Space Station Vivic, designation CP-1907, sub-sector Kuliapare; a supply dock at the farthest edge of the known space. A pinprick on the view-screen and a lone outpost at the empire's edge. Beyond is an innumerable vastness of space.
"Axca, what's our ETA?" I ask my leading navigator. "Estimation ten doboshes and their hailing us." Axca states without skipping a beat. Her form is rigid and straight. "Professional as always Axca."
"Ezor could you open a channel please." Ezor my second crew member with a yawn opens the channel. She looks at her fingernails periodically while typing. She's bored, but she does her task well enough. "Done," she says while prompting her feet on the flat surface of the console, leaning back on the chair, and shutting her eyes.
The channel comes to life on the main broadcaster comm. Through it, a harsh monotone voice speaks through. "State business." "Resupply," I replied dryly with my cheek resting on my hand. "Designation?" he recites, "Prince Lotor commander of the Endeavor."
"Sure you are. Clearance codes?" He states next whilst sounding skeptical.
I think of the codes for a moment, mentally counting down on a list of serial numbers, and codes. The algorithm itself is distinguished with a multicolored palette so that the serial numbers and codes are memorable. Color leaves a lasting impression as to prevent forgetfulness. Helps the empire, as a means of color correction. I, however, have no need for color correction. I've long since memorized the algorithm in its numerical form. Which I think to be better, but colors are fine. I about respond with the correct code until...
"Clearance codes now!" The speaker rudely interrupts me, rather snarly too.
At this point, I stop resting on my cheek. I decide to let another moment of silence pass. Everyone, including Ezor, inclines their heads, intrigued.
"I repeat clearance codes now!" He says again clearly losing all pretense of civility.
"I heard you the first time," I respond keeping my voice leveled in contrast to his.
"State clearance codes now or be denied entry! You will be boarded if you do not comply." He threatens. I let another moment of silence slip to spite him.
"I repeat sta-"
"4-5-7-8-9-2-0 Epson Q," I speak the codes slowly and deliberately. There's an awkward pause on the other end. After a while, my crew and I then hear him whispering to himself.
"Ok, that code falls under this color and..." This time I interrupt him in his musings.
"You know I can always spell out for you with an ion beam, just to be certain, eh." I nod to my third crew-member, Zethrid whom precedes to power up weapons.
"Listen, I don't know who in Shakara's name? Who do you think you are? But there are rules and procedures! That need to be followed without questi-" He stops. A deep inhale is audible through the speaker. There's some frantic typing on the other end and eventually, he responds; timidly this time.
"Uhh...ayaaa, ok, everything checks out, the code that is...uh welcome Prince Lotor to void station Vivic and...my humblest apologies. Please enjoy your stay."
I smile and Ezor lets out a giggle. "I intend to," I lean back crossing my leg over my knee. I see it now, vividly, space station Vivic in all its glory, an umbrella-shaped dry dock built for refitting and supplying Galra ships all across the sector.
"Vrepit Sa," He responds with the universal salute all Galra know, "Vrepit Sa" I respond back, but out of habit.
We pull right into port, docking clamps, and fuel pumps with their maintenance crews come pouring out. A lot of the crews are drones, rudimentary robots built to serve a singular purpose, with a few chain gangs in the mix. Attaching docking clamps, scanning for abrasions, and clearing the general space debris off. Wearing basic void suits the chain gangs apply the finer touches the drones cannot, while a lone Galra with a ZX2 plasma carbine watches over them. An access tunnel latches onto our ship, for disembarking. I and the rest of my entourage come through the access tunnel in zero gravity.
We hurry on over for depressurization, after which we remove our helmets and are then breathing nice recycled air. There are trace amounts of incense masking air quality. It is a minty sort of smell.
"The nerve of that guy. Talks all tough, but then wimps out. Weakling!" Zethrid my third companion squeezes her helmet.
"Almost everywhere we go it's the same! Why I wouldn't give for... errrr!" She then takes her helmet and pounds it into her palm. "It's been too long since someone worth their metal backed their words or were at least respectful!" A snarl grin appears on her face. "No respect." Zethrid the tallest and most brazen member of my group. The most physically capable she can easily break her helmet with her hands. It wouldn't be the first time she had done it.
"Easy Zethrid." Axca chimes in to placate Zethrid. "Can't go around asking for trouble."
"Yeah, but still" Ezor pipes in. "It's been a while since we did anything important or fun. The boredom alone is degrading."
"It's true Ezor" They all turn toward me. "It has been a while since we've done anything of importance." I pose a smile letting them know that our business here is more then it appears.
They look at me befuddled, at least Zethrid and Ezor do. I did not tell them beforehand our mission here, only to come here. I intentionally withheld information to both surprises them and to keep them focus on current tasks. Didn't want to upset our work schedule. I bring up my wrist communicator and display a holo-keyboard. My fingers a hairs breath from typing. I wait for a moment to gauge their reactions.
"Stop keeping us in suspense! What are here for, Lotor?" Zethrid makes frantic gestures and moves in close.
"I like surprises Lotor, but suspense I cannot do. Come on what's the secret!" Ezor looks like a darling child eagerly waiting to blow out her birthday candles.
