Evelithria’s claws extended, her instincts screaming at her to flay him alive. To remind him why his species existed. To paint the walls with his insolence.

  She stepped forward, ready to strike, to tear out his throat—

  Bradberry yawned.

  Why the fuck wasn’t he scared of her?!

  The ex-Admiral scanned the wolf’s mind. It was full of devotion for his mistress and… There was a tiny magitek, spider-unit camera, blinking with a trio of red lights from his hexasuit's pocket.

  You are a butcher, Ixthia’s words echoed in her mind. I am a goddess.

  This smelled like another setup.

  If she killed the wolf here, in a hallway, over a minor slight, she would only prove Ixthia right and never get her kobolds back! She would be portrayed as a mad, unthinking beast lashing out because she had lost control. Ixthia would laugh. The other Legates would nod knowingly. See? they would say. She is a mad failure. She deserved her demotion.

  Evelithria froze, her hand trembling inches from the wolf’s throat.

  Bradberry didn't flinch. He didn't even stop picking his teeth. He looked at her with bored eyes.

  Inside Bradberry’s head, he wasn't seeing a furious Wendigo. He was remembering his previous job, from another life. He was remembering the crushing boredom of standing outside the McPaws restaurant at a Superstore in Ferguson, handing out promotional flyers.

  . . .

  “Two for one,” memory-Brad droned. “Check it out. Two burgers for the price of one with this coupon.”

  Humans and prads walked past him, ignoring him. It was drizzling slightly. His vest was soggy. A prad husky girl suddenly flashed towards the wolf. “Hi Brad! Are you giving out flyers? Do you want me to take all of your fliers? Alec and I can turn them into paper planes and launch ‘em into Ferguson Quarry!”

  Brad sighed. “Nah. My manager is watching through that there cam. As much as I'd like to, I cannot give you all of the fliers.”

  “Mmmm… I have doubts,” the husky tilted her black and white head to the side, sniffing the air. “She probably lied to keep you in line. Smells like lies. Ain't nobody is watching you.”

  “Nessy,” Brad said. “Go be annoying somewhere else. I really don’t have the energy for you.”

  “Okkay, fine, let's pretend that your manager is watching you soooooper diligently! That camera has a resolution of like ten pixels, dude. I could, like… Do a hundred laps around the building, come back with a paper moustache crafted from a flyer? And then a paper beard? And a paper bowtie? And a paper vest…”

  “Nessy, for Slayer’s sake, please let me be,” Brad yawned. “You can have ONE flyer. That’s it. Do not circle the Superstore!”

  “Booo,” the husky girl huffed. “That’s it! I’m cursing you with ‘manual breathing’ for your unfriendly attitude!”

  Brad rolled his eyes at her, mentally dismissing the black and white prad.

  . . .

  Evelithria dove out of his head, realizing that she was just another annoying customer to him. Just another… Nessy.

  She truly had no power here… couldn’t hurt him. Not truly. Not in a way that mattered. This interaction was nothing compared to the ecstatic highs Ixthia gave him. If Brad died today by her hand, he would be greatly compensated, given an Estate on earth filled with a harem of human girls willing to service him daily.

  Brad wanted, desired Evelithria to attack him!

  "Well?" Brad asked, shifting from one foot to another. "You want a room or not, Legate? ‘Cus, I got orders to put you in Guest Quarters C."

  Evelithria lowered her hand, shaking with the effort to suppress her rage. "Show me," she hissed out, the words tasting like ashes.

  "Right this way."

  He turned his back on her—his back!—and sauntered down the hall. Evelithria followed, burning with increasing humiliation with every step.

  They walked for ten minutes, descending deeper into the ship, past the officer decks, past the armory, down into the sections usually reserved for junior staff and kobold barracks.

  "Here we are," Bradberry stopped in front of a narrow celesteel door. He tapped the panel. "Guest Quarters C. Room 9972"

  The door hissed open.

  Evelithria stared.

  It was a box. A literal metal box. There was a bunk bed bolted to the wall. A small, sad-looking waste disposal unit. A desk that looked like it had been gnawed on. A sink. A basic toilet.

  And the smell.

  It reeked of musk. Of unwashed fur. Of fox.

  "A fox bold lived here," Evelithria ground out.

  "Yeah, Scrutimancer Ipymmr," Brad nodded. “She’s down on the planet along with the rest of 881, staying in Seeker Alpha, looking for magic power gloves, or vamps, or whatever else.”

  "This is a kobold kennel!"

  "It's… Cozy and minimalist." Brad shrugged. "Look, mam, do you want it or not? Because there’s other, smaller, less clean options I can offer for you to rent."

