Chapter 5

Dreshdall was the backwater of the backwater.

Starships zipped through the air, coming and going without much consideration for speed or landing regulations. Dingy personal freighters, which would never pass a serious Tuyet Voi inspection, landed to offload and pick up cargo destined for one side of the galaxy or another. A few civilian ships were passing through to refuel for their own journeys. Lighting was dim, which probably did a good job obscuring the grime and scattered litter. The cleaning drones, each one looking to be about a decade out of date, did little to clean up the mess around them, their scrubbing mandibles merely smeared brown sticky gunk around.

Most of the aliens were gruff-looking torons, a woolly race with two sets of curly horns and gloomy black eyes. But they were best known for their foul odor, reminiscent of bistot cattle. Other species were mixed into the bunch: a few ashan warriors, a robust, spirited reptilian species with powerful scaly tails, were huddled in a circle with their lance-pikes, likely waiting for their transport. Blobby blue candarians looked innocent and lost. Glowing magma penetrated the cracked stone skin of a couple of moorgoons, who were scanning the crowds with their blazing eyes. Several Cri monks, dressed from head to toe in big red robes, scuttled through the masses, undoubtedly eager to resume their pilgrimage. There were even a few trodarians guarding one loading ramp, rotund, hairy, and wearing mean looks.

An adult human dressed in dirty rags sat in a corner. A medical brace was attached to their left leg and a pair of crutches sat beside them. They jingled a cup. A beggar. “Spare a few creds?” Could beggars smell wealth? Perhaps they only addressed Paul because he was a fellow human. Regardless, Paul ignored them and continued on. Moments later, a much smaller human wearing similar attire, approached. She was a little girl, no older than eight or nine years old; not a parental figure in sight. She held out a container with her left hand, her other was missing.

Paul puffed out a sigh looking down at her. “Pathetic aren't you?” The girl gave Paul a hard look and scrunched her lips. “Very well,” he said and dropped a few credits in her cup, enough to feed her for some time. Hopefully, no one would rob her.

The little girl scurried off, disappearing into the crowds, she was one of only a few humans on the station- not like that mattered; Paul just needed to find a communication station to reach out to the Tuyet Voi patrol he saw on their approach. He was grateful for Olasqy’s help, even if he was ultimately responsible for all the trouble. Yet as Paul made his way through the crowds, he could not help but dwell on the man’s knowledge about the obelisks. And what about that cadami sword? It was unlike any other. Where did he get it? Questions that would have to be solved later; Paul had to reestablish his connection to the Empire.

Where are those confounded communication booths?

The station was a veritable maze. Paul thought about asking one of the information drones for directions, but he doubted those rickety machines could manage to lift a helpful finger. Perhaps one of the spacers would know. But something better caught Paul’s eye: a small patrol of Tuyet Voi soldiers was standing around talking.

As Paul approached them, one noticed and the other three turned around; their eyes were wary, their hands now rested on their weapons, and their minds stirred ready for an altercation. As Lord Nefarous, Paul was famous among the Tuyet Voi. But as an Imperial Progenitor who almost always wore a helmet into battle, he was mostly known by reputation only. So it was no surprise that some average soldiers had not recognized him.

“There a problem sir?” one young man stepped forward to address. He wore a corporal's red bar on his shoulder. He looked concerned by Paul’s ragged appearance.

“Stand to, corporal. Report to your superior at once; I must speak to him immediately,” said Paul in his typical commanding tone. He handed the corporal an ID card. Ordinarily, the mere sight of a cadami sword was identification enough. Even the robes of a Progenitor were a widely recognized status symbol. But nothing for the past month had been ordinary.

The corporal took the card and began running it through a scanner. “What...are you some officer that managed to get lost?” The scanner gave an approving beep and the corporal’s eyes went wide, he snapped to attention and clenched his teeth as if he just narrowly avoided death.

“Call your superior, corporal.”

“Yes, Lord Nefarous,” he replied earnestly, handed the ID card back, and took a few steps back to make the call.

The other three stood quiet, their eyes unwilling to meet Paul’s, but one perked up with a look of determination. “So... you really are Lord Nefarous, Hero of Unnon,” one man said brightly. “I heard you took on three Amani Progenitor Knights all at once and...and saved the whole system in the process!”

One of the other soldiers stepped in front of his starry-eyed companion as if to shield his stupidity, “Sorry, my Lord, private Reese here is easily star struck.” He turned to give Reese a deathly glare. “So much so that he tends to forget just who he addresses.”

