"I..." Kawathra trembled, mouth opening and closing.

  The Emperor of Earth was here, finally in her grasp and yet she was utterly powerless to do anything about it. A single word from him to the Marshal would unmake her… permanently. A bullet to the head from a non-Crystalloid gun. Once she came to, the Serval would say just a few words and Kawathra would stop existing, stop being herself, maybe even stop liking data charts!

  A most abominable fate!

  The scales were tipped against her to an insane degree. How did the Emperor manage to twist reality to trap her so? How did she start with a potential consort sitting safely inside a Corpse Seeker and end up with nothing at all in less than five minutes, on the ground with her Division's Marshal pointing a gun at her head?

  Kawathra looked at the Emperor's gesture of the offered hug trap, then at his face, drinking in every detail, her mind working overtime, madly estimating probabilities, overheating at the implications of it all.

  Another impossible data point presented itself to her.

  A kobold could not be bound to two Masters! Or could he? Maybe he wasn’t a kobold at all. Maybe Princess Aquillianne and Beta-Knight Galateya were somehow the kobolds in this equation? Kobolds to a living god, the local focal point of combined human belief, the psychic ruler of this deceptively primitive, safe-seeming world.

  Something snapped within the prad magpie girl. A decision made, the weight of losing everything versus bowing to the local Emperor. Time slowed as a thousand evaluations rushed through her head all fractions of her reaching the same inescapable conclusion.

  Slowly, as if moving through thick water, she reached out and took his hand. The moment their skin touched, she felt it… a resonance she couldn't quantify, couldn't chart, couldn't reduce to data points.

  "I'm sorry," she breathed, and then suddenly she was moving forward, falling into his offered embrace. Her feathered hands wrapped around him as she pressed her feathered head against his chest, tears flowing freely, dropping to her knees. "I'm so very, very sorry. I… I was just following orders, I didn't think about—I didn’t know!"

  "Shh," The Emperor of Humanity said gently, one hand stroking her feathery head. "It's okay. You're scared. Death is scary, especially when you've already lost pieces of yourself to it."

  "I’m so sorry, your grace," Kawathra sobbed into his gray, perfectly mundane shirt, confessing to her crimes, unable to stop herself in the commanding presence of a god who could unmake her with a mere word. "The things I've done, the data I've compiled that's been used to—to hurt so many humans on so many worlds! In my obedience to the Frontenachii… I’ve optimized suffering. I saw it all as just numbers, just efficiency, but it's not, it's not just data, it's lives, and I—"

  "You're recognizing that now, right, Kawthy?" he asked simply.

  “Yes, yes!” Kawathra rapidly nodded. “I... I've always known, but I could do nothing about it! I won’t do it again! I had to obey, had to, or my soul would catch fire!”

  “And now?”

  “Now I recognize your authority and submit to it!”

  "That's what matters in the end. That you turn your future away from disaster. That you become more, take a step forward." The Emperor smiled.

  "I am in your excellency's debt," Kawathra whispered, the formal words tumbling out like a rock avalanche. "Whatever you require, whatever data you need, I—"

  "I don't need your debt," he interrupted gently. "Just... maybe help us instead of data-hunting us? My Lady Galateya is trying to do something different here. Something better. She could use a Datamancer who understands that people aren't just statistics."

  Marshal Nexxali watched the exchange with narrowed eyes, tapping her gun against her belt. "Heh. Did you just... freakin' hug the bird into submission?"

  "I hugged a frightened person who needed comfort," the Lord of Earth corrected, still holding the trembling magpie. "There's a difference."

  Nexxali bent down to the Datamancer, sniffing her face. “You know something, don’t you?”

  “I know many things, but I will reveal nothing!” Kawathra shook her head. “Nothing at all! I… I understand the consequences of… of disobeying my Liege! I… I submit myself to his Lordship as a willing hostage so that he may do with me as he wishes and pray that… that he takes mercy upon me.”

  “Oh?” Nexxali purred. “Aren’t we suddenly full of cooperation? What of your desire to serve… what’s her face?”

  “C-comander Sillicia isn’t my dragon,” Kawathra revealed. “I signed a… a contract with Agent Langalirri that bound me to the North Acadian Frontenachii Omnicorp, not to… to a particular commander!”

  “Really?” the serval asked.

  "Yes! I serve the fleet itself!" Kawathra declared. "Not any individual commander. According to Frontenachii Colonial Regulation 772, Subsection J, Paragraph 19-B, a fleet asset may submit to temporary custody of a recognized planetary authority during active negotiations to prevent diplomatic incidents!"

