"The flagship throne room, like the Invid castle and hives on Optera, was an organic chamber, so given over to the urgings of Protoculture that its very bulkheads and sensor devices resembled living systems of neural-tissue circuitry. Visceral greens and purples, they pulsed to rhythms dictated deep within the ship's animate drives. So, too, the contoured control couch itself, with its graceful curves, the slender arcing neck of its overhead sensor lamp, its proboscislike forward communicator tube. The Regent did not so much sit as reshape his being to the seat's demands.
On either side of him sat a Hellcat larger and more polished than any of the standard versions, with collars encrusted with gems handpicked from the spoils of a score of conquered worlds. Elsewhere, in cages, were living samples from those same worlds: sentient prisoners from Karbarra, Spheris, and the rest.
"We have searched, my lord," the trooper continued. "The Sensor Nebula registers no presence of the Flowers. None whatsoever."
"Fools!" muttered the Regent, canceling the transmission. He could hear his wife's laughter behind him.
"Congratulations, husband," the Regis mocked him from across the room. "Once again you have impressed us all with your supreme stupidity."
"I don't like your tone," the Regent said, turning to her.
One might have almost mistaken her for a humanoid life-form; certainly she was more that than the ursoid and vulpine beings that populated the Regent's personal zoo. But at the same time there was something ethereal and insubstantial about her, an inhumanness that lurked in the depths of her cobalt eyes. Twenty feet tall and slender, she clothed her completely hairless form in a red full-length robe and curious, five-fingered tasseled gloves. Four emerald-green sensor scarabs that might have been facelike adornments decorated the robe's bracelike collar and neck closure.
"I told you the Robotech Masters were too clever to hide the matrix in their own back yard."
"Silence, woman!" the Regent demanded, rising from the throne.
But the Regis stood her ground. "If you hadn't been so desperate to prove yourself a great warrior, we might have sent spies to learn where they've taken it."
The Regent looked at his wife in disbelief. "Are you forgetting who got us into this predicament in the first place? I'm not the one who fell under the spell of Zor and allowed him to steal our Flower of Life."
"Must you keep harping on that!" the Regis screamed, shutting her eyes and waving her fists in the air. "It happened a long time ago. And since then I have evolved, while you've remained the spoiled child you always were. You took his life; now you won't rest content until you've conquered his empire." She gestured offhandedly to the Regent's "pets" and caged life-forms. "You and your dreams of empire...Mark my words, husband, some day these beings will rise up to strike you down."
The Regent laughed. "Yes, you've evolved-into a pathetic imitation of the females of Zor's race."
"Perhaps so," she countered, arms akimbo. "But that's preferable to imitating the Masters' toys and bloodlust." She turned on her heel and headed for the door. "I'm returning to Optera."
"Stop! I forbid you to go!" the Regent told her, furious.
"Don't provoke me," she shouted from the doorway, "you spineless anachronism!"
"Wait!" the Regent demanded, cursing her. He whirled around as the door hissed closed, Tirol huge in the room's starboard viewports. "I'll show, you," he muttered under his breath. "Tirol will feel my potency...and I'll win back your love."
RN - THE SENTINELS: DEVIL'S HAND
This would be their last face to face. Further down, the Regis will try to justify her reasoning for finally "divorcing" her mate.
There are times where I really feel bad for the snail guy. The Regis did him dirty...and for him...she was the only girl in town.
LOVE SUCKS! LOL!
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