Part Three (cont.)
On the Warlock:
Gregory Farhand felt like his life was over and, technically, it was. The new soulmech looked at his reflection in the mirror of the quarters he had been given. It was little more than a cell with a couch, vid-screen, and table. No bed, no conveniences of any kind. It even came with two guards outside to make sure he didn’t wander around the ship unattended.
Farhand brought his arm up toward his torso, running his metallic fingers across his chest and face. The outer artificial skin was smooth to the touch. Farhand found it odd that he could still feel sensation at all. He looked at his cold, gray reflection again and hated what he saw. His people would never respect his accomplishments now. It didn’t matter if he someday became a Fleet Commander or the Head of the ISPD. Not that either of those titles would or ever could be bestowed upon him now.
He was a freak, an artificial lifeform, and an aberration against life.
“Gregory Farhand is dead,” the words rung out in his small cell-like room. The words were his voice in his head but the voice that spoke them aloud was alien to him. “I am simply Farhand now.”
Farhand the Soulmech punched the mirror in front of him shattering it into hundreds of pieces.
“Seven cycles bad luck,” it was an old proverb that he’d always been fond of reminding others of. “I don’t believe in luck anymore.”
Farhand grabbed the cloak that had been laid out for him and wrapped it around his metallic body. He was ashamed of this metal frame, as it bared no resemblance to his previous body. Once the crisis on Toril was over, he’d have a custom built body readied for him. It would look as he did, as close as he could make them design it.
Farhand tapped on the control mechanism for the door. It slid open with barely a sound. The guards came to attention outside, ready to escort him wherever he chose to go. For while he felt like a prisoner he had high enough clearance to know the truth about Thul Gulokas and the Dragon Brigade. He knew that they were the Emperors own personal group of privateers. Farhand found it amusing that Gulokas thought so highly of himself. He was little more than a brigand and a thief in the eyes of the Fleet Commanders and those few Captains, like himself, with high enough clearance to be in the know.
“Come with me,” Farhand poked his automated head out from under the hood of his cloak staring coldly at the guards as they stood in front of him. “We are going to the bridge. I must speak with Commander Gulokas about the current crisis on the planet.”
“Sir,” one of the guards shifted uneasily under his gaze. “Commander Gulokas informed us that you were restricted from certain areas of the ship until the crisis is averted. You are not allowed to go to the bridge.”
“Now you listen to me, pup,” the guard who had spoken was a human male barely out of his teens. “I am a Imperial Captain and my clearance has been authorized by the Emperor himself. You and I both know that this Pirate Brigade ship of yours secrets works under the Imperial flag. Your Commander does not have the authority to force me to remain off the bridge of this ship. In fact, he shouldn’t even be commanding this ship personally with the rank of Commander. That is what Captains are for.”
“B-but sir,” the boy looked like he was going to relieve himself in his pants. “The Warlock Aspect personally choose Commander Gulokas to lead the brigade and captain this ship. It is a special case, sir. You don’t understand. Gulokas’ word is law on this ship, not the Emperors.”
“Really,” Farhand was ready to kill this stupid guard and be done with this trivial banter. “Does that include destroying Imperial vessels, sailor?”
When Farhand had heard that Gulokas had destroyed both the Basilisk and the Scorpion in cold blood he’d been furious. Gulokas’ mission was to put down insurrections before they started and cull the rebel fleets operating in this sector. He was not supposed to be destroying Imperial vessels. Later he had learned that there had been a spy aboard the Basilisk, but that did not give Gulokas’ carte blanche to destroy both vessels. At most he should have crippled their weapons or captured them to learn more about whom the spy had been and how he’d breached security.
The sailor looked at him dumbfounded.
“That’s what I thought,” Farhand moved past the two simpleton guards and headed for the lift. “Now are you coming with me or are you just going to stand there the morons you are.”
Then the guards did something he hadn’t expected. They opened fire from behind. One of the laser blasts impacted his back. The weapon had been on stun. He was immune to the effect in his new body.
Farhand turned around glaring coldly at the two guards, their weapons trained upon him. He was seething inside but his metallic exterior showed no signs of anger.
“That was only a warning shot, Captain. Gulokas’ word is law on this ship. You will not question your place again.” The other guard spoke to him matter-of-factly. He was older than the other guard and had some dragon in him.
“Perhaps your right, sailor.” Farhand glided back towards the two men without a sound. “I’m sure the Commander has his hands full at the moment.”
Farhand was still angry but needed to get rid of these two trigger-happy lunatics as quickly as possible. He hopped his new soulmech body was up for what he was about to do. With surprising agility, Farhand rushed the two sailors knocking the half-dragon man sprawling while grabbing his weapon. The other sailor fired again, point blank. He missed. Farhand leveled the laser blaster at the Brigade sailor and fired twice. It was still on stun and the boy fell to the ground unconscious.
“Impressive body,” Farhand flexed his arms and legs. “Perhaps I’ll keep it after all.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the half-dragon snarled as he picked himself up off the deck. “Now you’re going to spend the rest of your time here, in the brig.”
The half-dragon sailor pulled out a dagger and moved toward a Comm panel on the wall.
“Oh please,” Farhand switched the weapon from stun to kill and shot the reptilian man three times. The look on the sailor's face had been priceless.
“Now that the pleasantries are over with I am going to the bridge.” Farhand tucked the blaster under his cloak, turned back down the corridor, and glided towards the lift with only the sound of his joint servos quietly humming to mark his passage.
* * *