Chapter 7
November 11th, 2241: Bridge of Kha'Q'Cali, Narn Ardun Attack Fleet
In olden times on Earth (sometimes known as Terra) there is a legend of 'the kingdom lost for want of a nail'. No one knows how or where the legend arose, but like many quaint Terran stories, it makes evident a universal truth. This particular legend shows how sometimes the smallest of things can alter history. This is the premise of the story (as it is most often told): Two kingdoms fight a desperate war. Whether these kingdoms are noble or evil is lost to time, we only need know that the situation is desperate for both sides. A battle is being fought, and one king needs reinforcements or he shall lose the day. He sends a messenger to his allies requesting they send soldiers to the battle in progress. The messenger is dispatched on a riding animal, known as a horse (a large four-legged beast of questionable bravery and intelligence). These horses have a hard foot known as a hoof that must be protected by a metal shoe when they are being ridden. This shoe is nailed to the hoof of the horse.
The legend goes like this: A messenger is sent by the king for reinforcements. The messenger rides his horse hard. While riding, the horse's shoe looses a nail, causing the shoe to fall off. This causes the horse to stumble and break its leg, thereby laming the horse (apparently on Old Terra, at this time the horse would also be slain). As the horse cannot be ridden, and humans are much slower when running than horses, the messenger does not arrive in time for the king's allies to send reinforcements, and thus the king looses his battle. The loss of that particular battle proves his undoing, and in the end, the king looses his war, and his kingdom (and from what can be gleaned of Old Terran politics, most likely his life as well).
This is a rather dry retelling, it is much more charming told in the Terran idiom of the day: "For want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of the shoe the horse was lost; for want of the horse the message was lost; for want of the message the battle was lost; for want of the battle the war was lost; for want of the war the kingdom was lost, all for want of a nail."
What was once true on Old Terra is often still true today. Sometimes the most insignificant of things, the smallest of mistakes, can alter the future. It can change it in ways that cannot be foreseen, even by the most skilled or wise. Whether it changes for good or ill, only time can tell.
Leftenant Gha'Lon had only been recently transferred to the Kha'Q'Cali. She was by far the largest ship on which he had ever served, one of the new G'Quan-class heavy cruisers. Though the technology was based on captured Centauri designs, it was one of the best wholly Narn warships made. Only the newest Bin'Tak dreadnoughts were larger, or more powerful. It made Leftenant Gha'Lon very proud to serve on such a warship at such a young age. He was also terrified beyond belief. The Kha'Q'Cali was hurtling through hyperspace faster than she should be. Her main reactors were running at 111% to push this fast. She was the senior member of a four-ship squadron with three other G'Quan-class cruisers racing to the Ardun system. They had not been part of the plan for the initial attack. But things had probably gone seriously awry at Ardun if they were being called up so quickly and in such panic.
He had heard enough scuttlebutt to know that the battle plan called for slipping several squadrons of lighter warships into the Ardun system, presenting the Centauri with a flexible front. But yet again, the thrice-damned Lord Jentavus Roglark had beaten them to the field.
Just now the klaxon had gone off: five minutes to jump. Everyone not already on duty was rushing to secondary stations. Gha'Lon was running at full speed to the bridge, where his station was secondary navigator. He had taken a wrong turn as he was still not familiar enough with the passageways of the ship, but he realized his mistake and was now almost to the bridge. Just two more turns and he would be at the final corridor. He momentarily felt dizzy and paused to lean against the wall. He felt his head and was appalled at the dryness of his skin. He must be running a fever. He hadn't felt good all morning, but didn't think he should report to Medbay. He was just young enough, and prideful enough, to not want to admit any weakness. "I'll be fine once I can sit down," he thought. Just two more turns and he would be at the bridge and he could sit at his station.
As he came around the next turn, the second to last, a full squad of Commandos crashed into him from a side corridor. Gha'Lon and two Commandos went down in a tumble of arms, legs, weapons, and body armor. Though the Commandos were unharmed, Gha'Lon was not so lucky. His unprotected head was smashed to the deck under the weight of the Commandos, and then all was black.
