Stupid Sexy Cryptids [126-130] (Patreon)

126: Derailed Dreams

The dream was exquisite in its indulgence.

Admiral Evelithria Frontenachii reclined upon a throne of naked kobolds, their bodies forming the comfortable flesh-cushion beneath her, radiating fear and obedience. The throne room she occupied was a magnificent cathedral, every pillar and floor tile carved from the petrified bones of monsters and men from worlds she conquered. The chandeliers above glowed with the crystalline beastcore hearts of species that had dared to resist her rule.

Newly bound servants approached in an endless procession carrying gifts of artifacts and unique slaves from subjugated dungeons, citadels, nations and worlds.

More, Evelithria thought at the river of wealth and power.

The crowd of servants multiplied, stretched into endlessness across the ever-lengthening hall. The river became an ocean. The ocean became a universe. And still it wasn't enough, could never be enough, because she deserved everything and everything was merely a down payment on what she was owed.

Then, Princess Aquillianne crawled out from the crowd of servants toward the flesh-throne on hands and knees. 

"Aunt Evely," her niece whimpered, prostrating herself, antlers tipped in silver stars scraping the floor in proper submission. "I was so foolish. Please forgive me. I buried the keys at—"

"I don't care about the keys anymore," Evelithria purred in reply with a wicked grin. "I care about making you understand what happens to those who inconvenience me. The keys are merely the appetizer. Your suffering will be the main course. And for dessert..." She smiled with all her teeth. "I'm going to turn every single, mildly unruly human of that pathetic human-overpopulated world you seem to like so much into lovely wall art, starting with its magic-less Emperor!"

Dream-Shady wept silver tears that Evelithria’s male prads collected in a crystal goblet and offered it to her.

Evelithria drank Shady’s tears.

Delicious. A most perfect victory, one that…

Then, the klaxons screamed.

Evelithria's eyes snapped open, the dream shattering like hexaglass under a railgun blast. 

She momentarily flailed, finding herself in the center of her personal relaxation pool, naked and unarmored, her black, dark, fuzzy body soaking in the regenerative, mana-rich Void-whale blood. 

With a thought, she summoned her stats projected into her mind by the Lazarus bracelet and noted that slightly over six hours passed since she ordered her niece shot. Six hours of soaking away the cloying, muddy taste of this Earth’s linear, thick Astral field.

She had fallen asleep after a particularly violent sex session with her kobolds and a nice massage from the survivors. 

The Admiral slowly gained her bearings, waking up fully. The incredibly annoying wailing alarm didn’t cease. The gold, soft mood lighting of the chamber was obliterated with a flaring strobe of concerning crimson runes warning of Austral Fountain entropic dimensional shearing.

"What in the Slayer's name is going on here?" she snarled, rising from the pool.

Jet-black void-whale blood ran down her body in thick rivulets, dripping onto the obsidian deck. Around her, four pradavarian kobold attendants scrambled at the pool's edges. A wolf with silver-tipped fur clutched a towel. A fox with amber eyes held a diamondust robe. A hawk with an iridescent feathery mane looked left and right in confusion.

The fourth, a lean gray cheetah who had been dying far too many times on Pleasure Deck recently, stood with a mildly worried expression in the waist-deep blood. He radiated fear and hatred towards her, still resisting her ownership. She would break this one soon enough.

The alarm got louder, careening her thoughts of kobold torment sideways.

"Datamancer Kipriss!" Evelithria barked, activating the V-cast ring on her finger. "Report! What’s the emergency?! I swear to Slayer, someone is going to spend a thousand years on the Entertainment Deck for this!"

The holographic projection of the Datamancer flickered with unexpected busts of colorful static.

Arch-Datamancer Kipriss, the Prima-Administrator of Slayer's Sword had a horrified expression on her avian face. Behind her, holographic displays flashed with cascading error messages and warning symbols.

"Admiral!" Kipriss shrieked. "The entire Weapon-Net is under assault! Memetic contamination is spreading across every channel! We're trying to contain it but it's—it's everywhere! Every deep fold-data-vault has been unlocked! Every Datamancer on the ship is fighting just to keep the core systems—"

"Slow down," Evelithria growled. "And speak clearly. I don't have patience for bird hysteria."

"Admiral, there are Astral Fountains blooming across the entire ship! Multiple decks! The Incarnation Temple is—the Incarnation Temple is utterly contaminated with them!" Kipriss yelled, her face warping and twisting.

"Contaminated?! How?! Speak sense, you useless bird!"

"Completely contaminated! The Entropic Cascade is spreading through the decks! Whatever's happening, it started at the temple and—"

The hologram became blotted with flickers of colorful static and then completely winked out.

“Datamancer!” the Admiral barked. “KIPRISS! Cast Datamancer Kipriss!”

The V-ring flickered, failing to connect.

The floor lurched beneath Evelithria's feet. The gray cheetah rapidly scrambled out of the pool and ran off towards her bedroom. Evelithria ignored him, impatiently tapping her ring and gritting her teeth.

A section of her private chamber's wall suddenly peeled back without warning, crystalline segments rotating with organic fluidity. A Corpse Seeker, one of her smaller, personal units, shoved itself through the opening, blade-legs clicking against the deck.

"EMERGENCY EVACUATION PROTOCOL INITIATED," the Seeker announced. "ALL PERSONNEL IN THIS CHAMBER IS TO BE SECURED FOR TRANSIT!"

"Evacuation?! I didn't authorize any evacuation," Evelithria snarled. "I am the Admiral of this fleet. Nothing happens without my—"

The Seeker didn't wait for her to conclude her declaration. Crystalline tendrils shot from its body.

Evelithria was yanked with an undignified yelp from the pool, pulled into the Seeker's interior. Then her attendants suffered the same fate, all of them tumbling into the red, crystalline chamber. 

The cheetah kobold was grabbed last. Evelithria noted that the gray kobold was holding a metal, extradimensional fruit container decorated with ruby and diamond gems.

Were they under attack? Did a competing Omnicorp find this human-resource rich Earth and decide to…

The Admiral tried to get more info-data from the Weapon-Net but her neural interface chip wasn’t working at all, lagging madly as the network ground to a halt.

“What the shit is going on today?” She growled out. “Seeker Argon-211! Who issued the evac order?!”

"Warning! System error! WEAPON-NET EXPERIENCING SIGNIFICANT LATENCY. EVACUATION PRIORITY: MAXIMUM!" The Seeker boomed an explanation after about twenty seconds of unnerving silence. “Evacuation order was authorized from… the Command Deck of Slayer’s Sword by… SYSTEM ERROR.”

Command deck? Evelithria thought, feeling unexpectedly wobbly and drunk. System error? What?!

“Seeker! Are we under attack?!” She demanded.

“Total evacuation orders from command deck! SYSTEM ERROR! Astral Fountains on ship!” the Seeker replied after about thirty seconds, making irritating pauses between each word.

“Why are you so effing slow?” She snarled.

“Memetic viral contamination,” the crystalline-organic carrier ground out, voice twitching and bubbling. “Self-replicating data thought forms. Significant reaction time… Processing delay… Purging personal Neural Net of infection… Please stand by.”

The Admiral frowned. A single Astral Fountain or two shouldn’t have caused a ship-wide network failure. This was treason, sabotage, an attack from within!

Through the Seeker's semi-transparent walls, Evelithria watched as her carrier tore through corridors and walls at breakneck speed. Alarms wailed from every direction. Pradavarian soldiers ran past them, rapidly getting scooped up by other, larger Seekers.

