Invincible: Escape from Viltrum

From the moment of her birth, in cycle 4170 A.U., her destiny had been charted with the precision of a stellar map, with the purpose of surviving the tide of forced replacements imposed by the Yellow Caste itself.

Given the weakness of her family, they spared no effort in devising a plan of alliances that would allow them to halt and stabilize the assimilation of their own caste by the Yellow one.

As a Class Eight Viltrumite, one of the highest genetic classifications within the Viltrumite Empire, she had ensured the permanence of her predecessors within the political council, eager to once again take part in controlling the gears of the imperial bureaucracy.

Her lineage, impeccably pure, placed her among the elite of the elite, even above those who merely commanded armies.

She was part of the circle that would orchestrate the fate of entire worlds from the imperial summit, a colossal structure erected at the administrative heart of Viltrum, whose architectural proportions and symbolism exalted the glory of their own race, superior to every other existing throughout the galaxy.

Kiliah-ar had been raised to understand the fundamental truth of the power placed in her hands.

Instead of using her fists, her superior strength like the brutes of the military, her true power lay in the subtlety of connections.

A single favor could secure decades of loyalty. A word whispered into the right ear could bring down the mightiest of generals if she so desired.

An alliance was a strategic move upon the Empire's great board.

That was how the Red Caste functioned, that was how they avoided a swift extinction like the one that had befallen the traitorous caste.

But she had never expected to become a mother, not even in her most horrifying nightmares.

Then, when the Imperial High Council ordered her to breed with General Vorath; a low-class soldier, an upstart who had risen through merit rather than lineage, Kiliah-ar felt as though the universe itself had insulted her.

She still did not know who had been responsible, whom she had offended, but she had sworn that one day she would avenge that humiliation.

Fortunately, it had not been an imperial marriage, only a mandatory reproductive assignment. Sooner or later that day would come, but she believed that, with a few favors, she could postpone the inevitable for at least another 100 or 120 orbits (one thousand two hundred years).

Things being as they were, she clenched her teeth and carried out what had been entrusted to her, for it was the only option; the Empire's directives were not to be questioned.

However, resentment took root within her like a poisonous plant.

Vorath was a brute, a field soldier from whose body the stench of blood never seemed to fade; she found him as repulsive as she found him loathsome.

He did not even understand politics, true politics, and his ambition was so pyrrhic and foolish that she simply found it contemptibly pathetic.

In fact, she believed that Vorath was nothing more than a usurper of positions who did not understand his true place, and that, to begin with, not for all the glory and feats brought to the Empire should one be decorated as a general (not that such a title was of great importance to her). Vorath was a soldier, nothing more and nothing less. His life was to serve as an attack dog, and he should be grateful for it, for that was what he had been created for.

Once again, Vorath was nothing more than a brute without a future. And she had been forced to reproduce with such a thing.

But despite that setback, she believed she could turn the tables by absorbing that brute's faction through the child himself as part of a family pact. In time, her own son could serve as an intermediary capable of securing her a few attack dogs for her own interests.

But when Korr-Add was born, she understood that she had fallen very low.

After he was classified as Class 15, a mediocre classification, barely sufficient not to be considered elite material (military, as if to make matters worse), Kiliah-ar knew that her failure would have sunk any possibility of advancing her own career with such a stain upon it.

She had placed her prestige, her lineage, her future, in the hands of a false inferior general who had brought about the culmination of an unworthy bloodline.

The whispers of her peers came soon enough, just as unpleasant.

A Class Eight lineage wasted on a Class Fifteen offspring.

The shame coursed through her veins like poison.

The looks and remarks of contempt during the gatherings.

Were like knives that sliced through her skin and left the wound of her failure wide open.

And it was all Vorath's fault.

He had been responsible for that unworthy bloodline, he had ruined her reputation, he had stained her lineage.

Kiliah-ar did not think twice and pulled the necessary strings to place that false general within a pacification squadron, where she hoped he would rot for the rest of his life, with no chance of continuing to subvert the noble system of their own race merely by annihilating a civilization.

She decided to completely detach herself from the upbringing of the offspring; she did not even deign to see him a single time. She probably would have killed him, and because of the decree under which he had been conceived, that offspring was untouchable, for now.

She felt a measure of relief after signing the natal disassociation documents, so the child would be raised by Vorath; she would have nothing to do with that failure.

The cycles passed, and Kiliah-ar continued her political career, though without the momentum she had previously possessed, owing to the recent setback of the controversial offspring she had produced.

Then, without either her or the Regent himself expecting it, came the news that Korr-Add, the offspring she had abandoned, the failure she had repudiated, had become a hero of the Empire.

He had thwarted a Lithari rebellion, saved the Dorymathos, and, more importantly, had drawn the attention of the Great Regent Thragg himself.

Her offspring, the one she had deemed unworthy, had been promoted to the Emperor's faction?

Being only a Class 15?!

Kiliah-ar felt something she had not experienced in entire orbits, a spark of opportunity.

Fate, in its most bewildering irony, was offering her a second chance.

If she managed to associate herself with the offspring's success, she could reap the fruits of his ascent. The rewards for one's descendants; territories, positions, influence, and a hundred other promotions. All of them would be hers.

But there was one colossal obstacle that made her grind her teeth. Kiliah-ar had signed the maternal disassociation, relinquishing all rights over her offspring. To claim the benefits of his success, she needed to revoke that decision.

And to do that, she needed Vorath's consent.

The mere idea turned her stomach, it almost made her vomit.

Vorath, that brute, the one responsible for her shame.

Now she had to beg him, negotiate with him, crawl before him.

To owe him a favor.

In her office, Kiliah-ar sat in her white metal chair, her gaze fixed upon the stars visible through the window. Her right hand tapped against the surface of the desk, ignoring the nervous tic she could barely control.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, seeing no other alternative.

Politics was like that.

To reach the summit, one had to dirty one's hands.

One had to lick boots, do favors, grant concessions.

Kiliah-ar had to swallow her pride and negotiate with the man she despised the most.

"Damn you, Vorath," she whispered, her teeth grinding with contempt. "I swear you're going to pay for this."