Chapter 13 – Arthros
Psychosomatic Output: 10,000 Bio-units
Synaptic Rank: Unbound
Arthros stalked through the landing zone with his blood boiling. He didn’t care to flatten the spines on his skin; he wanted them to be seen.
Was the general population so idiotic that they couldn’t see how valuable his pilots were?
They were all incredibly gifted and excelled in every statistical category. Why couldn’t the Sovereignty see their value? Why couldn’t they understand how lucky they were that he got to them first? They fought for Hokku—that alone was a blessing.
He turned sharply down the corridor that led to the Admiral’s office and wondered if Jericho would survive here. He had the mind and the spirit to succeed, but humans were notoriously fragile. If he wasn’t careful, Jericho could die before reaching his true potential, regardless of his unbound synaptic ranking. He had to make sure that didn’t happen.
“You’re late!” a voice called from down the hall.
Arthros’ spines twitched. He wasn’t even in the room and he was already being yelled at. He deactivated Zero specifically for this conversation; the last thing he needed was her antagonizing jealousy distracting him.
He turned to the corner to see his old friend seated behind her desk.
“Admiral,” he said, nodding at the decorated female sprawling in her padded chair. “It’s good to see you.”
“You’re late, Arthros,” she grumbled, drumming her fingertips on her desk. “You can add it to the long list of why I’m pissed off today.”
“How long of a list?”
She gave him a flat stare, “You can’t just leave the planet—you have a military occupation. This planet relies on you. I rely on you.”
Arthros grabbed an empty chair and slowly lowered himself, “My vacation was overdue.”
“You don’t get a vacation,” the Admiral snapped. “I need you here.”
“I’m not the only one who can pilot a HWND, you know.”
“Yes, but none of them have the same reputation you do. What am I supposed to do when you’re requested personally? I damn near died of embarrassment when I had to tell them I didn’t know where you were.”
Arthros let out a low sigh, “So, it’s about them.”
“They tried to have you executed, do you realize that? They’re questioning my ability as a leader because I can’t ‘control’ you.”
He snorted, “You never could.”
“Arthros!” She gave him a look so cold he stiffened, “This is not a game; this is my career. I won’t be able to hold them back much longer.”
Arthros narrowed his eyes, “What do you mean? The Sovereignty doesn’t hold any power over the Navy. We’re autonomous.”
The Admiral sighed and seemed to sag into her chair. “There was an announcement…they’re pushing for a Sovereignty representative to earn rank as an Admiral.”
“They–what!” Arthros bared his teeth, “When was this announcement? I didn’t hear anything.”
“Because you were gone!” she slammed her fist down. “Off on another foolish adventure. This is serious, Arthros. They don’t want to be left in the dark anymore.” She frowned and jabbed a finger at his chest, “They don’t want you to embarrass them anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They’re going to strip you of your rank and reassign you to the personal guard.”
Arthros bristled, “I’d sooner have them extract Zero.”
The Admiral gave him a dark look, “Don’t give them any ideas. There’s nothing I can do to stop this, Arthros.”
“What will happen to my division?”
“I’ll do my best to protect them, but I can’t offer any promises. You have always been the sole reason they’re tolerated. The public wants to forget about them, and the Sovereignty wants them dead.”
He could feel a vein bulging out of his neck as he gripped the armrests of the chair. How he longed to wrap his hands around the Sovereignty’s skinny necks. Couldn’t they see what he was trying to do? It was all for the benefit of the star system.
“There’s got to be something we can do,” he ground out.
Admiral Zludikai let out a dry chuckle and shook her head, “Sure, but I doubt it’s going to be possible.”
He tapped the tips of his teeth together. “What is it?”
“You have to behave yourself.”
Arthros snorted but Zludikai crossed her arms and gave him a serious look. “I’m not joking. Be what you were born to be—a good soldier. Don’t make it easy for them.”
He took a deep breath and nodded curtly, “Fine, whatever you need.”
