by Z H Brown
Blusilon paused in the middle of unwrapping another energy bar. “Why in the world would he need to do that?”
Yellta told him about the message, and about how it would be held in a special room in the Capital.
“You want someone who looks like they just had a mountain dropped on him to walk into a meeting involving the fate of the planet??”
“He doesn’t have to walk; a wheelchair would also be fine,” said Yellta, secretly agreeing with her friend.
Blusilon held his head in his hands, suddenly more exhausted than he was a moment ago.
“I can’t make any promises,” admitted Blusilon. “If he wakes up soon enough and if I think he can travel without complications…” he stopped, then gave a strained grin of realization, his brows drawing together as he looked at Yellta. “Well, either way I guess we don’t really have a choice, do we?”
Yellta frowned and locked eyes with Blusilon as her teammate’s words stirred a twinge of fear within her.
‘I guess we don’t really have a choice, do we?’ No, I guess we don’t.
Omegazon had awoken late in the evening, groggy, sore, and thirsty, but otherwise intact.
The first thing Yellta did was give her love a fierce kiss, careful to put no strain on his wounds.
“I’m so glad you’re OK,” she whispered, lips stretching into a trembling smile as he laid his hand gently on top her hers.
“Same here,” he said weakly, his voice strained from pain, exhaustion and thirst.
Omegazon wanted nothing more than to have a glass of cold water, take his love in his arms, and go back to sleep, but he knew that his previous battle had been only the beginning of his worries.
“What happened to the Emperor? Has there been any word?”
Yellta told him about the message she had received, along with her conversation with the Executive Council.
“Has there been any other word from them?” asked Omegazon.
“Not since they told us the communication would take place at the capital. They made a public statement on the air a while ago, though. So far, they’ve managed to convince everyone that the situation is under control, and given the lack of invasion or orbital bombardment, no one seems like questioning the story.”
Before Omegazon could question Yellta further, Blusilon cleared his throat.
“All right, if you want Omegazon to go to the capital tomorrow, then he needs his rest. So do I, as a matter of fact.”
A pained look crossed Yellta’s face. She clearly hadn’t expected her visit to be so short.
Even though he didn’t want her to go, Omegazon squeezed Yellta’s hand reassuringly. “The doc’s right, Ly. Go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, OK?”
Yellta leaned in and kissed Omegazon deeply, gave him another series of quick kisses, then gave his hand a gentle squeeze and turned to leave.
“I love you,” she said looking back over her shoulder.
“I love you, too.”
With a last, longing look, Yellta left the room, the door sliding shut behind her.
The next day, the team loaded themselves into their transport to make the trip to the Capital. Omegazon had insisted on wearing one of his back-up suits for the meeting, despite Blusilon wanting him to wear a more traditional patient garb. The doctor had agreed, on the condition that his patient remained in a wheelchair until the meeting and rest while Blusilon continued to work on him. By the time they reached the Executive building, Omegazon was looking better, but his face was still covered in scrapes and bruises, and his outfit couldn’t hide the bandages he was wearing.
The team was quiet as the lift they were in took them up to the conference room. Even then, Blusilon was continuing to work on his leader, healing some of the smaller wounds. The sensation was an itchy one, and Omegazon had to resist the urge to scratch the part of his face the healer was repairing.
Omegazon had no idea what to expect when they arrived. He knew that the Emperor had selected him to be his governor, though exactly what that meant was a mystery to the hero. He was also not looking forward to seeing the Council. It wasn’t every day that their champion and greatest hero failed.
Lost in his thoughts, Omegazon was surprised to feel someone squeeze his hand. He looked up and saw Yellta looking down at him. She lowered her face covering to give him a reassuring smile. Omegazon wished he could think of something to say, but only smiled thinly back.
The lift stopped near the top of the building and the doors opened to reveal a large conference room. A viewscreen took up two-thirds of the wall opposite the lift. A large table filled the center of the room, with enough chairs there for seven people to sit. Individual chairs and a couple of love seats lined both walls, giving spectators a place to sit. The five individuals that made up Angolis’ Council stood tensely around the table.
At the sound of the lift arriving, the Council turned to watch the heroes file out into the room. Omegazon wished the doc would let him out of the chair. It was one thing to see such fear and uncertainty when he was eye to eye with someone, but from his seat, he felt helpless- and worse, as the councilors looked down at him with dark eyes, he felt the shame of the hero who had failed the world.
The Council moved to meet the heroes. One of the councilors extended her hand and Omegazon took it.
“I’m so sorry that you have to be here for this, Omegazon,” she said, her eyes roaming across his wounds. “It would’ve been better if this was done after you’d had more time to recover.”
Omegazon shook the councilor’s hand and replied,
“Thank you, councilor. I appreciate the concern, but thanks to Blusilon, I should be back in fighting shape in no time.”
“I certainly hope so.” said one of the councilors. Omegazon couldn’t read the emotion in his voice or on his face and decided to move on.
“What’s the plan?” asked the hero, scanning the faces of the Council.