Argon-211 burst through an airlock and into the void of space.

Stars wheeled around them. 

Behind them, Evelithria caught a glimpse of the Slayer's Sword from the outside and her breath caught in her throat.

Her ship. Her beautiful, ten-kilometer capital ship. Her hoard. Her legacy. Her everything.

Something was terribly wrong with it.

Gold and red lights flickered and died in cascading waves along its surface, the barrier shields flickering and warping under internal strain.

She tried the V-cast again. “CAST Datamancer Kipriss! Answer me you stupid bird!”

Nothing.

"Legate Ixthia!” She attempted to contact her old colleague and rival. “Respond immediately!"

A flickering, static-wrapped image of the Legate flashed from her ring.

"Admiral!" the Legate hissed, holding onto her shoulder. She was bleeding. A gash ran across her temple, violet-red ichor matting the gray-black feathers around her skull. Another deep wound was in her shoulder, slowly resealing itself.

“Ixthia!” Evelithria growled. “What’s going on?!”

"My own ‘bolds attacked me! They're using—" Static consumed half her words. "—cts! The blood-bonds are—" More static. "—pr-mised! Admiral, you need to—"

The transmission dissolved into white noise, decaying and lagging, then dropped.

Evelithria stared at her ring in disbelief. 

Kobolds attacking? That was impossible. The blood contracts were absolute. Pradavarian servants couldn't raise a hand against their masters any more than water could flow uphill. It was the fundamental law of their civilization, the cornerstone upon which the entire Frontenachii Dominion rested!

An eerie sound came from behind her. Metal scraping against metal.

Evelithria spun, ready to take her fury out on whoever was adding to her crisis.

The gray cheetah, Archer Silvertail, stood apart from the other kobolds in the corner of the red room. Wrapped around half of Archer's face, digging deep into the fur of his muzzle and cheeks, was a metal centipede. The segmented body of the dungeon monster was made from rusted metal, dozens of blood-red eyes glowing bright along its length. Thin, rusted, nail-like tendrils burrowed deep into the kobold’s flesh at the right temple, trails of blood running down his neck.

"Archer?" Evelithria growled. "What is that disgusting thing on your face? Remove it immediately!"

"No," Archer spoke. His voice was strained, fighting against the metallic beast obscenity clamped to his head. The next words came out slurred, pained. “It is time.”

"Time for what?" The Admiral barked, closing her fists. For some reason she felt very woozy, her body responding far too slowly.

"This." Archer's hands moved to the chest's lid. He threw the chest open. “Kill them all!”

The Frontenachii Admiral recognized dungeon-constructs, Metal Elementals from the Entertainment Deck Labyrinth where Archer kept dying recently. Rusty spheres spun and whirred with malevolent intent. A dozen of them, each the size of her head, each bristling with rotating, rusty blades exploded out of the fruit box.

The sentinels attacked everyone, except for the damned prad with the centipede clamped to his face.

The fox kobold went down first, three spheres converging on him in a spinning maelstrom of metal. Blood sprayed across the Seeker’s interior. The hawk tried to flee in a useless instinctual attempt, which was folly in the enclosed space. The metal Elemental caught him in the back of the neck, tearing through feathers and flesh until he crashed to the floor screaming.

"HOSTILE… ENTITIES… DETECTED," the Seeker announced with maddening, twitchy delay, each word taking several seconds to come out. "INITIATING… COUNTER—"

Evelithria roared. Her claws caught the spinning sphere heading for her head mid-flight. She felt the rusty blades bite into her palms. She crushed the metal elemental, fingers compressing corroded metal until it shrieked and died, the crystalline beastcore shattering.

Another elemental came at her from the side. She caught it with her teeth, the blades slicing into her gums, and bit down until its core shattered. A third slammed into her shoulder, carving a furrow through her naked flesh before she managed to tear it away and crush its core.

The third kobold fell to the metal spheres, shrieking and weeping.

The remaining sentinels turned on Evelithria all at once.

She fought them with swears and snarls. Claws shredding metal, teeth crushing corrupted steel, her naked body painted in blood.

She destroyed the last sentinel with her bare hands, panting, bleeding from a dozen wounds that were already beginning to heal.

"That," she snarled, turning toward Archer, "was the stupidest thing any kobold has ever attempted. You're… going to spend millennia spliced into a wall, you worthless—"

She tiredly noticed that Archer must have pulled something else from the chest while she was distracted with the damned metal Elementals.

A dungeon arbalest. 

The weapon was high level, the bolt crackling with green cursed energy. The centipede on his face pulsed brighter, its tendrils visibly burrowing deeper into his skull, blood flowing freely down his neck and chest.

"Addie," Archer bubbled, blood pouring from his mouth. He swayed, leaning against the wall. "My little sister. She's eighteen now."

"I don't care about your damned sister!" Evelithria spat. "Put that weapon down immediately, Archer! That's an order!"

“No,” the kobold hissed, somehow resisting her order.

127: Judgement Day

Evelithria blinked. 

She felt unnaturally exhausted. Was the local dimension really draining her this much?

"You subjugated our world," Archer's yellow-violet eyes stared at the Admiral filled with pure hatred. "But your fucking agents didn’t get her yet."

"Good for her. Now put down the arbalest—"

"You keep saying that she’ll be here too." Archer's voice cracked. "Claimed. Bound. Trapped forever like me. Serving you."

Evelithria's eyes narrowed.

Had she said that? Probably. It sounded like something she'd say. Many talented prads from dominated worlds eventually ended up in the Third Fleet as servants.

"Even if I did," she said, buying time for the Seeker to help and for her wounds to heal, "shooting me won't stop the expansion. The Agents of our Empire will continue the harvest. Your little tantrum accomplishes nothing. If you shoot me, I’ll just get reincarnated. Now put. Down. The weapon."

"I know," Archer said. The kobold smiled. It was a wet, grotesque smile around the metal bug eating his face. "But at least I’ll… give her a chance."

“A chance for what, idiot?!” Evelithria's claws extended. “This little rebellion of yours accomplished nothing! I order you to put the weapon down!”

“Agent Langalirri Frontenachii… deceived me, sold me a lie.” The centipede’s red eyes pulsed brighter, and Archer's body shuddered. "I was promised things which you never gave me. The blood contract is screaming at me to stop, yes,” the cheetal bubbled. “To kneel. To obey. But there's less of me every second. Less for it to hold onto. And soon..." 

"HOSTILE… ACTION… IMMINENT," the Seeker drawled like a half-dead snail. "INITIATING… COUNTER—"

“This is my vengeance,” Archer breathed out. "Goodbye, Admiral."

He pulled the trigger. 

The Admiral tried to avoid the arrow, leapt to the side, but the cursed bolt targeted her heart, veering in the air. The bolt struck Evelithria in the center of her chest, pinning her to the wall like a butterfly.

Green fire exploded through her body. The cursed metal bolt overwhelmed her Wendigo regeneration like an avalanche burying a candle. The poison spread through her veins, burning, consuming, destroying.

The Seeker's railgun finally responded, unfolding from a wall. A single shot obliterated Archer Silvertail's head and the dungeon centipede in a spray of bone, brain, and corrupted metal.

Evelithria collapsed against the crystalline red wall, her lifeblood pooling beneath her naked body. The green curse-fire continued to burn through her, preventing regeneration.

Around her, the torn bodies of her dead kobolds lay scattered. She didn't spare them a thought. 

