Frontline

by Z H Brown

  Princess Trinius reached out and took one of Alvara’s hands, before looking the sergeant straight in her eye.

  “You are truly a testament to all the good that our father and his work have done. Without him, it’s likely none of us would be here right now, with horrors like the Star Eater and the Golden Emperor out there.”

  Ansaria was somewhat taken aback at the young woman’s sudden display of maturity and statesmanship, but her brother spoke before either of the soldiers could say anything.

  “No need to be so serious, sis,” said Jasona, sipping on a bluish-green drink. “After all, the Star Eater is atoms, and the Golden Emperor is now none other than our dear, old dad!” he laughed at his own wit.

  At that moment, their conversation was brought to an end; Epsilon had quietly informed Xandarius that everything was ready, and the Emperor once again addressed the assembly.

  “My friends, the time has come.”

  At his words, a familiar, blinding-white aura field of light suddenly engulfed Ansaria’s vision. When the glow faded and her senses returned to her, she noticed first that she was outside, beneath the massive translucent canopy, and second she noticed the sudden roaring of a good-sized crowed arrayed beneath them.

  Did Xandarius really arrange to have us all teleported three-hundred feet just to make an entrance?

  The Emperor of the Xenlongian Empire stood tall amongst all of those on the balcony. The monarch’s fiery aura was surging around him in a steady pattern like a flame from a blowtorch. He raised his golden, glowing hands and the roar of the crowd intensified.

  “Citizens and soldiers of the Empire, natives and visitors of Xenlong, honored guests,” Xandarius voice boomed from out of speakers scattered throughout the courtyard. Even those in the far back could hear the Emperor like he was addressing them personally. “I, Xandarius; conqueror, ruler and liberator of Xenlong and its protectorates, welcome you to this service to commemorate our victory over the extragalactic Star Eater!”

  Ansaria scanned the crowd. She picked out her squad members quickly, given that they were almost front-row center. Tread and Slog waved to their friends, while Critter stood on top of Tread’s head, waving his arms energetically to be seen. Ansaria had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh. The crowd cheered once more at the declaration of victory, while in the warm, midday air the Imperial banners flapped in the wind.

  “But before we memorialize this triumph, there are two matters that must be attended to. The first is an award long overdue to the young woman who fired the fateful shot that killed the beast, Sergeant Alvara of Gorgon!”

  Alvara’s face froze in shock. Colonel Fornost came over and placed a hand on her shoulder so he could gently lead her closer to the Emperor. Queen Zira handed her husband a small wooden box, which he opened and extracted a shiny medal from. The award was rather plain looking: a simple silver disk with a gleaming, indigo streak giving it the appearance of a stylized eye.

  “The Dragon’s Eye is the highest honor a marksman can attain from the Empire, and today, I award it to Sergeant Alvara for her skill and for being the one to finally put down the invading monster!”

  Ansaria once again looked over the crowd, this time focusing on the Gorgonian dignitary. His face was masked, and while he applauded, he did so with far less enthusiasm than the rest. She wondered if he was conflicted about applauding a so-called ‘monster’ while at the same time proud that someone from Gorgon was in the spotlight.

  Xandarius placed the medal upon Alvara’s armor, who had recovered enough of her senses to salute the Emperor before bowing and coming back over to Ansaria’s side. Ansaria patted her friend’s back in congratulations, while smiling broadly at how taken aback her second-in-command was.

  The Emperor raised his arms once again, and the cheering died down so that he could be heard.

  “The second business that we must attend to is the remembrance of those who made that ultimate sacrifice in this battle. All told, more than one-hundred and twenty thousand Imperial soldiers and citizens gave their lives defending their homes, their families, their empire, and their galaxy.”

