The greatest hero in the galaxy was Alkaia. God-emperor, with the greatest power and the ultimate justice. All pledge themselves to Alkaia, and those who do not…who is Alkaia, anyway?
I.
A cold neon city shone in a distant galaxy. Constructed upon the planet Vesicle, its blinding rays of pink and cyan were only intensified by the wet rock. On most days, Vesicle’s star was dimmed by intense mist, but today, it was completely snuffed out by downpour. The cobblestones and metal buildings shimmered in reflection of the city’s artificial glow. Most of the signs were plastered with the image of a cosmo-knight: a grand space warrior firing plasma rays and smiting gremlin-like miscreants. Above the image were the alien letters spelling Hero, savior, protector. Beneath was his name—the one everyone in the galaxy knew.
ALKAIA.
The puddles on the ground were disturbed as a pair of feet dashed through them. Another pair was close behind. Then, an ominous hum like a great swarm of wasps. The dreaded shadow darkened the ever-gleaming lights.
Two younglings were running faster than they ever had before. They didn’t know their fate should they be captured, but their time was running out. Soon, it would be over, for they were too slow. Too weak. Too frail.
Sure enough, Naxxi slipped and tumbled forward onto the ground. Helma tried to help them up, but she was knocked off her feet by a mighty air cannon. Hovering above them were a dozen drones tasked with their arrest. There was nowhere to run. Helma and Naxxi held hands as the foremost drone gave its announcement in a cold, robotic voice.
“Surrender acknowledged. Subjects are under arrest for the crimes of: theft, disturbing the peace, and treason. The punishments for these crimes are as follows: 5 years’ imprisonment for theft, 1 year’s imprisonment for disturbance, 50 years’ imprisonment for treason. May it be as God-Emperor Alkaia chooses.” Quivering from the rain and impending doom, Naxxi protested.
“We only took enough food to feed ourselves. We’re starving! And we never committed treason!” They knew it was a useless argument.
“Any crime committed in the jurisdiction of the God-Emperor is treason. To betray the law is to betray Alkaia.”
“We had no choice!” cried Helma through tears, though they could not soak her any more than the rain.
“There is always a choice,” said the drone. “You have made the incorrect one. You will now be taken to a correctional facility and processed. May it be as God-Emperor Alkaia chooses.”
Within moments, a large hovercraft descended from the clouds. Naxxi and Helma were forced onto the ship, never to be seen again.
II.
The difficult thing about running a solar system was that the sun never set. Governor Trusk knew this well and was long overdue for some quality rest. The bags under his golden eyes sagged a deep purple and folds crisscrossed his cerulean face. Taking a deep gulp from his mug, he continued his work.
“Two percent increase in crime over the past four periods,” Trusk muttered to himself. “Could this have been due to decreases in the price of cobalt after the Golin Asteroid was harvested?” He was beginning to lose his sense of reality, but then heard a stirring from behind him.
“That’s odd,” he said aloud without realizing it. As he turned to investigate, he noticed a tall, dark figure looming at the door. It was wispy like a shadow. It was hard to even focus on it. His head of security was beside it, wide-eyed and at attention. After a moment, Trusk convinced himself he wasn’t looking at a hallucination. He shook his head and returned to his senses.
“Governor Trusk,” hissed the figure, extending a spindly hand. “You have been selected to ascend to Interstellar Director. Congratulations.”
Trusk blinked his double eyelids, trying to catch on. Ascend? Interstellar Director?
“Excuse me, but who are you?” the Governor found his courage.
“Ambassador Avanol, one of the many heralds of God-Emperor Alkaia. Your exemplary performance as Solar Governor has not gone unnoticed. You are to report to the Galactic Palace immediately. May it be as God-Emperor Alkaia chooses.”
Finally up to speed, Trusk raised his hands. “What of my family? They already live here on Reticulum. Surely they can accompany me?” Without hesitation, Avanol responded.
“No.” Chills ran down Trusk’s spine. “As a direct adherent to the God-Emperor, you will no longer require familial, romantic, or sexual ties. Farewells have already been given on your behalf.”
This was too much for Trusk. He had built his life on Reticulum. His children were on the cusp of graduation and his wife was his eternal anchor. He hadn’t entered government to serve Alkaia, but to help those whom the God-Emperor had conquered. His performance was a result of his efforts to do good, not to ascend the bureaucratic ladder.
“With all due respect,” said Trusk. “I’m quite comfortable here. The people of Reticulum need me and I have every intention of staying. There are plenty of other Solar Governors who are just as qualified as I; they would be better suited. …May it be as God-Emperor Alkaia chooses.”
