The Warlord's Path

by Michael Kotcher

  One of the bodyguards hissed in anger. “Speak to the Warlord with respect, worm!” His voice was monotone through the translator on his throat, but the volume of the words conveyed his ire. The man didn’t even look away to acknowledge the guard’s voice. It was possible that he didn’t even hear it.

  “I ssee you are getting better,” Verrikoth noted, gesturing.

  “A matter of perspective, Warlord,” the man said, a tinge of panic starting to make its way into his voice. “I need to get back to my ship.”

  Verrikoth watched him for a moment, seeing his struggles continue, but did nothing to aid him. After a long few seconds, he finally relented. “Let uss explore that, sshall we? Az I ssaid to you before, I need that sship in my employ, hauling cargoez between ssystemz. I waz impressed with you and your crewz abilitiez when we sstormed the vessel.”

  “You still managed to take my ship,” Robert replied, pulling hard on the shackles. It did nothing, but Verrikoth supposed it must make him feel good to do so, considering how much he was doing it.

  Verrikoth’s antennae raised and then lowered. “Of coursse we did. It waz only a matter of how long it would take War Leader Vok and hiz ssoldierz. But that doez not at all diminissh your work, or your drive.”

  Robert Darling ceased his struggles for a moment, his pain and fear were forgotten in his astonishment. “So what is it you want from me?”

  “I told you already. I want that sship hauling cargoes for me. And bassed on what I’ve sseen, you have the sskillz I want to ssee in one of my commanderz.”

  “I already turned you down,” the man said, pulling hard again on the wrist cuffs. He was no closer now to freeing himself than he was when he’d started.

  “That waz before. I want to convince you otherwize.” Verrikoth was starting to observe the man’s breathing speeding up, though it couldn’t be from his surroundings. “Cease your sstrugglez. You will not be harmed.”

  “I can’t,” the human replied. His voice was gaining a ragged edge. “I have to get out of here, get back to my ship. I can’t be off my ship. I need to be there.”

  Verrikoth buzzed for a moment. “Then the ssolution iz ssimple. Ssign on with my forcez. And once your treatmentss are completed, you will be allowed back on your sship for the jump to Tysseuss.”

  Still fighting, Robert looked back to him. “Tyseus? What’s there?”

  “It iz another of my ssysstemz,” the Warlord replied. “And it iz where the sseriouss refit to the vessel will be done. I want to have that sship at itss top form.” He paused for a moment, then asked the question. “Sso, what iz your answer? Do I have a captain for my newesst cargo sship? Or a prisoner to have to find a usse for?”

  Robert Darling continued to struggle, but then his face relaxed. His breathing, however, did not slow. “I will do it. Just let me go back to my ship.”

  “Excellent,” the zheen replied, whose mouthparts writhed in satisfaction. He gestured for the doctor to move in and perform his duties. “Sspeak with your crew. Find out how many are willing to join. I will be leaving thiss ssysstem within the next few dayz, once a few more tasskss are completed. I will sspeak with you again then.”

  “You have to let me go back!” Robert said, starting to sound more desperate.

  “You will,” Verrikoth told him, his voice surprisingly gentle. He gestured to the doctor, who jabbed the man in the neck with a hypo. His struggles ceased, but before he lost consciousness, he managed to keep his gaze locked on Verrikoth’s face. Then his eyes closed and he slept. “Well done. Keep him out for az long az you can.”

  “That was my intention, Warlord. He has severe agoraphobia, but specifically he needs to be aboard the freighter’s bridge.” The doctor waggled his antennae, showing confusion. “From what he told me, the former captain of the ship captured him as a slave when Darling was quite young, barely an adult in human terms. He had him chained to his console by a leg shackle and he lived, slept, and ate aboard the bridge. There is a small lavatory just off the bridge for him to perform bodily waste removal. He never left that compartment for over nineteen years. He wasn’t struggling with his bonds to get free of you, Warlord, and to find his long-lost home. He was fighting to get off the station and back to the bridge of that ship.”