Axca alternatively keeps silent and looks at me with an impassive expression. She's was my first crew mate and has known me the longest, likewise, I know her pretty well. She does not tolerate mischief too much. Likes to play things straight and doesn't overburden things. She's very loyal and keeps herself in reserve. A character trait I greatly admire, but there's a showman in me and in contrast I like a little mischief.
"We are here for somebody. An individual of expectation talent is awaiting us." I disperse the details through the wrist com and all three of my companions receive it in their inbox. All the necessary information. Their holographic screens reveal the new fifth member of our crew.
"Who's she?" Ezor asks, her blue brows raised as she takes in the slender reptilian with no eyes.
"She is Narti, our newest compatriot," I replied,
"Why doesn't she have eyes?" Zethrid asks.
"A little quirk of the lineage of her people. They see things through sonic disturbances and sense body heat. She's also half galra." They all perk up on that detail, even Axca. Eyes wide with curiosity. Feelings of kinship blossom in my companions. Zethrid is looking less angry and instead mildly excited. Ezor is less bored. Her eyes darting across the text as she reads. Axca makes eye contact with me a shy smile on her lips. My crew is after all half Galra, including myself.
"This is really neat, another person we can relate to. Another person who's gone through the struggle of indifference." Ezor declares.
"She looks strong. I wonder how she fights?" Zethrid states next.
"All that and more. My friends, it's important we find her here," eyeing each of them. I allude that this, not a simple recruitment drive. Axca finally breaks her stoic silence. "What's she doing here?"
I casually scratch my jawline, slightly anxious to bring up the name because it's an individual we all dislike. "She's a deserter from Zaku." Immediately Ezor and Zethrid tense up at the mention of that name. Ezor has a look of abject disgust.
"Bllgh figured as much. I take it we have to meet this creep and discuss a deal. Before we blindside him and punch his face, right!" Ezor's eyes bream with glee.
"Business before pleasure, Ezor. Besides Zaku is not here Narti deserted him several months ago. She stowaway on one of the cruisers and is here on this station somewhere."
Ezor is let down. "Darn I would've really liked to see him again, you know with his face all bruised up." She circles her finger around her face, a symbolic gesture.
"I did break his nose that one time." Zethrid pipes in.
"Yeah, but I wanted to see if we could also-"
"Ezor, Zethrid, please. Business before pleasure," my words snapping them back to attention.
They both have a history with Zaku he was once their former commanding officer. A Galra captain in charge of an auxiliary cohort. Almost entirely composed of hybrids. He fancied himself a curator of an exotic specialized unit, an elite force he would say that could respond to any crisis and perform with exceptional skill. He talked big but he never demonstrated any skill in utilizing their talents and he was a bit of a coward.
He never had any assertive control over his unit and he never gained the respect of his peers. "Zaku's traveling circus" it was called. It was a title of contention and mockery. Also, it didn't help that he had other deviate habits. It's probably why Narti deserted either that or poor leadership. It's been ages since Zethrid and Ezor left him to join me. Even then they didn't like talking about him. Unless of course, it involves describing methods of maiming his body. In which I sincerely concur.
We each finish up looking at Narti's profile and my companions turn their attention to me. Confident and resolute I began to explain our mission. "We are here to find Narti and recruit her. This is a private enterprise this information cannot reach Galra high command. When we ask around the story is she was sent by us to manage our inventory here at Vivic. We are simply here to resupply and pick her up."
All three of my companions nod their heads. "Don't ask around too much. Be persuasive, but don't escalate things to the point it becomes a brawl. Zethrid?"
"Pfff, sure. If they're anything like that guy on our way in. I'll just give them a look and they'll talk."
"I'm sure. Anyways Narti has valuable skills, so it is imperative we find her."
"Whatever you say, boss dude," Ezor responds with a big grin on face.
"That's the spirit. We'll split up check ever crawl space and side passage from top to bottom."
Axca raises her hand. "Axca."
"Not that trouble seems likely, but will there be any trouble from outside forces?"
"No trouble at all," I assure her with a smile. "I've been exiled remember."
Soon after our discussion, we split up. My companions go off and search for Narti in the station. Zethrid takes engineering. Ezor the docking area. Axca is taking a look at the habitation housing. Meanwhile, I am taking a look at the lower decks. My reasoning is that Natri can't be hiding in too of an obscure place. Non-galra personal is fairly a common sight this far out. Although most of them are in chain gangs, I doubt Natri is in one. Those are largely made up of slaves and malcontents mostly.
Natri from what I read is smarter than that. She's either hiding or hiding in plain sight. A hybrid is not so widely scorn there denied certain privileges. It's just there often viewed with a sense of great apathy. Still, in truth, they are a slight cut above the rest, but never above Galra. The Galra, after all, are the masters of the universe, so I'm told. Everything else is supposed to be subject to them and their desires. Although in reality, it's actually, one person's foible, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Narti, Narti, Narti where could you be in this place of Galra dominance?
