Thrax

Agena smiled.

“I think that was the universe’s way of saying, ‘Good job, Thrax.’”

Out in space, a metallic shape, rusty-colored and roughened with age, moved against the stars.  It had emerged from a warp jump and had begun to coast in normal space, moving against the stars.  There was a flurry of activity inside the craft as a smaller object of similar design appeared and came up alongside it.  An access port on one side to the rear of the vessel slid open, and the smaller craft passed through it and into the larger ship.

The command deck of the great craft was in two tiers, facing a viewing port as wide and as tall as the space itself.  On the larger, broader lower tier sat an array of personnel wearing black and gray armor suits, occupying their control consoles.  The smaller, upper tier was occupied by two figures.  One lone, heavyset male figure sat in a throne-like chair, clad in a slightly more ornate version of the uniforms of those who sat below him.

 His skin was as gray as his attire, dry and cracked like the flesh of parched lips of a man who had wandered through the desert, his eyes a dull yellow with green pupils.  The only color about him was a maroon-colored sash that he wore across his chest.  He sat silently, as still as a statue, alternately watching the viewing port and the crew at their devices.  By his side stood a female, similarly uniformed, but with the maroon sash at the waist, her skin and eyes in the same state as the male in the chair.

 At the sound of the door sliding open behind him, the seated being swiveled his chair around to face it, and the female turned with him.  Another figure entered, different from the ones who sat below.  The body was vaguely male, but wrought all in metal.  It had once been shiny and proud-looking, but had grown as dull as the baleful eyes of the being in the chair.  The automaton stopped a few paces in front of the being in the chair and spoke in a hollow voice:

“Reconnaissance reporting, Captain Amlax.”

“Proceed,” said Amlax, appearing to stir into life from his motionless state.

“A system on a vector ahead of us contains one inhabited, life-supporting planet.  It is a spacefaring civilization of the second order, unified and combat-capable.  Its population level and degree of urbanization and industry correspond to those of a colony of another planet or group of planets.  Its organization suggests a republic or a parliamentary government.  Long-range sensor data on the composition of the planet indicate large deposits of mutagenic compounds potentially suitable for Scodax needs and large quantities of warp-enabling minerals adaptable for Scodax craft.”

“I trust reconnaissance went undetected,” Amlax said with a heavy breath.

“No evidence of detection,” replied the automaton.  “The system contains long-range sensors and piloted patrol craft for planetary security.  Reconnaissance ship remained at a distance to register as an asteroid or space debris on cursory scans.  No craft from the planet approached.  Reconnaissance withdrew upon collection of data.  Per standard procedure, analysis and collation were performed en route back to mastercraft.” 

“Very well,” the Captain said.  “Transmit all data directly to me.  The armada will stand by for system incursion once I have personally examined the data.  Return to your dock.”

“Yes, Captain,” the automaton said and turned to exit.

Captain Amlax rotated his chair back around to gaze out the broad, tall viewport once again while the lights on the arm of his chair indicated the transfer of data from the scouting ship.  Amlax paid the transfer no attention for the moment.  His heavyset frame now seemed charged with new energy.  His eyes fixed on the stars outside with an intense concentration, scanning left and right.  “One of those stars,” he addressed the female at his side.  “One of those stars, Venar, will yield what we have sought for so long.  The days of desolation will soon turn to days of glory.  We will again be all that we were.”

Commander Venar looked to her Captain and saw the utter conviction that now animated his once-weary frame.  The prospect of a conquest had all but brought him back to life.  She made no other remark but, “Yes, my Captain.  Out there must be the answer.”  Venar and Captain looked  out at the stars before them.  “One world around one of those stars holds the final solution.”

Once the system had been identified and he had gone through what was for him the formality of reviewing what his scout had discovered, Amlax would act.  He would move swiftly, decisively, and precisely.  The colony planet spinning somewhere in the space before him would soon come to heel. 

Whoever dwelled there would feel his power—and the power of the armada of ships cruising to the aft of his mastercraft.  Outside in space, they followed in the wake of Amlax’s ship, identical versions of the vessel that Amlax commanded, armed with formidable power and carrying full complements of crew.

Together, the mastercraft and the armada, with all hands aboard, would be enough to surround and capture the planet that the scout had discovered.  And the planet, once a colony of some other world, would come into the power of the Scodax.