  “No doubt,” the Warlord replied. “That iz why I want you to keep him ssedated az much az you can. No need to torture the man any more than iz necessary to ssave hiz life.”

  The doctor agreed. “Yes, my Lord. My thoughts exactly.”

  Verrikoth eyed the doctor for a long moment before turning back and heading for the exit. “I sshould hope sso, doctor. Keep me informed.”

  ((--[][]--))

  “It appearz that you and your new flight group work well together, Commander,” Verrikoth noted, hours later. The simulation was over, but the Centurion pilots had just completed a run against the starfighters of the Committee for Public Safety in the hot system. Not surprisingly, Sokann and his flight group had taken advantage of all of the after action reports, sensor data and the information provided by the newest member of the group, Flyer Pirk. The young zheen male was the only survivor of Gawilghur’s flight group, and as such, Sokann thought his experiences were invaluable.

  The small squadron consisted of seven ships, Sokann and the others flying the Centurion-As, while Flyer Pirk retained his Sparhawk. That surprised Verrikoth, who had actually gone so far as to ask it of his chief pilot. The Sparhawk was actually a superior machine to the Centurion-A: it had stronger shields, more and heavier weapons (both cannons and missiles), a more accurate targeting system, even better maneuvering thrusters. As Sokann had said long before, an excellent pilot could make up for the weaknesses in a ship, but put that same pilot in a superior vessel and that same pilot could cut a swath through his enemies.

  Sokann agreed and in any other situation, he would have taken the Warlord up on the idea of using the Sparhawk. But for the last several months, he and the rest of the flight group had trained extensively on the wedge-shaped Centurion-As. He’d grown to learn every nuance, every flaw, every strength. The ship was now an extension of himself. He barely had to think to make the Centurion-A dance. Eventually, yes, he would switch craft and begin the learning process anew on the Sparhawk, as would the rest of the squadron.

  But there was a second reason: Flyer Pirk. The zheen had somehow managed to stay alive and even score a few kills in an environment that would have killed even more experienced pilots. But, he’d no additional training once the rest of his flight was destroyed. He’d spent the rest of the trip back from Base Alpha by himself, speaking only with the crew of the surviving gunboat, who had been ecstatic at surviving. Pirk meanwhile had fallen into a depression. Survivor’s guilt, mostly, but also sadness at his comrades’ deaths. However, once arrived back in Amethyst and after he met back up with Sokann, bringing him into the small squadron boosted his spirits considerably. Also, by keeping him in the superior vessel, it allowed him to keep up with the more experienced pilots.

  “Thank you, my Lord,” Sokann replied, pleased. He removed his breather and hopped down to the deck of Nemesis’s hangar. He gave the ship a quick pat before he “Everything is coming together. I like the way we’re meshing as a group and keeping Flyer Pirk with me as my wingman gives me the extra protection of his guns and allows me to keep a close watch on him. Win-win.”

  “Indeed,” he buzzed. “I like what I ssaw and it sseemz all of you are familiar with your new sshipss.”

  “Yes, my Lord, we are.” Sokann hummed in pleasure. “We need more working up time, especially Pirk, but we have several weeks at least before we’re in Tyseus, and then from there to the next world upon the path. Are we to come back here, my Lord?”

  Verrikoth shook his head, antennae curling. “No, not unless ssomething dire happenz. We will bypasss Amethysst and move on to the Red Ssphinx Worldz, sspecifically Caridossia.”

  “Caridosia,” Sokann repeated. “I’ve never been there before.”

  “
Not one of the more pleazant worldz in my territory,” Verrikoth admitted. “A great deal of mining and heavy indusstriez on that world.”

  The pilot nodded in understanding. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Verrikoth chittered in laughter. “Az am I, Commander. It haz been more than a year for me to be away from the northern ssection of my territory. It will be good to vizit and ssee how they are progressing.”

