Authors' note: This story takes place in what would be the seventh season of the series.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Titans or any related characters. DC Comics does. I'm just borrowing them.
On days like today, Galfore felt every single one of his two hundred seventy-eight durga.
The current emperor of Tamaran restlessly paced through the halls of And'R Palace in a vain attempt to focus on the problems of the day. He remembered once saying that facing a horde of Voorlian Berserkers was easy compared to raising three small children. Now, though, he yearned for the relative serenity of dealing with teething, puking, and temper tantrums. Compared to the agonizing tedium of running a planet, it was like a vacation.
His mind drifted back about three durga to the circumstances that had placed him on Tamaran's throne. Back then, the rule had been Komand'R's. She'd been a spoiled and petty monarch, governing more with whims than wisdom. The final straw had come when she'd used her authority to prevent an invasion by the Drenthax... by offering King Glrdlesklechhh the hand of her own sister in marriage. Young Koriand'R had been resistant to the idea, but was willing to go along with the marriage for the good of Tamaran. However, when the princess's allies, the Titans, had proven the invasion to be a fraud, Kori challenged her sister to combat for the throne, and won. Ultimately, though, she had decided that she was unqualified to be the Empress herself, and had chosen her beloved knorfka to lead the planet.
I must remind myself to thank her, he thought ruefully. Thanks to that "honor", five of his nine stomachs now had ulcers. Still... Galfore was never one to shirk his duty. If only there wasn't so MUCH of it. From moderating public disputes, to overseeing economic, agricultural, and cultural development... the endless, ENDLESS meetings with the Elders... managing relations with other worlds... it was overwhelming. His hair had gone silver practically overnight.
And now, there was this new threat, the mysterious force known only as the Citadel. They'd sprung up on the outskirts of the system, and almost immediately overran every neighboring world. From there, they'd swept through numerous worlds, conquering them with little resistance.
But then, they have never come up against Tamaran, he though with satisfaction. There were few races fiercer than his own through the known universe. Even the Gordanians had not been able to overcome them.
No, Galfore did not fear the Citadel.
"Sire!"
Galfore's reverie had been interrupted by his aide, Karras. He acknowledged the younger man with a nod. "Speak, Karras. What is so important that you must interrupt the first period of free time I have had in eltzai?"
"It's Harn Outpost, sire."
"Yes, Harn outpost... what of it? Out with it! I don't have patience for guessing games today!"
"It's... not there, anymore, sire."
"And... do we know WHY it's not there anymore?"
"I'm... afraid so, sire. We have their last transmission." He removed the small comm device from his belt and hit the "replay" button.
"Tamaran! This is Harn Outcrackle reporting. crackledel fleet approaching! Repeat! Citadel crackle approaching! Heading crackle 573.981! Preparing defense—" The transmission cut out suddenly.
"We can only assume what happened after that, sire," the aide continued, the weary sound of defeat in his voice.
"Harn Outpost..." Galfore sighed heavily. He felt as though he had aged a thousand durga and gained a thousand tsevnas in the last mura. "They will not be long, at this rate. Quickly... We must raise the planetshield and scramble the Tamaran Guard."
"As you command, sire," Karras spoke into his comm. "This is Karras. Alert all defense forces. Gold priority. The Citadel fleet approaches,"
"Aye, sir. Gold priority. All forces at maximum readiness," came the reply.
"We shall be ready, then," Galfore declared. "The Citadel will find that Tamaran is one world that will NOT cower before them."
Aboard the Citadel flagship Talon, a man stood. He was a humanoid, seven feet tall, with a muscular build. His skin was a dark indigo, his hair stark white in contrast, and his expression a mixture of arrogance and cunning.
This man had no name, as most sentients did. He was known only as The First, for that was what he was... the first member of the Citadelian race, the first among all of the Citadelians in authority. In fact, technically he was the only member of the Citadelian race, since all the others were merely clones mutated from his own DNA.
In contrast to The First, the Citadelian soldier-drones were large, slovenly, grotesque creatures, with bulky, misshapen bodies, no hair, and massive tusks. They had a distinct lack of intelligence, but made up for it in sheer brutality.
"We approach Tamaran, Great First," the drone at the helm stated. He had no name; The First had never bothered to give the drones any. After all, if he himself had none, why should his inferiors? "Planet shields up. Shoot guns now, Great First?"
"That won't be necessary," The First's companion purred. "My dear knorfka may have locked the door, but he forgets that I know where the spare key is hidden." Her golden-skinned fingers danced over her station's keys. "There... our own shields are now on the same frequency as the planet's... we'll just pass right through. No need for any messy bombardment."
"A good choice, my dear... why crush what you can simply take intact?" He nodded to the helm officer. "Take us in. We have a planet to seize."