I take a right turn and I see I'm getting close. The lower levels are usually not well maintained. Bits of broken scraps, old quintessence containers, and grease stains appear here and there. A chain gang is being escorted. A couple of drones and a couple of Galra personal keep watch over them. I notice one of the prisoners is an Istvaanian. The prisoner makes brief eye contact with me. "Head down, eyes front cretin!" One of the guards bellows. The prisoner numbly obeys. Istvaan was destroyed by the Galra a century ago.
There is a growing number of people whom the Galra call 'Leftovers,' derelict people with no home and no livelihood. They are what's left of their destroyed planets and battered star systems. They have nothing. Expect to serve unto death the Galra. Their destroyers. Even when made destitute they are a resource to be used. The Galra Empire blotted beyond measure needs every resource it can get. Be it quintessence or people, sometimes both.
The need for more quintessence and workers is an ever-growing demand for the bloated Galra empire. It's a precarious state of affairs even with automation taking center stage. It's not enough. The empire is not holding like it used to. It's mainly because of pride. A commitment to subjugate and quell the galaxy. What does it matter if a few planets are burned? The Galra, after all, are masters of the universe, so I'm told.
"Just like how Pollux became." I sigh to myself. It's been deca phoebes since I was exiled, but the circumstances surrounding it are still fresh in mind. It doesn't help that the vast number of parked ships are of the same Galra cruiser class.
I come upon an elevator and it takes me down to the lower levels. Once there I walk alone down a dim lite corridor. On my left are old storage rooms and hallways. Debris and trash litter the place. A fine layer of grime covers the floor, at least at the corners. On my right is a window and outside is the maelstrom. A cosmic body of folding nebulas and black holes. From a distance, it looks like a gigantic array of yellow clouds, bright, and with a saturation of bronze at its edges.
I also see some battlecruisers of all types coming and going at the purview. Freighters as well of bulbous design come into sight. If there was anything that really showed the true might of the Galra Empire. It would be their spacefaring capabilities and the fear of a heavily armed warship above obit. Since the destruction of Daibazaal, Galra homeworld. The Galra long had much practice and experience perfectly the art of space combat.
A warrior society with ethics of duty, obedience, and strength. The galaxy as a whole eventually succumbed to the will of the Galra. There was a resistance of course to Galra conquest, like the Alteans, but they were taken out quickly and brutally. Another infamous example and there are many infamous examples, but this one, in particular, captures the brutal stubborn nature of the Galra. Known as the Dropsite Massacre, a space fortress above the planet Umbra. Held off a Galra fleet for a whole deca-phoebe. Casualties among the Galra were high. The Galra fleet, initially, consisted of hundreds of ships, but the siege above Umbra had cost half that number.
The space fortress itself dub by the Galra as Kurva could not be destroyed. It had long-range capabilities that far exceed the range of the fleet and it moved in conjunction with the planet's rotation, so it was not possible to get around it. On top of that, the planet's surface doted with anti-ship turrets and military strongholds would render a planetary invasion as just as costly. Even if the Galra got passed Kurva.
Needless to say, the Galra fleet was in a bad way. Lacking in firepower the fleet could do nothing expect blockade, which amounted to nothing. Other fleets were in other theaters of war and reinforcements couldn't come. Ordered explicitly by Emperor Zarkon to take Umbra by any means. The Admiral, his name Phrok, once famously said, "Jebi ga, victory or death" and with five warships strip of its crew and piloted by drones. Rammed the fortress and sent it hurling down into the planet. Umbra was taken, what was left of it.
I come across a piece of tin standing in my way. Having my musings interrupted I idly kick it. Its sound reverberates across the empty hall. Trash, debris, and rubbish are everywhere. Yes, the lower levels are not well maintained, but still.
At any given time this station and others like it could house as many as a thousand Galra. Subdivided into maintenance crews, naval officers, armsmen, and quartermasters. Coupled with tens of thousands of sentry bots. Which constitutes the majority of the Galra military. It is the standard for most Galra stations, but standards are slipping as of late.
I continue on my search checking a few storage rooms and walking aimlessly around the hallways. I should have planned this better, but I do like to explore and enjoy my solitude. Suddenly I come across a group of sentry bots. No doubt on patrol, yet watching over them with data slate in hand is a Galra trooper. The stylised angled markings on his shoulder plate denote him as a corporal. He notices me watching. He's wearing a helmet and even with it on, I can tell by the way his mouth curls up into a sneer. He's not giving me the most friendly of looks or respect.
"Excuse me," I speak to him, as he passes. He stops to look at me irritated. "Who's asking?" His says to me.
"I'm looking for a reptilian hybrid, specifically a woman. Have you seen her?" I bring up her holographic picture on my wrist screen. He takes one look and edges closer to me. "Listen pointy ears I don't give damn about your scaley girlfriend. I got a patrol to finish and you still haven't answered my initial question. Who are you and why should I care?"
I dismiss the screen and move right up into his face. The differences in our height become very apparent and he wavers a bit.
"You know exactly who I am, soldier," I place my hand on his shoulder. "Don't pretend otherwise." He looks around nervously. Beginning to sweat even as he sees the blue sigil on my breastplate. Through his helmet, I can tell his eyes had widened. "P-Prince Lotor," he hastily says, "sorry I-I-I thought..uh..you were in exile."
