The Galactic Empress' Bodyguard

by Ben Harrington

  "Thanks. Noted," grunted Colton, and got to his knees, then his feet, then his senses. That last phase was going to take a bit longer than the other two, because he was just now noticing where he was.

  The police station had been, for lack of a better word, dingy. Stained ceiling panels, dirty walls, disgusting floors. The kind of place you get a disease by thinking about.

  This place was... it was unreal. For one, the floor and the walls and the ceiling all kind of melted into each other... both in shape and colour and texture, and— Colton was having a hard time processing it, because he was certain the texture of the floor was changing. Constantly. Like a gentle breeze blowing over a field of wheat.

  The furniture was all very clean and functional, without much room for ornamentation or pizzaz. In fact, the only part of the entire room that was fancy at all was the "central" wall — seemingly the focal point of the space — which had a very large emblem on it. Like a crest, but streamlined. Circles, lines, a fox-like creature, and—

  "We haven't much time," said Deo'ta, pushing on a portion of the wall to reveal a drawer, from which he removed a black suit and pants, and a stark white shirt. "These were made to your measurements. Please change quickly."

  Colton did as he was told, even though he was building up a pretty massive library of questions he desperately needed answers to. He got the shirt buttoned, tucked into his pants, and decided to risk at least one question:

  "Who the fuck am I protecting?"

  Deo'ta handed him a tie. A thin belt. A holster. Shoes and socks. He took them, kept getting dressed while Deo'ta explained: "You are the new chief bodyguard for Empress Ilina Syampi of the Boundless Empire."

  "Empress who of what?" Colton asked.

  "Empress Ilina of the Syampi line," said Deo'ta, with seemingly infinite patience for a man who said he was in a rush. "The tenth of her family to ascend to the throne."

  He handed Colton a gun — a Sig Sauer 226 — and his jacket. Colton left the jacket hanging on Deo'ta's finger while he checked the clip. Odd. The gun was familiar, but the weight was off. Similar, but off.

  Deo'ta noticed the concern: "Our people did their best to replicate your weapons, but our alloys are more... advanced than yours. Differences are to be expected."

  Colton loaded the chamber. Familiar, but off. "And body armor?"

  "There is no point. It would not save you," said Deo'ta, and jiggled the jacket to drive home the hint that Colton still wasn't properly dressed. He snatched it, slung it on, and straightened his tie. He was ready.

  Deo'ta handed him an earpiece; it was smaller than what he was used to, and the second he put it in, it seemed to disappear into his ear canal — which, oddly, didn't freak him out. What was weird was the lack of chatter on the channel.

  "I think it's busted," he said. "The comms."

  "It's not a transmitter, Captain. It's a translator. You will absolutely need it to keep up with what's coming."

  "OK, but how do I communicate with the other agents? Who else is on the team?" he asked.

  "Just you," said Deo'ta.

  Colton's mouth hung open a little. "She's an Empress and I'm her only bodyguard? Are you insane?"

  Deo'ta motioned to the portal on the wall, still shimmering. "You are welcome to go home, if you prefer."

  Colton cricked his neck, shook his head no.

  Deo'ta smiled, waved a hand, and a door on the near wall slid open out of absolutely nowhere. The hall beyond was a different shade of whitish-grey, but still just as imprecise. It was like walking into fog. And yet they did.

  They walked briskly down a long, slightly-curving hallway, with Deo'ta in the lead, talking over his shoulder: "We will go over detailed protocol later, but for now, the key rules are: do not speak unless asked a question. Never make eye contact under any circumstances. Never turn your back to her. And do not touch her, even lightly, or you will be executed on the spot."

  Colton laughed: "Wow, yeah, this is much better than Quincy."

  "Empress Ilina is meeting the Tuforr delegation in... two minutes. We need to have you in place before that happens."

  "We don't like the Tuforr?"

  Deo'ta grinned over his shoulder. "Captain, we do not like anyone."

