The Admiral and the Assistant

The Emperor folded his arms and glared at the vestibule.

He'd paneled open the door, and now he was waiting. The routine had already been set. In the morning, the shielding would shift. The shield would come up between the door from the vestibule to his bedroom, and it would come down between the vestibule and the hallway outside. One of the Ministers would enter, leave some food, and collect whatever leavings the Emperor put out there. Then the shielding would switch back, letting him enter the vestibule again.

Kind of an airlock, but for an Emperor.

A small camera in the vestibule watched him impassively. Clearly they wanted to make sure he wasn't in the vestibule before they switched the shielding.

Today he watched as the door to the hallway paneled open. Minister Sarden scuttled in, tray in hand. He flinched when he saw the Emperor staring at him.

"Your breakfast, your Imperial Majesty," he said, setting the tray on the table.

"You would not free your Emperor, Sarden?" the Emperor asked.

Sarden shrank in on himself.

"We are not to speak with you, your Imperial Majesty," Sarden said.

"Who has so ordered?"

"Minister Aster."

"And do the orders of Minister Aster override the orders of your Emperor?"

Minister Sarden looked stricken.

"I-- I'm sorry, your Imperial Majesty. I can do nothing else. You are to be kept safe. The galaxy is dangerous." Sarden nodded, as though trying to convince himself of something. "You will be safe from the galaxy in here." He would not raise his eyes to meet the Emperor's.

"Do you believe that?"

Minister Sarden didn't respond. He only bowed nervously, and scuttled out the door. After a minute, the shielding switched, allowing him into the vestibule.

The Emperor scoffed.

"Fools and cowards all." He fetched his food, glaring at the small camera. He retreated to his bedroom.

Fortunately, they hadn't been able to put a camera in the bedroom proper, so he had that small amount of privacy, at least. He ate his food and contemplated.

He had to admit, he hadn't expected this. He'd expected an assassination attempt, perhaps, though he'd doubted even Aster would have the stomach for it. He'd thought it more likely he'd face a flurry of legal delays or foot-dragging or excuses. The concept of imprisonment hadn't even entered his mind.

Well, he'd just have to escape.

His room was opulent, but it was all ornamentation over multiple layers of steel walls. Dense concrete filled the gaps between the layers. Sensors were embedded throughout, to detect if anyone tried to cut their way in. Any attempt to go through the wall would be instantly noticed.

He gave a wry smile. Barriers to assassins without were also barriers to the Emperor within.

The first thing he'd checked had been his secret escape route. He'd had it built into his bedroom, through a secret door hidden behind a tapestry. But his escape route was also shielded off.

That was annoying. Apparently it wasn't as secret as he'd thought. After all this was over, he'd have a sharp word with some folks about proper infosec.

The Cryptographers could theoretically help him, but there was no telling how long it would take them to notice he was missing. They didn't naturally understand things like schedules or diurnal cycles. They'd probably just carry on with whatever it was they did, waiting for him to get back to his throne room.

The worst part of it all, he decided, was the boredom. There were only a few books in his room. His scanner was blocked from accessing anything.

All that was left for him was to stare at his bedroom walls and continue planning his escape.

Grimthorn and Kinnit sat in the mess hall after hours, sharing coffee. The mess was dim, with only a few lights on.

Kinnit was quiet, mostly. She'd been in a pensive mood ever since they'd come back from Takkar. He looked at her with concern. He wished he could ease her disappointment. Her people had been... appreciative of their citizenship, but for them it was not a life-changing event, like it had been for Kinnit. He wished they could have been more excited, for her sake.

She sighed, staring into the darkness of the mess hall.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"Oh, just... things," she answered, her gaze still unfocused.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Mmm. Maybe later."

He nodded and patted her hand.

"I'm here whenever you're ready."

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She smiled absently. "I know," she said.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other's presence.

"Grimthorn?"

"Mmhmm?" he answered, taking a long sip of his coffee.

"Do you think we could have babies?"

He coughed, spraying coffee up out of his mug. He set his mug down, staring at her in shock.

She laughed at his expression and grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser. She handed him half and started wiping coffee off of his jacket.

After a moment of stunned silence, he took the napkins and wiped at the coffee that covered his face.

"Um... Um... I hadn't thought about it," he said.

"But could we?"

"Uh..." His eyes were wide, and his brain had short-circuited. "Uh. Probably? Most species are, uh, compatible enough. We could go to med, ask them to do a check. Um."

She smiled and sat back down, fixing her eyes on the distance again.

"Wouldn't it be nice?" she said. "Our own baby?"

"Nice?" He tried to think through it, to give her a meaningful answer, but his thought process was locked up hard. "Uh. Nice, yes."

They fell back into silence. Grimthorn's brow was wrinkled in concern as he lined up a whole new slate of worries to fret over. Kinnit rested her chin on her hand and stared into the darkness, a small, gentle smile resting on her face.

The Imperial Council sat around the table. The seat at the head of the table was conspicuously empty.

"Let us begin," said Minister Aster. He seated himself, and the assembled Ministers began going through updates for their respective areas of authority.

