by Tristan Vick
“That’s…not…fair!” he groaned, maintaining his impossible jack-hammer-level of pounding.
Kregor’s bulbous, lizard eyes grew overly large, his pupil’s dilated, and then, after a silent pause, his tongue flickered.
“Did you just do what I think you did?”
“No?” Kregor replied timorously, his voice sounding more like a question than a definitive answer.
“It’s fine,” Jegra laughed, grabbing the brawny Dragonian’s shoulders and pulling him into her massive chest.
She kissed him on the mouth and then smiled at him.
“I have been dying to finish what we started ever since…”
“Ever since Cordova,” he answered.
“It was nice not having any interruptions this time,” Jegra said. Kregor nodded when, as if on cue, the doorbell chimed.
Jegra and Kregor looked at the door to her quarters then back at each other. Letting out a sigh, Jegra said, “It appears I may have spoken too soon.”
Jegra took ahold of her sheet and slipped out of the covers. Wrapping the sheet around her like a toga, she went to the door and, leaning in to block the angel of her bed, she opened it.
“Sorry to bother you, Your Majesty” a youthful voice said, “But the captain was wondering if you’ve seen Kregor by any chance?”
“Gyllek!” Jegra said loudly enough for Kregor to hear all the way across the room behind her. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Gyllek brushed her bright orange hair out of her eyes and looked Jegra up and down suspiciously. “Sure,” she said in her droll monotone voice that never seemed to betray an ounce of excitement. She wasn’t the sentimental type. The only affection she had was for gadgets and strange tech. Leaning over, Gyllek tried to peek into Jegra’s chambers, but the empress leaned to the side along with her and blocked her view. The tacky grin on her face suggested she was definitely hiding something. And although Gyllek could guess exactly what, or more precisely–who it was–she didn’t want to know the details.
“I’ll tell you what, if I see him I’ll be sure to tell him Raven is looking for him.”
“Right,” Gyllek said, a touch of sarcasm tucked into her reply. “You do that.” Gyllek turned to leave but paused and turned back again. This caused Jegra to put both arms up along the door frame and pretend to stretch. Tossing her hair, she smiled at Gyllek and waited for the girl to come out with whatever it was she had on her mind. Pointing at Jegra’s sheet, she said, “FYI, I can totally see your nipples through that.”
As Gyllek turned and hurried up the hall as though nothing had happened, Jegra looked down at her chest only to discover it was true. The artificial lighting in the hallway somehow made her white sheets practically translucent. Embarrassed, she gulped loudly and then stealthily drew back into her chambers.
When Jegra turned around she found Kregor already pulling up his boxer-briefs. “I guess I’d better get going. Duty calls.”
“Did I say you were dismissed?” Jegra asked.
Kregor stopped dressing and looked up. When he shot her a puzzled look Jegra let go of the sheet and let it slip to the floor. Striking a seductive pose, she said, “Now, strip and get back into bed, big guy. I’m not finished with you yet.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied, taking a reverent bow.
Once he’d finished doing as she asked, Jegra leapt forward and tackled him onto the bed. They both tumbled into the covers, laughing as they began round two of their midnight rendezvous.
Lianica Blackstar kicked her leg up on the edge of the tub and ran the laser-shaver over her calf. The bristles of each small hair crackled as they were singed away to nothing and the smell of singed hair was counteracted by the dozen scented candles she’d placed about the entire room and along the edge of the bath.
After finishing with the other leg too, she stood up and reached for the sash of her bathrobe when, all of a sudden, the ship’s emergency alarm went off. Spinning around, Lianica marched over to the door and hit the com-link. “This is Captain Blackstar. What’s going on up there?”
“A small scout vessel has fired warning shots across the bow and has demanded we let them board.”
“They are demanding to board her majesty’s royal cruiser?” Lianica laughed. “Tell them ‘request denied.’”
Lianica slapped the com off and went back to her steaming hot bath. She reached down to unwrap herself when the ship received a startling jolt from what felt like a plasma blast.
