by Yakov Merkin
“Eexeecutor Daarckclaw,” he began, the armor’s speakers distorting the Snevan’s already grating voice even further. “Yoou wiill follow.” Without saying another word, the Snevan turned and walked through the rest of the soldiers, arranged in two neat lines. Darkclaw followed, bodyguards keeping close. As they passed through the company of soldiers, they closed around him in a way that made them either look like an honor guard or prisoner escort, just as the fighter escort had. He was led down a series of hallways that would turn abruptly, the escort never pausing. Darkclaw wondered for a moment if they meant to disorient him in some way, though he was confident he could find the way out if he needed to. Not that he would have the chance to do so if the Snevans decided to kill him.
He had enough to do right now keeping track of the way they were walking. While many of the hallways looked distinct, either because they seemed to be natural formations, or there was some defining feature on a wall such as an ornament or engraving, others appeared completely identical. And everything was covered in a fine layer of red dust.
The procession finally ended in an enormous room, far larger than even the Felinaris throne room had been. Once he was led inside, the Snevan soldiers dispersed without a word and took up station near the doors they had come in through. It did not take him long to spot the Felinaris delegation, which was seated at one of the tables in the room, talking amongst themselves. Before he could decide whether or not to approach them, the grand admiral spotted him and waved him over. Darkclaw complied, and nodded a greeting to her and Admiral Kharitzon, who had risen along with her.
“If you can shed any light on our current situation, it would be helpful,” he said.
“Unfortunately, they haven’t told us anything yet, we’ve been sitting here since we arrived,” the grand admiral said. “We don’t know any more than we did when we landed: They were just attacked by an Alliance task force, but I do not know why, or what their reaction will be. The supreme warlord is probably still dealing with the aftermath.”
Darkclaw considered bringing up her failure to do as requested earlier, which had not helped matters, but he did not think it would do much good at this point. “What are we expected to do until we are summoned?” He hoped this would be the last time he would have to submit himself to the whims of another ruler. While on Felinar he had had to do the same, he had not felt forced to do so, and he had not been treated as unpleasantly as he had been on Sneva thus far. It was almost to the point where he thought the Snevans were deliberately trying to insult him.
Nayasar shrugged. “We relax, I guess.” After Darkclaw stared at her silently for a moment, she continued. “There truly is nothing else we can do here, and it should not be too long before we’re granted an audience.”
Darkclaw was silent. She seemed serious. He could think of perhaps a dozen worthwhile things that could be done while waiting.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to relax, either,” Nayasar said, her tone of voice changing. Darkclaw was not sure what it meant. “You can’t spend every minute of every day working; you’ll go mad.”
Darkclaw noticed a thin smile creep across the face of her subordinate, Admiral Kharitzon, which quickly disappeared when Nayasar turned to look at him. “I have no intention of wasting time,” Darkclaw stated.
Nayasar turned to the admiral and said in a lowered voice, which she surely knew Darkclaw could hear, “I really think he might actually be a robot.”
“Are you trying to insult me, Grand Admiral?” he asked, his voice maintaining an even tone.
“Why would I do that?” she asked with a quick smile. “And I remember saying that you can call me Nayasar when we’re not doing anything official. And besides, can you even be insulted if you don’t feel emotions?”
She clearly had a different idea than he did on what official matters were, not that he intended to refer to her by her given name regardless. He was putting together a suitable response, when one of the Snevan soldiers yelled something barely intelligible across the room. Nayasar’s ears perked up and she quickly stood up and began to walk across the room to speak with the Snevan.
Admiral Kharitzon took the opportunity to lean closer to Darkclaw and spoke quietly. “Please don’t take her remarks personally. She doesn’t mean any offense. It’s a bit hard to explain teasing, but it’s basically something people do to those they like in a good-natured way. I realize that it doesn’t make much sense, but I’m not sure how to better explain it. She’s, ah, decided that she wants to see if you really are as emotionless as you seem. Really, though, I think she’s just trying to better understand your way of thinking. As you have probably already surmised, we are an emotional people, more so than most. So, just as you probably don’t understand how we function, she doesn’t quite understand how you function.”