They were replaceable and would be reborn. She had a thousand more shared kobolds on her Slayer’s Sword that would serve her once this crisis was dealt with.

The green fire reached her spine.

Her last thoughts held no regrets. 

Kobolds occasionally rebelled on colony worlds. It was a natural process. The Corpse Seekers responded and the rebellion leaders were spliced into walls and life went on.

They’re all going to PAY for this when I return, she thought as her brain caught fire from within.

. . .

Evelithria's soul tore free from her dead body. 

She fell through darkness that wasn't darkness, through void that wasn't void, toward a light that promised nothing good.

She once again saw the accursed Wheel of Death. It had been a very long time since she died. 

Thousands, millions, trillions of souls ignited one by one all around her, spiraling in an endless tunnel that stretched toward the all-devouring funnel. 

Arxtruria. The devourer. The Wheel.

The tunnel pulled at her. She could feel herself being drawn in, becoming part of the vile spiral, losing the edges of her identity.

I am Admiral Evelithria Frontenachii, she screamed into the void. I am a daughter of the Aegis! I do NOT get recycled like common garbage! I am IMPORTANT!

The Lazarus bracelet held her soul in its embrace, not allowing her to plummet into the infinite, all grinding wheel. 

She hung there, suspended between death and rebirth, watching the other souls spiral past her. Some of them screamed. Some of them laughed. Some of them had already forgotten who they were, their identities dissolving into the cosmic soup of the Astral abyss.

How long? she wondered. How long until they pull me back?

How DARE they make me wait!

Time didn't work in the Astral. A second stretched into a century. A heartbeat contained millennia. She watched souls spiral past—countless billions of them, the endless dead of all adjacent dimensions flowing toward the same inevitable destination.

She suddenly saw faces she recognized. The spliced criminals, disobedient leaders from her ship's walls.

What? No. This was impossible! How could they have gotten free? The wheel was screwing with her! It was an illusion, a trick, a lie! A hallucination of the abyss, reflecting her mind back at her, clawing at the edges of her soul.

One of them laughed madly at her as it passed, recognizing her.

An eternity passed.

Another eternity.

The rage kept her sharp, kept her focused even as the tunnel's light pulsed with hungry, endless patience.

Pull me back, she commanded. Pull me back NOW, you infernal idiots! I have vengeance to enact! I have kobolds to punish for their insolence. I have a niece to torture. I have a primitive Emperor to flay alive and turn into a conversation piece.

PULL ME BACK!

Another eternity passed.

And then—

There was light.

The Leviathan blood of the Incarnation Well filled her lungs.

Evelithria's consciousness clawed its way back into existence through layers of pain and disorientation, her new body forming around her soul like crystallizing ice.

Someone grabbed her hand and pulled. 

She emerged into the air gasping, coughing, spitting silver blood of the Leviathan onto white bone tiles.

Hexasuit-wrapped Wendigo arms set her on the cold floor, drying her off with a towel. The tiles were of the wrong color, the wrong texture, the wrong everything.

"Legate Evelithria." Evelithria distantly recognized Commander Sillicia's voice.

"What did you just call me?" Evelithria croaked, spitting more silver fluid out. 

Sillicia didn’t reply.

“Where the Abyss am I?” The Admiral demanded, her mind waking up from its dive into the embrace of oblivion. “This isn’t the Incarnation temple.”

"The Abyssal Sorrow. My warship." Sillicia's face finally swam into focus. "My personal Incarnator. I recovered your Lazarus bracelet from your Seeker. You've been dead for approximately three hours."

"Three hours?!" Evelithria struggled to sit up. "Why wasn't I resurrected immediately?"

“We’ve had… problems to deal with first,” Sillicia sighed.

“What problems?” The Admiral demanded. 

"Incarnation facilities across the fleet were overwhelmed with casualties." Sillicia stepped back. "You were prioritized as quickly as possible given the circumstances."

"Given the—I am the ADMIRAL! I should have been FIRST!"

"Everyone is waiting for you in the command chamber." Sillicia's tired expression didn't change. "The Legates have been in session for a while now. They'll explain."

Something in the Commander's tone made Evelithria pause. "What happened to my ship? Is the hoard salvageable? Tell me the dimensional anchors held and we can gate in a recovery team."

Sillicia met her gaze without flinching.

“Commander!” The Admiral growled.

The young Commander handed the Admiral a hexagon and a ring. Evelithria snapped the hexagon to her chest and watched as a hexasuit flowered around her body. Then she pulled on the offered V-ring.

"The capital ship is gone. Crashed into the moon." Sillicia finally answered. "The hoard is not accessible. The crash site is dimensionally sheared. Covered in Astral Fountain contamination. Nothing is salvageable."

Evelithria felt something inside her crack.

"NOTHING?! No. It… cannot be… My hoard," she uttered, refusing to believe the Commander’s words. "The temple. The Entertainment Deck. The trophies. The artifacts. The—"

"Gone," Sillicia confirmed. "All of it is gone forever." 

The Admirals tried to grab the Commander’s thoughts with her hooks.

She found a terrible view of the moon there, one her mind simply refused to process.

. . .

Sillicia led the swaying, distraught Admiral across the smaller warship.

The meeting chamber of the Abyssal Sorrow was mundane in its décor compared to the Slayer's Sword's grandeur. A circular table dominated the space, surrounded by chairs and projection alcoves that displayed the holographic forms of Legates from across the Third Fleet.

Not all of them were holograms.

Legate Ixthia Frontenachii sat at the head of the table in the flesh, radiating cold authority. Beside her, also physically present, sat Legates Vethisa and Obliss. Their expressions were haggard, exhausted—the look of Wendigos who spent the past several hours managing an utter catastrophe.

"Where are Legates Theraxia, Vindarria, and Krussha?" Evelithria asked as she entered, noting the empty seats of her trusted supporters.

"Reincarnating," Ixthia said simply. "They were murdered during the evacuation."

"Murdered—" Evelithria's eyes widened. 

Murdered… just like she was murdered.

"Murdered by dungeon artifacts wielded by their own kobolds." Vethisa's voice radiated barely contained fury. "Many Legates and Commanders were killed. Over two hundred pradavarians turned against us today."

"We need too…" Evelithria ground out. "Make an example. Show them what happens when—"

"We will," Obliss interrupted. "It was a well-coordinated suicide attack. Every perpetrator is currently being reincarnated under maximum security protocols and being placed under arrest in kobold quarters."

"In kobold quarters?" Evelithria's voice rose. "They murdered us and you're giving them HOUSE ARREST? We should be…”

"Once again, ALL kobolds, except for a select few, have been separated and confined to individual quarters in small groups pending our investigation," Ixthia stated, glaring at the Admiral. "Every warship is being scanned by Corpse Seekers and gun units for concealed dungeon artifacts. Half of Weapon-Net is still down and lagging so the process is slower than we’d like it to be. The Datamancers are busy sealing the deep fold breaches and containing the released memetics.”

In the shadows at the chamber's edge, Evelithria noticed movement. Keeper Morrígan stood there, bandaged face turned toward the gathering with unsettling stillness. And beside her, held by her bony, bandaged hand, stood none other than…

Archer Silvertail.

The gray cheetah wore a simple, baggy, gray, cloth shipsuit.

“There you are, you little bastard—” The Admiral hissed.

The kobold stared at her with violet-gold eyes. 

He wasn’t afraid of her. Why wasn’t her kobold afraid of her?! Why in the Abyss was he reincarnated before she was?

She spun to look at Ixthia. The Wendigo Legate radiated irritation and… smugness? Superiority?! What in Slayer’s name was going on here?!

