest.
“Yes, mistress,” Ellia replied. “I was assigned to be your personal servant aboard this ship.”
“What about the others?” Jegra asked.
“They have other duties they must attend to aboard the Omikran. I, however, am rather low on the totem pole in both rank and social standing.”
The doors slammed shut behind Jegra and she shuffled over to a large chair and sat herself down. “Help me get this armor off,” she said.
Ellia did as requested and as soon as Jegra emerged from the armor she took a whiff of her armpits and made a sour face. “I’m going to go hit the showers,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder.
Ellia simply nodded and watched Jegra saunter off. Before she left the main bedroom, Jegra leaned back and glanced over her shoulder at Ellia.
“You care to join me?” Jegra asked, tossing her brown hair across her shoulder as she started unzipping her smart-suit.
“Only if it is what you desire, mistress Jegra.”
“You’re good at massages, right?”
“I am a skilled masseuse, yes.”
“Then get undressed and get your cute little butt over here,” Jegra ordered, pointing at her heels as she ordered Ellia to come to her.
“Yes, mistress,” Ellia replied. She began to strip her clothes off as she came and Jegra smiled.
Ellia’s white skin glistened in the humidity of the shower, and the blue freckled pattern ran all the way down her neck, sides, and thighs right on down to her ankles. Jegra thought she looked rather fetching, but she also seemed on the young side.
Although, to be honest, Jegra hadn’t a clue what her servant’s age might be. Aliens all seemed to age at different rates on other worlds depending on how dense their planet was, how far out from their host star, and how long it took for the planet to do one revolution in a year.
After a fifteen-minute massage in the shower, Jegra let out a subtle, yet audible moan.
“I can stop, if I’m hurting you,” Ellia said, rubbing her thumbs across Jegra’s shoulder blades.
“No, keep going. That was a good moan. Harder, if you can.”
“I can,” Ellia said, jamming her fingers into Jegra’s back as hard as she could as she worked out all the kinks.
Even though it was forbidden, Jegra knew it would be so easy to order Ellia to sleep with her. But she liked Ellia and she knew that using her position of authority over the girl would be wrong. So, she enjoyed the massage and tried to get to know the girl.
“Ellia,” Jegra asked, “have you ever been in love?”
“I love my God, mistress.”
“Sorry … I meant, like, a proper romantic interest.”
“I am not allowed to socialize freely,” she answered. “I lack the social standing to engage in normal social functions. My duties, my service, and my faith are all that I am.”
“So, there’s never been a boy or other girl you have taken a liking to?”
“If you mean, have I had impure thoughts about anyone, there was this one time … I dreamed about Sir Galahad.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jegra asked, raising and eyebrow and cocking her head to better glimpse the embarrassed look on Ellia’s face. Jegra was thirsty to know more. So, she prodded a bit. “By all means, do tell. I’d love to hear more about it.”
Ellia shrugged. “I suppose I can tell you, seeing as you’re my mistress. And, it was just a dream, after all.”
Jegra nodded in silence and grinned.
“It was a couple of days before your arrival. I dreamed that Galahad and I were at the Vestian Falls on Nyctan, bathing together in the glowing pools below a foamy spray of water. The pools of Vestia glow iridescent blue from the unique algae that grows there. It’s quite beautiful.” She let out a sigh of longing and paused for a bit.
“And did you make love to him? In your dream, I mean.”
“No. It was so much better. We held each other and gazed into one another’s eyes the whole evening. Saying nothing but sharing our minds and souls. I felt his spirit touch mine. It was the most amazing dream I’ve ever had.”
It didn’t sound all that appealing to Jegra, just gazing at someone. All night. But, to each their own, she thought. Still, curiosity gripped her. There had to be some juicy detail that had been omitted. Something more scandalous than a staring contest and souls touching, or whatever. “I assume that, in your dream, you were naked together, right?”
“Yes,” Ellia said bashfully. She looked away as though Jegra’s attentive gaze was too much to bear and her typically porcelain white cheeks glowed bright pink from her embarrassment and the deep sense of shame she experienced for having had such impure thoughts about Galahad, even though it was no fault of her own.
“Well, there you go!” Jegra said.
“Please, don’t tell him,” Ellia pleaded, her face turning whiter than usual. She seemed on the v
erge of bursting into tears just at the mere thought of her secret getting out. “I would literally die if you told him anything of what I just said.”
Jegra didn’t quite know if what she had just said was simply a figure of speech or if her punishment would literally be death. She didn’t press the girl any further, however, for fear it might be too stressful for her. “Don’t worry, girl talk stays amongst the girls.”
“But you are a woman, mistress.”
Jegra sighed. “Yes. What I meant was, I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.”
“Oh, I see,” Ellia replied, blushing again.
“By the way, if you don’t mind my asking, how old are you, Ellia?”
“I’m twenty-one revolutions old.”
“How many days is a revolution on Nyctan?”
“One revolution around our star takes 581 days.”
“That’s almost twice of what my planet is. So, you’re like, 40 years old in Earth years or something?”
“I suppose,” Ellia said, giving a shrug.
“But you look so young! I honestly thought you were a teenager. A mere child.”
“I suppose that, in many ways, mistress, I am still a child. Regardless, we Nyctans have long lifespans. The oldest living Nyctan, you might like to know, is 183 revolutions old.”
Jegra counted on her fingers as she tried to do that math. “You’re shitting me?!” Jegra gasped, realizing that it was over 300 Earth years old.
Ellia was about to ask a question and, by the confused look on her face, Jegra knew that it was probably going to be about what shit had to do with any of it. To avoid having to explain yet another idiom to her, Jegra quickly got a word off before Ellia could ask her question.
“Nyctan women don’t have vestigial penises, do they?” she asked, glancing at Ellia’s naked body.
Ellia looked down at the blue tuft of hair between her slender white legs and then back up at Jegra. “Not that I’m aware of,” she laughed.
“Dagon women do,” Jegra said. It was true too. Apparently, the male sex organ, which could retract up into the vulva, was a vestigial trait from a bygone era. Jegra wasn’t clear about the details. But it never had bothered her. People were people no matter what their anatomy might be. And if you enjoyed someone, it was because you enjoyed being with them. Not because they had a more or less complicated anatomy than you did.