  An orb of pure-white light manifested in the air. It was eye-level with Xandarius, meaning it floated above both the balcony that Ansaria and the rest were present on, but high above the crowd as well. The spectators pointed excitedly at it, before having to shield their eyes as the sphere grew brighter and brighter before exploding harmlessly. In its place was a massive, rectangular slab, completely black with a sheen to it that was lessened by the shroud covering the courtyard, floating horizontally above the crowd. It was hard to tell exactly how large the block was; though she guessed it was about the same length as the Emperor’s height.

  Xandarius raised his hands, stretching them out as though to grab the ebony wedge floating before him. His hands began to glow with golden energy once more. The glow intensified for a few moments, causing his eyes to pulse with energy and his ever-present aura to flicker like a flame taking to a fresh wick. At last, he waved his hand slowly through the air before him, and Ansaria gasped as she saw what he was doing.

  As the Emperor’s glowing hand moved, lines of script appeared in neat, even rows from one side of the slab to the other. The lines glowed with the same intensity of Xandarius’ hands and eyes, before he had accomplished his feat and the glow faded to its normal level. Likewise, the lines dimmed until they no longer glowed at all, but instead reveled iron-gray text etched into the stone.

  “This memorial bares the names of every Imperial that gave their lives fighting the Star Eater,” Xandarius voice was solemn and slow, his every word impacting on those listening. “Copies of it shall be placed outside the Imperial Senate, and on the homeworld of every species whose members appear here, but this one shall be placed in the main courtyard of this palace, so that the defense of those they knew, and those that will never know them, will always be remembered.”

  Ansaria saw a number of those in attendance openly weeping.

  How many of them have friends and relatives on that stone?

  Xandarius telekinetically lowered the memorial to the ground, where workers were waiting to transport it to its new resting place on the palace lawn. He cleared his throat before speaking again, a smile coming to his lips.

  “But let us not forget, that while we are here to mourn the loss of those that made the ultimate sacrifice, we are also here to celebrate their glorious victory, for the dread monster, the supposedly-unstoppable-nightmare-from-another-galaxy, that unholy beast, the Star Eater is not only dead, but nothing more than atomic vapor, a victim of the very star it sought to consume!”

  Another orb of white energy materialized above the crowd. This one too expanded quickly until harmlessly bursting and leaving behind another mineral block, this one, apparently, composed of solid gold. Ansaria’s eyes widened; she had never seen such a massive pillar of material wealth. Like the other slab, this lump of metal was about equal in size to Xandarius. In fact, it looked like Xandarius would be able to fit comfortably, if tightly, inside of the block; Ansaria wondered how such a sculpting canvas was created, and how much of the gold had come in tribute from protectorate worlds.

  Xandarius raised his hands once more, and the glow of his new-powers once again intensified. This time, the light surrounded the entire pillar, so that it seemed like the golden metal was glowing with its own luminosity. As the brightness reached its peak, Xandarius once again began moving his hands, only this time, instead of slowly moving them, he was now pulling and twisting with his entire arms, as though he was trying to free himself from an invisible elastic bond. After a few moments of this, Xandarius lowered his arms and the glow again died down. When the glow vanished from the slab, however, the audience let loose with a mighty cheer.

  The massive mold of metal had been transformed into a statue of pure gold. An enormous orb, its surface covered in wrinkles, peaks and valleys, dominated the piece. On the ‘face’ of the orb (or, rather, sun, as Ansaria now real
ized it to be), was the Star Eater, rendered in such detail that it looked like it had been sculpted from a three-dimensional scan of the creature. The tiny model was much larger in proportion to the star than it had been, but then so were the ships surrounding it. A recreation of the Throneship that was larger than the Star Eater’s model was surrounded by Imperial vessels: She could see the Firestorm, in the middle of charging an attack; she saw the Rose Thorn, unloading with all of its long-range energy weapons; she recognized a lone Conqueror-class vessel that she wagered was probably the Stormfront; she saw a trio of Blood Wolfs, all engaged in firing their weapons in a three-pronged, synchronized assault, as well as a half-dozen other ships. All of them were emitting thin strands of gold that simulated energy beams, all of them about to converge on the Star Eater, which was twisting in pain as though it had already taken a barrage like this before. At the base of the statue, etched into the metal like they had been on the ebony block, was an inscription:

  Defeat of the Star Eater

  by the Glorious Imperial Navy 120 RXC

  “This statue,” boomed the voice of Xandarius, who, compared to his somber address a few moments ago, was positively beaming, “shall stand outside the Imperial Senate along with a copy of the victims of that battle, so that all future generations will be able to see the power of Xenlong, and the fate that awaits all those that threatens us!” He thrust his fist out above the crowd.

