by Z H Brown
A shadow crossed the Emperor’s face.
“Can we be certain that we will still have that wretch’s whereabouts in two weeks?”
“Oh, yes, sire. All our evidence indicates that the false one shall be remaining on the front for the time being.”
“Excellent! Navigator, set course for Imperial Military Center Epsilon!”
A hissing, clinking voice responded.
“At oncccce, your majessssty.”
Xandarius turned his throne back towards the window and the planet below. “You won’t escape me this time,” whispered the Emperor darkly. “At last, the Golden Flame shall be mine.”
An hour and a half later, a small craft, barely larger than the transport used by The Seven, descended from the belly of the massive throne ship orbiting Angolis. Once the ship confirmed that it had landed safety, the Throneship adjusted its trajectory and activated its faster-than-light engine, disappearing into a black and purple void.
The Administrator ship landed on the same landing pad as The Seven’s craft. The same people who had attended the conference with the Emperor were assembled to greet their new overlord’s representative. They were also accompanied by a small security detail; though that seemed more a matter of habit that practicality, given the presence of the superheroes.
The departure of the ship had sent the world into speculation, and calls and messages were flooding the Capital Building and the private communications of the Executive Council members and the heroes. For the moment, any outside the gathering were being told nothing.
A ramp from the long, blocky ship descended in a hiss of hydraulics. Four soldiers marched down the ramp, all holding their weapons at arms. Their armor consisted of a black under-suit with hard, but flexible gray armor covering the torso, shins, forearms and shoulders, and each soldier wore a gray helmet that completely masked their faces behind black visors. On their right breast they each bore a circular symbol of a stylized black dragon. Three of the soldiers had the same body type as the Angolans themselves, while one was a six-limbed being who had a two-armed torso on top of a quadruped lower half.
As the soldiers stood at attention, a tall figure appeared at the top of the ramp. The creature’s suit resembled that of a deep-sea diver, all yellow with black gloves and boots, a black utility belt and an opaque, porthole-esque viewing glass through which the gathered Angolans could make out a slim, snouted, purple face. The figure walked down the ramp toward the assembled group. It stopped just short of them and fumbled around in a pocket on its suit. Expecting an atmospheric scanner, or a translator, the Angolans were a little surprised when the figure withdrew a simple cloth from its pocket and wiped its viewing glass, blinking its tiny eyes and glancing about.
“Ah, that’s better,” rasped the creature with satisfaction.
The Administrator reached into another pocket and this time produced a small, metallic device that struck Omegazon as looking an awful lot like a data pad.
“My name is Administrator Raksh. Welcome to the Empire!” the creature said with enthusiasm.
He handed the device to Omegazon. As soon as he took it, the screen lit up and displayed a message:
The Newcomers’ Guide to the Empire
Chapter IV
COMMAND
Imperial membership consists of two types of worlds: Member worlds and Colony worlds. Member worlds are primarily comprised of the homeworlds of species conquered by the Emperor, and are all permitted representation in the Imperial Senate. Colony worlds are worlds founded by Imperial citizens, and lack the numbers to be given Member world status. Colony worlds can still voice their opinions in the Senate, but have no power until their population reaches 100 million Imperial citizens.
-- Excerpt from The Newcomer’s Guide to the Empire
Having recently returned from patrol, Sergeant Ansaria Dormus walked down the hall of her squad’s base, fresh from the shower and in a new change of clothes. Her long, black hair was pulled back in a tight pony tail, and a dark gray tank top contrasted her alabaster-white skin and hinted at her well-toned abs.
She passed by Alvara’s room. Ansaria was not surprised to see her first squad mate and best friend working out despite having just returned from patrol herself. The serpent tail that made up her lower half wrapped around a sturdy bar attached to the ceiling while she performed crunches. She was also clothed in the same drab, gray top that Ansaria was, and her golden hair- thrice as long as Ansaria’s- was also pulled back in a ponytail.