  They came to a door at the end of the hallway. On the other side, Colton could hear the rumble of dozens of conversations competing with each other for air; it was a large crowd, and it was full of unknowns, and he didn't even know who he was meant to be protecting. He squared his shoulders, hands clasped at his front. Ready for anything.

  Deo'ta took a deep breath to calm his apparent nerves. He nodded to Colton. "I will make introductions. Just remember: no touching the Empress."

  "Got it," said Colton, but as Deo'ta began to turn, another thought shook loose in his mind: "What's the Boundless Empire, anyway? Mediterranean or something?"

  Deo'ta thought for a moment before saying: "As it stands — and given certain political realities that are too complex to unpack at the moment — the central part of the Empire covers the better part of what you call the Milky Way galaxy."

  Colton stared.

  "You have questions," said Deo'ta.

  "Yeah, just a few," said Colton.

  "We have twenty seconds. Pick two."

  The first came really easy: "Are we not on Earth anymore?"

  Deo'ta smiled a very wide smile. "No, Captain. We are on Ifrysillia, the central capital of the Boundless Empire — though it is actually only central if you consider the state of the Empire some 25,000 years ago, and—"

  "OK, next question," said Colton. "You said I was her new chief bodyguard. What's what all about?"

  "The previous six died."

  "OK. Well that's encouraging. How long has she been Empress?"

  "Two weeks."

  "Shit."

  "Yes. Now please, try to keep your head."

  Deo'ta opened the door to reveal a massive ballroom stuffed with... well, everything.

  There were humans, and a lot of them, but not the kind Colton was used to. Some had blue eyes, but not just the irises — the whole eye was blue. Some had gills on their necks, while others had fucking pixie wings on their backs (and unreasonably short skirts, he tried not to notice).

  But that was just the tip of the iceberg. There were creatures that looked like squids with dinosaur mouths, and mini-dinosaurs that stood upright and picked at hors-d'oeuvres with their tiny little hands; there was a blob of slime that seemed to be flirting with a human-sized stick-bug, while a four-legged crystalline creature fended off the advances of what could only be described as a rubber leprechaun.

  And everyone — everyone — wore wild combination of bright colour and weird shapes. It was like a paint factory exploded on them. It was hard to look at...

  ...which was exactly the problem, for a bodyguard. Picking the "wrong" thing out of a crowd would be next to impossible when the whole fucking crowd was wrong. He leaned over to tell Deo'ta, but discovered he was falling behind... he double-timed to catch up.

  "Your Majesty," Deo'ta said, bowing deeply and with great flourish. "Let me introduce to you your new bodyguard. The esteemed Captain Shaw of Earth."

  Colton arrived just in time for the assorted figures standing near Deo'ta to look him up and down like he was some kind of exotic alien who— oh, right. He did his best to look professional, despite the fucking migraine of a fashion show he was drowning in.

  A figure near the wall rose up, and by the way the others bowed, Colton realized this must be the Empress. He tried to remember the rules of engagement: no touching, no... uh... eye contact? That would be pretty simple, since she was wearing a fabric box over her head; it was like someone went to make a veil, but thought: "Nah, needs more right angles."

  Beneath that oddity, the oddities just kept coming. Her neck was obscured by a wildly curving c
ollar that stuck up and out like a pair of sun-curled leaves. Her torso was hard to pinpoint, because she had on a kind of cloak that was cut into strips, at the bottom of which were, apparently, very large jewels. And from what he could see, inside the cloak was—

  He did his best not to flinch, but he was sure he saw tentacles. Like big, meaty tentacles. Her legs and feet were obscured by a long dress, but really, he had no reason to believe she had legs at all. He wondered how tentacles helped her move in a rush — faster, or slower?

  "Captain," she said, and her voice was... normal, actually. Regal, sure, but human-sounding. "We are most pleased to have you with us."

  "Happy to help," he said, and the coterie immediately gasped in horror. It took him a second to realize why: don't speak unless asked a question. She'd made a statement, not asked a question. He'd fucked up already. "Shit, sorry," he said, which really didn't help.