  “LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!”

  The crowd roared back.

  “LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!”

  “LONG LIVE XANDARIUS!”

  “LONG LIVE THE NEW GOLDEN EMPEROR!”

  The ceremony had ended soon after that, with the Emperor declaring a week-long celebration throughout the capital. The festivities from Xenxing could be heard from the courtyard, but deep within the palace, outside the private study of Xandarius that looked out over the empty desert, all Ansaria could hear were her own doubts and worries.

  Xandarius had once again completely ignored the contributions made by the Imperium and had downplayed Eberius and his people’s involvement as well. While these facts weren’t exactly being suppressed, Ansaria was worried that the average Imperial citizen could get the idea that Xenlong had slain the enemy single-handedly; not a single Starlite vessel was present on the statue Xandarius had created, and, again, no mention of their involvement on the piece either. ‘Future generations’ would probably only learn about the Golden and Ebon involvement as a factoid from Imperial scholars.

  And then there was Xandarius’ not-very-encouraging final declaration against all those that ‘stood against’ the Empire. Ansaria felt a cold pit of dread fill the bottom of her stomach; was Xandarius going to take advantage of this situation and finish things with the Imperium once and for all? Public support was a fickle thing: protesters against the war had been around since it had begun, but they had always been ignored at best and accused of collusion at worst. Recent events had swung toward supporting the new-found peace, but it wouldn’t take much to convince the populace that the best way to ensure a lasting peace was to eliminate the greatest enemy they had known for nearly half a century: the Imperium.

  Ansaria was forced from her depressing hover-train of thought when the door to the Emperor’s sanctuary opened to admit her.

  Xandarius was once again staring out at the desert; however, this time it was one that was bright and hot, while the room itself was mercifully cool and shaded, though that was mitigated somewhat by the ever-present glow of the Emperor. As she did last time, Ansaria approached to a respectful distance before stopping and dropping to one knee.

  “You summoned me, sire?”

  “Yes, captain,” said Xandarius, continuing to stare off into the desert. “Did you enjoy the ceremony?”

  Ansaria briefly considered voicing the concerns she had been grappling with in the hall, but ultimately decided that there would be a better time and place.

  “The display was quite impressive, sire. I was unaware the Flame was capable of such things.”

  Xandarius pulled his gaze from the bleak landscape to instead inspect his own, metallic-and-flame coated hand, which he squeezed into a fist, causing the power he wielded to briefly flare before settling down.

  “I am certain that as time goes on, there will be no limit to what I can do with this power.”

  Ansaria felt cold dread once more.

  “But that’s not why I asked you here today, captain…at least not the main reason,” he laughed at something that completely escaped Ansaria. “No, I asked you here because I need you to do something for me.”

  Thinking back to the last time Xandarius had invited her here, she quickly began formulating another mental rejection.

  “I need you to extend an invitation to Prince Eberius to attend a summit between the prince, myself, and the new ruler of the Golden Imperium.”

  Ansaria was so taken aback by this unexpected request that she stared, slightly opened mouthed at the back of Xandarius seat without answering for several moments before she composed herself.

  “Of…of course, I will, Your Majesty,” she managed to choke out.

  “Excellent! I would like you to compose a video message, which will be included on a data-tablet with all of the additional pertinent information. I would like you have this completed before tomorrow evening, so we can send it to the Ebon fleet as soon as possible.”

