by Tristan Vick
“Who hired this assassin?” Onelle followed up as she slowly removed the rifle from her back. She held it in her hands in a ready posture in case she needed to use it, but Jegra merely looked away.
“Emperor Dakroth,” she murmured under her breath. “He was getting back at me for having taken a liking to Abethca. Apparently, he isn’t too fond of competition.”
Onelle threw the disruptor rifle down onto a table with some other junk. It all rattled about and, without a care of how it ended up, she stalked off to a nearby control panel. She reached out and let her fingers glide across the surface as she looked over some technical schematics.
“How long have you been stranded here?” Jegra asked.
The Bre’lal woman brushed a lock of green hair out of her eyes and stared at the charts without responding for the longest time. Jegra almost thought she’d been so deep in concentration she hadn’t heard her, but then she spoke. “Three months, two weeks, and seven days.” Looking back up, she glanced out the main view portal at the valley below. “Luckily I crashed here. It seems this is the only spot that the nuclear winds don’t reach.”
“Nuclear winds?” Jegra asked in a startled voice.
“This valley is all that remains of a nuclear holocaust.”
“But I only saw dinosaurs down there. Are you saying there were other beings too?”
There are some ruins about seventy kilometers northeast of here. But I didn’t dare seek them out as it’s far too dangerous. Once I got the ship’s scanners back online, I did a preliminary survey of the topography of this place. Outside the reach of the oasis, it’s chaos. Nothing much survives for very long. Lucky for you that you crashed on the adjacent mountain range. If you had wandered off the back side, however, you would have seen a radiation spike and then nothing for days. Eventually, the radiation poisoning would have killed you. That’s why I was racing toward you. I needed to get to you before anything else did, including radiation sickness.”
“I appreciate that. I do.” Jegra looked over at Onelle’s green face and smiled.
“With your help, I can finally get this shuttle’s engines running again. And once we free this ship, we’ll be able to get off this hellish rock.”
“If you get me off of this rock,” Jegra added, “I’ll use my position as empress to see to it that you’ll never need for anything again.” She started unfastening the heavier parts of her armor and set it on a nearby console. Being as high as they were, with no way in or out except for the ship’s hatch, she knew they were safe.
“That’s not necessary,” Onelle, said, waving her hand as if to decline the offer. “Besides, I’m richer than you are.”
Jegra raised an eyebrow as she bent down and slid off her shin guards. “You’re kidding me?”
“No, I own two whole mining sectors and all the entertainment zones on Arkadia and Kree’alek. And unlike Dakroth’s tight-knit little empire, my trade is open to both Nyctans and Correlians alike.”
“Impressive,” Jegra said, eyeing Onelle Te’Legra Agnar up and down. She liked other strong women; their confidence allowed them to be unpretentious and straightforward, yet there was always more to them than met the eye. It was only the shallow ones, with their superficial aspirations, who pretended to be more than they were, yet they hoped for pathetically small rewards.
Jegra played with the ends of her hair and glanced down at the schematics that held Onelle’s attention. “What is it you need me to do?” she asked.
Onelle smiled. “The work can begin tomorrow. Tonight we eat and drink.”
Onelle walked over to the satchel she’d tossed to the side and opened the flap. Reaching in, she pulled out a teal, smooth-skinned lizard the size of a turkey and, holding it by its tail, plopped it down on a nearby console. On the same console was a portable gas stove, similar to those used for camping and outdoor barbecues.
A flint sparked and Onelle lit the gas stove. Reaching down, she withdrew a knife from the leather sheath on her thigh and twirled it in her hand, then began carving the animal. “I’m afraid it’s not much,” she said, pausing briefly to look over at Jegra, “but it beats starving to death.”
Half an hour later, the lizard meat was sizzling in a cast iron skillet with onion sauce and a side order of what seemed to be green-colored yams. “Here,” she said in a proud voice, handing Jegra a platter of the meal she’d prepared.
