A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  "Oh Really? I must concede Zuvok, I intend to stay very much alive, and your Emperor, well... let's just say that I believe he's ready to negotiate to my terms."

  The Admiral's thin lips turned up into a snarl, exposing his large yellow fangs, his face now flushed dark with anger. "As soon as we dock, you're to be escorted to the capital city to meet the Emperor. We'll see what terms you can negotiate with him personally. If you do try anything foolish, I will kill you myself!"

  The angry image disappeared. Zorlog's laugh rippled across the bridge, biting through a cold silence. Every one of his Avoks had stopped what they were doing to watch their Tarvok clash with an Empirical Zuvok.

  "Are you really going to face the Emperor, Tarvok?" asked Gulin.

  Zorlog saw a flash of fear cross the younger officer’s face. It irritated him. Like this whole situation irritated him.

  "Of course,” he snarled, “he has a business proposition for me. Do not be so weak. He is flesh and blood, like you and me, only poisoned to the core with the Txtian seed. You hold too much reverence for Zigots.”

  The officers shifted nervously.

  Zorlog swung his gaze across the bridge. “For those who have not realized the game has changed. We are no longer mere slavers. We are the revolution. We, you and I, will make Xilo great again.”

  He turned to Gulin. “Get three parties together, 20 apiece. I want them to do some groundwork for me while I am detained. There should be three freighters in port from the Corvelock quadrant. Find them. Inform their Tarvoks that I will be dropping in for a visit, after my meeting with the Emperor. They are not to leave Xilo without seeing me first. Understand?"

  Gulin nodded and left.

  Few understood what Zorlog had in mind. But they all knew things were about to explode. They all knew not to ask.

  The Gohk II was directed to Zenux Port, the busiest spaceport in the Xi-Empire, adjacent to Zenux, the capital city of Xilo. It was the epicenter of trade for the Xi-Empire. Traffic choked the skies with ships of all shapes and sizes and filled the precious real estate of the Port. At Zenux Port, ships never stayed long, as the docking fees were very steep. Only the very rich could afford a reserved dock, excepting, of course, the military. The Gohk II shuddered as it came to rest in its own sectioned-off area. Swarms of sightseers remained at a distance, respectful of military-enforced restrictions. A regiment stood ready adjacent to the site waiting to receive their prisoner.

  Zorlog assessed the situation from the bridge and growled with irritation. He marched to the lower airlock exit and was intercepted by Gulin. "I have the three ground parties assembled, my Tarvok. Do you want them to join you?"

  Some of Zorlog's frustration evaporated. Gulin's naiveté on the inner workings of politics was truly enjoyable. "No, Gulin. This time I assure you, I will be going alone. However, locate the three ships I told you about and assign one to each. Ensure those ships remain docked until I return. No exceptions, no matter how much their Tarvoks whine about the cost."

  "What about the military escort?"

  "What about them? They are here to escort me only. Just ensure you are not followed. Create a diversion, do whatever it takes."

  "And what do I tell the three Tarvoks?"

  "Nothing. They need only to know I am on Xilo." Zorlog pushed his way past, heading for the airlock.

  "But Tarvok," called Gulin after him. "What if you don't come back?"

  Zorlog, now just stepping through the lock door, leaned back to look at Gulin. The Tarvok’s face twisted in a warped grimace of humor and hate. He laughed with a sound as warped as his expression. It sent a shiver up Gulin’s double spine.

  Without another word, Zorlog stepped out. His amused disposition ebbed to silence as he descended the ramp. Behind him, he heard the footsteps of his crew. The three parties Gulin had assembled were following him, protectively.

  Why didn’t Gulin understand? It was better for him to wait until after he left. Loyal to a fault.

  Zorlog arched his spines a little straighter. His military escort had already lined up in formation below. The crooked silhouette of a Txtian Torzon headed the group. His high-pitched, almost piercing, clicking cut through the smog-filled air.

  "Come with me, Xilozak!"

  Zorlog stood rigid at the foot of the ramp, distastefully eyeing the officer. "I'll not take orders from the likes of you, Txtian. Make way and keep your distance."

