by Z H Brown
“In case you have to leave before we can meet again.”
Eberius laughed as he slid his black helmet back on. “Only for the most sensible reasons.”
Chapter XXXV
Recuperation and Recriminations
When I told Ansaria that she was the most remarkable woman I had ever met, I meant it. Her accomplishments are inspiring, and I have personally borne witness to her ferocity and prowess in battle. As for her alien beauty, I hesitate to use the word “exotic" since I am sure that it's the exact word that the courtesans will use when their tongues start to wag about these events. However, while I've met strong, beautiful, exotic women ... what it is that draws me to her is unlike anything I have ever known.
--From the private log of Prince Eberius, Fourth of His Name, Crown Prince of the Ebon Empire.
After finally tearing herself from Eberius’ cabin and retrieving her rifle from the Ebon soldier, she rejoined her squad. Judging by the smirk on Alvara’s face, Ansaria knew that her giddiness remained apparent to her friend despite her attempt to suppress it.
The flight back to the Throneship was a whirlwind of scenarios inside Ansaria’s mind. "Could’ve beens”
and "what ifs,” questions unasked and questions only suddenly formed, hopes and fears about the future; all these things and more consumed her. So occupied was she with her thoughts that she was startled by the gentle shudder of the Harbinger craft setting down in the hangar.
When the captain, her sergeant and her corporal arrived on the bridge, they were present to a grand sight. As they stepped off the transport to approach the Emperor, who stood between his Captain of the Guard and Supreme Admiral against the backdrop of occupied space, a massive flash of gold flooded the bridge. However, as Ansaria blinked against it, she found that it had not come from the recently-empowered Xandarius, but from the departing Golden Imperium Fleet.
“They sure left in a hurry,” muttered Slog, barely loud enough for Ansaria to hear.
“Indeed,” said Xandarius' full-toned voice from the other side of the bridge. Everyone else looked at their emperor in confusion, but Ansaria and Slog looked at each other. Had he really heard Slog’s comment? Did that new Flame power come with super-powered hearing? Xandarius continued, “However, given that the head of their military, government, and religion was obliterated along with a sizable chunk of their military leadership and resources, the Infinite Imperium is in a…unenviable position.” He paused for a moment, and then continued, “And possibly a position we can exploit. As such, they have much to sort out back home, and gathered up the majority of their ships to leave, with a terse expression of appreciation for ‘assistance rendered’ and a thinly veiled threat against becoming 'accustomed to the presence of the divine and most Glorious Golden Flame of Tamia.' They left a few small flotillas to continue assisting with reclamation and search and rescue.”
The Emperor turned from the ship-filled starscape through the dome to the trio of Imperial heroes, golden energy flickering and dancing as it spilled from his eyes. “Now, Captain, I would be greatly interested in what you managed to learn about our still-enigmatic allies.” Ansaria swallowed nervously, suddenly self-conscious about her reunion; she’d been so enthralled with how their meeting had ended that every thought of logistics and intelligence gathering had been driven completely from her mind.
After swallowing a few more times to make sure that her voice did not come out awkwardly and possibly raise suspicion (she had no doubt that the temporary members of her squad that had accompanied them had picked up on her demeanor, and it would no doubt make the rounds through the Royal Guard like an epidemic,) she composed herself before beginning her debriefing.
“Prince Eberius was dispatched by his father, the ruler of the Ebon Empire, to scout for the arrival of the Star Eater after they had been forewarned by an unknown source,” Ansaria read the look on Xandarius’ face and added “I also asked if they received the information from an A.I., which he denied. I had no reason to disbelieve him.”
“But he didn’t say exactly what their source was?” asked the Emperor.
“No, sire. He could not reveal it on the grounds of state security.”
Xandarius regarded her with a steady, burning gaze for a few silent moments before speaking again.
