--
The burning, bloodied surface of Qujaga, an otherwise obscure water planet.
Three cycles ago.
This was, by no means, a good day.
Darroch, and the squad of Scarrans which he led, had been repeatedly repulsed from the temple by nothing more than a few pathetic Sebaceans.
He was most definitely going to suffer for this. Failure would not be tolerated, least of all from one in such a position as his.
Silently howling with rage, he picked up the remaining Charrid, snapped it's neck violently, and threw it's corpse into a half-demolished wall.
He had to DO something. Something to regain enough honour to keep him alive.
Striding uncaringly round a corner, the sight that he was confronted with surprised even him. The dead, Scarrans and Charrids all, littered the street. Not one enemy appeared to have fallen. No Sebacean dead, none of their deceptive allies.
However, at the epicentre of this destruction, bleeding heavily, lay something far more useful to him.
'Hah…I may even get a promotion out of this…' Scarrans have a terrible smile.
--
The Most Hallowed Imperial Capital of the Most Beneficent Dominar, Rygel XVI of the Most Glorious Hynerian Empire.
Present Day
Rygel lay back in his bath and sighed. The softly bubbling, green tinged water relieved the aches and pains completely.
He deserved this. It was a difficult job being a Dominar after all. That's why only those of the true royal bloodline were up to the task.
And that's exactly what he told Bishan (the pretender) when he occasionally went to visit him in his dank cell.
However, one of the unfortunate side effects of bathing in complete silence was the fact that it allowed him to dwell upon the past. The friends whom he hadn't seen for so long. Just because they weren't nearly as royal as him, it didn't mean that he wasn't allowed to miss them…they had uses after all. How people would have feared him with someone like Crichton at his side…or Aeryn…but especially..NO.
Why should he, in his position as ruler of an empire, have to think about them?
He tried to reason that Crichton and Aeryn were happy, they had a family (none knew that better than he) and they'd left on Moya, saying something about seeing more of the stars.
Chiana had somehow settled down, living a quite idyllic life on one of the nearby worlds. He'd ordered a luxurious villa built, just to show his limitless generosity.
Noranti, the three-eyed, mad crone that she was, had been granted her own place as royal physician (not that he really trusted her not to poison him; more that he trusted her not to try to poison him.). His people had reason the later rejoice in this decision, as she had performed miracle cures upon multiple outbreaks of Hynerian dermaphollica during her time here.
But all of this was just denying the existence of his own debt.
Not only as a dominar, but as a person, he regretted owing his life to someone.
Someone he could never repay.
Ka D'argo. The bravest warrior he had ever met. One of the few beings he had ever respected (though that might have had something to do with his size: he could have crushed him with a boot if the idea so struck him.), and certainly the only one to whom he acknowledged that greatest of debts. Life itself.
A last stand, on some backwater planet. A dying Luxan screaming defiance into the night, as surely with his voice as with his weapons. A glorious death.
He hoped his own end would be that good. That useful.
Finally, lying back in his own jewel encrusted bath, he felt what no dominar should ever feel.
Regret.
--
The space lanes around Hyneria
Present Day
The ship floated silently in orbit around the opulent throne-world, entirely out of fuel.
Sikozi gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. If she never had to sit through two hours with Grunschlk again, it would be far too soon. At least the diagnosian's voice, when he used it, wasn't as grating as this primitive's mindless gibbering.
It had been far too long since she had been involved in an intelligent conversation.
For the best part of Three cycles, they had been shunted from planet to planet, trying to find a place that would accept them. Unfortunately, almost every planet seemed to have considerably tightened their borders since the Peacekeeper Wars, and they had been forcefully sent on their way several times.
Now their options had dwindled, and Sikozu, on the spur of the moment, had diverted them towards this particular planet, capital of the Hynerian empire, and hopefully, a reunion with her erstwhile ally.
Hopefully before he answered the question of 'why should I let you stay' on his own, their gift should persuade him that they were definitely loyal subjects.
Personally, she couldn't stand Hynerians, hideous little amphibians that they were, but anywhere was better than the vacuum of space.
