Page 249 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Very good.” The Imperator chuckles. “Can you imagine the alternative? Not since the betrayal of Vespera has such a moment occurred. Ah...thosewere interesting times.” His gaze drifts—nostalgic and eerie. Like he’s reliving Smurf reruns.
“Can wehurry this along?” I tut, bouncing my heel off the floor like a coke-addled metal drummer. “The Divine Cherub’s up past his bedtime.” The stomach-churning impatience is about to evacuate my French toast all over their lovely, shiny fresco floor.
Not technically a lie. It’s always Todd’s bedtime. Little sleepy Chunker.
“I share your enthusiasm,” the Imperator smiles down at me like a hungry hyena trapped in Santa Claus’s body. “But these are the rare moments that echo through history. I find it best tosavorthem... like a fine wine. So centuries from now, the taste is all the sweeter.”
Great. Now he’s a talker.
“Alas, I’ve had my fill,” I purr, lowering my lashes like I’m flirting with a goddamn sermon. “I’ve always preferred sharper, moreintense... experiences.” I answer, speaking in ancient Papa Smurf code.
“Indeed!” he barks a laugh. “There is merit in that. The impatience of youth! But who am I to deny such earnest wishes?”
Suddenly—panels slide open.
Murder-orbs.
They pour in like overachieving Roombas, buzzing with silent menace. My breath hitches at the sight of the little shits, forcing me to clutch Dracoth’s arm. They’re not even carryingsnacks, which only tightens my grip.
The little metal pricks zip into the air, forming a flawless square as if obeying some unspoken command. Blue light projects between them, creating a vast shimmering hologram. One side shows Krogoth’s angry, high-def mug, ringed by runes and alien symbols. The other: my Mr. Frowny Face’s stoic death-glare and a different set of glowy squiggles—hopefully meaningtwo.
“The score currently stands two-to-one in favor of War Chieftain Dracoth,” the Imperator announces, a hint of smug joy that doesnothingto calm my twitchy stomach. “Who wishes to vote next.” He sweeps his stubby arm over the table like a celestial game show host.
“I, Aelioth of Clan Sanaxus, will,” Mummy Big Chief stands—quiet, confident—just like Todd. His voice is soft, but it carries. “Two hundred years ago, my clan fought beside Clan Draxxus to protect our females from the Scythians’ clutches.” He spits. Literally. Spits.
I recoil, making a note to avoid that part of the floor.
His segmented robes and shawls flutter as he sweeps a hand over the others. “Honor demanded it. Time revealed the truth. For do any here still doubt thefollyof that day?”
His glowing blue eyes scan the room like searchlights. No one dares interrupt.
“Once again, we stand at a precipice. Son of Gorexius—none doubts your strength. The great honor earned in retrieving the Revered Mothers thought lost.” He inclines his head in respect, tussling his long sun-bleached hair. “But you would lead us to more wars our people cannot bear. Krogoth Star-Eyes walks with the Gods. Hecrushedthe hated Scythians.”
He stops to cough up another phlegmy spit of barfness.Lovely.
“The Gods choose him to lead us. I, Aelioth of Clan Sanaxus, honor our ancient bonds. I vote for Krogoth Star-Eyes. And I urge my brothers: seek wisdom.”
He sits.
“Could’ve justsaidthat from the start,” I sigh, glancing at Dracoth, who still seems maddeningly volcano-Zen about this whole thing. “Might’ve saved the floor at least.”
“Thank you, brother,” Krogoth says, standing to clasp Mummy Chief’s wrist like the conspiring cheaters they obviously are.
“Very good,” the Imperator nods sagely, that same amused smile carved across his weirdly ancient face. “Two-to-two.Exciting, is it not?” He turns, spreading his arms like a ringmaster. “Now—who’s next?”
Above, the drone hologram flashes. Krogoth’s runes blink in sync with Dracoth’s—dead even.
My eye twitches despite myself.Relax, Lexie. Mummy Big Chief’s vote went as expected. Things are going perfectly to plan. You’ve got Surfer Bro. You’ve got Big Belly. Your two faithful, if slightly problematic, admirers.
“I will speak,” Big Belly rumbles, a Buddha statue coming to life. He unfolds his massive legs and rises, the polished floor shuddering with his weight. “Aelioth spoke well.”
My heart crashes.
“Krogothdoeswalk with the Gods, he’s won us a freedom I had long given up hope for,” he rumbles, an avalanche crushing my dreams beneath a mountain of demonic snow. He exhales slowly. His sad, weary eyes snap to Krogoth.
“But...”
There it is.My heart slingshots into my throat like it’s riding the‘But’ rollercoaster straight into cardiac arrest.
