Oh, he’s rude to everyone, […]. It’s what makes him so damn sexy.
(Cassandra Clare, City of Bones)
New Xanadu, coordinates 000.000/000.000/000.000
June 25th, 666 GE
Volker Chang stepped out of the elevator into Princess Virginia’s residence. She was hosting one of her usual, interminable parties — something that happened at least twice a week, unless she was cruising the Galaxy or raiding some trendy fashion house.
He ascended the stairs to the vast attic, perched miles above the city. Dozens of guests—of every known species—mingled among extravagant displays of food, drink, and spice.
The crowd was overwhelming, tolerable only for those used to it. People lounged above and below the tables, draped across carpets and sofas. On an antigrav floor, couples danced to the tunes of a small orchestra, itself floating a few meters above ground.
Chang stepped over two feathered, fast-talking creatures as he navigated the room.
Suddenly, the music changed — becoming fast and pulsing. The couples parted on the levitating dance floor to make space for a single dancer. A spotlight locked onto her as the rest of the room faded into darkness.
She wore a shimmering suit — little more than a play of light on her bronzed skin. Her dance was sensual and explicit enough to make even the most jaded guests avert their eyes. Chancellor Chang, instead, found it difficult to look away from her graceful body and flaming red hair.
When the music ended, the crowd erupted in applause.
The dancer leapt from the platform, gently descending to the ground via the antigrav field. A blond, athletic young man greeted her with a vigorous embrace. As the party resumed, Chang stepped closer.
“Great performance, Your Highness.”
The princess turned up her nose, clearly unimpressed.
“Go now, Milo,” she said to the blond. “I’ll see you later.”
She took a silk robe from a nearby droid, never breaking eye contact with Chang.
“Save the flattery, Lord Chang,” she said, blotting her face with a towel. “I know you disapprove.”
“I wouldn’t dare, Your Highness. Who am I but the humblest of your subjects? I understand that for some, having a good time takes precedence over all else.”
“If you’re here to lecture me again about my duties…”
“Not at all. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, you summoned me.”
Virginia stared at him defiantly, letting the robe fall from one shoulder. Barely out of girlhood, she was nonetheless acutely aware of her beauty. Raised to rule the Galaxy, she’d had no choice but to get a higher education. Yet, according to her critics, she took after neither the Emperor, her father, nor her mother, Empress Himalia.
“You’re right. I wanted to talk. I’ve heard your administration is refusing to raise my allowance.”
“An already generous allowance, Your Highness. Not to mention the recent purchase of a new Imperial Yacht, and the full renovation of your summer palace.”
“So what? Is the heir to the throne supposed to live like a pauper? Don’t tell me I can’t afford a proper spaceship for state visits!”
“Of course you can. But in the last semester, you’ve made, what, four or five appearances? None of them off-world, and none lasting longer than a few days. Your behavior is raising concerns. Some question whether you’re truly fit to rule the Galaxy.”
“Aha! There it is — the sermon!” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t trust you, Lord Chang. And neither did my father, in the end. He told me there was a conspiracy…”
“Nonsense,” the Chancellor snapped. “Those idiots in Intelligence couldn’t find a conspiracy if it jumped up and bit them on the ass.”
“Oh, really? I don’t think it’s nonsense at all. Watch your step, Lord Chang. In three months, I will become Empress, with full security clearance. If I find even a hint of a cover-up…”
“I would advise caution with threats, Your Highness,” Chang interrupted coldly. “You’re more isolated than you realize. The Senate thinks you are incompetent. As for the people—” he glanced at the oblivious guests still laughing and drinking, “ — they’re nothing but parasites.”
“Better them than a slimy bastard like you.”
Chang bowed slightly.
“With your permission, Highness, I’ll take my leave. I have real work to do. Goodbye… and take care. In three months, a lot can happen.”
Hyperspace, coordinates ******/******/******
June 25th, 666 GE
Kyle jolted awake from a nightmare, drenched in sweat. Judging by the red digits glowing on his bedside display, it was already late morning. Not that it made much difference in hyperspace — the line between day and night was purely academic.
He’d been asleep for about twelve hours.
For a few moments, he lay still, eyes closed, trying to recall fragments of the dream. He’d always been a vivid dreamer. As a teen, he had even dabbled in lucid dreaming — shaping his dreams like stories, choosing their settings like a director picking locations. Later, he’d tried to sharpen that ability with alcohol and drugs, but the results were hollow. Synthetic dreams had no soul.