Paul was unbothered by the private's enthusiasm; in fact, he was pleased to see the young man's spirits lifted. Anything that helped with morale was valuable, especially for those assigned to such degrading posts. Left to police contemptible space stations, a job for drones or locals, not Tuyet Voi soldiers.

“At ease, Privates. Speak freely, we Knights are not so brash as the news broadcasts would have you believe,” Paul said. The air between them eased even more, but the third man looked nervous; he was rather quiet and was hiding something behind his back. “Got something you’d like to show me…” Paul leaned forward to see his call sign. “...Private Jack?”

Jack’s face went red, then he sheepishly produced a bottle of pink spirits. “S..sorry, my Lord. We’re careful not to drink too much on duty. Just the droning hours of nothing, you see…care for a nip?” He held out the bottle, and the other two soldiers looked as if they had just witnessed a murder.

“Careful, s’not exactly Sweevirian wine.”

After everything Paul had just been through, a stiff drink sounded like just the thing he needed. He sniffed the swill, which reeked like nail polish and fermented acrid berries. “Down the hatch.” Paul took a swig; its invigorating warmth burned his throat. “Ahh...tasty.”

“Haha! Man of the people!” Reese cheered. Jack’s stony expression melted. The three soldiers were as happy as could be, all smiles and laughs.

“So, how goes it with Alessia?” Jack asked Reese gregariously. “Maybe Master Nefarous could chime in a few words of advice for yah.”

“Jack, c’mon!”

“Relax, it’s not every day you can draw from a Progenitor’s wisdom,” Jack said. “My lord, care to share the story of how you met your misses? I assume you’ve wed.”

Paul found that amusing. “I never settled down, actually,” he admitted. “Always been too busy. Fighting Progenitors, leading fleets, never in one place for long. Not exactly the life for a married man.”

“Ha, though many have tried, I'm sure,” the third soldier said. “Why settle for one when half the ladies in the galaxy must be chasin after you.” The other two agreed with this.

“Message from the corporal.” All three men listened to their ear communicators, then exchanged empty looks. All at once, they became tense and anxious; Paul could sense their discomfort. Fear permeated their puny minds, but why? The corporal came back, now he was scared.

“So, my lord...er, what brings you all the way out here to our little corner-” A loud buzzer cut him off, a voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Attention, under Imperial decree, this station is now in lockdown. All guests are to return to their ships immediately.”

There was a collective grumble from the spacers, but the crowds began to disperse obediently.

“What did you do, corporal?” Paul asked darkly. Then he noticed the other three soldiers had raised their rifles, their hands were shaking. These men were brave or probably just drunk. Paul sighed internally- he did not want to have to do this.

“I’m sorry, my lord, my orders are to keep you here,” said the corporal with thinly veiled confidence. “I…”

Paul grabbed the muzzle of the nearest rifle, whipped around one soldier and stole his sidearm; red streaks of plasma pierced Jack and Reese, and the last dropped after a swift bash to the skull. Now the corporal was alone, hands raised.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Please! I’m sorry, please spare me!”

“Tell me what’s going on, now!” Paul jabbed the pistol into the corporal's chest.

“Ye-yes, of course,” he whimpered. “Orders have gone out to kill you on sight, from Emperor Reyleonard himself.”

From behind, a presence approached, far more confident and with the clear intent to kill. Paul gritted his teeth knowing what he’d find. He spun around to see a man flanked by five Tuyet Voi soldiers, all armed to the teeth. Progenitor Knight Dusk was the man- Paul recognized him right away. Tall, with slick dark brown hair, a gaunt white face resembling a serpent, and a cadami sword at his side.

“Tsk tsk, killing Tuyet Voi soldiers... I’ll just have to add murder to your crimes,” Dusk said with a silky voice.

“They forced my hand, gave me no choice,” Paul said, looking at sizzling holes in their backs and the broken bottle of drink beside them. The corporal had already fled. “So, what do you want? Here to kill me?”

“Why yes, Lord Nefarous. And how lucky am I to be passing through this sector just as you show up?” Dusk said with a smirk plastered across his face. “The Emperor has promised a great reward for your death.”

“And why would Reyleonard want me dead?” Paul shot back. “I’ve just won a major victory in the Reaver Verge and killed an Amani Knight.”

“True, but you were caught snooping around in restricted space. The Emperor has been clear and specific on his rules. Oh, and don’t worry about your precious Indominus; it’s been reduced to dust.”

