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156. Ruffled Feathers


“This doesn’t change the facts,” Empress Harke enunciated, frustration lacing her refined tone. “We don’t have the Fortitude. We couldn’t return it if we wanted to.” She sat back in her opulent throne, talons folding over the clawed arms, the pair of wide, sculpted wings forming the back of the chair framing her as they swept upwards to become the ceiling of the throne room. ‘The Soaring Embrace’, the design had been dubbed. Some days, Harke found it a smothering grip.

The military analyst presenting the dispatch hopped nervously, adjusting his uniform before venturing, “It’s not too late to tell them, Your Majesty.”

With a chirrup, the Empress retorted, “Of course it is. These upstarts believe the galaxy is theirs to monetise! They need to learn their place; now we have the premise on which to teach them.” Tirade over, she smoothed feathers that had started puffing. Before her, the analyst waited dutifully as the Empress’ words echoed through the hall.

“Although…” Harke resumed in a more calculating tone, head tilted in thought. “It would benefit us to know who does have the Fortitude. I wonder…” Sitting forward, she looked to the analyst again. “Move the seventh division into the Exploration Zone. Take three of their so-called ‘resort worlds’.”

The analyst nodded acknowledgement, but the Empress continued, “Simultaneously, send covert operatives eastward to search the Ele border and the Galactic Core. If I had stolen such a prize, I know I’d want to keep it far away from any warzone.”

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