Darkclaw nodded. “Thank you for attempting to explain her behavior. I suppose that in time I will at least be able to know when she is doing something like that, even though I do not think it will ever make sense to me.” For a moment, Darkclaw was tempted to ask the admiral about different emotions, how to recognize them, but decided against it. While it could prove useful in some instances, he did not want emotions to be any more on his mind than they were already.
“If you have any questions, feel free to ask,” the admiral replied. “And in the event that you decide, at some point, that you can refer to us without using our titles when we are in an informal situation, you can call me Felivas.” He offered his hand to Darkclaw.
After a moment’s hesitation, Darkclaw decided to accept the hand. After they shook, Darkclaw decided that he did have a question. “Is there anything I should know about Snevan diplomatic customs? There was little recent information in the database I read through.”
Felivas—the admiral—made an expression that Darkclaw did not understand for the briefest moment before smiling. Why do they do that all the time? “I’m not surprised. For quite a long time now, most dignitaries have refused to meet with Snevans here, because of some of their more, unusual customs, including long waiting periods. I don’t know what was mentioned with the older customs, but—”
He was interrupted by the grand admiral’s return. “The supreme warlord will see us now,” she said in a manner that Darkclaw understood to mean that they should not wait. It was about time.
They rose, and began to walk as one toward the other side of the room. Darkclaw’s guards remained close to him, however, as the rest of the Felinaris party followed. There were a dozen of them, eight soldiers wearing full combat gear, along with another two lower officers and a pair of diplomats. He noticed for the first time that the admiral and grand admiral were both in fact wearing their combat armor as well, though without their helmets and only carrying close quarters weapons and sidearms. Their armor almost did not look like armor, with the way it was fitted snugly to their bodies, prioritizing maneuverability over additional protection and features—and it likely relied on the natural resiliency of felinite.
They walked through the massive doors into another hallway, this one with a ceiling ten meters high, and simple designs carved into the walls. It was not a long hallway, and at its end was another pair of enormous doors, which he assumed would lead to the audience chamber.
Suddenly, Darkclaw was aware of Admiral Kharitzon—Felivas—walking beside him.
“One thing you should be aware of, Executor,” the admiral said as they approached the doors. “When the supreme warlord greets you, he is going to throw—” the doors banged open, and Felivas abruptly stopped talking as they entered the room, silent once the echo of the doors died down. Darkclaw really should have spent the time to learn more about the Snevan customs as opposed to focusing on his unexpected emotions.
While the previous room had seemed quite large, it was completely dwarfed by this one. It had a domed ceiling that looked to be over forty meters high at its highest point, and the room was at least one hundred meters in diameter. The room’s walls were comp
letely covered in primitive weapons. Darkclaw recognized swords, axes, maces and spears among a number of others that were not immediately recognizable. The room looked more like an ancient armory than an audience chamber or throne room.
The Snevan who could only be Supreme Warlord Sarkan sat in an extremely impractical throne suspended from the ceiling, looking down upon the room from nearly ten meters above the floor. It looked to be constructed almost entirely out of the bones of some large avian creature. An enormous spiked morningstar, almost two meters long, hung from the side of the throne.
When his eyes reached Darkclaw, the supreme warlord stood upon the throne- it listed dangerously for a second before leveling out. As he stood, the supreme warlord lifted the huge weapon in his hand.
“Weelcome, Eexeecutoor!” he shouted, then hurled the morningstar at Darkclaw.
As the morningstar spun toward him, Darkclaw contemplated on how he could react. It was unlikely that this was an actual attempt to kill him; there were more than enough Snevan soldiers in the room to accomplish that if that was their goal. Regardless of the supreme warlord’s intentions, he still needed to deal with the incoming weapon. The easiest option would be to step out of the way. However, Darkclaw recalled an old custom he had seen referenced in several texts, which involved testing the worthiness of a visitor.
Darkclaw stretched out his hand and caught the morningstar midflight, centering his weight to avoid being knocked back by the sheer force of the flying weapon. He lowered the weapon to the ground, still holding on to the handle. With a slight motion, he signaled for his guards to train their weapons on the supreme warlord, which prompted the Snevan soldiers to aim their weapons at Darkclaw and his guards.
