Act 4.1 - Delivery

The Saint’s Aegis emerged back into realspace at the edge of Zakkil’s gravity well. Almost immediately, a cruiser and a pair of frigates from the planet’s naval fleet began burning hard toward the ship, moving into escort formation. A squadron of fighters, presumably out on patrol, did a close flyby of the Star Citadel, dipping their wings in a respectful salute as they soared past the ship’s bridge.

Nalyra allowed herself a smirk as she tracked the small craft with her gaze. While she didn’t enjoy returning to her homeworld, she couldn’t deny the level of respect a Crown Daughter and Royal Hand enjoyed here at the center of the Monarchy. Zakkil itself was slowly growing larger in the viewports as the Citadel moved closer, the swirling clouds offering glimpses of the planet’s oceans and continents.

“All systems nominal, Crown Daughter.” Vessa glanced back from her station. “We are burning into stable orbit, and resupply craft are being prepared from Zakkil’s main orbital complex.”

“Excellent. Head Secretary, you have already contacted the High Fortress?” Nalyra looked to the Kelrana.

“I have, Crown Daughter.” She gave a small curtsy. Unnecessary, but perhaps it was a comfort to the woman. “The Queen Matriarch is expecting you and your prisoner at your earliest convenience, Highness. Her aide did stress the urgency of the situation, however.”

“Yes, it would not do to keep the Queen waiting, I suppose. Well done, Orli.” Nalyra favored the woman with a calm smile, and the Kelrana’s tails curled with happiness and pride.

The woman was quickly earning her position on the command dais, even in the few short days since she had started her duties. Orli now wore the officer’s uniform of the Saint’s Aegis, the clothing tailored to fit her stature and race. Instead of long trousers like Vessa, Mikka, and Nivi wore, Orli had requested a slim skirt, with a pair of holes cut in the back for her tails. It fit the woman well, the black cloth a stark contrast to her pale fur.

Orli didn’t currently have a formal station like the other command staff, instead being seated at the holotable in the center of the dais. Still, it didn’t seem to hamper her in the least — she had a pair of tablets with administrative access, and the woman was startlingly efficient with them. Already, Vessa and Nivi had more time to focus on their primary duties, as the Kelrana picked up the mundane tasks that tended to bog down the command staff.

“Mikka, prepare a squad of Armswomen to accompany me, the Shield Consort, and our prisoners to the High Fortress,” Nalyra ordered, leaning back in her seat.

“Should I have someone tie a nice little bow around Sivena’s neck?” Mikka snickered as she reached for her communicator. “Mark her as a proper present for the Queen?”

“I think we can forego the niceties this time.” Nalyra smirked at the Lieutenant Commander. “No point in dressing up a walking corpse.” She twisted the last two words viciously, her lips curling as she remembered the women kidnapped under Sivena’s orders. The operating tables with built-in restraints.

An echo of that anger whispered over the Bridge back to her, as Tor’laen shifted slightly at her side. The Ydani was standing in his usual spot, despite Nalyra’s best efforts. Her husband had even looked faintly offended when she offered him a seat, the expression on his face nearly drawing a chuckle from her. Of course Tor’laen wouldn’t let something as trivial as getting shot twice compromise his command presence on her bridge.

“Then let us be done with it,” Nalyra said, gracefully stepping down from her seat. She beckoned, both physically and mentally, to Tor’laen. Her husband immediately moved to her side, maintaining his usual two paces behind her, showing his respect as always. She sent a simple pulse of warmth over their Bridge. “Mikka, will you be leading the squad personally?” she asked, pausing at the top of the dais’s steps.

“Might as well, I guess.” The woman shrugged. “Been a while since I last saw the High Fortress.”

“Very well.” Nalyra nodded. “Vessa, you have the bridge until our return.”

“Yes, Crown Daughter.”

The interior of the shuttle was quiet, despite being nearly full. Tor’laen sat next to Nalyra, his back as straight as a steel rod, his gaze cold. Across from the Crown Daughter and Shield Consort sat their prisoners, flanked on both sides by Armswomen in full combat gear, rifles resting across their laps.

