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“And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?” – William Butler Yeats, “The Second Coming”
DELTA PAVLONIS STAR SYSTEM, 23.05.13076 R.P.
“What have you to report, my children?” He spoke coldly, not because he was angry, but because he knew no other way to speak. There was no need for emotion, because he had none. No need for emphasis or nuance, because he had no interest in those things. No need to cajole or threaten, because disobedience was unthinkable. He was merely a vessel, a voice for a Higher Power, an avatar of the Great Prime that filled the Universe and looked out through ten million eyes and heard through ten million ears. He was the supreme Viceroy and Lieutenant of the Galactic Horde on this planet, the unquestioned master of every living soul within ten parsecs.
And today, he was monitoring crop yields and mining outputs.
“The harvest of yellowroot and sorghum has surpassed our quotas, O Lord Prime” intoned one of the village elders trembling at his feet. A dozen of them filled the gleaming silver hall, the men and women and neuters who actually managed most of the colony’s administration and oversaw its government. “It brings me great shame to report that the starfruit harvest was afflicted by blight, and has not recovered yet….” on and on they droned, a ceaseless litany of statistics and reports about harvests and equipment malfunctions and mineral veins. He absorbed the information, like he absorbed everything he was told, adding new knowledge to the great over-mind that ruled the Universe. Prime knows all, Prime sees all. Some thought that was mere superstition, but it was a simple statement of fact.
“We have readied 250,000 tons of titanium, trilithium, and moronite for immediate export, as well as 5,000 tons of rare earths and elemental silver, and the mines on North Salaspar continue to prosper…..” He was aware, intellectually, that the Eternal Empire was facing some……unpleasantness, right now. That across the Universe, tens of thousands of his brothers were engaged in combat against traitors and insurgents, as the ungrateful multitude rose against the benevolent oversight of Horde Prime. A man might have been concerned, or ashamed of his own assignment’s relative lack of importance. But he was not a man, he was clone. A reflection of a Greater Whole, a fragment of the Many That Was One. He followed his orders because it never occurred to him not to.
“The receipts from trade tariffs are down 15% from last quarter, given the disruptions in interplanetary trade. We have attempted to compensate, O Lord Prime, by cutting costs in all departments and enacting a policy of……” There was a scream then, a howling roar of pain and rage and terror that hammered into his skull like a pile-driver. He gasped, arms reaching his head, and then—
—everything seemed to streeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetch—
—he saw a woman, arrayed in gold and white, eyes blazing with sacred fire, arms reaching for him—
—and then it snapped back into place—
And he was lying on the cold floor of the audience chamber. He’d never noticed how cold the chrome floor was before, and he distantly wondered how the emissaries could stand it. His head felt……empty? Like there was something missing, some vast echoing void, but he couldn’t pay attention to it, because of the chorus of voices springing up to take its place. He was hungry, not in need of amniotic nutritional fluid for replenishment, but hungry. He wondered what yellowroot tasted like. It was Pavlonis XII’s largest export, and he had catalogued the harvest of millions and millions of tons of it over the years, but he’d never tasted it. It was so bright in here, the arc lamps reflecting off the walls and floor. His eyes hurt. He pulled himself to his feet, and took a step, and the world lurched underneath him, spinning away. He persevered, and pulled himself to the window, watery eyes blinking in the sunlight.
On the floor, the functionaries shivered and did their best to not draw any attention to themselves. Most of them had been representing their villages and clans in the Ritual of the Report for decades, and most of them had taken over for their parents, who’d replaced their grandparents, and so on and so forth, all the way back to the colony’s Founding. The affair was choregraphed precisely and perfectly, and twice a year, it went forward like clockwork. There was, however, no provision in any of the Canticles or Liturgies to explain how to respond to the Voice of Prime screaming, falling on his face, having a seizure, and then wandering over to a window and staring off into space. Finally, one of the delegates—bolder, younger than his fellows—rose to his feet and cautiously approached the Viceroy.