  ((--[][]--))

  Robert Darling hustled through the corridors of TrinaMarie as fast as he could. The passageways were vaguely familiar, as though he remembered them in a dream. He knew this ship, its corridors, but only through the view of the security displays. He kept going and without a wrong turn, made it back to his bridge. Hands shaking, breathing ragged, he all but collapsed on the command console. It took him nearly a minute of sucking in cleansing breaths for his blood pressure to normalize. Once it did, he stood up straight and surveyed the compartment.

  The bridge was largely unchanged, though he did note that two of the illumination panels in the ceiling had been replaced, bathing the bridge in more light than he ever remembered. After staying several days aboard the station, his eyes were accustomed to the higher light levels; but it seemed harsh and grating here on TrinaMarie. He found himself blinking and squinting a great deal. It would take some getting used to, or perhaps it might require some fixing.

  The communicator flashed red. Without even thinking, Robert pressed the key, and a display appeared, Verrikoth’s insectoid visage looked back at him. “Happy to be home?”

  “It is very good to be back,” Robert admitted, his left hand gripping the edge of the well-worn console as though he was afraid it would vanish.

  “Excellent. My engineerz inform me that the power ssysstemz and reactorz have received a quick and dirty overhaul.” The zheen’s voice held mild amusement. “Thiss I am told, meanz you sshould be able to reach the top of the Orange level of the hypersspace rainbow. The trip, therefore, to Tysseuss sshould be forty-one dayz in hyperspace.” He paused to see if Darling understood.

  The man nodded. “Faster than I’m used to. Normally a journey of that length took seventy, eighty days.”

  “Indeed. I expect to ssee you pulled up to the sshipyard in fifty-five dayz,” the Warlord told him. His antennae swirled. “Plenty of time. The Yard Ssupervizor will be waiting for your arrival for the full overhaul.”

  Robert swallowed hard. “But the ship is working so well now,” he protested.

  Verrikoth hissed. “Barely adequate. No, that sship haz potential to be much more and I won’t have it wassting time dawdling around the sspacelanez.”

  Robert nodded, the ice in his gut starting to bother him less. “I see. Tyseus then?”

  Verrikoth nodded. “Coordinatess and proper recognition codez have already been uploaded. All you need to do, Sshotgun Bob, iz get there.”

  “And how many of your soldiers will stay aboard to ensure I get there?” He couldn’t keep a sour tone out of his voice.

  Another hiss. “None. I trusst that you’ll make the right decision for yoursself, your sship and crew.” His tone darkened. “And what would happen sshould you try and ssteal from me.”

  Robert sighed and then nodded. And there was the threat. “Understood. Once the engineers leave us, we will head for Tyseus.”

  “Excellent,” Verrikoth said, gracious in victory. “Good journey, perhaps I will see you in Tyseus when you get there.” And the call ended.

  Robert felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and looked over to see Megan standing there. The medics had done wonders for her; she seemed more alive than before. Her posture, stooped from all the beatings, was straight now, her face held less of a haunted look. Her movements and bearing were smooth now as she was no longer in constant pain from past injuries.

  “I know, it’s a strange feeling,” Robert replied to the look she gave him. “But looking at these displays, things are working so much better than before.” He glanced around the compartment, before seeing her smirk. “Round up the crew. We have to get ready to depart.”

  But Megan shook her head, then mimed holding a pistol, with her forefinger as the gun. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  It didn’t even occur to Robert that Megan still wasn’t speaking. That was just the way she was. He nodded. “Good idea. Check and see if any of the weapons are aboard, but don’t get your hopes up. I suspect they took them all.”

  She poked him hard in the breastbone, but he just scowled right back at her. “I’ll do what I can, but it's my job to make sure we get to Tyseus, what with enough food, fuel, water, and air. You’re in charge of security. Weapons are your responsibility.”

  Megan bared her teeth, but then turned and stepped off the bridge. Robert watched her leave, then went back to his console, pulling up diagnostic feeds. Once he did some preliminary checks, he would start bringing up the navigation displays and begin plotting a course to Tyseus.