The councilor who had shaken Omegazon’s hand was the one who responded. “You and the Council shall be seated at the table facing the screen. The other heroes are free to take a seat anywhere else in the room, though we ask that they refrain from interrupting unless you, we, or the… Emperor first speaks to them.”
Omegazon knew some of his teammates (Betarange and Veta, most likely) would bristle at their request, but he knew it was probably for the best. Those two could be… confrontational.
“Agreed,” said Omegazon.
“We would also like you to know that the Council had a deliberation last night. We have agreed that if the Emperor makes any kind of demand that violates the safety, health, or freedom of the people of this world, the Executive Council will reject all notions of surrender and declare a state of war between this ‘Empire’ and our world.”
Omegazon was unsure what to say to that. He had surrendered rather than see his teammates killed, and he was dead sure that any war that broke out would most assuredly be extremely short and devastating for his people. After a few moments, he decided to just tell the truth.
“I can see your reasoning for this, councilors, and I do agree that those principles are indeed worth fighting for. However, I do not believe that our world is capable of driving this invader off. In fact, I doubt that any attempt at war, even if we threw everything we had at them, would last even a week. I do not ask you to change your minds on this, councilors - I only hope that you very, very carefully consider what justifies an act of war.”
Now it was the Council’s turn to be stunned. Omegazon could see on their faces that his blunt and (quite honestly) depressing foresight of the outcome had cut them deep. Still, they maintained their collective composure.
“I can assure you, we have no intention of seeing our people needlessly slaughtered,” said a deep-voiced old councilor after a moment of tense silence.
Somewhere in the room, an alarm rang out. One of the councilors pulled from his coat a data tablet.
“Five minutes until contact,” he informed t
he group solemnly.
“We’d better take our positions then,” instructed the female councilor in an equally solemn tone.
Omegazon slowly and gingerly stood from his wheelchair. His sides hurt, but his wounds were a far cry better than yesterday, when every movement had felt like knives shifting inside of him. Yellta held out a concerned hand and gently grasped his arm. This gesture helped ease some of the hero’s tension, and he took her hands in his and kissed the top of her head.
“I promise, I’ll do everything I can to ensure this ends peacefully,” he whispered.
“I know you will,” she replied, trust reflecting in her eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The Executive Council, elected leaders of Angolis, and Omegazon, greatest hero of their planet, were seated at the conference table, the Seven were seated evenly to the left and right of the table, and the triumphant conqueror was on the large screen before them.
The Emperor was seated on his throne, the camera zoomed in to show his chest and up, with his hands clasped in front of him.
“Thank you all for your prompt gathering. There are a few things to discuss, and I shall ensure that you are as informed as possible.
“Omegazon, by stepping forward for the safety and defense of your world and upholding the terms of the Challenge, you have displayed both admirable bravery and honor in combat. Hence, I have decided to make you the governor of this world. As the appointed overseer of planet Angolis, you will be responsible for enforcing my will and ensuring that all Imperial laws and decrees are followed. An information network that connects every planet in the Empire- one not unlike the system already in use on your world- will be put in place to retain permanent communication. Once it is established, you will be kept informed of all notable occurrences within the Empire and will react accordingly to such occurrences.”
Hearing these words, the councilors and heroes of Angolis tensed. “You will,” he had said. The demands of their conqueror were finally beginning.
“Most of the Imperial laws will no doubt be similar to your own,” the Emperor continued, seemingly taking no notice of his audience’s discomfort. “And so, your planet should change very little in that regard. Most of the laws will not become applicable until you are more integrated into the Imperial community.
“As for your place in this community, Angolis shall be considered equal to all other Imperial Member Planets except the capital: my homeworld, Xenlong. Xenlong is the supreme authority in all matters military, judicial, executive, legislative and economical. However, very little direct oversight is required on the capital’s part, as you will find that, if all components work as directed, the Empire is much like a well-honed machine.
“As a Member Planet, Angolis is responsible for paying taxes and tributes. Taxes will be paid in the form of raw materials and goods native to your world that would benefit the greater Empire. Tributes come in the form of volunteer troops for the Imperial military. Every world is required to commit a certain number of troops, depending on the planet’s population.
“As I said before, you have become part of a much wider society. Your world should, within a standard Imperial year, which for your people would be…”
The small robot suddenly popped up behind the Emperor. “Three point six Angolian years, sire,” said Delta.
“Ah, thank you, Delta. Yes, within about four of your years, your world should begin receiving ships from your nearest neighbors interested in trade, commerce and the exchanging of ideas. The rewards of your inclusion will be great in this respect. However, admittance in this great civilization also comes with certain dangers; my Empire is threatened by opposing forces both large and small, and there is every chance that at some point, your world may be targeted. This is one of the many reasons why it is so important to ensure that you meet the quota for troops: for the safety of you, your neighboring worlds, and the Empire as a whole.
“Now, turning to currency…”
As the Emperor continued to speak to his most recent conquest, his bridge crew went about their duties quietly. The theatricality the Emperor had used upon his arrival to this planet was no longer necessary. While before the crew had had to wait in silence until after first contact had been made, they now worked at their various tasks diligently.
