The Orange Emperor
Chronicles of Xanctu
Previously in Chronicles of Xanctu
Resplendent in his orange robe and draped in a velvet cape capable of deflecting energy weapons, Grakkus’s fearsome bulk glided over the plush, navy-blue carpeting of Starbuoy’s vaulted conference chamber. The cape shimmered from midnight blue to black — a signal of his impatience, and a calculated reminder of his presence. Woven from bio-engineered Chrysocord, its functions remained the subject of fevered speculation by both Imperials and Insurrectionists alike.
Preceded by Thon and flanked by his ESS troopers, Grakkus scanned the vast viewport into the deep. He was relatively unprotected — exposed. At the far end of the chamber, a long narrow table, lined with nine intricately carved, high-backed chairs faced a gold-trimmed velvet couch of the same crimson hue. Looking away from the void, he floated towards the couch. The troopers moved to cover the emergency hatch.
Thon remained near the center of the chamber, silent, sorting and compiling data — projecting holos. Several automatons and two more androids entered before the corridor access was sealed.
Grakkus shrugged the cape into a more comfortable position, but remained ill at ease. Leaving his mountain fortress on Imperion — protected by layered forcefields, planetary defence satellites, and the Galaxy’s most elite Guard — was always an ordeal. But this trip, to the Starbuoy outpost at the rim of Archalem space, was the furthest he had ever strayed from the Merkan core. Fifty parsecs from the nearest civilized system. It made his glands itch — but it was a risk he was compelled to take.
“The Pterryxi ambassador is here, Emperor. And so is the Fleet Navigator”, reported Thon.
“And the data transfer?” Grakkus rasped, voice hoarse from the jump.
Thon gestured. Holograms swirled into view, showing the slow, flickering completion of a data feed to his private yacht. The data held the only knowledge of the gravity flux weapon, and the feed was nearly done.
The weapon was originally an altruistic invention designed to extend a dying star's life span. It was created in order to allow a threatened population to effect a timeous and orderly evacuation. There was now a more urgent use for the device. Theoretically, it was now capable of destabilising a star and causing it to nova. If one of the stars went nova, the other two would swiftly follow. Not even Zix could survive a trinary supernova.
Cancelling the belt’s gravity field, he allowed his tired body to touch the contoured couch. It moved under him, adjusting to his shape, weight, and temperature. Drool dripped from the corner of his fleshy mouth onto his orange beard at the thought of the destruction of the Archalem star system.
But first, the plan had to be successfully executed and the weapon had to work. Failure of either meant more insurrections and a possible coup. The destruction of Starbuoy directly after his departure would ensure that no one would ever find out. Aside from Chief Scientist Ro’n-Po’x, and those aboard his ship, all who lived on orbital Starbuoy would soon be part of an accelerating debris field - or spacedust.
“Without Zix to oppose me at a Council meeting, how long will it take me to control the Council of Nine?” he growled at Thon.
“If you are unopposed by the council I estimate that your dominion over five hundred and forty-eight planets will increase to over a thousand planets before your biological timeline ends. The removal of Exemplar Kaen Zix of Terrakia from the council increases the probability by more than sixty percent, my Emperor.”
The stats were pleasing and “Emperor of a thousand planets” had a nice ring to it. There were many possibilities — but his head hurt from warp. There would always be problems, but without Zix and his Lifters his life would be much easier. The return to Imperion through warp would be brutal, and he would need rejuve again. The process was painful, but outliving Zix would be worth it.
The Exemplar was living proof of the Xanctu myth, spawned twelve thousand solars ago by the treaty at Twinne Yashtoor. The spies he’d sent to Ardathia to determine Zix’s true age had brought him no reliable data, except confirmation that his projected life-span could not compete. And they had all returned sprouting outlandish ideas based on the outmoded ‘Peace Charter of Twinne Yashtoor’. Regretfully, he’d had to terminate them all.
The original cylinder — or the 'Peace Compact', as others liked to call it — was purportedly an extra-Galactic artefact that had witnessed the treaty at Twinne Yashtoor. It had long been ‘misplaced’. Even he knew not where. His predecessors had seen to that. There was now no tangible proof that it was prohibited to annex the Younger Stars, along with the environment-rich planet of Earth, which the Twinne Yashtoor pact expressly prohibited contact with.
“The Pterryxi are requesting access, Emperor.”
“Make them wait until I’m rested.”
“The Pterryxi are not known for their patience, Emperor.”
Dismissing Thon’s comment with an impatient gesture, he issued a sub-vocal command, inaudible to the troopers and bodyguards. Palming a vial of brilliance from subcutaneous storage, Thon approached Grakkus and carefully administered a dose of brilliance to each eyeball. It stepped quickly back when it was done.
The first effects of the drug were not pleasant. It amplified the already taut atmosphere with a hysterical edge and anxiety clutched at him. His stomach cramped as spasms shook his body. Massaging his ample abdomen with one armored hand, he beckoned the android over with the other. Thon came over reluctantly. Grakkus giggled harshly. Everyone in the chamber backed away.
The blonde android was different, an experimental breed of intelligence created by combining cannibalised biogenetic material with various implants. Smart and soft, they could often be repaired. and made an excellent short-term substitute for human company — of which he was inherently mistrustful.
Pleasant symptoms began to take effect and the spasms abated. His armored hand on the blonde cyborg’s neck adopted a more sensual approach, the other dropping limply to his side. The troopers and androids glittered in multiple vision as he spread the couch into a bed, using the gravity belt to help it adjust to his tired bulk. Within a short time his eyes had rolled back, and his armored hands fell in slow motion out of the robe. A small drone came silently over and cleaned the drool from his beard.
In the dream, one entity pleaded with him, trying to change his mind. The other assured him that killing the demon trinary was the correct thing to do — because it would put an end to that which he dare not comprehend.
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© Return of The White Lady (1994) by Mike Kawitzky
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© Chronicles of Xanctu by Mike Kawitzky 2023