"Archer Silvertail has been reincarnated and reassigned to my household," Ixthia said. "He provided extensive testimony regarding the kobold rebellion."

“Reassigned?! Why?!” Evelithria began, head spinning. She looked across the stern, weary faces of the gathered Legates, finding no support there.

“Archie worked on the Entertainment Deck,” Ixthia pointed out. “Considering how there is no longer an Entertainment Deck… he’s no longer employed in that particular sector. Now, Datamancer Kipriss, if you would.”

The nervous-looking crow snapped her claws, and a holographic projection of Archer appeared above the meeting table.

"I was one of many who wanted to resist you," the recorded Archer revealed to a Wendigo interrogator. "We couldn't fight back directly, the blood contracts prevented it. So we found another way."

"Who organized this?" the interrogator demanded.

"Everyone who was fed up with things. We talked on the Entertainment Deck, deep in the dungeon where there were no recording devices. We planned. We found dungeon-runners who could provide the artifacts. And we waited."

"Waited for what?"

“To die often enough,” Archer answered.

“Why?” the interrogator asked.

128: Twisting the Knife

“Dying often enough… decays the blood contract,” Archer said. “Specifically… dying close to a beast, room, or artifact that infests or corrupts the mind and soul.”

The Admiral choked, recalling that Archer died far too often recently. She thought him a careless idiot…

"We found vulnerabilities," the holographic Archer narrated calmly as if reciting a shopping list rather than a confession of treason. "The blood contract binds the conscious will. It prevents direct action against a Master. So, we attacked our own consciousness. Some of us sought out specific dungeon artifacts. Like the Mirrors of Desire that pull and tear identity on level 28th of the Labyrinth. We stared into them until we didn't know who we were anymore, until our very souls started to tear.”

Evelithria's grip on the table tightened until the metal groaned.

"Then there was poison," Archer went on. "Neurotoxins from the Alchemy labs. Just enough to degrade the synaptic pathways, to burn away sensation. Without active nerves, there can be no pain of disobedience." 

"What else have you done?"

“We sabotaged our owners' private Void-blood pools with microscopic mana-eating dust scraped from the null-room of the dungeon, weakening ourselves and our dragons.”

Evelithria snarled at the betrayal. It was no wonder that she felt so exhausted and dizzy even after the six hour Void-whale bath!

“What else?” the interrogator demanded.

"We smuggled larvae from Entertainment Deck. Parasites. Things that eat the mind and soul from the inside out. We let them nest in us. We let them chew away the parts of our souls that loved life, that feared pain, that honored the contract. We gradually hollowed ourselves out until we were twisted husks, sheared souls devoted to a single mission. We captured metal Elementals and high level metal-type, mind control bugs that would mark us as dungeon sentinels… waiting for the right time to strike."

“What was the ‘right’ time?”

"Any opportunity… A mistake big enough made by the fleet High Command or the Admiral. Nothing specific, maybe encountering a memetic that brings down the network long enough for us to strike. Maybe a dungeon. Maybe a god-tier entity. Maybe… a world dangerous or dastardly enough to crack the façade of Frontenachii invincibility so badly that we could strike while the fleet was reeling." The smile widened. "The Emperor of Earth gave us the opportunity. And we took it."

“Tell me the names of all your collaborators!” the inquisitor demanded.

“I do not know their names,” the cheetah answered. “We wore dungeon-monster skulls and rotting robes that hid our features. We distorted our voices with Nightariaum grass when we met inside the Entertainment deck to plan the rebellion.”

The recording ended, holographic Archer and the interrogator winking away.

Evelithria glared at the real Archer Silvertail, standing quietly in the Keeper’s embrace. He looked healthy. Whole. He wasn't a total blank, wasn't confused or drooling, radiated pure hatred her way.

“How’s he… so coherent?” Evelithria asked.

“I spent two hours restoring his mind and soul for the purposes of this interrogation,” Keeper Morrígann stated. “It wasn’t easy. Both were incredibly damaged. It took a lot of searching in the Astral for all of the lost pieces.”

“Blasted idiot, you let..." she hissed. "You let dungeon parasites eat your minds?”

"We did it to stop you," Archer replied. "And it worked."

"It worked," Ixthia agreed with a barely concealed smirk. "The rebellion was successful. Too successful, if you ask me."

"Because of incompetence!" Evelithria slammed her fist onto the table. "My security chief—"

"Is dead," Obliss cut in. "Murdered by her own pet male. As were far too many of our officers today. This wasn't a security failure, Evelithria. This was a systemic collapse of the doctrine you championed."

"It is the Frontenachii way!"

"Which was proven… deficient today," Ixthia corrected. 

"Deficient?!" Evelithria spat the word like it was poison, slamming her palms against the celesteel table. "The Fear Doctrine has sustained the Frontenachii Dominion perfectly thus far! It is the engine of our expansion! Without fear, the lesser races have no incentive to obey! Without pain, there is no discipline!"

"And yet," Ixthia purred, languidly stretching her arm across the table to stroke the face of the bandaged up male wolf kobold who emerged from a nearby alcove with a cup of Ambrosia. "Your engine just exploded, and your discipline just murdered half your command staff."

"It was a localized failure!” Evelithia barked. “An anomaly caused by—"

"It was inevitable," Ixthia cut her off, voice dripping with a sickly sweet condescension. She didn't look angry; more like a gourmet chef critiquing a burnt meal. "You treat fear as a blunt instrument, Evely. You assume that if you flay a ‘bold hard enough, they break into submission."

Ixthia’s claws gently grazed the wolf’s throat. The wolf shuddered, his eyes dilating with a glazed, desperate adoration. He leaned into the lethal touch, his breathing hitching.

“Do take a moment to observe Bradberry Pimm," Ixthia stated, gesturing to the shivering wolf. "Does my little Brad fear me? Absolutely. He knows I could peel his skin off in sheets right here on this table. But look closer, Evelithria. Look at the dilation of the pupils. Taste his… desire for me, his want for my company. Witness his dreams of the future where he will have a mansion and a collection of pretty human servants at his call!"

She ran a nail down the wolf's chest, drawing a thin line of blood. The wolf didn't pull away, letting out a whimper-moan.

"You drown your ‘bolds in fear until they have nothing left to lose," Ixthia lectured, "I drown them in fear, yes... but then I pull them up and fill them with pleasure and promises of hope. I give them a bliss so intense, so shattering, that the pain becomes a necessary price of admission. I make them addicts to my gifts, Evely. I promise them all… their own little, lovely pets to play with, a perfect heaven to retire on when they get too worn out or too old to serve me."

Ixthia grabbed the wolf’s chin, forcing him to look at her. "My Bradberry doesn't just serve me because he's afraid. He serves me because he's terrified of living without the high I provide. He loves me. Sickly, desperately, brokenly... he loves me. And a slave who loves his Lady will tear his own heart out before he lets a dungeon artifact harm her."

She released the wolf, who looked bereft at the loss of contact, practically slumping against the table leg. “Isn’t that rid, Bradberry, darling? You’ve protected me today against some very mean, confused ‘bolds, haven’t you?”

“Yes, my Lady!” Brad barked. “I tore the traitors apart for you!”

Evelithria opened and closed her mouth, struggling to produce a rebuttal. All of this felt like a setup, a horrible play which she had no hope of derailing.