"Exile?" I'm slightly bemused at that last remark. "Just because I've been exiled, does not mean I not part of the Galra Empire. I mean we own most of the galaxy. Right?"
"Uh...yes."
"And it was because good soldiers like you showed deference to your superiors. Otherwise...we may never have gotten this far out soldier."
"Well I-I-I try hard."
"But therein lies the rub...Obedience, obedience, obedience. You're not being disobedient are you?"
"Wh-what I-I-I?"
"I would really hate to have to resort to...base methods of establishing obedience. Do I?"
"Look I didn't know!"
"Ignorance is no excuse for disrespect. What's your name soldier?"
"B- Br-Bron... my prince. Bron Coriolanus Corporal second class."
"Rank goes first Bron."
"My apologies my-my prince!" He stutters and then raises his data slate to hide behind it, a feeble attempt to hid his embarrassment. I wrap my arm around him and bring him in close in a friendly sort of way.
So... Bron. Have you seen this girl?" I bring up her picture again.
"She's mighty lovely my prince." I frown. "No, I mean...jebi...I-I-I mean sorry I have not...seen her I'm afraid." I give his shoulder a slight squeeze. "But, s-she could be at the PX getting food. We get a lot of people coming in and that's..heh...usually where everybody ends up. Including hybrids heh heh." He laughs nervously. I look down the hall, not looking for anything in particular. Bron jerks his head to where I'm looking and then back me.
I casually scratch a corner of my eye and go through the motion of flicking something away. I'm quite relaxed but the Galra trooper beside me is visibly sweating and swearing under his breath. It's all very amusing to me. I had built up a reputation, you see, and many Galra would be remiss if they did not see it my way.
I absently raise up my hand and scratch one of my nails, they're sharp and dense. Something I've inherited. Any good Galra knows that his best weapon is not always his blaster or blade, but his nails. Butcher's nails as they were infamously called at one point.
I decide I've had enough fun and decide to put this tomfoolery behind me, "Your cooperation is most appreciated. Vrepit Sa." I turn and walk away.
"V-V-Vrepit Sa." He stutters and moves back to his assigned task with all the grace befitting someone 'highly motivated.' I watch him leave for a good moment. His security drones moving in unison with him. However, his fear is palatable. His left-hand clutches and unclenches into a fist shaking. He would tap on his data slate uncontrollably.
I definitely put the fear in him, for amusement for all, it's worth. No longer wanting to dawdle I place my hands behind my back, gripping my first two fingers, and I continue on my way. Times like these remind me of just who I am. I am Altean, but with bits of Galra blood in me.
These Galra are supposedly my kindred, comrades at arms sort of speak. But I don't feel that way about them. I'm no pure Galra. I'm a hybrid one-half Galra and the other half Altean. The Alteans were the first ones to be annihilated. When the Galra began their conquest of the universe, in search of quintessence. Needless to say, I resent my Galra half a lot, so much so it gives me conniptions sometimes. However, I would be remiss in not having admired at least two aspects about the Galra. And that is their cavalier attitude and submission to strength.
Strength is a form of etiquette a well defined cultural trait rooted in Galra's warrior identity. Project an air strength and the Galra will submit to you either out of fear or adoration. The former is considered superior to the latter. "Better to be feared, then loved," as the old proverb goes. Zarkon wrote that. Speaking of him. He is the overarching ruler of the Galra Empire and he is my father. What an overlord he is?
He made fear the desired virtue; not that it is a virtue, but when your emperor of the entire galaxy you're entitled to certain things. I suppose when power is held in your grasp and you're the one to wield it. Certain things become absolutes. Even when they're not. Because of that, I wish his power though would slip.
"Hah, the many times I've fantasized about his unmaking. These last few deca-phoebes."
One of my hands involuntary begins to clench into a fist. Thinking about him, especially after what happened that resulted in my exile. Is not helping my nerves. His power allows him to project a long iron shadow across the galaxy. If one planet steps out of line which can be any of a number of things. Such as not paying their tithes or failing to succeed their maximum tithes the result is unfortunately always annihilation. Or direct subjugation.
Balmera is one such, planet of this subjugation. It is, however, living on borrowed time. At any moment the whole planet an entire civilization, an entire culture, its people, all of it could be made into a glass ball. Under the shadow of a Galra cruiser with its purple ion beam burning away at the planet, like a magnifying glass to ants. I pause for a moment and breath deeply. I had been holding my breath, something I do to keep my nerves calm. Whenever I think about the empire and the injustice it commits on the galaxy at large. I...
There is no nuance in how Zarkon rules. The whole galaxy could burn if meant reminding who is in charge and who holds the power. Another planet 4537-2 was destroyed and I didn't even catch its real name! It was obliterated so quickly and much, much recently…Pollux. I inhale and give my hand a squeeze.
It's senseless, yet begrudgingly, I clench my teeth, it does get results. Unintended results.
It's like this. Many planets of a surrounding sector, where a planet was last burned. They are spur so much by the fear of annihilation. They far exceeded their maximum output. They give greatly, even those who normally didn't have much, to begin with, exceeded their required production. Fear is a powerful thing, however when you apply that over a millennium-long span. It begins to wear the empire, this machine out. It's like not applying a lubricate to your engine. It just begins to run on fumes.