She gave him a smile devoid of warmth, “For both of our sakes, I hope you mean it.”
Arthros wanted to wipe the smile from her face and scream some sense into her. She was just as bad as they were—a slave to their own societal ideals and political standings. He wanted to force her to understand that they were playing her, but she would never listen. She was too proud, too caught up in her own mind and worrying over her career. Hokku was dying, couldn’t she see that? He closed his eyes and, in an effort to stop his mind from racing, dug his fingers into his thigh. Why could no one understand?
“Are you alright?”
He opened his eyes to the Admiral peering at him with a concerned look.
“I’m fine.” He pushed himself out of the chair, “Anything else?”
She stared at him with a puzzled expression, “We’ve only just begun. Sit back down.”
“I–” Her eyebrows raised. With an annoyed growl, he roughly grabbed the chair’s headrest and forced himself back down. “Well?”
“Why were you on Kleth'altho?”
“Recruiting.”
Zludikai frowned, “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Arthros said nothing and studied the desk in front of him.
“Were you successful?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“So, you brought one back?”
“I did.” He traced a finger along a groove in the polished wood.
She sighed, “This is the complete opposite of good behaviour.”
“Obviously I made this decision before I heard about the potential reassignment.”
She folded her hands together, “Get rid of it.”
His head snapped up, “What?”
“You’ll have to get rid of it. The Sovereignty won’t stand for it.”
“The Sovereignty doesn’t need to know!”
Zludikai shook her head, “They’ll find out eventually, and when they do, that could be the final stone.”
Arthros’ spines bristled, “He passed the integration—I’m not going to just get rid of him.”
She shrugged, “It’s not up to you, or me. The Sovereignty will not allow–”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Tril forsake the Sovereignty!” he snapped. “Those idiots don’t know what they’re talking about. This is a military matter.”
She made a tight line with her mouth, and her own spines threatened to stand on end. “Watch your mouth, Commander. They don’t have the influence yet, but they will, and when they do, I don’t intend to lose my position over an unproven alien you’ve brought over.”
He shook his head, “Then I’ll take the blame. It was my choice.”
She looked indignant, “That’s not how this works. I’m your commanding officer! I can’t just ignore–”
“You can’t ignore something you’ve never known about. When they find out, tell them you never knew and then you can condemn me to whatever punishment you deem fit.”
She was silent for a long moment, studying him with a cool eye and pursed lips. “That could be a court martial…that could be an execution.”
He glared at her and shrugged, “Okay.”
There was an uneasy silence in the office as the Admiral seemed almost offended by his answer. He debated telling her Jericho’s true potential—that he was unbound. Would she even believe him?
“You want this recruit to stay that badly?”
Arthros nodded slowly, “I have a good feeling about him.”
Zludikai raised a hairless eyebrow, “I’ve heard that before.”
He only shrugged and watched Zludikai think it over. Her white eyes narrowed, and she leaned on the desk. Arthros had to look away. He never was good at looking her in the eyes.
“You know something,” she whispered.
“I know a lot of things,” he said carefully.
She snorted, “If this is going to work, then I need you to tell me everything.”
“So you’re going to help me?”
Zludikai lifted a finger, “I didn’t say that. Secrets first, trust and assistance later.”
Arthros contemplated what amount of truth he was willing to part with. In the end, he figured there was only one piece of information that would truly win her over.
He glanced at her, and she leaned back in her chair with folded arms, “I’m listening.”
“This recruit has a very promising Synaptic Rank.”
Zludikai’s expression flickered with interest, but she maintained her neutral expression with practiced effort. “They’re already rank eligible?”
Arthros’ tongue explored the inside of his cheek as he hesitated, “Not exactly.”
“Just spit it out, Arthros.”
He ran a hand over the spines on his head and sighed, “He’s unbound.”
Zludikai stared at him with a mixed look of confusion and disbelief.
Spurred by her silence, Arthros continued, “I didn’t believe it at first either, but Zero scanned his psymetra score four times on Kleth’altho and twice on my ship. It was unreadable.”
