Monsters—from the Id!

The blue-white sun of the Volarian Empire’s throne world hovered over the courtyard of the Imperial Palace like the eye of an unforgiving god, heating the air and adding a harsh, oppressive quality to the atmosphere that mimicked the oppressive atmosphere pervading the thoughts of the Councilors. The Emperor had called an emergency session of the Council, although “emergency” was a misleading term, considering that the Councilors were summarily rounded up for a meeting any time of day or night that the Emperor desired one. The Council had no regular meetings anymore—not since the Emperor’s proclamation that the Council no longer handled the day-to-day affairs of the Empire and had no purpose assembling. The Emperor had even suggested, none too subtly, that Council meetings without his attendance would be considered an act of treason.

Nervous whispering filled the air. The Emperor’s last “emergency meeting” of the Council had been a witch hunt to excise Council members who had fallen out of favor; officially, the meeting had been convened to “review the loyalties of Council members.” Even the most loyal Councilor trembled at the memories of that inquisition. They still bore the scars, both physical and psychological, from the Grand Marshall’s “interrogation” sessions. Councilor Radnek still walked with a limp from his interrogation; Councilor Gralnor still screamed in his sleep from having to witness it.

Despite the Emperor’s scare tactics, however, some Councilors pressed for a return to regular Council sessions. Some even advocated a return of power to the Council, much to the dismay of those who trembled in fear of the Emperor’s wrath. Although many, in secret, wished for some way to end the rule of this despot called Emperor and bring back the greatness that was the Volarian Republic, few dared to speak such blasphemy in public, lest they disappear in the night. Instead, a growing but elusive Resistance movement fought a war against the Emperor from the shadows, leaving cold trails that stymied the Grand Marshall’s men and further infuriated the Emperor. Some Councilors secretly supported the Resistance, and many more hoped the Resistance would succeed, but there were still Councilors who denounced the Resistance, either because they were comfortable in their ornate palaces and their positions as the Emperor’s favorites, or because they were afraid that the people they represented would suffer from the Emperor’s retaliation.

A gong sounded, signaling that the session would begin soon. Councilors reluctantly filed toward the Grand Chamber, wishing they could remain in the oppressive heat without rather than face the spiritual chill within. As the last Councilor, hearing the warning bell, scurried to his place, the outer doors closed. A door at the opposite end of the chamber opened, and the Emperor’s Honor Guard, handpicked by the Emperor himself to insure loyalty, entered in two columns that flanked the door. Following them was the Grand Marshall, then the Emperor himself.

The Emperor’s appearance belied the fear his name invoked; he was not a large or imposing man. One look in his eyes, however, told the unspoken story, for his eyes held an ever-present gleam of hunger—hunger for more and more power—that was tinged with a hint of madness. That hunger and madness were coupled with a charisma that, in his early days, took in all those unaware of his true nature. The Emperor had charmed his way into the public eye, earning the trust and love from the figurehead monarchs of the Republic, and commanding such popularity from the people that no one batted an eyelash when he assumed the throne and named himself Emperor. At least no one batted an eyelash until the Emperor’s true nature revealed itself.

The Emperor took his seat, and without prelude, said, “It is time.” He gestured at the hologram at the opposite end of the chamber as the image shifted to display a planet—the Emperor’s next target of conquest. Outwardly, the world was like many others the Emperor had sought—blue oceans, green and brown land, pollution from a society that still relied on internal combustion. The Councilors knew this world’s significance, however. This particular orb had been considered many times, and repeatedly turned down—for one major reason.

“What about their planetary champions?” asked one of minor Councilors. This world’s champions had been the only beings ever to make the Emperor pale and turn his eyes from a potential conquest. Time and again, the Emperor’s advisors found him staring at images from the planet, his lips drawn together in a tight slash, his brow deeply furrowed. Many Council sessions had begun with discussion of whether to invade the planet, only to end abruptly when someone mentioned those same beings who, it seemed, held the Emperor’s respect—or fear.

“Their planetary champions are gone,” the Emperor said. “And in their place are beings who have no hope of stopping a fleet such as ours.”

“Where have these champions gone?” asked the Councilor. “How do you know they will not return?”

“They will not,” the Emperor said with an air of supreme confidence. “Two of them are dead. A third has returned to his home world. A fourth is no longer in this universe. A fifth is comatose and cannot regain consciousness. And the rest—” He shrugged. “The rest have no spirit to oppose us.”

