Imperatrix of the Galaxy

by Tristan Vick

The battle droids all turned in formation, and fanned out, forming a perimeter around the empress and then began to slowly close in. Flanking her from all sides, they each took cheap shots at her, hoping to throw off her defense. Luckily, Jegra’s armor protected her from the brunt of their attacks and, not waiting for one of the bots to get off a lucky shot, she twirled around, her plasma blade sparking and buzzing as it cut through armor plated bodies like a row of sushi.

  A thin orange line spread across the chest-plating of all four robots. Jegra, poised in a crouch, sword extended like a samurai, looked over her shoulder at the robots to find each of them glancing down at the thin molten line stretching across their expurgated torsos. As if on cue, each battle droid abruptly exploded in a daisy chain of fiery destruction.

  One after another went up in smoke and, one after another, their scorched and burning armor collapsed to the ground. A subtle yet distinctly satisfied grin spread across Jegra’s lips and, after a twirl of her blade, she swiveled around and faced the remaining gladiators, shooting them a rather unimpressed look.

  “I missed you!” Danica shouted above the din of the fighting and the chaos.

  “I missed you too,” Jegra shouted back, to the enthusiastic cheers of the audience.

  “Why don’t you two get a room,” Ishtar grumbled, rolling her eyes at the public pronouncements of affection.

  The two Salamandarian women, not particularly interested in taking on the undefeated champion of the arena, quickly turned their attention to Danica and Ishtar. The large Dragonian, Kegon, joined them in their attack. As the battle split into two groups, this opened up a window for the Twins of Regolus and the giant Bakktu, Niktor Ektan, to charge Jegra.

  Not wasting a second, Jegra raced to meet them head on. As they darted across the hot sand, she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye the satyr, Angor. He dropped to his knees beside his slain friend and began weeping.

  The twins, being lean and quick, were the first to reach Jegra. To their surprise, she leaped over them, tucked into a ball, and hit the ground rolling. Crashing into the legs of the giant Bakktu, she pummeled into him like a bowling ball crashing into pins. The Bakktu flipped head over heels and then bit the dirt. Hard.

  Before it could even push its bulky mass all the way back to its feet, Jegra manifested behind it with startling speed, and raised her armor-plated boot. The Bakktu slowly turned its head just in time to eat a face full of Jegra’s metal-clad foot and collapsed back to the ground. Coughing up sand, it tried getting back up.

  Ektan was clumsy on the ground, and Jegra knew that if she let him get back onto his feet he’d tear her limb from limb, so the trick was to keep knocking him off balance. And it was working. As he rose to his hands and knees, she twisted about with a low, spinning sweep kick and took him down again. Ektan roared out in frustration and pounded his fists on the ground. Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere fast, he started to roll away, the first defensive tactic he’d had to use the entire time he’d been champion.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Jegra said in a hushed tone as she watched Ektan roll away from her. Leaping into the air, she calculated her trajectory and thrust out her right leg. Coming down like a missile, she stomped Ektan’s head into the ground, his skull crushing under her boot and instantly turning to mush.

  Ektan’s brains squished under the weight of Jegra’s foot like a juicy cockroach, the gory contents splattering everywhere. A communal “Eww” rose through the crowd and quickly turned into an enthralled “Ooh.”

  The minute the televid drones swooped down to get a close-up of the gory aftermath to throw up onto the giant stadium monitors, more cheers erupted, celebrating Jegra’s swift victory over the current reigning champion.

  “Jegra! We love you!” one of the green-skinned women shouted from the stands. She jumped up and down excitedly, her supple breasts bouncing in defiance of gravity, and blew a kiss at Jegra.

  A drone swooped down and zoomed in on Jegra to catch her response, starting with the glistening lines of sweat trickling down the bulge of her breasts and into her cleavage, then slowly panning up to reveal the confident grin on her full lips.

  She made a “V” with her fingers, spreading them wide, and then licked at the gap, performing a mock cunnilingus in response to the woman’s shouts of admiration. She then pointed her finger up at the woman, singling her out of the crowd as the lucky recipient of her affection.

