CHAPTER 23: LITHANUL

2 days until Mars Orbit

She had nothing to do but sit on her luscious bed, the silken sheets pooling around her like a gentle embrace as she stared into the void, utterly lost in the tangled web of her thoughts. The windows outside were sealed tight, a formidable barrier that prevented her from witnessing the impending slaughter that loomed just beyond, a darkness that threatened to engulf everything she held dear. For the first time in her immortal life, she was frightened and utterly adrift, a solitary leaf tossed about in a tempest. The doctor she had known and trusted for the last few hundred years lay dead, his life snuffed out with a finality that felt surreal, probably at the hands of that traitorous slave who dared to call himself Muuktel. Just hearing his name sent a wave of nausea rising in her throat, a visceral reaction she couldn't suppress, a bitter taste that lingered like ash on her tongue. He had stolen her throne, and it was complete now; she could hardly bear to watch the broadcast meant for the people of the Alliance, a spectacle that now felt more like a funeral than a celebration. Across the galaxy, he performed a ghastly masterpiece, a grotesque show for the public to consume eagerly, their eyes glued to the screen as if entranced by some malevolent sorcery. He fed them fabricated lies, spinning a tale of how he was the chosen God of Almora, the only male in millions of years capable of impregnating a female. He proclaimed himself King through a farcical marriage to the Queen, a sham that twisted the truth into obscurity, ultimately claiming that she had relinquished all authority to him so that she could care for their child—the child of Almora, he insisted, as if the weight of her legacy could be so easily cast aside. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a dagger, twisting deeper into her heart, and she could almost hear the echo of her own laughter—once a sound of joy, now a distant memory drowned out by the cacophony of betrayal. The galaxy, once a canvas of vibrant possibilities, now appeared shrouded in a thick fog of despair, and as she sat there, the reality of her loss seeped into her very bones, leaving her shivering in the warmth of her once-comforting sheets.

Despite his outrageous claims, she was left grappling with an overwhelming uncertainty about the child growing inside her. Memories of shared nights and stolen moments with a multitude of males from various species flooded her mind, including other male Almorian slaves whose names danced at the edge of her memory, elusive like wisps of smoke. In truth, she had no idea who the real father was, and frankly, she didn't care; the notion seemed trivial against the backdrop of her current turmoil. The date she presumed would mark the birth was fast approaching, and her belly had grown monstrous in size, a testament to the life stirring within. Each kick and roll felt like a tiny celebration, as if the little spawn inside her was determined to enjoy its existence to the fullest. With every movement, she felt a pang of hope, wishing for the best for her unborn child—a life filled with prosperity and peace, not one marred by death, destruction, and perpetual violence. She found herself pondering how drastically her perspective had shifted; just a year ago, she had been bloodthirsty, consumed by a desire for revenge against anyone who dared to oppose her, her heart hardened by betrayal and loss, a warrior driven by pain.

Now, she had one singular goal. She needed to escape this ship, to flee from the very people who had once been her subjects, who now regarded her with suspicion and disdain. The thought of freedom danced tantalizingly at the edge of her mind, and she longed for refuge with anyone who would be willing to care for her and her child, to offer solace in this chaotic universe. But how could she accomplish that? Her command codes had all been revoked, the ship's AI no longer answered to her, and every crew member and soldier who had once obeyed her commands now turned a blind eye, their loyalty twisted by fear and ambition, the very fabric of her authority unraveled. She was, quite literally, a prisoner in her own royal chambers, the weight of her isolation pressing down on her like a heavy shroud, suffocating her spirit.

The sudden sliding of the door startled her, jolting her from her thoughts and revealing the grotesque figure of a Mordechai, who had plunged a metaphorical knife deep into her back with his presence, an unwelcome reminder of her precarious situation. "Mel'Nar." She spat his name like it was spoiled food, a bitter taste lingering in her mouth, a reflection of the resentment that had brewed between them. "I smelled your stench three decks away." With a labored effort, she struggled to rise from her bed, a rush of anger coursing through her veins, each heartbeat a reminder of her indignation.

"We must make haste, my Queen." He spoke in his native tongue, ignoring her barbs, his tone urgent, the gravity of the situation evident in his eyes, dark and intense. "I have disabled security on this deck, and we are en route to your yacht."

She stared at him, baffled, trying to comprehend the gravity of his words, the implications swirling like a storm in her mind. "You what now?" Her disbelief was palpable, each word tinged with suspicion, a protective barrier against the unexpected.