She blinked and gave a slow shake of her head, “That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s unbound.”
It was Arthros’ turn to lift a brow, “Come on, ‘Kai. What else could that possibly mean?”
Normally, the nickname elicited a sharp-tongued retort and a finger wag.
She just stared at him, brow knit in incomprehension. “That doesn’t make sense, Arthros. It’s unprecedented. It’s never been done.”
“What, I don’t exist?”
She scoffed, “You don’t really count. Your situation isn’t natural.”
The distaste in her words stung, but he tried not to think about it. “Even more reason to keep him alive.”
For a moment, they both sat in silence. Arthros watched her as she stared holes into her desk. He found himself drawn to the fine lines of her face. In another life, maybe he would have reached out to caress her cheek. His wandering thoughts stumbled into the inevitable reality of his destiny. It didn’t matter if he had an infinite amount of lives, each one would end the same way.
He was created for a single purpose, and he wouldn’t change that for something so superficial as attraction.
He tore his gaze from her face and looked around the office. It was a simple room with bare walls and sparse furniture—an intentional design choice. The less inviting, the more likely she was to spend time in the field. Arthros was sure she would turn down the next promotion, because the next rung on the ladder would force her behind a desk for the rest of her life. She wasn’t that kind of person. It was one of the things he admired the most about her.
“You’re insane,” the sound of her voice pulled him from his thoughts.
His lips twisted in a wry grin, “I’ve heard.”
“So, what race is this one? Another Myrd hopefully.”
Before Arthros could respond, a chime sounded from the tiny floating globe on the desk. The Admiral glanced at it and then muttered a curse.
“We’ll talk later—looks like I’m needed.”
With a grunt, Arthros pushed himself out of his chair and cracked his neck with a few sharp pops. “Nothing to worry about, I hope?”
She gave him a bland look, “When was there not?”
Arthros shrugged, “What about the breach? When do you want to talk about that?”
The female pursed her lips, “Just send me your reports and I’ll go over them myself. I’ll track you down if I have any questions. This breach has exposed us; it’s not good.”
He narrowed his eyes at her obvious weariness. It took a lot to shake Zludikai, and the fact that she was this visibly taxed concerned him.
She met his questioning look and it was her turn for a wry grin, “Oh now you’re pretending to care? Go train your unbound recruit. We’re going to need him.”
With a half-hearted salute, he slipped out of the exit. At least he was able to escape the meeting without having to disclose Jericho’s race. If she knew it was a human, who knows how she would have reacted? Though, he couldn’t shake the unmistakable look of dread that he caught in her eyes. There was something wrong. He thought back to his purpose and why he had been created in the first place.
To protect Dromedar.
***
The common room wasn’t usually crowded, but the excitement of the new recruit had all the pilots gathered. It was a large, circular room painted blue on one half and gold on the either. Lounging furniture was arranged in a smaller circle at the center of the room, large enough for all the pilots to sit comfortably, even Dight.
When Arthros entered, everyone was sitting on the cushioned furniture. Their chatter died when he cleared his throat to catch their attention.
Scor and Flux bounded up to greet him. The Twin Hokkonians looked identical. They were abnormally short but made up for it in muscle bulk. They embraced him in a bone-crushing squeeze and he had to pry their arms off.
“Where’s Jericho?” he grimaced, shaking free of the hug.
“I asked the same thing,” one twin said.
“Randrea said we couldn’t see him for a few hours,” the other grumbled.
Arthros shot a questioning glance at Randrea, who made a tight line with her mouth and shook her head.
“What happened?” he growled.
“The human got smart with us,” Fydither sneered.
Arthros felt his mood sour, and he couldn’t help but shoot an uncharacteristic glare at the Ordanian, who withered beneath it.
“I know Fydither didn’t do anything,” he said sarcastically. He looked around, but all eyes were on the floor. “What. Happened?”
