by Z H Brown
Ansaria led her friends deep into the festivities, scooping up whatever they saw that looked good along their way. The noise and energy of the group allowed them to melt in, though they were still recognized by those that had their wits about them. Ansaria lost track of how many drinks were offered to her by fans, comrades and admirers. Alvara as well was almost constantly swarmed, everyone wishing to shake the hand of the woman that had delivered the killing blow.
Ansaria was uncertain how long they were there for, but she was starting to feel extremely pleasant, if a little wobbly in her knees, when a golden fireball blazed to life above the revelers’ heads. Xandarius had conjured the blaze to get everyone’s attention, as he stood up at the table, holding his goblet in preparation for a toast.
“My brave soldiers of Xenlong, for the last few weeks, we have all known nothing but dread and uncertainty. We were told that an unstoppable killing machine was bearing down upon us, one whose kind had already nearly consumed an entire galaxy. We were told that our chances of victory were slim to none,” he paused, his fiery gaze sweeping over the room. “And yet, here we stand, the triumphant, while our enemy’s ashes orbit a star that would have served as its first meal, and instead now is a reminder of the might of Xenlong! FOR THE EMPIRE!” He bellowed the last part before draining his cup.
The call was carried throughout the hall, while everyone with a drink took a deep draft as well. Ansaria could feel annoyance at the Emperor’s dismissal of the Imperium once again bubbling up beneath the pleasant effects of the alcohol. Still, she couldn’t deny that they had indeed triumphed over a foe that had been said to be nearly unstoppable; if that wasn’t worth drinking to, what was?”
Xandarius had his goblet refilled before holding it up once more.
“But of course, the ultimate victory in the battle came thanks to the skill and ability of one Imperial soldier in particular: Sergeant Alvara of Oasis Squad! A toast, to the Serpent Sharpshooter!”
A roar of approval went up in the hall, one which Ansaria and others happily joined in with. Everyone around the Gorgonian woman raised their drinks in salute to her, while those closest slapped her on the back and shoulders, nearly making Alvara spill her drink. Ansaria couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Alvara’s face; as embarrassment and pride warred equally within, her face was a deep crimson and she had her head down slightly like she was trying to avoid being seen, but at the same time a beaming smile was plastered across her face.
Xandarius had his cup refilled before holding it up a third time as his face became solemn and serious.
“And finally, let us give a toast in memory of and in honor to those brave souls that are not here to celebrate this victory with us because they made the ultimate sacrifice: to the brave soldiers of Xenlong and its protectorate worlds!” Xandarius poured half the contents of the cup on the ground, where it was quickly cleaned up by a maintenance drone, before draining the rest of the cup himself.
Around Ansaria, everyone raised their glasses in silent remembrance before taking a sip. However, she did not; whether it was a one drink too many, or one slight on Xandarius’ part too many or a combination of the two, something inside of the captain made her abandon any sense of tact or appropriateness, before raising her glass high above her head and saying, in a clear voice that carried across the quiet room: “And to allies, both living and honored dead, without whom-" she paused a fleeting moment, feeling her next words were forcing themselves out of her like a held breath, "we would have failed.” Then, she emptied her glass.
Despite her boldness, she had not yet had the bravery to look away from her own glass but she could feel all eyes upon her. While things were starting to become slightly blurry, Ansaria willed her eyes straight enough to find out Xandarius’ reaction. The fiery monarch was looking at her with the intensity of a point-defense laser. It felt like time had halted as the two started intently at each other, neither one willing to make the first concession.
However, the tension was broken as a handful of voices around the room took up the cry of: “To our allies, and their honored dead!” Even those who didn’t utter the phrase still took a drink in solidarity. About a third of those in the room refused to drink, most of them Xenlongian, but from across the spectrum of guards, soldiers, dignitaries and civilians. At the head table, Queen Zira raised her glass silently before taking a drink, as did Commander Fornost and Admiral Travay. While the elder Fornost did not raise his glass, he also did not abstain from taking a drink, although it was clear from the look on his face that he found the entire situation uncomfortable. Xandarius, Xandarian, and Venrius all notably refused to drink.
As Xandarius sat back down, the party once again began to pick up, as the guests continued where they had left off before the toast. Xandarius continued to regard Ansaria with his intense gaze for a few more moments before he was drawn into a conversation with his wife.
Ansaria jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder; a sudden panic flashed through her mind about being led away for a ‘talk’ by some of the disapproving partygoers, and she balled up one hand into a fist, before she saw who had approached her.
“I can’t believe you did that,” said Alvara in a low voice, very close to her C.O. “Exactly how many have you had tonight?”
Ansaria groaned before raising her glass to take a drink, only to find it disappointingly empty. As she made her way towards one of the many places to procure a drink, she continued her conversation with her friend.
