Of Destruction

Part 2

In every book he read, the dominant darkin presided within the union, but in Lance's experience, the power of the female was the true glue. With his own family, his ishterai resolved conflicts between his parents, usually to her favor.

Until meeting Janie, he never understood how.

Lance pondered further the workings of a complete darkin Union, hardly aware of the station until he nearly collided with a shuffling scientist whose head bent over ker linkpad. Lance looked around himself; truly looked at the Heart. For the first time, Lance began to notice the difference beyond the physical changes to the station itself. Children's laughter provided the true light of the station, but now there was simply whispered silence. Hurried figures moved with heads bent. The hum of the ship was louder than anything else, and even that felt muted and dull. This had once been a meeting place for traders, businessmen, and scientists. There were scientists a plenty now, but those worked for the president's research center, and the only businessmen wandering the corridors lobbied for individual needs rather than as a voice for many. The air felt different; more sterile. The plants, once abundant, had been exiled along with the station's inhabitants. The President seemed to blame even the plants for hiding the assassin that killed his mates. All in all, this did not feel like the Heart he remembered so fondly from even a decade ago.

Heavy steps approached, but Lance ignored them until a heavy hand grabbed for his throat, slamming him into the closest wall. Instinct nearly caused him to rip off the offending limb, but Lance stopped himself just in time. Apathy replaced surprise as he realized who held him. James, eyes dark as night, growled, fist tightening around the captain's corded throat. Lance knew of James' tendency to spy. The bitter keptish must have learned of Janie's rendezvous with him.

James thought of kerself as Janie's protector; a thorn in Lance's side since the moment he met the darkin's sister. The keptisch, the third darkin gender, tended to be either overprotective, or emotionally volatile. Ke had ker sister's best interests at heart, but due to her abnormal habits, James leaned toward overprotection.

In Lance's not-so-humble opinion, James was a bit of a disappointment kerself. Ke understood the harsh reality of being unwanted. As the President's firstborn, the empire expected a dominant. As a dominant, the offspring's place as heir would have been sealed. For the first twenty-two years of ker life, James lived in lavish pampering paradise as the heir apparent, but after shedding late, and as a keptish, ker parent's hopes turned toward conceiving another child; another hope for a dominant heir. Cruel whispers said that ke was now good for nothing except political marriage.

Sadly, this only pushed James further in his stubbornness. The keptisch used ker unprecedented liberty to earn a name for kerself and a place among the Probes. Now, at the age of 70, James was highly trained and supremely effective in meddling with other darkin minds. The idea of having a Probe messing around in his mind made Lance shudder in disgust.

The swirl of color on James' cheeks, a result of ker swirling emotions, showed ker extreme anger. Lance felt only mild annoyance and kept his expression bored as he stared the keptisch down. In his mind, he cursed Janie's human servant. Though he had yet to prove it, Lance knew Janie told the woman everything. The servant, in turn, passed on anything relevant to James.

"You have a meeting set with my ischte? Have I not warned you to leave her be?"

Lance scoffed. "Have you no brain as well as no dominant blood? I will make your sister my ishtera. Our mutual affection has already sealed us, and I will finalize the unspoken union as soon as I convince your dominai of my worth."

"Our dominai will never allow—"

Lance cut the darkin off with an angry growl. "Paumatisch will have no choice but to accept me once I have proven myself."

"Proven yourself?" James sneered. "What proof could you possibly offer? You follow your dominai: arrogant and hot-headed. Do not think that your latest actions have slipped my dominai's notice. You nearly lost your destroyer in your efforts to 'prove yourself'. No one will volunteer to be on your ship, and everyone we force onto it transfers off as soon as they can. You are a liability."

Lance closed his fist and ground his teeth but maintained his silence. It was true that he had caused severe damage to the vessel, but not because of recklessness. His calculated moves were always supported by his bridge crew. It was also true that changeover on his ship was higher than average, but his dominai said it was due to his ability to teach the right ways. His dominai said that crews moved through to gain experience, which translated well to other vessels and newer captains. Until this moment, it had never occurred to Lance to question the older darkin's logic.

James' face lit with victory. "You will never be good enough for my ischte."

Lance broke through the self-doubt, grabbing James' coat and pushing the other darkin away. "Who will, James? Who will ever match up to your expectations of perfection? Your ischte is amazing in every way. Eventually she will have a Union, and your interference will not be welcome. You must acclimate yourself to the concept."

He'd hit the mark. James' face dropped into the darkin version of a pout, changing the color of his lips to a slightly paler green.

Lance pressed his advantage. "Allow her happiness."

James shoved ker rival once more. "Withdraw, Lance. A connection with you is undesirable." Ke spun on ker heels toward the adjoining hallway before Lance could say a word.

Lance re-adjusted his shirt and watched the overbearing keptisch flee the scene. He took a moment to calm ruffled nerves before continuing toward a massive doorway at the end of the long hall he traveled. All paths led to the council chambers; the center of the great Heart of the Empire.

The council, made of dominant leadership, would spend the majority of the morning in discussions of resources and war efforts against the rebellion. Lance could have waited a few hours to join the proceedings, but he hadn't attended a meeting in years and missed the experience.

Lance's call to attend this meeting came unexpectedly and could mean anything. Would he be chastised for the near-destruction of his ship, or commended for single-handedly taking out two rebel destroyers? He hoped it would be the latter—the President's hatred of the rebellion for the deaths of his mates was well-known.

Lance's nerves grew as he neared the massive double doors to the chamber hall. The entrance to the Heart was meant to be imposing; to bring even the proudest darkin to a humble state before he stepped through. Lance allowed it to work on him now, calming his nerves and reminding himself of his place within the empire that spanned solar systems and worlds. He stopped just outside the entrance, returning the salutes of the two outer guards, and lifted himself to his full height before stepping inside.