chapter thirty nine: the heart of the empire

Torres had somehow reached the palace interior unhurt, carried by the force of her fury, perhaps. She wasn't thinking anymore: the only thing on her mind was blood, blood, blood. She wanted blood, to smell it, to feel it, to taste it. She wanted their blood.

Beside her, Janae fought with a furious intensity, switching between Spheres to keep her opponents off-guard. She was genuinely upset over Janeway's death, almost as much as Torres was. It seemed that Myriam's fears of her being the spy amongst the Panizhe ranks were unfounded. The fighting on the steps had been the worst; the palace guards were highly trained and hadn't given in easily. They had to kill most of them.

The fighting continued unabated even in the corridors of the Palace. Dead bodies littered the hallways, and the stench of blood and smoke hung heavy in the air. Torres combed the corridors, searching for the Empress. She would hunt her down, and kill her—

She and Janae stopped. They had reached the end of the long hallway and were standing in the vestibule that led to the throne room. An entire phalanx of Eminent guards stood in the way, expressions grimly resolute. There had to be at least thirty of them. Torres glanced briefly behind her; there were two or three Panizhe Warriors at the most. The rest of the invasion force were either fighting or slain. The odds were not good, yet she turned back and faced the wall of guards, her jaw set into a grim, determined line. She would not let them stop her, not when she'd come so far. She wished she had her bat'leth with her, but she had left it on Voyager, having not anticipated fighting in hand to hand combat. Raising her pike high into the air, she let out an ululating battle cry and charged forward. Janae leaped after her.

She mowed down the first guard she came to with sheer brute force, but the next few were not so easy. Soon she was surrounded by guards and fighting hard, for all of them possessed great skill and were dedicated Casters of Purple Ice, all fair matches for the strength of her Scarlet Fire. Janae, too, was struggling: it seemed that these guards were specially trained to deal with assailants wielding all ranks and Spheres. Torres had taken a force shield generator from one of the slain guards at the entrance and wore it around her wrist, but it was failing from the repeated assaults. It flickered, once, and in that instant a bolt struck her in the thigh. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Torres shifted her weight onto her good leg and continued fighting, but she was badly impaired in terms of speed and skill. It wasn't good.

Then suddenly a thunderous roar resounded through the vestibule. Tieran! While she had been fighting with troops that had approached from the north, Tieran had been aiding those leading from the south. The young tigress was clearly angry, judging from the heat in her roar. Powerful blasts of energy threw the guards across the room like a windstorm. Torres couldn't see the angry creature for all the mayhem, but she could feel her presence, and more—

At that moment Tieran leaped up high, and Torres' heart skipped a beat. For riding proud upon the massive sleek body of the tigress was a magnificent, glorious sight; shining armor and raw power, brandishing the pennant of the house Ashkar in one hand and a force pike in another. She couldn't believe her eyes. "Captain!"

Janeway turned and glanced at her once, directly, briefly, before continuing with the battle. But in that moment Torres saw the fierce determination in Janeway's eyes, and a sudden epiphany seemed to dawn upon her. Myriam had been right. There would be a victory today. That knowledge filled her with a runaway euphoric rejoicing. This was it, she thought, this was the victory that would liberate them all. She didn't know why she cared so much about it, but she did. It meant the world to her. Maybe I've been searching for a cause to fight for all my life, she thought.

A blazing blue bolt struck the pennant Janeway held and set it aflame. The doors to the throne room had blasted open, and the Empress stood framed within them, angry and terrible. It seemed as if a lightning storm was raging about her, destroying everything in its path. She laughed as Janeway threw the burning banner aside. "Watch your rebellion burn, heathen!" With a single wave of her hand she created a massive shockwave that spread outwards in a circle, knocking everyone onto their backs and sending Torres crashing backwards into a pillar. Her breastplate resonated painfully; her chest hurt and huge black stars were filling her vision.  She shook her head angrily and cleared her vision with a rapid series of blinks.

The shockwave passed over Janeway. She remained standing, jaw set, eyes aflame. "The rebellion burns because it is consuming your empire," she snarled. And then she raised her pike and charged forward.

Voyager was losing altitude. Kes was fighting to regain control of the ship; but they seemed to have been cut off from the Spheres entirely. Chakotay called for Janeway, but she was out of reach, perhaps dead. He didn't know. For the first time since the battle started, Dione seemed panicky. "What's our status!" He demanded of his crew.

"There is an Ice shield enfolding our ship," reported Kim, reading off the scans. "We have been isolated from all the other spheres."

"The Empress," breathed Chakotay.

"Precisely," said Tuvok. "We cannot call for help. We are isolated."

"We cannot reach the energies outside the shield," said Dione.

"Kes, can our pull us out of this dive?" said Chakotay.

"I'm trying," said Kes, "But the controls aren't responding."

"Engineering," he barked, "is there a problem with our engines?"

A harassed-sounding Carey responded. "We've lost our impulse engines, and the warp core has been destabilized. I'm not sure how far we can go on thrusters!"