“Not enough to black out the memory of doing that, though I suppose the night is still young.” As they reached a small table stocked with chilled bottles, Ansaria randomly picked up a green bottle before refilling her glass. She also wasn’t so drunk that she didn’t notice a couple of nearby guests (a Xenlongian and a Packmember), give her a very severe look before pointedly moving away.
Alvara waited for her to continue, which she did after taking a long drink. She stared absently into her glass, swirling the contents around. “I guess I just got tired of hearing that we won the battle all by ourselves, or just with Eberius’ help, when the Imperium lost twice as many soldiers, along with their leader; we couldn’t have done it without them. You know it, I know it, anyone who was there should know it, but it seems like Xandarius is always forgetting that fact.”
Alvara nodded in sympathy. “You’re right; the Imperium deserves just as much credit as anyone. At least most of the people here seem to get that.”
Ansaria sighed as she took another drink.
“Yeah, but it’s the ones that don’t that I’m worried about.”
The festivities ended not long after Xandarius and the royal family quietly slipped away. As the partygoers began to trickle out of the great hall, being led away by servants, Ansaria was trying to corral her squad while also trying to maintain her balance and remember which way left and right were. Alvara had sunk so low to the ground that she was almost sliding along on her torso, mumbling something about ‘getting the boat to stop rocking,' while Tread was awkwardly holding up Slog, who was teetering this way and that due to being so top heavy. Critter was simply passed out on a small floating platform that was slaved to follow Tread.
Somehow, the group made it back to their quarters, where they all slept heavily well into the next day. They awoke one by one, everyone but Tread suffering from the after-effects of the party. As Slog blearily eyed his TIG, perusing the wild correspondences he had sent to his long-distance love-interest after heavy imbibing, he discovered a message from the Administrator: in three days’ time, a ceremony would be held to publicly commemorate the victory over the Star Eater. Until then, all returning Imperial soldiers were granted leave into the city.
“Thank the ancestors, 'cause it’s gonna take at least that long to recover from this,” said Ansaria as she fought down a wave of nausea and vertigo. While the majority of the squad spent the rest of the day recuperating, Tread set out on his own, going out to explore the palace and the city and to interact with o
ther synthetics. He returned to their shared quarters not long after sundown, finding his comrades in much better states then had left them.
The next day, with the squad now almost completely recovered, they decided to visit Xenxing together. Ansaria, Alvara and Slog wore the fatigues assigned to Royal Guards that were black, strikingly contrasted to the white of their usual armor. Ansaria decided to wear her sword into the city, not because she was expecting trouble, but mainly because it was a familiar and comforting presence, and she felt naked without it and the strip of cloth from her mutual admirer.
The massive front doors of the palace swung open for them, briefly blinding them with sunlight while a wave of heat washed over them. As their eyes adjusted, they saw the long, steep hill of steps that led to the gate that separated the palace from the rest of the city. Beings were walking, crawling, slithering, hovering, hopping, driving and flying up and down the steps, every single person on a mission for the palace, the throne or the government.
By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, everyone except Tread and Alvara was covered in sweat, the heat of the late morning sun already intense. Slog tugged at the collar of his clothes, internally cursing the dark color.
“Sheesh, cap'n, tell me this is the worst summers get around here.”
Ansaria laughed. “We have seasons on other parts of the planet, Slog, but Xenxing only has two: the dry season, and the wet season, and the dry season is just getting started.”
Slog cursed under his breath. “Why is it every planet we wind up on is always sand, but no beach? Honestly, is a few days' leave somewhere where you can cool off in the water too much to ask for?"
“Don’t worry, Slog, I’m sure anyone with as many tentacles as your girl spends plenty of time at the beach,” said Alvara.
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” said Slog, smiling and tapping one tusk absently.
The gates had four doors, but only two were open at the moment. A steady stream of people entered and exited, watched by on-duty Royal Guards, cameras, sensors, drones and security features Ansaria couldn’t even begin to guess at.
The low buildings contained many overhangs and awnings, mercifully reducing the heat and light on the streets. All around them Imperial citizens went about their lives, the vast majority being Xenlongians that towered over most, but visible throughout the crowd was a mixture of synthetic and organic beings from across the empire. Ansaria spied plenty of gray-fatigued, off-duty Imperial soldiers, creating islands of iron gray amongst the masses. Troops on shore leave entered and left business all along the street, while vendors tried to entice more into spending their money at their locations.
Ansaria and her squad melted into the crowd; her worries that they would be recognized as the famous Oasis Squad (especially Alvara, given how different she looked from the average Gorgonian), seemed to be unnecessary, as no one spared them a second glance, seeing just another group of soldiers on shore leave.
As they moved deeper into the city, they stopped to check out sights that interested them. Ansaria pointed out a restaurant that sold a tender and tasty meat on a stick, while Tread was almost impossible to pull away from a salesperson trying to sell him an attachment that could swap between his weapon and another hand.
“Tread, I can assure you that any upgrades you buy on the street will fizzle out after a month, if you’re lucky.”
