Impasse Resolution

“Right then. Since we’re at a clear impasse,” Ixthia looked out at the Legate holograms filling the upper galleries. “Colleagues. Our gracious Omnithornian hosts have voted to boot us from our offices on their little homeworld. They’ve frozen our accounts. Revoked our charter. Kicked our kids from Skyfall. And worst of all… threatened to cut us off from our kobolds and hoards. Ain’t that quite the temper tantrum.”

She tapped one claw against the armrest.

“I believe this calls for a counter-motion.” She smiled at the galleries. “Legates of the Frontenachii Empire. I warned you that this would happen, did I not? I told you that they would come after our lifeblood. The time has come to stop tolerating the Stabalists and their inane rules. I move we vote on Resolution… Two-Bee. All in favour?”

Green hexagons began appearing above the holographic Legates’ heads. One by one. Dozens at first. Then hundreds. The upper galleries lit up like a digital aurora as three thousand Frontenachii Legates cast their votes in wordless unity.

The hexagons solidified. All green.

“Motion carries,” Ixthia announced. “Unanimously!”

Colette blinked, ceasing her growling, scales flashing between emerald and white, frills fully extended in alarm. “What motion? What is Resolution Two-Bee? Nobody shared this with me! I am an Admiral of—”

“You’re an Admiral as long as we permit such, Cotty.” Ixthia’s voice hardened for the first time, the playful veneer slipping off to expose the dark, jagged celesteel beneath. “You’ve always been an Admiral because we allowed it. Your… unique fleet of green prads. Your forests. Your precious Dryads and World-trees. All grown in soil we conquered and fertilized with the blood of those who resisted integration.” She leaned forward. “Did you think that we ever forgot who you are? A Sixie. A page. A lowborn who grew too big for her seashell dress.”

Colette recoiled as if struck.

“Go ahead, object louder, my Admiral,” Ixthia said, leaning back. “We can always make you a Sixie, take away your diamond stripes and herbivores. Do you think that the next Admiral will be as nice as you are to your kobolds and Dryads, allow them as many nice things?”

Colette choked. Her eyes slid down, hands opening and closing.

“Ah, and thus you fold. As you always have. As you always will. Per our vote, you gave up your daughter to grow up in the time bubble and then regretted it ever so much, wept onto my shoulder for so many nights… As she hated you for it and never returned your calls. Now, you are simply incapable of giving up your herbivore and Dryad children to another’s hand. Sit down, Admiral. The show is about to begin.”

The Sixth Fleet Admiral slid back into her chair, covering her face with her pale, trembling fingers. She was weeping soundlessly, looking utterly broken.

Noona stared at Colette with a bothered and then deeply disappointed expression, spiked with an edge of pity.

[Dang. Colly’s totally folded,] Sage said grimly. [Ixthia baited her into reacting, then crushed her utterly.]

“What show?” Captain Argon demanded. “What have you just voted on? If you intend to break more laws or to assault us in some manner, know that our justice and retaliation will be swift and merciless! The Archangels…”

“Will it though?” Ixthia arched an eyebrow. “Do you perchance have three million years on your side to simulate every possible outcome?”

“What are you on abo–” the Quetzalcoatl began and then Ixthia snapped her fingers.

[Potential incoming threats!] Kawathra’s voice buzzed in my head. Time slowed down to near stopping. The holographic Legates winked away. The floor and walls of the chamber and the table in the center melted away, releasing massive Corpse Seekers.

I readied myself for consumption and gun unit explosion. Unexpectedly, not a single Seeker turned our way.

The Frontenachii tanks absorbed the Stabalist delegation and Saint Nikky, their artifacts and clothes dissolving rapidly within their ruby red interiors. 

In less than a second, six naked Omnid figures became suspended T-pose style within Seeker innards, only their heads sticking out.

[Huh,] Kawathra voiced, [they left us… alone. Why?]

Ixthia’s hologram ignited into being above her empty seat. She reached out and gave Bradberry a pet. The wolf leaned into her fingers, closing his eyes with a happy exhale, tail wagging.