“My Lord Prime, are you—do you require anything of us? My Lord?” There was no answer, the clone simply staring out the window. Curiously, the envoy peered over his shoulder, trying to understand what had enraptured him. But there was nothing outside but the ceremonial gardens, rows upon rows of flowering plants and flowing streams, shaped to signify the supremacy of the Galactic Horde. The Voice was staring at it with a strange expression. Suddenly, he turned around. The young man dropped to his knees and abased himself,
“I don’t……I don’t know? I don’t know.” He spoke the word like he was tasting a new fruit for the first time. Then he smiled. His face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, he said “But I think……I think I would like to work in the garden.”
GALACTIC HORDE STATION AUDITOR-723, HELLSPONT NEBULA, 23.05.13076 R.P.
“Huh, that’s funny……”
Deputy Supervisor Amran always remembered that as the moment the world ended. He’d been patrolling the central transmission hub as usual, tail swinging back and forth as he paced past the endless corridors of cubicles, hundreds of technicians monitoring and connecting the communications grid that wove together the Empire of the Galactic Horde. A soft chatter filled the air, the routine hum of signals decryption and re-entanglement, of broadband allocation and troubleshooting. He dropped down off the walkway and peered over Technician First Class Lorca’s shoulder.
“What seems to be the problem?” he asked. The specialist tapped a few keys on his console and frowned.
“My connection to the Velvet Glove just cut off. Can’t get it back.” Amran frowned too. That wasn’t good. The link to Horde Prime’s flagship was the conduit through which all of their orders and information ultimately flowed.
“Has there been a malfunction on the transmitter dishes again?” he asked, reaching over to input a few routine command overrides into the system. “Or another solar storm?”
“Nope, checked that first thing. Ion flux density is below ten picometers per light-year, diagnostics read clear. The channel just went dead.”
“Hey, boss!” Another technician jogged down the aisle, waving to get Amran’s attention. “We’re trying to relay the Yeltsin Quadrant’s annual reports, but our channel to the V.G. just went down? Any idea what’s happening?” Amran opened his mouth to respond when his earpiece buzzed. With a scowl, he accepted the call.
“Yes?” he snapped.
“This is Kouseth, Epsilon shift. Half our channels just went into emergency shutdown, and the datafeed’s have snowcrashed. What’s going on out there?” Amran was starting to have a very bad feeling about this.
“What channels?” he asked slowly. “Just random?”
“Nope” responded his fellow Deputy Supervisor. “Every command linkage and priority override. Local connections are still reporting green.” Amran whistled, long and low.
“Alright Ko, give me a moment” he said. He leaned down, and punched an access code to the main intercom. “Tech Support, this is Deputy Supervisor Amran, priority one override. Can you get me an access ping to the Velvet Glove? We’re having some difficulty up here.”
“Um, sorry, but you’re gonna have to wait on that” came the reply. “There’s some kind of malfunction in the transmission grid or something, but our command codes are just bouncing. You’re all gonna have to hold on ‘till we can chase this down.”
“’You’re all’?” pressed Amran. “It’s not just me?” There was a snort over the com line.
“Buddy, you’re the fifth Supervisor to call me in the last ten minutes. Give us some damn time.” The line clicked dead.
“Sir? Everything alright?” asked Lorca, who was starting to look very concerned. He wavered for a moment, caught between the urge to appear omniscient to his subordinates and the sinking feeling, deep in his stomach, that there was something very, very wrong. Finally, he fell back on the natural response of any cornered bureaucrat.
“I think……I think we need to report this to the Director” he said at last.
“Is he…….is he dead?” whispered General Director Ajra, the leathery folds of his skin looking even paler than usual. His hands trembled on the tabletop as he blinked rheumy eyes at Security Director Tor, who shrugged.
“I don’t think so sir. He’s breathing anyways. But he’s totally catatonic. We can’t wake him up.” Several people winced at that.
“You tried?” asked Ajra, clearly aghast at the idea of laying hands on a Voice of Prime. Tor looked unabashed.