  “RENT?! Less clean?!” Evelithria’s eye twitched. She wanted to strike the kobold dead so badly.

  Brad yawned again, amused by her bubbling rage.

  The ex-Admiral stepped inside the cramped room, feeling like she was walking into her own coffin. "Leave me."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "You got it, Legate. Oh, dinner service is at 1800. Ah, right… sorry, you missed it. Vending machines and showers are at the end of the hall. Use your V-ring if you want some chips or a wash."

  The door slid shut, sealing her in with the suffocating smell of fox and throbbing, aching, new limbs that felt like they didn't belong to her.

  Evelithria stood in the center of the room, feathered tail thrashing left and right. She kicked the metal desk. It didn't break; her new foot just throbbed with pain. She screamed, and her croaking voice bounced off the close walls and mocked her.

  She sat on the bunk. The mattress was thin foam.

  Think, she commanded herself, struggling to mentally stay above the ocean of despair. Think, Evely... You are not defeated. You can claw your way back. Use every resource. Crush them all.

  She needed assets. She needed intel. She needed someone who wasn't actively trying to undermine her, or trying to get killed by her hand to get a harem of filthy humans. She needed inspiration, a calming voice in the darkness. The answer came to her after a few minutes of contemplation.

  Nexxali. Her most effective, trusted executioner, one with a record of absolute obedience and perfect problem solving skills. The utterly devoted serval girl who could solve any planetary problem with her voice and her railgun not connected to the Weapon-Net. A top Marshall, her cleaner, not monitored by anyone. The one Kobold who could still obey her, if simply asked to 'clean up' a problem.

  Evelithria swept her Astral hooks over the room looking for listening artifacts and spy runes. There weren't any. She then licked the V-ring, claiming it fully as her artifact, obliterating any possible spy runes within.

  "Cast Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim," she ordered. "Priority One encryption."

  Static hissed. Then, a connection.

  "Admiral?!" Nexxali’s voice burst through. "Oh, thank the Slayer! You're alive!"

  There was no visual, only sound.

  "Marshal!" Evelithria barked, clutching at this one remaining, trusted lifeline. "Where are you? Report!"

  "I'm... kzzztzzzzzhhh... and alive-ish!" Nexxali yelled.

  It sounded like static was interfering with the transmission. Probably the damned memetics still not fully purged from the network. “Only… kzzzhhh… slightly banged up.”

  Evelithria breathed out, struggling to stay calm, claws digging into the shoddy mattress smelling of fox. "What the fuck happened in the Temple?"

  “Horrific, no good, terrible... khhhzhhhh... things!” Nexxali cried out dramatically. “What did the Keeper tell you? Surely you've spoken to her!”

  “Nothing of value,” the ex-Admiral snarled. “She ranted of… a liminal tree and orange flames and five Dagaz… fingers and infinity.”

  “I see. Welp, that sounds like Morrigan alright. Always spouting utterly eldritch nonsense. Staring at the abyss too long doesn't lead to sanity. Always a cryptic cunt as ever,” Nexxali agreed. "Oh! I bet she and the Legates orchestrated the whole uprising thing with the Emperor! I saw the Emperor and Keeper... kzzzt... whispering to each other! The cheeky human wasn’t dead. That is to say, there’s no way he’s a mundane human. He was totally dead but also, he was alive! How? No idea! I was going to see what they were whispering about… but I got bonked with something on the back of my head! It was likely one of the temple guards turning against us! The Emperor or the Keeper must have taken control of their feeble minds or paid them off!”

  Evelithria’s heart thrummed at the confirmation of her suspicions. "I knew it! I knew Morrígan was compromised!"

  "Totally compromised, I bet! That crazy beerch practically offered him tea!" Nexxali shouted over the hiss of static. "Listen, Admiral—wait, are you still Admiral? The comms chatter out here in the debris field is wild. I'm hearing rumors about... kzzzt... a demotion? Please tell me it's a lie! Tell me I'm still serving the glorious Admiral Evelithria!"

  Evelithria flinched, the humiliation stinging fresh. "It... is a temporary political setback, Marshal. A misunderstanding by the Legate Council. They have panicked."

  "Panicked? Those spineless jellyfish!" Nexxali roared with righteous indignation. "How dare they! After everything incredible you've done! After we conquered so many planets together! I am outraged on your behalf! I am currently giving the middle finger to a piece of debris that looks like Legate Ixthia just to express my anger! Take that, you dastardly bureaucrat!"

  Evelithria felt a warmth bloom in her chest. Finally. Loyalty. Actual, tangible loyalty. "Marshal, report your status. Where are you?"