Kyle craved dreams of substance. He needed them to escape his dismal reality. To wake up feeling something other than empty.
But that rarely happened.
He sat up, rubbing his sore neck. The amulet still hung around it.
His right wrist throbbed. Badly.
Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled into the bathroom. A hot shower helped clear the fog in his brain, and as he shaved, a memory surfaced—Shirl.
Shortly after takeoff, she’d collapsed asleep. He’d had to strip off her soaked clothes and tuck her into bed. Now freshly shaved and vaguely presentable, he passed her cabin on the way back.
Empty.
“Early riser…” he muttered.
Oddly, Wolfram was missing too. The cat usually badgered him for breakfast the moment he stirred.
Puzzled, Kyle made his way to the cockpit. It was empty. Routine took over — he checked the nav systems. All green.
Then he heard voices coming from the dayroom.
“…HE’S MOSTLY HARMLESS, EVEN THOUGH…”
“What?”
“WELL, HE WENT THROUGH A LOT OF TROUBLE.”
“Go on, please… What kind of trouble?”
“IT ALL STARTED WHEN THE POLICE SEIZED OUR SHIP. THEN THAT SHIFTY GUY REFUSED TO PAY US. WE COULDN’T LAND ANOTHER GIG, SO WE GOT STUCK ON DABIH MAJOR.”
“Oh. Is that all?”
“DON’T YOU THINK THAT’S ENOUGH? ANYWAY, I DON’T THINK HE EVER GOT OVER LEAVING THE SPACE FORCES.”
“Really?”
Kyle scowled. That damn ship was gossiping about him again. He stormed into the wardroom — then froze.
The room had been transformed. Where there had been chaos, dust, dirty plates, and half-eaten food, now everything gleamed. The floor was spotless, the table and counters wiped down, trash gone.
But the most astonishing change was her.
Shirl.
Perched on a stool with Wolfram in her lap, she looked like a different person.
“GOOD MORNING, CAPTAIN! YOU’RE UP EARLY!”
She smiled and stood, still holding the cat.
“Hello! I made breakfast if you’d like some.”
Kyle stared at her, speechless. Her bright blue eyes locked with his. Her skin looked fresh and radiant; the exhaustion from before had vanished. A downy layer of red hair was beginning to grow on her scalp. She wore oversized clothes that made her look childlike, yet Kyle felt something unexpected stir inside him.
It was the first time since Weema he’d felt such an intense, sudden attraction to someone. He could hear his heart pounding.
The feeling twisted quickly into discomfort — then into anger.
“Who told you to clean up?” he snapped.
“I… I thought…”
“I don’t care what you thought. While you’re aboard, don’t touch anything unless I say so!”
Her eyes filled with tears as she gently set Wolfram down.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to offend. I just… woke up early and thought I might be… helpful.”
“Well, don’t. I happen to like the mess. Ever think of that?”
“Right. How stupid of me.”
Guilt crept in immediately. But he couldn’t afford to drop his guard.
He turned to the ship.
“And as for you—if I catch you gossiping again…”
“And as for you—if I catch you gossiping again…”
“THAT WON’T HAPPEN, CAPTAIN!”
“…I’ll disable voice commands and hand-pilot us all the way to New Xanadu!”
“OH NO, CAPTAIN!”
“You’ve been warned.”
Without another word, Kyle turned and stormed back to the bridge, leaving the breakfast — and the confusion — behind.
Hyperspace, coordinates ******/******/******
June 28th, 666 GE
Twiglet was finally enjoying life aboard the liner. After years of scraping by, a bit of relaxation didn’t hurt. She took a glass of sparkling fluid from a servodroid’s tray and leaned back on the deckchair. The scenic lounge was bustling with passengers, all devoted to the art of doing nothing, surrounded by a breathtaking sunset.
Of course, it was just a holo-projection. The ship had been drifting through hyperspace for nearly three days, and the real view outside the windows was nothing but milky chaos.
Even Uful’lan seemed to be enjoying himself — a little too much, perhaps. She realized she hadn’t seen him for hours and hoped he hadn’t gotten into trouble.
She set her glass on a side table and returned to their shared quarters. It was nearly suppertime, and she figured Uful’lan would show up soon. Their cabin was on one of the cheaper decks. So cramped the k’rell couldn’t even stand upright, it left Twiglet constantly at risk of being crushed — or worse, decapitated — by the razor-sharp edges of his wings.