  The Txtian did not like that reply, he did not like it at all. Too many hard years in the military had molded his expectations of subordinates. This Xilozak needed to be yanked down a notch. The insect concentrated, employing the mind-twist on the glaring Xilozak. He awaited the look of desperation and pain, the enjoyable, delicious moment when the Xilozak screamed for exoneration. But his anticipation was premature. Zorlog only laughed, his yellow teeth dripping wide gushes of spittle. The Torzon's eyes opened wide with surprise. He tried again, intensifying his concentration to its utmost. Some of the accompanying Xilozak escorts fell to their knees.

  In a blur, before anyone could react, Zorlog pulled his razor-sharp bar from his belt, flicked on its disrupter field, and swung. It hit the Txtian with a bone-crushing impact, severing as it went. When it was all over the Txtian lay decapitated at Zorlog's feet, its body twitching in its death throes. Quiet came over the group. Their faces betrayed utter shock and disbelief.

  It was Zorlog's cold, hollow laugh that finally wrenched them into action. The troopers scrambled to aim their blasters, only to stop as quickly as they began, realizing the presence of the Gohk II's crew standing behind Zorlog, weapons ready and poised.

  "Hold!" growled Zorlog, his snake eyes dancing on the troopers. "Paragraph 359 of the Military Code of Ethics: No Txtian may use the mind-twist on a fellow Xilozak or citizen of Xilo unless the Xilozak is a known criminal. Any attempts at doing so will be punishable by death! Since I have not been presented with any formal charge. I retain all rights of citizenship!"

  Blasters lowered slightly. They knew the Code well. All of them did. It was required.

  "You killed our Torzon!" one of them yelled.

  "I am only upholding The Law," replied Zorlog.

  One of the Txtians swung up his blaster, but before he could pull off a shot, a fellow trooper knocked him to the ground - a fellow Xilozak.

  "And the Law is the Law!” announced the Xilozak trooper. “We all know the Code, and the Karvok was clearly using the mind-twist against regulations. I'll testify that to the Emperor himself.” He turned to face Zorlog. "I am in command now. Your defense is duly recognized. It will be the Emperor that will decide your fate, not a Txtian Karvok. You two!" he a pointed at the two Txtians, "Clean up this mess! The rest of you, get in formation!"

  "Tarvok," he gestured at Zorlog with a swing of his arm. "If you will."

  Zorlog nodded respectfully and joined the escort.

  Gulin had witnessed the whole scene from the airlock exit. Only Zorlog would have the guts to do what he had just seen - and get away with it.

  The crew reluctantly ascended the ramp, watching their Tarvok's silhouette shrink in the distance.

  What was he up to? What did his new orders mean? Something was going on here, and if he knew his Tarvok, it was going to be big.

  * * *

  Zorlog's satisfaction faded quickly. Murder, if anything, entertained his twisted mind only briefly. The sour Xilo wind was thick with exhaust and was blowing like a paste onto his face. He hated this planet with a passion. He hated the air, the dirt, the stained and deteriorating buildings.

  They moved through the city at a steady pace, stopping only briefly to mount the segments of a rolling walkway, every twist and turn brought them deeper into the bowels of the Capital City. As they marched into the shadows of the Towers of Zenux, they met up with the Empirical Guard. He was handed over unceremoniously. His new escorts, grim-faced and cloaked, silently led him into and through the maze of the capital building. He followed them down into the transport passages and th
rough the power grid’s dark vertical tunnels that stretched for kilometers into Xilo's crust. Hot, spurious winds screamed past smooth, black, featureless walls. The induced null gravity of the corridors wrenched out bitter memories of battles fought in the hollowness of space.

  Obviously, they were taking him the back way into the Capital building. They would ensure no witnesses. But he was still alive. The Emperor would have words for him first.

  Bony arms jerked him into yet another passage. His feet came to rest on cold rock. It took a moment for his innards to settle back down to the restored gravity. His escorts, however, were impatient. They pushed him along. He growled at them ready to strike. They stepped away, slightly. Long black rods appeared from under the cloaks. The gloomy darkness gave way to a hazy green light as each rod activated. Steam sizzled as electricity traced along their length.

  Zorlog laughed. Disruptor rods. He was not the only fan of such hideous weaponry.

  He took the hint and started moving.

  Stairs with steps too numerable to count, ended finally, at the foot of a set of immense doors.

  This was the entrance to the Hall of the Apocalypse. He had heard of it, but very few had ever visited and returned.