“Bradberry and Archie came from the same world,” Ixthia pointed out. “Born of the same stock, children of a doomed Earth dominated by us in nineteen eighty eight when… what was it… Ah, the Denver dungeon nearly consumed their planet. Both from… which town was it, darling?”

“Ferguson,” the wolf kobold answered devotedly.

“Ferguson,” Archer stated coldly and glared at the wolf whose tail was fluttering happily in Ixthia’s presence.

“That’s it,” Ixthia purred. “Ferguson. Both Bradberry and Archie were assigned to the Entertainment deck at about the same time. They’re about the same age. The only vital exception was that… I only played with Archie once… when he made a foolish mistake and got himself sliced in half by a metal sentinel and Bradberry is someone I enjoy quite often. I believe it’s you who spent the most time with Archer, isn’t that right, Evely? Datamancer Kipriss?”

“That is correct, my Lady.” Kipriss manifested a chart, traitorously flashing numbers at the Admiral and the other Legates. “Lady Ixthia’s kobolds overwhelmed the traitors, defending her against the few rebellious ones. Thus, Legate Ixthia lived while you died, Legate Evelithria.”

"You see? You create dangerous victims, Evely," Ixthia finished, sipping her wine. "I create devotees. That is the deficiency. You are a butcher; I am a goddess they learn to cherish."

"It is disgusting," Evelithria sneered, looking at the panting, desire-radiating wolf with revulsion. "You... You're playing nursemaid to the livestock. Corrupting them with softness!"

"It is enduring," Obliss interjected, "Endurance is the only metric the Empress cares about. You relied on a brittle approach. It shattered. And now, thanks to your rigid adherence to 'tradition,' we have lost a Leviathan-class capital ship, our primary hoard, and nary our foothold in this dimension!"

Evelithria felt the room shrinking around her. 

"I will get a new capital ship," she insisted, "we will glass this disobedient planet! We will punish—"

"You will do nothing of the sort." Ixthia shook her head. “The Master Builders cannot produce a new capital ship quickly enough due the... inconvenient actions of our wayward Princess. This planet is to be turned into my Pleasure World, where our lovely ‘bolds will be permitted to frolic as much as they desire! As long as they’re nice and cooperative, they’ll be allowed to buy or rent their own estates and human pets to play with!”

“I will contact the Empress and—” Evelithria hissed.

“Go ahead.” Ixthia shrugged. “The Empress already knows of your failure. She is exceptionally displeased with you. The transmission reached Omnithornia and through it, our lovely Empress herself.”

What transmission? Evelithria’s heart hammered. They had all turned against her! Leviathan's tits!

"The Empress expects results, not craters on the moon," Obliss added. "We have already sent her the situation report and requested immediate reinforcements to stabilize the situation."

"Reinforcement?" Evelithria felt a cold pit open in her stomach. "Who? Second Fleet?"

"No. The Second Fleet is preoccupied with the Onyxdarr conquest campaign. We called in the Sixth Fleet." Ixthia’s eyes danced with amusement. "They are already in orbit. Soon they will be helping us weed out the traitors."

Evelithria recoiled as if slapped. "The Greens? You called the Gardeners?! To an… unconquered zone? Those pathetic, annoying…"

“We haven’t gotten results,” Ixthia stated. “So we’re switching tactics. We will offer the humans of this world the strawberry and a raised sword. Given your catastrophic failure, the Third Fleet Legate Council majority agreed that a... Biological, soft, more… Seductive, gradual approach is required."

Evelithria stood trembling, her entire world fracturing. Her hooks felt it from every side: She was being mentally mocked by her peers from every direction!

“But,” she let out, grasping for ideas. “We… we need to know how the capital ship was destroyed!”

"The network went down, and became overwhelmed by released memetics. We don’t know how exactly it was taken. Our Seers and Scruts weren't able to properly penetrate the data-void of the crash site," the Datamancer stated. "The entropy cascade is too dense. We have no logs from the bridge, no black box of the ship Overmind to consult. No visuals of the interior. Just... the single System-wide external broadcast. The Emperor's speech."

“The… what?” Evelithria asked. “What speech?!”

"Datamancer Kipriss," Ixthia commanded. "Do play the recording. Let our former Admiral see exactly to whom she lost her ship."

Kipriss snapped her fingers. A holographic projection bloomed in the center of the table.

It was the view from the Captain’s deck. The audio was distorted, crackling with static, but the voice... The voice was undeniable. It was the voice of the man Evelithria ordered executed today. Her niece’s human kobold Administrator.

"This is the Emperor of Earth, speaking from the bridge of the Frontenachii Third Fleet capital ship Slayer's Sword..."

129: Fear and Love

Evelithria watched, paralyzed, as the primitive spoke through the mouth of her own ship. She saw the cracked skull mask featuring a bullet hole. She digested the words—the audacity, the sheer, unadulterated arrogance!

"...You looked at eight billion humans down below and saw inventory. Saw future servants. Saw meat..."

She saw the moon growing larger in the viewport.

"...Admiral Evelithria ordered her execution. Her own niece. No evidence. No trial. No mercy..."

Evelithria listened, her Fractal Engine heart flaring with absolute hatred. 

“I'm going to bend you over my knee and… teach ALL OF YOU to love humanity!” The recording reached its crescendo. The reactor cores flared. The hull disintegrated. And then, the Slayer's Sword, her capital ship, the pride of the Third Fleet smashed into the lunar surface in a blinding flash of utter annihilation.

Evelithria stared at the view of the impact crater. It wasn't just a crash. 

It was a statement. A gravestone. A permanently-sheared spot of reality, teeming with over a hundred Astral fountains.

"He destroyed it," she breathed, the reality finally sinking in. "He destroyed my beautiful ship. My hoard. My Sword..."

"It's worse than destruction," Kipriss noted, her beak clicking. "The memetic payload... it originated from the ship. Someone unlocked the safety protocols on the bridge. Someone sabotaged the network. Unknown Omnids and prads must have helped the Emperor of Humanity, turning the ship's own systems into a broadcast tower for this... viral message. Undoubtedly it was the runaway Princess, plus some others. When the speech occurred, our best Seers observed a manifestation of a vast, liminal V-cast spire formed between the Earth and Slayer’s Sword. An unknown fox-themed Omnid Archmage assisted the Emperor from Cascade, North America."

“Cascade is under my occupation,” Sillicia said. “I will find this fox-mage and bring them to justice.”

"Who helped the human Emperor?" Evelithria demanded. "Who was on the bridge? Who betrayed me? Who ordered the evacuation?!"

"We don't know," Ixthia said, sounding almost delighted by the mystery. "The Astral Fountains and the crash wiped everything clean. It's a forensic dead zone. Was it a traitor in our midst? A Gun Unit? A rogue Datamancer? Did the Emperor possess one of the crew remotely with some kind of concealed artifact? Or perhaps..." She trailed off momentarily. "Perhaps he simply offered our ‘bolds something better. Just as I warned you."

"The primitive spoke of love," Obliss sneered. "Of friendship."

"A crude, unrefined form of pleasure-binding," Ixthia corrected. "He offered them emotional ecstasy, and our own ‘bolds allowed him to crash our capital ship. He is playing my type of game, Evely, not yours. And he just made a winning move."

"He is… just… Just a human," Evelithria murmured. "I didn't sense any magic in his soul. None!"

"He is a clever rival," Ixthia said. "And a dangerous one. The gunshot to the head clearly didn’t kill him. He turned your own Sword against you by offering the crew a different kind of high. We have no idea who pressed the buttons, who gave him the wheel, or who unleashed the entropy... but we know why they did it. It happened because you didn’t offer your kobolds… enough pleasure, enough rewards. It’s as simple as that, darling."