Gha'Lon gasped and opened his eyes. A terrible smell filled his nostrils as he regained consciousness. A Commando sergeant was squatting down next to him holding a capsule under his nose. It took a moment for Gha'Lon to focus his eyes, and when he did a wave of nausea washed over him. "Sorry sir, we didn't see you there," the sergeant apologized. The sergeant stood quickly and offered a hand to the still recumbent Gha'Lon. He took the sergeant's hand as he was pulled upright. Another wave of nausea accompanied by dizziness came over him and he staggered. The klaxon warbling in the background seemed to come from far away to Gha'Lon.
One of the Commandos said, "Sergeant I think he hit his head pretty hard. Maybe we should get him to Medbay?"
The sergeant looked at his timepiece and shook his head saying, "No time." The sergeant grasped Gha'Lon's shoulders, straightening him up and looking into his eyes: neither pupil was dilated, though his eyes were a bit glassy. "No concussion," the sergeant thought. He asked, "Will you be all right sir?"
Gha'Lon waved him off saying, "Of course Sergeant. I'll be fine, I feel like an idiot. Get to your station and I'll get to mine. We are jumping in a couple of minutes." The Commandos snapped a quick salute then jogged off to their station. Gha'Lon slumped against the wall once they were out of sight. He wondered what he had contracted. He made it the last few yards to the bridge. He inhaled deeply and did his best to walk straight, head high.
The bridge of the Kha'Q'Cali was a busy hive of activity. Leftenant Gha'Lon sidled over to his station and checked their telemetry. His vision was slightly unfocused and he shook his head to clear it. Though it cleared his vision, the shake had set off a piercing headache. "This is not good," he thought. It reminded him of jeflere, but one had to be exposed to someone with an active case, and he knew of no one that he could have come into contact with that had it. "If we weren't going into battle in less than two minutes I would report to Medbay right now," Gha'Lon thought, regretting his earlier decision. He closed his eyes thinking, "I hope we don't have jeflere on this ship." Jeflere was a debilitating (though not fatal) disease that passed in about a ten-day. But until it passed, fever, nausea, skin sloughing, and eventually vomiting with mild delirium were its symptoms. No cure had been effected yet, just prevention.
"Leftenant Navigator Gha'Lon," the Captain said.
Gha'Lon raised his head and replied, "Yes sir!" He was glad he did not have to come to attention, he wasn't sure standing was a good idea right now.
"Gha'Lon, you must assume full navigation duties this day," the Captain said.
Gha'Lon quailed, fearing he might not be up to the challenge. "Sir, I don't think that is a good..."
Captain Second Rank Raephon interrupted him sharply, "Are you somehow incapable Navigator Gha'Lon?"
Leftenant Gha'Lon swallowed hard and made his choice, "No Captain, I can fulfill my duties." Saying it out loud made it seem more real.
Captain Raephon smiled grimly saying, "Very good Leftenant! Senior Navigator Se'Flor is under medical supervision." Gha'Lon stared at the Captain who shrugged and quietly said, "He has contracted jeflere."
Gha'Lon inwardly groaned thinking, "By all that is holy, it is jeflere." By tonight he would certainly be vomiting, by tomorrow his skin would be thickening, only to shed in a few days. That was assuming he would survive the battle and even be alive by tonight. "Well," he thought, "even ill I am probably the best navigator compared to the others available in the squadron." The crews of other three ships in the squadron had been scratched up mostly from base crews and trainees. The other three ships had still been gathering crews after the disaster at Kotac. They only had a skeleton professional crew. Of the four, Kha'Q'Cali was the only line ship with a full regular crew, though one of the other cruisers, the Wo'Fan, had a slightly more experienced crew than the other two.
Captain Raephon sat back and nodded to the comms officer. He inhaled deeply then began to speak to the crew, "Citizens! We are rushing to battle in the Ardun system. I expect everyone of you to take some Centauri lives before we are finished!" The crew cheered loudly. Gha'Lon's blood stirred with pride as he envisioned the upcoming battle.
