Among Bright Stars... (30 page)

“Look upon the future,” Kulcarin smirked and
hovered over the wounded Urksa, while he held a trikir device in
his hand. “Warg is the first of us, soon there will be others like
him. It is we who shall rule Falcania-Vor.”

The 'Skatha' Warg modeled on Falcanian myth,
Kranix pulled this creature from Aranskrai’s head. Warg, a mere
test of form and function. It could endure harsh environments, even
cold space. Thanks to the organic armor designs which Kranix had
provided to Kulcarin. When the time was right, there would be
others like him. These Skatha would be Kranix’s finest army. Kranix
was very pleased that Fafnir, who worked at his own agenda brought
this moment to fruition. It felt that its host was now sated, being
allowed to shed this long hungered for blood. How Kulcarin hated
Urksa, letting the Skatha Lord loose his anger and do a thing that
he thought to be his Shotar’s bidding made Aranskrai belong even
more to Kranix.

Tri-claws clutched at Urksa’s neck. Kulcarin
pushed his arm cannon roughly into the Guilthari’s cheek. When this
was at last complete, the caste would stand in dishonor. Sharr Khan
then in the Dreikatha would replace Vorskrai with a puppet. Perhaps
he would even remove them as a voice all together from the high
council? Kranix knew differently, another had plans for the fruit
of this game, but it pleased the creature to permit Kulcarin to
think such thoughts. Aranskrai proved always far more useful when
he wasn’t a simple instrument.

The cool alloy of Kulcarin’s cannon pressed
to his face, Urksa prayed. Vorskrai had become a D’Har-Ziral
follower because of the tangible messiah to be seen in it. Unlike
the Tahru, who were fine for philosophical discussions, or indeed
looking to discover bold ways to experience life. Some Urksa knew,
even became grand gourmands, pleasure in food existed as a
commandment in the Tarik Way. Yet all the same, Kheira had been
real, he could believe in her. Unlike the Tahru, who clung to a
fabricated religion that they themselves only half-way bought into.
Yet, Urksa Vorskrai prayed not just to his beloved Vralis, but the
Telchar and those lightening wielding, avenging Vorchar who they
served. The Guilthari Lord doubted that his prayer would be
answered.

Kulcarin at last crushed the glowing trikir
device. It had been a Falcanian spark, now forever gone. He ordered
all his men to obliterate each soul. There would be reports that
they met armed resistance, that Vorskrai had planned a rebellion
with the intent of putting into place a communist government, Urksa
as its dictator. Kulcarin knew this would be easily believed, given
that the Guilthari lent themselves well to such beliefs. He would
be a hero for preserving the Imperial Majesty of the Khanate.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Blood and brain stained the deck, what had
been Urksa Vorskrai now all but an unrecognizable corpse. The
explosive pulse from Kulcarin’s arm cannon proved often to be very
destructive. Hovering away, Warg and the rest of his Skatha
followed, while Kulcarin laughed. He swayed his tail, and clicked
his pincer, stroked at his forked goatee in contemplation. “Yess,
yess, very pleasurable.”

[New York: Capital Of The Imperium. One Week
Later]

In a phalanx of Praetorian Guards Imperator
Romulus walked, his aide and the Falcanian Herald moved down the
causeway that joined the Senate to the Imperator’s palace. Romulus
wore his royal purple garb, along with George Washington’s olive
crown on his brow. He only ever wore the crown for the most
important State occasions. It was such a powerful symbol, that
Romulus believed that it should only ever be brought out for the
most sacred of moments.

Today JR Giovanni would affirm the accords
with the Falcanians. The Imperator had been alarmed to learn of
Sharr Khan's ill health, yet Nadia assured him, nothing changed,
her husband’s wishes for a lasting peace still stood, even though
Sharr at the moment seemed to be incapacitated, he remained Shotar.
Giovanni did not know what to make of the curious cybernetic
illness which nearly struck down Sharr Khan. Thought the best way
to honor the man, would be to ratify their agreement in an open
Senate Meeting. Thus all the pomp, and circumstance.

“Good evening, you’re Highness.”

Romulus and his party stopped, no one should
have been in the causeway. Sejanus had cleared the area himself.
“You!” Exclaimed the Imperator.

Kasumi 9 stepped out from behind a column,
repaired from her firefight with the Falcanians, her dragon tattoos
shined bright on her upper arms.