“Grah!” she roared out in frustration, kicking her head back to let it all out. Turning back to the door, she hit the com again and said, “Return fire. And I want whoever that idiot is towed into shuttle bay two and then marched straight to the brig. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the voice on the other end replied.
Lianica looked back down at her bath one more time and then sighed. Her relaxing night off was going to have to wait.
Several minutes later, she stepped onto the bridge. Brei’alas greeted her and then, discretely, pointed at her own collar, signaling to the captain that something was wrong with hers. Lianica reached down and found that she’d missed the last hook on her mandarin collar and quickly fastened it. It seemed, maybe, her drinking was finally taking its toll on her. She quickly put it out of her mind and got back to more pressing concerns.
“Report,” she said, looking out at the vessel being reeled in by the magnetic grappling hooks.
“It’s a class nine series scout of Galliforn design,” the tactical officer said. He was an older Dagon with a hoary goatee, a chiseled physique, and a tight ponytail. “Extremely fast and agile but, usually equipped with minimal armaments. This ship, however, seems to have been heavily modified and is carrying type seven plasma disrupters.”
“Type seven?” Lianica asked. “But a ship that size doesn’t even have a fusion drive to power such a weapon.”
“This one does, apparently,” the lieutenant answered, bringing up the scans of the ship onto the main display.
After giving the scans a cursory glance, Lianica swiped her hand right and waved the schematics off the main display. The holovid flickered and the outside view of the ship being towed into shuttle bay two reappeared.
“I want two security teams down there when that ship arrives.” Turning to Brei’alas, Lianica said, “Lieutenant, Sub Commander Kolivan Dan Koreth, you’re with me.”
The older Dagon officer and Brei’alas both followed the captain off the bridge and to the grav-lift.
“Shouldn’t we inform the empress?” asked Brei’alas, her voice as meek as ever.
“I don’t want to burden the empress unless it’s absolutely necessary. She’s been through enough as of late.”
Brei’alas nodded. Kolivan, meanwhile, was the strong silent type and simply rode the lift in stoic silence.
When the trio arrived at shuttle bay two, both security teams were already in position around the small craft that sat on the middle of the platform. The Shard’s outer hull was slowly reforming as the tendrils of the microphase korridium reached out for one another like grasping fingers.
The metallic fingers locked together, forming a tight mesh, and then the air gaps quickly disappeared as the liquid metal smoothed itself out and became solid again.
Captain Lianica motioned both security teams to train their weapons on the entrance. Five of her men were taking up positions along the second story balcony railing as overwatch, and about half the security team on the main deck took cover behind crates and equipment.
Lianica wasn’t going to take any chances with security. Not this time. Not after Ishtar Bantu infiltrated Jegra’s ship at the battle for Sector B-13 and certainly not after the debacle with Onelle Agnar who had, unfortunately, killed ensign Dree’alek on this very same hangar deck.
After taking their positions, Lianica Blackstar stepped out onto the hangar floor and peered at the ship. Its reflective glass prevented her from seeing inside the small scout ship.
> “You are in violation of the Intergalactic Peace Accord which grants safe travel to all ships within the Commonwealth. You will surrender yourself and your vessel to us and be prosecuted. Failure to comply will result in the forceful seizure of your vessel. You have thirty seconds to surrender yourself.”
There was a hiss of air as the ship’s canopy popped open and a heavily armored individual clambered out. Landing on the floor with a metallic clunk, the figure slowly rose up and turned a masked visor toward Commander Blackstar.
Slowly reaching up, the figure unfastened its headgear and pulled off the helmet to reveal a beautiful green-skin.
“You’re Bre’lal,” Lieutenant Brei’alas gasped.
“My name is Angellyk Adronis of Arkadia, and I’ve come with a message for Empress Alakandra. ‘He’s coming.’”
“Who’s coming?” Lianica asked.
“Zira Ha’ppek.”
“Zira Ha’ppek?” Brei’alas asked, unfamiliar with the name. “Who’s that?”
“He’s nobody,” Captain Blackstar replied almost as soon as the lieutenant had asked the question. She cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes at their guest. “Because he doesn’t exist.”
