The Dead Dove Locker -- "I don't know what I expected."

[Mamorien]

The Greenfield Family.

With the Greenfields having accepted their new way of life, now it's time to face the future and what comes next for them.

Especially when some pretty big upheavals are coming in their lives. A few unfriendly faces with unsettled grudges are not about to let things lie and are determined to make trouble for this family.

How are they going to handle this? What are they going to do now?

https://storiesonline.net/n/52852/the-gr...-family/47

Princess of the Void.

”The woman plotting our downfall followed the protocol and procedure set before her to the letter.” Sykora hops from her throne. “She trusted in precedent, and when precedent failed she trusted in her sense of fealty and duty to protect her sanity from the unspeakable task that was set before it. But she trusted in vain.”

She paces the table, her tail switching back and forth with each step. Grant watches her and realizes this must be how it felt to kneel in fealty to Joan of Arc or Hatshepsut. He is not sure his wife has ever looked quite so beautiful.

“She murdered millions and broke her own mind into pieces.” Sykora reaches past Waian and plucks the bag of nuts off the table. “Now she sees the servants of the Empress as the same genocidal automata she proved to be. I will show her that the strength of the Taiikari Empire rests not merely in our fealty to Zithra XIX, but in Zithra’s faith in her servants, and the power she has vested into our hands.” She roots around in the bag and produces a handful. “I will demonstrate to her that she did not fail on Malkest because of the Empire, but because of her own weakness.”

“But she followed the Empress’s order.” Vora’s puzzlement is fermenting into unease. None of them have realized quite what Sykora is saying.

“She did,” Grant says, as his wife chews and swallows. “But the Empress ordered her wrong.”

A stunned silence around the command table. Vora breaks it again, her voice high and tight with uncertainty. “That’s… that’s a dangerous thing to say, Majesty.”

“Do you presume Her High Majesty would disagree?” Sykora returns the bag to its place by her paralyzed chief engineer. “Do you think she considers Malkest a victory?”

“No, of course not, but…”

“She has been working for kilocycles now to bring the great bulwark of the Empire into a new era,” Sykora says. “She has done so through deeply unorthodox means. It is time for us to square our shoulders to the great glacier and help her push. I would sooner risk her displeasure at the venture’s onset than bring her despair at its conclusion.”

Waian’s lips are tightly pulled, into the anticipatory beginning of a grin or a grimace. “Kora,” she says. “Grantyde. Kids. What are you saying?”

The Mandate of Maekyon.

“Grantyde and I are moving to cancel the annexation of Maekyon,” Sykora says. “The Black Pike sector will recognize it as a Mandate system and we will stand as its protector until its people integrate fully into the Imperial firmament of their own volition.”

“Gods of the fucking firmament.” Behind the cherry-red frames of her glasses, Vora’s eyes dilate. “You—this—we can’t.”

Sykora takes her heiress’s hand. “We can, Vora. We must be brave. But we can.”

“This is tantamount to treason, Majesty.” Lomanza’s emotionless countenance remains on, but something in her body language makes it clear how threadbare the mask is becoming. “By many metrics it is indivisible from treason. Our duty is to annex Maekyon.”

“Our duty is to turn Maekyon imperial, and we will,” Grant says. “Eventually. But we aren’t here to take what they won’t give.”

“Majesty.” Lomanza rotates to him with machinist precision. “With all the considerable respect you are due, this closeness you have to the situation—of your homeworld, after all—”

“It was my idea, Majordomo,” Sykora says. “My husband had to be convinced. Convinced to save his world. This is my point. This is why I am sure. Who is the only true rival to a dutiful servant in devotion?”

“A hunk?” Waian ventures.

“A lover,” Sykora says. “We will win Maekyon the way I won my Maekyonite. We will show them the glory of our people and the wonders that we offer; we will place our faith in their hands and our oath of stewardship at their feet; we will open our arms wide.”

“We’ll steal them a really expensive guitar.” Waian’s the only member of the command group with a smile on.

“And we will hope.” Sykora approaches Grant and stands beside him. “With the desperate courage of a love’s confession. And when they choose us, our bond will be stronger than any coerced shackle could ever be. We will make them fall in love with us.”

She radiates confidence. But her tail is wrapped so tightly around Grant’s wrist that it’s leaving a mark.

“Now take that to the Empress, if you wish, Majordomo,” she says. “I know she’s awaiting your next report on me. I don’t care.”

“Majesty, I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Sykora repeats. “I bear you no ill will. I fully intend to present my plan within the tenday, regardless. We must have it in-hand before we arrive in Maekyon’s orbit for our grand reveal. You are sworn to obey her, so obey her. Spy on me. Warn her. But you are sworn to obey me, too. And I command you to aid me in the venture I decree. Find me the legal backing for a Mandate.”

“This will be a significant challenge.” Rare emotion is on Lomanza’s face. Grant’s never seen her this distressed. “All the files are older than the dataframes on which they’d sit. I’d have to search museums.”

“Then search them.” Sykora’s ironclad stare reminds Grant of the Empress, whenever she removes her glasses and shows her true face. “I’ll not be deterred. Hyax, Waian, Vora. You will reorganize your working groups into a tricameral committee and deliver me a blueprint for a modern Mandate stewardship. I refuse to bring the Empress some archaic scheme from the pre-membranal days. We don’t need razor fidelity, but I want this path to take us forward, not back. Presume, at the drafting stage, ready cooperation from Maekyon’s governments in the facilitation of citizenship for any Maekyonite who seeks a place in the Empire.”

Hyax snorts. “Not fucking likely.”

“I know it’s not,” Sykora says. “But we have a tenday until we’re in Maekyon’s orbit, and I need to put this up in front of Her High Majesty with enough time to revise all my bloody speeches and get my hair done up. We need something that can stand on its feet and sing for its supper. We’ll bolster it later, once the waters are rising. That crotchety Egon individual can help, perhaps.”

“The UN is kinda…” Grant wiggles his hand. “I mean… it’s better to have them than not have them, of course, but—”

“What do you mean?” Waian asks.

“We should focus on the superpowers for this,” Grant says. “Egon there onscreen is sure to be useful, but he’s not, like, the leader of the free world. I don’t think.” He rubs his chin. “I mean—I could be entirely wrong about the way my planet’s governments work. That was a common enough anxiety we all had. Have. A lot of conspiracy theories about the UN. We—”

“Boss.” Waian interrupts. “Boss, what I’m asking is what does UN stand for?”

“United Nations.”

“Ohhh.” She gives her forehead a light tap. “Cause it’s in Maekyonite. Had me confused for a second.”

“I’ve gotten used to ZKZ. You’ll catch on.”

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/120617...of-maekyon
https://www.scribblehub.com/read/1419041...r/2552105/