Carol Jordan struggled to remain at attention as she waited to receive her decoration. The courtyard of the imperial palace was filled with over ten thousand potentates from all over the galactic Dynasty that was about to honor her with the highest award for bravery and dedication that the Dynastic government had to offer. It was not the crowd that caused her nervousness. It was the fact that she was about to meet the Emperor, the Dynasty's ruler.
Nathaniel Trent had been an officer in the Old Federation before it had fallen due to its own bureaucratic excesses and complacency. It had become too sure of itself and was slow to adapt to change. Faced with external pressure and internal decay, it had fallen ten years ago. Trent had rallied the remnants of the Old Federation's military and police forces, formed an alliance with the powerful Andrian Confederacy, and fought to stem the chaos that had filled the power vacuum that followed the Old Federation's fall. He had been twenty-three years old at the time. After years of fighting the Dynasty had one quarter of the galaxy under firm control, approximately one quarter belonged to the Andrian Confederacy; the rest was held by enemy governments or was unexplored.
Emperor Trent governed from the solar system he had dubbed "Triumph." Each solar system that was part of the confederacy elected its own leaders, and made its own laws, but each paid taxes to the Emperor, submitted to certain laws concerning commerce and extradition for crimes, agreed to the abolition of slavery, and contributed to the general defense. Dynastic territory was divided into twelve sectors each protected and administered in the Emperor's name by one of the Dynastic Archdukes. The Archdukes were all comrades from the Emperor's War Against Chaos and answered only to him.
The Emperor's title was hereditary, meaning it would be passed to one of Trent's children. (This was also true of the archdukes.) Each system elected its own officials, but the Royal family would assure a political continuity the Old Federation lacked. Jordan forced her hands not to shake. The Emperor himself would be decorating her in a few minutes.
She was to be the first person awarded the Emperor's medal of Valor. The honor had been earned through pain. She had been hospitalized for three months and undergone six operations recovering from her last battle. She still had nightmares about the fire engulfing her. She remembered the heat itself searing her flesh even through her fire -resistant space fleet uniform. She remembered dragging three injured crewmen from the flame-filled bridge. She could still see the crewmen she could not save. She remembered the burns that covered her from head to toe. She remembered endless hours in regeneration tanks and the how the itching of the skin grafts had nearly driven her man. And, of course, there was the pain; the incessant, relentless pain that no drug could moderate.
That pain had already earned her a promotion, her coming decoration, and a personal dinner with the royal family. The royal family consisted of the Emperor, his fifteen wives, and their children. The Emperor had adopted the Andrian custom of plural marriage, and many other parts of Andrian culture. The Emperor's wives helped him govern his dynasty; overseeing his fleets, his armies, the Dynastic economy and all the various departments of government. There was much speculation about what went on behind the closed doors of the royal palace and how one man could keep so many beautiful and powerful women at his side and in his bed. Rumors abounded that Jordan herself would become his next wife and be given a position on his ruling council. Would she be asked to join the royal family? What would she do if she was?
Trumpets sounded and the crowd stilled. The imperial wives entered the courtyard. They were followed by the ten children of the Imperial household, six servants who attended them, and a platoon of heavily armed and armored guards. The wives were seated near the podium where Jordan stood. All of them were beautiful, elegant, and regal. Jordan though it silly that any one would believe that the Emperor would want her when he had such women already.
Shayal Atrava, the Emperor's first wife and his designated Empress sat in a chair that occupied a platform a meter higher than where the other wives sat. The Empress was a Princess of the Andrian Confederacy; the daughter of its current monarch, Galayen Atrava. It was through marriage to Shayal that Trent had allied himself with the Andrian Confederacy. She was young, slim, and carried herself with perfect poise that came from a life time of training. Her hair, like most Andrians, was lustrous and inky-black. She wore it at shoulder length and slightly curled. Her eyes were the lightest blue and shined with intelligence and wit.