It's this thought that gives me a little spring to my step. The empire for all the millennium-long ages since its inception, built on fear is finally reaping what it sowed. The Galra are feeling that fear, the paranoia, and the anxiety, from the many people they had subjugated. The reversal is occurring and dissension is brewing in the ranks. The discontent is palpable. Not enough able-bodied Galra to go around. Not enough energy to be allocated. Already some are fudging their numbers, taking bribes, and others are speaking of insurrection. Reform is even being talked about. To be honest I never thought it was still in the Galra vocabulary. The most prominent Galra speaking of reform is this group called the Blade of Mamora.
I did some training with some of their members a long time ago. Thace and Regris, one a Galra and the other a hybrid. I meant them on a survival expedition on an ice planet. Dutiful and respectable I found them to be, but our paths lied elsewhere. They would not have made good allies, anyway, not for what I have planned.
The faction has come increasingly under great scrutiny. I feel they will be declared traitors any day now like, so many others before. Zarkon does not like other Galra questioning his leadership. Even I, his son, yes his son, have a harder enough time as it is, even if we are kin, we are less than kind. I do, however, have a plan to change this dichotomy, not now, but soon, very soon.
I am walking down a corridor. Ever so often glancing outside the windows to see the neighboring nebula. Remarkable, it is, even when the Galra empire is feeling itself straining to hold the galaxy in place. The universe moves on with its glory. Bronze coloreds, stars that glow like gems, the sheer size of the entire corridor is encompassed by it. The nebula is probably thousands of kilometers long. I stop for a moment to fully embrace it. It's soothing to behold.
When I was young whenever I got into trouble or felt troubled. I would gaze outside a window or go riding around in one of my ships and take it all in. There is, so much the universe can offer, so many possibilities. Trouble is, I observed, is grasping those possibilities.
"I should have been the one to exiled myself ages ago," I remark out loud. "Someday I'll have what is rightly mine."
Suddenly a loud rattling noise startles me. I turn to see who it is, I suspect one of my companions Axca. She always had a habit of eavesdropping on me during my quiet times. Or maybe it's Ezor. This obnoxious noise does certainly fit into her playful attitude and she can go invisible, at least to the naked eye. Could be Narti I've read that she can quite stealthy, but then again why make such noise. I dismiss the thoughts, hoping, instead, for a conclusion to my search.
I have time, but more time in this Galra station is a place I rather not spend any more then I have to. My inclination tells me it's coming from the dustbins. The sound of wrappers being torn audible from here.
"Peculiar?"
I bring up my wrist screen and switch to the motion sensor. An audible beep emanates from it, something is there. I move slowly, the beeping getting louder each time. I clear a few of the dustbins out of my way until I am but a momentary presence away from the source. The source is emanating from behind a piece of sheet metal, I'm close.
"I not going to hurt you. I'm here to help." I grip the two ends of the sheet metal and slowing pull back. "Easy." I lift and with careful precision, I set it to the side.
To my chagrin, it was not Narti as I had hoped, instead, it was a brown Covian cat, an unknown species of feline believed to have originated from...Altea. A sudden sense of nostalgia for the blue cat from home fills me. I stretch out my hand, palm opened, and the cat comes over. It rustles against my hand as I scratch the back of its ear. It purrs vibrating with a warm I have not felt in a long time.
"How are you fellow? Searching for food?" The cat meows and I smile. "I have no doubt you can manage just fine on your own." He looks up to me. He has a certain olive green to his eyes and his pupils wide. I brush my hand against the side of his head. Feelings of comfort and content come to life within me. I have not felt this way in some time. It reminds me of a happier time, on Pollux... with Veera.
Images of her face pop into my mind and that dreadful feeling of... numbness seeps in. The cat tilts his head. His eye's forming slits as he gazes upon me. He knows I feel the guilt, the shame, and the...abhorrence that fate has dealt me. I am born of a Tyrant, suffered under his magistrates, and condemned to be related to him. Emperor Zarkon.
The numbness subsides and a new feeling steps in. My hands curve into fists."One day I will take what is mine." My thoughts turn bloody.
Then without warning a sipping noise interrupts my brooding. I turn and...my eyes beheld a tall figure before me. It's a familiar outline, whose height casts a shadow over me. It is as oppressive, and heavy as iron. Like the day he banished me.
"Father." I gasp. Zarkon! He of all people is here and...drinking a...shake! That sight alone throws me for a loop, it's so preposterous, I'm utterly shocked! He's the last person I wanted to see in this dreary sub-basement.
"W-What are you doing here?" To my internal disgust, I sound like the galra corporal. He takes another long sip of his drink and moves forward
"I come to talk." He states albeit with reluctance. This at first puzzles me.
"Talk what I don't even..." Then my confusion evaporates and a sly smile comes up on my lips.
"Oh, father have you actually come all this way to apologize, jeez father you do have a heart. Never figured my long imposed exile would stir up sentiments within that stiff exterior of yours." I cross my arms and lean in."I am singularly impressed."