The supreme warlord began to laugh. Or at least that’s what Darkclaw assumed him to be doing. The sound he was making was somehow more grating than a Snevan’s voice generally was, and echoed repeatedly throughout the room.
The supreme warlord spread his wings—he had an impressive wingspan of at least seven meters—and jumped off of the throne, effortlessly gliding to the ground. He approached Darkclaw, his arms outstretched, completely ignoring the weapons trained on him and said, “Weelcome too Sneevaa, Eexeecutoor!”
“You will explain the meaning of this,” Darkclaw said evenly, lifting the morningstar and resting it on his shoulder.
The Supreme Warlord ignored him, and continued to speak. “Iii am ssuure thaat yoouu wiish to knoow whaat haappened beefore yoour arriival. Thee Galaactiic Alliiaance iis afraiid of yoou, Eexeecutoor. A large striiike foorce aattacked, wiith thee iinteentiion of criipliing myy fleeet, shoould Ii deeciide to joiin yoou.”
“As yoou alreeadyy have sseeen, thee Galaactiic Aliiaance attaacked Ssneevaa wiithoout waarniing. Theyy feeared wee would joiin thee iinvaaders—yoou. Yoou deserve myy perssonaal thaankss foor yoour aiid—and thee feeliinariiss as well. Ii sseee thaat yoou woould maake an honoraable and sstrong allyy.”
Darkclaw was not sure what to make of that remark. Did the supreme warlord truly think he saw something within him? Or were those empty words meant as flattery?
The supreme warlord turned to face Nayasar. “Iif Feeliinaar haas not yet beeen attaacked, iit shall bee ssooon.”
The grand admiral’s face took on an expression that Darkclaw could not identify, but he assumed that she did not like this bit of news. She immediately began talking quietly with Admiral Kharitzon and several of the Felinaris dignitaries. They spoke in hushed tones for a short time, and the discussion ended with one of the Felinaris dignitaries rushing from the room. The grand admiral stared after the departing official, as if she wished to be leaving herself, but Felivas put a hand on her arm and said something to her. She nodded, and turned to face the supreme warlord again. Darkclaw wondered why the Snevans had waited until now to mention this. There had been time after the battle was over. Perhaps they were so unhinged that they forgot about that detail until now.
The supreme warlord didn’t let the momentary interruption slow him down at all. “Buut noow, to busiineesss, as thee Tehlmaans sayy.”
Before he could continue, however, Darkclaw’s attention turned to a commotion starting near the entrance to the throne room. A black-armored Snevan, a bit smaller in size than most Snevans Darkclaw had seen, seemed to be arguing loudly with the commander of the Snevans who had escorted Darkclaw through the building. Even the supreme warlord had stopped speaking to listen to the Snevans argue in their native tongue. The argument must have escalated, as the shrieking somehow kept getting louder, the black-armored Snevan gesturing angrily, often in Darkclaw’s direction. The argument continued to escalate until the black-armored Snevan raised an arm as if to strike the Snevan officer. The officer reacted by quickly striking the other Snevan in the gut, knocking it back, despite the heavy armor. The black-armored Snevan straightened itself, made one last remark, and then walked away from the other officer, across the room, its gaze never leaving Darkclaw.
The supreme warlord shook his head, then let out a quick laugh. “Thee Nesst Fliiight loosst fiiftyy veessseels iin thee attaack. Theyy blaame yoou for thiiss, and wiish for mee to kiill yoou heere. Ii aam glaad Iii diid noot. More woould have beeen losst haad yoou not aarriived when yoou diid.”
“That was a wise decision, Supreme Warlord.” Darkclaw replied, his face blank, and after a moment the Snevan laughed again, reached over, and clapped Darkclaw on the shoulder. Darkclaw did not understand the meaning of the gesture, but it was clearly not an attack, so he allowed it. He was still trying to figure the Snevan out; what was his opinion, what did he intend to do? He seemed impressed by the fact that the Tyrannodons had aided them, but he had not openly condemned those who wished for Darkclaw to be killed. Darkclaw’s instincts had not failed him; there was still a danger, despite everything.
