The Night of Blood and Fire

One: Lord Commander

The Lord Commander was pissed off.

And when he was pissed off, someone else had to suffer for it.

He sat on his oversized throne in a darkened, cavernous room, brooding. Given the events of the previous day, it was inevitable that there would be repercussions. After a theft, break-in, escape, disappearance, and gunfight right in the heart of the Tera Con Empire, an example simply had to be made or more idiots would get the idea that this was acceptable behavior. That much was obvious. It was an insult of the highest order, and someone had to answer for it.

No him, of course, being the true victim in the situation, but someone.

The theft, at least, had been thwarted, and by General Avocato of all people. As if the man wasn't already covered in enough laurels, he just had to up and save the day again. Or saved part of the day, at least. The security system at the vault had turned weirdly erratic for the duration of the incident, skipping and blurring the images so what happened was not exactly clear, but the door had been opened and a struggled ensued. The scientists examining the footage, unable to explain the interference, theorized the thieves had a hitherto unknown jamming device. Avocato, who suffered a broken wrist from fighting with the four thieves, could only say they had been oh-so-conveniently dressed as members of the imperial guards. He could not even be sure of their races, though he though one might be robotic. All Avocato said was that the thieves had not escaped with the Lord Commander's prize, and the elegant device, known to the general only as Darshon's Key, was safely contained where it belonged. Avocato did voice concern that they had found the vault at all, but the only thing the Lord Commander cared about was that the dimensional key remained in his possession.

Even Avocato's excuse for being near the high-security vault was annoyingly plausible, too, precluding him from bearing the brunt of the Lord Commander's wrath. He said after the rally, he had gone home to check on his son, and then intended to return to his office after stopping by the weapons lab to look in on the planned upgrades for the standard-issue laser rifles when he'd noticed something awry.

That level of conscientiousness was galling, even moreso than Avocato's over-educated vocabulary and use of the word awry. Any of the other generals would have sent one of their junior officers for something so mundane, but not Avocato. Granted, he had recently dismissed his aide-de-camp and had yet to tap a replacement. That wasn't the point. General Avocato liked to see these things for himself, to fire the guns and wear the armor and fly the ships, so when there were problems, he could understand them better. His satisfaction mattered more to the rank-and-file than the Lord Commander's, and they jumped through hoops to keep him happy. Not that he, the Lord Commander, had ever shown the least interest in the well-being of his troops, their weapons, their armor, their ships the way Avocato did. That wasn't the point. The point was that Avocato was maddeningly perfect and smart and tall and even the Lord Commander had to admit the Ventrexian looked damned good in that precision-tailored uniform.

The bastard. Small wonder the whole army was in madly love with him.

For an individual who hated pretty much everyone but himself, the Lord Commander couldn't hate Avocato more. He'd tried his best to build on the emotion, but how did you build on something that was an absolute? It was something of a compliment, really. He hated the general because he needed and envied him. Avocato was an unparalleled military genius and fearless leader. After almost ten years of service, he had never disobeyed an order, almost never lost a battle and had never lost a fleet action, never presented the Lord Commander with any reason to lash out at him. On the contrary. Avocato was ruthlessly efficient and had expanded the empire at an astonishing rate, as much with diplomacy as brute force. His record for success was positively nauseating. The Ventrexian warlord was easily the most hated being in history - living, dead, or otherwise. In the past decade, this one man had brought death and destruction down on more worlds than even the Inci Empire. His death count was off the charts. More people had tried to kill him than the Lord Commander himself.

Not that he was counting . . . out loud, at least, but he found the imbalance to be completely unacceptable. There were transgressions that could never be forgiven, and this was one of them. The second was not allowed to outshine the first, especially since Avocato made it look so effortless.

And there was something about him . . . it almost felt as if Avocato was distracted, as if he was merely playing at his role of second-in-command. He knew things the Lord Commander didn't. But how could he? What was it? What did he know that gave him that bottomless well of patience and the distant look in his eyes? How did he pull off this air of detachment so seamlessly? Was he up to something? What was his plan?

Not having the answers – and not being able to ask the questions without that inscrutable frown descending onto that hairy face – was maddening.

He knew Avocato despised serving him, but only because he had read the general's mind once, not because of anything that had been said or done. And even then, he hadn't really been able to get a hold on that psyche – a will as strong as Avocato's was hard to circumvent and he'd only gained a few impressions, nothing concrete. Avocato's emotions had been directed not at the Lord Commander, but the position he was in. He was good, very good, at hiding his feelings, and unlike weaker-minded individuals, he had sensed the attempted invasion and resisted. Oh, well, at least he'd given the general a three-day migraine to cover his tracks. It was the least that son of a bitch deserved. The Lord Commander had happily put on a show of sympathy and even sent his own physician to check on the general.

And if Avocato knew it was the Lord Commander, he'd never said a word.

Stoic bastard. He was probably just showing off.

Maybe it was time for another migraine.

Of all his generals, Avocato was the only real threat to the Lord Commander's authority and they both knew it, even though Avocato never gave the least indication he wanted anything more than what he had. Truth be told, it was a hell of a lot. As second-in-command of the empire, the Ventrexian had the soldiers and officers in his pocket – if he wanted them – and he managed to keep the top generals in check. No small feat, considering there were twelve generals immediately under Avocato and every one of them was as ravenous for power as a Zargon Slug. Any of the other generals would have given anything, paid any price to occupy Avocato's position, but they were not beloved and followed with blind devotion. They also weren't nearly as capable, a fact none of them seemed to recognize, and some were roundly hated by the people serving under them.