"Don't get sarcastic with me boy." His voice cuts through my antics like an ax through a log. He's not amused, but I'm not surprised. Which oddly is reassuring.
"I have come here merely by suggestion, not by anything as pointless as...sentiment!" I roll my eyes.
"Then are why are here," I dryly remark.
"Haggar."
Haggar! The name sends pin-pricks down my spine until I'm boiling over from the inside like burning oil. I don't bother to hide my contempt. "What does she want?"
He takes another sip of his drink.
"She advised me it would be most prudent that the heir of the Galra Empire, should at least be within reach." He deadpans it as fact, but I'm skeptical.
"Most prudent? Father seriously, you came all this way 50,000 lightyears from the capital, here at Kuilapare. For the sorceress!" I blurt out with irritation. "You remember our last... conversation don't you." It really wasn't a conversation
"I do, but she is my most trusted advisor, I value her judgment as much as I value the empire." He says nonchalantly, his face expressionless.
"That's because you two are the same," I whisper under my breath.
"What was that?" His voice rises, but I brush it off. "Why even follow her advise? Why do this?" I spread my arms wide.
"If Haggar said it must be done then it will be done. Personally, though," his voice then takes on that all familiar cadence, a cadence as hard as iron.
"I could care less about what you do with your time. Your weakness is out of sight and no I longer have I deal with you. Your an embarrassment boy." His eyes narrow. I hunch up my shoulders and look contemptuously at him.
"Weakness you say. The planet I was in charge of got scorch, under your order, no less. You can't stand the thought that one day the empire will be in my hands. In my hands the empire will do way better under me, then it ever has under you because when it's all said and done. You're a bad memory and you'll be forgotten like one. I'm not like you, I know how to lead and lead well!. "
He grunts and laughs humorlessly. "The only thing you know how to lead are drones on parade. " He takes another sip while looking down at me. I, in turn, am glaring at him. He then says. "Which planet was that by the way?"
"Pollux!" I threw arms up in indignation. "I was sent there to produce quintessence and I was doing just that."
"Wrong!" he cuts in, "You were sent there to bring the planet under the heel of the empire, not mingle with lesser life forms." He points his finger at me and my voice rises at the accusation.
"The planet was producing quadruple the amount of quintessence, then any other and why in Shakara's name! Does that make those people any lesser!"
He snorts and rattles his drink for a bit. My hand begins clenching again.
"The issue is not the amount of quintessence, boy! I could care less how much they produce, so long as they produce and meant the needs of the empire. Issue here boy and let me put this into perspective. Is that you mingled with them. Befriended them. We are not friends, we are not in positions of power to make friends. We are to rule. As rulers, we are to be set apart from all others by the power we hold and command. By making friends of people of less status and race. You are inviting a plague."
"You didn't consider mother lesser when you meant her and she was an Altean." I place my clenching hand behind my back. Thoughts of Veera began playing like an old movie projector in my head. My hands are curve into fists.
Zarkon shrugs and drinks. "True, your mother was my only weakness and it was in that weakness. Daibazaal was destroyed."
My hands stop clenching, thoughts of Veera stop appearing. Daibazaal? The Galra homeworld. I've seen the planet itself. It is a lifeless husk. I am at a loss for words. An uneasy stalemate ensues between us. He and I have always been at odds. Always crashing, always arguing, and it's tiresome. Yet, this would be the first time then I can remember that I would actually feel pity for him.
As this new feeling arises, I now begin to question. What changed in my father? What actually happened? To make him what he is.
"You know. You don't tell me much about your past? In fact, you never told me much Daibazaal itself?
"Didn't Dayak teach you anything?" He precedes drink, the content of which is almost gone.
I roll my eyes. "She did but...You were a witness. You were there when it happened. I really don't understand why this is an issue?
"Alright fine, if it means you'll cooperate. I'll tell you and nothing else. Back then Daibazaal had an alliance with other spacefaring races. The alliance initially started out as a mutual economic exchange. Involving quintessence and raw material like scaultrite. King Olforde and Emperor Dairugger, my predecessor, had started this alliance out of self-interest."
I nod my head. I was taught these details before, except I wasn't told the king of Altea was Olforde. An important detail that I have to remember. Zarkon continued.
"The alliance would convene annually every few deca-phoebes to discuss trade policy and who will defend our goods from pirates. That's how Prince Alfor and I meant. In was in our battle against pirates that we wanted to make the alliance something more. Heh, I so idealistic back then. Such fool I was." He stares off into the window looking at the nebula.
"Anyways we began sharing technology, meeting regularly, discussing how we can improve the quality of life of other races and eventually when we each came to power. We created Golion." He turns his head back to me sharply.
"Golion was the culmination of what the alliance was to become. Not law enforcers or defenders of our protectorates, but...heroes. Heh heh." He begins to laugh darkly.
"Fantasy. We were so idealistic back then. Thought we could liberate the universe from oppression. No. Conquerors. Should have started out conquerors. Not liberators, but that's in hindsight."
He then stares off into space. A grim expression on his face.
"How was Daibazaal destroyed?" I asked.