Sivena was now far from the imperious High Matron she had been when first setting foot on the bridge of the Aegis. Her hair was disheveled and shot through with far more gray now, her face devoid of makeup, her eyes sunken. She had not been mistreated aboard the Citadel, Nalyra had made sure of that. Three meals a day, a serviceable bed, a place to wash and relieve herself — Sivena had access to all of those.

No, this was entirely the former Matron’s own doing. Simply knowing that she was going to be dragged in front of the Queen Matriarch had been enough to reduce Sivena to a mere shadow of her former self. Nalyra could certainly understand, but she had no sympathy for the woman. It was a fate Sivena had earned by her own actions.

Rastia, on the other hand, had clearly weathered imprisonment better than her former mentor. The woman was obviously nervous, but not as panicked as she rightfully should be. Perhaps the mercenary just didn’t know what was waiting for her in the High Fortress. It was not like Rastia had ever even seen Nalyra’s mother before, after all. She had no idea.

In the seat next to Nalyra, Tor’laen shifted, causing Sivena to flinch. The Ydani’s face was a stern mask, his eye narrowed dangerously, his gaze fixed on the former Matron. His disdain for the woman was almost palpable, the pressure of his anger bearing down on her.

Nalyra merely smirked at the scene.

A beast, wasn’t it, Sivena? The thought caused her grin to widen. I suppose it is only right that you fear his fangs.

The Crown Daughter let her shoulder rub against Tor’laen’s arm, taking advantage of the tight quarters of the shuttle to disguise the action. She thought about twisting the knife — discussing the Queen Matriarch or High Fortress, reminding the woman of just what was waiting for her. She thought the better of it, however. There was no need to be overly cruel.

Nalyra could leave that to her mother.

“Crown Daughter Nalyra.”

The Zakkili in front of the door saluted in unison, their ceremonial armor gleaming in the artificial light.

“Commander Evinia.” Nalyra nodded respectfully back at the woman. “I have come to deliver prisoners to the Queen Matriarch.” She tilted her head slightly toward the two women behind her, both their hands bound in front of them.

“We were informed of your arrival, Crown Daughter.” The armored Zakkili made a swift gesture, and one of her women moved forward to take custody of Rastia. “The woman known as Rastia will be taken for questioning by Crown investigators. Her Majesty would like you to bring former High Matron Sivena before Her Grace personally.”

“I understand, Commander.” She mentally prodded Tor’laen to step forward. “My Shield Consort will be accompanying me. Is that acceptable?”

“If you wish.” Evinia gave a small bow. “Is there any threat or danger from the prisoner?”

“Sivena? No, none at all.” Nalyra glanced back at the bound woman. “I mentally subdued her during her arrest, and her psychic powers have been sealed by my Press.”

“Very well.” The Commander nodded to the woman by Rastia, and the honor guard led the prisoner out of the hall, panic finally starting to set in on the former High Lady’s face. Evinia then tapped the butt of her ceremonial polearm on the floor, the sound ringing throughout the room. One of the other honor guards touched a recessed panel on the wall, and the doors slid open silently.

Nalyra gave Mikka a small nod, then glanced at Tor’laen, catching his gaze. The Ydani stepped back, grabbing Sivena by the upper arm, causing the former matron to flinch. There was desperation in her eyes, and Tor’laen had to half-drag, half-carry the woman forward with him.

They entered the throne room, the hall brightly lit, the various great works of art and portraits immaculately polished in their places on the wall. Nalyra could feel a building sense of trepidation coming across their Bridge from Tor’laen. She was not surprised. On the shuttle ride down, she had mentally asked if he would prefer to stay with the Armswomen in the entry hall, but her consort would not hear of it. He would be accompanying her, he had claimed, as was his duty. She could only applaud his bravery.

At the other end of the room, Queen Azora rose from her throne, descending the steps leading to it, coming to meet them as she had before. How things had changed since then.

“Crown Daughter. My dear Nalyra, welcome home,” the Queen said with a smile that was somehow both cool and warm at once. “And you have brought a guest with you.” Azora’s voice dropped to a purr as she said the word, and even Nalyra could feel her stomach drop slightly.