  While Ansaria was elated at this assignment, she couldn’t ignore the curiosity burning within her. “May I ask, sire: why me? Surely Administrator Epsilon or even you yourself could craft a message for the prince.”

  “True, but you and the Prince have a personal relationship, whereas he and I have only spoken once, in less than optimal conditions. As such, I believe he would appreciate hearing from you, and in doing so would be more amenable to attending.” He waved his hand absently in her direction. “Now, dismissed, captain; you have an invitation to record.”

  Chapter XXXVII

  The Triperium Conference

  Father, exciting news! After days upon days of busywork, tinkering, training and recreational escapes, we received a surprise visit from a Xenlongian ship. The ship came bearing a diplomatic message, which also happened to include a message from Ansaria! It seems her ruler, Xandarius, wants to hold some kind of conference between the three forces that opposed the Star Eater. He wants to meet in this system, aboard a neutral ship to discuss terms for future alliances. I know that everything we discuss will be conditional upon your approval, but this is exactly what the crew needed to hear. They have a purpose out here once again, and after this, we’ll finally be able to head for home.

  Truly, I long to feel the actual rays of Cereluia upon my skin once more.

  --From the private log of Prince Eberius, Fourth of His Name, Crown Prince of the Ebon Empire.

  Ansaria found herself absently tapping her armor in impatience and forced herself to stop. A few moments later, however, her foot started tapping on the metallic floor of the non-Imperial ship they were currently aboard. Ansaria again tried to stamp down her eagerness to get the conference going so she could see Eberius again, and attempted to match the same level of patient stillness as those around her.

  It was a small group, waiting to be summoned into the meeting room. Xandarius, his fiery aura filling the waiting area with a soft, steady, golden glow, wore his ceremonial half-cape; the Emperor was quiet and pensive, silently mulling over whatever matters of solar-system-shaking importance he was going to discuss in his head. The ever-faithful Guard Captain Fornost stood by his monarch’s side, equally silent, in his gleaming, reflective armor with his large, dragon-horned helmet on and his lance held firmly in one hand. The only other people present were Ansaria and her squad (the representatives had all agreed to a maximum of six guards for the event); Oasis Squad was in shiny, polished armor, with their weapons all securely fastened, and Eberius’ memento providing a momentary outlet for Ansaria’s anxiety.

  The trip back to the battlegr
ound system had been almost unbearably long, made even more so because they’d had to go out of their way to pick up the meeting ship and transport it with them, or all of the delegates would be waiting around for weeks for the ship to get there on its own. The vessel being used for the conference was owned and operated by the Salfar, a race of long-lived beings that had been exploring the galaxy when Xenlong was still divided into individual kingdoms; the light-skinned biped race had encountered Imperial worlds a couple decades ago, and had proven popular trading partners. Their vessel was one of curves and sweeping forms, with an interior that almost felt, for lack of a better word, rustic; the ship was a far-cry different from the Imperial warships she had served aboard, as well as the Cerulean Spear, but Ansaria still felt comfortable here…she just wished that feeling of comfort would do something to ease her nerves somewhat.

  After the Throneship and its small escort of ships had returned to the battlefield where the Ebon fleet still waited, the only thing that had been left to do was wait for the new leader of the Golden Imperium of Infinite Starlite to arrive. During the lull, Ansaria had heard far too many whispered conversations about the delay and how it signaled an impending Imperium attack; given the chaos that was surely enveloping the Starlite Empire, it seemed likely that the only figure that would be able to grab and maintain power would do so on an intensely xenophobic and warlike platform, and that any negotiation would be either brief and so one-sided as to be unacceptable, or a smokescreen for a new Golden offensive. These words angered and sadden Ansaria; time and time again, it was clear that those around her were too stuck in their old hatreds to realistically entertain the notion of permanent peace with the Imperium, but what hurt the most was the tiny spark of fear that burned inside of her: the fear that the rumors would turn out to be true.