Thrax

“You keep telling us we have to hurry and then talking around what you’re trying to say,” said Agena.  “What is it you mean, and what is it you want us to do?”

Venar paused, summoning the right words.  Then, she answered.  “There is a reason that all of the forces that have been sent against you are androids.  The truth is that the Scodax aboard this mastercraft, the flagship of this armada…are the only remaining Scodax in all the galaxy.  We are a virtually extinct species.”

Agena drew in an audible, incredulous breath.  Meline pressed the alien female, “Extinct?  The Scodax are dying out?”

“Yes,” said Venar.  “This is the end of our days.  We are nearly gone.  When Amlax faced your Sir Thrax, he told him something of our fate—but not everything.  He recalled how our civilization long ago divided itself over its inability to live with differences and diversities among our own people.  We broke down into tribes in which different Scodax lived only with those who were like themselves and never needed to face any who looked different, thought or believed differently, or lived differently.

 In time, the divisions grew wider, the prejudices more reinforced, and the different tribes moved farther and farther apart to preserve their ‘integrity,’ their ‘values,’ and their ‘purity.’  It was the alternative to the wars we had once fought because each group considered the other undeserving of the resources of our home planet.  That is how we became a scattered race.

“But as we moved apart to maintain our respective ‘purities,’ we failed to anticipate one thing.  There was a genetic defect in our species, a defect that led to a plague that no one tribe had the ability to cure.  And because the tribes did not trust one another, there was no way to combine resources to combat the disease.  That, and the interstellar distances between us, took a toll of death from which the Scodax race could not recover.  We here aboard the Rog’Kalach believe we are the last Scodax left alive.  Even if there are others in some unknown part of the galaxy, they are as doomed as we are.  This is the end for us.”

“Then, what is it that Amlax really wants?” Agena asked.

“Amlax is mad!” cried Venar, sounding fit to curse his name.  “It is one of the symptoms of the plague.  I am fortunate to have been spared that one symptom myself.  Amlax is insane.  He is delusional.  He believes he can use the mutagenic compound found on this planet to reverse the plague.  He thinks he can engineer it into a cure.  And he believes he can use the warp-enabling mineral resources of the planet to create an ultimate weapon against anyone who would oppose him. 

And too many of the crew are either as mad as he, or blindly loyal to him because they believe his delusion.  There are too many for me to fight.  I need your help—you and the other Knights and Corps.  I brought you here to tell you the truth—and beg you to help me end the madness.” 

Agena and Meline took in this story, not knowing what to think, even as Venar stepped behind them, produced a silver rod with a light at the tip, and touched it to the light cables binding their wrists.  At once, the cables fell away.  She stepped from behind her stunned captives and began to stagger.  She just made it to the table and began to slump over, bracing herself up with a hand on the metal tabletop.  She faced the human woman and the Lacertan with a look that even on an alien face exhibited pain and fatigue, and perhaps an edge of desperation.

Meline helped Venar steady herself while Agena pulled out a chair into which the alien female sank, breathless and trembling.  After a deep breath that eased the shaking of her body, Venar said, “As Amlax’s second-in-command, I took it upon myself to take prisoners while he led the primary incursion.  It was I who ensured that the Knights and Corps would be captured still wearing their badges while their weapons were confiscated. 

I knew that even while you were prisoners, you would use your badges to collect information.  I permitted that.  I know that you have schematics of the interior of this craft.  And I know where your weapons are being kept.  I can tell you where to find them.  You must make it appear that you have overpowered me, then return to your people, release them, and reclaim your weapons.  Wait…wait…” 

Seeming out of breath again, Venar leaned to one side, and Agena and Meline feared she would spill out of the chair and onto the floor.  Instead, she reached under the table, from which she produced a Lacertan powerblade.  Straightening herself, she held up the hilt of the weapon to Meline.  “This is yours,” she said.

Meline took the weapon, touched its activator, and produced its shimmering sword of energy.  In spite of the danger of everything they faced and the shock of what Venar had told them, the dragon Dame could not help but let the corner of her mouth turn up into a smile.  “Yes,” she said.  “This is mine.”

“You will need it,” said Venar.  “And you must take one of the bolt rifles from the androids.  You will need that as well.”

Meline said to Agena, “That’ll be yours.  I showed you the schematics for how to use the settings on it.  This is the opportunity I knew we’d be getting—though I didn’t know we’d get it this way.”

Agena remembered what Agena had showed her back in the cell, and the instructions she had given.  She had never fired, nor needed to fire, a weapon in her life.  She looked over at the inert androids with more than a little trepidation.  “I’m an athlete,” she said, “not a soldier.  But…I have to do this, don’t I?”