“This is an emergency sir, and we need guidance. We can’t contact Command, and every security bot on this station has gone into shutdown. Without the Voice, we’re on our own.” It had been over an hour now, since Amran had first realized that something was wrong, and all hope of it being a minor malfunction had long since vanished. Every command link to the Velvet Globe was dead. Every backup link to a Quadrant Command Center was dead or spewing garbage data. Diagnostics were coming up clean, hardware was undamaged, transluminal conditions were fine. It was like the transmitter just……wasn’t there anymore. Local feeds were still active, but the confusion was starting to mount as it became more and more clear to nearby planets that there was a communications delay. And it was up to them to fix it.
“Well then” said Kouseth. “If the Voice can’t guide us, what do we do now?” Her voice was clipped and guarded, and her eyes were wary.
“Yes, yes, we must proceed apace” said Ajra. “What does the Standard Operating Procedure call for in a case such as this?”
“It doesn’t” said Tor bluntly. Unlike the rest of the command staff, he seemed almost exhilarated by the crisis. His sallow cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright. “There’s no provision for what to do when we lose all contact with Lord Prime’s representatives. Aren’t you listening? We’re on our own.”
“We could standby, wait for further orders?” ventured another supervisor, staring fixedly at the table. “I mean, we wouldn’t want to do anything rash….” Kouseth shook her head.
“We’ve got a whole sector of planets out there demanding orders. The longer we leave them waiting, the worse the situation will get. And it’s not like things were exactly calm before this.”
“We could convene a Special Committee?” suggested the General Director hopefully. Several supervisors rolled their eyes. Tor sniffed.
“I don’t believe we have time for that sir. We need action.”
“What do you suggest then?” asked Amran, all of a sudden tired by this whole charade. “It sounds like you have a suggestion.” Tor smiled tightly.
“I do indeed” he said with a small bow. Turning to the Technical Director he demanded “Can we reboot the security bots on a purely local network?”
“Umm” replied Shymrah, scratching one of their cranial ridges. “I don’t see why not?” Tor nodded.
“Good. Get started on that right away, top priority.” Turning back to the room at large he continued “My plan is simple: Restore order on this station. Put out a relay signal to any other Horde units in the quadrant. Gather what forces we can. Maintain order in the sector until Lord Prime can restore contact with us.” There was a moment of silence, several managers staring the Security Director. Ajra coughed.
“My……that’s, ah, that’s a little outside our purview, don’t you think Tor?” He shrugged, tapping his holstered sidearm pointedly.
“Desperate times sir. We have a responsibility as servants of Lord Prime to uphold His rule in His absence.” The old Director seemed to shrink in his chair under the Security chief’s stare. “Now, if there are no more objections….?”
“What if He’s not coming back?” Kouseth spoke quietly, but firmly, her voice echoing in the conference room. Tor glowered at her.
“What?” he snapped.
“Prime” she elaborated. “What if He’s just dead?” Someone in the room gasped. Tor hissed.
“Given the circumstances, I will pretend I didn’t hear that” he said.
“Oh come on!” She looked around the room. “Are we just going to pretend that we’re not all wondering the same thing? Every channel to the Velvet Glove went down at once. That’s consistent with the station being destroyed. Our precious Voice is sitting there a puppet with a cut string. And we’ve all heard these ‘She-Ra’ rumors going around and—”
“Enough!” shouted Tor. “Deputy Supervisor, you are under arrest, on charges of sedition and treason. Confine yourself to your quarters immediately—"
“Treason against what?” she asked. “There’s no one out there! You said it yourself: ‘we’re on our own’. The Horde is gone!”
“The Horde will never be gone” snapped Tor. “Not as long as I stand here.” His hand had moved to his sidearm, and he strode around the table towards the rebellious Supervisor.
“Ok” she said.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Amran seemed to see everything at once. Tor’s body, slumping to the floor. Yellow blood splattering across the tabletop. Kouseth standing, a crude machine-pistol in her hand. It looked like it’d been cobbled together out of spare parts by an industrial fabricator, an absent part of his mind noted. It probably had been. Several people lurched out of their chairs, and her gun swiveled to cover them.
