Malaran and the five Calistites stood on the vast purple plain waiting to be picked up. Malaran had dressed for the occasion, a gown of dark blue with silver trim, the colors of the Emperor of Man. The two smart-metal bracelets decorated her wrists. The Calistites wore rich black robes, a little fancier and ornate than usual but maybe more like how Priestesses of the Void would adorn themselves.
While she had met with the Order, the false Emperor had nuked the planet yet again. Not a true strike but more of a warning it would seem. Close enough to be seen and felt at Malaran's old priory and citadel, but not close enough to cause any real damage. The false Emperor's way of prodding a decision, it seemed.
It made Malaran more resolute in her decision, in her sacrifice. The madman had to be stopped. Leela had so much sorrow in her eyes when they parted, guessing Malaran's plan though they did not speak of it. They both knew that Malaran would not return, even if successful. The only way to truly contain the madness, to prevent an equally insane underling from taking the Emperor's place, would be for the Calistites to destroy the ship.
Malaran had wanted to tell her that death was better than the alternative, being the wife and child-bearer of a monster, but she doubted it would have comforted Leela. It didn't really comfort herself. Only the thought of destroying the monster appeased the sorrow she felt.
The Calistites just stood there in silence, stoic and mystical as always, not responding any time Malaran tried to talk strategy, again making her wonder whose plan this really was.
It was odd; she had felt almost guilty about the relief she experienced when she left the Order -- like a weight had been lifted, no longer restricted to a particular life. And then she turned around and put herself back under a bigger weight -- the mushroom cloud rising over Father's shattered, incinerated body changing her universe.
She looked out over Nuevo for the last time, the famous purple grasslands of the Vastedad Morada extending as far as the eye could see, the musty smell so familiar that she barely noticed it. Large flying insects buzzed over the grass. Five hundred years ago her ancestors were forced to settle on this inhospitable planet as the Umpala obliterated the Core Worlds of the Empire. She had spent much of her life wishing she could leave, to visit the Ashoka home-world of Niyati, to see the other worlds of the old Empire. Now, she seemed to experience just as much melancholy about the idea of leaving Nuevo forever as she did about the idea of never getting the chance to visit another world.
She sensed the ships coming and looked up. Three troop transports descended while several attack craft patrolled the sky.
With staccato reverberations from the straining engines, the landers set down around them, and their rear doors slid open. Enemy troops spilled out. Two companies, energy rifles at the ready, spread out to secure the perimeter. The third company, outfitted as the revered Agema with black and silver uniforms and bearing shield and staff, rushed in to surround Malaran and her retinue.
She held back her glare at these pretenders. At least their ineptness will make her job easier.
An officer stepped forward and saluted Malaran, pumping his right fist to left shoulder and then fully extending his arm. "Your Highness, Princess Malaran Athena Marissa Alicia Ashoka, His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Man, sends his regards and his eternal love." He nodded to the open bay of the landing ship. "Your chariot awaits."
Malaran just nodded, trying not to let his smugness affect her demeanor. She had a part to play. For a little while longer. And then she would make these bastards pay.