"I..." Evelithria grit her teeth, fists clenching until her claws drew blood from her own palms. "I will strangle him myself! I will find him! I will peel him apart layer by layer!”

"Maybe," Ixthia shrugged. "You’re welcome to do whatever you desire as a Frontenachii Elder. For now, we’ve voted to strip you of all kobolds and Third Fleet Commanders since you obviously don’t know how to manage them properly. Now, if you'll excuse us, Legate Evely... we have a fleet to manage. And you have a briefing to prepare for Admiral Colette. I suggest you work on your explanation for why and how you allowed a supposedly magic-less species dismantle your ship."

“Stripped of my kobolds and Commanders?! WHAT?!” Evelithria barked.

"Rebellious kobolds don't harvest resources. Dead ships don't conquer worlds. And dead Admirals..." She smiled cruelly. "...don't give anyone orders."

Evelithria went still. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying," Ixthia said, "Under Frontenachii Naval Code, Article 14, Section 3, an Admiral who loses their capital ship due to extreme negligence can be immediately stripped of rank and possessions pending a full tribunal and a vote of a Legate majority."

"I am the Theater Commander!" Evelithria roared, standing up. "I fully subjugated forty seven systems! I expanded the Aegis further than any of you! You cannot strip me of—"

"We already did," Vethisa stated. "The vote was unanimous. You were... incapacitated at the time."

"You are no longer Admiral Evelithria," Ixthia said, savoring the words. "You have no flagship. You are therefore, a mere private passenger on Commander Sillicia's vessel until further notice."

Evelithria looked for support and found none there. "You... you… We are in the middle of conquering a world—”

She probed the minds of the present Legates and found only glee and hatred there. The bastards were feeding on her fear and panic!

"The kobolds need to be punished severely!” She desperately tried to redirect the conversation. “Public executions! Permanent wall splicing! They need to be reminded—"

"The kobolds have been reminded of nothing except that they can hurt us," Ixthia replied. "And every Legate and Commander has been reminded that the creatures who dress us, feed us, and guard our sleep can turn against us at any moment if properly motivated." She paused. "We have larger concerns than your desire for vengeance."

"Larger than a fleet-wide rebellion and loss of my ship?!"

"Yes." Ixthia's claws drummed against the table. "Such as the inconvenient fact that all of Omnithornia heard that blasted speech."

“W-what?!” The words hit like a gunshot to the temple. Evelithria felt her extremities begin to tremble with the first stirrings of a panic attack she hadn't felt in ages.

"Given the catastrophic loss of our capital ship, the irrecoverable destruction of our primary hoard, the elimination of our main resurrection facility, the destruction of the Entertainment and Pleasure deck, the compromise of our Weapon-Net, the coordinated kobold uprising, and the... embarrassment of the situation, the Legates have determined that new leadership is required."

The Admiral choked.

"You removed yourself from command when you lost the Slayer's Sword." Ixthia's voice held no sympathy. "An Admiral without a capital ship is not an Admiral. An Admiral without a hoard is not an Admiral. You've been demoted to Legate status. This decision is final and permanent. Also, we will not be splicing anyone to any walls. An Omnid Stabalist ship just gated to this dimension straight from Omnithornia, tracking the liminal spire signal. They wish to... monitor our fleet, so that we do not commit any local atrocities. We voted to show them the interior of the ships of the Sixth Fleet as example of our... excellent community service of helping doomed species turn their dying worlds into lovely gardens."

"You can't DO this!" Evelithria shrieked. "I am EVELITHRIA FRONTENACHII! You can't just—"

“I believe that we’re done here,” Ixthia stood up. “Let us enjoy the sabotage-free pleasure deck of Commander Sillicia’s ship. For her impudence, Legate Evelithria is thus banned from participating any further in vital fleet matters. Any further antagonistic action from her will merely cement our decision and censor her further. Admiral Colette Frontenachii of the Sixth Fleet will take over as our temporary figurehead. All in favor?”

Green arrows ignited as the Legates voted with ring taps.

Evelithria wanted to jump Ixthia, to tear out her throat, but several female wolf kobolds stepped out of alcoves, aiming their railguns at the ex-Admiral.

As the holograms winked away and Ixthia’s party rapidly departed through the doors, Evelithria spun toward the shadowy corner where the Keeper stood with the cheetah kobold.

"KEEPER!" The ex-Admiral howled desperately. "You were supposed to guard the resurrection temple! What happened?"

Keeper Morrígan, released the kobold and glided forward, her bandaged face unmoving. The black and gold robes flowed around her skeletal form like liquid shadow.

"I died as I had foreseen and my temple was lost," the Ankou’s voice carried the weight of steel-like certainty. "I know not what occurred, as I cannot remember the last five minutes of my death, for they were fractalized from my mind and soul by the Song of the Wormwood Star. I warned you, Evelithria. I saw the liminal tree wreathed in gold flames. I saw the ship shearing in twain. I saw the fountains of unlife. I saw devastation and ruin like no other."

"And you did NOTHING to stop it?!"

"I warned you that reincarnating the Princess through the Well would steer your fate toward absolute disaster. I told you to use Phoenix Tears! I told you that if you proceeded, the Sword would slip from your grasp." Morrígan's skeletal fingers flexed. "You dismissed my warnings as riddles. You proceeded anyway. And now… a new path unfolds forward."

"This isn't MY fault!" Evelithria's knees hit the floor. It definitely wasn’t a posture of submission, her new body was simply too weak, lacking magic to support her elder soul, trembling too violently to stand. Tears filled her eyes. "I did everything RIGHT! I had the Princess under control! I had the Temple secured! Someone ELSE failed! Someone ELSE is responsible!"

“Who?” The Keeper asked.

"How the fuck should I know?!" she wept. “I need to… I want—"

"You want a great many things, Evely," the Keeper said. “Alas, you cannot attain them anymore. You have no power here anymore. The Third Fleet now belongs to another.”

"You planned this. You and Ixthia's party! You’re all complicit!” the ex-Admiral cried.

“I, like the others, simply choose the best path forward after my incarnation,” Morrígan stated.

“What fucking path?!” Evelithria growled.

"The Green Admiral will plant her gardens." Morrígan's voice took on a hollow, resonant quality. "She will tend them with the hands of her Terraformers. She will believe in gradual victory. Alas, the rune of transformation hangs inverted over this subscribed world." 

Evelithria felt utter despair consuming her. The Keeper was sputtering more vague gibberish.

"Dagaz! I see the hands of infinity reaching from the nothingness betwixt the stars." Morrígan's skeletal fingers traced patterns in the air that left afterimages of pale, violet light. "Five fingers on each hand, and between them, eight billion souls of this world. The hands do not grasp—they cup. They cradle. They entwine. They carry. And what they carry grows stronger with each breath and each glance. The Emperor commands. The Starry Void conceals and pulls. The Song fractalizes. The Dragon judges and blooms. The Sea of Fox sees and understands all. Her twenty eight thousand eyes SEE me and bite at my Astral hooks, tear them apart. I... cannot see... further ahead, cannot attain greater clarity. My threads are torn."

Evelithria opened and closed her mouth, words dying in her throat like suffocated birds.

There was no logic here. No reason. Just a skeletal maniac speaking in riddles about cradle-hands, fox eyes, Dagaz runes, surrounded by armed female kobolds of Division 881 who looked at a Frontenachii Admiral without a shred of proper terror. Evelithria refused to accept her demotion, refused to believe that she had fallen so far after having it all in her grasp.

