Empire's End: Episode 11: Honor and Nobility Page 2

  “Just remember that once you are crowned, there are numerous issues you must address.”

  Idrib turned and gave her a withering look. Did she really believe he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation he was stepping into?

  “I am well aware of the state of the Empire,” he said. “And I know what must be done.”

  “Of course!” she said. “God would not have placed you here if you were not the right person.

  “However, I remain concerned about the mood of the Graur. Your proposal to fill the Council of Nine was first opposed by Graur senators. So was my candidacy to be seated on the Council. And the final vote to elevate you was four-to-one, with Renakh Nakuur the lone voice of dissent.

  “The Graur complain of low representation in the Senate and the Council of Nine. They are feeling ignored and dismissed during this crisis. I believe soothing their hurts is the first priority for your reign.”

  “The first priority of my reign is to re-establish order, Emello,” Idrib spat.

  He turned and faced her fully. Since when had she become such a pacifier?

  “Lawlessness runs rampant throughout the galaxy,” he went on. “That needs to be suppressed as quickly as possible.”

  “I agree,” she said, spreading her hands. “But let us not forget that the Graur dominate the ranks of the military and police forces. I believe you can secure their cooperation much faster if you make them feel heard.”

  “Secure their cooperation?” he roared. He stepped closer. “They are Imperial citizens, Emello. They have pledged their loyalty to the throne. Those in the military and Space Rangers have sworn their lives to protect and defend our principles. Are you suggesting that if I don’t mollify them, they will commit treason?”

  “Of course not. Loyalty and honor are the hallmarks of Graur culture. I am saying they will serve more ardently if you give them the impression you are their friend.”

  Idrib blinked at his co-conspirator. She wasn’t making any sense.

  “In less than an hour, I will be Emperor. The Emperor has no friends. He is the voice of God incarnate. He is the law. The people accept this. Those who do not are traitors.”

  Emello frowned. She studied Idrib for several seconds without commenting. Irritation gnawed at Idrib’s brain.

  “Speak, Emello. Say whatever it is that is on your mind.”

  “I worry about you, Idrib. All that you say is true, but an Emperor, no matter how divine, must have cooperation to rule. The Graur are a fierce enemy. While it is inconceivable they would revolt, they can make your reign difficult and unproductive if they perceive you as a foe.”

  “I know how to handle the Graur,” he said. “They want honor and conquest. I’ll give them both in ample amounts.”

  “Do not forget either that an emperor must walk in the light of God to hold the crown. You are here because God wanted it, Idrib. Don’t let your ambition blind you to his word. He can remove you as easily as he elevated you.”

  Idrib snorted derisively. Easy? Had Emello already forgotten how difficult it had been for them to actually execute God’s will? How many obstacles they had had to overcome to achieve what God had asked of them?

  “God speaks to me, Emello,” he said. “You may think you or the Hierophant are the ones who bring his message to me, but you are mistaken. I know God’s will. He whispers it to me every night.

  “The Graur will do what I say, because they are loyal subjects of the Empire. They know my word is God’s. Those that defy it pit themselves against the Almighty. The Graur know God is the one foe even they cannot defeat.”

  She nodded. Idrib wasn’t sure she accepted what he said, but he didn’t care. Soon, he would be Emperor. Then, the fate of the galaxy would be between him and God. Anyone else who got in the way would die.

  JaQuan changed out of his ship suit and into his Levi’s, t-shirt, and leather jacket. He didn’t care how practical the ship suit was. The clothes were all he had left of Earth, and he was damned if he was leaving them behind.

  He grabbed his tablet and the photo of Gwen too. He didn’t know why he was still keeping it. She’d abandoned him in favor of the Space Rangers and her misguided sense of duty three years ago. And she’d tried to kill him back at the Horari Belt, despite his having saved her life at The Outpost.

  But his heart still yearned for her. So far as he knew, she was still alive. If he ever saw her again, she’d probably try to arrest him for kidnapping. Or shoot him.

  She was the only decent thing he’d found in the Empire, though, along with his friendships with the crew of Cataan’s Claw. He couldn’t just let go of her.