I'll have the throne back in no time, thought Blackfire. I should have allied with the Citadel ages ago.
"They're through the shield?" questioned Galfore, uncomprehending. "How is that possible? They would have needed to know the... frequency..."
Realization gripped him. Only three people would know the codes. One was on Earth, one had relocated to the outskirts of the system...
...and one had been banished.
"Komand'R." he thought aloud, feeling the grip of age once again. "No... she could not be responsible. They must have forced her to reveal the frequency, somehow."
"Sire..." replied Karras, "I know you regard her as if she was your own daughter, but-"
"SHE WOULD NOT BETRAY HER OWN PEOPLE!" Galfore angrily cut him off, grabbing his shoulders. "HOW DARE YOU EVEN SUGGEST-"
His angry denial was interrupted by the planetary alarm, the signal that the fleet had entered the atmosphere. A glance out the window confirmed it; the massive white Citadel dreadnaught was reverse-silhouetted against the dark violet skies, flanked by three smaller battlewagons and hundreds of small insectlike drone fighters. The dreadnaught alone packed enough firepower to reduce the city to a crater; combined with the battlewagons and drones.
Karras received a transmission on his comm. "Sire?" he said. "The dreadnought is hailing us."
"I will take it in my chambers," replied Galfore with the sound of defeat in his voice.
"Hello, dear knorfka. Did you miss me?"
"Komand'R," acknowledged the old man on the screen curtly. "Do you care to explain why you have chosen to ally yourself with these X'hal-forsaken brutes? What could they have offered you that would make you turn against your own kind?"
"They promised me the thing that was stolen from me... the throne of Tamaran," replied Blackfire petulantly. "Now... if you don't mind, I'd like if you handed it over."
"You're a fool, Kom. The Citadel will never honor its end of your bargain. Even if by some miracle, they DO allow you to sit on the throne, you will be little more than their puppet. Please... listen to me for once!"
"You're boring me," the ex-empress replied dismissively.
"Enough." The First stepped forward. "The choice is simple. Surrender, or be vaporized... along with every other Tamaranean on your planet." Blackfire attempted to protest, but the First silenced her.
The emperor turned to someone offscreen, and whispered a question. Blackfire had no idea what he'd asked or what the answer had been, but it seemed to greatly displease him.
Finally, the old man turned back toward the screen. "For the sake of Tamaran... I surrender."
"Excellent," the First replied. "I had a feeling you'd see things our way."
"Ahhh... I've forgotten how comfortable this was," Blackfire said, settling into the throne."
"I'm glad, my dear," the First replied. "You realize that I was merely bluffing back there, correct? I would never have actually fired on the city."
"I wish you'd chosen to share that with me beforehand," the empress admonished. "You're only here at my behest, you know."
"Of course. I would not dream of countermanding you."
"Good. Where is Galfore? I'd like to see him, if you don't mind."
"I regret to say, my empress, that he fled. I suppose he didn't have the courage to transfer the throne himself."
"That... doesn't sound like my knorfka," Blackfire responded, confused.
"I suppose you didn't know him as well as you thought you did. Power can do things to people... transform them completely beyond recognition," answered the First.
"I suppose it's just as well. I would have had to punish him... It wouldn't have been very enjoyable for me."
"Of course. We can't have you worrying yourself with such umpleasantness, do we?"
"Oh, I have no problem with punishing certain others. Like my dear sister Koriand'R. I'm definitely looking forward to that. The little klorbag steals the throne from me, and can't even be bothered to keep it. No... she has to go back to Earth and continue to play 'super-hero' with her stupid little club." She stood up, her anger and resentment boiling inside. "I want her brought here to face punishment."
"Very well, your highness... I will dispatch a team of bounty hunters to retrieve her."
'They'll have to be really good... those insipid friends of hers are sure to rush to her defense."
"Oh, don't worry about that, dear... I plan on sending Gathrak the Savage and his warpack."
"Khunds?" For the first time, Blackfire found her resolve slipping. "Isn't that sort of... overkill?"
"No... I think it will be just the right amount of kill."
Next: A celebration at Titans' Tower is ruined when the Khunds crash the party.
Tamaranean-to-English Glossary:
Durg (pl. durga): Tamaranean time measurement roughly corresponding to a year.
Eltza (pl. eltzai): Tamaranean time measurement roughly corresponding to a week.
Klorbag: Untranslatable Tamaranean insult.
Knorfka: Caretaker, usually of children.
Mura (pl. murai): Tamaranean time measurement roughly corresponding to a minute.
Tzevna (pl. tzevnas): Tamaranean weight measurement roughly corresponding to a pound.
X'Hal: Goddess worshipped by most inhabitants of the Vega system.