  The young woman screamed out, barely able to believe that the great Jegra Alakandra, the Empress herself, had recognized her at all. In her excitement, she pulled up her ragged shirt and flashed her large breasts at the empress.

  In the old days, Jegra would have likely invited that girl down to her personal chambers after the match to make good on her promise. But even though the times had changed, Jegra still knew how to keep the audience eating out of her palm.

  It was all part of the show, after all. The show that Dakroth had rigged to make himself popular by association to the champions he groomed. And when they no longer served his purpose, he got rid of them. Replaced them with something new. Something fresh. And he only ever brought back old champions if he was certain it would garner him ratings.

  If fact, it was clear to her now, that the only reason Abethca had entered her life was because Dakroth had willed it. But when Jegra’s affections shifted to Abethca and not Dakroth, he had handled the situation like he always handled an unfavorable situation—by killing whatever or whoever was standing in his way.

  And, now, the simple-minded asshat was trying to pull the same old shit with Danica. Something which infuriated Jegra to her very core and filled her with a burning rage she didn’t know she possessed.

  “No,” she muttered under her breath, slowly turning to face the remaining combatants. “You won’t beat me.” Not again. Not this time.

  With Ektan out of the picture, it was anyone’s game. Fame and fortune favored the brave. At least, anyone brave enough to try and take on Jegra.

  The opportunity presenting itself, the twins charged forward, weapons drawn. They leaped, twirled, and flipped about with such acrobatic frenzy that Jegra had a hard time keeping track of them. Out of nowhere a foot kicked Jegra’s sword from her hands and the blade lodged itself into the sand a safe distance from their current position.

  The plasma melted the sand to glass around it before the automated shutoff engaged. As it cooled and solidified, however, it became impossible for Jegra to tear it out without getting a firm hold on it and putting her back into it. It would have to wait. Giving up on the blade for now, she turned her attention back to the female twin who raced toward her with a bloodthirsty glint in her eye.

  Not holding back, Jegra threw back her arm, her fist locking just behind her head, and held it. At the right instant, she let loose. Her fist cut through the air with the force of a cannonball, but the green girl skidded to a halt and, reversing direction at the last possible second, and did a back handspring out of the way, narrowly avoiding Jegra’s attack.

  Astonished that the girl could evade her so easily, not something many could do, Jegra lunged forward with a spinning back hand swipe. But, again, the agile girl bounced out of the way, effortlessly evading Jegra’s follow-up attack. At the same time, the girl’s brother joined the tango they had going on, and flanked Jegra from the side. She pivoted and threw out another spinning backhand. But he too cartwheeled out of the way as though he were as light as a feather.

  “Would you two damn pixies hold still!” Jegra barked, annoyed by their prancing about like a couple of woodland fairies. She was accustomed to brawlers. Not ballet dancers.

  “You weren’t a part of the deal,” the male Bre’lal said accusingly, pointing his blade at Jegra. He and his sister circled her, never stopping long enough for Jegra to get a good fix on them.

  Confused, Jegra lowered her fists and asked, “What deal? What are you talking about?”

  “The deal…” the female twin replied from behind Jegra’s shoulder, “w
as to help the red one kill the traitor.”

  “You mean Danica?”

  “But you’re obviously here to prevent us from doing that. The Lord Emperor won’t be very pleased with you.”

  “The Lord Emperor only cares about his precious ratings,” Jegra answered, glaring at the young man. “You’d best remember that, because he’ll flip on you the moment a more attractive offer presents itself.”

  “In that case, you just gave him a win in that department, sister,” the female twin snarled.

  There was a long stare-down between the two of them and then Jegra snickered. “The fight isn’t over yet,” Jegra replied, her subtle sneer widening into a full-sized grin.

  Both women charged one another while letting loose their best battle cries. Jegra thrust a flat palm forward, her fingers stiffer than a board as they cut through the air. She hit the green-skin squarely in her abdomen, and the girl folded like paper and crumpled to the ground.

  Momentarily stunned, and wheezing as the wind rushed out of her lungs, the Bre’lal girl barely had time to roll out of the way to avoid Jegra’s follow-up knee attack.