“Sit down” she said quietly. They sat. Director Ajra was nearly hyperventilating. Amran felt like he probably should be, but his mind seemed to be caught in a lake of quicksand, still trying to catch up with the rest of the world. Supervisor Kouseth sat down too, placing her pistol on the table with a clink. “We’re not going back” she said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but we’re not going back.”
GAL’DO’SHA’NE STAR SYSTEM, 23.05.13076 R.P.
“Five hundred thousand klicks and closing, entering engagement range in two minutes” murmured Jewelstar. The Galactic Horde fleet loomed larger and larger in the viewscreen as the gunship Stella Nova slid closer. “Stand by for launch.” Then he yelped as someone flopped down on top of his shoulders.
“Uh, we know big brother, we can see the same sensors as you can, remember?” said Tallstar with a smirk. Jewelstar rolled his eye, pushing in vain at his sister’s cyborg arms.
“What are you still doing here?” he grumbled. “Get to your posts!” Starla giggled.
“Oh gosh, sorry sir! Won’t happen again sir!”
“Just go! We’re almost in range!” Laughing, both his sisters scampered down the access corridor behind the cockpit. He could even hear the darn owl hooting in amusement. Despite their frivolity, the status of both gun turrets blinked the green of ‘Full Readiness’ on the control board only seconds later. Shaking his head, Jewelstar toggled the communications switch, activating the LOS com lasers. “All ships, this is Star Leader, thirty seconds to launch, prepare to fire on my mark.”
“Star Leader, this is Star One, ready to go.”
“Star Two, standing by.”
“Star Three, just give the word.”
“Horned Goddess, let’s just go already!” One by one, acknowledgments drifted back from the two dozen or so gunships, fighters, and armed freighters that they’d managed to assemble into a squadron of sorts during the last month or so of fighting. It had been tough, hammering together the disparate collection of resistance fighters, pirates, rebels, and refuges into something vaguely resembling a fighting force. And keeping them under cover in the asteroid belt the last week while the Horde launched its attack had been almost impossible. Jewelstar had been forced to pull rank…...even if that meant exaggerating his actual authority just a little bit. (“I have met the She-Ra! The She-Ra put me in charge! Listen to me, alright?!”) But now at last it was almost time. Six hours ago, they’d pushed off from their hidden anchorages and launched on a slow ballistic course, circling in towards the beleaguered planet. And now it was time to strike.
“Torpedoes away! All ships, fire!” All across the flotilla, magnetic clamps disengaged from the plasma torpedoes the Star Siblings had liberated from a Horde ammunition depot. Cold-jets flaring silently in the vacuum of space, the warheads streaked away, down into the gravity well and towards the Horde task force. The Horde had arrived to restore order to the rebellious planet eight days ago. For eight days, they’d pushed their attack forward, and for that whole time, they’d faced no threat from any spaceborne forces. Slowly but surely, their guard had dropped. Slowly but surely, they’d become complacent. Now they were going to pay for that. “Get ready” he announced. “Prepare to break and fire upon impact. Hold formation until they spot us.” Down the corridor he heard a loud sniff.
“And he used to get mad at us for getting fancy” Starla commented.
“This isn’t fancy!” he shouted. “It’s very simple! It’s as simple as it can be!”
“I don’t know” drawled Tallstar from her own gun-pod. “It’s kind of fancy….”
“No it’s not! Why do I even put up with you guys again?”
“I mean……you sort of have to?” replied Starla. “Unless you’re planning to abandon your little sisters?” She gasped in mock-horror.
“This is why I stopped inviting you to mission briefings” muttered Jewelstar. “You just—" An alarm sounded as the Horde sensors finally locked on to the approaching ships and tried to react. But it was too late. The two massive assault transports had dropped into a low geosynchronous orbit, hanger doors hanging open to admit a steady stream of landers and shuttles ferrying troops and materials to the planet below, carbon-fiber cables winching down command modules and prefabricated structures for the Occupation Force. A screen of other Horde ships were assembled around them, but they were all too deep in the atmosphere to react in time. Even as Jewelstar watched, shields began to spin up, fire-control sensors sweep the sky, and engines pulse to life. Then the torpedoes hit. One of the assault transports exploded, five million tons of titanium and chromite and thulite detonating as the reactors blew apart, raining shrapnel and liquid metal throughout the rest of the fleet. The other one lurched—but survived, shields glowing red-hot under the impact.