The Captain continued, "Citizens, I have one other thing to say." As he paused, the crews of all four ships hung on his words. "I have been informed that House Lord Jentavus Roglark, the Assassin of Kotac, is personally leading the battle at Ardun!" A chorus of growls and epithets rolled through the squadron. Lord Roglark had killed over a quarter of a million Narns at Kotac, not to mention destroying an entire fleet and wrecking the space station. The entire Ardun assault had been knocked off schedule by his destruction, even now forcing most of this squadron to have barely trained crews.
Captain Raephon waited for the cacophony to subside some before he continued, "We shall destroy his bloated flagship, the Terhali's Satisfaction, and send his soul to whatever hell he deserves!" Another roaring cheer met this statement.
Gha'Lon grimly went about assuming full navigational control at the main navigation station rather than his own secondary chair. It only took a few moments and he had the helm. Another wave of dizziness hit him. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth trying to stave it off. They were one minute from jumping into the Ardun system. Even now the comms officer was receiving telemetry data from the Narn forces already in combat, transferring it real-time to Gha'Lon and the Captain.
Gha'Lon felt the Captain grip his shoulder as he looked at the simple tactical images of the battle in progress on Gha'Lon's screen. Captain Raephon pointed to the icons of a group of heavy Centauri warships swinging around the planet to hammer a large squadron of Dag'Kars. As the fragile Dag'Kars came apart under the fierce Centauri bombardment the Captain said, "There. That's the thrice-damned bastard. The Octurion battleship anchoring that squadron. There is our prey." His pointed finger closed with the rest of his hand into a tight fist. "Gha'Lon," he said, "I want you to jump us in on their port flank. Make sure we are out of their front arc, and all of our weapons bear." He tightened his grip on Gha'Lon's shoulder saying, "You can do it my boy. I am counting on you."
Captain Raephon stepped back to his chair as pride filled Gha'Lon again. He would help to win this battle, and send Lord Roglark to his just deserts. He set the jump clock, clearing his throat he said, "Prepare to jump on my mark in thirty seconds." He, and everyone else in the squadron, watched the clock count down. At ten seconds Gha'Lon turned to the Captain for the order. Captain Raephon sharply nodded, showing Gha'Lon an honor by allowing him to give the order. Gha'Lon's hand was poised over the lever. As the clock hit zero he said, "Jump!"
Just as it did, the most severe of the nausea and dizziness swept over him and he nearly swooned. It made his actions a half a second slow as he pulled the lever returning them to realspace. The squadron was just slightly out of the perfect approach Captain Raephon had asked for, and Gha'Lon quailed as he saw the damning information on his screen. He had failed, and the future would change. The nail had been lost.
At that precise second, many light-years away, Lady Morella awoke with a gasp from her restless sleep. She bolted upright into a sitting position: Lord Roglark's fate was upon him. But something was not right, something unexpected had happened. The future had not been set and was now awry. She covered her mouth muffling a shriek of horror as she realized her clear vision of the future had become clouded. In the grand scheme of things to come, one small pebble had incorrectly fallen out of place and started to tumble: the avalanche would follow.
At Ardun the scintillating jump point opened to realspace. The four Narn heavy cruisers swept out into staggered line, trying valiantly to keep the Centauri battleship centered in their front weapons arc. But as fate would have it, only two of the four could make the maneuver. The first two out had the least experienced crews, and Gha'Lon saw making the tight turn was beyond their ability. The third cruiser, the Wo'Fan, was able to make the turn, center-lining the Centauri battleship. Though he had not been able to open the jump point at the correct coordinates, Gha'Lon was able to turn the Kha'Q'Cali just enough to bring all of the forward weapons to bear. Even the incredibly lethal heavy laser cannon, running down the centerline of the Narn cruiser, was properly sighted on the Centauri battleship.
Though the Centauri had no chance to turn to properly face the just-arrived Narn squadron that did not matter as the Narn squadron had come out in their forward arc. Nothing prevented them from opening fire. Vast amounts of energy vomited forth from the three Centauri battlecruisers and the one battleship. Bolts and beams of blue, orange, and red engulfed the Wo'Fan and the Kha'Q'Cali. Gha'Lon was knocked back into his chair from the concussion as alarms and shouts filled the air. The lighting flickered out, only to be replaced with the violet emergency lighting. Gha'Lon checked his screen: the exemplary Centauri gunnery had inflicted massive amounts of damage on the Kha'Q'Cali. The engines were damaged, and several batteries of weapons had been knocked out. The Wo'Fan was in even worse shape: she had her engines knocked out entirely and was floating adrift.