  Nexxali's golden eyes flashed, her hand squeezing tighter onto her gun.

  "Very obscure regulation," Kawathra clarified rapidly, feathers trembling. "From the Second Mellaxian Accord event. Rarely invoked!"

  She mentally evaluated herself.

  [Heart rate: 247 bpm - dangerously elevated for Pradavarian physiology]

  [Stress hormones: 340% above baseline]

  [Probability that Ashcroft Clifford is the Emperor of Earth: 99.97% and rising]

  [Probability of permanent death of self if revealing this: 97.2%]

  "Don’t worry your ginger head about it, Nexy," the Emperor said. "Give me control over the Corpse Seeker, yeah?”

  “Sure." The Serval yawned, relaxing her grip on the gun. “Corpse Seeker 881-Kappa. Obey Ashcroft Clifford's verbal commands. Got it?”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Acknowledged,” the Corpse Seeker flashed.

  Kawathra choked. The Emperor really had their Marshall deep in his palm.

  How?! Did he use his incredible psychic powers to mentally dominate her?! Was she his kobold too?!

  “Oh, and release Stormy from the order to sit down or whatever," the Emperor added.

  “Aight,” the cat prad said. “Stormy, you’re free to do whatever.”

  Kawathra's mind fragmented into parallel processing streams again:

  [Stream 1: Does the Emperor know about Stormy's potential consort arrangement? Can he read my thoughts?! If you can read this, I submit! Please don't perma-kill me, Emperor!]

  [Stream 2: The Emperor is protecting the local human. A pattern consistent with the Emperor's lore behavior.]

  [Stream 3: He's giving orders to a Marshal Commandant like it's nothing! It’s very possible that he can unbind the charmed warrior barbarian himself, but he’s CLEARLY showing ME how deep the Marshal is in his palm!]

  She watched as the Emperor pulled car keys from his pocket, tossing them to Stormy with unexpected familiarity. "Think you can drive a Cherokee?"

  "I... yes, I can drive," Stormy managed, catching the keys and standing up. “Where to?”

  [Analyzing social dynamics: Emperor trusts a random human with his vehicle.]

  [Correction: Not random! StormoLyx provided vampire intel.]

  [Sub-analysis: Emperor clearly maintains a vast, hidden network of local human informants.]

  [Terrifying conclusion: This was orchestrated. The meeting at the pub. The vampire hunt. All of this was…]

  "Just up the hillside. Galateya, Nexy, you’re with Stormy. Follow us to my house then," the Emperor said, then turned to her. "Kawathra, you're with me. We need to talk."

  Her ring-wrapped talons clicked involuntarily against each other as she stood, following him to the Corpse Seeker Kappa.

  “Seeker Kappa, stairwell to the cockpit,” the Emperor ordered and the Corpse Seeker manifested stairs, the crystalline materia parting to create a door.

  [His familiarity with the Omnid tech is shocking, but expected. 99.4214% probability that the Emperor has intel on all pradavarian Scrut planetfall Divisions.]

  As they climbed inside, the Datamancer’s split mind ran another hundred probability scenarios, each one more dire than the last.

  The moment the Seeker's walls sealed them in privacy, she dropped to her knees again.

  “So, Datamancer Kawthy, what have you figured out?” he asked.

  "You're… the Emperor of Earth," she confessed. "The sound modulation concealed your voice resonance, but the speech patterns, the inflection on certain words, the 82.7% correlation in shoulder-to-neck-to-head ratio despite the attempted visual obfuscation..." She trembled. "I've analyzed a recording of your conversation with Commander Sillicia 1,847 times. It's you!”

  “Does anyone else know?”

  “No, my Liege!"

  He settled onto the organic couch, studying her with deceptively ordinary orange-hazel eyes. "And what are you going to do with this information, Kawathra?"

  [Option 1: Report to Commander Sillicia - Perma-death. Probability of survival: 0.0001%]

  [Option 2: Attempt blackmail - Perma-death. Probability of survival: 0.00001%]

  [Option 3: Submit completely - Probability of survival: 74.3%]

  [Option 4: Offer strategic alliance - Probability of survival: 61.2%]

  "I bow to your authority," she said, choosing the optimal path. "Your planetary sovereignty supersedes my fleet assignment. The Frontenachii Princess chose you as her planetary Administrator. Legate Ixthia accepted Knight Galateya's blood bond to you, an unprecedented situation of two highborn Frontenachii Omnids blood and soul tied to one human! By every metric that matters, you ARE the legitimate Lord of Earth!"