Tread sighed, which was something Ansaria didn’t think she had ever seen before. “You are probably right, though I must find out if any of the trusted manufacturers have created such a product.”
Slog was likewise drawn towards a tech product display, though in his case it was for a weapon modification to his robotic arm.
“Come on, cap'n, think about how unstoppable I’d be if I had a micro-rocket launcher installed on this beauty!”
“Did you not hear me talking to Tread just on the other block?”
Alvara meanwhile was enraptured by a fashion display showing a tunic that looked to be about the quality of Queen Zira’s garments. The material was light, with a slight sheen that accentuated the models' figures excellently. Critter got into a disagreement with one shopkeeper after he was found crawling all over the body of a floor model of a multi-purpose heavy-duty drone.
As the sun passed its midday apex and began its downward trek toward the horizon, a loud commotion attracted their attention. While out of sight, the noise could be heard over the usual drone of a large crowd. It wasn’t until they passed through a winding street and out into an open plaza that they found the source of the ruckus.
Two large groups were angrily yelling back and forth at each other, while gray-uniformed civilian peace-keepers kept the two groups separate from each other. A ring of observers had formed around the group shouting match, watching and commenting to each other; Imperial soldiers could be seen amongst both groups, as well as amongst the onlookers.
Given the level and amount of shouting going on, it was difficult for Ansaria to make out exactly what all the uproar was about. Seeing a nearby Xenlongian peace-keeper who was merely keeping the observers at a distance, Ansaria gestured for the others to follow her to him.
“Afternoon, officer,” said Ansaria, raising a hand to help get his attention. “What seems to be the trouble here?”
The peace-keeper, an older male with a thick, graying goatee and receding hair, looked over the group briefly before crossing his arms and sighing tiredly.
“They’ve been hollering at each other since this morning,” said the peace-keeper in a rough, gravelly voice. He pointed at one of the groups, many of whom were waving banners and signs depicting both the Imperial dragon and the semi-eclipsed sun of the Imperium. Now a little closer to the action, Ansaria could here many of them yelling “the war is over!” and “let peace reign!”
“Those folks were on their way to the palace to put on a demonstration in support of a permanent peace between us and the Goldies. However, His Majesty asked the group to relocate as they were getting in the way of those arriving to prepare for some ceremony this week, and so they eventually made their way here…” He pointed at the opposing group, separated by a wall of riot-gear equipped peace-keepers, along with a handful of durable law-enforcement bots. This group was waving exclusively Imperial flags and banners, and any depictions of the Imperium’s symbol were defaced or crossed out. “Which is where those people came in; the peaceniks were making a ruckus as they went, and apparently what they’re selling left a bad taste in some folks' mouths…or beaks or proboscis or simulated taste buds or whatever…but that group got together pretty fast, and came marching up, shouting about ‘no peace with false gods’ and ‘finish the job, Emperor Xandarius!’” he shook his head warily. “The two groups started shouting and screaming at each other, and a nearby peace-keeper called in for some back-up to make sure some damn fool doesn’t lose their head, sucker-punch somebody and start a riot in the capital.”
Ansaria looked over the groups once again, more closely this time. Those supporting the peace between the two great interstellar powers were closer in age to her, with an above-average number of non-Xenlongians amongst them. Those standing closest to the peace-keepers and the opposition were standing with their upper limbs interlocked, forming a wall of solidarity in support of peace.
The pro-war party, however, had whipped itself into a nearly frothing craze. While both groups were yelling in support of their own cause and disparaging the other, the anti-Imperium assembly were all yelling themselves hoarse, as if each and every member were trying to make their support for their war and affront to peace with their long time enemy heard by the peace-supporters. The war party was made of mainly older Xenlongians, though there were also plenty of aliens amongst them. Ansaria was surprised to recognize some of the faces from the Throneship, though she wasn’t sure why it surprised her; Xandarius’ ignoring of the Imperium’s contribution only seemed to validate the opinion of the hardliners that the peace was only a temporary necessity.
“Say…” he said, looking over the squad more closely this time. “Are you the…what’s
their name…Oracle Squad? Orbit Squad?”
“Oasis Squad?” suggested Slog helpfully, before Ansaria could say anything.
“That’s it! And that’s you, isn’t it? You guys are the heroes that have been all over the network, aren’t you?”
Seeing that there would be little use in denying it at this point, Ansaria nodded reluctantly.
The officer gave a guffaw of laughter and wiped his sweaty brow. “Praise the ancestors and His Majesty, if anyone can get this simmering situation to calm down, it’s you folks. You wanna say something? I’m sure I could find a voice amplifier for you to use if you give me a sec…”
Once again, before Ansaria could say anything for or against the idea, the peace-keeper was waving over some of his fellow officers, who formed a buffer to bring the squad to the heart of the standoff. By the time they’d reached it, someone had indeed found a small voice amplifier and thrust it into her palm.