Paul scoffed; such a weak bluff. Not a weapon or fleet in the Tuyet Voi arsenal could take on the Indominus. “So Reyleonard finally worked up the courage to put a death mark on me. My only surprise is that this day didn’t come sooner.”

“Say what you will, Nefarous, the penalty for your crimes is already death. I will, however, grant you a duel, of course. Oh- it would appear your sword is missing, tsk tsk. No matter-” he drew his sword, its brilliant blue light radiated the thin clouds of smog wafting through the station. “-you’re obligated to accept, sword or no sword, but do feel free to use that little beam pistol you’ve got there.”

Paul tossed the sidearm to the floor; it would be useless against another Progenitor. “Challenging an unarmed knight, you’ve lost your way Dusk?”

“I didn’t win my spot at the academy with bows and studies of the old ways. A stab in the back works just as well as a sword through the chest.”

“Especially when you’re the only one holding a sword.”

Dusk cast his arms up, surveying the room with a wide grin. “No one here but my loyal troops. As far as the rest of the Tuyet Voi are concerned, I beat you in a fair fight.”

“Doubt anyone will believe a craven such as yourself.”

“They will after I cut you down.” Dusk strolled forward, twirling his sword with a pretty swagger.

Outnumbered six to one, there was no cover, nothing to maneuver around- Dusk had Paul in a classic kill zone. A direct fight was out of the question. Grappling and disarming? No, Dusk would simply flail his sword around like a madman. There was one other option, though Paul hadn’t trained for it; he wasn’t sure if it would work at all in fact, but it’s all he had.

Standing completely relaxed, Paul let his guard down. His muscles relaxed like water, a peaceful warmth filled his extremities. Every sound in the station became acute: the hum of Dusk’s blade, the distant grumbles of the spacers climbing into their ships, the whirring motors of the cleaning drones, and a faint clicking sound.

The silver map burst from Paul’s pocket, a cloud of stars and planets swirled around filling the area, their light dazzled Dusk and his soldiers. This was his chance; Paul snapped out of his trance and charged with all his might, tackled Dusk to the ground, and wrenched the sword out of his feeble grasp.

The swirling galaxy shrunk back into its housing which sealed shut and fell to the ground with a clank. Standing over Dusk, Paul held the sword up to the man’s throat.

A rush of wind blew in, a familiar ship hovered in place, the loading ramp lowered and Olasqy walked down beckoning.

Well, that’s just great.

Paul diverted his attention back to the sniveling man on the ground, the cadami sword still centimeters from his face. “Tell the Emperor I will come back for him.” Paul tossed the blade to the floor, scooped up the silver map, and made his way towards the Intrepid.

Dusk had been spared; he was honor-bound to let his opponent go, but Paul could feel Dusk’s fury like a pot of boiling water ready to spill over. “KILL HIM!”

Bolts of red plasma pelted the Intrepid as Paul hopped onto the loading ramp and was safely out of sight. The ship lifted off and blasted away. Olasqy was already back on the controls and urging Paul to buckle up.

“The station’s still on lockdown, you know!” Paul reminded, not sure if Olasqy knew what he was going to do next. There was only one exit, and it was sealed shut by a reinforced blast gate. He took the co-pilot seat and strap on the safety belt.

Olasqy prepped the front cannons.

“A starship this size doesn’t have the firepower,” Paul said, looking urgently at Olasqy like he was mad.

“Don’t underestimate the Intrepid,” Olasqy said with a smile. He pulled the trigger, and two green beams smashed into the blast gate, disintegrating them in mere moments, and the Intrepid sailed through into open space. They had eluded Dusk, but that victory was short-lived.

Ahead were four medium-sized Tuyet Voi cruisers spitting out a shower of red laser bolts. They were blocking the only warp route out of the system; the only hope for escape was to get past them somehow.

“No problem,” Paul said with a sneer. “They’ll likely want to bring me in alive. When they board, I’ll cut my way through their ranks. Still got the cadami sword of yours?” Suddenly the ship shuddered and rocked, bright streaks of plasma flew by. “Or they’ll just blast us into oblivion. Secondary plan, aim your cannons at the center ship, forty degrees below the bow is its ammo stores.”

“About that,” Olasqy began with a nervous smile. “The cannons need to charge.” He banked the Intrepid into a twirl, dodging another volley, but several follow-up shots found their mark.

“Break off then!” Paul commanded. “We’ll use the station as cover until the cannons are charged.”

“Oh, they’re just scratching the paint job,” Olasqy said, waving Paul’s worries off. “I told you not to underestimate my baby.” Another crash rocked the ship so violently Paul nearly flew out of his chair. Warning sirens began to ring. “They got a lucky shot.”