  She prostrated herself before the Emperor of Humanity, blinking tears out of her eyes. The magpie Datamancer was terrified that she would lose connection to all of her charts, get sheared from the Third Fleet Weapon-Net with a single, absolute psychic-power enforced Word.

  She pulled up a holographic display with trembling talons, showing her calculations. "Opposing you would be... incredibly suboptimal. You command our Marshal Commandant and orchestrated the discovery of the vampire nest to elevate Division 881's ranking. You're playing multidimensional… chess while the rest of us are learning checkers." Kawathra tried to complement the local walking god.

  "That's a lot of clever assumptions," he said mildly.

  "Statistical certainties," she nodded, her mind racing through more data. "You needed Division 881 to succeed. You desire to protect Knight Galateya from Commander Sillicia. You probably have Princess Aquillianne hidden somewhere and you’ve scrambled her Astral signature to—"

  She stopped, seeing his expression.

  [Threat assessment: MAXIMUM] [Recommended action: STOP RAMBLING!]

  "I'm… simply very good at pattern recognition," she said weakly. "It's... it's what I do. I understand patterns, interpret data presented to me."

  "Yes," he agreed. "Which is why I need to know: are you going to be a problem, or are you going to help us?"

  "Help!" she squeaked immediately. "Definitely help! My calculations show Earth's best probability for optimal outcomes involves your continued authority! As the divinely-ordained Planetary Lord you’re… already likely in communication with one or more Legates, discussing terms. Beta-Knight Galateya, as an appreciator of justice, represents a 73% probability of more ethical, collaborative governance. Her engagement bond to you makes sense. You represent..." she paused, running more calculations, "No, you are… a human who can stand as equal to Omnids. Or even… even above them if you are capable of concealing your location from ten thousand planetfall Scruts!"

  “Have you encountered others like me then?” he asked.

  “We have,” Kawathra bobbed. “Divine tier Archmagi. Immortal cultivators. Lords of vast planetary Empires with whom concessions had to be made by the Legates. You’ve hidden yourself well from our Scruts! The Admiral made a terrible mistake dropping a moon piece on your planet. It is highly likely that… the Frontenachii will offer me to you as an asset, if you simply ask for my life as payment for the damage to your world and satellite. Why haven’t you revealed your vast psychic powers to the fleet command, my Lord?”

  “I have my reasons,” the Emperor shrugged.

  “Reasons?” She tilted her head sideways.

  “I wish to see how far the stupid cryptids can dig themselves a grave on my world.”

  Kawathra gulped, reassessing the situation with newly revealed information and referencing what she knew.

  The Immortal Cultivator Lords of the God-beast populated Earth 99-24-12 were powerful, but they were foolish, flaunting their invincibility and showing their prowess out in the open. The Emperor of this world was a clever, dangerous enemy for the Omnids, was playing a dastardly game of cat and mouse, planning to trap the fleet command into making mistakes, to boggle them down on this world. Maybe, most or some of his powers were limited to surface of his world, bound and reinforced by some concealed god-engine, like the invincibility of the Cultivators from 99-24-12?

  Undoubtedly, the Emperor Of Earth despised the human-art in the halls of the Frontenachii starships and sought to free the souls trapped within.

  A trap! The vast scope of the Emperor’s trap was rising dramatically. Would the Omnids even leave this Earth? The safe, muted Astral… Was all a vast deception?

  "I offer myself as your intelligence asset," Kawathra declared with another bow. "My data processing capabilities, my understanding of fleet logistics, my ability to obscure inconvenient information—all at your disposal, my Liege!"

  “Your blood contract permits such betrayal of your owners?”

  “Not betrayal! Cooperation! Many sign their souls away without modifying the blood contract with the Frontenachii agent. I’ve included many clauses, loopholes and future outcome probabilities. The Frontenachii know that powers greater than them exist and that agreements must be made with such for the greater good of their Omnicorp progress. I have concluded that it is imperative for me to spend as much time as possible by your side, serving you and diplomatically attempting to guide you towards a situation that is advantageous to you and also to the Frontenachii Omnicorp interests. As long as you are satisfied, maybe the Third Fleet won’t be turned into scrap metal!"

  The Emperor leaned back, evaluating her with dark intelligence that made her feathers ripple.