“Oh, I can assure you,” Angellyk replied, matching the commander’s intense gaze with one of her own. “He’s most certainly real. And he’s on his way here.”
“Who are you again?” Brei’alas asked, pointing at the woman in heavy combat armor.
“I’m just a messenger. But I was tasked to deliver this communication to the empress personally.” Angellyk took a step forward, testing the room. She heard the shuffle of shoulders and the clicking of plasma riffles being cocked.
Lianica raised her hand and gestured for Angellyk to stop where she was. “I’m afraid the only way I’ll allow you to be in proximity of the empress is if you’re behind nano-mesh glass in a holding cell.
The green-skinned woman scanned the room of soldiers, all their weapons trained on her, waiting for Lianica’s signal to intervene should she try anything. Cautiously, Angellyk raised her hands, showing her bare wrists to Lianica, and answered, “Then, you’d better arrest me.”
Lieutenant Brei’alas pulled out some magnetic restraints from behind her back and walked hesitantly toward the Bre’lal woman. She was surprisingly tall for a green-skin. But even with her more athletic build, like all Bre’lal, she maintained a level of beauty that made her people renowned throughout the galaxy.
Brei’alas looked over her shoulder to confirm and was met with a silent nod from the captain urging her to proceed.
Just as Brei’alas was turning back around to cuff Angellyk, a gloved hand wrapped itself around her mouth and reeled her back. Her back hit the metal chest plating of Angellyk’s body armor with a thud and the woman’s forearm slowly constricted around her neck like a python. In her other hand was a small dagger which was pressed firmly to the lieutenant’s neck.
“Hold your fire,” Lianica shouted, raising her fist in the air and gesturing for her men to exercise restraint.
“I don’t think you understand. My mission,” Angellyk snarled through her clenched teeth, “is to personally relay my message to her Majesty, Jegra Alakandra. And I intend to do just that.”
“Unless the information you have pertains to Dagon galactic security, I’m afraid you’ll wait in the cell until the time I deem you’re no longer a threat to my crew or this ship, or until the empress orders me to do otherwise.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Angellyk growled.
Unexpectedly, Angellyk’s arm twisted about in such an unnatural way that she immediately relinquished her hold on the knife. Another wrenching of her arm and her shoulder dislocated from its socket. Angellyk let out a scream as she shoved Brei’alas out of the way and spun around, taking a wild swing at the air.
“I know you’re out there!” she hollered at the thin air. Her arm limp at her side, she ignored the fleet of soldiers all around her who trained their laser-scopes on her.
Another invisible thump, which sounded like a heavy boot slamming into Angellyk’s breast plate, sent her staggering back. She lunged forward only to have her feet go out from under her. Flying up, she came down on her back, hard.
The air shimmered above her momentarily, and then the invisibility cloak of the steel armor dissolved to reveal Raven Nightguard standing before the green-skin.
“I can’t say I’m surprised to see you, Raven,” Angellyk said. “After all, it’s just like a Dagon to crawl into bed with whomever offers them the sweetest deal.”
Raven ignored the woman’s words and reached down and pulled her to her feet. “I don’t make deals with snakes,” Raven said. It was true, she wasn’t one to ally herself with Dagon interests, seeing as they’d exiled her family when she was little on the accusation of being insurrectionists. But Raven was loyal to Jegra, which is why she intervened.
Lieutenant Brei’alas held out the restraints and handed them to Raven. “Maybe you should handle this.”
“Yes,” Angellyk said, a coy grin curling onto her forest green lips. “You’d best handle me.”
“Enough, Angie,” Raven finally said, letting out a sigh. “Just do as they say and things will go smoothly.”
“Smoothly?” Angellyk balked. “Like when you dissolved our marriage contract over the fact that I stole your stupid necklace? Because I’ve never seen anyone slide right out of a marriage for something as trivial as that.”
“I don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself to you, Angie. It wasn’t a bloody necklace! It was a hyperborean crystal. I needed it to power my ship. You pawned it off so you could pay back that debt collector you owed and, thanks to you, I was left stranded in unfriendly space only to be picked up by pirates and sold into slave labor where I was augmented against my will.” She exhaled loudly. “That’s why I divorced you.”
