"Here's what's going to happen," I said, settling into the chair they'd provided like it was a throne. The Grokkies High Council watched me with the kind of attention usually reserved for armed explosives. "The Grokkies system becomes an Imperial protectorate. You keep your autonomy, I keep you alive. Everyone wins."
Commander Zyx'ara's scales shifted to an interesting shade of amber—curiosity mixed with defiance, if I remembered the game's lore correctly. She stepped forward, her four arms moving with fluid grace that was both alien and oddly hypnotic.
"And in return?" she asked, her musical voice carrying undertones that made my skin tingle.
"You get to keep breathing," I replied with a smile that made several council members flinch. "Plus Imperial protection, trade agreements, and the knowledge that you're on the winning side of history."
She leaned forward, resting her upper arms on the conference table, and I couldn't help but notice how her form-fitting armor emphasized certain... diplomatic assets. The Grokkies might be reptilian, but they'd clearly evolved with aesthetics in mind.
"Lord Raven," she said, her scales shifting to a warmer gold tone, "surely we can discuss more... favorable terms?"
Behind me, I heard Meus shift slightly, her armor creaking with tension. Jealousy? That was interesting. And oddly flattering.
"I'm listening," I said, leaning back in my chair with practiced arrogance. "But understand—I didn't come here to negotiate. I came here to inform you of your new reality."
The eldest council member, his scales pale with age and fear, spoke up. "Lord Raven, we are a peaceful people. We have no quarrel with the Empire."
"No," I agreed, "but you have something I want. This system sits on three major hyperspace routes. Very convenient for trade. Very inconvenient for my enemies."
Zyx'ara's scales rippled through several colors—calculation, I realized. She was thinking, weighing options.
"What guarantees do we have?" she asked. "That the Empire won't simply... absorb us completely once we're under your protection?"
I stood up, letting Raven's natural presence fill the room. The Grokkies instinctively stepped back, except for Zyx'ara, who held her ground. Impressive.
"You have my word," I said, moving closer to her. "And more importantly, you have my interest. Dead vassals don't pay taxes or provide strategic value."
She tilted her head, studying me with large, intelligent eyes that shifted from amber to deep gold. "You're not what I expected, Lord Raven."
"How so?"
"The stories paint you as a monster. A destroyer of worlds." Her scales shifted to something that looked almost like admiration. "But you negotiate instead of annihilate. You offer terms instead of ultimatums."
I could feel Meus's eyes boring into my back. Shit. I was being too reasonable, too different from the original Raven's reputation.
"Don't mistake pragmatism for weakness," I said, letting my voice drop to something more dangerous. "I'm offering you a choice because it serves my purposes. Cross me, and you'll discover why those stories exist."
To emphasize the point, I gestured toward the viewport where the wreckage of their flagship still drifted in pieces.
Zyx'ara's scales went purple for a moment—fear—before settling back to amber. "Understood. What are your specific terms?"
"Simple. You maintain local governance, but Imperial law supersedes yours in matters of trade and defense. Twenty percent tax on all commerce. Military cooperation when requested. And..." I smiled, "exclusive mining rights to your asteroid belt."
The council members exchanged glances, their scales cycling through various shades of distress.
"That's... substantial," the elder said carefully.
"So is continued existence," I replied. "You have five minutes to decide."
Zyx'ara stepped closer, close enough that I caught her scent—something like cinnamon and ozone. "And if we agree to these terms, what assurance do we have of your... personal protection?"
The way she said 'personal' made it clear she wasn't just talking about military defense. Her scales had shifted to a warm rose color that I was pretty sure meant attraction in Grokkies body language.
"I take care of what's mine," I said, meeting her gaze directly. "Very good care."
Behind me, Meus cleared her throat pointedly. "My lord, we should return to Imperial space soon. The Emperor will be expecting a report."
Right. The Emperor I'd been ignoring. That was going to be a fun conversation.
"Of course," I said, not breaking eye contact with Zyx'ara. "Commander, do we have an agreement?"
She looked at her council, then back at me. "We accept your terms, Lord Raven. The Grokkies system pledges itself to the Dominion Empire."
"Excellent." I turned to address the full council. "You'll receive formal documentation within the week. Commander Zyx'ara will serve as your liaison with Imperial command."
Her scales brightened noticeably at that announcement.
"Until next time," I said, offering a slight bow that was more mockery than respect.
As we walked back toward the docking bay, Zyx'ara fell into step beside me. "Lord Raven, I hope this is the beginning of a... productive relationship."
"I'm sure it will be," I replied, very aware of Meus's increasingly rigid posture behind us.
---
The Nightshade's cabin felt smaller with just the two of us in it. Meus had been unusually quiet during the flight prep, her movements efficient but tense. Now, with the ship on autopilot and hyperspace engaged, there was nowhere to hide from whatever was building between us.
"You're different," she said finally, her voice carrying an edge I hadn't heard before.
"Different how?" I asked, though I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
"The old Raven would have glassed that station from orbit and called it a day." She stepped closer, close enough that I could see the conflict in her dark eyes. "This Raven negotiates. Shows mercy. Actually thinks before acting."
"Maybe I'm evolving," I said, trying to keep my voice light.
"Or maybe," she said, her hand moving to rest on my chest, "you're not who you pretend to be."
The way she said it made my blood run both cold and hot at the same time. Her palm was warm against my chest, and I could feel my pulse hammering against her touch.
"Careful, Meus," I said softly. "That sounds dangerously close to treason."
"Is it?" She stepped closer, her body almost pressed against mine now. "Because the Raven I've served for three years was brilliant, yes. Dangerous, absolutely. But he was also cruel. Petty. He would have killed half that council just to make a point."
Her other hand came up to trace the line of my jaw, and I had to fight not to lean into the touch.
"This Raven," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "this Raven is still brilliant. Still dangerous. But there's something else. Something... better."
"And what if I am different?" I asked, my hands finding her waist almost without conscious thought. "What then?"
"Then I have a choice to make," she said, her lips barely inches from mine. "Loyalty to who you were, or loyalty to who you are."
The ship's lights dimmed around us, responding to something I didn't understand. The artificial gravity seemed to fluctuate slightly, making us sway closer together.
"Meus," I started, but she silenced me with a finger against my lips.
"I know you're not him," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin. "The question is... do I care?"
Before I could answer, the ship's communication array chimed with an incoming priority transmission. The Imperial seal materialized in the air beside us—not my father's personal sigil this time, but Admiral Korrath's military command code.
"Lord Raven," the Admiral's voice crackled through the speakers, "this is Admiral Korrath. Priority Alpha message. The Zephyrian Princess has arrived early for the wedding negotiations. She's demanding to meet her future husband immediately."
Meus and I froze, still pressed against each other, as the implications sank in.
"Furthermore," Korrath continued, "the Emperor has ordered your immediate return to the capital. No delays, no detours. Imperial Command out."
The transmission ended, leaving us in silence broken only by the ship's humming engines.
"Well," Meus said, her hands still resting on my chest, "that complicates things."
I looked down at her, at the desire and conflict warring in her eyes, then at the communication array that had just delivered my summons back to reality.
"Just a little," I agreed, my hands tightening on her waist.
The wedding. The Emperor. The princess who'd arrived early and was apparently not the patient type.
But right now, with Meus pressed against me and her lips so close I could taste her breath, those problems felt very far away.
"How long until we reach Imperial space?" I asked.
"Six hours," she replied, her voice husky.
"Then we have time," I said, and kissed her.
The ship's lights flickered in response, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered what the hell was happening to me.
But that was a problem for later.
---