It was Randrea who spoke up, “There was a fight.”
His sour mood darkened, “Is he dead?”
“I didn’t hit him that hard,” Graito said quickly, meeting Arthros' stare for an instant before dropping his own back to the floor.
“He’ll be waking up soon, Commander,” a watery voice said from the far corner of the room. Arthros glanced at Sto'ram, her large black eyes rolling wildly like a nervous animal, “I attended to his injuries.”
The common room was dead quiet as they all watched him carefully. Sto'ram took a few slow steps backward and the twins shuffled uncomfortably.
He took a deep breath, “Jericho is one of us. I don’t care what you think about humans, that ends here and now.”
They all nodded, too afraid to speak out.
“Graito,” Arthros growled. “Don’t forget about how we met. You are in no place to cast judgment.”
“Yes sir, I– I’m sorry.” The Myrd’s four arms drooped and he dropped his head.
“If it happens again, it will be you in the infirmary. Do you understand?” The anger in his stomach dissipated, and he felt a flicker of guilt at the hurt look on the Myrd’s face. He had to press on. “There is no place in my division for us to be turning on each other. You have enough enemies out there; you don’t need them in here.”
Randrea glanced at Graito and chewed on the inside of her cheek, “Cap, Graito was only defending the program. The human claimed his surname was Hound.”
Arthros suppressed a wince. He was hoping to keep that a secret. “I understand how that was jarring, but it doesn’t mean you just lose control.”
The hypocrisy of his words were heavy enough to weigh their gazes. No one dared to challenge him, but they all knew. Arthros was the last one to be preaching self-control. He pushed out the image of the human he killed on Kleth’altho with an irritated grunt.
“Smart of you all to keep your mouths shut,” his words were enough to ease some of the tension, and he caught a hidden smile on Randrea’s face. “Don’t call him Hound. You think I am? Absolutely not, but that’s my only compromise. Outside of training, he’s one of us.” He swung a pointed finger across the group, “Do you understand?”
There was a collective, "Yes sir," and he nodded to the group. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
He stepped out of the common room, and took a moment to collect himself. He wanted to punch a hole in the wall, but managed to still his anger. He wasn’t sure who he was more angry with.
He stormed toward Jericho’s room, and heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see the twins following him. “What are you two doing?”
“Going to talk to the human,” Scor said sheepishly. Fluxor nodded vigorously.
Arthros gave them a flat look, “You can once I’m finished. Wait out here.”
He reached the door and placed a hand on the key tab. The door slid open automatically.
The room was small for a Hokkonian, with a closet and a door that led to the washroom. It was relatively empty except for a small desk and a hammock which hung at the far end of the room. Sitting in the hammock, with a bandage wound around his head, was Jericho.
The human gave him a surprised look, “Arthr– I mean Commander, what are you doing here?”
In an instant, all the frustration of the day's events erupted and he stomped toward the young human. There was too much at stake for him to take such a beating so easily. Didn’t he fight back? Was he bested by Graito so effortlessly? Was he really going to entrust the future of his career and the division to an undersized human?
With a frustrated snarl, he caught Jericho by the throat and lifted him out of the hammock. “Did I make a mistake bringing you here?”
Jericho clawed at the hand around his neck and stared at Arthros with confused fear. All he could manage was a strangled gurgle.
“I can not afford for you to be a disappointment.”
He let go and Jericho fell to the ground, choking and sputtering. He marched away before he could feel guilty. He pushed his way past the twins who waited eagerly in the hall.
“He’s all yours.”
He heard the twins barge into the room with their typical loud energy. They were the best people for Jericho to see right after what just happened. Unlike the other Hokkonians, they cared little for the societal hierarchy. He wasn’t sure if they shared a single prejudicial bone in their bodies.
He couldn’t help the guilt that hung around his heart like a chain, but it was for the best. He had to bring out the best in the human. For everyone’s sake, the human had to suffer.
Patreon / /
Whose perspective do you like reading from the most?