  By the time he reached the cargo bay, Rischa and Alan were arguing. Alan, too, had changed clothes. He wore the tunic, trousers, and boots typical of the Empire, and a hooded black cloak was tied around his shoulders. A sword hung from the belt on his left hip.

  JaQuan shook his head. Alan looked like a refugee from a Renaissance festival.

  “Come on, Rischa,” he was saying. “Don’t do me like that. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  “JaQuan’s my friend too,” she said. “And you fried him with that thing.”

  Ah. So while Shinzaa was tending Lanaliel, Rischa was in charge of dispensing weapons. Alan wanted his fucking electroray gun.

  “That was an accident!” Alan protested.

  Rischa folded her arms.

  “And I don’t want to see another accident like it,” she said. “Especially not with me as the victim.”

  “I also saved his life with that thing,” Alan said.

  “You can save his life with a beamer. Shinzaa gave me explicit orders not to let you have your electroray gun.”

  Alan flung his hands in the air and turned away from her. Fury poured over his face. He spied JaQuan and immediately hustled over to him.

  “JaQuan,” he said, “will you talk to her?”

  “You seriously want me to ask her to give you an electroray gun after you burned me with one at The Outpost?” he said.

  Rischa hid a smile. Alan looked outraged.

  “I kept that fucking space bug from chewing your face off!” he cried.

  “Man, why is that damned gun so important to you?” JaQuan asked. “A beamer is more precise and more likely to kill. Why do you want to use something that’s less reliable?”

  Alan couldn’t meet his gaze. He studied the deck.

  “I just like it. That’s all,” he said.

  JaQuan crossed his arms and threw a hard stare at Alan. The younger man glanced up at him, saw the look, and dropped his eyes again.

  “Bullshit,” JaQuan said. “What’s the real reason?”

  Alan shifted from foot to foot. Finally, he met JaQuan’s gaze.

  “When I was a kid I read a lot of comic books,” he said. “There was this one hero, Black Vulcan. He could shoot lightning from his hands. I liked that.

  “I liked him. There aren’t that many black superheroes, you know? When you see black guys in comics, they’re usually villains. Or sidekicks. I mean, even The Falcon was Captain America’s partner. He wasn’t his own guy.

  “But Black Vulcan wasn’t anybody’s sidekick. He was the main hero. He was someone I could identify with. He was black, and he was badass. And he was a good guy. So, you know, an electroray gun . . .”

  His voice trailed away, unable to finish the confession. JaQuan stared at him for several seconds.

  “You know Black Vulcan started out as the token black on Superfriends, right?” he said. “That it was so racist they had to put ‘Black’ in his name. He couldn’t just be ‘Vulcan’ or ‘Lightning Man’ or something.”

  “So?” Alan replied. “He got his own book. He became his own hero. His stories were black.”

  JaQuan nodded. He turned to Rischa.

  “Let him have his electroray gun,” he said.

  Rischa stared at him incredulously for several seconds. She scowled.

  “Shinzaa’s going to be furious,” she
said.

  “We’re all fucked anyway, Rischa,” JaQuan said. “We may as well go out the way we want to.”

  She nodded.

  “All right, come with me,” she said. “I’ll get it for you.”

  “Thanks,” Alan said. “Both of you.”

  “Just don’t make me regret it,” JaQuan said.

  “Or me,” Rischa added.

  JaQuan smiled. He couldn’t fix any other damned thing with this fucked-up situation, but if Alan could go down as the superhero he’d always wanted to be, well, that seemed worth it.

  When he reached the lander, Shinzaa and Mrahr were approaching slowly, each supporting Lanaliel. The big Mandran still had a chunk of metal protruding from his left thigh. The leg was wrapped in bandages, and Shinzaa had immobilized it with a brace. Blood stained the dressings around the wound.

  Lanaliel’s brown face was a mask of pain. Blood stained the white stripe between his eyes in gory, little, red dots. His Mandran stoicism remained intact, but JaQuan could see in his eyes that he was in agony.

  He was also missing a third of his left horn. He looked broken and defeated, a mockery of the strong, intelligent, thoughtful creature JaQuan knew.