Kawathra’s channel suddenly became filled with static. Sage’s fox eyes were basically frozen too as my gun unit body was accelerated to the maximum possible setting.

“An excellent performance all around.” Ixthia smiled at me. “Do give yourself a pat on the back… Mr. Clifford.”

Fuck. She knew my secret, mild-mannered identity.

“I am…” I began, noting that Wattica, Sillicia, Colette and their kobolds were frozen in time in comparison to how quickly we were speaking and moving. I was… basically alone with the Legate and her kobold, cut off from everyone else.

A gray, nullification field hung around Noona, projected from a hexagram in the floor, not letting her accelerate.

“You are the human boy our little Starshady found,” Ixthia said, “the kobold she fell in love with… deep inside the Wandjinn Ascendant Omnicorp nest. Go on then. Repeat your demands once more and I’ll answer you honestly while we have time to speak one-on-one.”

“Let them go and then fuck off my planet!” I repeated, pointing at the Stabalists. “If you keep this up, they’re going to chop off all of your kobolds with their Archangels. That includes Bradberry.”

“Alas, I cannot undo the vote.” Ixthia spread her hands. “The hoarding has already begun.”

“What hoarding?!” I barked, momentarily losing my cool. “Haven’t you assholes hoarded enough magical shite?!”

“Darling, you must understand a simple fact,” Ixthia said. “While we Frontenachii are individualists, we also vote on things democratically as a group. Akin to a solar eclipse, this event was inescapable, accounted for long ago. The Frontenachii Empire desperately needs daughters and the only way we can attain such is by moving forward with plan Two-Bee.”

“What?” I stared at her, not understanding her angle.

“Your job as Princess Aquillianne’s consort is to fuck her,” Ixthia said, “and likewise to fuck my great-granddaughter Galateya. Everything else you do is far less relevant.”

I stared at her, not sure what to even say.

“I’m talking about children, human,” Ixthia sighed, “do try to keep up. Your job as a male is to provide us with children.”

“Uhhhh, right,” I tried to wrap my head around the reverse gender roles being pushed here. “What does having children have to do with… Plan Two-Bee?”

“Omnids are incredibly Syntropic beings,” Ixthia said. “We are powerful and naturally immortal, magically stronger than any other species. This strength has a price. There’s a finite number of Omnid souls and we are going to reach it soon. Old Omnids must die for new children to be born from the loins of our youngest spawnlings. The other Omnicorps must be… pruned. If we don’t do it, other Omnitypes will reach this limit in time and turn on each other. This is an inevitable, inescapable statistic. Everyone wants to have kids, it is a natural desire for a Matriarch to produce spawnlings. We simply want to have more kids than the others and won’t take the Omniverse’s rules lying down.”

I frowned.

“You, my darling, provided us with a reason for action! Sooner is better than later in this case. According to the future-calculating Datamancer coven in the deepest level of Citadel Zero, this is the most optimal path forward.”

“Optimal for whom?” I asked.

“For everyone involved,” Ixthia said. “I did not torture Noona for a century for nothing. Her sacrifice and your actions accelerated the timeline. The Frontenachii Empire will one day absorb all doomed worlds, such is our Manifest Destiny! In the meanwhile, you will provide us with healthy new Omnid kids like a good consort!”

I frowned.

“Smile, my darling. If you behave like a proper submissive man… someday your children’s children will figure out how to fix the Omniverse, stop the Numbers, reverse entropy and save every doomed world out there!” Ixthia declared giddily.

“Can you not do all that stuff… without being absolute monsters?” I asked coldly.

“It takes a monster to fight far worse monsters,” Ixthia said. “We are the villains the Omniverse needs. We will conquer and preserve all! We simply require more children to do so, more Wendigo Commanders raised in time bubbles, more prad kobolds bound to them.”

“You’re… propagating suffering,” I said.

“Suffering?” Ixthia scoffed. “Look at Bradberry! He is happy to be my pet! He loves me with his entire heart! If I didn’t save him, a dungeon would be chewing on his soul, keeping him in pure hell for thousands of years!”

She gave the wolf more ear scritches.