She was surprised to find him lying on the floor, staring miserably at the ceiling.
“Hello, Uful’lan! What are you doing down there? I’m getting hungry. How about dinner in a nice restaurant? The arthropods in the vending machine are revolting…”
She trailed off. He wasn’t responding — just lying there, glassy-eyed, lost in thought.
“Uful’lan? Are you okay?”
“Uhm… Thwigleth,” he murmured, his voice nearly unrecognizable. “We have a problem. Buth pleasse, promisse me you’ll keep your themper…”
Twiglet immediately went on high alert. She slapped the door pad, ready to call security.
“It’s the humans again, isn’t it? They followed us!”
“No, Thwigleth. Ith’ss noth thhem, noth thiss thime…”
“Then what?” she asked, baffled. “What happened?”
“Hum… do you remember thhe money chip? The one you gave me…”
“Oh no.” Twiglet felt a knot tightening in her chest.
This wasn’t going to end well.
“What are you saying, Uful’lan?”
“Well… you ssee, I don’th have ith anymore…”
“You lost it?!”
“Not exactly… I mean, I know where ith iss.”
“Then out with it! What happened?”
“I… ahem… I gambled ith.”
“What?!” Twiglet exploded. “Have you completely lost your mind? We’re not even halfway to the Halo, and that chip was supposed to cover the rest of the trip! I trusted you — and you gambled it away?!”
“It wasn’th really gambling!” Uful’lan protested, eyes gleaming behind his thick lenses. “I’m noth thhat crazy! Thhosse guyss couldn’th even play. I kepth winning for hourss!”
“But then you lost,” she snapped.
Uful’lan looked away, ashamed.
“I don’th know why. I’m good at kryple. I wass doing well, sso I raissed the sstakes…”
“And just like that, your luck ran out. Am I right?”
“Righth. How’d you know?”
Twiglet unrolled her tongue in frustration and collapsed onto the lone bed. Chewing him out wouldn’t help now.
“Are you angry at me, Thwigleth?”
“Bah…” she grumbled. “Do you have anything left?”
She started rummaging through her pockets. With Uful’lan’s help, they scrounged up fourteen and a half credits.
“This’ll have to do,” she said. “For now. Where did you meet those players?”
“C bridge lounge bar. Buth… whath abouth ssupper?”
“Later,” she said, already heading for the door. “First, I’ve got cards to play.”
New Xanadu, coordinates 000.000/000.000/000.000
June 25th, 666 GE
Volker Chang retreated to his private study. Late afternoon shadows stretched long across the cityscape, and although the Galaxy hadn’t yet risen, the sky already blazed with the reflection of a million artificial lights.
He retrieved a bottle of Meshèm wine from a small cupboard and poured himself a generous glass. He desperately needed to calm down.
When that brat had threatened him, it had taken all his restraint not to rip her throat out — an impulse best avoided, especially in front of so many witnesses.
He tapped a hidden control. A trapdoor hissed open, and a hoist rose silently from the floor.
“Did you manage to locate Bai?” Chang growled.
The droid, Bathinn, gleamed with its usual air of anxious efficiency.
“Regrettably not, Your Excellency. The Minister’s datapad is offline. However, we did receive a transmission from Dabih Major. The synth has been sighted—”
“Then why the hell haven’t they captured her?” the Chancellor roared.
“There was… a severe storm interfering with the operation,” the droid stammered.
Chang narrowed his eyes. “So?”
“And… they’ve had to proceed cautiously. Drawing attention could be… unwise. Which means, Your Excellency, that they may have—ah—temporarily lost her.”
“What?!”
The droid flinched, its metallic shoulders hunching pathetically, as if it could shrink into itself.
“Y-yes, well… the situation is under control! The weather is so extreme, the spaceport’s been shut down for days. She has nowhere to go. They’ll retrieve her the moment—”
Chang let out a low, guttural growl that silenced the droid at once.
“Another wasted month,” he muttered. “Someone will pay for this.”
He downed the wine in a single gulp.
The Grand Plan would take a serious hit if the exchange didn’t happen before the coronation. The chain of events — centuries of manipulation, hidden councils, and quiet assassinations — might be too vast to derail entirely. But at this stage, even a minor disruption could delay the Coming.
The Coming of the Zha’nkhaij.
The Son of the Night.
The one the Apostles had awaited for millennia.
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