Split Purrsonalities

By William Mangieri

Herc Tom hasn’t been treated like much of a champion lately. Ever since returning from his latest escapades on Baast he’s been kept under house arrest. It doesn’t seem fair. He didn’t ask to be brainwashed by the evil Doctor Inga Quin, and besides – that’s all been cleaned out of his mind. And it’s not his fault that she made a homicidal clone of him. After all, he foiled the clone’s attempted assassination of both Ramses’ Emperor Octavio and Baast’s Supreme Leader Pang, didn’t he? Despite his heroics, he’s stuck at home, getting fat and unhappy, eager to get back to being the premier Champion of the Empire that he’s always been.
He finally has his chance. Pang and the enigmatic Colonel Tulin are coming to Ramses for a state visit, and they want Herc to be their host. Pang he could care less about, but the thought of Tulin has him purring. Maybe that brainwashing isn’t quite out of his system.
“Split Purrsonalities" is a speculative fiction novelette, the 12th of the “Herc Tom, Champion of the Empire" stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Mangieri
• Release date: Feb 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215859773

William Mangieri

William Mangieri is a karaoke junkie, former theater student, and recovered wargamer who spends as much time wondering "what if?" as "why not?". He writes from Texas, where he and his family live at the mercy of the ghost of a nine-pound westie.William writes mostly speculative fiction (that’s science fiction, fantasy and horror), although he also has a detective series with a soft sci-fi element (Detective Jimmy Delaney.) He completed writing his first novel (Swordsmaster) in 2019; prior to this, he has honed his skills on short fiction. He has been published in Daily Science Fiction and The Anarchist, and six of his stories have earned Honorable Mentions in the Writers of the Future contest.

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Split Purrsonalities

by William Mangieri

Copyright 2023 by William Mangieri

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Split Purrsonalities

It’s good to be Champion of the Empire.

I sat on my second floor balcony, getting some sun as I enjoyed poached salmon and surveyed the well-manicured grounds. My younger cubs prowled about in mock battles, or played hide and seek in the gardens. I could see all the way to the perimeter walls surrounding Championvilla. That was the name Butcher - The Admiral’s one-eyed second in command - had given my estate, and it had stuck. It was even more true when he and The Admiral had moved in, and the Ramses Empire’s only two Champions resided there. Of course, Championvilla lost its monopoly once Ambrose became the third Champion of the Empire.

No, The Lynx didn’t live there with us. It’s not as though we’re related, and neither of us would go out of our way to chum about with each other. Our few collaborations have been forced, with each of us trying to outdo the other. It’s in the nature of us Champions to be competitive. The Lynx deserved the honors bestowed on him, but the furball should remember that I was the first.

Not that it had mattered lately, my practically being under house arrest. I pushed the injustice of my situation out of my mind. No point getting hissy about it, Herc. The sunlight warmed my fur just enough to make me purr.

No need to go about saving the empire from the Baastards. Or the slobbering Canines. Or even the Rotter Dame and her minions. There were no new plots from former Empress Isabella. No one was begging me to save Ramses from anything. I could lay back and enjoy the sun and my suspension.

Unfair, really. It wasn’t my fault Inga Quin abducted and brainwashed me, and she didn’t make me cast that many doubts on Octavio’s succession to the imperial throne. And I wasn’t responsible when the clone Quin made of me almost assassinated the emperor.

I did stop Copy Cat, after all. I saved the emperor, as well as Supreme Leader Pang. That should have counted for something. I suppose it did – at least I wasn’t locked away in the depths of the Ministry. I could relish my time here with my pride.

Who should I spend time with first?

I could see my youngest mate hiding among the bushes below. Marpha had recaptured some of her kittenish nature playing with our cubs. She was fetching, but probably not in the right mood. She hadn’t been at all receptive when I tried to interrupt her games yesterday. Or the day before, or…

No use mewling over spilt milk. I would find one of my other mates.

I left the balcony and hunted along our mansion’s maze of corridors. An amazing aroma sidetracked me, and I wound up in the kitchen.

There was some clattering