The Emperor's seal still glowed in the air, waiting for a response.
"Tell my father I'm handling urgent Imperial business," I said to Meus, my voice carrying more confidence than I felt. "The Grokkies situation requires immediate attention."
Her eyes widened. "My lord, you can't just ignore the Emperor—"
"I'm not ignoring him. I'm showing initiative." I moved toward the door, adrenaline overriding common sense. "Sometimes it's better to ask forgiveness than permission."
Meus hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between protocol and loyalty. Finally, she straightened and fell into step beside me, her boots clicking against the polished floor in perfect rhythm.
"What are your orders regarding the Grokkies, my lord?" she asked, her tone shifting to professional efficiency.
I grinned, feeling the first real rush of power since waking up in this body. "Let's go teach some aliens about Imperial hospitality."
---
The Nightshade's hangar bay was a cathedral of black metal and predatory design. My personal stealth frigate sat in the center like a sleeping dragon, all angular lines and barely contained violence. Just looking at it made my pulse quicken.
"All pre-flight checks complete, my lord," Meus reported, her fingers dancing across a holographic interface. "Stealth generators online, molecular disruptors loaded and armed."
The ship's cockpit welcomed me like a lover's embrace. Every control, every system interface felt familiar in a way that went beyond muscle memory. This wasn't just Raven's ship—it was an extension of his will, and now mine.
"Comfortable?" Meus asked, settling into the co-pilot seat. The way she moved was pure liquid grace, and I caught myself staring at how her uniform stretched across her chest as she reached for the navigation controls.
Focus, I told myself. You're about to commit what's probably several war crimes. Try to keep your priorities straight.
"Like I was born for this," I replied, firing up the engines. The Nightshade's power core hummed to life, sending vibrations through the deck plates that I felt in my bones. "Time to see if I'm as good at this as the game made it look."
The hangar bay doors opened to reveal the star-field beyond. Grokkies space lay three jumps away—neutral territory that was about to become very un-neutral.
"Engaging warp drive," I announced, and reality twisted around us.
---
Three hyperspace jumps later, Grokkies Station materialized on our sensors like a bad omen made manifest. The massive ring-shaped structure bristled with defensive platforms, weapons arrays, and enough firepower to crack a moon. Exactly like the game, but somehow more intimidating when it wasn't just pixels on a screen.
"My lord," Meus whispered, her voice tight with tension. "Their entire defense fleet is launching. Forty-one ships and counting."
I studied the tactical display, my gamer instincts kicking in hard. In the original game, this had been a puzzle boss—brute force would get you killed, but there was an elegant solution if you knew the pattern. The trick was making them defeat themselves.
"Perfect," I said, activating the comm system. "Grokkies Station, this is Lord Raven Vex'thara of the Dominion Empire. You have thirty seconds to surrender before I demonstrate why that's your best option."
The response was immediate and predictable—weapons fire from every platform simultaneously, turning the space around us into a light show of death.
"Predictable," I muttered, diving the Nightshade into a spiraling descent that used their own defensive grid against them. "Meus, watch this."
I led their fighters into a classic pincer formation, their ships converging on our position from multiple vectors. At the last possible second, I activated the stealth field.
The Grokkies ships, unable to stop their attack runs or detect our new position, collided with each other in a spectacular display of poor tactical coordination. Explosions bloomed like deadly flowers across the void.
"Twelve ships down," Meus reported, her voice filled with something between awe and what sounded suspiciously like arousal. "How did you—"
"Know their attack pattern? Lucky guess." I lined up the next phase, targeting their command ship with surgical precision. "Now for the real show."
The molecular disruptor charge hit their flagship's regeneration core dead center. Instead of the usual blue glow of quantum reconstruction, there was only empty space where half the ship used to be. No explosion, no debris—just gone, like it had never existed.
The remaining Grokkies fleet stopped firing immediately.
"I believe that got their attention," I said, opening communications again. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but my voice stayed steady. "Now, shall we discuss terms like civilized beings?"
---
The Grokkies station's docking bay was a study in controlled panic. Alien soldiers—tall, scaled humanoids with four arms and reptilian features—scrambled to form some semblance of an honor guard as we disembarked. Their scales shifted through various shades of purple and blue, which I vaguely remembered meant fear and submission in their species.
"Call your leader," I announced, letting Raven's reputation precede me. "Now."
A female Grokkies stepped forward, and I had to admit—the universe had interesting taste in alien anatomy. Tall, elegant, with scales that shifted color in the light and curves that suggested their species had very similar priorities to humans when it came to physical attraction.
"I am Commander Zyx'ara," she said, her voice carrying musical undertones that made my skin tingle. "The High Council will see you."
Professional, I reminded myself, even as I noticed how her form-fitting armor did absolutely nothing to hide her assets. Even if she was built like an exotic dancer's fever dream.
"Lead the way," I said, noting how her soldiers kept their weapons lowered but ready. Smart. "And Commander? I appreciate the warm welcome, but if anyone so much as twitches wrong, I'll demonstrate what happened to your flagship on a more personal level."
Her scales shifted to a deeper purple—definitely fear, if I remembered the game's lore correctly.
"Of course, Lord Raven. This way."
As we walked through corridors lined with nervous guards, Meus leaned close enough that I caught her scent again—gunpowder and something floral that made my pulse spike.
"My lord," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear, "that was... impressive."
The way she said it made me think she wasn't just talking about my tactical skills. There was heat in her voice, admiration mixed with something that made my body respond in ways that were definitely not appropriate for a diplomatic mission.
"Just getting started," I replied, feeling more like Raven with every step.
The command center doors opened with a pneumatic hiss, revealing the Grokkies High Council—five aliens who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else in the galaxy. Their scales had gone completely pale, which I was pretty sure meant they were scared shitless.
Good.
"Gentlemen," I said, stepping into the center of the room like I owned it. "Ladies. Let's talk."
The eldest of the council, his scales marked with age and what looked like old battle scars, stepped forward.
"Lord Raven," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "To what do we owe this... visit?"
I smiled, and even I could feel how dangerous it looked.
"I'm here to make you an offer you can't refuse."
---