by Tristan Vick
“It seems the empress has a mole in the senate. Someone has been feeding her inside information.”
“In that case, we shall root them out together,” Tivian said. Leaning in, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Targon on the lips. Then, taking his face in her hands, she said, “Let me handle this. I’ll discover the traitor and take care of them. You have my word.”
Senator Targon smiled. Tivian smiled back, then spun on her heels and, still buttoning her blouse back up, started heading toward the exit.
All of a sudden, a pink laser blast flashed from behind and the sound of a plasma bolt scorching the wall stopped Tivian in her tracks. Her eyes went wide with shock as she saw the scorch mark on the bathroom door directly in front of her. Then, her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed to the floor. Dead.
“Consider it taken care of,” Senator Targon said in a contemptuous tone. He looked down at Tivian’s lifeless body with disgust and stepped over her, exiting the women’s restroom. Outside he brushed down his uniform and took a deep breath to compose himself.
He would never have believed it could possibly have been Tivian, if it hadn’t been for the bug that Senator Mykos had planted in her personal transport shuttle. Sure enough, she’d been feeding Jegra Alakandra inside information ever since Jegra had become imperatrix.
In the end, Senator Tivian’s puritan line was just an act. She, like many who followed the empress, wanted change. Wanted a revolution. But Senator Targon had other plans.
At least now, Tivian’s double-dealing and playing both sides was over. Now, Senator Targon had complete control of the senate and his daughter, Admiral Callestra Van Morgan, had control of the military. Together, they’d usher in a new era of prominence for the Empire.
37
The EKG monitor chirped with the steady pulse of Jegra and Danica’s heartbeats. With an aching groan, Jegra sat up in bed, finding herself in a medical suite next to Danica. The suite, she recognized, was on the third floor of her palace on Thessalonica. A cute Dagon nurse attended them both.
“Who are you?” asked Jegra, yawning at the same time.
The nurse rushed over to her bedside and gently pressed upon her shoulder, easing her back down onto the double layer of soft pillows. “My name is Amora Van Gogh,” she said, smiling softly. “I’m part of the Imperial medical staff and have been personally assigned to you.”
“What did you do to mess up?” Jegra smiled, giving Amora a knowing look.
It was Dakroth’s twisted rule that if you royally screwed up serving him, you were reassigned to the empress’s personal detail. It was partly a punishment, as serving someone other than a Dagon was seen as a kind of humiliation, but because Jegra was the imperatrix, technically, there was no shame, though everyone knew the emperor’s backhanded slams. They still were obliged by both custom and law to fulfill their duties; it was merely a snub to be assigned to Jegra. So, if someone new showed up on her staff, she knew they’d likely messed up.
“I sort of failed to treat the emperor.”
“Oh, did something happen to dear Rhadamanthus?” Jegra asked wryly. Of course, she knew exactly what had happened. She’d cold-cocked the scheming bastard and then had Raven handle all the messy cleanup. But she wasn’t going to share all that just yet.
“It wasn’t my fault, I promise. I just—”
Jegra laughed, cutting off the hesitant girl before she could finish what she was saying. “It’s no problem, I assure you. Rhadamanthus has a way of blaming everyone but himself for the trouble he raises. But that’s neither here nor there, my dear.”
Jegra groaned and sat up again. She looked down are her arm which was perfectly mended. It wasn’t a prosthetic, she could tell. Somehow, her enhanced healing factor combined with cutting edge medical science gave her her arm back. She sighed with relief but the sigh quickly turned into another aching groan.
When Amora saw her struggling against the pain, she reached over to gently nudge her back down, but the empress’s hand flew up and caught hers, stopping her.
“I’ll be fine,” Jegra responded.
“I’m sorry,” Amora said. “I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off when she realized Jegra was still holding her hand. Looking back up at the empress, she saw a hard gaze like nothing she’d ever encountered before and felt as if she’d wither away to nothing beneath the weight of the hard stare.