Even though it had only been a couple of sessions, they were already getting into a routine. They would all come in, bow to the empty seat at the head of the table, and in unison, loudly wish the Emperor long life and good health. Ceremony and routine were built into them like swimming was to a fish.

After the requisite updates, Minister Aster cleared his throat meaningfully. He speared Minister Parsa, the Minister of Justice, with a pointed look.

"What progress have we made on undoing this last mad mandate of the Emperor?" he said.

Parsa cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on his scanner.

"W-well, it's difficult. It would be easier if decree had not specifically mentioned the designation of 'Subject Species.'" Aster's glare intensified, and Parsa made himself busy with his scanner. "However, there may be a solution. It would be... inelegant."

"Elegance does not concern me," Aster said. "Only the safety of the Imperium."

Parsa nodded and cleared his throat again.

"There is a wording in old Imperium law." He swallowed. "Very old. From the very earliest days of the Imperium."

"Laws are still laws, no matter how old."

"The wording of the old laws talk about the citizenry. It talks about, uh, the humans of the Imperium."

Minister Aster sat back, thoughtful.

"Go on."

Minister Parsa swallowed heavily.

"Given the vagaries of Old Imperial, it's hard to be sure, but if you could make the argument that 'humans' really means 'Terrans,' it could be interpreted that only Terrans can rightfully be citizens of the Imperium."

The Council sat silently, watching Aster closely.

"Only Terrans?" he said finally. "It does neatly step around the designation of 'Subject Species.' It's a larger sweep than I intended, but it is true that only Terrans built the Imperium. We are the ones who have explored the galaxy. We are the ones who have nurtured and grown all species, cultivating the government to reach this pinnacle, the Imperial Council." He steepled his fingers and leaned forward. He stared over his fingers at Parsa. "This is a fruitful avenue of research. Please, Minister Parsa, continue down this road. For the good of the Imperium. All hail the Imperium!"

"All hail," the Council replied unenthusiastically.

"A report has come in from Brolla," Grimthorn said. Kinnit perked up. She got up from her desk and came over to Grimthorn's console.

He scanned the document, with Kinnit reading over his shoulder. Technically it was a violation of security protocol for her to be reading his messages directly, but he was just going to tell her everything anyway. It saved time and miscommunication all around.

The report was dense, filling the console with data.

"It was an attack," Grimthorn said. "A fleet of tiny ships, no bigger than a shuttle." He nodded as he read. "They swept across the planet like locusts."

"Could they be the Feeders the Emperor was talking about?"

"Probably," Admiral Stonefist replied.

"They have some footage from security cameras," Kinnit said. "Let's see what we're facing."

Images of little gray-green ships filled the console. Hundreds of thousands of ships, sweeping by in ordered rows, red sparks and crackles of energy zapping the surface. It soon became clear that the red streaks were taking people.

The particular video they were watching showed masses of people trying to escape, vehicles clogging the roadway, plowing past each other in a panic. Some pedestrians ran screaming, only to be taken by the red crackles.

Kinnit put her hand over her mouth.

"That's awful," she said.

"Look at that," Grimthorn said, pointing at a corner of the video.

In the distance, a defensive blaster cannon was firing. Most of the blaster shots were missing the little ships, sending its bolts harmlessly into the sky.

"Who trained that idiot?" Grimthorn snarled at the video. "You have to lead your targets! Lead them! Hit something!"

Finally a bolt hit one of the little ships. It flipped and spun like a coin. It stabilized, and got back in formation, with no apparent damage.

"They're tough," Kinnit noted.

"We're going to need need big guns," Grimthorn said. "Really big guns."

The video played out. The swarm swept by, and the city in the video was left dead and still, a fog of ash swirling through the empty streets.

Grimthorn turned off the video.

"We have to stop them," he said.

Kinnit laid a hand on his shoulder.

"The Emperor said we need to deal with the Aberrant first," she said softly.

"Did he know about this, though?" Grimthorn pounded his desk with a fist. "Too many enemies, not enough time." He frowned. "Let's keep reading," he said shortly.

The pair scanned through the report.

"They found someone alive," Kinnit said.

"A few someones," Grimthorn responded. "Looks like a few hundred folks survived the attack."

"Only a few hundred? Out of the whole planet?"

Grimthorn nodded grimly. "Not many. Here's the report on the fellow that contacted the relay station." He scanned through and tensed. "He was working for the Aberrant."

"Any leads?"

"They interrogated him thoroughly." Grimthorn read as quickly as he could. Then he shook his head. "Nothing. We got some places the Aberrant had been, but no idea where it's going. Infosec's already analyzed the information this fellow gave us. The Aberrant's ship jumps from sector to sector frequently. There's no rhyme or reason, as far as they could tell."

"What about the survivor?"

"He's broken. Poor guy. Imagine coming back home from something like the Aberrant and everyone's just... gone. Now he's wandering a dead planet."

"They just left him there?" she asked, aghast.

Grimthorn peered at the console.

"That's what he wanted, apparently. They offered him transport off-planet, but he turned them down. To 'witness the dead' he said." Grimthorn shrugged. "Who knows why? Maybe it will bring him closure."

Kinnit's face softened with sadness.

"I hope so."