“We got the bastards!” somebody screamed over the com net.
“Break! Break! Break!” shouted Jewelstar, punching Stella Nova’s engines and sending the little gunship into an evasive spiral. “Engage targets of opportunity!” The little rebel squadron blew apart, gunships and fighters abandoning their slow, stealthy approach and leaping into the enemy formation, guns blazing. Laser fire and particle beams crisscrossed back and forth, amidst swarms of missiles. Jewelstar felt the Star Siblings’ ship hum as both turrets opened up, and a Horde cruiser came apart under their combined fire, falling back into the atmosphere in a rain of debris.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” screamed Starla, and even Jewelstar felt himself grinning manically at the destruction unfolding around them. After everything—the loss of their family, the destruction of their home, the years spent running and hiding—it just felt so good to fight back. The ship howled a warning as Horde missiles attempted to lock on, and Jewelstar fired a volley of chaff rockets, clouds of foil and jamming confusing their electronic brains.
“Star Five, give me cover, I’m going—”
“Pull up, pull up, there’s too many of them—”
“Scratch one battlecruiser!”
“They’re launching bots! I repeat, carriers are launching bots!” Jewelstar yanked the gunship into a spin, clearing fields of fire for his sisters to blow apart a pair of drones. The com net was going crazy, as rebel ships slashed back and forth, pouring fire into the Horde ships still struggling to pull out of the gravity well. Two Horde supply transports exploded, caught of out formation, and a patrol destroyer snapped in two, its spine broken by a missile impact. A rebel fighter died, then two more, as squadron after squadron of Horde bots launched from hanger bays and dove into the scrum. More missiles hammered into the surviving assault transport, and its shields flickered wildly, but held firm.
“Star Seven, Star Fifteen, Star Three, form up on me!” snapped Jewelstar. “I think that battleship’s the flagship!” Two other gunship and a converted freighter slid into formation around the Star Siblings’ ship, and they dove towards the battleship in question. CIWS cannons swiveled around, spraying laser fire at them, but the nimble ships ducked and wove around it, trying to bring their targeting systems into alignment. All of a sudden, space outside seemed to blaze with light. The engines screamed as something punched though the aft shields, and Jewelstar spun the ship on instinct, maneuvering thrusters pushing it out of the line of fire.
Three Horde escort frigates had finally managed to escape the gravity well, and now their hundreds of anti-starfighter pulse cannons were systemically scrubbing the sky clean of enemies. Star Seven and Star Three were just gone, and even as Jewelstar watched, Star Fifteen took a pair of hits to its dorsal reactor and went dead in space, jettisoning escape pods.
“Take those ships out!” yelled Jewelstar, but it was too late. With the initial shock of the surprise attack worn off, the Horde was now operating with their trademark efficiency, the smooth, flawless motion of one mind in thousands of bodies, coordinating firepower and defensive grids with effortless perfection. Another dozen Horde bots vanished in the next exchange, but every single rebel missile exploded well short of their targets, and three more rebel ships died instantly, cut to pieces by Horde firepower.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday, we’re taking heavy fire—”
“We’re cut off, we can’t escape, we need help—”
“Damn the clone bastards, I’m going in!” Jewelstar closed his eyes, unable to watch as one of his ships collided with a Horde carrier, dying together in a fratricidal blast. In just a few minutes, almost half his force had been wiped away. A sick, bitter feeling in his stomach, he gave the order.
