Page 230 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Voidbringer. Gods. Crucibles,” Consul Juliara interjects, throwing her hands up with exasperation. “He spins tales meant to frighten children. Not fit for these enlightened halls.”
“That’s why the Scythians were disabled around Argon Six,” Krogoth states, shooting Vorthax and the Nebians a withering look. “We could’ve annihilated them utterly. Were it not for your hesitation and doubt.”
“We suspected a trap,” Consul Catokar mumbles, chewing the corner of his lip. “The Fallen are devious. Their strategies evolve by the second. Wedidstrike some blows at your... aggressive insistence.”
“This news troubles me greatly,” The Imperator glares at the cringing Catokar. “Two-thirds of my imperial fleet lost, because you played it safe?” His voice thunders with anger, slamming his tiny fist in a poor imitation of strength.
“I—I—”
“Silence!” The Imperator’s voice booms, breathing heavily. “And cease thatinfernal racket!” He groans, thumbing his ancient temples. The strings fall quiet.
He exhales.
“Days like these make me regret Tyrxie’s healing touch.” A long pause. “This...Voidbringeryou speak of—do you mean the central AI of the Fallen? Their master core? How did you disrupt it?”
He leans forward, eyes sharp. “We’ve tried to interface with their network. Every time, it floods our systems with infinite recursive code. Malicious logic. We have to purge entire nodes just to survive contact.”
“In our realm, it is a malignant machine—cold, ruthless, calculating.” I say, already bracing for their disbelief. “In the realm of the Gods, it exists as an entity of pure oblivion. A dreamless night.”
Ignixis’s words. Poetic. Fitting.
“Realm of the Gods!” The Imperator bursts into laughter—shrill, manic, disbelieving. His officials follow suit, though theirs ring hollow, the laughter of sycophants unsure of their place in the shifting tide. “Perhaps you’ll lead us there yourself,” he jests, wiping his eyes. “A final strike, yes?”
They wouldn’t last a breath. The Voidbringer would peel their feeble minds open like fruit, casting the remains into the abyss.
“Very well,” Bulba sniffs, still smiling. “I’ll presume you’re correct until sharper minds can find the logic and reason buried in all this...” He waves dismissively at us Klendathians. “This madness. Now, I’ll dispatch scout drones to verify the fate of Sothis Prime. Krogoth—your forces will accompany mine through the Sirius System. We’ll purge every last Scythian nest.”
“No,” Krogoth replies, voice steady, but arcweave-forged. The room stills. “I return to Klendathor. With what remains of my people. For too long, we’ve fought and bled—dying on alien worlds, never knowing peace, never knowing love.” He looks down at Rocks. Their eyes meet. And he places a gentle hand on her stomach.
New life? A child? Between a human and a Klendathian?
My hand shoots out, pressing against Princesa’s gut, searching for any movement, any vibration. Strangely excited.
“Hey!” she barks, failing to bat me away. “Okay, rude. Just because I’m a little plump doesn’t mean you get to rub me like a lucky genie lamp.”
...Nothing. Disappointing.
“But what of our alliance?” The Imperator demands through tight lips. “Do your people not crave slaughter?”
“My people are not killers!” Krogoth snaps, stiffening as if struck by a hammer blow. “The alliance stands. But my duty is first to my people. We will send support when we are able—when children’s laughter echoes once again through the Draxxiwoods.” His gaze and voice soften to a whisper. “I will honor your last wish, Astraxius.”
The Imperator’s jaw works behind clenched teeth. “Return? With what fleet?” he scoffs. “Need I remind you,High Chieftain.You’re stranded onmyworld—Argon Six. With what?” He glances at Consul Catokar. “Less than a dozen functioning Scythian Battlebarges? All of them susceptible to their corruption. You command a force a million strong. How will you feed so many? House them? Transport them? I advise against this course of action. It is... unwise.”
Grumbling swells through the chamber. A storm rising in the throats of my kin.
“Youdareabandon us after all we sacrificed for you?” Chieftain Aelioth roars, his bright blue eyes piercing between segmented head scarfs.
The Imperator lets out a dry bark of laughter. “Iam not abandoning you.Heis.” He thrusts a squat hand toward Krogoth. “We stand at the precipice of total victory. Join us in finishing this. Come—embrace the savage blood that flows through your veins. Use your bloodlust for something noble.”
“We are skilled hunters, nothing more. You would twist us into weapons!” Krogoth snarls, his fangs bared, eyes spilling violet Rush into the sterile air—an avatar of war about to unleash his fury. “First the Scythians. Nowyou.You don’t want allies. You want beasts.I won’t let you turn us into monsters. I won’t let you corrupt our noble blood!”
Amusing. Naïve.
I step forward, my voice a volcanic eruption.
“You are wrong, Krogoth.”
He turns, expression unreadable. The weight of the room and our people’s future presses down on me like the Peaks of Scarn.