“Arrest this, this thing!” Commanded the
Imperator, who as he gave the order had been quite pleased to see
that the Falcanian Herald pulled out his coilgun and took aim at
the Synthicon having recognized the woman for the assassin that she
was.

“You have wasted our glory.” Another voice
called out before anyone could act.

Kasumi 9 pulled out her double coilguns, a
deadly smile struck across her beautiful artificial face. “My Lord
here he is, the traitor.” The Synthicon trilled. Kasumi 9 targeted
JR Giovanni. Though she aimed at Julius, the Synthicon fired her
other gun, and took down the Falcanian Herald, hit him in the head
while barely peering his way. “There. We don’t need any
interference.”

Gaius Trajan stepped out and clapped. “Well
done my lovely. Is she not an exquisite work of art Julius?”
Admired the Praetorian Commander. At least Synthicons, unlike those
abomination Morningstars made no pretense of being human. Besides,
Kasumi 9 really was no more than a shell for a
human
mind.
The Praetorian even considered upgrading himself, but changed his
mind when he realized it would mean no children. Trajan wanted an
organic legacy.

The Synthicon leaned on her Lord and kissed
him.

Outraged, it hadn’t occurred to him that no
one but the Falcanian moved to obey his order. JR Giovanni found
himself greatly missing Nathan Brigs, his old Lieutenant.

“You’ve wasted my work.” Gaius began,
dangerous. “All the time I’ve spent cultivating the Iksar’rang, the
science and technology they gave us. Our fear and prestige in the
world squandered because you want to become a Falcanian pet.”

“Peace Trajan that is the one thing I’ve
always worked for. The wars I’ve waged have been to make us strong
yes, but peace has always been my desire.” Julius tried to explain.
“Our people hunger for it. Surely, you of all understand that
growing up in the caravans --”

“That’s exactly why I understand your folly
old man.” Trajan spat, hatred laced his every word. That Julius was
no longer an 'Old Man' only fueled his anger for the reason why.
“The world let us burn, now all you want is to make ‘peace’ .”
Trajan’s eyes were consumed by hate. “You’ve lost your nerve my
Imperator.” A thoughtful hand on Imperator Romulus’s shoulder Gaius
smiled. “You will be honored and remembered just as Washington.” He
removed the olive crown from Julius’s brow and set it with
reverence onto his own. “I will declare a holiday in your name, and
raise you up to be a god. Your visage will forever look over this
Senate. You will eternally remain first among us, our savior, our
deliverer from The Great Burn.” Trajan fingered the hilt of his
gladius. He’d spent years waiting for this moment. “When I
journeyed to Ksar I promised their own Emperor we would make good
allies. The Q-X in Falcanian bones shall make perfect currency to
pay for their advanced technology.” Gladius pulled, Trajan plunged
the blade into Romulus’s chest, he twisted the short blade, and
slowly withdrew it.

Julius Romulus Giovanni spat up blood. “…I…
should have…”

The Praetorian folded his arms over his
chest. “Should have what?”

“Killed you!” He coughed, more blood came
up. Visions of cities rising, and cheering crowds clouded Romulus’s
vision – The bombs, the nuclear war that had plagued him for most
of his adult life. Romulus managed to lunge for Trajan. His
bloodied hand left fresh a mark on the one who would become his
successor.

“Thank you by the way for ridding me of our
troublesome Bishop.” Gaius told JR Giovanni, genuinely happy that
the cyborg monk had been exiled. “Perhaps though, I might invite
him back to witness my march onto Vanguard Island. Sharr gave you
youth, I will have that for myself and the Q-X in Falcanian bones
shall be forged into engines for my next generation
Excalibur
dreadnaughts. Both Earth, and Ksar shall fall to
my boot.”

“Do not lead my people to fire.” Were JR
Giovanni's final words.

“Come,” commanded the new Imperator. “We
must inform the Senate that the Falcanians have taken the life of
our beloved Imperator.” A lie, in service to the Republic. By the
end of the night, Gaius Trajan would find himself affirmed
Imperator. Promises that he would lead his people to greatness, and
pledges to the many senators that he would be as good an Imperator
as had been JR Giovanni always on his lips. By months end, a statue
of the fallen JR Giovanni would forever overlook the Senate. Yet
Giovanni's last work would be forever undone.

