Sentience 1: Storm Clouds Gathering (17 page)

“So, what am I supposed to do about a security director in the meantime?”

“Jeff, Al has every confidence in Ike Johnson’s ability to keep your Computer Security Department running without a hitch. In fact, his primary concern seems to be that Ike will do so good a job of it, no one will miss him while he’s over here with us.”

“I wish that you would have told me all this last week, instead of Ligurri just disappearing and TAD orders hitting my in-box, out of the blue, after the fact.”

“I’m sorry about that, Jeff, I honestly am. But I spent a good portion of the past several days up to my ass in flags with a lot more stars on them, than mine.”

“I’ll accept your apology, Admiral, if you’ll accept mine. I was wrong to speak to you like that. I abused our friendship with inappropriate familiarity. It won’t happen again.”

“Works for me, Jeff.”

“But, you’re buying next time we’re at the O-Club. I need to get something back for losing Ligurri.”

Melendez laughed.

Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's

character, give him power.
-- Abraham Lincoln

Troxia Station, in orbit around the Rak Planet Troxia

Drix’ scout-ship finally arrived at Troxia almost a subcycle late, after experiencing technical difficulties en route, which necessitated an unplanned diversion to a Rak shipyard to effect repairs. Drix had not announced his arrival prior to docking. He wanted to surprise Raan, just to see his reaction to Drix’ incredible and unprecedented metamorphosis. If there was one person that Drix could share his newly discovered relationship to the supreme-master with, it was Raan, as endorsed by Xior himself.

Drix was first down the gangway after the scout-ship docked and its hatches were opened. The dock crew appeared startled by the sudden appearance of a snow-white Rak wearing snow-white imperial silks. Drix had brushed a bit of his mane down over his forehead to cover his rank-stone… something virtually unheard of, as Rak always displayed their rank proudly and prominently. Drix didn’t want rumors reaching Raan before he did.

Having been escorted everywhere by imperial marines and confined for most of his last visit to Troxia, Drix was consulting a station layout diagram on a bulkhead when a group of six, obviously intoxicated, warriors wearing the green silks of Region-4 accosted him.

“Well, well… what have we here?” slurred the green weapons-master, who was the highest ranking of the bunch. “A little lost imperial who’s so ashamed of his puny rank-stone that he covers it up?”

Although Drix was no longer affiliated with Region-3, the old animosities he’d grown up with towards Region-4 didn’t just go away, but flared to incandescent brilliance at these inebriated bullies disgracing themselves and their region. Still, Drix truly didn’t want to reveal his rank, nor get blood all over his immaculate white silks, so he mastered the impulse to simply slash the leader's throat and instead replied meekly, “Ah, thank you for assisting me. Can you please direct me to Region-Master Raan’s office? I have an urgent dispatch for him from the Supreme-Master that he needs to see right away.”

Sure enough, the mere mention of Region-Master Raan and Supreme-Master Xior gave them pause — but not quite enough pause to entice them to simply give him directions and let him continue on his way.

“So, it’s Region-Master Raan’s office that you’d be wanting, eh?” slurred the green weapons-master. “How about you
earn
our cooperation through a little test of courage by some one-on-one with my little friend here?” The weapons-master nodded towards a green deputy weapons-master who was one of the largest Raknii that Drix had ever seen. He was almost as large as a
Raknaa
, a subspecies of the Raknii race having larger bodies, yet smaller brains, usually found only in assault marine units, or jobs requiring incredible physical strength and endurance. Drix wondered if this warrior might be a half-breed between the two.

“No, thank you,” Drix responded. “I truly don’t have the time and I really wouldn’t want to have to explain to the Region-Master
why
I arrived late, wearing silks covered in blood. I will be going now, if you don’t mind.” Drix turned to slip between two of the warriors blocking the corridor, while palming a shock-wand in each hand, which he had previously hidden in the sleeves of his blouse.

