Long into the fullness of the night and finally away from Sklaar and his celebrating clan, Orkemlis found himself returning to the only true home he had ever had. As he crested the last debris strewn hill he came into sight of the local airfield and his waiting ship. As he approached the Darkheart he had great difficulty discerning her hull from the darkness of the night. It was only by the open hatch and the remaining crew stowing the Sparrow in its docking bay that he knew the ship was even there. At least Sklaar had come through on this promise.
“Good evening Sir,” Said Felix, a well-dressed human who stood next to the Sparrow. He was directing its loading into the Darkheart. “It’s good to see you again.”
Orkemlis genuinely smiled at Felix as he stopped to survey what was happening. It was the first time he had smiled in days. “It is good to see you as well Felix. I feared you would be among the losses.”
Felix’s athletic face slumped visibly at the mentioning of what the crew had gone through. “I was with the Darkheart when the landing force was attacked. The Amarogray tried to protect them, but the force was wiped out. Sklaar ordered his personal guard to destroy the city before any more of us were lost.”
“Then I’m truly indebted to Sklaar for keeping the rest of you alive.” Orkemlis turned to look again at the slightly shimmering area in front of him that was his pride and joy.
Felix smiled as he followed his bosses gaze. “The stealth field is amazing as you can see. It only requires a tenth of the power it used to. The jump drive…Orkemlis, this baby is the fastest, most maneuverable, farthest-reaching jump ship in the known universe! I can’t even begin to tell you…”
Orkemlis held up his hand and smiled again. “As long as everything I asked for has been done I will be satisfied. Right now, I need to see my office, I should finish revisions to the new game before the opening moves go too far. We have already lost much. You can fill me in later on all the upgrades. Please hurry with getting everything stowed, I want to leave this place as soon as possible.”
Felix gave Orkemlis an understanding nod. “Yes, Sir.”
Orkemlis turned and left Felix to his job and walked up the waiting ramp of his beautiful, deadly ship.
* * *
The soft hum of the ship’s fusion reactors vibrated through the air of his small office as the Darkheart made yet another course change in its long journey back to the vast interstellar region of the First Galaxy known simply as the Frontier and away from Sklaar and his clansmen. Orkemlis sat at an ornately carved desk within his long-missed office with his red robes wrapped loosely about himself. His attention was consumed with a multitude of holographic monitors before him, each with a different algorithm that filled the air above the dark stained wood of the desk.
Beyond the desk, on shelves and in cases, the office held strange and unique treasures from a lifetime that so far had spanned over two millennia. Some objects were opulent calling to mind visions of royalty and privilege. Some were seemingly bland and even common, as if found at a bargain sale at a flea market. Tucked here and there among these two extremes were items so vile, so unspeakable, that any being who was unfortunate enough to see them would have wondered just what gilded hell they had walked into. Not even Sklaar would have felt comfortable in this place for long.
Orkemlis moved a long series of holofiles to the fore and considered who to involve in the coming game. Who would serve his needs? Who would offer the most entertainment? Who would be a challenge? Immediately Orkemlis took Sklaar’s formidable image and put it off to the left. Sklaar was a true wild card, dangerous, highly volatile, and unpredictable. If the Amarogray proved himself worthy by the end of the game, he would be worth twice the number of crew lost to the Zancozy.
If’s were not going to help right now however. The cold hard reality was that Orkemlis was seriously short staffed in key areas. He needed scientists and engineers as well as brute muscle. Someone with a better sense of the current political landscape would be helpful too. He had lost too many valuable assets far too quickly. The algorithms had shown this might happen but never the less, it was hard to accept. For long moments, more images flipped by in front of him at a blur, only occasionally did he stop for a possible candidate but none so far with a probability score above thirty-seven percent.
A soft beep cut the relative quiet of the room. “Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt you,” said a quiet, mechanical voice over the com unit on his desk, “monitor seven has something for you Sir.”
“Thank you, Nistel,” Orkemlis said easily. “Send the data feed to my office.”
“Yes Sir.”
Orkemlis reached out and pressed a button on his console and a minor holographic screen enlarged to his left. For the briefest of seconds, it filled with static but within moments the screen gave way to a view of a clean, heavily staffed Plenekee lab. For a long time, he watched as plenekee techs roamed back and forth. Then, quite suddenly, the camera zoomed in on an old adversary, an arrogant plenekee scientist, Phl’intaal.
‘So, this is where the little worm had ended up,’ Orkemlis thought as he smiled. ‘A far cry from sitting on the Throne of Light and ruling the Plenekee people.’
Like most of his past playmates, Phl’intaal’s own weakness had been his undoing-with just a little nudge from Orkemlis. As Orkemlis continued to watch Phl’intaal slowly made his way about a large, immaculately clean lab with a dark scowl set firmly upon his yellow face. In short order the pear shaped Phl’intaal with his stiff, spindly arms crossed behind him, came to the end of a row of work stations where he stopped and glared at a busy young scientist engrossed in his own work. Finally, Phl'intaal made himself known and as Orkemlis intently watched and listened, he learned of a new technological advance that was so innocent and profound it stilled his racing thoughts.
Orkemlis realized at once the threat to himself that this new technology represented, a threat that could easily challenge the predicted outcome of the game. Orkemlis continued to watch as Phl’intaal appeared to mull over the implications of the device in a slug like fashion. It would not take long for the plenekee to figure out what other uses the device could provide. With its help, it would not be long before the plenekee would turn his mind to hunting Orkemlis down. Phl’intaal’s hatred of Orkemlis was boundless and that hatred was never far from the plenekee’s heart.