  Deo'ta started stammering an apology, and Colton looked away, to seem appropriately chastised. He was off to a bad start, and he might be in for some kind of galactic flogging... but all things considered, it was still slightly better than Quincy.

  Something caught his attention, out of the corner of his eye. Someone in the crowd not moving at all. With so much chaos all around, the lack of chaos stuck out like a sore thumb. The culprit was wearing a plain blue cloak and had a human face, but the freakiest fucking hairdo in history.

  Colton half-turned to see the guy better, when he noticed another blue-cloak standing too still, too. And then, a ways away, a third. They weren't looking at him, or anywhere near the Empress. But they were all staring at one spot in particular.

  Up to the second-floor balcony. Dark, deserted, quiet.

  Except for a brief glint of light.

  A sniper.

  8

  Colton had lots of experience with snipers, all of which boiled down to two important facts: if you saw them, it meant they were ready to shoot. And worse, if they were that ready to shoot, you were pretty much fucked.

  It didn't mean you wouldn't try.

  Every muscle in his body tensed at once as he threw himself directly at the Empress, arms leading the way to grab and cradle her as they went crashing to the ground at the feet of her attendants.

  There was a shriek from somewhere nearby, but it wasn't at the social faux-pas of touching the Empress — it was because one of her ladies-in-waiting had a crackling, watermelon-sized hole in her chest, and wasn't sure what to make of it before she died.

  The other servants and socialites finally caught up to reality, and they screamed as they rushed for the exits.

  Two more were taken out by errant blasts meant for the Empress. The sniper was sloppy, aiming loose and broad and—

  —or he was clearing a path for his comrades.

  "We've gotta move," Colton said to the Empress, who had pinned to the ground beneath him. She was shivering in fear, but didn't make a sound. "Stay behind me, stay low, don't panic."

  She nodded, beneath the box veil, and he pulled his gun from the holster. Light and weird, but workable. Safety off. Ready to roll.

  Using the crowd as shelter, he crawled back the way he'd come, to the door to the hallway. He had no idea if it was a smart exit, but it was the only one he knew. The Empress slid along behind him, playing her part better than seemed reasonable. Almost like she'd done this before. Oh right.

  He could finally see the door, just a few feet away. The distance from here to there was exposed, but—

  A yelp caught his attention — he turned to see a squid-man collapse as his torso partially disintegrated beneath him. Behind him, stalking forward, was one of the blue-cloaks. His eyes were locked on Colton — and his weapon looked way cooler.

  But it's not the tool, it's the craftsman; Colton laid one bullet in the blue-cloak's chest (a bit off... the balance was weird!) and the second in his head. He took a moment to fall, which gave Colton enough time to yank the Empress forward, clearing those last few feet in no time at all.

  The door didn't open. "Fuck!" said Colton, searching for a handle or a knob or anything to make the fucking thing open. He felt a terrible sense of being exposed, and instinctively swung around, firing two shots up at the balcony — just as a return blast crashed into the door beside him. The volume of his gun was clearly freaking people out, because the screaming around him got louder, more frantic.

  Luckily, the door had a hole in it now, and a sizeable one at that. Colton peered in — empty! — and pushed the Empress through.

  He saw another blue-cloak heading his way as he climbed into the hole, and took a moment to shoot their fucking throat. He didn't stick around to see them fall, because he had a feeling the sniper was just about ready to take another shot.

  The Empress was already halfway down the hall when he caught up with her. She was moving with a whole lot of urgency, and not much direction.

  "Where's safe?" he asked her.

  "Where's safe?" she asked. "Where is safe? Nowhere's safe!"

  Colton grabbed her by one of her leaf-collars and yanked her back, which was obviously a major no-no, but he didn't really give a shit anymore. "I need you to calm the fuck down and put on your thinking cap, your Majesty, because right now, you're the only one who knows where we are, or what where we're going. So I'm asking you again: where can we go that is safe?"

  She took a shuddering breath, then nodded and pointed to a hallway that branched off to the left. "The jewel room," she said. "It's secure."