“You’re no good to me dead, M. Be sure you take some kind of break today,” said Ansaria in passing, using the shorthand for Alvara’s nickname, Medusa.
“Whatever…you say…Sarge,” grunted Alvara, not missing a stride.
Ansaria rolled her eyes fondly and continued down the hall, stopping at her next squadmate’s room. While Alvara’s room was plain and utilitarian, with only a scattering of holozines to give sign of the occupant’s interests, this room was filled top to bottom, wall to wall with high-tech equipment. The room’s android occupant was hard at work on repairing one of his multiple weapons.
“Good news, Tread, we got word from the technicians: your network uplink relay should be fixed in a week and a half,” the commanding officer said.
“Good news, indeed, sergeant. I do find actually having to read orders and updates to be quite tiresome. I honestly do not know how you biologicals do this on a daily basis,” responded the android without looking up from his equipment.
“Well, Tread, if reading the old-fashioned way is too taxing for you, perhaps you should think to keep a backup relay for when accidents happen.”
At this, Tread looked up at Ansaria, setting his tools down. “For the record, sergeant, that was my backup relay. My previous relay was destroyed when Slog accidentally dropped an ATHV on me.”
“Then perhaps you should think twice before you do something stupid that leads to your only remaining relay getting busted,” Ansaria teased.
“In my defense, I was unaware that the level of electricity in use was capable of causing damage. Besides, it was Slog’s and Critter’s idea.”
“Well, try not to let those two talk you into doing anything that could cost you another part when they get back, all right?”
Tread gave a quick salute. “Will do, sergeant.”
Ansaria stepped out, doubtful that her words would be heeded. The rest of her squad was on patrol, so she passed their empty rooms and continued down the hall.
When Ansaria reached the common area, she slung herself over the back of the large sofa. She used her Imperial standard-issue All-purpose Technological Interface Gauntlet (A-TIG, or often just called TIG) on her arm to activate the large display screen in front of her.
The channel that the display was set to was the Imperial News Network, a 26-hour-a-Xenlongian-day stream of information from all corners of the Empire. As the network was based on Xenlong, home planet to Ansaria, the newscasters visually resembled her, though the two on the screen kept their hair short, with the woman’s framing her face, and the man’s slicked back. The two were just wrapping up a story.
“-which brings the total number of worlds within the Imperial borders infested by Amalgabeasts to six,” said the female anchor.
The camera cut to the male anchor.
“Returning to our top story; we have received news, direct from the Throneship, that the Emperor of the Golden Imperium of Infinite Starlite has finally been found. For those viewers new to the Empire, the Golden Emperor is the leader of a corrupt interstellar government that engages in unethical practices such as slavery across hundreds of worlds while exploiting and exhausting every world within its borders. The Empire has been at war with the Golden Empire for the last thirty-eight Imperial years, and the false Emperor has not been seen since the Battle of Telos Nine, when the Empire delivered a devastating defeat to the pretender’s forces six years ago. Emperor Xandarius has announced that he is cutting his current campaign of conquest short in order to
immediately join the frontlines.”
A jumble of thoughts swirled though Ansaria. She’d been stuck on this dusty rock in the middle of nowhere for the last sixteen months, but her whole life, what she’d really wanted was to be fighting on the front, bringing freedom and civilization to beleaguered worlds across the galaxy. She’d grown up reading about Xandarius and his glorious battles freeing her people from their oppressors and then personally holding back the abominable Golden Emperor. Unfortunately, she had joined during a lull in the war in the Imperium, relegating her to this unimportant posting on a colony world that shared the same ironic name as the only settlement on the planet: Oasis. She was desperate to join the fight on the front, and now that the war was picking up again, she might have a real chance…
But she was also nervous at the idea of leading her squad into a real battle for the first time. They had trained together, and she knew every member of her squad would follow her orders faithfully and could hold their own, but this was the Imperium she was wanting to fight, not desert outlaws or interplanetary marauders, which were the only opponents she had ever faced. The armies of the Golden Imperium were like constant waves of golden destruction, throwing themselves against Imperial soldiers with seemingly inexhaustible numbers.