Avocato was, simply put, the lynchpin holding the military – and therefore the empire - together. Strangely, he just seemed content leading and conquering and playing soldier. He entertained no ambition to occupy the throne and rule the empire himself and probably would have been happy as a rank-and-file soldier. That in itself spoke volumes. The Lord Commander knew that given a chance, Avocato would simply walk away from all of this, something he could never allow.

Avocato was his, and Avocato had to go.

And the truest proof of ownership was the ability to destroy the thing you owned.

Firing or exiling him was out of the question. The military would revolt and rally to Avocato's side and bye-bye empire. Executing him was tempting, but the charges would have to be iron-clad, believable, and treasonous enough to turn the army against him. Fat chance of that, given his degree of perfection. Imprisoning him was dangerous, and multiple assassination attempts had failed. If Avocato had any real sense of duty, he'd just up and keel over tomorrow and save the Lord Commander a lot of scheming. A state funeral would be very enjoyable, though the Avocato-shaped void left behind would be a colossal pain in the ass to deal with. He'd learned that lesson when they thought Avocato had been lost with the Kalibar.

That left one avenue open: promote him. Put Avocato in a position with a fancy title and no authority. Put him in charge of a weather station on Ith. He'd probably enjoy it, actually. Let him cool his heels on a ball of ice until some assassin or rebel faction or marauding wildlife found him out and eliminated him.

Appealing as that was, the Lord Commander couldn't let Avocato out of his sight without some serious leverage to control him. He presented too great a danger. He was, after all, the most talented and capable leader in the universe. Wealth and power and property couldn't sway the Ventrexian. He already possessed those things. Such methods had been tried many times in the past, and they had all failed. Only one thing really mattered to him.

His son.

A bratty child, in the Lord Commander's opinion, but then, they were all brats until he could actually make use of them. The little Ventrexian always seemed to be moving and making noise and getting into things, and Avocato brought him everywhere with him. How did Avocato abide such a nuisance and distraction? Ventrexian parenting left a lot to be desired. As far as the Lord Commander was concerned, Avocato's son would be best served in a cage.

Now there was an idea . . .

A slow, satisfied smile spread across the Lord Commander's face, displaying his pointed teeth. The boy, Little Cato, was the means of grinding Avocato under his heel. A plan was forming, a plan that would either bind Avocato to his cause forever, or provide the means to get rid of the greatest threat to his authority.

Yes . . . it was inspired. And if he got rid of Avocato, he could arrange an alliance with the Infinity Guard high command, all of whom were so very eager to be corrupted. They were too afraid of Avocato - who for all his savagery and ruthlessness was not corrupt - sweeping them aside to take that final step while the Ventrexian was in power. They were cowards, but useful ones.

And speaking of usefulness, it seemed for all his talent, Avocato had outlived his.

Besides, time was counting down. He needed to reach Final Space soon if he was to fulfill his destiny. But the loss of E35-1 was a serious setback. He needed to get it back, but he couldn't send just any flunky after it. It was too dangerous. He needed someone steady and skilled, who would respect the little destroyer's destructive powers without letting fear sway them. Otherwise he'd never see E35-1 or the person again.

Hunched on his throne, the Lord Commander glowered and planned. Security of Tera Con Prime had never been the responsibility of his generals. They were usually flung too far afield for such matters, and Avocato was always too busy. Since he couldn't be pissed at Avocato himself right now, it stood to reason in the Lord Commander's mind that he could at least be pissed at all his generals. He had enough of them that they could share his wrath. He would test them all. A trial by fire, as it were. Those that passed would be rewarded for their loyalty.

Those that failed would be dealt with. Quickly. Harshly. Permanently.

When all was said and done, Avocato would either be by his side or at his feet.

It looked as if he'd found his someone else after all.

"Eric," he snapped, sitting up as inspiration hit, "send a memo to my generals. The capitol is not as safe was we believed. From now on, I require them to be armed at all times."

"Yes, Lord Commander," groveled his hapless servant. In truth his name wasn't Eric, but the Lord Commander couldn't be bothered to learn the names of the people who served him because they rarely lived very long. They were all Eric, and the faster they learned that, the longer they lived.

"And recall all of them to Tera Con Prime. I expect them here no later than this time next week."

"Yes, Lord Commander."

"Have they found the keeper for my treasure house yet?"

"N-no, Lord Commander. Hooblot remains were discovered on the main floor, and it's 62% match for the missing keeper, Melanie DeWinter. The remains were fairly decomposed, and the scientists conjecture she might have been licked by the cadaversaur during feeding time and only made it as far as the main floor before . . . decaying. Their saliva will dissolve anything organic."

"What of E35-1?"

"T-there has not been any sign of it, Lord Commander. There was a broken window in the treasure house, and damage to the roof. The officers investigating think it m-may have escaped that way," Eric ended softly, clearly afraid the Lord Commander would unleash his wrath.

He flopped back into his throne. "Damn."