Orkemlis quickly turned from the com feed and back to his main algorithms and input the new development. More quickly then he would have liked, the heavily linked graphics of the great algorithm shifted and melded for long sub-units until finally the equations stabilized. And as he read, the more dangerous and interesting the Game became. He slowly read the requirements for fulfillment several times and cringed.
He was going to have to risk more than he ever thought he would have to if he were to win this one. A wave of prickly excitement and concern fanned out over his skin at the thought. Slowly, he typed in several more components that he had been considering using for a long time and there it was, the outline of a Game worth playing. A Game that balanced his need for a challenge and the risks of losing it all.
‘At last! Let those that are worthy earn their lives,’ the voices said simply. ‘Let those who are weak be swept away.’
The voices words brought on a dark smile that slithered across Orkemlis’s face. Had anyone had the misfortune of seeing it they would have been frightened beyond reason. Orkemlis reached over and depressed the com button. “Com, get me the courier on a secure channel as soon as possible. Then set course for The Tel’Bbendii Gap. Send a message to the Hammer informing Lord Oglar we will be late for our usual delivery and alert Alcross that the Darkheart is fully functional.”
“Aye Sir,” The com went dead as the pitch of the engines increased.
He leaned back in his immense chair and took a deep breath, thankful the voices had retreated once more, stirring just beyond his perception but did not intrude upon his musings. Orkemlis let his mind and eye wander his office until, through the floating holograms in front of him, his eye found his reflection staring back at him from a very old mirror that sat across the room. It had been a long time since he had truly looked at himself, as vanity was not one of his weaknesses. One thing was obvious; an air of deadly calm had surrounded him that even he could recognize. But as he continued to look, his mind went past the reflection to look deeper within himself.
There he found the familiar dark emptiness that had haunted him of late, demanding to be explored and filled. After two millennia of life, his outward appearance had not changed; he looked the same he did the day he became one with the Star of Life. However, inside…demons far older than he, from a past he did not wish to remember, waited just beyond his perception. They were voices, silhouettes of a presence and a need; a hunger that would not, could not, be fulfilled only appeased by the playing of the Game. A game of life and death that held no rules, no second chances. Only the strongest willed would have any hope of winning the grandest of prizes, eternal life.
Faint laughing from the edge of his consciousness brought Orkemlis back to his equations and the dark office. Sighing, Orkemlis slowly turned from the mirror and raised a hand to continue the computers calculations. The pawns would be forever changed by his intentions, the challenges of life and death would do that. How would the game affect the public at large? Would the galactic populous remember the betrayer as anything more than a dark legend from history? Would they see him once more as a real threat?
Orkemlis shook his head from side to side slowly at that thought. History so far had remembered him as cold and devious, hated on more worlds than he could recall. Not that any of those descriptions were unjustified. He had used every trick in the books of deception known to civilization to gain many of the things he’d accomplished. No, he was not forgotten. Every schoolchild on many of the worlds of the frontier had been taught to fear his face and more importantly, the name the Alliance had given him.
He smiled ever so slightly at that thought; it amused him to no end that that name out of all the others was the one most remembered and it was the one least spoken in his presence. His legend had only grown over time and now the very idea of the betrayer was so ingrained in the galactic consciousness, that some less evolved beings even believed that if his name were spoken aloud, bad luck would befall them. Such was the power his name still had.
‘So many names,’ The voices said in a sharp, abrupt tone. ‘So many lives…’
‘Shut up.’
‘You want to love her, don’t you?’
‘Shut up’
‘You don’t deserve that, only the Game matters.’
‘Shut up.’
‘The Game cannot be avoided. All must face its challenge. None will escape its judgment. None.’
‘Shut up.’
‘You know my need and you know the price for weakness.,’
‘Shut up! You will have your Game!’ Orkemlis groped at his head as he forced the voices to retreat once more. With a heavy sigh, he turned his gaze to a small corner of his office and the Star of Life.
The palm sized gem had a simple platinum chain dangling from it and the crystal was glowing in warm pulsing waves of alternating colors as it hovered in between the halves of a metallic sphere display stand. For as long as they have been joined, he had never known the voices to be this insistent, this needful. He had been happy in relative obscurity these past seventy-five years until a sudden, inexplicable restlessness had filled him once more. A restlessness that the voices had slowly latched onto until he could not stand the relentless nagging any longer and thus he had begun his planning of the current Game.
He smiled simply then. The Games he had played in the past had kept his immortality from growing stale, the challenges and dangers fueling his darkest needs. As he looked back at the floating algorithms once more, he could not help but wonder…would this be the last game? And his pawns, would they offer a challenge worthy of the rewards? Only time would tell.
His mind was suddenly flooded with the loud, chorus filled voices once again, ‘Do you want to fail or will you succeed?’
‘I want to succeed, I need to.’
‘Why?’
‘Leave me alone.’
‘To prove yourself worthy of this life?’
‘Shut up.’
‘To push away the boredom of a squandered immortality?’
‘Shut up!’
‘Never forget, to lose is to die.’
Orkemlis took a deep calming breath and the voices in his mind retreated, quieting themselves behind their vail of darkness. The sound of the jump engines cycling filled his modest office then; they would be in the Tel'Bbendii Gap in a few short days and well into his opening moves. He closed the computer down and sat alone in the office, the glow of the Star of Life his only illumination. If he succeeded…no, when he succeeded, he would again be a force to be reckoned with and feared.
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