“Star Leader to all ships, break for open space and jump to FTL.” Rebel ships scattered, trying to outrun their pursuers, Horde bots hard on their heels. Even Jewelstar’s sisters were silent now as he took Stella Nova into a long, curving orbit around the blue-green-yellow orb of the planet below, trying to avoid the enemy interceptors trying to nail them. Gunfire took out another pair of drones, and successfully detonated a missile, then the ship lurched as an electromagnetically-accelerated kinetic round slammed into the shields. More Horde bots were swarming towards them as Jewelstar desperately tried to stop the ship’s spinning when—
“What the fuck was that!?” screamed Tallstar.
“Hey! Language!” yelled Starla.
“Sorry, sorry, I mean what the bloody—I mean what the heck just—”
“I don’t know” broke in Jewelstar, brow furrowed in confusion. One of the Horde escort frigates had just delivered an entire broadside bombardment into another one, blasting the second frigate apart. Horde ships didn’t make that kind of mistake, they physically couldn’t, they were driven by robots and clones, a hive mind of silicon and flesh that could calculate any maneuver instantaneously. But even as he watched, Horde bots were colliding with one another, or going dead in space, or just flying off on random trajectories. A cruiser slammed into a carrier, erasing both from existence, as the Horde formation disintegrated into a confused mess. Some of them were still shooting at the rebels, but their fire was uncoordinated and erratic. Some were just…..sitting there in orbit. Some were shooting at each other, or at nothing at all. A patrol destroyer emptied its entire magazine into a nearby asteroid, vaporizing it, while a pair of interceptors lobbed missiles at it. An automated munitions freighter went into emergency shutdown, jettisoning its reactor core for no discernible reason. Cautiously, several rebel ships turned back, probing at the scattered Horde fleet. Then—in a series of blinding flashes, the surviving Horde ships jumped to FTL, leaving the rebels alone in orbit with the debris field.
“What just happened?” whispered Starla. Jewelstar shook his head, trying to process it all. At last he said
“I don’t know but I think….I think we won?”
ALPHA CENTAURI STAR SYSTEM, 23.05.13076 R.P.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” The flares burst in the afternoon sky, high over the Prefectural Palace. Blue, then white, then blue, blazing against the dome of the horizon. From the frontline trenches, Sergeant Kor watched them fall through a pair of binoculars.
“That’s the signal for a truce, right?” asked ‘Citizen General’ Pohan. “Since when does the Horde ask for truces with rebels?”
“They don’t.” said Kor. “But they are. Damned if I can explain it.” He spat on the ground. It wasn’t the most professional report, but given that Kor had been a perigium miner a month ago, Pohan could forgive it. For that matter, Pohan himself had been a junior advertising executive a month ago, when the Rebellion had come to Alpha Centauri, so it wasn’t like he was in a position to judge. He shrugged.
“Might as well see what they have to say then, right? If nothing else, it’ll give us more time to prepare for the assault.”
“Makes sense” said Kor, nodding. Another round of flares shot up from the Palace; blue, white, blue. “Stars, they’re serious about whatever it is.”
“You don’t think it’s a trap?” Kor spat again.
“Might be” he conceded. “But don’t ye worry gen’ral. If the Horde kills ya, we’ll avenge ya.” He grinned a gap-toothed smile, patting the battered projectile rifle leaning against the trench wall.
“How….comforting.”
They met in the No Man’s Land between the lines, the burned-out wreckage that had once been a major municipal park. Now it was a wasteland, caught between the advancing rebels and the Horde defenders who’d ruled this planet until a few weeks ago. Behind him, rebel snipers watched from entrenchments or the ruins of apartment buildings. Ahead, he could see the Prefectural Palace and Ministerial Offices. A month ago, they’d been shining symbols of the omnipotence and omniscience of Horde rule. Now, he could see barricades strung between the colonnaded entrances, and the barrels of plasma cannons and rocket mortars peeking through windows. His contact was waiting just where he’d said he’d be, by the dry pit that had once been a reflecting pond.
“Force Captain Hektor, I presume?” he asked. The Horde commander just grunted. He was a tall, thin man, in the green-and-silver uniform of the Galactic Horde, a blaster scar disfiguring one of his cheeks.
“You smoke?” he said, instead of answering.
