Nalshanda's body-length wings were wrapped around him, since it always took a little time to recover garments from subspace. Darkblade lowered his gaze to the floor as he heard the distinct sound of Nalshanda's wings unfolding.

Report, young one, he ordered curtly.

That was another thing that annoyed Darkblade. Where he had at least had the courtesy to address the Warlord by his name, as well his title, Nalshanda had never even acknowledged him as a Teknoman. Gritting his teeth and keeping his head lowered, Darkblade pushed his annoyance aside.

Yes, Tekno-Warlord Nalshanda.

Darkblade lowered his mental barriers and felt Nalshanda enter his thoughts. Memory-sharing was the way of Teknomen, and much simpler than wasting time with words. Images flowed through his mind as he remembered, the planet, the Hork-Bajir, the Yeerks.

Memories of the Sub-Visser were the most vivid though, however much he hated the vile little Yeerk.

You told him about us, Nalshanda hissed.

I told him about myself, Tekno-Warlord Nalshanda.

Darkblade gasped in pain as Nalshanda pressed on his mind, tearing through it for an explanation. Nalshanda had never possessed the finer traits such as subtlety or patience, and Darkblade often suffered for that lack. Much as he did now. He felt a rivulet of blood trickling out of his right ear, as his body reacted to the telepathic intrusion.

Seeming satisfied, Nalshanda's awareness disappeared from his mind without warning. Darkblade hardly had time to breathe a soft sigh of relief, before Nalshanda spoke again.

This Sub-Visser could become a threat. I want you to follow him, take one of the tek-seeds with you, and do not return.

There could be no possible doubt that Nalshanda enjoyed this. Darkblade gritted his teeth again, a threat? A threat?! The Sub-Visser's mind was weaker than that of a Galia drone, and that was saying something.

Are you questioning my orders? Nalshanda demanded.

Questioning his orders? Darkblade felt like laughing, and bit the tip of his tongue in an effort not to do so.

Questioning orders indeed.

He was questioning what little reason Nalshanda possessed. A low, angry growl alerted Darkblade, and pain shot through his head as Nalshanda attacked telepathically. His mouth open in a silent scream, Darkblade felt the gash in his ear widening, and tasted his own blood as the skin of his throat split open.

Never question me again, is that clear?

Perfectly.

Turning swiftly away, not even bothering to watch the tentacle-wall reform itself, Darkblade stalked out. He was seething with rage. Being sent off on some trivial errand, after a creature who could not in any way be considered a threat to any but the weakest Radam warrior was the worst insult Nalshanda had ever dealt him.

Hands tightly fisted at his sides, Darkblade stared resolutely, unblinkingly forward. A fellow Teknoman, one Darkblade had often conversed with named Shaika, came upon him just as he had reached the teknopod he had come to consider his own.

Is something the matter my friend?

Oh no, everything is utterly perfect, Darkblade sent, his thoughts practically dripping with false sincerity.

Nalshanda has offended you again, I take it.

The teknopod glowed an intense crimson, before bursting open to reveal a single large yellowish-red ovoid. A tek-seed. Given enough time, a single one could spawn an entire brood of teknopods. Removing it, he turned back to Shaika.

Better than that Shaika, I have been discharged.

Discharged? What would provoke him to that? Granted, he is not fond of you, but you are an able warrior.

Storing the tek-seed in subspace, Darkblade leaned his forehead against Shaika's. Letting his mental barriers fall once again, he relaxed in a way Nalshanda's presence had not allowed him to. Shaika stroked his hair and he felt somewhat better, Darkblade almost wanted to laugh. This entire situation seemed so inane when examined from a different vantage point.

So then, laugh.

Were it only that simple, Shaika. Besides, I would never want to belittle Nalshanda's gracious hospitality.

You and your insincere sincerity, I cannot even tell when you are being completely forthright anymore, Shaika lamented, his tone hovering between playful and offended.

Oh, come now Shaika, we have known one another for thousands of years. Have you ever known me to be completely forthright?

Do you truly wish for me to answer that?

Darkblade laughed then, long and hard, until he would have fallen had Shaika not been there to support him. Once he had regained his composure Darkblade smiled at his old friend, Shaika grinned back, brushing a gentle kiss against the other's forehead.

Leaning their heads together, the two said a last, silent farewell. Turning, Darkblade strode off down the corridors leading to the main airlock. Transforming once he was out of Shaika's line of sight, Darkblade flew for the remainder of his journey. Reaching the open airlock he didn't pause and he didn't look back, instead giving his rockets more power.

His eyes shone with brilliant crimson light as he set off on his hunt. An animalistic rage making them glow all the brighter. Hunting down one being aboard one ship, even when you knew your hunting ground as well as Darkblade knew this quadrant of the galaxy, was not going to be an easy task. Perhaps this was how his fate and that of the Sub-Visser's were intertwined.