  As she rolled away, her brother leapt up over her and did a spinning roundhouse kick right into Jegra’s bulky armor. Thrown off balance, Jegra fell backward and sent up a small dust cloud as her heavily armored body crashed to the arena floor.

  In the blink of an eye, the green-skin girl flipped back up onto her feet and, with a fanciful twirling of her blades, signaled to the empress that she was already ready for round two.

  Jegra now found herself in a similar situation to Ektan before she’d stomped him out of existence, and felt a bit like an overturned tortoise in her heavy battle armor.

  The bulky Knights of Caelum armor was only weighing her down now and made her movements sluggish and predictable. Besides, it had served its purpose of taking down the heavy hitters. Now, she needed to match the speed and finesse of the two spinning, twirling terpsichoreans or risk getting cut to ribbons.

  The clock ticking down, Jegra slapped the emergency release function and the armor decompressed with a pneumatic hiss of air. A series of interlocking panels unfurled and flipped open, allowing Jegra to climb out of the suit. Gradually, she rose out of the armor and shed the metal husk like a butterfly shedding its cocoon.

  The green-skins regrouped and circled back around, hesitant about how to proceed now that Jegra had ditched her armor. She wouldn’t be held back any longer and this meant they’d need to be extra cautious when engaging her.

  When the female sister caught her brother eyeing Jegra’s stunning and sweat dappled body, she slapped him in the arm. “Hey! Stay focused.”

  Once she’d fully exited the armor, Jegra stretched and then cracked her neck side to side. She sported her trademark metal bikini, minus all the traditional trappings, trophies, and décor she usually wore–all but for the thick, silver bracelets she had on. Bracelets made out of microphase korridium alloy.

  Out of the blue an arrow came streaking toward Jegra. Sensing it, she spun to try and deflected it away with her bracelet, but she was too slow and the arrow embedded itself into her left shoulder. She groaned in pain and looked at the feathered shaft jutting out of her flesh. “Goddamn it,” she muttered in frustration.

  Fearful of removing the korridium arrowhead and causing damage to her muscle tissue, she decided to leave it in for the time being. Turning to face the new threat, she glared at the satyr from across the field who was busy readying his crossbow with another bolt. Her brow creased into a sharp scowl and she shot him a look that said don’t even think about it, buster.

  But he simply ignored her glowering and went about making ready for a second attack. After all, she’d killed his best friend, something which he wouldn’t likely forget anytime soon. Besides, the satyrs were a stubborn, loyal race. He’d simply keep on coming at her until he succeeded in avenging his partner’s death or until she put him out of his misery.

  Distracted by the satyr’s antics, Jegra felt a lacerating pain across her back. Before she knew it, the female twin had sliced and “X” across her shoulder blades, cackling like a witch as she pranced off, proud of her handy work.

  Jegra yelled out in pain laced frustration and staggered forward, shaking her fists and mumbling obscenities under her breath as she tried to shake off the sting. “You assholes!”

  The twins laughed in reply to Jegra’s complaining, finding pleasure in their small victory.

  Her ears caught the sound of another blade slicing through the air and, crossing her wrists above her head, Jegra blocked the incoming swipe just above her head. The blade sparked against her metal bracelets and, with a grunt, she thrust her powerful arms upward and threw off her attacker.

  Spinning around, she saw the male twin leap backward, tuck into a ball, and roll out of range. The moment he shrank away, his sister leaped over him and landed a sturdy flying jump kick right into Jegra’s abdomen.

  Both women toppled to the ground and began scrambling to their feet. Jegra quickly did a crouching roundhouse and knocked the girl back onto her ass. Quickly getting to her feet ahead of her opponent, she narrowly dodged another arrow that whispered past her head.

  Without even looking, Jegra reached out and caught the shaft of the arrow, mere inches away from her right ear. Breaking it over her knee, she tossed both pieces to the ground and then ran full speed toward the arena wall.

  Everyone paused and watched her, not understanding why she was heading away from the fight. Of course, Jegra’s tactics weren’t always conventional, so even Ishtar and Danica’s fight with the Dragonian lizard man and the two Salamandarian girls slowed to a standstill as everyone stopped to see what Jegra was doing.