[India, Jharkhand: Palamu District,
Dusk]

Burnished silver, it slid under the tree
line, eyes zeroed in on the bison, hunger consumed it. The gaur
would make a fine meal. The dragon detected a human, it would wait,
the dragon after all remained most patient. It knew how to wait for
its prey to become weak so that it could easily slaughter what it
desired. Having strayed from its herd, the gaur masticated on
yellowed grass. Life in Betla National Park went relatively easy
for the bison, but for the annoying rhesus monkeys that sometimes
enjoyed using the dark coated oxen as a free ride across the nature
reserve.

The guar continued to chew, and glanced at
the edge of the forest..

Dusk, the dragon preferred to hunt when it
just became dim. True, humans had seen the naga, not just here, but
in other places on the Subcontinent. This nature reserve happened
to be pretty far from its normal hunting grounds. But it was time
to spread the cult of its worship, and so had made itself more
obvious to the natives. Silver metal scales shimmered, moved with a
metallic fluidity. The dragon walked on its wings, propelled ahead
by its rear claws.

Both the human and the bison seemed to sense
the naga which stalked the grounds.

Red eyes glowed, and with an unnatural
swiftness the naga sprung onto the bison, its jaw opened, and
buzzsaw teeth wrenched at its neck. Like an alligator, the naga
felled the oxen, twisted it into submission. The human lost his
nerve when he sighted the naga. He’d heard stories of the creature,
but until this moment hadn’t really thought it to be real.

Blood spewed over the ground, dead, the
bison fell, the naga rested on the newly brought down carcass and
sucked out it fresh succulent blood. Scalpel sharp claws skinned
the bison, cut away chunks of flesh which the naga voraciously
consumed.

Full at last, the silver dragon began to
change. Insides shifted, and became outsides. Torso rotated, began
to take on the vague shape of a human, or closer still to that of a
Goliath Falcanian. Wings moved to its back, rear claws became
upright legs and arms sprung from its sides. A concealing cloak,
what in reality had been a hologram enfolded around the thing which
had once been the naga. Fafnir T’Skarin completed his
transformation, returned to his preferred humanoid form. He had
come out here to grieve, away from Kheira and her D’Har-Ziral.
Oberon’s unforeseen death shook even him. Though ultimately Fafnir
T'Skarin knew he had won. Urksa Vorskrai, who had been an indirect
target killed by Kulcarin now left him in a position to take more
direct control of the Guilthari. Sharr Khan, incapacitated, gave
him breathing room to work at his agenda. The Rashalon Engine,
which he required to construct his biorobotic body, now only a span
away from his claws. The Shotar’s affliction might be only
transitory, Fafnir knew he would need a more lasting solution.
Overall, Fafnir considered recent events victory. Omicron
destroyed, thus removing a potential obstruction, as well as
providing Fafnir data which he needed for future ventures. Fafnir
gazed skyward, folded his mechanical arms, and smiled a fanged
grin. Plus, he had his beloved Imogen Drake up there, preserved in
her frozen slumber, until he chose to awake her, so that she could
rule over the Morningstars.

[Buckingham Palace]

Odin Battenberg, by the grace of God, king of
the Great British Empire, defender of the faith and prince-regent
of France, walked about his official residence. Lost in deep
considerations, he'd just left tea with his most trusted minister,
auntie Lilibet. The old lady, a sharp bird even in her advanced
years, offered sound advice on how to handle the situation which
recently unfolded at the Falcanian peace summit. They also
discussed how to be rid of Lord Blud. It was, Lilibet said too soon
to try and wrest control of the government from Prime Minister
Blud. However, auntie Lilibet also backed the man who Odin had in
mind to be Archibald Blud's replacement. “Commander LaSalle shall
be a wonderful Prime Minister. He's shown great faith and respect
in his service to the Crown. There's a wise head on those resolute
shoulders.”

Outside rain pounded in the courtyard. Beyond
the gates, London thrived.

Tablet in hand, Odin gazed over the official
report. The Shotar apparently suffered a sort of cybernetic
illness, peace though remained in the offing assured Queen T'Kara,
to all governments involved. “I should like to meet you Nadia.”
Odin remarked to himself as he thought of Sharr's extraordinary
wife, who Odin understood to be the very first Morningstar.

“I'd like to meet her as well, your
Highness.”