  “Jesus, Shinzaa,” JaQuan said. “You couldn’t remove the metal from his leg?”

  “Most of the medical machines are offline, damaged in the crash,” she said. “Aarghun and I cut away all the excess shrapnel, but removing what’s actually inside him will require surgery.”

  “And there’s no guarantee the leg can be saved,” Mrahr added.

  God damn it. Brody and Cooressa had fucked them up really badly. The ship was lost, Kitekh had a broken arm and would have to throw away her dignity before the Tribal Council, and now Lanaliel would be lucky to survive with both his legs.

  “We need to get him medical attention as soon as we’re planet-side,” Shinzaa said. “I’ve given him painkillers and antiseptics, but he needs a hospital.”

  “Fuck me,” JaQuan said.

  “Do not despair, my friend,” Lanaliel said, his voice weak. “Our fate remains very much in our hands.”

  JaQuan gaped at Lanaliel. Sometimes, his Mandran stoicism and philosophy were beyond all belief.

  Shinzaa and Mrahr helped him up the ramp of the lander. JaQuan watched them go, his heart full of regret.

  He was about to follow, when Kitekh and Rorgun approached, flanking Brody and Cooressa. The two Graur leveled beamer pistols at the prisoners. JaQuan frowned again. Kitekh, with her arm in a cast and a sling, must have felt weak and pathetic to have to use a beamer to keep her treacherous crewmembers in line. Both she and Rorgun eschewed weapons, preferring to fight with their claws.

  “Well, look who it is,” JaQuan taunted. “The co-conspirators. Did they tell you, Brody? Cooressa wants to wipe out the human race too.”

  Brody’s eyes flicked over towards Cooressa. Shame and anguish played across his face.

  “That’s right, dumbass,” JaQuan continued. “Everyone who was ‘helping’ you was actually playing you. You’re a tool, Jim. I don’t think I’ve ever meet a stupider motherfucker in my life.”

  No one said anything. JaQuan supposed there was nothing to add. Cooressa smirked. JaQuan looked at Rorgun.

  “You better get that bitch aboard before I beat the smug look off her face,” he said.

  “Easy, JaQuan,” Rorgun said. “We need her alive.”

  “I didn’t say I’d kill her,” he replied.

  “You cannot defy the will of God,” Cooressa said. “Everything happens according to his plan.”

  “Then enjoy Hell,” JaQuan said.

  “Enough, JaQuan,” Kitekh said. “We’ll see justice is done.

  “Rorgun, get them aboard.”

  The first mate shoved Cooressa forward. He met JaQuan’s gaze as he drove the prisoners up the ramp. His yellow eyes made it clear he agreed with JaQuan. Rorgun would just as soon execute Cooressa for her treachery. But the tactician in him knew they were best served turning her over to the authorities. JaQuan knew Rorgun was right. But he didn’t like it.

  “Is everyone aboard?” Kitekh asked.

  “We’re just waiting on Rischa and Alan.”

  “What? They should have been here first. They were getting the lander ready to fly.”

  “They’re getting Alan his electroray gun,” JaQuan said.

  Fury rose up from Kitekh’s heart and covered her face. JaQuan held up a hand.

  “I told her to do it,” he said.

  Shock replaced the anger on her tabby face.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “It was important to him. For God’s sake, Kitekh, our odds of wriggling out of this mess are pretty long. He may as well have his weapon of choice for the final battle.”

  She stared at him for several seconds. Then she nodded.

  “You have the soul of a Graur, JaQuan,” she said. “I’m fortunate to have you on my crew and to call you friend.”

  He wasn’t sure how to react. This was the same person who had twice planned to kill him over a betrayal that didn’t happen. She was also the captain who had given him a chance when he had needed a job and a way off Nimia Station.

  “Yeah, well, sorry about getting you into all this shit,” he said.

  “It was unavoidable.”

  “Maybe, but I’m the one who vouched for Brody and got him aboard.”

  “They’d have just found another way, JaQuan. Cooressa’s been on my crew for four years as a sleeper agent. It was always their plan to frame me for this.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better about it,” he said.