“God-Emperor Alkaia has chosen you,” replied Avanol. “To reject his gift would be to reject him. Such an act would be considered treason.”
Governor Trusk knew the penalty for treason. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life in a cell, so he had no choice. He hoped his family would forgive him as he followed the Ambassador out of the room. Being close to Alkaia would grant him many treasures, but at the cost of what he loved most.
III.
The dark hallways of the Galactic Palace were illuminated by green lanterns. Its labyrinthine corridors were intended to confuse and disorient unwelcome guests. In every enclave lurked whispering shades and hidden cameras. There was no safe place here.
But in one obscure corner, the spies were gone, the cameras disabled, and the shades dissipated. A replica of the iconic cosmo-knight was displayed; Alkaia was frightening even in this lifeless form. It was here where the four gathered.
“You received my summons,” whispered Lord Deekos. “Excellent.”
“Are we putting our plan into action at last?” said Lady Veldraia through pursed fangs.
“Indeed,” confirmed Deekos, nodding his reptilian head. “What are your thoughts, Director?” The orange cat-man folded his arms.
“It’s risky,” admitted Director Rhynal. “The God-Emperor is closely guarded.”
“Not when my militia distracts them,” interrupted General Ognor, scratching his iron beard. “Once the guards are drawn off, the three of you can enter his chamber.” They all smiled deviously. At long last, the reign of Alkaia would come to an end.
“After Rhynal disables the force fields, Veldraia and I will enter his lair. I’ll permit the Lady the chance to stab Alkaia through the heart. May it be as God-Emperor Deekos chooses.”
The others mimicked Lord Deekos, pledging fealty to the next ruler of the galaxy. This plan had taken decades to unfold as Deekos carefully assembled trustworthy allies in the highest echelons of Alkaia’s ranks. Suddenly, Lady Veldraia frowned and pointed a talon at Director Rhynal.
“Rhynal… did you just refer to Alkaia as the God-Emperor?”
In a split second, the cosmo-knight behind them came to life, grabbing Veldraia and Ognor as though Alkaia himself was inside it. Rhynal tackled Lord Deekos. A squad of red-eyed robots emerged from around the corner and the three traitors were handcuffed. Deekos, spitting blood, looked at the Director with despair.
“Why, Rhynal?” Shaking his head, the orange cat-man sighed.
“Pick your friends more carefully next time, Deekos. The God-Emperor has no time for traitors and schemers. You are all being charged with high treason and will be promptly put to death. May it be as God-Emperor Alkaia chooses.”
The forgotten criminals were marched to the gallows as Director Rhynal returned to his chambers, eager to submit his report to Alkaia. To act against his master, even as a double-agent, gave him great displeasure. He knew it was for the greater good as those wishing for insurrection were everywhere. The only ones Rhynal could trust were himself and the God-Emperor.
IV.
In the darkest reaches of the Palace stood an army of robotic guards, armed to the teeth and ready to defend their leader at any moment. They did not need sleep nor food nor entertainment—eternal watchers of the God-Emperor. They guarded a pair of metal doors hundreds of feet high and dozens of feet, thick capable of withstanding the fiercest of attacks.
Beyond the robot army and titanium gates was a complicated system of force fields that could only be shut off by those with the highest clearance. Even touching the field would result in immediate disintegration. There was no mercy and no compassion in the throne room of the God-Emperor.
Behind the force fields was a great metal cosmo-knight hundreds of feet tall. It sat on a throne of pure diamond worth billions. It was a testimony to the opulence of the most powerful person in the galaxy. The great android served as the final protector and home of the God-Emperor.
Within the metal man was a series of tubes connecting the brain-lair to the other vital organs of the machine. Waste was pumped away from the lair to be recycled. Extravagant meals were presented to the robotic mouth to be ground up and “purified.” The appropriate vitamins and elements were extracted from the food and pumped into the brain.
The brain-lair itself was a highly controlled pool of salty liquid. Laced within the gel were thousands of microcomputers which transmitted orders to the outside world. With just the simplest movements, the God-Emperor could control the entire galaxy.
Floating effortlessly in the middle of the pool was a microscopic single-celled organism. It consumed the contents of the agar and wobbled back and forth to activate the microcomputers. This cell was responsible for the downfall of countless civilizations. It oversaw countless scientific advancements. It subjugated an entire galaxy and placed it under an iron rule. It had no feelings, no aspirations, no thoughts. It was a cell.
It was God-Emperor Alkaia.
END