The meeting room felt too small. The air tasted recycled and stale.

With a strangled noise of pure, impotent rage, Evelithria rose and spun on her heel. She wiped her tears and marched toward the door. Her newly printed, unconditioned legs trembled with the effort to maintain a regal stride.

She half-expected a railgun blast to the back of her head. Part of her almost wished for it—it would be a cleaner end than this bureaucratic dismantling of her existence. But no shot came. Silence reigned.

Evelithria burst into the corridor of The Abyssal Sorrow.

It too taunted her.

Compared to the soaring, cathedral-like architecture of The Slayer’s Sword, this hallway was utilitarian and cramped, featuring zero spliced humans. Sillicia was clearly a cheap bastard, choosing to cut every possible corner to save every O-cent.

She needed to find a place to think. To plan. To breathe.

But where? She didn't know this ship's layout. It was a Planet-Dominator vessel, a glorified tin can compared to her Leviathan-class masterpiece.

A figure leaned against the wall nearby, picking at his teeth with a claw.

It was the wolf. Bradberry Pimm. Ixthia’s pet from… Ferguson, or whatever.

He looked up as she approached, expression devoid of the groveling fear that should greet a Frontenachii Admiral. He just looked… mild.

"You," Evelithria snarled, marching up to him. "Wolf. Direct me to the VIP suites. Immediately."

Bradberry blinked slowly. He scratched his ear, then looked at his nails. "The VIP suites are full, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" Evelithria’s voice rose to a shriek. "I am Admiral Evelithria! I demand—"

"You're a cast-out Legate with no ‘bolds to your name," Bradberry corrected. "I was right there, you know."

130: MacPaws

Evelithria’s claws extended, her instincts screaming at her to flay him alive. To remind him why his species existed. To paint the walls with his insolence.

She stepped forward, ready to strike, to tear out his throat—

Bradberry yawned. 

Why the fuck wasn’t he scared of her?!

The ex-Admiral scanned the wolf’s mind. It was full of devotion for his mistress and… There was a tiny magitek, spider-unit camera, blinking with a trio of red lights from his hexasuit's pocket.

You are a butcher, Ixthia’s voice echoed in her mind. I am a goddess.

This smelled like another setup.

If she killed the wolf here, in a hallway, over a minor slight, she would only prove Ixthia right and never get her kobolds back! She would be portrayed as a mad, unthinking beast lashing out because she had lost control. Ixthia would laugh. The other Legates would nod knowingly. See? they would say. She is a mad failure. She deserves her demotion.

Evelithria froze, her hand trembling inches from the wolf’s throat.

Bradberry didn't flinch. He didn't even stop picking his teeth. He looked at her with bored eyes.

Inside Bradberry’s head, he wasn't seeing a furious Wendigo. He was remembering his previous job. He was remembering the crushing boredom of standing outside the McPaws restaurant at a Superstore in Ferguson, handing out promotional flyers.

. . .

“Two for one,” memory-Brad droned. “Check it out. Two burgers for the price of one with this coupon.”

Humans and prads walked past him, ignoring him. It was drizzling slightly. His vest was soggy. A prad husky girl suddenly flashed towards the wolf. “Hi Brad! Are you giving out flyers? Do you want me to take all of your fliers? Alec and I can turn them into paper planes and launch ‘em into Ferguson Quarry!”

Brad sighed. “Nah. My manager is watching through that there cam. As much as I'd like to, I cannot give you all of the fliers.”

“Mmmm… I have doubts,” the husky tilted her black and white head to the side, sniffing the air. “She probably lied to keep you in line. Smells like lies. Ain't nobody is watching you.”

“Nessy,” Brad said. “Go be annoying somewhere else. I really don’t have the energy for you.”

“Okkay, fine, let's pretend that your manager is watching soooooper diligently! That camera has a resolution of like ten pixels, dude. I could, like… Do a hundred laps around the building, come back with a paper moustache crafted from a flyer? And then a paper beard? And a paper bowtie? And a paper vest…”

“Nessy, for Slayer’s sake, please let me be,” Brad yawned. “You can have ONE flyer. That’s it. Do not circle the Superstore!”

“Booo,” the husky girl huffed. “That’s it! I’m cursing you with ‘manual breathing’ for your unfriendly attitude!”

Brad rolled his eyes at her, mentally dismissing the black and white prad.

. . .

Evelithria dove out of his head, realizing that she was just another annoying customer to him. Just another… Nessy. 

She truly had no power here… couldn’t hurt him. Not really. Not in a way that mattered. This interaction was nothing compared to the ecstatic highs Ixthia gave him. If Brad died today by her hand, he would be greatly compensated, given an Estate on earth filled with a harem of human girls willing to service him daily.

Brad wanted, desired Evelithria to attack him!

"Well?" Brad asked, shifting from one foot to another. "You want a room or not, Legate? ‘Cus, I got orders to put you in Guest Quarters C."

Evelithria lowered her hand, shaking with the effort to suppress her rage. "Show me," she hissed out, the words tasting like ash.

"Right this way."

He turned his back on her—his back!—and sauntered down the hall. Evelithria followed, burning with increasing humiliation with every step.

They walked for ten minutes, descending deeper into the ship, past the officer decks, past the armory, down into the sections usually reserved for junior staff and kobold barracks.

"Here we are," Bradberry stopped in front of a narrow celesteel door. He tapped the panel. "Guest Quarters C. Room 9972"

The door hissed open.

Evelithria stared.

It was a box. A literal metal box. There was a bunk bed bolted to the wall. A small, sad-looking waste disposal unit. A desk that looked like it had been gnawed on. A sink. A basic toilet.

And the smell.

It reeked of musk. Of unwashed fur. Of fox.

"A fox bold lived here," Evelithria ground out.

"Yeah, Scrutimancer Ipymmr," Brad nodded. “She’s down on the planet along with the rest of 881, staying in Seeker Alpha, looking for magic power gloves, or vamps, or whatever else.”

"This is a kobold kennel!"

"It's… Cozy and minimalist." Brad shrugged. "Look, do you want it or not? Because there’s other, smaller, less clean options I can offer for you to rent."

“RENT?! Less clean?!” Evelithria’s eye twitched. She wanted to strike the kobold dead so badly. 

Brad yawned again, amused by her bubbling rage.

The ex-Admiral stepped inside the cramped room, feeling like she was walking into her own coffin. "Leave me."

"You got it, Legate. Oh, dinner service is at 1800. Ah, right… sorry, you missed it. Vending machines and showers are at the end of the hall. Use your V-ring if you want some chips or a wash."

The door slid shut, sealing her in with the suffocating smell of fox and throbbing, aching limbs that felt like they didn't belong to her.

Evelithria stood in the center of the room, feathered tail thrashing left and right. She kicked the metal desk. It didn't break; her new foot just throbbed with pain. She screamed, a short, sharp sound that bounced off the close walls and mocked her.

She sat on the bunk. The mattress was thin foam.

Think, she commanded herself, struggling to mentally stay above the ocean of despair. Think, Evely... You are not defeated. You can claw your way back. Use every resource. Crush them all.

She needed assets. She needed intel. She needed someone who wasn't actively trying to undermine her, or trying to get killed by her hand to get a harem of filthy humans. She needed inspiration, a calming voice in the darkness. The answer came to her after a few minutes of contemplation.