Captain Raephon shouted over the din, "All ships, all weapons! Target the Octurion and fire!" The Kha'Q'Cali shuddered as her own weapons fired, along with all of the bearing weapons from the rest of the squadron. For just a moment the image of the Centauri battleship was obscured by the power of the Narn salvo. Bolts from the ion cannons, and the titanic lancing crimson beams of the heavy laser cannons smashed into the hull of the Centauri battleship. Just moments behind the beams were the energy mines. Akin to Earth Force's nuclear missiles, they were flung out down range at the Centauri squadron, exploding in a white-hot flash of fusion energy, damaging anything within their blast radius, including the three Centauri battlecruisers.
A massive cheer went up across the Narn squadron as the shots hit home. When the flash of the explosions cleared, the Centauri flagship, Lord Roglark's own Terhali's Satisfaction, was listing to port and trailing glowing wreckage. Fires could be seen on every deck. "I hope the bastard died swallowing flame," Gha'Lon thought, choking back bile as he tried not to vomit.
Captain Raephon's voice could be heard again over the noise, "Navigator Gha'Lon, signal the 'All Stop' to keep us in arc! They won't be able to turn quick enough to target us with their forward weapons!" Gha'Lon signaled the 'All Stop' for the Kha'Q'Cali. A ship as large as the Kha'Q'Cali could not stop instantly, and it coasted forward a bit closer to the Wo'Fan. The cruiser Wo'Fan hung in space, vainly trying to repair their engines so they could maneuver. The two forward cruisers tried to come about, but their inexperienced crews were unable to properly execute the evolution.
Gha'Lon stared listlessly at the image of the Centauri squadron. The battleship, Terhali's Satisfaction, was painted in gold and Roglark blue, though burned and blasted. Abruptly she began to move. Gha'Lon heard the Captain say, "She can't turn, we are too close. She can't turn. She can't get us into arc again." Like a great dragon of old, the battleship swung around quickly, far too quick for a ship of that size. In his short career with the Narn Deep Space Fleet, Gha'Lon had never seen a Centauri capital ship turn so quickly. Two of the Primus battlecruisers, painted like the battleship in what could be called the 'classic' Centauri style, though also in House Roglark blue, turned in a much more natural way, one pivoting about completely. The last Primus, painted in the newer Republican style barely needed to turn at all. Gha'Lon realized the Centauri were not targeting the Kha'Q'Cali or the Wo'Fan, but one of the front cruisers that had been unable to come about.
Captain Raephon realized it too, but he saw that they were only targeting the neophyte cruiser with their energy weapons. Both of the Roglark battlecruisers and the battleship were also armed with mass drivers. Only in very rare instances could mass drivers be used for anything other than base or planetary bombardment. Using them in ship-to-ship combat was nearly impossible as ships moved far too fast for the mass driver spheres to impact unless the target had been completely stopped...or adrift.
Sure enough, the mass drivers mounted on the Centauri ships began to wind up, their magnetic coils beginning to glow. Captain Raephon's tactical display showed they were targeting the adrift Wo'Fan. "By all that is holy," the Captain thought, "with that many mass drivers they will blow up the Wo'Fan inside our formation!"
All of the Centauri ships fired at once. Every matter cannon, battle laser, and ion cannon salvoed into the second cruiser in line. That fire alone was nearly enough to kill every Narn on board and make the ship stricken, but for the thrice-damned Lord Roglark it was not enough. A moment behind the energy weapons, four coruscating mass driver spheres spat out of their launchers and smashed into the helplessly adrift Wo'Fan. The results surpassed the admirable and actually attained the awesome.
All four mass driver spheres hit the Wo'Fan in the bow, and crashed lengthwise through the ship. Captain Raephon was actually able to track their destructive course within the ship. Abruptly one of the spheres spat out from amidships, then the Wo'Fan exploded. A titanic wave of flaming debris and radiation reached out and engulfed the Kha'Q'Cali, causing more extensive damage. The explosion wave front haloed the hapless, nearly dead neophyte cruiser, and then it exploded as well. Both explosions caught the front cruiser severely damaging it. She listed to starboard, fires on several decks, venting atmosphere. Then her drives flickered and went out. She was floating adrift just as the Wo'Fan was only moments ago.
