The setting sun covered the city below the spire in a red glow, and Kalirit was reminded of home. In this light, she was able to take off her sunglasses and rest her eyes as she surveyed the metropolis before her. Thousands of years earlier, before Thorians landed on Varakan, the landscape would have been nothing but endless fields begging to be cultivated to feed the nascent Empire. In the millennia since, the planet had grown to be the headquarters of the Anthar Kai, making Varakan the de facto capital of its own quasi-empire that Kalirit had now ruled for over two decades.

Having her office sit at the tip of a dark tower that reached more than a mile into the skies above Varakan’s main city seemed needlessly regal to Kalirit when she first moved in – a remnant of a time two centuries earlier when the Anthar Kai was at the peak of its influence, before the other races began to grow stronger, and the Thorian Presidium on the home world of Kai Thori began clawing back some control. She had built her career on being close to the ground, visiting as many worlds under the control of the Anthar Kai as she could, preferring to do business out of cramped quarters on freighters rather than the comfort of a proper desk. But she had grown to like such an expansive view, and now that her own construction projects were nearing their final years, she could see the renovated central district take shape as a microcosm for the colonies under her influence.

She readily admitted, but only to herself and at the end of a long day, that it was partially a vanity project, but as one of the youngest to have ever achieved the post of the High Commissary of the Anthar Kai, she knew she needed to seize the opportunity to throw her energy into a lengthy transformative endeavor. For twenty years the central district had been substantially rebuilt to organize the governing, logistics, freight-forwarding and other administrative offices by the worlds they represented. Not only would this inject some much needed efficiency into the bureaucracy, but would also give the millions of staff who worked in the city a clearer idea of the scale and distances of the empire they were tasked with running.

In the far distance to her left was the new complex that represented the outer Vaparozh colonies that formed some of Anthar Kai’s newest acquisitions, whose administration was granted to them by the Thorian Empire after the defeat in what had become known as the Last Gasp. Drawn against the setting sun were the dark shapes of the buildings that were responsible for the furthest Anthar Kai worlds on the very border of Dead Space. And below her, the finishing touches were being put on the dome of the grand pavilion that housed the governing structure of nearby Ntaos, home of the species that formed a sizable demographic of the workforce on Varakan due to the proximity of their homeworld.

As the city plunged further into darkness, the lights came on in her office, and on cue, her assistant rang the telecom to be permitted inside. Kalirit could not resist the brief smile that crossed her lips at Gaingat’s innate knowledge of the little slivers of day where she should not be disturbed, but by the time the door opened, the smile had been erased, and the face of the High Commissary was positioned carefully into place.

“High Commissary, an urgent message from Governor Fainreshlin.” The diminutive Ntaos began. No Ntaos stood over four feet tall, their square bodies hunched over into a constant deferential posture that made them the butt of so many Thorian jokes. Kalirit knew a fool whenever she heard anyone quip either about their far-set eyes that never looked straight at you, or their mottled yellow skin that was always wet with perspiration. She was capable of acknowledging that their bent spines formed the backbone of the Anthar Kai and therefore the Empire, and anyone who dared make light of that fact was, in the eyes of Kalirit, akin to someone who would saw the branch they were perched on.

“Has it now?” She picked the data pad from Gaingat’s stubby fingers. “That’s faster than I would have expected from Fainreshlin.”

“The Governor is punctual, isn’t he?” The other thing most Thorians commonly missed about the Ntaos is that they actually possessed personalities, something that would shock most staunch supremacists, who preferred to see the universe in easily categorized and generally unflattering broad strokes. Gaingat, for example, exhibited the frequent trait of bitter cynicism that was masked by a gaze diverted at the floor and missed by most Thorians, since they could not even begin to conceive that a peculiar turn of phrase was a subtle stab in their general direction. Kalirit chose to cultivate this particular trait in Gaingat as she was starved to work with those that actually dared express their opinions in her presence.

“Punctual is certainly a kind way of describing the Governor, and we wouldn’t want to be going soft on old Fainreshlin, would we?”

“I think the Governor has an easy enough time going soft on himself, High Commissary.” Kalirit gave her assistant a long look, debating whether she should permit herself to laugh or smile, but the moment had slipped out of her hand. “Sorry, High Commissary,” Gaingat quickly added.

“No need, Gaingat, you’re absolutely right, of course. The Governor is getting somewhat comfortable in his position, and there’s no reason why we should go out of our way to make his comfort our priority. Have we confirmed receipt of this yet?”

“He’d sent it certified.”

“Typical.” She could see Fainreshlin now, in the pompous robes of the old Governors, a self-described traditionalist that worshipped only those traditions that suited his own image of himself. She let her pause linger in the hopes that Gaingat would pick up on her desire to have news of the communication that she was waiting for with far more anticipation than the inevitable ramblings of Fainreshlin.

“Has anything arrived from the Presidium?” It felt like groveling, even if it was only to Gaingat, and she let her annoyance seep into her voice.

“No High Commissary, I’m afraid they’ve been completely silent.”

In measured steps she walked to the back of her office and sat down at her desk, her fingers flicking away at the computer displays sprawled before her. The half-melted archways so common in Thorian architecture loomed above her, their shape and dark colour reminiscent of the cliff-side cities on Kai Thori.