“Wait,” Brei’alas interrupted, unable to help herself. “She’s your ex-wife?” Glancing over at the commander, she was met with a stern look. “What?” she asked defensively, “We were all thinking it.”
“She’s right,” Mr. Kolivan said, finally breaking his siege on words and ending his long silence. “I was thinking it.”
Brei’alas smiled, and motioned to Kolivan. “See?”
“Yes,” Lianica said, eyeing Kolivan suspiciously, as though he might speak again at any moment, “I see. But that doesn’t change the fact that, I’m sure, these two have a lot of catching up to do.” Turning back toward Raven, she nodded down at the restraints that Brei’alas had handed to her. “If you’d be so kind as to do the honors.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Raven answered briskly. Then, smiling at Angellyk, she slapped the restraints onto her wrists with a vicious snap.
“Ow!” Angellyk grumbled. “That hurt.”
“Serves you right,” Raven replied without a hint of remorse. Giving Angellyk a firm shove, she added, “This way, sweetheart.”
Raven left the shuttle bay with a full squad of guards trailing after her as she escorted Angellyk to the brig. Once they’d cleared the bay doors, Brei’alas turned to Captain Blackstar with an astonished look.
“Is it just me or is there never a dull moment on this ship?”
“It’s definitely not you, lieutenant. This ship is quite literally a magnet for unexpected drama.”
“Good, because for a moment I thought it might be me.”
Lianica nodded politely and then motioned for all the remaining officers and guards to return to their regular duties.
“Lieutenant,” Lianica added at the last possible instant. “I want you and Kolivan to stay behind and scour this ship from top to bottom for anything out of the ordinary.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brei’alas replied, throwing her hands onto her hips and turning toward the vessel to examine it.
As Lianica took her leave, Kolivan sauntered up beside Brei’alas and studied the ship with her. “Well, let’s get to it,” she said, holding her elbow and stret
ching her bent arm over her head in preparation for the work that lay ahead of them.
30
Carcosan virgins attended to the ritualistic garments of Anaïs Nin. They dressed her in a Nyctan styled kimono layered with intricately woven silk that was harvested from a genetically enhanced form of Angorian weaving spider engineered to produce the finest golden thread. The gold kimono with white satin lining represented the protective cloak of the shared Nyctan and Dagon god, the Keeper of the Yellow Sign, and enemy to the Outer Gods, H’aaztre–or in the common tongue of the lay people, Hastur.
Once the administratrix was fully clothed in the golden kimono, one of the Carcosan virgins, a bald-headed girl of no more than eighteen, with milky white skin and clad from neck to toe in the traditional red and gold-trimmed hakama-styled dress of her order, approached Anaïs Nin with a golden bowl filled with red powder.
A second, ashen-skinned virgin, just as pale as the first and wearing the same ceremonial garb as her sister, brought over a crystalline chalice and sidled up next to her virgin sister. She brought the bowl to her forehead in a display of thanks and then carefully poured the shimmering water from the chalice into the bowl. Having added the perfect amount, she dipped her fingers into the mixture and stirred the water into the red powder until it made a fine paste. Removing her fingers, she drew a red dot on her forehead, then on her sister’s, and, finally, she turned toward the administratrix and drew a line down the center of Anaïs Nin’s forehead. The girl added a dab of red to her mistress’s chin before taking the bowl and disappearing back the way she’d come.
The other Carcosan virgin remained behind for a few moments and then bowed reverently, holding herself mid-bow, only to slowly draw back into the shadows just beyond the soft, wavering glow of candlelight.
The administratrix turned around and, holding her posture stiffly, paced in small steps across the red carpet that was laid out before her. The carpet stretched across the larger room all the way to a wide bed that sat at the end. The bedspread itself was of black satin, and it glimmered, like oil, in the dancing light. At the foot of the bed waited Dakroth, his arms locked behind his back. He, too, wore a gold and white trimmed ceremonial hakama and had three red lines painted down his face. The outside lines ran from the top of his forehead down either cheek. Likewise, the central line extended down past his nose and over his lips and chin.