  Zorlog turned to look back only to find he was alone.

  Strange he had not noticed them leave.

  A low-intensity reverberation echoed up the corridor, and the massive doors slid open. Zorlog remained steadfast. One must not be too impetuous.

  Another guard approached through the doors and beckoned him to follow. He was led into a hall and instructed to wait. He stood quietly in the dark, and carefully scanned his surroundings. It all seemed featureless in the suppressing gloom. He kept his mind occupied by running through variations of tactical battle strategies. He was so lost in concentration, he failed to notice the arrival of the Emperor until the creature was no more than two meters away.

  The Zigot, even by Xilozak terms, was a hideous combination of Txtian and Xilozak. His mere appearance often made children cry, and his subjects cower. Zorlog stared back with indifference.

  The Emperor’s evil reputation was inflated.

  The Zigot circled closely. Zorlog could feel his hot breath on his neck.

  "I have word of a disturbing event. A Torzon killed by a civilian."

  "I exercised my rights under The Law. That is all."

  "So you have. I have interrogated the officers in charge. It is a shame we still tolerate such blatant abuses within our military. However, it seems we tolerate crimes of much higher magnitude. You, Zorlog, destroyed the Empirical Administration building on G0015-A."

  "That is unsubstantiated, my Emperor."

  "You are a known Purist!" The Zigot shrieked. "For that crime alone, you should be killed!"

  Zorlog pasted a dry, humorless grin on his face barring his yellowed teeth. "I have never admitted to being a Purist. Your information is tainted by the pettiness of your subjects. Many of them wish me dead, as I have refused to pay their illegal fees and bow to their whims of profit. So you see, Emperor, you too are a victim of propaganda. I tell you now, I only wish to serve you." He bowed his head in reverence, his mind reeling with a seething hate.

  The Emperor stepped back into the shadows, which so richly populated the room, and mentally reviewed the Tarvok’s response. There was a remote possibility that this Xilozak is not what he thought. Was this slaver a mere decoy? A common criminal burdened with the weight of so many lies? Was this Xilozak capable of aspiring to the genius that he had been brought to believe? The fact remained, as his Zuvoks have attested to repeatedly; in the command of a starship, this Xilozak was not easy to kill. It was also true that his spies had perished on the Gohk without returning any useful information.

  "Do not play games with me, Xilozak. My sight extends beyond the edge of the universe. Nothing can be hidden from me. You ordered your first officer, Kitohk, to his death. You attacked my ships, and you destroyed my buildings."

  "Kitohk was a fool, and your Torzon was corrupt. He was leeching credits from all who dealt within his region. Check his accounts, and check his brother’s while you are at it. The evidence is there. He ordered your ships to destroy me. I merely acted in self-defense. I have my crew to think about."

  "Very gallant of you - to think of your crew." The Zigot moved in close, bending to leer into Zorlog's face, mandibles dripping. His eyes danced with sparks of flaming red. Zorlog returned his gaze with impassive features, internally battling the urge to reach up and tear the head off the Txtian-bred freak. He forced his next words out with effort, carefully forming each syllable.

  "My Emperor, I am merely a slave trader trying to make a living. I do not wish to be considered a criminal."

  The Zigot's sneer melted away to a menacing grin. This one is amusing. "Very well." He ended the discussion with a wave of his bony hand. "Let it rest for now. Time will uncover the truth. You have proven to be a competent strategist. My Zuvoks tell me you show promise. This is very unusual for them to admit such a fact, yet it is understandable as they must provide a plausible excuse when they return as failures. Shall I regard their pompous accusations with a measure of truth? Are you indeed more than the wretched excuse for a Xilozak that stands before me? Shall I spare your life, allow you to utilize your alleged skills within your military? Shall I allow you to attain the power and privilege of command?"

  Zorlog said nothing.

  The Emperor circled the room. "You must make a decision now. This does not come without a cost. Xilozak, simply revoke all your foolish Purists beliefs and join me. What you are is pathetically insignificant, raise yourself from the dirt."

  "We all come from the dirt."

  The Emperor laughed. "I have no time for this. What would you have me do? Allow you to walk away, ignore your transgressions, let your crimes go unpunished? That speaks so badly to the future, setting such a poor precedence. But then again, of what regard do I have of precedence? I am not ruled by the past, am I?”