“Coome!” the supreme warlord said loudly. “Wee musst ceelebraate yoour arriivaal, and foorge an aliiaance!” He yelled an order in the Snevan language, and a number of aides, who had been standing near the edges of the room, began to rapidly move around, setting up a long table, and then began to file in and out, bringing food to the table. While they did so, Darkclaw processed what had just happened. The supreme warlord had essentially confirmed that he would accept the offer of alliance, while simultaneously communicating to Darkclaw that he owed his safe passage to him alone. The Snevan was either masterfully manipulating things to his advantage, or was completely unhinged.
Within minutes, the long table was completely covered in a wide variety of foods that Darkclaw did not recognize. It would not prove a problem; he intuitively knew that should he ingest anything that did not agree with his body, internal safeguards would ensure that he did not come to harm.
The supreme warlord gestured for them to proceed to the table. Darkclaw followed the Felinaris delegation and the Snevan officers present, and the supreme warlord moved to walk beside him.
“Do you wish this returned?” Darkclaw asked, offering the huge mace.
The supreme warlord made an expression that might have been an attempt at a smile, and said, “Noo, Teeranodon, iit iis yoours byy riight. Yoou were thee fiirsst whoo caught iit!” he laughed again, and clapped Darkclaw on the back hard enough to almost make him stumble, before walking on ahead.
Darkclaw stopped for a moment before continuing. The supreme warlord was not making it any easier for him to figure out his intentions. Once he reached the table, Darkclaw sat down to the right of the supreme warlord, with Admiral Kharitzon and Nayasar to his right. The entire Felinaris delegation seemed very relaxed now, apart from the grand admiral, who fidgeted around and kept glancing at her silent multitool, and even the honor guard was seated at the table. Darkclaw’s own guards remained standing behind his chair. As the Snevan officers took their places, including the one who had struck the black-armored Snevan, the slamming of doors announced another arrival. The black-armored Snevan re-entered the room, and took a seat at the table. There had been a tense silence as the Snevan entered, and when it s
at down without incident, casual conversation resumed.
“If I don’t miss my guess,” Felivas said quietly to Darkclaw, “that Snevan would be the commander of Nest Flight. Fortunately, we should not be seeing more of her once we depart. The Nest Flight is a purely defensive force.”
“She?” Darkclaw had not seen any female Snevans since arriving; however, it would be next to impossible to determine gender when the soldiers wore so much armor.
“Yes. Female Snevans are only permitted to serve in Nest Flight, so over time the entire flight became female only.” Felivas stopped speaking as the supreme warlord began to address those seated at the table. All of the Snevan and Felinaris soldiers who had been helmeted removed their helmets as he began to speak.
“Thiiss wiill bee aa hiisstooric daay foor all of uss! Toodaay wee wiill forge an alliiaance that oour eneemiies wiill feear. Fiirsst, iintroductiions.” He gestured toward Darkclaw and the Felinaris. “Oour honored gueesstss, Feeliinaariiss Grand Admiiral Naayaassar Kkhariiaah, and Admiiral Feeliivass Kkhaariitzon, myy good frieends, and thee Teeranodon Eexeecutoor Daarkclaaw.” He turned and gestured toward the Snevan officers, seated on the other side of the table. “Fiirsst Fliight Commaandeer Ssenkaar, Taaloon Fliight Commaandeer Viikeeraass, aand Nesst Fliight Commaander Keeyrssaa.” The last glared at Darkclaw.
The supreme warlord sat down, and slammed his hand on something metal on the side of the table. This apparently signaled the start of the meal, and as it rang the Snevans, followed by the Felinaris, began to eat, though the grand admiral still looked less at ease than the others. They all seemed content to simply eat for a time, apart from Nest Flight’s commander. Strange how the only one in the room openly opposed to me is similarly disinclined to waste time with this.
However, as much as Darkclaw wished for the Snevans to begin discussing important matters, the supreme warlord, the only Snevan of any real importance, did not look like he was going to take a break from gorging himself on what appeared to be raw meat for some time yet. It truly was simply a waste of time; so much more could be done now, things that were far more important. Darkclaw abruptly stopped himself from continuing. When had he lost his ability to wait? He had been content to wait for thousands of years while in hibernation; why could he not wait mere hours now? He should be incapable of feeling impatient.