Nexxali. Her most effective, trusted executioner, one with a record of absolute obedience and perfect problem solving skills. The utterly devoted serval girl who could solve any planetary problem with her voice and her railgun not connected to the Weapon-Net. A top Marshall, her cleaner, not monitored by anyone. The one Kobold who could still obey her, if simply asked to 'clean up' a problem.

Evelithria tapped her V-cast ring.

"Cast Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim," she ordered. "Priority One encryption."

Static hissed. Then, a connection.

"Admiral?!" Nexxali’s voice burst through. "Oh, thank the Slayer! You're alive!"

There was no visual, only sound.

"Marshal!" Evelithria barked, clutching at this one remaining, trusted lifeline. "Where are you? Report!"

"I'm... kzzztzzzzzhhh... and alive-ish!" Nexxali yelled. 

It sounded like static was interfering with the transmission. Probably the damned memetics still not fully purged from the network. “Only… kzzzhhh… slightly banged up.”

Evelithria breathed out, struggling to stay calm, claws digging into the shoddy mattress smelling of fox. "What the fuck happened in the Temple?"

“Horrific, no good, terrible... khhhzhhhh... things!” Nexxali cried out dramatically. “What did the Keeper tell you? Surely you've spoken to her!”

“Nothing of value,” the ex-Admiral snarled. “She ranted of… a liminal tree and orange flames and five Dagaz… fingers and infinity.”

“I see. Welp, that sounds like Morrigan alright. Always spouting utterly eldritch nonsense. Staring at the abyss too long doesn't lead to sanity. Always a cryptic cunt as ever,” Nexxali agreed. "Oh! I bet she and the Legates orchestrated the whole uprising thing with the Emperor! I saw the Emperor and Keeper... kzzzt... whispering to each other! The cheeky human wasn’t dead. That is to say, there’s no way he’s a mundane human. He was totally dead but also, he was alive! How? No idea! I was going to see what they were whispering about… but I got bonked with something on the back of my head! It was likely one of the temple guards turning against us! The Emperor or the Keeper must have taken control of their feeble minds or paid them off!”

Evelithria’s heart thrummed at the confirmation of her suspicions. "I knew it! I knew Morrígan was compromised!"

"Totally compromised, I bet! That crazy beerch practically offered him tea!" Nexxali shouted over the hiss of static. "Listen, Admiral—wait, are you still Admiral? The comms chatter out here in the debris field is wild. I'm hearing rumors about... kzzzt... a demotion? Please tell me it's a lie! Tell me I'm still serving the glorious Admiral Evelithria!"

Evelithria flinched, the humiliation stinging fresh. "It... is a temporary political setback, Marshal. A misunderstanding by the Legate Council. They have panicked."

"Panicked? Those spineless jellyfish!" Nexxali roared with righteous indignation. "How dare they! After everything incredible you've done! After we conquered so many planets together! I am outraged on your behalf! I am currently giving the middle finger to a piece of debris that looks like Legate Ixthia just to express my anger! Take that, you dastardly bureaucrat!"

Evelithria felt a warmth bloom in her chest. Finally. Loyalty. Actual, tangible loyalty. "Marshal, report your status. Where are you?"

"I'm... zzzzzhhhkkk... floating! In my hexasuit! Somewhere near the Moon!" Nexxali yelled. "I'm drifting blind! Still got like twenty hours of oxygen but I’m runnin' low on... snacks!” The serval laughed jovially, sounding somewhat strained. “Never mind me, my Lady! I’ll get picked up sooner or later by someone, I bet. My emergency beacon’s on. N’ways, what is the strategic play? How are we striking back? Surely you have a plan to crush these traitors? Where are you at?"

"I am currently... reassessing the situation," Evelithria said, pacing the small room, half crouched so that her antlers wouldn’t scrape the low ceiling. "I am on The Abyssal Sorrow."

"Sillicia’s ship? That brown-noser tryhard?" Nexxali scoffed. "Ugh. She probably loves that you're demoted. She's always wanted your spot on the letterhead. But tell me, My Lady—who is commanding the fleet if they stripped you? Surely not Ixthia? Surely that knobfold’s too busy molesting her staff and planning her Pleasure Planet Paradise Hotel chain to run the fleet!"

"It's worse," Evelithria spat, eager to vent to her one remaining confidante. "They've called in the Sixth Fleet to present our good side to Omnithornia. Admiral Colette was... temporarily given my position."

"The... kzzzt... Greens?" Nexxali sounded horrified. "The Gardeners?! Oh, My Lady, that is insulting! They're going to come in here with their Terraforming bees and their 'peaceful subjugation' nonsense? They'll turn the whole planet into a greenhouse and bore us all to death with their unending criticism of UwUs!"

"Exactly!" Evelithria cried out. "It is a farce! Colette will try to seduce the humans with addictive bio-luminescent flowers and fruit baskets! It will take far too long! We need to get my niece back! We need to locate the Keys!"

"Disgusting," Nexxali agreed. "Soft power. Weak. Not like your glorious, celesteel-fisted approach. So, when does Colette arrive?"

"She's already in orbit along with an Omnithornian Oversight warship," Evelithria revealed. 

“Ugh,” Nexxali repeated. "Stupid lame greens. And what about the Emperor? Is the fleet tracking him? Please tell me we're hunting him down, because once I get picked up, I’m totally going to assassinate him again! This time, I won’t be fooled by his immortality voodoo! I’ll back his soul on a Lazarus bracelet and throw his body into a volcano!"

"We can't track him!" Evelithria kicked the table again. "The crash site is a data-void! The network is in disarray! And the Legates voted for Colette to manage things! They are letting him get away with it, Nexxali! They are letting a primitive mock us! Mock me!"

"Unbelievable!" Nexxali shouted. "If I wasn't currently floating in space surrounded by... whoosh... angry space-ghosts, I would get down there, find him and bite his face off myself! Wait... My Lady, did you manage to save any of the access codes? If Colette is coming, surely you kept some leverage for yourself? Something to get those bastards?"

Evelithria hesitated. "I... no. Everything is gone. My hoard is gone. This is a blank V-ring with minimal access. They took away my kobolds... My commanders."

"What what will you do?"

"Hrmmmm. I still have my businesses in Omnithornia and North Acadia... Now that an Omnid warship is here, I can use them to..."

“To do what, my Lady?”

“I...” The ex-Admiral chewed on her lip. “I’m… going to call Homeworld and hire the best mercenary I know. Ask her to gate here and track the Emperor and Princess down.”

“Who?”

“Hunter Nictavia,” Evelithria said.

“Oh? Is she any good? Better than me? 'Cus I won't fail again, against that tricksy human!”

“Nikky is the best,” Evelithria said. “Got her own private cruiser, scruts and weapons. She’s… very expensive. But this is now personal. I'm willing to spend a few million O-Bux for this job… Oh, yessss…”

“Yeah? What’s her Omnitype? Can she be trusted? Have you worked with her before?”

“A Krampus,” the ex-Admiral revealed. “Yes. She… permanently took out the agents of a competing Omnicorp that was trying to muscle in on my businesses in Omnithornia.”

“Permanently?! Kzzzz… How?! What, like beyond Incarnation?! What kind of weapons can do that sort of a thing?”

“Experimental Stabalist Weapons. Dimensionally-entwined guns,” the Admiral said. “Concept rewriters linked to her Fractal Engine heart, linked to our most sacred belief. Once her nine reindeer locate the Emperor, the naughty Princess, their minions and Third Fleet traitors… it'll be the end for them, and a Merry See-Mass for me. He he he he.”