  “You are the Emperor,” added Zorlog.

  “Yes, yes. I am the Emperor. Tell me, I have heard you have ambitious plans. Perhaps it shall be more fitting for you to live your life out as the little peasant slave trader that you are."

  The Emperor turned sharply to glare at the Xilozak. "Either rot in your existence, or aspire to become a part of the ruling arm of the Empire. It is your decision."

  The Zigot waited, watching. This was truly enjoyable. What would this Xilozak do? Refuse? He would kill him. He had no intention of allowing this dissident out of the room without having some level of control over him.

  Zorlog had already suspected the Emperor would make him an offer. Of what position of influence he could only guess. But it was genuine and as such presented new opportunities.

  He was mindful enough not to reply immediately. It is a sign of insincerity to jump at an offer too quickly. He knew he could not refuse such a position. His peers would understand. Infiltrate and disseminate.

  "I shall be honored to serve you, my Emperor." He knelt down on one knee, his head bowed. It took all of his strength to keep his grin down, to appear humble.

  "A wise choice," the Emperor replied, veritably pleased. The Zigot adjusted a large ring on his middle finger. It began to glow in a rich orange-red hue. It bore the symbol of the Star of the Apocalypse. The Emperor approached, reached down and pressed the fiery ring onto Zorlog's forehead. It burned into his skin like a red-hot branding iron.

  Zorlog enjoyed the pain. It had been a long time since he had felt such a rich sensation.

  "You are now a servant of the Zigot. Your life is no longer your own. It belongs to me, the Emperor of Xilo. You are now part of the brotherhood that bonds. You will live and die by that bond.”

  “Swear your life to the protection and advancement of the power and glory of Xilo.”

  "I swear, to the power and glory of Xilo!" repeated Zorlog.

  The Emperor pulled the ring away, leaving the symbol branded deep into Zo
rlog's forehead. It was the mark of the Zigot elite, the rank of Zuvok.

  "You bear pain well, Zuvok Zorlog. I am pleased. I now have a few words of advice: Remain loyal to the house of Zigot for treason is a life of pain. Do well and you will be rewarded. Do poorly and expect death. Lastly, pity your enemy only when you grind them to dust.”

  “Get up, Zuvok Zorlog."

  Zorlog rose, energized by his new found status. "What, my Emperor, is my first assignment?"

  "I can use your previous slave trader talents. I assume you have heard of our latest conquest?"

  "I am familiar with the Signus system. I visited Zuvok Zembrock near the end of his campaign in that very sector. Seems he failed to relay that to you."

  "Yes, foolish of him… Signus was a disappointment. It provided such a pitiful resistance." He shook his head slowly, seemingly to emphasize his disappointment. "Wars used to be more challenging… Regardless, as you well know, the Empire has the need for labor resources. Signus has resources, but to manage them properly we must move quickly; before we open it up for the free market to pillage. It is your role to ensure the Empire's profits are bountiful. I want you to take a fleet to Signus. Extract the resources, and we shall distribute these slaves where they are most needed. The logistics will be provided enroute.”

  "Consider it done.”

  The Emperor dispatched him with a wave of his arm. "Go. You are now assigned to the Empirical Cruiser Bzak. You must leave by 26:00 radii."

  Zorlog took his queue, bowed and left the room. His escort awaited him outside. The prominent symbol, pulsating raw on his forehead, instantly demonstrated his new power. Each of his escorts bowed down in respect. Zorlog laughed again, heartily.

  Inside the great hall, the Emperor remained silent in the darkness, contemplating. Zorlog was likely an active Purist. But it was too early, too premature to kill him. Once intoxicated by the power of position, that will sway him. If not, he will, at worst, provide enough information to locate the leader of their doomed cause. Either way, he needed this young, brash strategist to accomplish his next military goal: a grand plan to sweep this whole section of the galaxy – the seven mapped quadrants. A project that would last a hundred zadiis. It would be the challenge of his generation and further generations to come. He could already taste the onset of his military's pillage. What wonders does the remainder of the galaxy hold? One could only imagine. More resources, more technology, more slaves, and above all, more power. Perhaps in one hadii, the Xi-Empire would rule the entire galaxy – a hundred billion stars. Unimaginable now but perhaps...