“My—my Queen!” Sivena’s voice rang out, desperation oozing from her words. “The charges against me, they—they are false! I would never—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Azora wagged a finger at the terrified woman as she drew closer. Only a dozen paces away now, she towered over the former Matron. “Now is not the time to proclaim your innocence, Sivena.” Her voice was sweet, but with a certain hint of disdain buried beneath it.

Tor’laen released the prisoner and stepped back, moving to stand slightly behind Nalyra once more. Azora’s gaze touched him lightly, then focused back on the former Matron.

“Oh, Sivena. I had such high hopes for you after you succeeded your mother.” A touch of regret colored the Queen’s voice, as she started to circle the cowering woman. “Your family has done so well with the Casven system. A thriving colony, quickly moving toward becoming a proper Province in the Monarchy. And now, this nasty business rears its head.” Her tone flattened. Nalyra’s blood ran cold. “Royal Treason.”

Sivena fell to her knees, seemingly robbed of her ability to speak.

“So disappointing.” Azora’s voice returned to normal, almost pleasantly conversational even. “But, there will always be others to step in and take over House Freika’s duties, after all. As for your transgressions, we shall discuss that later, personally.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

She gestured, and a pair of honor guards moved forward, seizing the former matron. They had to drag her out of the room, the woman as limp as a corpse.

That left Nalyra alone in the room with her mother and her husband.

“Now then, on to much more pleasant matters.” Azora turned her gaze to her daughter and the Ydani. She could feel a wave of dread wash over their Bridge, and tried to soothe him. She was nearly in his mind as much as her own now, as his thoughts clung to hers, instinctive fear rising inside of him.

“Nalyra, dear, I must commend you on this…” Azora’s voice trailed off, and her eyes widened slightly, her gaze sliding between Nalyra and Tor’laen.

The Crown Daughter’s stomach did a flip. She knew. Nalyra was somehow perfectly certain of it. Her mother could sense the Bridge between her and Tor’laen. Her cheeks and ears started to burn.

“I had wondered about your petition to claim a Shield Consort, Nalyra, but I had never imagined this…” The Queen was smirking at her daughter, the knowing look of Nalyra’s mother returning to her eyes.

“I thank you for your permission in the matter, Majesty,” Nalyra said quietly, her gaze on the floor.

“Oh, come now,” Azora said, her voice full of amusement. “Let us all walk together, as we did when last we met.”

Tor’laen glanced at Nalyra for a breath, and she gave him a tiny nod, both of them moving to follow the Queen. For nearly a mark, there was only silence between them.

“Shield Consort Tor’laen.” Azora was the first to speak. “From all the reports I have received, you have conducted yourself in a manner that is a credit to your race and culture. Speaking as your Queen, know that your actions have done much to place the Ydani in a favorable light within the Monarchy.”

“Yes, your Majesty. Thank you, your Majesty.” His tone was formal, but notably stiff. Nalyra moved slightly closer to him.

“However, as a mother, I wish to extend my gratitude to you as well,” Azora said, her voice soft. A great deal of the imperiousness left her tone. “I have had to part with too many of my daughters already, and apparently you are directly responsible for keeping my dear Nalyra from departing to find the Maker.”

“I…I was doing my duty, your Majesty. Both to the Monarchy and to the Crown Daughter.”

“Your Crown Daughter, hmmm?” She looked down at the Ydani, something almost like a smirk on her face. “I doubt you enjoy hearing it from me, but welcome to the royal family, Tor’laen.”

He simply turned to look at Nalyra, his eye wide. She could only blink back at him.

“My Queen?” she dared to ask, looking past her husband to her mother.

“This business on Kelran, the loss of Taira, and what you faced on Orphila…they have given me much to consider,” Azora said, her gaze distant. “I feel as though I have been, perhaps, overly distant from family. The Monarchy takes so much of its queen. However, I believe I should still make more time for those closest to my heart.”

Part of Nalyra couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and yet so much of her wanted to. Wanted it to be real.

“And for you, Tor’laen. I would think you can understand why a Queen cannot give apologies freely, but do know that I feel regret for certain actions I took when we last met.” Azora shook her head. “Things are moving quickly across the Monarchy, and time does not wait for kindness.”

“I…I understand, Majesty.”