“When you serve me, you serve only me. If you betray me, I’ll deal with you personally. Do I make myself clear?”
Amora gulped. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, looking down at her feet and curtseying.
“If you abide by my rules, then you’ll be safe here. Even from the emperor.”
“Yes, Your Maj—”
“Now,” Jegra said, changing the subject, “How is she doing?”
Amora followed Jegra’s gaze and saw that she was looking at Danica. “She’s been through a lot. Not only that, but apparently her entire bottom half was severed and then genetically rebuilt.”
“What are you saying?” Jegra asked.
“I’m not sure. If I had to guess, I’d say someone removed her legs, pelvis, and lower part of her internal organs then, for whatever reason, made genetic copies and pieced her back together.”
Jegra swung her legs over the edge of her bed and slid out. Her feet slapped softly against the cool, tile floor of the medlab, and she strolled over to Danica. Taking Danica’s hand in hers, she squeezed softly and whispered, “What did he do to you?” After brushing a rogue tear away from her eye, she turned to Amora. “Will she be all right?”
“She’s recuperating well and, with the accelerated healing process, should be healed up in another day or two. We’ll have to keep her in an induced coma until then, but otherwise, she should make a full recovery.”
“Thank you,” Jegra said, keeping her eyes fixed on Danica’s lavender face. Reaching down, she gently stroked Danica’s cheek and then bent down and kissed her on the forehead.
Unexpectedly, the door chimed and Jegra called out, “Enter.”
Whispering apart, the doors opened to reveal Raphine Agnar standing in the entrance. Stepping into the room, she said, “Someone wanted to see you.”
The baby squid entity came floating in behind her and then wafted forward and wrapped its little tentacles around Jegra’s hand.
Amora screamed and drew back, bumping into a medical cart. “What is that thing?!”
“This is La’Garren,” Raphine said, smiling ear to ear.
“Where have you been, little fella?” Jegra asked, letting the squid feel her energy pulses. Pulling him into her bosom and squeezing him so tightly that he got comfortably wedged between her breasts, she said, “I owe you one for saving my life.”
“But it–it’s a s-su-squid monster.”
“Just a baby one,” Jegra said, breaking into baby-talk. She stroked the little glowing squid creature until it finally broke free of her embrace and floated back over to Raphine.
Raphine raised her fingers and snapped. A couple of Bre’lal servant girls rushed in and brought the empress two selections of clothes. Jegra mixed and matched them, picking a copper wrap skirt and a black see-through lace halter top with a Queen Anne style neckline.
Immodest and completely comfortable with her perfectly formed body, Jegra stripped off her medical gown in front of everyone. Standing before all four women naked, discounting Danica, who slept, Jegra handed the extra clothes back to the servant girls and dismissed them. They bowed and quickly took their leave. Raphine, meanwhile, just smiled and watched Jegra as though this were a common occurrence, but Amora blushed, her cheeks turning a deep purple.
“Don’t worry, you get used to it,” Raphine said with a soft chuckle. “The empress isn’t exactly shy.”
“That’s good to know,” Amora said, glancing at Jegra’s naked form out of the corner of her eye. She still couldn’t bring herself to make direct eye-contact with the nude empress.
“She has a way o
f upsetting one’s expectations,” Raphine informed the nervous looking nurse. “By shocking people’s sensibilities, she can get a better read on you. Figure out what your true intentions are.”
“I see,” Amora said, finally managing to look up. When she did, she saw Jegra reaching under her lace shirt with her hands and taking a handful of boob, adjusting everything so it would settle into place with just the perfect balance.
“Raphine is right,” Jegra said. “Even now, I was able to get a read on you.”
“Really?” Amora asked. She was genuinely terrified of what Jegra might have discovered about her. But at the same time, her curiosity overwhelmed her timidity. “What did you learn?”
“I learned you’re not like other Dagon women. You’re not a trans; you are fully female. You’re bashful around anything sexual. You glanced away from my naked body where most Dagons would literally be trying to figure out how best to win my favor so they could fuck me.”
