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Awakening

There was nothing but darkness. No noises, no thoughts. Nothing but darkness for what seemed like forever.

Perhaps it was death itself, locked into an eternal purgatory with no sensation, no awareness. Nothing but darkness.

But it didn’t last forever.

Abel’s eyes had been open for some time before his brain caught up with him. He was still in his room at the brothel, the same room where he was almost killed.

Stein sat on a stool in the corner, stubbing out a cigarette the moment Abel’s lips started quivering.

“You’re fine, you just went into shock,” Stein scooted the stool closer to Abel and frowned. “You puked up that dog’s pill whole, don’t be such a fucking pussy.”

The door swung open and a voice called in, “Lay off Abel. He almost got killed.”

It was a stern young woman’s voice, all too familiar.

“Hada…?” Abel croaked out.

Hada emerged into the room. She was wearing a brown raincoat and had a brown fedora atop her hair, which she had styled into cornrows that trailed down to her shoulders.

“I’m sorry about this, Abel,” Hada sighed, grabbing a damp cloth from a basin and rubbing it on Abel’s forehead, “I didn’t expect things to get this bad.”

“Christ!” Stein snorted. “Never seen this firecracker apologize before! She must really like you, kid! Course, not enough that she won’t sign you up to whore yourself out for the cause!”

“There’s no indignity in doing anything in the name of liberty,” Hada leered back at Stein.

“Whatever you say, lady,” Stein clapped his palms together, “we’ll know if he fucks up or talks and if he does-”

“He won’t,” Hada said, her gaze on Stein unbroken. “Abel is my friend and a true ally of freedom. He might be a little too soft but we need someone with a softer touch for this mission and he was not responsible for those deaths.”

“They’ll be avenged tenfold in due time...”

“What happened...” Abel’s voice was hoarse and his tongue dry, “...to the Sirian?”

“That sick fucker?” Stein grinned. “We’re not the kind of place that caters to snuff fetishists. We’ve got plans for him but for now we’ve got him locked up in the basement.”

“Who the fuck was he, anyway?” Hada demanded. “I thought you screened your clients?”

“You try maintaining a galactic fucking database of every degenerate alien who’ve come to visit Earth to fuck some of the locals,” Stein rolled his eyes. “The dog is a nobody. According to his ID he’s a low-level manager at Luna Information Services. No spouses or close relatives and he’s taking a long break from work, alone. No one will miss him for a long time.”

He’s a Claw Agent...surely Frontus has a tracker on him...did they not check?

“A fucking office drone just decides he wants to murder a prostitute on vacation?”

Shrugging, Stein leaned back on his stool, “Sounds pretty typical to me in my line of work.”

Sighing, Hada rubbed at her temple, “I almost want to see the heir to the Empire enact conscription just to see those kind shipped off to the front lines.”

“Along with half of humanity?” Stein grumbled. “All to serve as cannon fodder in a fight against lizards?”

“Heir?” Abel whispered.

Hada and Stein looked at each other. Stein smiled and Hada curled her lips.

“A lot happened while you were asleep.”

That day would be stuck in Brolath’s mind forever.

A perfect storm had brewed: the war, the terrorist plot…

And now this.

The images replayed in the Regulian’s mind as he saw them hours ago live on the feed.

Emperor Haresh the Third, standing as proud and tall as he could muster in public. Standing at a podium at the Imperial Academy’s main campus in Regulus Prime. He was surrounded by Imperial Guards and a few slave attendants dressed in colorful silk uniforms.

His words were lost on Brolath. A typical speech about imperial unity and the Empire’s inevitable victory. Compared to what was to come, they meant very little.

“HURRAH TO THE REPUBLIC!”

Vulpeculan students sprang to their feet and pulled out their flags of yellow, white, and green, flapping them around and singing songs of the heroic members of the VRR and their deeds.

The Emperor kept his face as stony as he could. The Guards remained still, except for the leading Captain, who quietly began calling for backup. None of the protestors dared breach the perimeter around the podium and the Guards refrained from using force.

The Guards didn’t notice when one Vulpeculan pointed his flag straight at the Emperor and called for full Vulpeculan independence. Perhaps that was nothing out of the ordinary, but said Vulpeculan had a friend by his side and his paw was jabbing forward, covered up by the flag.

Emperor Haresh noticed, his eyes flashing. The Emperor was overcome with energy unbecoming of his age and health, and leaped to the right, covering a Vulpeculan slave with his body just as a pistol fired.

Haresh fell to the ground, clutching at his throat and his mouth whispering. A few Guards came to the Emperor’s aid while others took out their guns and advanced on the ground.

The Emperor was dead.

