Chapter 2.8

  SAEFTY BEFORE DEATH AND DEATH BEFORE FAILURE

  Excerpt from the Head Arbiter’s speech on the Forge’s First Christening Day.

  Even though this ominous warning was very clearly marked at the hatchway to every egress point on the Forge, Mevasi never bothered donning any of the available safety equipment when venturing beyond the relatively safe confines of the main hub.

  Why would she? For cycles now, no Solonian had perished from a mislaid tool or leaky reactor seal. Not since any possible danger which used to exist on this floating production rig was long since sterilized by the Arbiter’s laws and rules.

  Mevasi had reached this conclusion from the stories passed down over the cycles. Tales that spoke of a place that was once a hot bed of mangy Dockers trying their best to push the limits of the client’s imagination. But now, now this construction bay and everything within her anesthetized sight was now homogenized to the point of dullness.

  There was no pushing through to meet a deadline. No risking life and limb to see that a job was completed. Only tedious boredom pervaded these bays. And so much so, only the sight of Mevasi’s world spinning gradually beneath her feet brought any kind of wonder and excitement to her burdened soul.

  “Why won’t they let us dream?” She asked herself, stepping forward onto the non-heated decking surface.

  Looking toward the northern horizon of the complex, past a row of nearly completed Caharian transport ships, the twinkling edge of Zoenata had begun peeking up from behind her terrestrial curtain. And that sunrise, turned the sky around her a perfectly, gorgeous hazy yellowish orange.

  “Now that’s a reason to rise in the morning.” For a second, she reveled in a perfect cloudless morning on the Forge. It beckoned her forward even though a harsh wind blew strands of matted fur from her furrowed brow. That feeling of frigid air combined with the view made her momentarily forget about why she was here and who sent her.

  “Such is a sight no law could ever temper.”

  Mevasi lingered for a moment in this heavenly sight before reluctantly turning her attention back down the long, frost-covered walkway. There, just before the first junction of construction bays, was the landing pad for the Ore Collector. And standing menacingly by that landing pad was a very large Tralon general just waiting for an excuse to pound anyone into the ground.

  “Why couldn’t he have been one of the smaller ones?” Pushing her powerful legs to move forward, Mevasi tried recalling the exact words Constane had used when describing his one and only encounter with an agitated Tralon.

  “They’re always itching for combat.” She could almost hear his soft and reassuring voice in her head. “It’s from all their useless training. Cycles upon cycles of naturally born fighters scratching an itch which will never go away? Such folly would set even the most levelheaded of their kind down the path of madness.”

  Not that Tralons were known for having anything close to having a level head. In fact, none of their heads were particularly level when it came to the lure of mortal combat. Constane had relayed this nugget of wisdom carefully and with a certain demeanor which screamed… this is important!

  “The only thing Tralons heads can ever really agree upon is the right time to kill, tiny one. And in case you’re wondering when that time is. It’s all the time.”

  But something beyond her friend’s obvious warnings was escaping her furtive mind. Something important, something her rashness would require very soon. Like a hunter zeroing in on her prey, Mevasi sniffed the air and instantly the general’s natural musky scent assaulted her nostrils unmercifully.

  For such a clean and orderly species, why did these behemoths of muscle always seem to smell like a deceased animal cooking in the midday sun?

  “Which head did he say controlled the anger again?” She asked herself quietly. “I can never remember.”

  As if to answer her question, the general took a purposeful few steps in her direction and signaled a word with her was wanted. Trussed up in dark brown work uniform which everyone on the Forge wore, Mevasi mirrored the creature’s ungainly movement with two spritely steps of her own.

  “The left side….” Her unsure words mixed with the biting wind to form a mantra of uncertainty. If this was going to work, she would have to be completely sure. Anything less than that would spell disaster. “Has to be the left side. Right?”

  Finally, after a few more tenuous steps, Mevasi came to a final decision. “I’m sure Constane said the left head was the one you should reason with.”

  ___________

  General Suvo paused to watch the smaller than average Solonian scamper tentatively toward his imposing figure.

  “This is very odd”, one of his heads thought off handedly to the other two. Usually, when any of these little kittens were forced to interact with him in any way, they preferred screaming from across a room or send a communication to his quarters. Hells, even in a group, they didn’t dare come within arm’s length of him. Let alone seek a private audience.

  “I'd have to agree.” He growled confidently to his stunted companions as the lone creature trudged forward in the morning sun. “Cowardice usually heads the other way.”