She was dressed in a flowing ankle-length white dress made of silk; or something like silk. It was trimmed in gold with a neckline that plunged nearly to her navel, showcasing cleavage that was perfectly proportioned to her body. There were slits on both sides of the dress that ended just above the knee that allowed ease of movement. It was backless down to the base of her spine. A necklace comprised of dozens of gemstones adored her throat; a single grape-sized, sapphire hung between her breasts. Jordan found herself jealous of the Empress' beauty and grace. She was still almost mesmerized watching her dance-like walk and the flow of the exquisite dress about her ankles.
Jordan thought she should look at the other wives. She did not want inadvertently snub one of the Imperial family, but she seemed compelled to memorize every detail of Shayal's appearance. Jordan gasped when the Empress looked directly at her and smiled. It was a pleased, knowing smile. It also seemed to be a welcoming smile. It made Jordan feel like she was, or was about to be, a part of an exclusive club.
More trumpets sounded, and Jordan finally forced her eyes away from Shayal. The Emperor came into the courtyard flanked by a twenty-being honor guard consisting of ten men and ten women. He was dressed in military uniform that shared the color-scheme of the Empress' gown. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and graceful in stride. His face was sculpted and confident, and his hair was a sun-lightened brown. It was cut short but was thick enough to blow slightly in the wind. Carol had always thought he was too handsome to be an Emperor. Rulers as effective and attractive as Nathaniel Trent only existed in fairy tales. But this was no fairy tale. The Emperor was only a few meters away, and his nation was prospering despite the efforts of more than a few enemies.
The Emperor strode onto the podium, now only a meter or so away from Jordan. The wind carried the scent of his cologne to her nostrils. The scent was unique: sweet and almost unbearably masculine at the same time. The Emperor was giving an address to the crowd. Although he was speaking about her and recounting the events for which she was being rewarded, she was barely aware of his words. They seemed distant and unintelligible. What she could hear was the tone of his voice. It was deep and melodic and seemed to have physicality to it. It seemed to enter her brain through her ears and caress her mind. Added to this was a kind of vibration that seemed to emanate from the Emperor's body. (Vibration was an inadequate word, but she could think of none better.) A delicious tension began to build in her body. It was as though a lover had just indulged her in hours of expertly performed foreplay.
Jordan blinked and the Emperor was standing before her; only half a meter or so from her. She had been lost in whatever power surrounded him, and had not realized that he had finished speaking. He was speaking directly to her now, holding her medal. Dimly, she realized that he was congratulating her on being decorated. She heard herself thanking him but she was not consciously forming the words. He placed the medal around her neck; lifting her dark, shoulder-length brown hair to place the purple ribbon the medal hung from beneath it. The sensation of his fingers running through her hair made her sigh very softly. The Emperor smiled knowingly and drew his hands down Jordan's neck after the medal was in place.
Jordan was in another world. Just being in the Emperor's presence had made her burn with desire. The feel of his hands on the bare flesh of her neck had almost overwhelmed her. She was grateful that her knees had not buckled or that she had not pressed herself against the Emperor's body. Whatever power had seized her had seemingly rendered her incapable of movement. She felt as though she was being held in place by this odd erotic energy.
The Emperor moved away, and Jordan came back to her senses slowly. That is, she could think clearly again, and she could move, but her body was still highly energized. It was not simple arousal; although that was a component of this what she was feeling. She was invigorated mentally and physically. She was simply feeling good!
The feeling stayed with her through the reception that followed. Jordan spent the next few hours being imaged for the various press agencies, posing with various government officials and showing the people of the Dynasty their newest heroine. She tried her best to live up to the people's expectations and not to think about her upcoming meal with the royal family. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jordan studied herself in the full length mirror. After she had returned to the opulent, spacious quarters she had been assigned within the Royal palace, she had bathed, changed into a fresh uniform and was assuring herself that it she was now perfectly attired. She had gone to the extra effort of having this uniform custom tailored. It consisted of a blue tunic and slacks with gold braids and trim, with the jacket worn over a white blouse. It displayed six years worth of service ribbons on the right breast. Regulations gave female personnel the option of wearing slacks or a skirt, but Jordan always opted for slacks. The standard issue black shoes had been shined to a mirror finish. She fashioned her hair into a loose pony tail, and completed the ensemble by placing her Medal of Valor around her neck, closing her eyes at the memory of the Emperor's hands caressing her neck.