  He wiped a hand across the non-existent sweat on his brow. The bridge was pleasantly cool and comfortable, not sweltering and hot like he was so used to. He did have to admit, however, that while the Environmental department was good at scrubbing the air of particulates and CO2, they could do little about the radiation that the damaged reactor and frayed conduits used to pump into the ship. It was probably the radiation that was in large part responsible for the heat, or the body’s response to what it thought was heat.

  Robert shook his head. No time for that now. No binary decision: get the cursory examination of the main systems done, then plot a course for Tyseus. Get to work.

  ((--[][]--))

  The flotilla all jumped for Tyseus as a group, but Nemesis and Kopesh increased their speed to their best cruising velocity, as Verrikoth was anxious to get moving and dawdling around in the Green level of the rainbow wouldn’t do. V’ka’sith on Gawilghur and the corvettes would arrive in Tyseus days later, but Verrikoth would read Hestian in on the plan so that he could take over when the rest of his command arrived.

  “My Lord, it is good to see you back in Tyseus,” Hestian said in greeting, a few days after the pair of ships’ arrival in the star system. Ganges was moving in an orbital patrol around the shipyard, on a path no larger than ten light seconds’ distance from the structure at any point. The yards had managed to churn out another four corvettes but had since slowed production as the last of the available crews for the vessels had finally dried up. The heavy cruiser in the dock was about eighty percent completed; just waiting for the weapons and sensors to be fully installed and integrated. Once that was completed, the ship would be ready for a shakedown cruise.

  “It iz good to be back, Commander,” Verrikoth replied happily. “And it pleazez me to ssee the yard in ssuch good sshape.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” the lupusan said, looking pleased with himself. “Aside from the new cruiser, the last of the new ships have rolled off the line, though staffing does remain a serious problem. These last few corvettes to be finished area fully crewed and we managed another fifty personnel each for Ganges and Karimnagar, but we are now officially tapped out. Oh, but not before getting another score of the gunboats operational. We have half of them crewed. I notice that Nemesis seems to be missing her complement of the small ships.”

  “We left ssome at Amethysst; the resst were losst in battle.” Verrikoth’s explanation was clipped, almost uncaring.

  Hestian nodded. “Understood, my Lord. Well, Nemesis can bring her complement back up to full, should you desire it.”

  “I do sso dezire,” the zheen replied.

  The lupusan looked to the side and gestured to someone outside of the vid pickup. “Putting the call into the yard now, my Lord.”

  “Very well. Now, we have ssome itemz to disscuss.”

  The wolf looked slightly put out but did not voice his thoughts. “Do you want me to shuttle over?”

  Verrikoth considered it for all of a second before deciding. “No, that will not be necessary. A virtual conference wil
l ssuffice.”

  Ten minutes later, the Warlord face his warship commander across a display in the conference room. Hestian must have adjourned to Ganges’ own conference room, and he was settling himself comfortably in his seat.

  “Firsst, tell me about the alien gravity drone you recovered,” Verrikoth prompted.

  Hestian sighed. “We recovered it with no trouble, my Lord. Got it back here only a few days after you left. I handed it over to the techs, who went over it with the finest-grain sensors we had.” He flicked his ears. “Then they went the brute-force method and hit it with the most powerful sensors we have. Then they got out plasma torches and sliced the thing open.”

  “And?” Verrikoth asked, trying to keep his growing disappointment from showing.

  “And nothing, my Lord,” Hestian said with a bark. “Inside the shell was a worm-like creature, long since dead and desiccated from the vacuum damage. There was no technology inside. Nothing. Just the worm.”

  “I assume they dissected it?”

  “Yes, my Lord and they found nothing of any use. The creature had sustained a massive amount of damage from the rock that struck the tug, and so far the techs haven’t been able to make much headway with it. They’re continuing to study the creature, but they’re not optimistic.”

  Verrikoth gave a very low hiss, flicking his antennae in annoyance. “It waz worth a try. Have them continue their work, but give regular weekly progress reportss. If in a month, they sstill have nothing new, put it aside.”