“Very well. Continue,”
“Once he had located the invader, he was to gauge its strength and either engage it himself, or return with the information to his people, who would then decide whether to attack the beast immediately, or to fortify their territory in preparation for its eventual appearance. However, our own discovery of the creature changed the mission parameters; he decided to hold his forces back until an opportunity presented itself, or it was clear we were outmatched. Obviously, we all know how that turned out.”
Smiles and low chuckles filled the bridge. Even Colonel Fornost failed to suppress a smile. Only Xandarius (and Admiral Eve’Rest, though that was no fault of his own) remained stony faced, regarding the three soldiers with an inscrutable look. Ansaria continued.
“With his mission complete, Eberius…er, the Prince has decided to remain in this part of space for the time being - officially, to strengthen relations with the forces that nearly slew the Star Eater themselves.”
Xandarius settled back on his throne, his golden, flame-covered hand stroking his chin pensively.
“What is your estimation of the relative strength of the Ebon Empire, captain?”
Ansaria was surprised by the question, but she recovered quickly to answer. “Prince Eberius was uncertain if his people would have been able to handle the Star Eater on their own, and seemed even more doubtful that they could have stopped it if it had been allowed to feed and grow stronger beforehand.”
Xandarius considered this for a moment before asking his next question.
“The Prince has only the ships he brought with him? No other forces spread through the area?”
“He was dispatched with only a small scouting fleet, sire; the entirety of which is present.”
The Emperor nodded absently at her answer. His last question really tripped Ansaria up:
“Do you believe that the Prince, his forces or his empire pose a threat to Xenlong or its protectorate worlds?”
Was he really worried about Eberius being the front-runner to an invasion? After everything the Xenlongian and Golden empires had suffered, was his next focus really on ascertaining the threat of an apparently far-off people?
“No, sire. I believe that Eberius and his forces are here for the reasons given. Nothing that I saw or heard indicated that the prince or his father intend on making enemies of us.”
Once again, Ansaria was unable to discern what was going on in that royal head. Xandarius regarded her with a scrutinizing look, as though he was attempting to use his new powers to peer into the truth of her words. A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead, but this time it was from the intensity of his look, rather than from a projection of his powers. Finally, after what seemed like several intense seconds, Xandarius nodded a few times.
“Thank you for your service, Captain Dormus. You and your soldiers are dismissed for some well-deserved R&R.” Turning to the green Prizmid communications officer, he directed orders. “Dispatch a third of the ships here to aid in the recovery of our forces; I want us to depart for Xenlong before the day is out.”
Ansaria, Slog and Alvara bowed to their emperor before turning to leave the bridge.
The rest of the day seemed a now-familiar, juxtaposing combination of briskness and sluggishness for Ansaria. Her thoughts' shifted anxiously between her emerging feelings for Eberius and Xandarius’ constant suspicion. Outside of her own head, the ship was buzzing with cheer and celebration, while a slight pallor hung over those that had lost family or friends, or simply mourned the tragic loss of life.
Any time Ansaria or her squad were outside of their cabin, they couldn’t take more than a few steps without being bombarded with praise, pats, handshakes,
and some who simply flung themselves upon the heroes, almost believing that they had saved their empire single-handedly. Alvara especially was the subject of adulation, given that she had fired the killing blast; when she had entered the mess hall, an explosion of cheers nearly deafened her, and the Gorgonian woman was hoisted up, her long, gold-scaled body being supported by flesh, metal, tentacles, telekinetic powers and strange ganglia.
Despite the elated mood that suffused the ship, Ansaria was anxious to have her squad complete again. Word was that the Mountain Storm was helping with rescuing stranded fighters and escape pods in the battlefield where they had been stationed, so Tread and Critter had yet to reunite with their comrades. She had considered contacting Xandarius directly and asking him permission to teleport her squad mates back, but had decided against it; there was too much to do to worry about instantly transporting a sergeant and a corporal.