Captain Second Rank Raephon was slumped in his chair, staring through the smoke and fire at the tactical screen. The wreckage of his command continued to burn as his men continued to die. The only saving grace was that it seemed the double explosion front had also further damaged the Centauri battleship. It was barely limping along, still trailing wreckage, most of the decks still burning a merry hell. Captain Raephon knew if he could get the Kha'Q'Cali around, he might be able to finish off the battleship, guaranteeing Lord Roglark's death.
"Navigator Gha'Lon, pivot us to two-six-two." Though the Kha'Q'Cali would not be moving, a pivot to that heading would point all of the forward weapons at the Centauri battleship as she crept away.
Gha'Lon, slumped over his console, had not acknowledged the order. Captain Raephon yelled, "Gha'Lon, pivot us to two-six-two!" The weapons officer leaned across the intervening console grabbing the silent Navigator. Gha'Lon's head lolled back revealing the fatal wound on his throat. Captain Raephon jumped up out of his chair and quickly crossed the few steps to Gha'Lon's station. He pushed the corpse out of his way, stabbing the controls that would pivot the stopped Kha'Q'Cali to the new heading, and hopefully redemption.
But as it had been all day, Mistress Fate had other plans. The Kha'Q'Cali was too badly damaged to properly pivot, even had Captain Raephon's order been followed immediately. Lord Roglark's flagship, Terhali's Satisfaction, quietly slid past on the Narn cruiser's starboard side. The explosion of the Wo'Fan had silenced all weapons on the starboard side.
"Captain," the comms officer said, "we are being hailed from hyperspace. The next relief squadrons are less than three minutes away."
"Order them to jump in on our position," Captain Raephon replied. "Three more minutes and I'll put you in your grave Centauri!" he thought.
The comms officer hit several buttons on his console in frustration. "I can't get the encryption protocols to function!" he yelled in a near shriek.
Captain Raephon slammed his fist on the navigation console then barked, "Broadcast in the clear then!"
The comms officer transmitted in the clear. After only a few moments he spoke up again, "Captain, the Centauri must have heard our message, they are opening jump points to hyperspace! They are leaving!"
Captain Raephon checked the tactical from the late Gha'Lon's station. Several jump points had opened to hyperspace around Ardun and the Centauri were using them to retreat. On the starboard side of the Kha'Q'Cali one of the Centauri Primus battlecruisers, the one with the Republican paint scheme, had opened a jump point that was even now was being used by the crippled battleship.
But even still, it was not enough for the Centauri to simply leave. As each Primus battlecruiser moved to the jump point past the adrift neophyte Narn cruiser, they poured weapons fire into her. To add one final insult to injury, the last Roglark battlecruiser shot a final mass driver sphere at her, hitting the bridge area, crashing through the now dark drives, breaking her spine. Internal explosions ripped through the unfortunate Narn cruiser, causing her to nearly capsize.
And then the Centauri were gone, leaving only the destruction they caused as evidence that they were ever there. Captain Second Rank Raephon walked back to his command chair and slumped into it, realizing for the next two minutes he was the commanding officer of the Ardun system.
In hyperspace, Lord Jentavus Roglark was seething. Though the fires were out, the smoke still hung on the bridge. Terhali's Satisfaction was heavily damaged, more heavily damaged that she had ever been. She would have to be sent back to Quadrant 1 for repairs as she was too heavily damaged to continue at the front. Reports from the damage control teams were coming over the inter-ship comms, adding to the noise from the damaged engines.
Now that they were out of danger, Lord Roglark crossed the bridge to what remained of the Admiral's Walk. He was forced to dodge some of the larger pieces of debris that dotted the floor. Some were still smoldering. Crewmembers were dragging the dead to one side of the Admiral's Walk. Just inside the Walk, Captain Classion was laying on the deck being tended to by a crewman. Lord Roglark stopped and knelt down next to him. "How is he?" Lord Roglark asked the crewman.