"Alfor betrayed me."
"And?"
"And nothing!" He snarls at me. Crushing his drink in his hand. I involuntarily take a step back. There was something he was hiding. Something he did not wish to speak of. I knew since the moment I read the official account. My father had redacted key details concerning Daibazaal's destruction. There was something he wanted hidden, something forgotten. Now more than ever was my chance, to gain at least one insight into why he became what he is and maybe...further my own goals. Knowledge is power.
"Why did Alfor betrayed you?"
"He left me in a rift and watched as my planet died!
"What rift?" I pressed undeterred by his sudden aggression.
"The quintessence field! It had been opened by a comet. We entered to harvest it, but we were attacked by creatures!"
"What sort of creatures? His jerks his head a bit, his eyes glowing, his breathing erratic. I've never seen him like this.
"What sort of creatures?" I asked again. He starts moving. Turning and hunching over like a confused drunkard. I almost hesitate to ask again, but by some measure of impulse, I ask...
"Father, what happened?" I'm surprised by how genuine I sound. He stops moving erratically and assumes the same posture he had before. He then looks me in the eye with a cold face.
"What happened was that Alfor turned tail and ran. They all ran, leaving me and your mother to fend for ourselves. She died. And I returned as a conqueror.
At that moment a Galra cruiser outside the viewscreen passes by with fighter escort. It's close, the rumble of its engines sound like a small quaking volcano. The lights flicker. My father and breaks eye contact for a moment and I notice on his stiff exterior, the ghost of a smile grace his face.
My father is indeed a conqueror, but he's also a lier. Because why would Alfor go through the trouble of evaluating all the Galra people.
"Alfor evaluated our people."
"He did that to cover his tracks."
"How do you know?"
"Enough of this." He throws his crushed shake to the side. "I've told you all you need to know to sate your inquiring.
"You've told nothing, but half-truths."
"And that is the official version of events."
"You lie."
"What does it matter?" He points at me. "Alfor is dead and so is the rest of Golion, the past has been wiped clean. There is nothing to speak of or know of about them. They were weaknesses and now have been erased. It matters not!
"No. It matters a great deal and I think this subversion of history exposes something about you. You're afraid."
"Boy." An edge rumbles in his voice. He sneers at me with a look that could cut through metal. I meet it head-on.
"Stop lying to me. Tell me the truth, please." I grit my teeth and speak with an edge of my own. All other outside noises are rendered mute. There is just us and the breathing through our nostrils.
Memories of Pollux and Veera began playing in my head again. I remember when I first arrived, they were fearful of me. However, I slowly earned their trust. I was honest and I was respectful. I treated them like how I wanted to be treated. I honored them. In contrast, the Galra and tyrant before me have no such concept of honor. It is why I feel disdain for them.
The image of a scorch Pollux predominantly takes over my thoughts. It was so senseless, so absurd, and for what! Because I friended the Polluxian people. I friended Veera! My jaw clenches harder and my fists tighten until I feel my knuckles crack.
My planet. My planet! The one I was in charge of, the one that was taken from me! Taken from me! By him! On impulse, I edge closer.
"Why do you do it? Why you do lie? Why do destroy!" I barely keep myself contained.
He takes his finger and tabs me on the chest. "Because I am the master of the universe and I will it so!"
Suddenly were grappling each other, pushing against each other, our feet sliding, as we pore our weight into the other. I kick his shins and he, in turn, is kicking mine. All the while the lights flicker casting a dark shadow over us both. His eyes though always glowing.
"Impotent boy!" He says.
The disgruntled contempt he has for me. I, in turn, have none of the love for him as I bare my teeth. I jump up and bring my elbow down on his head. He's wearing a helmet, his crown, it falls. He then grabs a hold of me and throws me across into the dustbins.
"Know your place trash!" He taunts, but it invigorates me. I grab a hold of a dustbin and fling it at him. He swats it aside.
Just when he is about to stomp over. The strangest thing happens. Suddenly like a lightning bolt striking the ground between us. The cat, the Covian cat from earlier is suddenly at his side and rubbing against his leg.
My father looks down, stupefied, as do I and then in a gesture, I couldn't at first comprehend is when he stumps down to pet it
"I remember when your mother, had a creature like this." His cadence like a record player, switching tracks, becomes unusually soft. The cat flops on its side, exposing its belly and my father gives it a rub. The tension dissipates from limbs, all my thoughts of Pollux gone. Instead, an awkwardness settles in. I cross my arms and stuff my hands under my armpits. I move over to peer down at them. Unable to process exactly what is happening. I chide myself for my uncertainty in this situation.
Yet, he continues to pet it and a grim smile is present on his face. It was then that it finally click in on what he said.
"Mother?"
"Honvera." He whispers.
He stops rubbing the feline and looks up to me with a strange glossy expression.
"I don't always remember those days when I was a paladin and when she was an alchemist. Like Haggar, Honevera had a...intelligence and sound judgment."
My eyes widen, "Like Haggar," I thought to myself. That irked me, but I refused to let that show on my face. Instead, I scratch the back of my head.
"She was quite attractive and she had an air about her that I found cute."