  She smiled.

  “Like I said: the soul of a Graur.”

  JaQuan wasn’t sure what to say, but Alan and Rischa relieved him of the need. They rushed across the cargo bay, Alan’s cape flowing behind him. JaQuan grinned. He looked like a superhero.

  “You two are asking to be left behind,” Kitekh said.

  “Don’t blame me,” Rischa said. “I didn’t want any part of this.

  “Here.”

  She handed JaQuan a beamer and holster. He took it and buckled it on. Then he met Kitekh’s gaze.

  “Ready to depart, Captain?” he said.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  The four of them went up the ramp. JaQuan keyed it closed behind them. Then he moved to the pilot’s chair. Kitekh sat next to him.

  “Take us out,” she said.

  He powered up the lander’s stardrive and strapped himself in while he waited for the engines to come online. Twenty seconds later, his board told him everything was ready.

  “Release docking clamps,” he said.

  Rorgun tapped commands into his board. A moment later he turned to JaQuan.

  “Docking clamps released,” he said.

  “Open shuttle bay door,” Kitekh ordered.

  Rorgun complied again. The hatch in front of them opened, revealing the lunar surface and the stars.

  “Shuttle bay door open,” Rorgun reported.

  JaQuan fired the lander’s maneuvering thrusters, easing it out of its bay and away from Cataan’s Claw. After thirty seconds, he had them free.

  “We’re clear to navigate,” he said. “Course?”

  “Catraal, Grakur,” Kitekh said. “Bring us over the northern pole of Korenka.”

  “You got it,” JaQuan said.

  He oriented the lander north and then fired the main thruster. The cargo shuttle roared over the surface on its way to the Graur home world.

  Horay Kel seethed at the presence of the three Graur warships that blockaded the Grakur system. He’d expected something like this. The Graur were touchy and territorial. He’d known they’d object to two Imperial battlecruisers arriving unannounced.

  But that didn’t staunch his irritation. Who the hell did they think they were? This might be their home world, but it was still part of the Empire.

  “Battlelead Krihm,” Horay said, addressing the Graur commander. “We are here in
pursuit of fugitives. Lower your shields and allow us access to the planet.”

  “I don’t care if you’re in pursuit of your long-lost love, Captain Kel,” the Graur replied. “This is Graur sovereign territory. I’m not allowing in one Imperial warship, let alone two. I would be happy to put you in touch with our police force, so we may assist in the capture of your fugitive.”

  Horay wanted to scream. He neither wanted nor needed assistance from the Graur’s primitive police force. He didn’t trust them not to sympathize with Galesh and her outlaw band. He muted his microphone.

  “Gul, get me the specifications on these vessels,” he said to his tactical officer. “I want to know the quickest way to disable them, should it become necessary to fight.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Gul replied.

  Horay, reopened the comms channel.

  “Battlelead Krihm, this is an Imperial matter,” Horay said. “My authority as an agent of the Emperor supersedes your territorial sovereignty.”

  “Not without a writ from the Emperor, it doesn’t,” Krihm shot back.

  “There is no Emperor from whom to get a writ at the moment!” Horay shouted, finally losing his temper.

  “Then you are out of luck, Captain Kel,” Krihm replied. “You can go through proper Tribal channels, or you can go home.”

  Horay had to seize tight control of his heart not to order Gul to blast the Graur ships to atoms. He wanted to raise his shields and ram his way through the blockade on his way to Grakur.

  “Captain,” Gul said. “The vessels in question are Sharpfang-class medium cruisers. Each carries two wings of Swiftclaw-class fighters. They are armed with beamers, particle cannon, and torpedoes. Our weapons are heavier and our armor superior. But they are faster and more maneuverable. Unless we could surprise them so that their shields were down and particle sinks offline, it would be impossible for us to disable them on the first volley.

  “Moreover, while we could likely outlast them in a straight confrontation, the Graur Defense Force would quickly come to their aid. With only two battlecruisers, we lack sufficient firepower to make headway into the system.”

  Horay ground his teeth in fury. How dare these local security officers with an overinflated sense of their own importance stand in his way?