Ansaria shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She doubted she would be seeing real combat anytime soon; even if things heated up quickly, the chances of her squad being reassigned were about as good as finding an iceberg in the desert. Better to put those thoughts out of her mind and just accept that she was gonna be stuck on this ancestor-forsaken planet for the foreseeable future...
Space Station Kobol-
A Nearby System
Imperial Security Agent Jandor Rall was extremely anxious to depart. He’d been in this system far too long as it was; for an agent carrying sensitive information, staying in one place for very long was a bad idea.
Still, the layover couldn’t be helped. His ship needed fuel, and after his escape from a fight on a planetoid in a nearby system his Z-engine needed a minor patch up. What should’ve taken a couple of days at most had turned into a week after a huge, nearly-totaled freighter had arrived at the waystation, the recent victim of a pirate attack two systems away.
The space station that Rall was aboard wasn’t staffed to handle a ship the size of the one that had arrived, and Rall’s problems had been put on the back-zapper while the majority of the station’s crew focused on the keeping the mammoth ship in one piece. After days of waiting, Rall had been informed that his ship had been moved up to the work floor. As soon it was fixed and fueled, he’d have his newly-delivered supplies taken aboard and then he’d be on his way. Rall hoped that this delay had not cost him his chance to rendezvous with the Emperor before His Majesty reached the front.
After six days confined to his quarters on the station, Rall had to admit he was getting a tad cooped up. Despite deploying every sensor disrupter he carried, Rall still felt like his pursuer knew he was here. After the confrontation on the planetoid, Rall was dead certain that he had evaded his tracker. But with every day stuck on this station, the certainty grew less and less. Now, he’d give his right arm to be on the move again.
Unfortunately, no amount of self-dismemberment was going to get his ship ready any faster, so Jandor Rall pulled out his A-TIG and checked the encryption on his drive for the hundredth time.
Another part of Space Station Kobol
From its hidden position somewhere aboard the space station, an android known as Reno monitored Jandor Rall. The ISA agent had managed to elude it six days before, but Reno’s connections had led the machine to Kobol. By a fortunate streak of circumstances, Reno found that its prey was still on board the station and would be delayed by several days. With its query now once more within range, Reno had no intention of squandering its chance.
Reno had arrived in the system and had been informed that a freighter was currently being attended to at the space station, and it would have to wait in orbit nearby or find another port. Reno had parked its craft in the designated waiting area before accessing the computer system remotely. After first checking to see if Rall had been to the station, Reno had discovered that he was still on board; the android had abandoned its ship, floated over to the station, overrode the system to let itself aboard and then found an out-of-the-way spot to remain hidden. From there, it began to watch and to plan.
Jandor Rall had covered his tracks well, but even an Imperial Security Agent couldn’t wipe his image from every security recording. Reno had managed to hijack the system and had found its target. Additionally, it had also intercepted the supply list Rall had submitted to the station’s system.
Reno would be alerted once the supplies were being prepared for the agent’s departure. Until then, it would remain hidden. The plan must not be jeopardized. Its instructions flashed red in its vision:
COMMAND: Eliminate target and destroy data.
COMMAND: Preserve the silence.
COMMAND: Ensure the arrival.
The relief that Jandor Rall felt at being back in the pilot’s seat was not enough to overcome the anxiousness of his impending departure. His ship was fueled, fixed and supplied, and he was awaiting his turn to depart. Rall doubted that his tension would be completely eased until he was finally standing before the Emperor.
At last, Rall had his clearance to leave. The Imperial Security Agent fired up his ship and smoothly exited the space station’s hangar bay. Beneath him lay an immense, greenish gas giant, while to his right, and obscuring the system’s sun was the massive freighter, still being attended to by countless machines and work-beings. Rall flew a safe distance away before powering up his Z-Engine. The low, building hum helped put his mind at ease slightly.