Thrusters… That got Chakotay thinking. "If we could boost enough power to the thrusters, would it give enough for us to execute a proper landing?"

"Yes, but even if we diverted all power on this ship, it wouldn't be enough!"

Chakotay turned to Dione. The Mage looked uncertain; without her ability to Cast, she was virtually useless on the ship. He would change that. "You said you couldn't reach the energies outside. What about the energies within the shield? Could we use that?"

"You mean our internal energies." Dione's eyes lit with a new understanding. "There are a hundred and fifty people on this ship—each containing a vast amount of energy within themselves—I do think we can give of ourselves to sustain the ship!"

"Could you help us do it? Most of the crew on board are male, and with your own men—"

"I can do it."

Dione shut her eyes. "Kes, help me."

Chakotay sat back down in his chair. He could feel the energies slowly seeping from him, feel himself grow weaker, but Voyager was not shaking violently anymore. Her descent slowed and smoothened out, and the ship sailed forward, towards Licknok Moor, towards a safe haven.

With a wild cry, Janeway leapt forward at the Empress. She ducked easily to the side, sending a bolt of blue energy towards Janeway as she sprang away. Janeway deflected the bolt with her hand just as she landed on her feet; her hand was unburnt. For a moment the two stood staring at each other with hatred in their eyes. In an unspoken word, both threw their pikes aside.

"So, we meet again at last," said Nayrn, baring her sharp teeth. "It has come down to this, then. Empress versus Emissary."

Myriam's words drifted across her mind. You must know that you are not the Emissary…

Janeway shut the thoughts out. "You won't get away with what you've done to my ship," she growled.

"And you won't get away with what you've done to my empire," hissed Nayrn.

They stood, facing off for a second more. Then simultaneously they charged at each other. Bolts of energy bounced off the walls of the throne room as the two grappled with each other. The battle was evenly divided. Shouts of triumph resonated through the Palace interior—from the Panizhe troops overrunning the place—but the war was far from over. Their fight took itself from the cavernous vestibule into the chamber of the throne room itself; now their bolts ricocheted to the roof of the throne room, several stories up. The sounds of fighting rang hollow.

One of Nayrn's bolts caught Janeway in the shoulder, off-guard; she winced as it burned her. She shifted her position to block her wounded arm from attacks from the Empress, but the woman was picking up momentum, and it became harder and harder for Janeway to keep up with her. Despite Janeway's great skill, she had scant experience with fights of this sort, and she hadn't fully recovered from her ordeals. The Empress was gaining ground.

Something struck her hard in the abdomen; the Empress had ripped the head off a marble statuette and hurled it at her. Janeway lost her balance and stumbled backwards. Nayrn summoned a pike to her hand and charged at Janeway lying prone on the floor. Quickly Janeway ripped a large chunk of stone from a pillar and sent it hurtling towards Nayrn.

The chunk struck the Empress hard in the back, and she was thrown in the air, headed in a deadly arc towards Janeway. The point of the pike soared, dreamlike, towards Janeway. You are not the Emissary…

A dark figure leapt towards them and slammed into Nayrn, sending her crashing into the floor, pike clattering from her hands. Torres let out an angry scream. "Die!!"

Without even thinking Janeway brought the roof down upon the Empress. Torres leapt back as plaster and concrete rained down from the ceiling, crushing the woman beneath it. Even the triumphant cries outside ceased as the thunder of the falling roof sent tremors through the floor.

When the dust settled all was still. Janeway climbed to her feet and moved towards the mound of rubble. Nayrn was partially buried within it, all but her head and upper torso trapped underneath a tonne of stone. Her eyes were glassy and a trickle of blood ran from between her lips. She gazed up at Janeway as she approached, and a bitter smile touched her lips. "So. You have come to gloat."

Janeway said nothing. Torres came to her side.

Nayrn shut her eyes. "The Maldorian rule has been defeated." There was no trace of emotion in her voice, only a resigned acceptance. All her plans, her hopes and dreams had been crushed in one instant, leaving only ashes in her mouth. She could see that clearly, and it weighed her down more than the mass of rubble covering her. There would be no more fighting, no more struggle. The battle had been fought, and lost.

Yes, she had lost, and Janeway had won.

As Janeway stared at the Empress, the last words of Myriam came back to her again, and she suddenly understood what she had said before she had gone away.

You have a destiny to fulfil. You are not the Emissary….

It all came clear. It all came painfully clear.

"Take it," wheezed Nayrn. "You have earned it." She took in one last, tortured breath that ended in a liquid gurgle, and was still.

"Take what?" asked Torres.

"The Ring of the Eminence," said Janeway slowly. She watched as the intricate piece of jewelry on Naryn's exposed hand shrunk upon itself until all that remained was a small gold band on her index finger. Then she reached over and took the Ring from her finger.

The golden band began to glow and change, seeming to melt and run itself along her hand, tracing a delicate pattern of rivulets around her fingers and wrists. Light poured from within it, filling the cavernous room.

The Ring chooses…

Not Emissary….

Janeway flexed her hand, and the golden patterns shimmered, stretched to fit like a new layer of skin.

… Empress.