Jegra raised an eyebrow as she took the sizzling platter of lizard steak from Onelle. “Looks perfect. I’m famished.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Onelle looked at Jegra as though nothing were out of the ordinary, but seconds later she closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed.
“Is something wrong?” Jegra asked.
“No. It’s just…” Onelle paused and waved her hand around the room as though she were trying to swat down a deviant fly. “This place. I can’t really explain it. It’s like being held under water and then brought up just long enough to catch your first breath, but not enough to replenish you. You know?”
“What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger,” Jegra recited. A mantra she lived by when she was taking her licks as a rookie in the arena.
Onelle smiled. “I can see why my sister was so fascinated by you. You have an unwavering optimism about you. Some people might call it naïveté.”
“And which are you? Naive, or optimistic?”
Onelle squinted at Jegra, having gotten cornered by her own carelessness. She chose to ignore the question and changed the subject. “Did you know that she’d become so obsessed with you that she rejoined the IGS? The very organization she’d spent a decade trying to get away from. But for you, she freely signed herself up for a champion’s bout.” She held a piece of steak up on the end of her fork, bit down on it, and smiled at Jegra as she chewed.
“She was pretty intense, I’ll give you that much.”
“My entire family line is intense,” Onelle shared openly. She crossed her legs and looked at Jegra with a long, deliberate gaze, studying her every detail, then took another bite.
“Answer me this,” Jegra said, using her royal language to get a response out of Onelle, “what kind of woman, a woman who owns half of the trade route in the Commonwealth and is wealthier than the Empress of the Dagon Empire, ends up being a courtesan on the side?”
“The Dagons aren’t the only promiscuous species in the galaxy. Most species cannot afford to be as selective as yours. The harsh conditions they evolved under on their own worlds prohibits anything like monogamous marriage or partnership. My species fucks first and then decides later if they’re compatible with the other.”
“It seems you know an awful lot about my species,” Jegra said, stroking her chin suspiciously.
“After I got wind of Abethca’s death, I suspected you might be involved somehow. So, I did my research.”
“Makes sense,” Jegra answered, taking it all in.
Onelle continued with her story about how she became to be the titan of two seemingly unrelated industries. “At first, being a courtesan was more lucrative than my trading business, but then I bought my first abandoned asteroid mine, hoping to transform it into a luxury resort and casino. We accidentally tapped a new vein of korridium during the refit, however, and I instantly made several billion credits. Subsequently, I bought every derelict mine on the market to try and replicate my success.”
“Did it work?” Jegra asked, having grown fully invested in Onelle Te’Legra Agnar’s story.
“Sometimes. When we could mine, we mined. When we couldn’t we converted the asteroids into luxury resorts and floating casinos all up and down the golden trade route. And business has been booming ever since. But somewhere down the line I felt that I’d spent all this time building an empire and had nothing to show for it but a fat bank account. My longing for companionship, something so ingrained in my species, never subsided. So, I decided to throw the gala of the century and invited my best clientele. I really don’t know what I was th
inking at the time; perhaps that I’d meet that one elusive person; more likely I just thought that if I couldn’t be happy, perhaps I could make others happy. The party was a sensational success; one thing led to another and now, here I am. Entrepreneur, titan of industry, and head courtesan and mistress to the most successful entertainment and gambling venture this side of the Commonwealth.”
“So how exactly did you cross paths with Dakroth?”
“After I began investigating you, learning everything there was to know about you, I only turned up dead ends. I couldn’t understand why until I began investigating your husband. That’s when I hit the jackpot. I uncovered all kinds of secretive deals and projects, shady ventures he didn’t want anybody shedding light on. He sent his red-skinned assassin after me.”
“Ishtar,” Jegra growled as though her name was a dirty curse word.
“She ambushed me as I was returning to Arkadia. My shuttle had come under heavy fire when, out of nowhere, a whole fleet of those squids jumped into the sector. I nearly collided with one of them. It seemed perhaps our disruptor exchange startled them in return, for they jumped out of the system almost as quickly as they’d jumped in.”