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"My Queen, I will explain everything, but please, come with me." His insistence was unwavering, a lifeline in the tempest of uncertainty that threatened to engulf her.

Tentatively, she followed him out of her chamber and down the dimly lit corridor, keeping one wary eye on the lizard-like creature, uncertain whether to trust him, her instincts screaming caution. "I've known you since you were a hatchling. For you to betray me like this, it breaks my heart," she confessed, the weight of their shared history heavy in the air, a tapestry of loyalty and betrayal woven together.

"I did what I had to do, my Queen. He has too many allies." His voice was steady, but the tension crackled between them like a live wire, a palpable reminder of the danger they faced.

"What are you talking about?" She jerked in shock as he shoved her forward, pressing his weapon against her back as a Minmoran soldier passed them, oblivious to their tense exchange, the air thick with unspoken danger.

"I do not have enough loyal soldiers to resist his claim. Too many of my brood are thirsting for blood; they long to taste Terran blood once more." His words hung in the air, a grim reminder of the stakes they faced, the price of failure looming ominously.

They moved in silence for several tense minutes, traversing corridor after corridor, each step bringing them closer to her yacht and the promise of escape, a flicker of hope guiding their way. "So, it was my order to stop the assault that turned away the broods," she recalled, the memories flooding back, vivid and painful.

"It was, my Queen. Unfortunately, Muuktel promised the very thing you took away." His voice was laced with regret, the weight of their choices heavy upon him, a burden they both shared.

"Why are you helping me?" Her voice trembled with a mixture of disbelief and desperation, the gravity of their situation pressing down on her like a physical weight.

"Because, my Queen, I've known you my whole life. You would not leave us to die. I know you would find other ways to provide for me and my brood. You possess wisdom beyond anything I have encountered. If you believe the Terrans should be left alone, who am I to question that wisdom?" His faith in her was a flicker of light in the darkness, a reminder of her own strength.

They halted just before a bulkhead that led to the docking bay, and she turned to him, staring up at him—nearly two feet taller than she was. A smile broke across her face, a flicker of warmth amidst the chaos, a moment of connection that felt precious and fleeting. "Thank you, Mel'Nar." She hugged his torso tightly, tears flowing down her cheeks as a wave of new emotions flooded her, gratitude mingling with fear, a heady cocktail of feelings that threatened to overwhelm her.

"You must hurry; the security systems can only be spoofed for so long. They will know the codes have been altered soon." Mel'Nar broke the embrace and opened the door to the docking bay, revealing her yacht and another ship of similar size nestled alongside it, a beacon of hope in the midst of uncertainty, a glimmer of potential salvation. She stepped toward her yacht, but the Mordechai commander motioned her towards the other ship. The airlock hatch opened, revealing a face she had not seen in many years, a figure from the shadows of her past, a ghost brought back to life.

"How is this possible?" She stood in awe, disbelief etched on her features as she regarded the figure standing at the threshold, memories rushing back like a tide, overwhelming in their intensity.

"Let's go, Lithy! We don't have time for science lessons. We have to leave, now!" The alien waved for her to enter with a sense of urgency, the moment pressing down on them like a heavy weight.

"Lithy?" The name felt strange yet oddly comforting, a reminder of brighter days, a spark of nostalgia in the midst of turmoil.

"I'm not calling you Queen, or Your Highness, or any of that other nonsense. So, Lithy it is. Now, get your pretty bum into my ship." The directness of the alien's words was refreshing, cutting through the fog of confusion with a clarity she desperately needed.

She glanced back at Mel'Nar, who had not followed her inside, a pang of regret twisting in her gut, a feeling of loss that threatened to swallow her whole. "You're not coming?"

"I musssssst sssstay, my Queen." He hissed in Galactic Common, then switched to his native tongue, the words heavy with meaning. "I must organize the resistance from within and try to stop our new king in whatever way I can." His resolve was unwavering, a testament to his loyalty, a bond that transcended their current predicament.

The engines of the ship began to whine as they powered up, and Lithanul stared at her companion, tears streaming down her face as the reality of their separation sank in, a chasm opening between them. For four hundred years, the Mordechai had been by her side; she could hardly imagine a day without him. "Good luck. May we see each other across the vastness once more!" She saluted him, showing respect to her military commander in a way she expected everyone to show her, a final gesture of solidarity, a promise of hope.

Mel'Nar returned the salute, a solemn expression on his face as he watched her ship lift off and leave the bay behind, taking her toward an uncertain future, the weight of their shared history lingering in the air like a bittersweet memory, a reminder of all they had fought for and the sacrifices yet to come.