Brolath would never talk to that old Regulian ever again. He would never have any answer to what he did in his last moments. All Brolath could tell is that the Emperor saw the gun, saw that it would miss him and hit his slave instead, and then jumped to protect his slave at the cost of his own life.

And the Guards didn’t notice any of this until it was too late.

Leon was clutching at Brolath’s arm the entire time as the assassination played out. Surely the human had no love for the Emperor, but just like Brolath, he knew that nothing good was going to happen after this.

The Guards failed…

Brolath’s datapad was ringing and he looked over to see Proclath’s name flashing on it.

Or did they?

“I have to take that...” Brolath whispered, nuzzling at the human’s cheek in an effort to calm him down.

“No...” Leon gasped, “...Brolath, what will happen?”

“Everything will be fine,” Brolath licked Leon with his rough tongue, “the Empire will be fine, as will its subjects. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Okay...”

Reluctantly, Leon let Brolath go.

Scooping up the datapad, Brolath exited the hotel room and began making his way to Rorgh’s room. Now that the human was not around, Brolath allowed his panic to take root. His chest went tight and he leaned up against the wall, trying his best to slow his breathing.

War...no Emperor...who let this happen?

The alarm on the datapad grew louder. Proclath really wanted to talk and Brolath dreaded to hear what the Guard-General had to say.

Or worse, if he had a hand in what happened.

Brolath pounded on the door and Rorgh answered immediately. The brown Lupiad was not wearing a shirt and Brolath’s eyes went wide at the brand on his arm, denoting that he used to belong to the Lupiad Collective. Rorgh immediately pivoted his shoulder to hide it, under normal circumstances, Brolath would have questioned it, but nothing was normal now.

“The Emperor is dead,” Brolath muttered, pushing past Rorgh. The datapad’s chimes rang out still. “Proclath is calling.”

“Fuck,” Rorgh slipped on a black shirt. “I saw the footage, you don’t think...”

Rorgh trailed off and Brolath opened his maw to try and deny it but couldn’t find the words.

“We should not idly speculate,” Brolath shook his head, “it will do the Empire no good.”

“The Guard, we’re supposed to be trained for-”

“I know...I know...” Brolath closed his eyes, “...but accidents happen...the Guard won’t benefit from this so what you’re suggesting is...”

Pausing, Brolath stared down at the increasingly annoying datapad. The repeating sound and red pulsing adding to his anguish.

“...Impossible...” Brolath finished before swiping the screen.

The encryption program began crunching away, spitting out a series of meaningless code before the video feed was accepted and Proclath’s pale-furred face popped up on screen. His scars as bright as the orange embers flickering on the tip of the fat cigar sticking out of his mouth.

“Guard-General Proclath,” Brolath bowed, “I apologize for the delay.”

“Regent,” Proclath replied, coughing out a cloud of smoke.

A chill ran down Brolath’s spine. Fear began to reek in the room.

“Regent?”

“With the unfortunate passing of Emperor Haresh the Third,” Proclath closed his eyes and held a moment of silence, “a Regency Council has been formed and due to my position as Guard-General, I was nominated for the role and won a majority of votes in the provisional council.”

“Shouldn’t Prince Fargeth take the throne?”

“Fargeth, yes...” Proclath yawned, “...unfortunately, the evening before the assassination, someone leaked photographs of him being the passive partner in a relationship with his Sirian slave. We simply can’t allow such an Emperor.”

“Whoever leaked it should be ashamed!” Brolath growled. “To think that there are Regulians so disgraceful that they’d out someone like this!”

“And if we ever find out who did it, they’ll be disgraced even worse,” Proclath shrugged and kicked his feet up on his desk. “But as far as the Empire is concerned, Fargeth cannot become Emperor. It’s not fair but it is what it is.”

“What about the others in line?” Brolath opened up another tab on the datapad and loaded the official line of succession website but found that it now linked to a page talking about the Regency Council’s duties, “What the hell?”

“Far too many issues with them to allow them as well. I could go into details but we’d be here all day and dealing with their scandal is not your job,” Proclath puffed his cigar. “This happens all the time during succession. The Emperor can name whoever he wants as his heir but if the Guard, the Claw, the military, or others find any issues, well...we correct his wishes and find a different member of the dynasty to inherit.”

“Who do you have in mind?”

Shrugging, Proclath continued, “We’re working on that. Rest assured, the Guard will make the best choice. The military is cooperating with us, so our candidate should win unless the Claw tries to fuck with us; which they most certainly will try to do.”

“The Claw?”

“Yeah, they’ve got their own candidate they’re going to try and push so they can poison the Empire with talk of planetary autonomy, truce with the VRR, letting humans and Vulpeculans become commissioned officers...” Proclath wrinkled back his nose in disgust.

Rorgh cleared his throat and spoke with a hint of sarcasm, “When did the Claw become so radically progressive?”