Outwardly, he was calm, but his thoughts were in chaos. Nalyra held tightly to him inside his mind, giving him something to ground himself with. Fear and doubt warred with confusion and wariness, with a current of anger and regret running beneath all of it.

“Perhaps you do,” the Queen said calmly, her expression a mix of royal control and maternal bemusement.

“Unfortunately, pleasant matters seem to always be cut short by business,” Azora sighed, her face returning to that of the Queen Matriarch once more. “There have been developments on the frontier, and specifically in your home system, Ydani.”

That caught Tor’laen’s attention, the man’s thoughts sharpening in an instant.

“In the Ydan system, Majesty?” he asked, his tone carefully controlled.

“Yes. I do not have the latest updates yet, but the situation seems to call for immediate action. I will have Zikara brief the two of you directly when you return to your ship, Nalyra.”

“Zikara?” Nalyra blinked in surprise. “Was Royal Hand Jalari not assigned to oversee the Ydani?”

“She was, yes.” Azora paused, her gaze focused on a painting of one of the oceans of Zakkil. “However, her reports were becoming…troubled. I dispatched your sister to assist her.”

“And you think the situation will require the presence of the Saint’s Aegis as well? Three Royal Hands in one place?” Nalyra stared up at her mother.

“Perhaps.” A smile danced around the corners of Azora’s lips. “After all, I would think you are rather uniquely suited to assist in the situation.”

Nalyra’s cheeks burned again at her mother’s teasing.

“I believe I do not need to state how important this matter is to all present, yes?” The Queen’s gaze slid over Tor’laen before finding Nalyra again. “You have done well with Orphila and the dispute on Kelran. I trust you will handle this matter with grace as well, Nalyra.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

Nalyra watched Tor’laen pace back and forth across her command dais, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He was tightly wound, she could tell from both his body language and his thoughts. She didn’t try to calm him, or push further into his mind, but left a small piece of her mental self sitting at the edge of his thoughts. A comforting link for both of them.

Despite third watch having already begun, the entire command staff was present, including Orli. The bridge outside of the command dais was also fully staffed, with a mixture of the usual crew and the night watch. The officers and ensigns were busy plotting a subspace dive to Ydan, making sure everything would be ready. The rest of the crew and the civilians in the Under Deck had also been informed of the impending dive, and their destination beyond it.

They were just waiting for Zikara’s call.

As if summoned by her twin’s thoughts, one of the officers on the bridge turned from her station, looking back at the command dais.

“Incoming Q-comm call from Crown Daughter Zikara, Royal Hand!”

“Thank you, officer. Route it to my personal console.” Nalyra glanced over at Vessa. “Let us have some privacy, Admiral. Sound dampeners on.”

“Yes, Crown Daughter.” Vessa tapped once on the screen in front of her, and the noise of the bridge faded away, leaving only the sounds of the command dais.

Tor’laen finally ceased his pacing, and moved to stand rigidly next to Nalyra. The Crown Daughter glanced up, catching his gaze for a heartbeat, before tapping once on the screen embedded in the armrest of her seat, and flicked her wrist, bringing a window up to hover in the middle of the dais.

Within a few seconds, Nalyra’s sister and her consort appeared on the window.

“Nalyra, there you are.” Zikara gave a wan smile to her twin.

A cold feeling started to gather in Nalyra’s stomach. Zikara was badly stressed, Nalyra could tell from a single glance. Not a good sign.

“Zikara. Queni’la. Greetings,” Nalyra said solemnly, respectfully.

“Greetings to you as well, sister,” the Aurelai said softly. “And you, too, brother.”

Tor’laen simply gave the man a nod, his posture still rigid.

“The Queen said you had news to share about the situation on Ydan, Zikara?” Nalyra asked, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever was happening right away.

Zikara and her husband exchanged glances, their faces falling. Nalyra’s jaw tightened.

“Yes.” Zikara took a deep breath. “We departed Kelran and arrived in the system to assist Jalari, after we received orders from the Queen. The situation was tense before, but within the past span, things have taken a sharp turn for the worse.”

“Worse?” Tor’laen asked sharply.

“It is…not a pleasant thing,” Queni’la began. “But it is good you are here in the call, brother. This is something that I think you would want to see directly.”