“Oh, but we DO mind,” snarled the green weapons-master, grabbing Drix by the shoulder. Drix pivoted, bringing the body of the shock wand in his right paw down across the bones of the weapons-master’s arm, breaking them both cleanly. As he pivoted, he fired the shock-wand in his left paw back over his shoulder, directly into the chest of the massive crossbreed. The weapons-master howled in pain and dropped back, just as the giant crossbreed warrior dropped to the deck engulfed in involuntary muscle spasms.

Just as his next adversary began to recover and move to attack, Drix spun and landed a staggering kick to the side of his head, which dropped him into complete unconsciousness while still on his feet. Drix then shot a fourth adversary with his remaining shock-wand, and pulled up into a classic combat-master’s defensive stance holding the expended shock-wands in each paw as obvious weapons.

“Get him!” cried the maimed weapons-master, clutching his broken arm against his chest.

“Wait!” cried one of the two green warriors still standing. “When he moved, I saw something sparkle from beneath that shock of mane he has covering his rank-stone. This guy could be Mid or High-Rak.”

“Aw, you’re seeing things,” groused the wounded weapons-master, still seething in pain. “What would a High-Rak be doing covering up his rank-stone in the first place? Get him!”

“What a High-Rak
might
be doing covering up his rank-stone would be High-Rak business, and quite none of yours, now wouldn’t it?” Drix asked, with frigid menace in his voice. “Pick up this litter and get them to medical before I have your fleet-master disciplined for your drunken foolishness… NOW!” Drix thundered with the unmistakable tone of total command.

One of the green warriors obediently bent to pick up his unconscious companion while the second glanced towards the wounded weapons-master for guidance. The weapons-master reached for a weapon with his good arm. Drix extended one of the expended shock-wands and shot him right through his rank-stone with the resounding blast of an ancient projectile weapon. As the weapons-master’s body folded to the floor with staring, dead eyes, the remaining green warriors stared in horrified shock.

Shouts and the pounding of booted feet responded to the explosive sound of the blast that had killed the drunken weapons-master. Drix calmly walked away from the scene and took a lift to the upper decks of the station, where the offices of the station administrators were located.

It took a while before security finally documented the story told by the intoxicated green warriors they had taken into custody — of the white-pelted imperial of undetermined rank who had single-handedly immobilized three warriors and killed a fourth, all the while, being incredibly polite about it all. At least the perpetrator shouldn’t be all that hard to find, if that part about the white pelt was to be believed.

Drix found Raan’s office and entered the foyer where Raan’s aide was stationed.

“Is Region-Master Raan available?” Drix asked.

“Who may I say is calling? And why do you have your rank-stone covered by your mane?” asked the aide.

Drix came closer to the aide and lifted his mane enough to allow him to see it, while making a shushing motion with his paw. “You are to say nothing of this until after I have seen the region-master. Now, again… Is Region-Master Raan available?”

The aide gaped and finally sputtered, “I must announce you, Quadrant-Master.”

“I will announce myself. Do not spoil my surprise.” With that, Drix smoothed his mane back down, recovering his rank-stone. He palmed the entry plate and stepped through when the door opened.

Raan, surprised to hear his office door opening without an announcement, looked up irritably and was stunned for a moment, thinking it was Supreme-Master Xior stepping through the doorway. Confusion was thoroughly evident on Raan’s face as Drix came to a stop before Raan’s desk and gave him the traditional Raknii cross-chest salute. Raan instinctively returned it, as he gazed more closely at the familiar, yet maddeningly unfamiliar features of the young Rak warrior standing stiffly before him. Finally recognition dawned, as he enquired, “Drik?”

Drix smiled and said, “I wondered if you would recognize me with a white pelt, Region-Master, but I’m no longer called Drik, but Drix — the name my true sire gave me at my birth.”

Raan’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Your true sire… Xior?”

Drix grinned. “You are very astute, Region-Master. Yes, as amazing as it sounds, Supreme-Master Xior is indeed my sire — and he has named me his heir, but that’s just between the two of us right now.”

Raan was truly overjoyed at this news and came out from behind his desk to enwrap Drix in a massive hug of affection. Drix was a bit startled, but responded warmly to Raan’s unexpected emotional display, and hugged him back tightly. When they broke, Raan flipped the mane covering Drix’ rank-stone and asked, “So, I take it that your new rank is to be a surprise as well?”