"Cute?" A sudden remembrance from childhood appears in my head. It was when I was in one of Hagger's backrooms, storage rooms to be precise. In there I found a worn out data slate and a picture. A picture of both my mother and him together as a couple. They had a look of sincere happiness.
To this day I don't know why Hagger had it in her backroom or why it was even there, but I've never forgotten that picture. It gives me a sense of hope that maybe things could change and maybe I could persuade father. However, I am long past that.
I start to smile grimly as well. Hope, is a fickle thing and it's a road I no longer wish to travel. Pollux was the final straw, the gnash that cut too deep. I am in exile now and in exile, I have only myself to pursue the truth. It's clear to me now, whatever happened to my father in that rift. He is now no longer the same as he was in that picture.
He is diseased. He is what is rotten in the empire. I have a plan to rid the empire of him and in that plan lies the future for the universe. This meeting was unexpected, but I am resolved to complete my goal.
Zarkon stands up his gaze no longer beguiling any sentiment. In its place the same cold, unapologetic gaze that in ages past once scared me. It doesn't anymore.
"Lotor, the empire is comprised of a million worlds with trillions of beings. We are the masters of the universe and no one is our equal. Even to entertain the idea of equality is to invite disaster. We cannot share power. We must weld it. Our hold on the Galaxy at large cannot loosen. Even events from our past that threaten our future cannot be brought up. Past mistakes must be forgotten. For the future is defined by the present power that shapes it. Power is absolute, power has no weaknesses. You understand."
"Yes," I tell him sardonically.
"Good." He says nonchalantly. There's a brief pause as we are standing adjacent to one another. He moves over to pick his helmet and put it back on. He makes ready to leave.
A lingering thought edges out at the corner of my mind and I felt I ought to say it.
"I'm not like you know, nor will I ever be." He pauses in his stride. Another moment of silence passes before he walks away and says. "I know, but do you know yourself."
Eventually, the shadows eclipse him obscuring his form until he is no longer visible. "I do know myself. I'm an Altean. One day, one day you will see the lies and the corruption you have sown. On that day I will take your crown." I whisper to myself before I too walk away, eclipsed by the shadows.
A few doboshes later, my comm bead begins vibrating, just when I'm about to turn a corner. It's Axca she's calling me. "Yes."
"We've found her," she says so forthrightly that I lose concertation and stub my toe against something.
"H-H-Have you?" I stop to address what I accidentally hit. It's a pipe and it looks like it fell from the ceiling.
"Yes, and it was actually easy." She almost sounds whimsical. I pick up the pipe.
"Do tell." There's a paused silence before she answers.
"...Zethrid was feeling hungry and she went into the PX. There she found Natri serving spuds."
"So she was hiding in plain sight." I offhandedly comment.
"What?"
"Nevermind, are you there as well?" I begin twirling the pipe in between my fingers.
"Yes, and so is Ezor."
"I see…Where is the PX exactly?"
" Go to the docking area, take a left at the main passage you should see a sigh."
"Alright, I'll be there in a few."
"Is something wrong." I stop twirling the pipe. Axca had always been perceptive. Able to read people and understand them. For me, it means I must keep my guard up.
"Eh?"
"You don't sound like yourself...did something happen?" Her concern is palpable.
"No nothing happened. I just surprised as all this wrapped quicker than I expected." I start making my way, twirling the pipe, as I walk.
"...You sure nothing's wrong." She presses and I sign
"I appreciate your concern for my well being Axca, but I assure you I experienced no trouble. It's just the lower decks are poorly managed, it's dirty down here."
"Understood I'll...ah...see you in a few."
"Meet me by the ship, ok. Bye." I close the channel. I sigh to myself and pinch the bridge of my nose of all the places to run into Zarkon, it had to be a dreary place like this. I notice the cat is no longer with me. I scan the area. Where it could off run to? Nope, nothing. It's gone. It's a shame really Ezor would have really liked it. I begin thinking about them, my companions. They're good women, Axca in particular. However, there are certain things I cannot convene onto them. I fear they would not look at me the same way. If I really opened up to them. No, I like the suave and aloof facade I portray. Prince Charming I remember Ezor calling me one time. I like the archetype. Certainly sounds more appealing than the rebellious son.
I look at the pipe in my hand. "Rebellious son?" I turn my head around and look where I came from. "Rebellious son…that's so average." Cocking my arm back I throw the pipe down the hall. The sound it makes reverberates along the empty hall. "It is unbecoming of a prince to be average, not for what I have planned ." I bring up my wrist com and open up the holographic image of a map. It's an old blueprint of an ancient Altean map and on it reads the word Oriande.
"My destiny as Prince of the universe is fast approaching."
Author's Note: If you liked this story. Please check out my previous work and leave a review.
I have ambitious plans for Lotor. Tell me what you all think and I'll consider your input.
Now to my other readers Megatron Kim, Shiranai Atsune, nickyadon, Brooklynn1219, and empresscarina. I have 1,121 words so far on the 2nd chapter of "All my Life" expect an update in the next two months. The chapter is going to be a long one and an introduction to something...very different. Like said I have ambitious plans.
You all take care and I'll see you all in a little while.