The Galactic Empress' Bodyguard

by Ben Harrington

  The other half of the room were a mix: some humans, some insects, some dinosaurs, some... really hard to describe. The humans were the ones he could read most easily, and their faces said it all: they were scared, sure, but they were annoyed about it. Somebody had warned the Empress not to stand in a crowd, and she'd done it anyway, and everything had gone to shit.

  A trio of humans in the corner with ash-white skin were staring at Colton. And not in a nice way. Given his experience so far, he felt a strong urge to headshot them all before things got hairy... but then that might just make things hairier. One of them delivered a very clear scowl. Colton showed him what a real scowl looks like.

  "Councillors, please," called Deo'ta, stepping to the head of the table with his arms out. "Quiet, please."

  The crowd listened, but not very well; there were still a few whispered conversations going on around the room, and it was clear they had no intention of stopping.

  Deo'ta bowed respectfully, and said: "Her Majesty wishes to speak."

  Now the room got silent. Colton almost laughed at how sudden it was.

  The Empress glided forward — were those legs of hers optional? — and stopped at the pinnacle of the table, which Colton realized was shaped like a long leaf, with her at one tip, and the ring of fire at the other. It felt like a threat to dissenters, somehow. It was good design.

  The Empress spoke: "We wish to assure you, we are unharmed by the day's events," she said, and a good portion of the crowd seemed to do a little prayer of thanks at the news. "The assassins are dead. All of them. And their accomplices will be punished severely."

  "What accomplices?" asked someone in the back of the room, and everyone else shifted uncomfortably, like they really didn't want to be lumped in with trouble-makers.

  The Empress's head twitched ever so slightly, but Colton couldn't tell if that meant she was irked, or just switching her gaze.

  Deo'ta stepped forward to answer: "We have leads to follow, your honor. Evidence left behind by the assassins—"

  "Like the evidence from last time? The planted evidence?"

  Deo'ta winced at that; it was a sensitive subject. "I assure you, due diligence will be employed before—"

  "Declare martial law," said someone else, and the room shifted again. "Enough posturing. Do it."

  Deo'ta shook his head: "Martial law will be seen as an over-reaction to the normal growing pains of any royal ascension, and—"

  "They could have killed us!" boomed another voice, and there was a murmur of agreement from around the room. Deo'ta was losing control. Colton wished he had more bullets.

  "Lock down the colonies and remind them who's in charge!" shouted someone else.

  Now one of the squids turned around to face his fellow Councillors; his tentacles spread outward in what was a pretty clear show of anger: "Which colonies should we lock down, I wonder?"

  A round and burly human stepped forward, his face turning red: "If you would show your kind some discipline, it wouldn't come to that, would it?"

  The squid's tentacles vibrated; anger was giving way to fury. "Come closer and I'll show you discipline, you stubby-armed little—"

  "Enough!" shouted the Empress, and the whole room went silent again.

  She tipped her head forward, let out a long sigh. Then, out from among her tentacles, came... two hands. They reached up, took the sides of her box-veil, and lifted it off her head, and—

  Colton gasped despite himself.

  The Empress wasn't a squid at all: she was human. And a stunning one at that. Her hair was braided up, removing whatever might distract from her face. The curve of her lips, her jawline, the way her eyes somehow shone through the chaos of the room around her, and made everything feel safe.

  She undid the clasp at her sternum, and the collar, cloak, and all the (apparently fake) tentacles slid off her shoulders, onto a heap at her feet. Beneath all that puffery, she was slim and tall, perfectly-proportioned... no, distractingly proportioned. Her clothes were form-fitting, shiny and shimmery in a way that was both elegant and showy. High-collared, long-sleeved, and a slim skirt all the way down to her feet, like a military uniform and a ball gown all in one. She was the center of attention, and she deserved it.

  She raised her head, and the whole room lowered theirs. "We will not be swayed from our mission," she said with the conviction of someone who knew the price of failure. "There will be no martial law. There will be no recrimination. And there will be no more mistakes."