After all the terror, death and uncertainty, his goal was before him. Jandor Rall was going to save the Empire.
From its crate in which it was hidden, Reno was alerted by its connection with the ship that they had entered Z-Space. Reactivating, the hunter used one of its finger beams on low power to burn its way out of the crate. Silently exiting the hiding spot, Reno activated its thermal vision setting to locate its target.
COMMAND: Eliminate target and destroy data.
Jandor Rall checked his sensors, confirmed that everything was going smoothly, and then set the ship to auto-pilot. It would be a long trip through Z-Space before he would need to adjust his course, and until then the view offered nothing but a black expanse of slightly shimmering nothingness. Rall climbed out of his seat and opened his cabin door- and found himself face-to-face with the very thing that had been haunting his mind every moment since his narrow escape from the planetoid.
The machine before him had one of its glowing red eyes ringed by a bolt-like shape, with three short metallic ridges ran back across its shiny head. The bottom half of its face was a smooth, featureless plate, and it was clad in a single piece suit, green with yellow markings and trim.
Reno was momentarily stunned when its target suddenly appeared in front of it, but recovered swiftly and brought its right hand finger beam up to bear. Unfortunately, Agent Rall was also quick to recover, and he ducked to the side just before Reno fired.
The blast instead struck the ship’s console, blowing metal and plastic all over the cockpit, which quickly began to fill with smoke. The image in the viewscreen suddenly snapped from the blank expanse of Z-Space to starry regular space, with a brownish-yellow planet the size of a fist, but rapidly enlarging as they flew toward it. Alarms sounded all throughout the small ship.
Reno lunged forward and grabbed its target.
COMMAND: Preserve the silence.
Jandor Rall struggled against the crushing grip of his metallic opponent. Reno had grabbed Rall by the throat and was preparing to snap his neck. Rall’s hands flew over his belt, searching for his surge current. He finally found it and triggered it, jolting his opponent and causing the android to release Rall.
Rall lashed out with a kick, driving Reno back
and giving him space to draw his side arm. Searing bolts of purple energy struck the machine in the chest four times, driving it down the hall before falling to the floor. Rall rubbed his throat before suddenly comprehending the alarms and turning to face the viewscreen. The planet filled it completely, and the increasing turbulence indicated they were entering the atmosphere.
Rall leapt into his seat and rapidly tried to figure out what was working. He grabbed the flight stick and began doing everything he could to even out their entry into the planet’s atmosphere. A new alarm joined the others, indicating an unsafe entry and prompting the computer to half-successfully begin suggesting course corrections.
Reno sat up in the corridor a short way behind Rall. Its body had repaired itself and compensated for the damage; an extra layer of armor plating had been added to its torso and limbs. Despite the shaking and rocking of the ship, Reno got to its feet and approached Rall; it reached out for the pilot.
The plan must not be jeopardized.
COMMAND: Ensure the arrival.
An All-Terrain Hover Vehicle (ATHV) sat atop a high dune with its two occupants. From their vantage point, they could see the colonial outpost of Oasis, population twelve hundred, and the only inhabited location on the only inhabited world in the system.
Slog sat atop the vehicle, his goggles allowing him to see far out over the outpost and into the empty desert beyond. The squat soldier had short limbs, heavy appendages, a hump that rose over his head, and a thick skull with two, large tusks protruding up from his bottom jaw.
“Let me ask you something, Critter-” said the stocky private. “-you ever wonder why we’re here?”
Chattering sounds filled Slog’s earpiece. His tiny comrade was currently working on the ATHV’s stabilizer, which was acting up once again and causing the craft to tilt occasionally on rough terrain. Critter, as he was known to the squad (his own name being unpronounceable to them), was a tiny fellow, big enough to hold in your hand. He was little more than a ball of brown fur with thin, gray, scaly limbs. Critter was the team mechanic, and he utilized a simple remote controlled drone to affect the repairs; he liked to work close to his projects, rather than view them remotely from the drone’s POV, so he was down near the engine while Slog kept watch.