“I’ve also prepared a dispatch to the Presidium,” she said without looking up. “Have that sent right away on the most rapid stream you can find.”

“Immediately, High Commissary.” Gaingat made the slightest of moves to head out of the office when Kalirit continued.

“It is becoming more and more apparent that I will have to appear before the Presidium myself. I will likely be gone within weeks.”

“Shall I inform Vice Commissary Seshathirlin?”

“No, not at all.” Kalirit looked up then, resting her elbows on the table with the sides of her forearms facing out, a subtle gesture of threat when directed at a Thorian, but that signaled to Gaingat that his job was about to get that much more interesting. “In fact, I want you to make sure that he’s the last person to find out about this. Eitherorik will be deputy High Commissary in my absence.”

Even Gaingat couldn’t restrain himself from making eye contact. He was smart, Kalirit knew that. Smart enough to know that the biggest power struggle within the Anthar Kai was between the High Commissary and the commander of the Shoaman Kai, Anthar Kai’s military branch, and her relationship with Eitherorik was no exception. That look alone was the limit of how much Gaingat allowed himself to judge her decision making.

“I’m well aware of the reporting lines, Gaingat.” She assured him. “But interesting times call for interesting solutions. You will keep me apprised on my secure line as always.”

“Of course, High Commissary.” He paused and a small smile crossed his face. “You’ve left me with no additional instructions and I’m as puzzled as anybody.”

“Precisely.” She leaned back in her chair, flipping through everything that had come in since she permitted herself to leave her desk and admire the sunset. The piracy report from Eitherorik arrived at the expected time, the moment the Varakan sun dropped below the horizon. Dark news for a dark time. Another speculative report came from the managers at the exchange, recommending immediate diversion of haskbib seeds to the Mraboran Protectorate due to their popularity in making Thorian effigies in these trying times. And here was news that Creeper had allegedly spread as far as the Vaparozh holdings, but this was yet to be substantiated.

Regardless of the light outside, “nighttime” for Kalirit was a hollow concept. A hundred suns continued to shine on her empire and the linchpin that held it all together could not be beholden to any single clock.

“Gaingat,” she said to the Ntaos who waited silently for her to finish. “Once you’ve sent the dispatch to the Presidium, you may leave for the night.”

“And the dispatch to Governor Fainreshlin?” He asked before his body even as much as twitched in the direction of the door.

“He can wait. It would do him good to learn a little patience.” She looked down at the data pad and made a waving motion with her hand.

“Yes High Commissary. Thank you.” And before she could even raise her eyes to watch him leave, the door slid shut behind him.

Even in the silence of her office she could sense that the collective consciousness of the Thorians writhed in response to the turmoil and hope spurred on by the invasion of Krevali. This shared empathy was what had bound her species together and allowed it to dominate the Known Reaches, but she, along with an inestimable number of other severed Thorians, was blind and deaf to it. If she could somehow reach out and touch it, find a way for it to flow through her, maybe she would have a better idea of how to steer through the times ahead. Instead, billions of beings conspired quietly against her, and it was only fair that she return the favour.

Her only regret about her intended course of action was that she would not see the consternation on Eitherorik’s face as he scrambled to get to Varakan from Vesh Tarak, where the Shoaman Kai was headquartered, wondering the whole time whether he did something brilliant or utterly obtuse in order to be picked as deputy over Vice Commissary Seshathirlin. Not to mention Seshathirlin’s own inevitable oscillation between outrage at being bypassed and relief at avoiding any additional obligations. He would ultimately settle on huffing when anyone was looking and then counting his blessings behind the closed door of his office.

Vice Commissary wasn’t a real job in any case, more a way to say thank you for your service, you’ve been a great asset to the organization, here’s a shiny desk and title, now please stay out of the way like the good hapless fossil that you are. Seshathirlin relished in the pomp that came with the position, but just as responsibility shrank away from Seshathirlin, Vice Commissary Seshathirlin shrank away from responsibility.

So when the first reports from Krevali came in, naturally he was nowhere to be found. Normally, by Kalirit’s estimation, Seshathirlin’s ramblings were the biggest waste of resources in the entirety of the Anthar Kai, just going by the amount of productivity he leeched out of those around him. But it was Eitherorik that ended up calling their first meeting, even though he was practically on the transport back to Vesh Takar when the news first struck that the Anthar Kai would not be managing the governance and resources of Krevali. ~~~

It had been the Anthar Kai’s historic duty and the very reason for its existence. When the nascent Thorian colonies started producing anything of worth, a centralized system needed to ensure that both colonists and the homeworld had benefitted from the relationship, and so the Presidium, with the assistance of wealthy investors on the homeworld, established the Anthar Kai, to ensure that both the needs and the wants of the growing Empire were met. For thousands of years as new worlds were added to the Empire, the Anthar Kai was there to pacify and integrate the native populations, to set up supply lines, and graft the new living space like an additional body part with its own unique function onto a vast living organism. Yet as a culmination of an unspoken rift that had begun during the Last Gasp, when Anthar Kai military support was rejected, the newest species to be integrated into the Thorian Empire would not have the benefit of the millennia of experience accumulated within the corporation. And the senior leadership of the Anthar Kai would only learn of the insulting decision through news dispatches with no advance warning from the Presidium.