As Diamond, the comm. officer monitored the stability of the connection with the planet, one of the lights on his console began to blink silently. Surprised by the unexpected communication, Diamond accessed the message.
[†╬ERROR: Acces═╨╓ Denied: AuthorizatiФn Code
Required‡╫]
[‡╬Priority One Mes╤╨ge f/ Xenlong Mil. HQ╫†]
The corruption in the message seemed odd to Diamond. Messages had been garbled before on this campaign, but nothing that had looked like that.
Diamond input his code.
The next second, the geometrical being’s world turned upside down. His sensory inputs (organic and technological) were overwhelmed and everything in his system flickered then went dark.
The next instant, everything was perfectly normal. The readout on both Diamond’s internal sensors and his console showed that the strange episode had lasted only a few seconds.
What an incredibly odd occurrence. Is there something wrong with me that my sensors haven’t detected? Perhaps I should visit the med bay after my shift.
Putting his own brief unbalance out of his mind, Diamond immediately pinged Delta. The major-domo droid hovered over to the Prizmid.
“I assume this is important, Chief Communications Officer Diamond?” asked Delta. Silently, Diamond linked the message to Delta. Lights flickered across the droid’s screen, possibly in the equivalent of an organic creature’s face flushing. Diamond noticed that as the lights played out, the little bot’s usually steady hover gave way to a slight bob for just a moment.
Without a word, Delta immediately turned and hovered back to his Emperor.
“….which should have an exchange rate of twenty-eight to one, while…”
“Pardon me, sire,” spoke Delta.
The Emperor turned to regard his aid, who would only interrupt something like this if it was truly important.
“My lord, we’ve found him.”
The Emperor’s eyes widened, and for a moment the daily workings of his government were forgotten.
The Angolans nervously turned to one another, none of them certain what was going on. Before any of them could say anything, the Emperor began speaking again.
“I am afraid we shall have to cut this short. Here are the final, most important items you should know:
“Slavery, in any form, even that which is supported by government or religion, is hereby abolished and outlawed. Any world found to be openly engaged in the enslavement of its own people or the people of any other world shall be punished to the full extent of Imperial law.
“I understand that my presence may cause some disturbance in your world’s religions. Therefore, you may, if you wish, worship me as a god, though I make no claims of divinity.
“Now, I address my governor. While you shall be invested with a large amount of new power, you are to never declare yourself higher than me. As well, sedition is not tolerated, and any world found trying to leave the Empire shall be dealt with. Severely.
“My final two items are these: an Imperial Administrator shall be departing from this ship to aid in the transition of your world into the Empire. This Administrator shall compile a report that will be presented to the Imperial Inspection Ships, who shall arrive at your world an Imperial year from now. Be aware that if anything befalls this Administrator, or if your world attempts to reassert its independence, these ships are empowered to act in my stead to bring wayward new worlds back in line. Additionally, a small patrol of Imperial ships shall be assigned to your system. They shall serve as watchmen and protectors until your world becomes more integrated into the Empire.”
The Emperor leaned forward.
“There are many wonderful reasons to remain a part of this Empire, my new allies, and there are just as many reasons why defying me will only end badly.”
He leaned back again and smiled.
“Welcome to the Xenlongian Empire, Angolis. A bright future is before you.” With that, the screen went dark.
The Emperor’s throne revolved away from the viewscreen that was situated in front of the bridge window, showing the planet beneath them.
“What do we know?” he asked Delta.
Delta projected the message in front of his Emperor, whose eyes quickly scanned over it. A smile appeared on his face again.
“Have the crew prepare for an announcement,” commanded Xandarius, thoughtfully stroking his beard.
Delta activated the ship’s internal communication and announced:
“Attention, Throneship crew and passengers. His Highness, Emperor Xandarius the Conqueror, has an announcement.”
The Emperor leaned towards his robotic assistant, who transmitted his voice throughout the ship.
“Loyal defenders of the Empire, this is your Emperor. Moments ago, we received a message from the homeworld concerning the ongoing war with the Starlite Imperium. After six years, the Golden Emperor, that treacherous, sun-spotted snake, has been located. As of this moment, the current campaign conquest is at an end. We shall resupply and rearm at the nearest Imperial Military Center, after which we shall be returning to the frontline.
“It is my hope that in the coming weeks, we shall be able to end this war once and for all, and free the galaxy from the tyranny of the Golden Pretender. I have no doubt that each and every one of you will give everything you can in pursuit of victory. For Peace! For Unity! For the Empire!”
Cries of “For the Empire!” rang through the ship as the occupants prepared themselves for the coming fight.
Delta terminated the transmission. “Very inspiring, sire. Your orders?”
“Have the Administrator team prepped and departed as soon as absolutely possible. What’s the nearest Military Center?”
A brief flurry of lights flickered across Delta’s screen.
“Epsilon, sire. Approximately two weeks away at max speed.”