As the clean-up continued and the day dragged on, Ansaria’s concerns turned to the future. With the Star Eater dead, what did that mean for her squad? She assumed that they would continue to serve as part of His Majesty’s Royal Guard, though it was also possible that Xandarius would find something for them to do besides protect him. Of course, that also raised the question of exactly what would (or indeed could) happen between her and Eberius. The Prince would have to return home eventually and there was no guarantee that they would ever see each other again. The galaxy was a big place, and even with the Xenlongians' relatively long lifespan of approximately 750 years, their positions could keep them busy for the rest of their lives.
How long do Ebons live, anyway? She had wondered apprehensively.
She toyed with the idea of requesting a leave of absence. She could go with Eberius when he left, or take a ship and follow him at a later date, but that just raised new problems. How long would she be able to be let go for? Eberius had said that it would take several weeks to get home, which meant at least a few months, minimum.
And if she did go, would she go by herself? While she was confident in her ability to handle any situation that might come up, being so far from everyone and everything she knew was frankly daunting and somewhat frightening... even if she would be with a person she trusted and cared for. She was sure that her squad would join her if asked, but it might be asking too much to get an entire team of Imperial Royal Guards an extended leave.
These thoughts and others equally distressing consumed Ansaria’s mind as she engaged in a post-dinner workout. However, her preoccupation with the future was briefly forgotten as Tread and Critter unexpectedly entered the squad cabin.
“Welcome back!” cried Ansaria, a little breathlessly as she was in the middle of sit-ups.
As she stood up to quickly towel off, Slog and Alvara came out to greet their friends. Once freshened, Ansaria embraced the android in a tight hug before offering a finger to her diminutive teammate to shake vigorously with his tiny hands.
“How did you get back?” Ansaria asked.
“Once it had been determined that the majority of our forces had been recovered, His Majesty ordered us to be returned to the Throneship in preparation for its departure. As such, we were teleported back moments ago.”
“How’d the rescue go?” asked Slog, who was leaning casually against the desk. Critter answered, his chattering voice noticeably tinged with sadness. Only a third of those recovered alive had remained so, most succumbing to horrendous injuries or vacuum exposure.
“Come on Crit, you know you can’t save everyone,” said Alvara reasonably. Critter heaved a heavy sigh before sitting down on Tread’s shoulder to absently kick his legs.
“You did everything you could. You know it, and we know it,” said Ansaria. Critter halfheartedly agreed, before quickly changing the subject, emitting a rapid fire congratulation to Alvara.
“Indeed, 'Vara: the footage of your headshot has circulated throughout the fleet; we’ve both seen it a number of times.”
Ansaria thought Alvara had gotten used to the compliments that had showered the Gorgonian woman since the Star Eater’s death, but her friend’s face flushed red at hearing the praise from her comrades.
“It was a team effort; I wouldn’t have had that shot if Eberius’ fleet hadn’t stunned it.”
The mention of the mysterious prince immediately shifted the topic of interest. Critter once again rapidly emitted a series of questions and comments, this time to his captain.
“Yes, we are most eager to hear how your reunion went,” agreed Tread, once Critter had finally let up.
Now it was Ansaria’s turn to flush, as their parting kiss came to the forefront of her mind. She coughed and took a drink of water to give her a minute to compose herself before answering. She gave a more detailed description of her encounter, though again keeping the more…private components of the meeting out of the conversation, though she doubted that her omission would fool any of them. However, they did not press the subject, which she appreciated.
“I am glad that the prince will be remaining for the time being; it would have been most distressing if you were relegated to yet another fleeting encounter,” Tread said, his voice inflecting compassionately.
Ansaria smiled at her synthetic friend. “Thanks, T.”
Before anyone else could speak, an announcement went out throughout the ship.