“Ha! They’re up to something and the humans and the Vulpies will be hurt the most! When the Claw wants to sniff your neck and be friends, watch for the dagger up their sleeve! You can never tell what those kinds are thinking,” Proclath rolled his eyes. “Speaking of which, how’s your Claw contact? Getting along?”

“He’s been quite busy recently,” Brolath clenched his claws into the table, out of shot of the camera. Proclath could not know that Frontus had been silent for quite some time, let alone that they were relying on him to find Abel. “As have we.”

“Well, that’s okay. That’s great,” Proclath coughed as a thick cloud of smoke suddenly escaped from his nostrils and mouth without having taken a puff. “F-fuck! These damned lungs. I think they gave me an asthmatic Vulpeculan slave’s lungs!”

Proclath continued hacking violently for a good minute while Brolath and Rorgh sat in silence, knowing better than to interrupt the Regent’s fit. Eventually, Proclath halted, wiping away spit from his chin and stubbed his cigar out.

“Gonna need another transplant, I think,” Proclath groaned. “Anyway, we’ll need a full operational report in two days, complete with testimony from your informant.”

Brolath lashed his tail violently as a chill shot down his spine, “We’ve been quite busy and the Emperor did not order us to-”

“Well, we’re between Emperors now and now I’m in charge, so...” Proclath raised his brow, “...two days should be sufficient, yes?”

“Four days please, your honor,” Rorgh suddenly interject.

“Justification?” Proclath asked.

“Having had no reporting scheme to the Emperor, we need extra time to catch up and since our informant is currently in deep cover with very narrow communication windows, we’ll likely need two extra days just to get his testimonial.”

“Four days, then,” Proclath nodded. “Long live the Empire.”

“Long live the Empire,” Brolath and Rorgh repeated as the transmission cut out.

The two Guards were silent, the air as tense as a battlefield.

“Thanks, Adjunct,” Brolath clenched his fist, “but I don’t think it will be enough.”

“It was the best I could do, doubling the time,” Rorgh sighed. “We’re going to have to get to work ourselves, to hell if we step on the Claw’s toes in the Communes!”

“Indeed,” Brolath rubbed at his chin, “try to get in touch with Atay, I’m sure Frontus has already tattled to him. Give me a call in five minutes whether you reach him or not.”

“Where are you going?” Rorgh asked as Brolath opened the door to the hallway.

“Going to start asking some questions...”

“Greetings to all who value freedom, this is Brother Peter, the ‘Bedrock’of the Vulpeculan Republican Resistance.”

A voice, deep and soothing, but still clearly Vulpeculan, spoke on the radio.

Abel was sitting on the edge of his bed, hands folded under his chin, while Hada lounged in a chair, looking at the radio intently.

“God created all life equally and promised universal salvation. He has taken many forms across the galaxy, but His voice is the same, speaking of peace, unity, and equality.”

“Peace has always been the desire of God and nothing angers Him greater than the spilling of blood. One cannot make war upon another without warring upon one’s own family, for all species in the galaxy are one’s siblings.”

“But one cannot have peace, unity, and equality in an unjust system. The Regulian Empire delights the Devil and angers God, their boot can do nothing but serve to drive all species further away from God and eternal freedom. There can be no salvation under the Regulians.”

“The humans of Earth, in one of their sacred scriptures speak of a Whore of Babylon who oppresses the world. That she rides upon a seven heated beast and partakes in the blood of the righteous. The Regulians are clearly this as it is stated.”

“That is why, despite blood staining the grace of God, the Vulpeculan Republican Resistance claims full responsibility for the successful plot on Emperor Haresh’s life. We do not despise him and pray that we might meet him again in heaven as friends, but as long as he lived the machine that is the Empire would keep running, grinding the spirits of all who dwell within it, from the masters living in their palaces to the slaves toiling in the mines.”

“We will not rest until the independence of Beta Vulpeculae is recognized under the leadership of the Vulpeculan Republic. We will grant all who dwell in our desert home full emancipation and voting rights, regardless of species, faith, or creed. God loves all of His children, whether they worship Him or not, and wants us to be free, healthy, and at peace.”

“No more slavery! No more imperialism! No more war! My brothers and sisters, I was once a mere slave, carried as a kit from my nomadic parents and bonded to a Regulian noble who beat me, whipped me, even molested me. But were it not for him taking a trip to Earth with me in tow, I would have never met with the Galactic Church. I would have never saved him and gotten him to recant his ways and emancipate his slaves.”

“If I, beaten and abused, can find hope in this harsh world we live in. I know you can as well.”

“Vigilance under oppression! God save the Republic!”