“How’d you know I was fully female?” Amora asked. “Nobody knows that but the doctor who birthed me.”
Jegra twisted the waist of her dress around so the slit between the two folds appeared in front, revealing the tan flesh of her inner thighs. Then, looking up at Amora, she tapped her right ear. “I can hear the pulse of your heartbeat. In most Dagon women, there is a loud, throbbing pulse that emanates from their vestigial member when they get excited. But not you. I don’t hear anything. Which would indicate you’re without the vestigial organ. And since surgery would make you a mod, yet you are not shunned as a mod, I’m assuming it’s a natural consequence of your birth.”
“See,” Raphine said, smiling at Amora. “She got all that from your lack of a dick-heartbeat.”
Amora laughed out loud and then covered her mouth and stopped herself.
“And this one,” Jegra said, throwing her arm around Raphine and getting her into a playful headlock, “Says whatever thing pops into her pretty little head.” Making a fist, Jegra gave Raphine a noogie, messing up her hair.
“Ah, come on!” Raphine protested, struggling to break way. “You know I hate it when you do that.”
Jegra laughed and relinquished her hold on the poor girl who quickly went about trying to straighten her disheveled hair.
Amora giggled as she watched Jegra play and jest with Raphine as though she were her own sister. And, in a way, she was. Jegra was virtually alone in this part of the galaxy. Her species hadn’t made it this far out yet, and so all the family she had was adopted. She made her own family wherever she was.
Raphine stuck her tongue out at Jegra then turned to Amora. Sticking out her hand, she said, “It was nice to meet you, Amora.”
“Likewise,” Amora said, shaking Raphine’s hand. With that, Raphine turned and departed the medlab. The small squid creature followed after her as though it were a balloon tethered to a small child.
“You two seem close,” Amora said.
There was a long silence as Jegra stared at the door through which Raphine had exited. “I killed her sister,” Jegra finally confessed.
“Oh,” Amora answered, not knowing what else to say.
“I feel I owe her so much. Yet she never makes any demands of me. But, as long as I draw breath, that girl will be under my protection and care.”
“And what about the squid entity?”
“His name is La’Garren,” Jegra stated, turning toward Amora with a stern look on her face.
“Isn’t it…I mean…is La’Garren dangerous?”
“Probably,” Jegra answered. She then shrugged. “But that little guy has already saved my life on more than one occasion, and until I can repay that debt I’ll protect him with my life.”
Amora gazed admiringly at the empress. She’d never met anyone so noble and just before. And more than that, it seemed like Empress Jegra Alakandra genuinely cared about her subjects. The Lord Emperor cared about no one but himself. So, it was refreshing to see how Jegra could still maintain her integrity as a fearsome warrior and retain her obvious abundance of compassion. A strange combination if there ever was one.
“And I’ll do my best to take care of your friend here,” Amora said, turning toward Danica and picking up her chart off the end of the bed.
“She’s more than my friend,” Jegra said, her smile growing bright. “She’s my love and my best friend. If anything should happen to her…” Stopping, Jegra took a breath. “I don’t know what I’d do.”
“And that’s why I’ll give her my utmost attention and care,” Amora said, putting the chart back after making some small notations.
“I appreciate that,” Jegra replied. Then, turning to leave, she added, “If you’ll excuse me, I have other business to take care of. But if there are any updates, any updates at all…”
“You’ll be the first to know, Your Majesty.”
Jegra smiled once more at Amora, and then exited the medical lab. Once out in the hall, she gripped her ribcage and groaned. Although not yet back to a hundred percent, she couldn’t waste any more time lounging in bed.
After returning to her quarters, Jegra locked her door and opened a secure channel to Senator Tivian on the holovid. But there was no answer. Feeling it odd she wouldn’t answer her encrypted channel, she called the senator’s office, since she sometimes stayed after hours.
Senator Targon Van Morgan’s face appeared on the holovid in 3D and answered, “This is Senator Tivian’s office, who is this?”