The Intrepid rolled and spun to avoid more direct hits, but the forward shields were already falling below fifty percent. Olasqy throttled the ship to its maximum speed, and Paul realized he would try running the blockade. He knew better than to interrupt a pilot, but this man had to be insane!

More bolts struck the ship; the shields were depleted entirely, and now the armor was taking a beating. Paul gritted his teeth and held on to the chair armrests for dear life, just a little further and they would be able to warp. Now point blank with the cruisers, the Intrepid shuddered savagely, the front viewport crack, lights burst, and the control console sparked.

Olasqy punched the jump drive; reality melted away, they were safely in warp space.

Paul’s heart pounded in his ears. Tentatively he released his grip from the chair, his whole body rung like a bell. “YOU’RE MAD!” he growled.

Olasqy flipped a few switches and leaned back in his chair. “That worked out pretty well if I do say so. Look, the armor still has twenty percent integrity...no forty...ten...I think the diagnostics computer is broken.”

Several hours passed as Paul meditated to rejuvenate his tired body and to let himself calm down. He rarely lost his cool in the heat of battle, and he chastised himself for it, but then again, his life had never truly been in the hands of another.

When he awoke, space outside the viewport was warping before his eyes, they were sailing across the galaxy faster than light could travel.

“Ah- you’re awake. You’ll be pleased to see the Intrepid’s holding up. She’s a tough girl, that’s for sure,” said Olasqy.

“Mmhm,” Paul grunted as he sat in the co-pilot seat.

“Glad you decided to come with me. Though, you already had things under control. How ever did you manage to get the upper hand back there with that other Progenitor?”

Paul pulled the silver map from his pocket and examined it curiously as if he had just found it for the first time again. “I can hardly believe it worked. I had my suspicions, and in the heat of battle it was a real long shot. But it looks like this device opens when I meditate.”

“Very curious indeed. Guess that explains why the bridge was filled with stars earlier during a course correction. But what now?” Olasqy asked. “Safe to assume you don’t want me to drop you off at another Tuyet Voi port?”

For the first time ever, Paul didn’t know where he would go. His Empire turned on him as if twenty years of service meant nothing: no fleets to lead, no battles to fight, no home. No loved ones either, though Paul never really had those to begin with.

“I’m sorry, Paul...” Olasqy said, speaking into Paul’s thoughts.

“So, you know my real name. Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Paul growled. ”We’re even, but don’t think I’ve forgotten how you used me.”

Olasqy looked as though Paul was telling jokes. “Please, come with me to Kanchi. We can discover what secrets the planet hides. There are greater things out there for you- I know it, I’ve seen it. I’d wager it’ll all be worth it.” He was staring right at Paul with piercing blue eyes now.

Paul grunted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Who are you really?”

“A servant,” Olasqy replied so matter-of-factly that there was no room for thought or deliberation. “And I need your help.”

“What wild imaginings could have possibly led you to believe I’m the one you need?”

“I don’t.” He stated plainly, but then he lessened his stare and returned his gaze to the stars. “You’re a candidate, one of many.”

“A candidate for what? Speak plainly,” Paul warned coldly.

“To stop Omega,” said Olasqy plainly.

Paul’s sigh could not have been more exasperated. “The astrobeing again. I suppose you think he’s the beast from my visions, but I never really got a good look at it.”

“Believe what you will. But I know Omega, and I think it’s possible that touching the obelisk back on Movaj gave you a brief glimpse into his mind, of what he plans to do. Finding more might even lead you to him,” Olasqy said as he made a few adjustments to the ship’s controls.

“And if I do find him?”

“Hitting him with that sword I gave you would be a good start,” Olasqy cocked his thumb back where the case lay on the other side of the bridge. “The honest answer though...I don’t really know. At least we’ll know he can be found.”

“How reassuring,” Paul said as he ran his fingers over the silver map’s smooth surface, interrupted only by the small etching on the center. He had never come across something so remarkable in all his years traveling the galaxy. He had seen weapons that could reduce entire worlds to glass, a planet inhabited by sentient flora, black holes capable of warping time and reality, even other alien trinkets that could defy the very laws of physics. But this map was different; Paul simply knew it. What treasure did it lead to? Long lost knowledge, or if that crashed ship on Movaj was any indication, immense power Paul could use to exact his revenge on Emperor Reyleonard. Curiosity burned like a fire.

“So, will you join me?” Olasqy asked.

“Very well,” Paul said with determination. “To Kanchi.”