“And they took you along with them.”
She nodded. “The next thing I know, my systems have shorted and I’m barreling down toward this cliff face. I’ve been marooned here ever since.”
“You’re lucky you survived the crash and in one piece.” Jegra took a seat at one of the science stations and used the darkened console as a makeshift table. Slowly cutting a chunk of steak off, she examined the meat, then took it with her teeth and began chewing, her mind still grappling with the fact that there was actually another survivor on this barren world.
Onelle settled in beside her, taking a seat on a cargo crate, and resumed eating, too.
They ate in silence, sharing a sideways glance now and again, assessing the other just to be sure they were in good company. Once they’d finished their food, Jegra let out a loud belch. The sound pierced the silence as it echoed up and down the length of the ship’s corridor.
Embarrassed, she instantly covered her mouth, and excused herself. “Pardon me, I’m so sorry,” She said into a closed fist which she held to her mouth just in case another burp tried to escape. Her cheeks flushed rosy pink as she looked over at Onelle apologetically.
“It’s quite all right,” Onelle replied. “It’s only natural.” She then let out an equally loud burp and both women looked at each other in a moment of shared shock and then began laughing. It was a nice way to break up the tension.
“I am feeling rather bushwhacked, so I think I’ll turn in for the evening,” Jegra said, looking around the ship’s bridge for a place to recline and sleep.
“The only available bed is in my personal quarters,” Onelle informed her guest. “But you’re the empress, so feel free to take it if you wish. I’ll be fine out here.” Onelle threw her feet up on the console and leaned back on the crate so her back pressed against the ship’s bulkhead, and locking her hands behind her head she closed her eyes.
“Nonsense,” Jegra said. “I’ll have you know I’m no prude. I’d be more than happy to share a bed with you.”
“Are you sure?” Onelle asked.
“Perfectly,” Jegra replied.
“All right then,” Onelle said, rising to her feet. “Bedroom’s this way.”
The sleeping quarters were no bigger than a bathroom. A sonic shower, a small folding cot to one side, and a shelf with some old books on the wall opposite the cot filled the tight space. The two women both squeezed through the doorway together, and laughed as their bodies pressed tightly against one another, causing them to get wedged in the doorway. They laughed, finally tumbling into the confined space.
Jegra reclined on the bed, and Onelle climbed under one of Jegra’s raised legs and settled in on the opposite side of the cot.
“Comfortable?” Onelle asked, her legs tangling up with Jegra’s in a surprisingly intimate position that seemed more comfortable than it did weird.
“Surprisingly, yes,” Jegra laughed.
This solicited another round of laughter and they quickly looked away from one another when it became clear there was an undeniable physical attraction between them.
“Is this how you seduce all your clients? You bring them to a bedroom so small they have no choice but to mash themselves against you? Are you a masher, Mistress Onelle?” inquired Jegra with a dubious grin.
She laughed. “Let’s just say with the ship’s power supplying essential and emergency systems only, at least we won’t freeze to death.” She sat down on the bed and gestured for Jegra to get comfortable next to her. Jegra sat down beside her and Onelle reached around Jegra and, with some effort, slid the door shut. The room dimmed to near darkness except for the small emergency lamp above the door and Onelle leaned back into the bed. “Can I ask you something?” Onelle finally inquired.
“Sure, go ahead,” Jegra said, snuggling up against the Bre’lal woman. They spooned quite comfortably in the cramped quarters. “I’m an open book.”
“Do you love him? The emperor, I mean.”
“I used to think so, briefly. But what I saw in him as a glimmer of kindness was merely his attempt to manipulate me into sleeping with him. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I fell for it. And, now, because of his treachery and scheming, here I am.”
“So, you’d have no qualms if, say, a powerful woman like me decided to take Dakroth’s head and place it on a pike for all the Commonwealth to see?” Her voice grew cold and vicious. Almost sinister.