  Not wanting to cede the advantage of his position afforded, Suvo decided to hold fast by the landing pad’s control station and wait for this unfortunate individual to come to him. And they did, step by step, without a hint of apprehension in their body language. Amazing, he thought to him-selves.

  “Maybe this is the Forge’s version of a sacrificial offering.” His middle head happily sneered at the thought of a confrontation, while the other two emotionally mimicked the first the best they could. “Something to placate my anger until my ship is completed.”

  Behind him, a shadow swept across the expansive sky blocking out a good deal of Zoenata’s morning light. Startled by the change in conditions, the general turned his heads around in time to see the Arbiter’s sky ship slowly descending through layers of thickening atmosphere.

  Nearly one quarter the size of the Forge, this traveling fortress of righteousness moved silently and deliberately high above the firmament toward a stable position right off the main hub.

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  “I wonder if that behemoth was constructed here.” He postulated as the sky ship crept closer to its destination.

  Just behind that monstrosity, another ship broke through the belt’s minimal opening at an incredibly dangerous speed. So fast, his military minds first thought this lone craft might be doing something very stupid, like preparing to attack.

  “Who is the madman flying that thing?” Suvo retrieved a set of high-resolution optics from one of the many hidden compartments in his armor and placed up to his dominant eye. Immediately, the device’s scanners located the ship in question and zoomed in so close the general could see every square inch of the Ore’s ship indented hull.

  “At least one Solonian is in a hurry to get something done around here.” The general observed gratefully as the ship plummeted through the outer atmosphere like a jumper without a parachute. “Maybe this whelp of a cub won’t have to receive my displeasure.”

  Remembering the solitary figure still making their way to him, Suvo put his optics back in their home pouch and swung his massive frame around to greet the strangely unafriad lackey.

  “You shouldn’t concern yourself with delivering a message to me, Docker. I think you’re task has suddenly become obsolete.”

  The general stared at where he assumed the Solon worker should be standing but was completely caught off guard to find the walkway devoid of life. He laughed heartily out loud at the prospect of abruptly being alone. “I guess these Solon Fentees are better suited at building ships than standing up to a fight.”

  In response to such a derisive slur, a shrill voice called out from somewhere inside the torrent of wind pelting everything around him. “You know, General. That will probably be the only thing we agree on today.”

  Senses sharpening, the Tralon soldier whirled to his left and saw a lone figure crouching menacingly on top of the Landing Pad control station. Dressed in one of those utilitarian brown suits, the undersized Solon bared a row of extremely sharp teeth.

  “What do you think you are going to do to me, Docker? Cuddle? Do you have any idea who I am? Do you know what I am capable of?”

  The figure, once so talkative, merely continued to stare threateningly at Suvo. More amused than disturbed at the blatant attempt at intimidate him, the general quickly realized who he was dealing with.

  “I didn’t know Sentees were allowed to work the construction yards.” He leaned back on his heels and cackled. “Is that why my ship has been so long in coming to fruition?”

  Unabated by the slight, the mysterious Solon continued to stare silently into the hardened warrior’s eyes. Seconds passed by as both the Ore ship and Arbiter vessel drew closer to their respective endpoints and Suvo tried his best to ignore the Sentee.

  “Why are you just sitting? Are you attempting to preen yourself? Or is how your kind makes advances?” Still nothing emanated from the figure’s suddenly tautly drawn mouth. In response, the general’s once subsiding anger found new ground in which to stomp. “I am trying to be forgiving cub. But if you don’t speak or leave this place immediately, a very painful problem will soon be yours to deal with.”

  Seeming to understand the Tralon’s not so subtle threat, the figure relaxed its claws slightly and slowly rocked back into a position of submission. To such a display, Suvo’s main head ignored the other two’s basic emotional needs for blood and carnage and sighed heavily thinking this pathetic show of force had passed.

  “At least one of your kind has the common sense to...”

  His condescending words fell on deaf ears because before the rest of his diatribe could escape his still perfectly formed mouth. The figure launched free from the control station like an uncoiled spring and struck with brutal abandon.

  “What the heavens!” The Tralon general spat out as he raised his large powerful arms in front of his heads in a defensive posture. Only this move proved fruitless as he discovered much to late that his attacker was stronger and faster than your average Solon. And with that speed, she maneuvered around his slowness and connected violently with his face, nearly shattering the bones which made up his angular jaw.

  Pain, the likes of which he had never known before, rippled throughout his massive body.

  “I will kill you for this.” He screamed, wildly grabbing at the empty air for something to injure. When nothing fell within his long reach, Suvo reared back against the railing to both find balance while simultaneously attempting to relocate his enemy’s position.