  She stepped out from the cloak at her feet, stood even taller, chest out, eyes narrow. No one in the room saw it but Colton — eyes averted and all that — but they could clearly feel what she was doing, because they all shrank back a little more.

  "Spread the word," she said, voice trembling with righteous fury. "All those who oppose the Empire will suffer. Greatly." She shook her head to herself. "We wish for nothing more than for peace and prosperity for all. But that does not mean we are afraid to strike back."

  Every soul in the room bowed deeply at this, showing their obedience to their Empress. Colton felt a little out of place, being the only other one standing, but there was no way he was taking his eye off the prize after the day he'd had.

  A door at the side of the room slid open (again, out of nowhere) and a waifish servant scrambled in, over to Deo'ta, and whispered in his ear. His expression went severe, and he motioned to Colton: time to go. Colton stepped up, next to the Empress, ready to move.

  Deo'ta leaned in toward her and Colton could overhear him say: "Your brother has been captured."

  10

  The Empress' brother looked nothing like her, which was odd. Human, sure, but his features were thicker, stubbier, less refined. He looked like the kind of guy you'd share a beer (or twenty) with, and he'd pick up a car in the parking lot, and talk about the time he wrestled a bear... but he definitely wouldn't reveal he was royalty in a galactic empire.

  His hands were bound with what looked like giant-sized version of Deo'ta's marble-and-sticks. One hand in each marble, weighing him down; he wasn't going anywhere fast.

  The Empress sat on her throne at the center of the room — a smaller affair, and the same plain design Colton was used to — while her brother stood alone, miserable and seething.

  "Ryvik," she said, observing him with an unhappy squint to her eyes, "you were missed at the coronation."

  Ryvik, her brother, laughed at that. "I thought it best to steer clear," he said. "What with our family's penchant for misplacing younger siblings."

  "So you misplaced yourself," she replied. "And luckily, that kept you from being one of the victims of the bombing."

  Ryvik shrugged. "Absence has its perks."

  The Empress leaned to the side of the throne, crossed her legs, bobbing one foot up and down, up and down. Casual like only a predator could be. "We had a nice assignment picked out for you, you know. A planet to oversee, a treasury at your command. A fiefdom of your own."

  "At the Poles, no doubt," Ryvik sneered.

  "No," said the Empress, "at the capital."

  Ryvik looked up, shocked. Colton was trying to keep up with the conversation, and while it certainly wasn't easy-going, he understood "capital." And Ryvik's expression.

  "Our father made me promise to keep you safe, brother," she said. "But I would have done it anyway. I loved you, brother. I trusted you. And you betrayed me."

  Ryvik shook his head: it was clear where this was headed, and it wasn't going to be pretty. "No, Ilina, no, I swear—"

  Suddenly, the marbles at Ryvik's hands jolted with electricity, and he was brought to his knees, gasping through the pain until the surging stopped. He collapsed onto his side, tears flooding from his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

  "You shall address the Empress by her rightful title," warned Deo'ta.

  "M-my," wheezed Ryvik. "My apologies,
your Majesty."

  Colton side-eyed Deo'ta. For a wispy lanky dude, he was effective. The Empress seemed unfazed by what just happened. She was continuing on as before:

  "We have evidence tying you to the assassination attempts," she said. "Weapons from your armory, money traced to your offworld accounts. A message sent by your chief of staff to one of the perpetrators an hour before the bombs went off."

  Ryvik shook his head emphatically. "No, your Majesty. I didn't... I wouldn't..."

  The Empress stood, tugged at the bottom of her slimline jacket to set it straight, and then prowled closer to her brother, who was struggling to get back to his knees. He kept his gaze down. He was learning.

  "You'll never be Emperor, Ryvik. You must know that. Even if you do kill me, you'll never be Emperor."