Captain Classion opened his eyes saying, "I am well enough my Lord."
The crewman nodded his head in agreement saying, "I have stopped the bleeding my Lord"
"Good," Lord Roglark replied. In battle it was not uncommon for Centauri to bleed out. Despite all of their advancements in medicine, no scientist had been able to synthesize Centauri blood. "Are you in pain Captain?"
Captain Classion said, "I feel fine my Lord."
The crewman said, "I have administered syrup of pyrpis my Lord."
Syrup of pyrpis was a potent painkiller. Often used illicitly as a pleasure drug, it could be highly addictive if taken for too long. "Be careful how much you give him," Lord Roglark cautioned.
The crewman nodded, knowing of the addictive properties of the syrup, "He should be fine until a medical team arrives my Lord."
As if summoned by the crewman's words, a medical team trooped onto the bridge. Lord Roglark stood and motioned them over to the remains of the Admiral's Walk. They hustled over and got to work on the Captain. They applied various bracings to the Captain's body, then hoisted him up onto an antigrav stretcher. The Chief of the team saluted Lord Roglark and said, "The Captain is in no immediate danger my Lord. With your permission we will move him to the medical section."
Lord Roglark nodded his permission. He grasped Captain Classion's arm above the wrist in farewell. The Captain weakly returned the grasp. "Heal quickly Thendon, I shall need you before long."
Captain Thendon Classion gave a ghost of a smile saying, "I shall Jentavus." The medical Chief cleared his throat, and Lord Roglark gave Thendon's arm one last squeeze then let the medical team take him.
Lord Roglark watched them go. The ventilators had cleared more of the smoke, but it was far from gone. He straightened his shoulders and said, "Comms!"
The secondary communications officer snapped around in his chair saying, "Yes my Lord?"
Lord Roglark strode across the bridge to the comms officer's station. He said, "Signal Captain Arrado on the Antharcus. Inform him I shall be shifting the flag to Antharcus. Tell him to heave to and await my arrival." He paused to think a moment then continued, "Also signal the Dioteges. Inform them they are to escort Terhali's Satisfaction back to the shipyard at Quadrant 1. They are to make best speed back, and to take Terhali's Satisfaction in tow if necessary." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace next to the communications station. After a moment he continued, "Fleet-wide orders: All ships damaged at more than twenty-five percent are to return with Terhali's Satisfaction. All wounded that can be moved are to be transferred to ships returning home, and some of the unwounded crew from those leaving are to be apportioned across the remaining ships that are staying behind."
"Whom shall I signal to stay behind my Lord?" he asked.
Lord Roglark snapped around and stepped up to the Captain's console. He swore under his breath as he had forgotten the explosion that had injured Thendon had also destroyed the Captain's console. He looked up and glanced around the bridge saying, "Who has a command-level console functioning?"
The survey officer jumped up and stood at attention. He said, "My console functions my Lord!"
Lord Roglark walked over to the survey station and sat down saying, "My thanks Surveyor Lowien." Lord Roglark checked the fleet status reports and began sending his list to the comms station. He then addressed the comms officer, "You should have the list of those ships that are to remain. Inform the fleet."
The comms officer began his task of informing those that would leave and those that would stay. Though he had not been ordered to, he slipped in a command for Lord Roglark's shuttle to begin preflight preparatory to moving him to the Antharcus. The comms officer found it telling that Lord Roglark had chosen to shift to the Antharcus rather than the Telmane for the next battle; Captain Arrado had a reputation for being a fire-eater. Some said he was a bit bloodthirsty as well. After all, it was his ship that had fired the last mass driver at the crippled Narn cruiser.
Lord Roglark abruptly stood and left the bridge. He used the private lift that only the Admiral or Captain could use. Luckily it still worked. The lift deposited Lord Roglark just outside his private quarters. The hall lighting seemed intermittent on this deck. He palmed the door just as the power flickered again, forcing him to palm it a second time before he could go inside. A vision of chaos greeted him. The gravity had fluctuated briefly during the last part of the battle, and much of his personal belongings had crashed about his quarters. He scrounged around until he found a bottle of liquor, he didn't much care what it was. He poured a glass and quaffed it off, the sweet taste of dansilia filling his mouth. "Not what I would have chosen," he thought, but it was better than nothing.