  In a single bound, Jegra jumped up to the top of the arena wall. Spectators screamed with elation and reached out to touch their heroine, but she kicked off before probing hands could clasp her and flew across the arena like one of the satyr’s arrows. Drilling into the Bre’lal brother, she knocked him clear across the battlefield with such force he hit the wall on the opposite side.

  A wet cough came from his red-stained mouth and, slumping to his knees, he spit blood onto the sands. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand he examined the color, pushed himself off the wall, slowly raised his head, and let out a fearsome shout. But it was cut short when his sister’s body slammed into him, knocking him back into the wall again.

  The twins fell into a heap on top of one another, both rendered unconscious. In the distance, Jegra dusted her hands off as if to say good riddance, the first arrow still protruding out of her left shoulder.

  While the twins were out for the count, she turned her attention to Angor, the satyr. When he spotted her stomping across the sand toward him clearly determined to break him over her knee like one of his arrows, he quickly plucked a fresh bolt from his quiver and began loading his crossbow.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Jegra growled as she approached. Reaching out she tried to grab onto the creature’s one good long-horn. The other seemed to have broken off a long time ago and had been filed down to prevent splintering. But the satyr simply fell away from her, evading her grasp, and launched his arrow behind him.

  It sailed through the air and embedded itself into the back of Danica’s left thigh. She yelped at the sharp pain and looked down at the back of her leg to find a long arrow shaft sticking out. The Dragonian, Kegon, came rearing up behind her with a battle axe, ready to chop her in half. Danica flinched, realizing she wouldn’t be able to hobble away fast enough to evade the lethal swipe of his blade.

  Her every muscle tensed and she cringed, waiting for a swift death, but when the attack never came she slowly opened one eye and peeked at the giant lizard man standing over her shoulder. Something was off; a peculiar look of astonishment was etched into his face and he wasn’t moving. It was as if he’d been frozen in time. That’s when Danica noticed the thin red line open up along his throat.

  Kegon sunk to his knees and then fell to t
he side. When his left shoulder hit the ground his severed head rolled off his shoulders and across the dirt. It only stopped when it rolled against the sole of a boot.

  Danica looked up to see Ishtar resting her foot on Kegon’s head as though it were a Galactic League soccer ball. She flicked the green blood from her blade and nodded at Danica who nodded back at her in gratitude.

  Frustrated by Angor’s little ruse, Jegra reached down, and with an annoyed huff, grabbed the creature by his chest plate and hoisted him into the air with one arm.

  His armor crumbled beneath Jegra’s powerful grip as though it were tinfoil and with an angry puff, she flung the goat halfway across the arena. Angor crashed into the blue Salamandarian girl and, together, they toppled to the ground.

  The red Salamandarian girl scrambled to help her friend up and then met Ishtar head on. Ishtar was fast, though, and used the momentary snafu to launch a blitzkrieg attack on the two lizard women.

  Meanwhile, Danica felt a sudden onset of vertigo, as though she were drunk with alcohol, and stumbled forward. Throwing out her hands, she tried to steady herself, but the dizziness only grew worse. When she tried to speak, her words came out garbled.

  “Wuh, fuh-dah-em did ah-vis.”

  “What did you say?” Ishtar asked, glancing back momentarily as sparks flew off her sword.

  “Dani! Are you all right?” Jegra called out in a loud enough voice that Danica would hear.

  “Iffel abbett woozy…” she said, her voice growing extremely weak.

  Angor pushed himself back up to his hooves and began laughing in Vaudevillian fashion. “Poison tipped arrow,” he informed Jegra with a chuckle.

  Through gritted teeth, Jegra said, “You have exactly three nano-seconds to hand over the antidote or I tear your head off your shoulders and shove it up your ass.”

  The satyr stroked his beard and let out a bleat that was part amused laugh, part cough. “It’s not that kind of poison,” he answered. Turning toward Jegra, his eyes went cold and, after a deep breath, he addressed Danica. In a most chilling voice, he commanded, “Kill the empress. Kill Jegra.”