Death to the Imperium (Imperium Cicernus) by James McGovern Page A

life rebuilding his fortunes. Many years ago, he had founded the East
Galaxy Company, which had become famous for interplanetary trade. Now, after
selling the company for over fifty billion credits, he was finally in a
position to restore his rightful place in the Universe. And he would do that by changing the Universe.
    I,
Ozytan, will reclaim my birthright…
    Three
creatures appeared in the conference room, bringing Ozytan back into reality.
They were roughly humanoid in shape, except that they had snake-like skin and
black eyes. The creatures also had lethal claws on their arms, feet and tail.
They were called Weerms, and were creatures of not only great intelligence, but
also great ferocity.
    “Hello,
my friends,” Ozytan said, smiling at his visitors. He glanced at the
holographic timeprint hovering over the table. “Precisely on time, as usual.”
    “Unpunctuality
is a human trait,” the largest Weerm hissed.
    They
sat down at the conference table, facing Ozytan. The man gestured to a jug of
water lying in the centre of the table, along with several cups.
    “Would
you like some water?”
    Without
replying, the two creatures lifted up their hands. A tendril shot out from each
hand, landing in the jug of water. There was a slurping sound as they began to
suck up the water through their tendrils. Ozytan looked away. Although he
needed the Weerms, he could still not bring himself to like them. Nearly
everything about their nature repulsed him.
    “How
does the plan progress?” one of the Weerms said.
    “It
progresses well,” Ozytan said. “Soon we will be ready to strike at the heart of
the Imperium. It will be crushed.”
    The
Weerms made a horrible grating sound that Ozytan interpreted as laughter. He
knew that the creatures desired nothing more than the overthrow of the Imperium.
They stood to gain a massive reward—the spread of their species right across
the galaxy…
    “Soon,
my friends,” Ozytan said. “Soon…”
    ***
    Glitz,
Tekka and Doland sat down at the table in the Admiralty Board Room. Glitz
glanced at the First Naval Lord. He had quite a familiar face; Glitz was sure
that he had previously seen him on patriotic vidcasts on the official Imperial
broadcast standard. He seemed to be stern and masculine, but there was an
almost imperceptible sense of childishness, of mischievousness, bubbling
beneath the surface. In Glitz’s experience, many older men in positions of
authority seemed to develop such personalities; while never immature, they had
an occasional tendency towards irreverence and comedy.
    “Why
are we here?” Tekka said. “I would appreciate it if you could be both exact and
concise.”
    A
couple of the admirals clenched their fists, and Glitz swallowed. He admired
Tekka for being brave enough to speak to the Commander of the Navy of the Imperium
in such a disrespectful way, but he was worried that they would all end up
being punished for Tekka’s insolence. But the First Naval Lord simply chuckled.
    “Well,
I shall do my best.” The First Naval Lord pointed to the men sitting around the
table. “These are the finest men in the Imperial Navy. And still none of them
can get us out of our current mess.”
    “Please,”
Doland said suddenly, looking panicked. “I don’t know why we’re here, but…
whatever it is, we’re sorry! We’ll go back to Malus and serve the rest of our
sentences. Just please… please don’t execute us.”
    Grow
a pair ,
Glitz thought, annoyed. Of course, he too was intimidated by being hauled in
front of the First Naval Lord and the other officers. But he wasn’t prepared to
lose his dignity quite so easily.
    “Execute?”
the First Naval Lord said, his shining eyes widening. “Oh no, that was never on
the table. Oh no. We need your help.”
    Doland
gulped. “Help?”
    The
man nodded, placing his palms on the shiny table. “Let me tell you a story,” he
said. He activated a panel and a hologram projection of a planet appeared. It
was a cracked