“Sure” said Pohan. The Force Captain pulled out a carton, and for a moment, they busied themselves with the familiar production of lighting a pair of cigarettes. “Antaran tobacco” said Pohan appreciatively, taking a puff. “Haven’t been able to get any since the war.”
“My last carton” agreed Hektor. They stood together in companiable silence for a minute. “I think Prime’s dead.” Pohan choked on the smoke, coughing wildly.
“What?” he finally managed to gasp.
“You heard me” said the Force Captain calmly, taking another drag. Pohan shook his head, trying to clear it.
“Is that even….possible?”
“Not supposed to be,” said Hektor. “But every damn clone in there” he nodded at the Horde fortifications “is babbling nonsense or staring at a wall. Half our automated defenses have shut down. And we can’t raise Quadrant Command or Sector HQ on the com lines. You heard anything about this ‘She-Ra’?” Pohan blinked at the rapid change in topic, still trying to wrap his mind around the concept of Horde Prime being…...gone. His brain simply rejected the concept of a Universe without Him, sliding away from it every time he tried to approach it.
“Ah, no” he said. “What is it?” The Force Captain grunted again.
“Nothing official. But rumor, scuttlebutt. You know how it goes. Supposed to be some new God, or maybe some old Goddess. Challenging Prime. Guess she won.” He was smoking with quick, rapid breaths, the glow of his cigarette flaring in the evening light.
“So” said the rebel leader, when it was clear his opponent wasn’t going to elaborate any further. “What do you want?” Hektor glowered at the ground, kicked a piece of rubble.
“Cease-fire” he said at last. “Don’t really see the point of fighting anymore if there’s no more Horde.”
“From what you’ve said, it sounds like we could probably storm the Palace now” pointed out Pohan.
“Probably” said Hektor. He bared his fangs. “But we wouldn’t make it easy for you. No point in getting us all killed for nothing.”
“Can’t argue with that” said Pohan, scratching his head. “I’m not sure I have the authority to agree to this.”
“Authority or ability, Citizen General?” asked the Force Captain. Pohan winced at that. His title had been awarded by the Supreme People’s Council in Karrisburg, which was trying to set itself up as the new central government. He wasn’t sure he approved of them, but they’d supplied him with munitions and supplies, so he hadn’t gone out of his way to repudiate them. But Hektor was right. Most of the rebels in the capitol were from his own Centauri Home Army, and they’d follow his orders whatever happened. The local militia would probably follow their lead. The People’s Army troops would be……more problematic, but there were only a few thousand of those nearby and—he realized he’d been thinking too long. Wouldn’t do to let the Horde realize how flimsy the rebel command structure was. Even if they weren’t exactly the Horde anymore.
“Fine” he said. “I can agree to a temporary cease-fire while I send word up the line and ask for advice. I can’t guarantee how things will work out in the long run.”
“Nobody can.” said Hektor. He pulled off a glove, and held out a clawed hand. Gingerly, Pohan shook it. “But this is good enough for now. Wasn’t particularly happy to be dying for the Horde in the first place, really not interested in dying for it if it’s dead.”
“Why’d you join then?” asked Pohan. The Force Captain shrugged.
“Only game in the Galaxy. Or at least, it was.”
“Fair enough” said Pohan. He finished his cigarette, tossed the butt to the ground and stamped it out. “What’re you gonna do now then?”
“I don’t know” said Hektor quietly, and for the first time, the Force Captain sounded uncertain. “I don’t know.”
ETHERIAN PLANETARY SYSTEM, 01.01.01 N.E.
“Hey—you ok out there?” Adora jumped, startled out of her reverie, and looked up to see Catra padding silently up the hill to join her. Below them the rebel (Were they still rebels now that they’d won? Much to think about) encampment lay silent and asleep, the last of the celebrations petering out hours ago.
“I’m fine” she said, smiling cautiously. She still wasn’t sure where they stood. Catra scowled, and flicked her ears in the way that meant I-know-you’re-lying-and-you-know-I-know-you’re-lying-but-I-won’t-call-you-on-it-right-now. Something pulsed in her heart, an ache of pure gratitude at having Catra back in her life, like a limb gone so long she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. The former Force Captain dropped down next to Adora, leaving a healthy foot or two of space, tail swishing.
