“No. There were survivors, and we have taken very good care of them. In fact, they think they have escaped, that they have evaded us.” He laughed and snorted. “But here is the reality.” The video pulled back to encompass the stars nearby. Two cruisers were in orbit above the Vellosian settlement.
Both cruisers were the newer model, with multiple ion turrets on top. Both made after the war to protect merchant ships from pirates in Federation space, or so they said.
"So now do you believe?" said the Emperor.
Merthon shook his head. And his heart was filled with longing for these people. Maybe he and Jamis were not the last, as they had feared. And suddenly a new desire welled up within him. Desire to live. The Emperor had given him something that he hadn't felt in a long time: hope.
"I see that you believe. Good," said the Emperor. "And now for a difficult matter.”
Merthon had forgotten about the thin creature the Emperor had drug in. But now the large, black mech reached down, grabbed the thin humanoid by the arm and tossed him into the center of the room right next to Merthon.
For the first time Merthon got a good look at the thin, sickly being. And he was shocked. Staring up at him was the pale, gaunt face of a Vellosian. Jamis.
Merthon reached down to touch him. "Oh my dear friend what have they done to you?" he said.
"Do not speak to him!" said the Emperor. "Do not even look at him. I know of your sneaky communications." Jamis reached up and held Merthon’s hand. Merthon knew that he was close to death. But why?
Merthon stood up to face the Emperor. "What have you done to him?"
"Sit down," said the Emperor. "If you wish to live simply answer my questions." Merthon sat down. "I know about the stolen fuel cells from the storage bay on sub-level three. I know that one of you had something to do with it."
Merthon's heart sank. The Emperor knew about his plan. And now with Jamis nearly gone, all hope was lost.
"Which of you stole the fuel cells? Where do they go?"
Merthon decided that he was going to tell the Emperor everything. What would it hurt? The hero had not come. Merthon would confess his failure and maybe Jamis at least could be spared. But he never got the chance.
"I did it!" said Jamis, with a raspy paperthin voice. Merthon looked at him with wide eyes. Jamis was using every bit of energy he had left.
"No!" screamed Merthon.
And then Jamis pushed Merthon down, "Be quiet!" he yelled. "I sent Jolo Vargas back to the Federation in a Racellian escape pod. He knows the coordinates of the worm worlds. He's going to destroy them.”
Merthon did not see when the Emperor had turned on his staff. All he saw was the glowing red move through his friend Jamis like a stick through a wet leaf. And what remained of his frail body fell onto the dirt floor. Jamis’s words had enraged the Emperor. And he cursed in his own, rotten Bakanhe Grana tongue. He’d stopped running audio through the translator and Merthon could hear the worm inside screaming and it was horrible.
Jamis lay there with a burning hole in his chest and he just looked at Merthon with a calm, placid face. He nodded to Merthon as if they’d just agreed on something. Like they’d just made some arrangement, only Merthon didn’t know what the deal was. Didn’t know anything except his friend was going to die. And Jamis’s death would be his fault. He’d stolen the fuel cells. One life in exchange for some fuel cells out of a BG transport that propelled a half-human back to civilization.
And nothing to show for it. Soon, when the children were grown, he too, would feel the end of the red stick. Curse the hero, he thought. I would trade a thousand Fed captains for one Jamis.
Merthon ran towards the Emperor, and struck him with his bare hands. But his soft flesh was no match for alacyte. He bounced off the Emperor, landing near his dead friend and burst into tears.
“He was dead anyway, you fool, I simply prevented any further suffering. Could you not see that?” said the Emperor. Merthon looked up at him wishing with all of his being that he could kill the mechanical beast.
“Yes, good. I see the fire in your eyes again,” said the Emperor. “Now. Your work is almost finished, but you are not done. Wake the children. Assist with the transition from the tanks to fully-grown air-breathing fighters, and I will let you go to your people.” He pointed his still-glowing staff at the video which was playing again. Merthon could see a tall Vellosian with a spear dive into the blue water. They had taken to the old ways, thought Merthon. We are survivors.
“If the children die, then they will die,” the Emperor said, pointing at the video screen on the wall. “But do not fear for your own skin, I will keep you as my pet. The last of the Vellosians.” And he started to laugh.
Soon, the Emperor left and another warrior came and dragged Jamis off, his feet making two lines in the dirt behind him. Merthon sat alone in the dark for awhile and then slowly made his way back to the tanks.
Trash Run
Iris, in Federation Space
Jolo sat in the captain’s chair of his new, old ship, given to him by his father, waiting on the Federation Refuse Hauler C43. No one had commented during the planning phase exactly how they were to actually get out to Malifa 4, the last stop before the trash boat they intended to steal headed to Iris. But after they had worked out the plan to steal the Corsair’s