  But before one of his heads could accomplish this task, another vicious blow came out of nowhere to strike his left head hard against the temple. The normally silent appendage roared in anger while eschewing a torrent of incoherent words.

  “For the Arbiter’s sake, stand still and face me!” He snarled like a wounded animal as he rubbed his still stinging jaw. Again, Suvo swiveled all his heads from right to left searching maniacally as a darkened shape flitted about against the windy yellow skyline.

  Tralons were heavy, lumbering beasts of force. They were brawlers who could stand toe-to-toe with any enemy in the universe. Well, so long as their enemy chose to do so. But unfortunately for him, this enemy wisely and infuriatingly danced just outside of the general’s well-trained perception.

  “Don’t you have the courage to…?”

  In response to the half finished question, another brutal blow landed against the side of his left head. Staggered for the first time in his life, Suvo shook the cobwebs free from his foggy brains and lurched forward at the first sight of a target. This act of frustration proved to be pointless because by the time the general reached out for his mark, the Solon was already gone.

  “Damn your eyes!” The general screamed as the figure moved back and forth, dancing in and out of all six eyes sightlines. This spectacle was followed by another blow that again struck his left head. Then, three more power hits came in rapid succession, each more rancorous than the last.

  By the time the forth one found its already bruised and battered aim, the leader of the Tralon people had fallen to an unfamiliar position… his very clean knees.

  “Fight me.” Suvo’s middle head commanded his attacker through slurred words of anger. “Fight me now!”

  The figure appeared one more time in the general’s periphery just long enough to be seen delivering a last decisive blow to his now almost lifeless left head. Only this time, when the blow had been struck and Suvo’s massive body wilted to the floor, the figure didn’t disappear like before.

  Instead, the slight Solonian Sentee held her ground firmly above the defeated Tralon’s body like a conquering hero. Breathing heavily, his assailant smiled furtively at her completely dumbfounded prey.

  “What do you think I’ve been doing General… dancing?”

  Upon this well-timed barb, his attacker sagged back against the Landing pad controls, trying to catch her breath. “And I know exactly who you are General Suvo, Leader of the Royal Tralon Army. My name is Mevasi Tiran and I have a message from the Forge council about your vessel.”

  Mevasi watched the general’s two remaining conscious heads slowly process her words. Whatever fight had been within him at the beginning of their conversation was now dormant as the head resting limply against his massive chest. “I’m afraid that due to the Arbiter’s visit. The timetable for your construction requisition has been pushed back three turns.”

  “Turns” was the Solonians way of saying weeks because it took seven earth days for the Forge to complete one turn around the planet. “Three,” Suvo’s teeth were stained with yellow blood from her first strike. “Three more turns… why?”

  Mevasi pointed to the foreboding sky ship hovering too close for comfort.

  “They are here for a trial, General Suvo. And everything comes to a halt when there’s a trial.” She scoffed at this great military leader’s lack of knowledge about losing battles. “You more than anyone in the universe should know to heed the Arbiter’s wishes in matters of punishment.”

  Suvo made no attempt to say anything else derogatory. All the anger which normally drove him forward in battle was momentarily tempered by the Sentee’s unforgiving attack. So instead, he watched this graceful creature begin tinkering with the Landing Pad controls.

  “I didn’t think any of your kind fought anymore. I heard you were too preoccupied with building your ships.”

  “We rarely find the time. As you said, we’re too preoccupied with building ships.” Mevasi turned away from the control station to bear her surprisingly sharp teeth. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not capable of brutality.”

  “I understand that now.” Suvo noticed a few places on Mevasi’s uniform where the stitching had been ripped apart. Probably from all her acrobatic jumping and leaping during their very brief fight. “That dullish uniform wrapped around your body obviously was not meant for combat. You would have done even better without it on.”

  “General,” She smiled at the man’s veiled yet clumsy attempt at foreplay. “There’s a great deal of things I do better without this uniform on.”

  Rolling her eyes toward the oncoming Ore ship, Mevasi was relieved to find her friend Constane had finally begun to slow his vessel down. Too many times, in the past, this seat of his pants freighter captain had pushed these short-range vessels well beyond their breaking point.

  Causing more damage in the process than the next five pilots combined, Mevasi didn’t know whether to condemn her friend’s recklessness or beg to join in. So, with one eye on the Arbiter ship, she waved excitedly to him and his crew before turning back to the still kneeling Tralon.

  “And as for your other bombastic introductory question, I think I know exactly what you are capable of General Suvo... a great deal of bragging.”