  "Y-your Majesty, I—"

  "You don't have the support of the council," she said. "You don't have the support of the midlands. You don't have the support of anyone that matters." She took his chin in her hands, angled his head up to meet hers. "You know why I was granting you the capital, Ryvik? Because no one else would have you."

  Ryvik's biceps tensed. Colton could see it, but nobody else seemed to notice. The marble-cuffs were heavy, but not that heavy... something else was brewing. The Empress' brother kept his eyes downcast, playing the obedient servant. But there was something else brewing.

  "I can forgive jealousy," said the Empress. "I can forgive many things. But when you strike at me, Ryvik, you strike at the Empire. And the Empire cannot forgive treason."

  Rvyik's muscles tensed again, and his jaw clenched.

  Those marbles were heavy, and big enough to crack a skull. With the right angle, with just a few seconds to act, he could break her neck and make sure the job was done.

  The Empress was standing too close. Far too close.

  Colton couldn't risk it.

  "You are hereby sentenced to—" was all she got out before Colton grabbed her by the arm and jerked her backward, just as Ryvik—

  —prostrated himself at her feet. He was weeping, sobbing: "Please, no! I swear, I didn't—"

  But the Empress was less interested in what her brother was saying, and more interested in what Colton had done. She glared at his hand on her arm, and then at him.

  He let her go, but forgot to not make eye contact... which only incensed her more. She turned her head toward Deo'ta, who immediately rushed in between them, ushering Colton from the room while the Empress listened to her brother beg for his life.

  11

  Colton was led to a quiet end of the never-ending hallway, and deposited there like a kid who'd been scolded for throwing a fit in the grocery store. He pulled free of Deo'ta's grip, fixed his tie, his jacket, and bit his tongue.

  "You need to be more careful, Captain," warned Deo'ta. "The Empress can forgive contact in extreme circumstances, but that—"

  "That could have been extreme circumstances," Colton said. "I mean Jesus, does she even understand the danger she's in? I've only been here a few hours, and the lay of the land is pretty obvious, isn't it? Everyone wants her dead."

  "Be that as it may," said Deo'ta, "rules are rules. If there had been any witnesses to your transgression, we would have no recourse but to punish you."

  "By having me executed?"

  "Unfortunately, yes."

  "That's just great. The one guy trying to keep the Empress alive, and you'd punish me for doing my job?"

  "As I said, in extreme circumstances—"

  "He was about to attack her!"

  Deo'ta clearly disagreed. "Prince Ryvik is many things, but physical is not one of them."

  Colton laughed. "The guy's built like a tank."

  "Genetic enhancements, I assure you. His hands have never lifted anything heavier than a wine glass."

  "So what am I supposed to do? I can't act until shots are actually fired? I have to be completely sure the danger is real? Because that's a recipe for disaster. A recipe for a dead Empress."

  Deo'ta took a sharp breath, stepped closer, to speak in confidence. "It is a challenging assignment, I know..."

  "This isn't challenging," said Colton. "This is fucked up. And why am I the only one working this beat? We need more than one set of eyes here."

  Deo'ta shook his head. "Impossible."

  "You picked me up from another planet," Colton said. "I think you can manage."

  "You don't understand, Captain. Four of her last bodyguards were killed—"

  "Yeah, you said."

  "—by the other two. One of the traitors was part of the Uular Guard, an elite fighting force that isolates itself from the outside world until a member is chosen for an assignment. If an Uular can be turned, anyone can be turned."

  It felt like high school football all over again, to Colton: someone else's old mistakes weighing him down, kicking his ass and forcing him into a corner. Thing was: going from a last-place team to champions is a lot easier than overcoming corruption and murder spanning an entire fucking galaxy.

  "So why me?" he asked. "How do you know you can trust me?"

  Deo'ta smiled. "Because you were on trial for murder," he said. "And no sane person in my position would choose such a person to guard the Empress... which meant it was highly unlikely anyone had approached you. You were a non-entity to them."

  "I was kinda hoping you were going to say I had integrity or something."