The radio crackled and a smooth Regulian voice suddenly interjected, “What you’ve just listened to, is nothing more than a zealot from a known terrorist group who has hijacked the-”

“Hah!” Abel laughed, thinking of the Lacertan broadcast from before the incident, certain that was either staged or broadcast by the Regulians as it did the Lacertans no favors. “The VRR sure gave them a black eye, first the Emperor and now this!”

“Mmhm,” Hada grunted and passed Abel a bottle of vodka, which Abel swigged with glee, “celebrate now, cause things aren’t gonna get any better. One tyrant down, another to come.”

“Already got another, Grand Regent Proclath!” Abel sneered. He had heard his friends, the Guards refer to a Proclath before and couldn’t help but wonder if it might be the same one. Regulians weren’t exactly known for original names. “More things change, the more they stay the same. One dead kitty won’t free Earth.”

“Billions more will...”

“Hada-”

Hada clicked her tongue, “When they told me you went soft, I didn’t quite believe it.”

“No, it’s not-

“St. Petersburg, Frankfurt, Marseilles, Manile, Jakarta, Sydney, Shanghai, Vladivostok, Mumbai, Dubai, Lagos, Cape Town, Chicago, Toronto, Houston, Los Angeles, and Sao Paulo. Hell, tack on the miss they had, cuz I’m certain someone lived there outside of Buenos Aires!” Hada shook her head. “Do you even know how many people were killed when those cities were destroyed? When the Regulians turned them into nothing more than craters without them so much as even demanding capitulation?”

Hada grabbed the bottle back from Abel and pressed it to her lips, closing her eyes as she swallowed a gulp and wiped her lip clean. Red lipstick stained the neck of the bottle, “They killed billions, Abel, and they didn’t even give them a chance to surrender! Why should I care about them?”

“Look, if killing a billion is what is necessary, then fuck it, kill a billion!” Abel reached for the bottle but Hada held it out of his reach. “But if I had a choice and could end this war now without any more blood spilled and get our freedom, I’d take it, wouldn’t you?”

Hada ran her finger along the rim of the bottle, streaking her lipstick stain.

“Remember when Gure was telling you to calm down, back in the French Quarter?” Hada said with a smile.

“Yeah…” Abel sighed, “...where is he, by the way?”

“Back with Arnold’s crew still, probably stealing supplies and other small-time shit,” Hada looked around the room, the collection of erotic magazines and advertisements making it impossible to escape the scope of Abel’s mission. “They thought I went a little too far with the drivers and so they recommended me to Glass, said I’d be more his style and the rest is history.”

“Glass?” Abel asked, trying his best to remain aloof. “Who is Glass? I’ve heard that name before.”

Hada’s brown eyes slowly panned to Abel as she blinked and stared with a fiery intensity.

“Earth’s greatest hero...”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve already said too much,” Hada cleared her throat and stood up, dusting off her coat, “I don’t work for him directly, he’s got me working here instead but...he’s doing more meaningful work than any other resistance leader alive.”

“What kind of work?”

“Total freedom from the Regulians,” Hada tossed the bottle to Abel, who caught it. “This year or next, at the latest. You can drink to that.”

“How?”

“Look, I trust you, but uh, they don’t,” Hada pointed towards the door, “and if I go blabbing on about Glass, they won’t trust me either. They think you’re a spy for the Claw.”

Abel stretched his neck just as a chill went down his spine, trying to appear natural, “Because of all those deaths.”

“The fact you didn’t have a tracker on you bought you another hour to live and I bought you the rest by sticking up for you,” Hada picked up a magazine with a muscular Lupiad holding a pale, naked woman from behind. “I couldn’t get you a more dignified assignment, I’m afraid. If they can’t settle for killing you, humiliating you by getting fucked by an alien will do.”

“Stein seems to really hate aliens,” Abel whispered.

“Can you blame him?” Hada dropped the magazine onto the counter. “Billions dead on day one of Regulian contact and-”

“It seems different, like...” Abel swallowed, thinking of Hada’s adopted parents, the Vulpeculan Princess and her consort, “...you love your mothers, right?”

“Of course I do!”

“And you know I love my parents too?”

Hada nodded.

“I think Stein hates all aliens. I think he wants them all dead.”

“He runs an alien brothel. He’d be out of business if that were the case.”

“Just something about how he speaks bothers me. Even just talking about me having sex with an alien and he’s gotta refer to it as degenerate,” Abel paused. “I get bad vibes from him. Like if we got peace he still wouldn’t rest until every alien is dead or off Earth.”

“Stein really hates aliens.”

“What about Glass?”

“It was nice seeing you again, Abel,” Hada nodded and opened up the door. “Go ahead and keep the bottle.”

“Hada, come on!”

“I’m glad we’re working together again.”

Hada slammed the door shut, leaving Abel alone in the musky chamber within the brothel.