“See?” the Ydani muttered quietly, only loud enough for Nalyra to hear.

“The situation is volatile, at the moment,” Zikara continued. “We might be looking at a full-scale revolt or even civil war if things do not change.” The air in the command dais went deathly still. “Things began spiraling when these started appearing. I’m sending you translated versions of every variety my agents could get their hands on.”

A soft pinging noise let Nalyra know that her twin had sent the data, and with no small amount of trepidation, she flicked her wrist again, bringing up the images in new holograms.

Over a dozen posters and flyers hovered in the air, each covered with translated text, now in Zakkili script. They were unmistakably propaganda, their colors and designs aggressively eye-catching. All of them had one or two images on them, taking up nearly half of each.

Every image on the flyers featured Tor’laen.

Pictures of him on Kelran, on Orphila…even a few of his first trip to Zakkil as a prisoner. Some of them had him standing behind Nalyra, others had him standing alongside the Armswomen of the Aegis, weapon in hand, and a few even showed him carrying Nalyra on Orphila, after the assassination attempt.

The titles on each poster were all dramatized, each one more unbelievable than the last.

Outrunner Captain abandons his post and his duty!

War hero Tor’laen sells out his people to the Zakkili!

Former Captain lounges in luxury after betrayal!

Tor’laen — Once hero, now traitor!

Seduced by the Zakkili! Former hero, now a slave to lust!

Tor’laen offers his people up for vassalization! Zakkili slavery approaches quickly!

The command staff clustered around the hovering posters, brows furrowed as they looked them over. Tor’laen slowly walked forward, his eye wide, his gaze fixed on the flyers. Across their Bridge, Nalyra could only feel a vague crackling of his emotions, like static through an old emergency communicator. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the armrests of her seat.

“I think you can imagine the situation we’re facing,” Zikara said quietly, her and Queni’la watching the Ydani as he stared at the holograms.

“Yes. I imagine I can,” Nalyra muttered.

“Damnit!”

A sharp bang echoed across the dais, loud enough that even the noise dampeners could not fully swallow it, as Tor’laen slammed his fist into the edge of the holotable. All eyes went to the Ydani, and he stood there, gaze fixed on the table, shoulders heaving and nearly trembling with suppressed rage.

For a moment, everyone froze.

Nalyra wasn’t sure if she should go comfort her consort, but before she could act, Mikka beat her to it.

“Hey, big guy. Slow breaths, Tor’laen.” She put a hand on his forearm.

The Ydani closed his eye and did as she said, trying to steady his breathing.

“Apologies,” he said after a moment, eye still shut. “It was a momentary lapse in control.”

“It’s understandable, Tor’laen,” Vessa said across the table. “I think few would be able to keep their composure when faced with such…garbage.” She looked up at the posters once more, her lip curling.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, Tor’laen!” Nivi chimed in, clearly trying her best to sound upbeat. “Or, well, maybe worry about your planet, but…” She trailed off.

“At least do not worry about what we think of you,” Orli offered, giving him a tentative smile. “I believe that everyone here knows the truth of you.”

Tor’laen tried to give her a smile back, but it seemed like the muscles in his face weren’t quite up to the task, and it came out more like a grimace.

“The situation continues to evolve by the hour.” Zikara’s voice caught her sister’s attention again. “Let us hold a briefing when you arrive.”

“Yes, let us do so,” Nalyra replied, trying to focus back on her twin, pulling her attention away from her consort.

“I will inform Jalari of your coming arrival.” Zikara hesitated for a moment. “Keep your spirits up, Tor’laen. Nothing that cannot be undone has occurred. Not yet.”

He gave her a grateful nod, then turned away from the holograms. He moved back to his place next to Nalyra, his movements uncertain. Nalyra caught his gaze.

“Retire to our cabin, Tor’laen,” she said quietly, low enough that others could not hear. “I will handle things here.”

He gazed into her eyes. She could feel his emotions shake, teetering as if at the edge of a chasm.

“Yes, Crown Daughter.”

Nalyra followed him with her eyes, noting the slouch in his shoulders as he moved to the stairway at the back of the dais. Without a whisper, he disappeared into the High Deck.