“A transmission from the frontier, Your Maleficence.” Toady sniveled. “Defiance Station is broken. Your armada of doomships crushed all opposition. The Periphery Alliance has surrendered unconditionally. Congratulations. You are the undisputed sovereign of the entire galaxy.”
Emperor Gorgalax shot to his feet, raised his fist, and boomed with menacing laughter. “At last! My plan is nearly complete.”
Full of pride and purpose, Gorgalax strode into the Palace of Oppression’s break room. There, taped to the refrigerator, was the document which had guided his every action over decades of conquest: his to-do list, written back during freshman year. Gorgalax felt his dark heart swell with satisfaction as he looked over entries on the list, each with a little box at the end.
Climb the ranks and become ultimate commander of the legions of Draconis Nine. Check.
Assemble the greatest fleet of warships the universe has ever seen. Check.
Conquer the galaxy, unifying all worlds under the titanium fist of Gorgalax.
Gorgalax savored the moment as he retrieved a pen from behind the coffee pot and checked the box with a dramatic flourish. Finally. His grand scheme was nearly complete. There was only one box left on the list. One item that remained unfinished.
Enjoy a peaceful life as supreme ruler of the galaxy. An unchecked box.
Easy. The conquering had been the hard part. Now all Gorgalax had to do was kick back and relax. Of course, that would have to wait for a little while. First there was the victory tour, the triumphal marches across the conquered worlds. The public executions of the enemy leaders. The doling out the governance of worlds as rewards for Gorgalax’s more capable minions. Gorgalax even considered tossing a couple planets to Toady, though he ultimately decided against it. He needed her. Toady was the only one who ever remembered to water the plants in the Palace of Oppression.
Those distractions from the list could only last so long. A solar year after the end of the conquest, Gorgalax was consumed by boredom and depression. Warfare had been Gorgalax’s passion. The mundane matters of galactic administration did nothing to capture his interest. After delegating nearly all such tasks to Toady and his other subordinates, Gorgalax was left with little to do but slouch sullenly on the Throne of Burning Skulls all day, silently seething at the thought of the unchecked box.
Toady hated to see the Emperor in such a state. “Perhaps a new hobby, Your Wrathfulness?”
Yes. A hobby. Those were the sorts of things people did when they wanted to enjoy their lives. “Very well. Bring forth the hobbies,” Gorgalax commanded.
Gorgalax began with a model train set from the hobby mines of Zaaltreb Three. This provided Gorgalax with some amusement, but things took a turn when he insisted on equipping the train with a weapon capable of destroying all the train’s theoretical foes. The dimensional rift generated during the weapons test swallowed the entire train set, along with the Palace of Oppression’s rec room.
Gorgalax then tried beekeeping. He enjoyed having an army of flying minions with weapons built into their very bodies. But when one of them stung him, Gorgalax decreed the entire apiary to be a ‘rebel stronghold’ and ordered it incinerated.
The knitting circle was a macabre debacle. So many lives lost. So many scarves unfinished.
The situation seemed hopeless. Gorgalax found himself in the break room again, glowering at the unchecked box. The Emperor had made no progress. Gorgalax pondered a course of action he had never before pondered: admitting defeat.
“A transmission from Zaaltreb Three, Your Ferociousness.” Toady interrupted Gorgalax’s ruminations. “There’s been a revolt in the hobby mines. The workers have seized control of a fleet of remote-operated model hoverships and used them to launch a daring daylight raid on the planetary armory. Reports say the rebels are led by a dashing and mysterious–“
That was all Gorgalax needed to hear. “Summon the doomships! Press the blood cape! Sharpen my pauldron spikes!” The Emperor shouted, full of vigor again. “We have a rebellion to crush!”
Toady blubbered with relief. “Yes, Sire!”
Gorgalax strode with purpose toward the war room. When he reached the door, he stopped to take one last look over his shoulder at the last entry on his list.
Enjoy a peaceful life as supreme ruler of the galaxy. An unchecked box.
Gorgalax smiled to himself. Perhaps some goals were better left unachieved.
About the author:
Douglas DiCicco is an author of speculative fiction living in Clovis, California. He has worked as an attorney, a teacher, and a renaissance faire performer. Follow on Twitter @CiccoDouglas
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