“Is this information reliable, Exalted One?” The speaker was one of the younger Council members, one who still held the vain hope that someday the Emperor would make a mistake and the Empire would again become a republic. The other Councilors hid their dismay at this presumptuous one, fearing the wrath of their Emperor.

“You doubt me?” Even as his eyes flashed, however, the Emperor’s wrath proved to be short-lived, and with a deep breath he calmed himself. “I have it on the best authority that the information is correct. The Guardians’ Guild is no longer the force it once was. Their world is vulnerable now, and now is the time we shall strike—and win.”

“Are you certain that we will win, Exalted One?” asked another Councilor.

The Emperor smiled—a hideous, cold stretching of the flesh across his skull that eradicated all his charm. “This world its people call ‘Earth’ will not resist us any more than any other world we have added to our ranks.” He rose. “I will command this conquest personally, for nothing will give me more pleasure than to finally see that misbegotten ball of mud learn of its true place in the universe.”

The Council, as one, nodded. They could do nothing else.

#

As the doors to his private meeting chambers closed, the Emperor smiled to himself. Soon enough, he would have Earth at his disposal—and from there it would be possible to invade Nexam.

He hadn’t told anyone else about Nexam, not even his most trusted aides. The Emperor himself was only aware of the world because of the stranger who had approached him kilocycles ago. A world outside reality as he knew it. The stranger had told him of riches and power the Emperor himself could barely imagine; what was more, Nexam was the gateway to other realities that would be ripe for conquest. The way was now clear for the Volarian Empire to expand throughout the universe and beyond, with a new throne world waiting to be conquered—and all thanks to the stranger who had appeared from nowhere.

As if on cue, the stranger appeared again. “I suspected you’d come,” the Emperor said. “The flagship departs for Earth in a few cycles.”

“You should be present,” the stranger said. “The secrets to entering Nexam should be reserved for you and you alone.”

“Why not wait until the occupation is complete?”

“Someone could stumble across the portal before you,” the stranger replied. “You will already have your flagship, and the best time to strike will be as Earth falls. Why wait?”

“What about Alarax or Cyronus? Some of Earth’s defenders come from those worlds.”

“What about them? They will be unable to prevent you from conquering Earth, and their own sublimation into the Empire can wait until you have taken Nexam. From Nexam, you will have the power you crave, and the resources to make the Macroverse yours.”

“Are you certain that Earth’s champions will not stand in our way?”

“Their spirits are at their lowest. The most powerful of them will find themselves either so despondent that they lack the motivation to come to Earth’s aid, or so filled with anger and strife that they will never be able to organize an effective defense. I have seen to that personally.”

“Excellent,” the Emperor said. “And true power will at last be mine.” He smiled that wolfish smile of his.

The stranger smiled back.

#

Rear Admiral Tomak stood on the bridge of the Imperial Flagship Ravager, staring at the throne world floating below him, looking far more serene from this distance than it had a right to. The cruiser had been recalled from its mission at the edge of the Empire kilocycles ago, and the crew had been hanging above the throne world conducting battle drills ever since. The Grand Admiral, commanding officer of the Ravager, had been more tight-lipped than usual about the nature of their new orders, and Tomak was worried. Under ordinary circumstances, Tomak would have dismissed this secrecy as the Grand Admiral’s usual paranoia; however, this time the orders bore the personal seal of the Emperor.

A sudden chill swept across Tomak. The Emperor’s personal seal on a set of orders undoubtedly meant that he and the crew were about to be swept off to some remote corner of space to “recruit” yet another world for an Empire that could barely take care of its member worlds. Tomak sighed. It would be nice, he thought, if we would spend our time looking for new resources in the Empire instead of more mouths to feed. This, he knew, was why the Resistance had so much popular support, not to mention the unspoken support it received among certain council members.

Tomak turned away from the view screen, wondering why his thoughts had turned toward the Resistance. He’d never met any Resistance members, and the Ravager’s hunt for the head of the Resistance’s Intelligence arm had ended in failure, and the replacement of the previous Grand Admiral (with “replacement” making it clear the previous Grand Admiral had fallen prey to the Imperial Executioners). Conversely, the presence of the Resistance was as pervasive throughout the Empire as the oppressive nature of the Emperor.

The latter, he added to himself, thanks in no small part to the military.

Tomak’s introspection was cut short as the lift doors opened and the Grand Admiral strolled onto the bridge. “Begin preparations for departure,” the Grand Admiral said.

“Destination?” Tomak asked.

The Grand Admiral smiled. “We’re finally going to take over that backwater world the Emperor’s been obsessing over.”