The ship rocked as the orbital docking clamps engaged, and dragged it down towards the surface, and, with any luck, an audience with the Dominar.
--
Qujaga
Darroch grunted as he and his men dragged their heavy prize through the streets, back towards their landing craft. They would be well rewarded for this discovery. The emperor would certainly be pleased.
Privately, he praised the gods that the emperor had seen fit to equip his officers with the fluid form of Scarran preservative gas. This subject would have been difficult to manhandle back to the ship without it.
Finally, after a good deal of effort, the body was stowed safely away aboard the transport ship, and their success was assured.
Ordering the remaining men into a line, he informed them of the events that had lead to the capture of this great enemy. How he himself had beaten it in personal combat, before injecting the preserving agent into it's neck.
His troops nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly to what they had apparently seen.
His second in command, dying on his feet, was the first warning that anything was amiss. It was also the last. Almost as one, Darroch and the rest of his Scarran brethren fell to their knees, clawing hopelessly at their chests. At the vital heat glands that had so fatally ceased to function.
The last thing he saw was the blood seeping into his eyes.
--
Hyneria
The Imperial Palace
The throne room itself was immense.
Banners hung from ceiling to floor, and everyone from dignitaries to slaves scampered around the great hall, ensuring that their lord's every whim was law, and trying desperately to gain favour.
And in the middle of it all…Rygel, sitting on his throne, the size and shininess of which was only surpassed by that of his ego.
At the moment however, he appeared to be very uncomfortable.
What was that treacherous bioloid trelk doing here, of all places?
The afterlife was surely more suitable, considering the fact that she was supposed to have been cold and dead back on the Qujaga. That was bioloids for you he guessed, just unreliable.
And Grunschlk, he'd just gotten annoying. Maybe by this point, someone or something just didn't want to take him to the other side. He was certainly ugly enough for that to be true.
The dominar was startled out of his reverie by the sounding of the announcing trumpet. The new arrivals entered, the Diagnosian looking wary of all the staring eyes, as his assembled court observed the visitors. Sikozu felt no such concerns, and strode up the regal carpet, stopping only at the yellow line that marked the respectful distance that they must maintain. Grunschlk hovered somewhere in between.
As was his prerogative, he began 'What in dren are you doing here?'
Sikozu was privately glad that he'd avoided the more detailed question.
'We seek asylum, Dominar Rygel' She had carefully considered this meeting.
He raised his eyebrows 'and what will I gain in return for this great favour?'
She smiled, as did Grunschlk. The Diagnosian placed his palms together and bowed.
'How about the opportunity to be reunited with old friends?'
Rygel was feeling increasingly indignant, but calmed down when they began to explain.
--
The surface of Arnessk
One half-cycle earlier
The surface of Arnessk seemed to vibrate with the work of the construction.
The new temple would be finished within the next few months, and this would serve as a haven for the species previously considered extinct. The species that might hold the future of all peoples in their hands.
Still, despite the promised sanctuary, the monumental noise of the building work was intolerable.
Well at least for the Eidelons.
An apparently lonely figure sat on the sands, feeling more or less completely at peace.
He had filled out. The brown clothes, brought so long ago on an obscure commerce planet fitted him better than it ever had. His long lost hair had returned, in some places growing over the sealed wound on his face.
The gangly, half mad torture victim had come to terms with himself. But it wasn't like he hadn't been helped. All the crew of Moya had played their own part in his newfound peace.
One more than any other. She had continued to comfort him, even after she had departed from the corporeal.
And as he thought of her, she came to him, and he felt the warmth of her guiding hand, stroking the back of his head.
Still my beautiful Stark…
He smiled, reaching out to place his hand on hers.
'Still, if you want me'
Laughter, lilting. Of course I do…but this time, there is something you must know
He opened his eye. 'Yes? I listen, as always'
There was a brief pause, before she began.
You must return to them…for it was never his time to die…the warrior did not fall…
His body went rigid, he leapt to his feet, and turned-
But she was gone.
And he had a most sacred task to fulfil.
Barely pausing to think, Stark ran, shouting, back towards the temple.
--