  "Ah. Well. Perhaps next time."

  "Fucker."

  Deo'ta started walking further down the hall, and it was clear Colton was meant to follow. Gradually, over the course of several yards, the walls developed more definition, more texture. And, Colton noticed, there were plants growing on them, like vines or moss or something similar. It was like they were descending into a forest, but a forest with a low ceiling.

  "Captain," Deo'ta said, "I feel obliged to warn you of another issue you may face."

  "Great. Another issue."

  "This one is unique to you, I'm afraid." He paused, trying to find the right words. "You may, over the course of your stay here, run into some... negative reactions to your heritage."

  "My heritage?"

  "Earth," said Deo'ta, and the way he said it sounded like he was describing a venereal disease. "It is not, shall we say, well-regarded in the Empire."

  "Well that's OK, because we don't even know the Empire exists."

  "There's a reason for that," said Deo'ta. "Our past experiences with Earth-humans has been less than optimal. Quick to temper, ruthless fighters, and not especially civilized."

  "Listen, not everyone's from Kansas—"

  "It's a prejudice," said Deo'ta. "An unfair one. But a prejudice nonetheless. And you may find it colors your experiences with other races here. Especially the human variety."

  Colton didn't understand, and it showed on his face. "Why wouldn't they—"

  "Humans have been fighting to achieve a certain stature within the Empire," Deo'ta said. "It has taken them several thousand years to go from a factional minority to the seat of power, but it is a precarious position, and one undermined by the behavior of sister-races such as yours."

  "So you're saying I should avoid taking a shit in the throne room."

  "I'm saying I trust you," Deo'ta said, very emphatically. "But I am also saying you should expect that no one else will. Be prepared for it, and act accordingly."

  Colton nodded. "Thanks, Deo'ta. I actually do appreciate the heads-up." But then another thought tweaked in his brain: "You said it's taken them thousands of years... like you're not human, too."

  Deo'ta stopped, cocked his head to the side with the most curious look on his face. "I forgot you are not from here. The subtleties must evade you."

  "What subtleties?"

  Deo'ta's eyelids flickered shut, then open. Except not his normal eyelids... a second
set, inside the first, going out-to-in. Like a fucking animal. Suddenly Colton noticed other aspects of Deo'ta appearance that, in context, seemed entirely different: his skin was a little scaly, his fingers were a little over-long, his mouth was wide like a gecko, and—

  "Shit," said Colton. "You're a lizard?"

  Deo'ta laughed. "Best not to use that word here," he said. "It is quite insulting to a good quarter of the citizens of the Empire."

  Colton took that into consideration. He was taking a lot into consideration lately, and it was starting to give him a headache. He'd had all of, what, ten seconds to appreciate he wasn't on Earth anymore... and then another ten to wrap his mind around aliens, around a galactic empire, around protocol and rules and power dynamics and so much else. And then there was the shooting.

  No wonder he felt like roadkill.

  Deo'ta seemed to notice. "You've had a long day," he said.

  "Didn't get much sleep last night, either," he said, remembering Marshal Weyland and resisting the urge to spit. "Been a whirlwind."

  Deo'ta nodded, patted his shoulder. "I will see you to your quarters, then," he said. "The Empress will be locked in her study for the night — as she has done every night since her ascension — so she will be safe."

  "What's her study got that makes you so sure?"

  "Genetically-encoded laser fields. Anything but the Empress is incinerated on contact."

  "Nifty," said Colton.

  "Indeed," said Deo'ta. "If we could convince her to stay there forever, life would be much simpler."

  Colton laughed, patted Deo'ta on the back as they walked. "Fuck simple. If you ain't living, you're as good as dead."

  12

  The entire space was about the size of his bathroom at home, which made it downright spacious compared to other places he'd slept, on duty. Plus, there were four walls, and a roof, and a bed that wasn't made of dirt. Luxurious, that's what it was. Luxury for servants.