  "I'm... zzzzzhhhkkk... floating! In my hexasuit! Somewhere near the Moon!" Nexxali yelled. "I'm drifting blind! Still got like twenty hours of oxygen but I’m runnin' low on... snacks!” The serval laughed jovially, sounding somewhat strained. “Never mind me, my Lady! I’ll get picked up sooner or later by someone, I bet. My emergency beacon’s on. N’ways, what is the strategic play? How are we striking back? Surely you have a plan to crush these traitors? Where are you at?"

  "I am currently... reassessing the situation," Evelithria said, pacing the small room, half crouched so that her antlers wouldn’t scrape the low ceiling. "I am on The Abyssal Sorrow."

  "Sillicia’s ship? That brown-noser tryhard?" Nexxali scoffed. "Ugh. She probably loves that you're demoted. She's always wanted your spot on the letterhead. But tell me, My Lady—who is commanding the fleet if they stripped you? Surely not Ixthia? Surely that knobfold’s too busy molesting her staff and planning her Pleasure Planet Paradise Hotel chain to run the fleet!"

  "It's worse," Evelithria spat, eager to vent to her one remaining confidante. "They've called in the Sixth Fleet to present our good side to Omnithornia. Admiral Colette was... temporarily given my position."

  "The... kzzzt... Greens?" Nexxali sounded horrified. "The Gardeners?! Oh, My Lady, that is insulting! They're going to come in here with their Terraforming bees and their 'peaceful subjugation' nonsense? They'll turn the whole planet into a greenhouse and bore us all to death with their unending criticism of UwUs!"

  "Exactly!" Evelithria cried out. "It is a farce! Colette will try to seduce the humans with addictive bio-luminescent flowers and fruit baskets! It will take far too long! We need to get my niece back! We need to locate the Shipyard Keys!"

  "Disgusting," Nexxali agreed. "Soft power. Weak. Not like your glorious, celesteel-fisted approach. So, when does Colette arrive?"

  "She's already in orbit along with an Omnithornian Oversight warship," Evelithria revealed.

  “Ugh,” Nexxali voiced. "Stupid lame greens. And what about the Emperor? Is the fleet tracking him? Please tell me we're hunting him down, because once I get picked up, I’m totally going to assassinate him again! This time, I won’t be fooled by his immortality voodoo! I’ll back his soul on a Lazarus bracelet and throw his body into a volcano!"

  "We can't track him!" Evelithria kicked the table again. "The crash site is a data-void! The network is in disarray! And the Legates voted for Colette to manage things! They are letting him get away with it, Nexxali! They are letting a primitive mock us! Mock me!"

  "Unbelievable!" Nexxali shouted. "If I wasn't currently floating in space surrounded by... whoosh... angry space-ghosts, I would get down there, find him and bite his face off myself! Wait... My Lady, did you manage to save any of the access codes? If Colette is coming, surely you kept some leverage for yourself? Something to get those backstabbing bastards?"

  Evelithria hesitated. "I... no. Everything is gone. My hoard is gone. This is a blank V-ring with minimal access. They took away my kobolds... My commanders."

  "What will you do?"

  "Hrmmmm. I still have my businesses in Omnithornia and North Acadia... Now that an Omnid warship is here, I can use them to..."

  “To do what, my Lady?”

  “I...” The ex-Admiral chewed on her lip. “I’m… going to call Homeworld and hire the best mercenary I know. Ask her to gate here and track the Emperor and Princess down.”

  “Who?”

  “Hunter Nictavia,” Evelithria said.

  “Oh? Is she any good? Better than me? 'Cus I won't fail again, against that tricksy, magic human!”

  “Nikky is the best,” Evelithria said. “Got her own private cruiser, scruts and weapons. She’s… very expensive. But this is now personal. I'm willing to spend a few hundred million O-Bux for this job… Oh, yessss…”

  “Yeah? What’s her Omnitype? Can she be trusted? Have you worked with her before?”

  “A Krampus,” the ex-Admiral revealed. “Yes. She… permanently took out the agents of a competing Omnicorp that was trying to muscle in on my businesses in Omnithornia.”

  “Permanently?! Kzzzz… How?! What, like beyond Incarnation?! What kind of weapons can do that sort of a thing?”

  “Experimental Stabalist Weapons. Dimensionally-entwined guns,” the Admiral said. “Concept rewriters, linked to our most sacred belief. Once her nine reindeer locate the Emperor, the naughty Princess, their minions and Third Fleet traitors… it'll be the end for them, and a Merry See-Mass for me. He he he he.”