Lord Roglark flipped one of the chairs upright and sat down. He poured another glass of the dansilia and sipped it, hardly tasting the insipid sweetness. He pondered over the last few minutes of the battle. A feeling of misgiving had fallen over him just after the start of the battle, despite the fact that the Narns were giving a rather poor showing. When his scouts in hyperspace had alerted him to the incoming Narn cruiser squadron his blood had run cold. He seemed to feel Mother Death's wings enfold him, and he abruptly knew that his dream of his death was most likely at hand.
All Centauri, male or female, were mildly prescient but usually only about their own death. Lord Roglark had dreamed off and on about his death since coming into adolescence. His dream showed him on the bridge of a vessel of war (the first time he had been on Terhali's Satisfaction he recognized the bridge). Fires burned all around, and men lay dead on the deck. He had just given an order to ramp up the engines to ramming speed. The order was obeyed. As he felt the acceleration to ram he saw himself begin a short prayer to the Great Maker. Then a terrible white light covered him, and he was gone.
But that was not how it played out. As he saw the Narn cruisers jump in he could see instinctively that they had not jumped properly. They had savaged him to be sure, but if they had jumped in properly the Narns would have been able to concentrate all of their firepower. As it was, Thendon had been injured and was unconscious, fires had burned across the bridge, and men had been killed and were lying on the deck. The moment for him to give the ramming order had come, and for a brief second he considered it, but then he saw another way. He knew they could not destroy him, he simply knew. With that thought, he gave the order to come about. They almost hadn't been able. The chief engineer had expressed dismay that they were pushing the engines too much for the maneuver. He had told the chief to "Damn the engines! Bring us about!" As it was, the chief engineer had to damage the engines to get Terhali's Satisfaction around into firing position. But oh, once they had come about...Even as badly wounded as she was, Terhali's Satisfaction had still carried the day.
Lord Roglark stood abruptly. He dashed off the remaining liquor in his glass. He felt supremely confident that he had made the right decision to come about: something somewhere, whether it was the Great Maker, or one of the other gods, or something else, had wanted him to survive. He collected a few more things that he wanted for his move to Antharcus: his favorite koltari (the traditional Centauri short sword), some clothing, one of the ancient and lethal hand-held matter guns. He almost took a holo-portrait of his family, but thought better of it. It would be best if they did not see him just now. He would need to be as ruthless as possible if the Narn were to understand they could not have Ardun or any other system in the Buffer Zone.
He packed his things into a valise and had turned to leave when something caught his eye: a small statuary. It was one of his favorites. Mother Death on her throne in full state with her six wings unfurled. In front of her was the Lord of War, a bared koltari in one hand, across his chest in an Imperial salute, a spear in his other hand, kneeling as supplicant, asking for her blessing.
After only a moment's contemplation he snatched up the statuary. He walked out of his quarters, punching in instructions for the steward staff about getting it back to proper trim during his absence. He paused at an inter-ship comms console and ordered his shuttle crew to begin their preflight, only to find the secondary communications officer had already told them earlier. "That boy is sharp." He thought.
Lord Roglark looked again at the statuary in his hand. He was in an odd mood, heady, almost fey. He abruptly put down the valise and felt an impulse to pray. He promptly dropped to one knee. He placed the statuary on the deck and drew his koltari from the valise. He crossed the sword over his chest in a salute, and then he bowed his head and began to pray. "Lord of War, mighty beyond reckoning, grant me the skill to defeat mine enemies. Instill in me the resolve to fully complete mine enemies' destruction. Send me thy divine strength that neither my shield nor sword shall falter in the defense of family and Republic." He was about to open his eyes and rise, but followed an impulse to add one more prayer. "Mother Death, the One to Whom All Must Come, I ask that thou receive the many enemies I send to thy embrace." He paused then added to his prayer, "Mother Death, delay thy call for me until I should send mine enemies to thee. He opened his eyes. A war-ready grin spread across his face as he said, "They shall come to you upon swift wings."
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