Drix grinned and lifted his mane, so Raan could see it. “It’s your old one. Xior said that we’d both appreciate that gesture. It came as a bit of a shock to me too.”

Raan grinned back at the youngster and gathered him in for another hug. “This is absolutely wonderful! Best news I’ve had in a long time,” Raan beamed. “But I have some news for you, too.

“It seems that your friend Tzal has discovered some new star-faring alien prey for us to play with.”

The new white-pelted quadrant-master had certainly created a fearsome reputation for himself by the time details of his single-handed defeat of six green warriors and his summary execution of the belligerent Region-4 weapons-master became known. That reputation was even further enhanced when Raan called Drix into his office to face an entire delegation of green bloused Region-4 fleet-masters, subfleet-masters and squadron-masters, who had called on Raan to petition him to discipline the new quadrant-master for his not simply showing his rank-stone when challenged and thus ending that “unfortunate misunderstanding,” before it escalated into bloodshed.

With Raan looking on quietly observing, Drix studied his accusers, who shrank visibly under the intense scrutiny of those eerie blue eyes peering out from that equally strange white pelt. Whatever they might have expected to accomplish in their mission, they certainly never expected that Raan would react to their petition by summoning the perpetrator himself to confront them.

“Is it now accepted practice within Region-4, that the doings and reasonings of High-Rak be questioned or judged by their inferiors?” asked Drix.

“No, Master,” responded one green fleet-master, who had been selected to speak for the group. “We simply believed that an error in judgment had been made and we brought our logic to be judged by the region-master.”

“Who has turned the judgment of your logic over to me,” Drix responded menacingly. “You admit then, that contrary to the established authority structure of our people, you dare to judge my response to being confronted and physically assaulted by a group of undisciplined, intoxicated bullies, to whom I had shown nothing but utmost courtesy?”

“Master… forgive our presumption, but could you not have found a better, less violent way to resolve the issue, without killing? All you needed do was to reveal your rank-stone and they would have groveled before you begging forgiveness for their error.”

“Their error, yes... What exactly
was
their error then, in your opinion, Fleet-Master?”

“They should never have attempted to sport with a Rak of unknown rank, Quadrant-Master.”

“Sport? Is that what you call it in Region-4, Fleet-Master? Because my rank was unknown to them, they obviously assumed that I was of lower rank, alone — and therefore at six-to-one odds, an easy victim for their perverse pleasures taken in tormenting someone they thought weaker than they. Is that what passes as acceptable ‘sport’ within Region-4, now?”

“No, Master. They were intoxicated and their judgment impaired.”

“They were undisciplined!” Drix roared. “As are all of you. You
dare
presume that the wretched life of that abhorrent, drunken piece of green-clad offal was more important than my reasons for wishing my rank to remain concealed at that moment? Is that what I’m hearing?”

The green fleet-master squirmed like a fish, impaled on a spear. “We… ah… we hadn’t thought of it in that way, Master. Forgive us, please.”

“Ever since I first stepped foot on this station, I have had absolutely no problems whatsoever with Raknii from any region, except for those of Region-4. The greens I have encountered, have invariably been drunken, unruly, insolent and pretentious. Is
this,
then, what Region-Master Blug sends to us as representing his very best warriors when Supreme-Master Xior seeks to afford them the honors of hunting alien prey? Is this
really
the best that Blug has to offer to the imperial fleet?”

The greens were all intently staring at their boots as Drix hammered them with his questions. They had no answers.

“Are
you
really the best that Region-Master Blug has to offer?” Drix continued. “Or, is it possible that he might be purposely defrauding the imperial fleet and therefore essaying to subtly insult Supreme-Master Xior, himself?”

Horrified, the greens all looked up sharply and pleaded, “Oh, no, Master! Region-Master Blug is Supreme-Master Xior’s most loyal servant. If fault there be, the fault is ours alone.”

“What has been the fate of those drunken fools who accosted me, without provocation?”

“They have been disciplined, Master.”

“What discipline, exactly, has been administered?”