“Not only wouldn’t I have any qualms, I’d gladly help you do it.”
Onelle pulled Jegra’s arm down and wrapped it around her and squeezed it affectionately. “You know something, I just might be madly in love with you right now.”
Jegra laughed. “I’m literally speechless.”
It was Onelle’s turn to laugh, and she did so as if by habit. Talking to Jegra felt like talking to a long-lost sister, and she was a little surprised at how well they clicked. “Now, get some rest, Empress,” Onelle replied drowsily, “Tomorrow will be another long day. One of many to come.”
“Sweet dreams, Onelle Te’Legra Agnar,” Jegra said, relieved to have found someone she could trust in the back waters of an uncharted and overtly hostile planet.
Jegra chuckled lightly and then let herself drift off to sleep. Onelle studied the empress’s face, dwelling on her features for a while and, then, for the first time in what seemed like ages, fell asleep with the comfort of a warm body next to her.
16
A luminous flash erupted instantaneously out of nothingness. In the blink of an eye, the Shard had manifested in the Galliforn system, home to the mighty Galliforn. This ancient race of highly advanced satyr beings had ventured into the stars and colonized three worlds: Qu’Mar, Veridion, and their homeworld, Galliforn.
These majestic worlds, along with their seven inhabitable moons, although not a part of the Commonwealth alliance, comprised the strongest independent united planetary system in charted space.
Unlike the Seyferrans, Nyctans, and Dagons, however, the satyr people of Galliforn kept primarily to themselves. Much like the Dragonian lizard race, they were highly wary of outsiders. Unlike the Dragonians, however, Emperor Dakroth’s father, Loki’Alloran Rhadamanthus Dakroth the Third, had failed in his attempt to conquer their noble race.
A never-ending sore spot for Dagon pride, the satyrs proved too cunning in their military strategy and too advanced in their technology to be so easily conquered.
Even so, the previous emperor’s campaigns had forced the satyr race to retreat from the territories of the Commonwealth, most of which was under the control of the Dagon Empire. And in the aftermath of the Loki’Alloran Dakroth’s unlawful campaigns against Galliforn, the satyrs took extra measures to safeguard their worlds from future attack, creating a vast orbital defense grid.
All three planets were protected by
automated orbital platforms equipped with high-power laser cannons capable of shooting down most vessels that dared to intrude upon their system without welcome. If you didn’t have the proper authorization or access codes, the platforms would open fire and blow you clean out of the system.
Captain Lianica Blackstar clasped both hands behind her back and looked out at the painterly swaths of orange and green nebulae that made up much of the system. An orange alert chimed and began flashing on all visible monitors and view portals.
“Report,” she said, her voice rough from another long night of binge-drinking.
One of her bridge officers turned toward his captain with a nervous look and informed her, “Ma’am, the Galliforn Space Defense Front is requesting orbital access codes. We have three minutes and thirty seconds to comply or the orbital defense grid will open fire.”
There was a long silence in which the crew grew rather tense and shared uncertain looks as Lianica contemplated her best course of action. “Hold position,” she finally said.
“Ma’am, at current we are not armed with any offensive capabilities, nor are we in possession of the access codes. The orbital defense platforms will open fire on us in two minutes and sixty-eight seconds.”
“This ship is designed to deflect a heavy laser canon from a Dreadnaught class Dagon battlecruiser. Those orbital defense platforms only yield a fraction of that kind of power. Unless they have hyper-sonic Viper class missiles, they’re no threat to us. Their lasers will simply deflect off this ship like rain gliding off treated glass.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer replied in a hesitant tone. Not wanting to cause any further trouble, he acquiesced and followed her orders regardless of how reckless they seemed.
In the middle of explaining herself, the bridge doors whisked open and shut again, briefly distracting the captain and making her irritated. Lieutenant Brei’alas, keeping her head down and eyes to the floor, scuttled up to her post.