  "Good," he said, and gave her a little shove to get her moving. "Fast."

  She started to run, which is is when he realized she had actual legs beneath that dress, and she knew how to use them. Her tentacles were waving around pretty loose at her sides, but she was hitting the ground like an experienced sprinter. It made things a whole lot easier...

  ...until the wall next to her exploded in sparks and flames, and he realized they were being followed.

  He pointed to the Empress and shouted: "Down! Now!"

  She threw herself flat on the ground as another blast tore past, exploding at the end of the hall.

  Colton smacked himself against the wall and turned to see the last of the blue-cloaks getting ready to fire again — and this time, his target wasn't going to escape in the nick of time. He had her. There was no way to miss.

  Colton's mind deconstructed the situation in a fraction of a second, but it felt like an eternity: shoot the chest, and the assassin has enough time to pull the trigger before he dies. Shoot the head, and the body seizes, and the gun goes off anyway. But shoot the hand first and—

  Colton's bullet didn't quite hit the hand (balance!) but it did hit the weapon itself, and that made the weapon explode quite violently, turning the assassin into a kind of pulpy shit-kebab. It was impressive, in a disgusting sort of way.

  Colton rushed to the Empress, who was struggling to get back to her feet. He pulled her up by her collar again — it was the only part of her that looked sturdy enough — and caught his breath: "Jewel room?"

  She nodded, waved her hand, and a door a few feet away slid open out of nowhere. He gave her a little shove, and they tucked inside the room before the door slid shut again.

  The jewel room wasn't especially big, or especially jewel-y. It was cylindrical, and an odd matte grey that seemed to defy shadows entirely. If he hadn't seen several magic doors appear over the last ten minutes, Colton would have wondered if they had the wrong place... but he knew better by now. Nothing in this place was what it seemed.

  "Who else can open this door?" he asked, checking his clip; not great.

  "Senior palace staff, and the Minister of the Treasury."

  "How many of them do you trust?"

  Her silence spoke volumes.

  He backed up, looked for alternate exits. None were apparent, which was both a blessing and a curse: it meant no one else was
getting in except through the front door. But it also meant their options were—

  Boom went a noise, like a dull stomp made by an obese elephant. Someone was at the door. And they had firepower.

  The sniper.

  Colton pushed the Empress to the left, as far as she could go. Not that it would help much, since the room was round and there were no corners to hide in, but he hoped it might buy her a little time after the breach.

  Boom went the door. He checked his clip again. Fuck. He just did that. He was losing his touch.

  "Whatever happens, you stay put," he said to the Empress.

  Boom went the door, and he re-gripped his gun, got into position.

  "Can you stop him?" asked the Empress, with a kind of "oh fuck, I just realized we're gonna die" tone to her voice. "You can stop him, can't you?"

  Colton took a bracing breath, ready to fire. "Let's hope so."

  Boom again, and then suddenly the door slid open, and—

  Colton lowered his gun in shock. Deo'ta was there, flanked by soldiers. The sniper's smouldering body was sprayed all over the hallway.

  Colton stopped holding his breath.

  "Well done, Captain," said Deo'ta. "I knew I could count on you."

  9

  The council chambers were like an over-dressed boardroom for self-important people. While the rest of the palace thus far had been plain to the point of absurdity, this room was layered with gold, quartz, shimmering energy waves, and all kinds of lush fabrics. There was barely a square inch of the walls that wasn't covered in one crest or another. It was fucking hard to look at, and it was everywhere.

  They passed a ring of fire, placed at the end of the central table, atop a pillar of something that looked like granite, if granite had been imagined by a seriously fucked up individual. The flames were mesmerizing, but Colton didn't have time for that.

  He escorted the Empress to the head of the room, standing guard while she and she conferred with Deo'ta.

  There were about two dozen people at or around the large table, chittering away about what had just transpired. Just eyeballing it, about half of them were squids, or squid-like humanoids, like the Empress. Tentacles this way and that, gesturing angrily, shivering in fear.