“The Frontenachii Empire must grow because the bigger it becomes, the more worlds are saved from entropic ruination. I wear the mantle of a monster to save infinite souls from death. I will not repeat myself, human. If your brain is too linear and puny to comprehend a simple mathematical truth, there’s not much else I can do. Reducing infinite suffering faster requires a great deal of sacrifice,” she said.

“You need to stop,” I said with absolute conviction.

Ixthia rolled her eyes at me. “You cannot stop the tide, you can simply ride atop it on a ship. You are a little, single, cute human from a linear world being projected into a gun unit body. What power do you have that would halt the Frontenachii war machine, an engine set in motion thanks to three million years of planning and growing? You exist to be our pet, darling. To provide us with your seed. To be an amusing decoration. Struggle all you like. Eventually you will accept your fate like Bradberry and… heel.”

“I will stop you,” I insisted stubbornly, even though I had no coherent plan, even when Ixthia basically somehow saw all of my cards and could order my house nuked from orbit.

“I appreciate your barks,” Ixthia said. “Alas, that’s all they are. Adorable yaps from a creature on the lowest step of magical power.”

I suddenly realized that Ixthia simply didn’t see me as a threat. 

I needed an angle, and had to figure out how to deal with her.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Why are you allowing me to be Shady’s Administrator and Galateya’s consort?”

“Because it’s hilarious,” she revealed. “You entertain me immensely. Other… less intelligent Legates might try to shoot you in the head.” Ixthia glanced at time-frozen, cuffed Evelithria. “I want to see how much you can accomplish before you break or before the tide of our Empire catches up to and drowns you. Rebellion is permitted. Everything is allowed. Waste not, want it all! I will feed on your delicious fear for as long as you flail about, my yummy little human sausage… Dance for me all day and night long!”

Ixthia laughed jovially. She sounded somewhat unhinged. I wasn’t sure if she was playing it up for the effect of scaring me. 

She was definitely feeding on my fear… but how? She wasn’t anywhere near my real body, was she? Maybe she could feed off fear across dimensions? Could Elder Wendigos do that?

I studied her. The diamond-studded antlers. The diamondist dress. The far-too-damn casual sprawl. The devoted wolf at her feet, his tail wagging. 

I thought of Shady demanding scary movies from me. Of me figuring out that all she wanted was for me to take control of her. I thought of Sillicia enjoying her time at the movies. I mentally flipped through all I knew about Omnids and Wendigos in my head trying to come up with a solution to the problem of Ixthia Frontenachii.

“You want me to dance,” I said. “Fine. Let’s dance.”

Ixthia’s silver eyes narrowed fractionally. I definitely had her attention. But did I have her curiosity?

“Go on,” she purred.

“You think I’m prey,” I said. “A clever rabbit. Entertaining. Disposable. You’ve probably seen this play out a thousand times across a thousand small and large rebellions. The scrappy underdog rallies his friends, fights the good fight, and eventually gets spliced into a toilet seat or whatever passes for Frontenachii interior design.”

Ixthia chortled.

“Ixthia.” I took a step forward across the empty space where the table previously stood between us. “This is your first linear world, right? You’ve never found an Earth that’s this magic-free. Zexxia searched for a millennia for this place.”

“M-yes,” she agreed.

“You’ve never hunted prey on a linear world. You’ve never dealt with eight billion humans who produce more creative content in a single afternoon than your entire Empire generates in a decade. You’ve never danced with someone who genuinely does not give a single fuck about your three million years of planning or precognition.”

“Bold words from a nullborn mortal,” she commented. “Go on then, specify the nature of your rebellion.”

“No rebellions, because I obviously don’t have a legion of Corpse Seekers in my pocket. I’m… proposing a game,” I said. “Predator and prey. You and me.”

I was hoping that I was hitting the right buttons, getting through to the possibly less-than-sane, ancient Wendigo.

“And how exactly will our game be different from other misfortunate world leaders flailing against us and then getting spliced into a wall?” She wondered.

“Our game will last…” I mentally searched for a word that would capture her interest. “Forever.”