“So, what are you looking at then?” she asked. Adora jerked her head upwards at the sky. Stars blazed across the vault of the heavens, a blanket of white and blue and red lights, twinkling like gemstones in the darkness, burning like torches.
“Oh” said Catra. She leaned back on her haunches, looking up. “They’re pretty impressive, I guess.”
“Entrapta says that each one of those little lights is a hydrogen fusion reactor a million times larger than Etheria” said Adora dreamily. “And around each one is a dozen or more planets, and on some of the planets, whole civilizations and peoples and—and worlds, just like ours. And there are billions of stars and millions of planets and trillions of people out there. All just little points of light.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right” said Catra. “Does it bother you?” Adora pouted.
“I dunno, maybe? It’s just so…..so big!” She waved her hand vaguely at the sky. “I can’t wrap my mind around it.”
“Dummy” said Catra, but Adora could hear the smile in her voice. “Of course you can’t. Most people can’t even wrap their minds around one planet, or a town or whatever. Don’t worry about it.”
“What was it like out there?” Catra blinked in confusion.
“What? You were out there too, remember?”
“Well—yeah, technically. But we spent the whole time mostly just running and hiding. You spent months travelling around the Galaxy on Prime’s ship.” Catra winced, and Adora instantly felt like the biggest idiot in the Universe. “I’m sorry!” she said. “Never mind, forget I—”
“It’s ok” broke in Catra. In the dark, Adora felt her take one of her hands. She squeezed it, and felt Catra squeeze back. “It’s just—there’s so much out there. You wouldn’t believe—I’ve seen planets of liquid methane, where it rained sulfur, gas giants exchanging atmospheres though a funnel two hundred thousand kilometers long, rings of dust the size of a solar system, glistening in the sunlight. I’ve watched kinetic bombardment projectiles blasting entire continents into space, I’ve seen moons covered in jungle from pole to pole, and clouds of asteroids thick enough to walk on!” Catra was gesturing animatedly, eyes glinting. “I’ve watched pulsars dance like Princesses at a prom, I’ve seen planets covered in ocean a hundred kilometers deep, and ones where—” She noticed Adora grinning at her, and cut herself off abruptly, flushing, ears flattened.
“It sounds pretty incredible” ventured Adora.
“I guess so” muttered Catra. “Mostly we were just shuttling around, from one battlefield to the next, watching Prime conquering shit. He said it was a ‘great honor’ for us to witness.” Her tail was starting to lash back and forth. Cautiously, Adora laid her head down on her shoulder, waiting for the other girl to shrug her off. Instead, she felt Catra’s tail wrap around her leg, and a deep vibrating purr vibrate through her chest.
“I’d like to see some of that someday” she said softly.
“You probably will” commented Catra. “If Bow gets to do that ridiculous ‘Best Friend Squad Road Trip’ he was babbling about.”
“Will you come with us?” asked Adora quietly.
“Of course I will! Somebody’s gotta keep you idiots out of trouble.” Adora smirked.
“You’re looking forward to it.” Catra bristled.
“Am not!”
“You’re gonna have fun!”
“No I won’t!”
“Admit it!”
“Never!” Adora shoved Catra, and they rolled over each other, laughing, all caution thrown to the winds. They finally came to rest halfway down the hill, arms and legs entangled, staring up again at the blazing stars. Adora drank it all, tried to imagine it, millions of planets, trillions of people, all yoked together under a single intelligence, all serving a single will. She’d understood it, for a cosmic instant that had lasted an Eternity. Had fused herself, body, mind, and soul with the twisted shadow that had once been a man named Horde Prime, and had scoured every trace of Him from the Universe. It all felt like a dream now.
“What do you think is happening out there?” she asked. “Now that Prime’s gone.”
“I don’t know” said Catra softly. Her arm reached up, claws tracing across the constellations. “But we’re going to find out.”