“This is the Empress Jegra Alakandra,” Jegra said in her most regal sounding voice. “What is going on? Where is Senator Tivian?”
“I’m afraid the senator has had a terrible accident.”
“Accident?” Jegra repeated, not believing the words. Senator Tivian was careful. Accidents didn’t just happen to overly cautious types like her. “What kind of accident?”
“I’m afraid,” Senator Targon added, shaking his head remorsefully, “it was a suicide.”
It was Senator Tivian who’d approached Jegra in confidence and asked for her help. It had been Senator Tivian’s plan to clamp down on the corruption of the senate, enlisting Jegra’s help. It was highly suspect that she’d abandon all hope and kill herself. That just wasn’t like her. It was more likely she had been murdered and framed.
“That’s a shame,” Jegra replied, keeping a stately composure.
“Yes,” Targon answered. “She will be missed.” His words rang hollow and Jegra eyed him suspiciously. Noticing Jegra’s skepticism, Targon asked, “Is there anything that I can help you with, Your Majesty?”
“Maybe another time, perhaps,” Jegra said, smiling artificially.
“Well, then, until we speak again. Sorry about the bad news.”
“Yes, please send her family my deepest condolences.”
“Of course,” Targon said, still grinning like a fool.
Jegra cut the feed and shivered. Something was seriously wrong with that man. All she ever got from Targon was bile and hate, but amid the scandal of Senator Tivian’s mysterious suicide, he was nothing but roses and kindness to her. It almost seemed as if he were hiding something.
Her gut told her he was likely the one who sniffed out the alliance between Tivian and Jegra and then had Tivian killed. But how could she prove it? Without any allies among the Council, she was facing an uphill battle that she didn’t believe she’d win. Politics weren’t exactly her thing.
Worse still, Dagon politicians loved nothing more than to get embroiled in meandering displays of maddening rhetoric where they talked in circles, slinging insult after insult at one another, trying to see who could make the biggest mockery of the other. If she came at him with unfounded accusations, he’d eat her alive and spit her out.
“Dammit,” she cursed, slamming her fist down on the console at her desk. The console sparked and then fizzled in protest to the abuse and died. Jegra frowned at the wisps of white smoke curling into the air and then let out a pent-up sigh.
The cry of a thorn bird just outside her balco
ny caught her attention and she swiveled around in her chair, crossed her long, bronze legs, and peered outside.
The blue sky was unexpectedly disrupted by a flock of thorn birds taking flight, their murmuration so dense it blotted out the sun and cast a shadow across the entire palace. Jegra slowly rose to her feet and, throwing open the tall glass doors, stepped out onto her balcony.
Whatever it was, the birds weren’t the only ones reacting peculiarly. The sand worms were cutting through the sands at random angles and zagging back and forth as though they were trying to escape some terrible calamity.
In the distance, Jegra heard the sandstorm alarm blaring on the palace comm system and she turned toward the west to see the largest, darkest sand front she’d ever seen.
Burnt orange sand plumes merged into dark purple pockets. In the darkest part, lightning flickered and the rolling sandstorm was heading right for them.
Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. And it wasn’t just the last few days. It was the whole year. It seemed the very moment she’d taken care of one problem ten more arose in its place. And now, with Senator Tivian’s suspicious death, here she was, met with the worst sandstorm she’d ever experienced during her entire time on Thessalonica. It was too much to be coincidental.
Jegra hopped up onto her balcony, and crouching down, she leapt high into the air. The empress sailed across the pond and gardens below and landed on the very edge of her property. Rising back to her full six-foot-five height, she stood firm as she stared down the sandstorm. She watched it with great intensity, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary as it raced toward her.
A sand plume thirty stories high smashed into the energy shields inches away from Jegra’s nose. She didn’t even flinch as the sand blast crackled along the energy field that protected the palace. Blue flickering swirls formed all across the dome, giving the palace a kind of snow globe effect, and Jegra turned and, tossing her long brunette hair, began her march back toward the palace.