~All hands, prepare for Z-space departure. Destination: Xenlong.~
The atmosphere aboard the Throneship on its long trip back to Xenlong contrasted brightly with the austere voyage to the Arrival Point. Before, the crew aboard the flagship had been filled with determination, fear and awareness that the weight of the galaxy rested on their shoulders against an adversary of then-unknown capabilities, their focus unwavering. This time, while not quite erupting into a complete free-for-all of festivity, crewmembers (and even a few officers) congregated in the halls, talking excitedly about how they planned to celebrate back home with friends and loved ones. Superiors had at least loosened the rules enough to allow for some minor celebration to occupy the crew's time. The mess hall had turned into the biggest party the Throneship had ever seen. Food and drink was being constantly provided, and the small amount of alcohol aboard had also made its way to the mess and was being passed around freely. After a sip of this, a shot of that, and a swig of something extremely repugnant from a flask that smelled like battery acid, most beings left the hall swaying (just a little.)
While the celebratory mood extended even to the upper echelons of command, the bridge crew chattering freely to each other and over comms. as they went about their duties and Colonel Fornost sporting an almost perpetually confident grin, there was one person notably less enthusiastic than the rest. Xandarius spent almost all of his time in his private sanctum, with scuttlebutt amongst the guard saying that he was planning on how to "exploit the new power vacuum in the Imperium" and also exploring his new powers. Since she heard nothing from the others about the Ebon fleet, it likely meant that the emperor did not consider it a pressing issue, which came as a relief to Ansaria. The few times she saw her sovereign’s face, it was fixed in concentration and contemplation.
Still, even the dour mood of her leader and her lingering uncertainty about her situation with Eberius, couldn’t dampen Ansaria’s spirit. It seemed like, as days of inescapable happiness and good cheer passed and they drew closer to home, Ansaria felt a weight lift from her chest that had been present ever since Reno had forced her to blow her base and take her squad on the run. She spent her waking hours sparring with her Star Saber against other weapon users in the training room, occasionally going hand-to-hand against Alvara. One of the local maintenance bots had kept a running tally of their wins and losses, fueling a friendly competition until the call for rematches ended and they settled on a draw. The captain also spent time with Tread’s Ion Squad, joining them in simulation battles sometimes as an ally and sometimes an adversary. As with Alvara, they were almost equally matched.
“Ya know,” said Ansaria breathlessly after a pa
rticularly tough battle in which her squad had all had their weapons fried by the robotic opponents. “In a real battle, I could win in a second; all I’d have to do would be to reach out with my mind and ‘CRUNCH’!” The members of her team all laughed, enjoying the banter.
“And in a real battle, captain, my squad would not be using non-lethal rounds; in fact, two of my members would be able to eliminate you with a precision shot before you would be able to locate and eliminate all of us telekinetically,” countered Tread evenly as he wiped down his ion blaster with his lone hand. His machine soldiers chuckled in harsh, synthetic voices and emitted beeps and whirs of agreement.
“So…call it a draw?”
“Actually, we’ve all calculated that given enough time, we would actually be able to defeat you in more times overall in future matches, making it, at best, a fifty-one/forty-nine split…but I suppose we can call it a draw."
The young captain of course also found time to assist Critter as he worked incessantly on his battle machine. The suit had been brought over with Tread and Critter at the Woodlings’s request and the Emperor’s permission. Ansaria was a gofer more than anything, mostly helping by fetching tools and providing an extra set of hands, but she was just happy to spend time with her little friend. She also provided feedback on his design choices.
“Why a purple body with teal limbs?” she asked, baffled by the random color choice and pattern.
Critter explained that in his people’s past, a great warrior, with a unique skin and hair color of teal and purple, respectively, had brought peace to an era of feuding tribes. Since then, great warriors and tribe leaders had used the colors when they felt they had done something worthy of displaying them.
“You should tell Alvara that story; I’d bet she’d appreciate it. As for the design, while it’s certainly not my first choice, it sounds like it means a lot to you, so I say go with it.” Critter chattered excitedly, now working to repair the machine's many micro-damages before the new paint job could be applied.