position of Grand Vizier, what else?”
Tog had no idea what the title meant, but knew no one else had it, not even Dro Rul. “Why thank you, eminence. May I inquire as to the exact nature of my responsibilities?”
“Of course,” Hak-Bin replied affably. “As I indicated earlier there is at least some truth in the rumors that are floating around. My brethren and I will die on or around what the humans call July 31. Some seventy-three days from now.”
Tog, who wasn’t exactly sure of how to react, bowed his head. “Eminence, I am truly sorry to hear that.”
Hak-Bin waved a pincer. “Thank you, but there is no need for regret. Each of us will live on in the memories of successors. Just one of the many ways in which our race is superior to yours. Once born, our descendants will require the services of loyal servants such as yourself. Not the entire Ra ‘Na race, mind you, since there are those who might try to take unfair advantage of our momentary weakness, but a strong nucleus from which the subclass can soon be bred.
“In fact, plans have already been laid to ensure that three out of four of the surviving Ra ‘Na will be female, so that individuals such as yourself will have ample opportunity to pass their genetic materials along to the future.”
Tog felt his emotions lurch from horror to lust. Thousands upon thousands would be put to death . . . but what could he do? Nothing . . . nothing at all. To align himself with the resistance would be madness. The survivors would require experienced leadership, a sort of benign dictator capable of managing their affairs, literally planting the seeds required to grow the race. Tog felt himself start to harden and pushed the sensation away. The time for fantasies would come later— after he escaped from the chamber. “And in the meantime, eminence?”
“And in the meantime you will do all in your power to ensure that the citadels are completed, that members of the Ra ‘Na resistance movement are identified and eliminated, and the fleet is fully provisioned and ready for departure when the next generation of Saurons has need of it.”
“So, the journey will continue?”
Hak-Bin looked as surprised as a member of his race was capable of looking. “Of course . . . Our people shall be bound together until we find the planet called Paradise.”
“And then?” Tog asked, astounded by his own audacity.
“And then we will all live in harmony,” Hak-Bin lied smoothly, “equals in the eyes of the great creator.”
Tog recognized the line for it was, an excellent way to give the surviving Ra ‘Na something to pin their hopes on, and stored the nugget away. “Thank you, lord, I will do my very best.”
Hak-Bin fought a sudden cramp and sought to bring the conversation to a close. “I’m sure you will. Members of my staff will contact you. You may leave now.”
Tog looked at P’ere Has and felt a sudden surge of unexpected tenderness. “May I take P’ere Has with me?”
“Of course,” the Zin said dismissively. “You are the Grand Vizier . . . the entire Ra ‘Na race is yours to command.”
And so it was that Has survived, the Saurons forged a new weapon, and another day came off the clock.
ABOARD THE SAURON DREADNOUGHT HOK NOR AH
The compartment was darkened—lit only by the glow of a red light. It began to flash on and off. Shu awoke as she often did to the persistent buzz of the alarm and the knowledge that something horrible had occurred. The injured Ra ‘Na came in all shapes and sizes with medical emergencies as varied as they were. Lacerations, burns, fractures, infections, and more. She saw them all.
Of course that was what she had been trained to do, and was happy to do, except that as the Saurons pushed the slaves harder there were more casualties.
Shu rolled out of bed, slipped her feet into a pair of sandals, and joined other medical personnel who were rushing to their stations.
Shu entered the emergency receiving station,
Tog had no idea what the title meant, but knew no one else had it, not even Dro Rul. “Why thank you, eminence. May I inquire as to the exact nature of my responsibilities?”
“Of course,” Hak-Bin replied affably. “As I indicated earlier there is at least some truth in the rumors that are floating around. My brethren and I will die on or around what the humans call July 31. Some seventy-three days from now.”
Tog, who wasn’t exactly sure of how to react, bowed his head. “Eminence, I am truly sorry to hear that.”
Hak-Bin waved a pincer. “Thank you, but there is no need for regret. Each of us will live on in the memories of successors. Just one of the many ways in which our race is superior to yours. Once born, our descendants will require the services of loyal servants such as yourself. Not the entire Ra ‘Na race, mind you, since there are those who might try to take unfair advantage of our momentary weakness, but a strong nucleus from which the subclass can soon be bred.
“In fact, plans have already been laid to ensure that three out of four of the surviving Ra ‘Na will be female, so that individuals such as yourself will have ample opportunity to pass their genetic materials along to the future.”
Tog felt his emotions lurch from horror to lust. Thousands upon thousands would be put to death . . . but what could he do? Nothing . . . nothing at all. To align himself with the resistance would be madness. The survivors would require experienced leadership, a sort of benign dictator capable of managing their affairs, literally planting the seeds required to grow the race. Tog felt himself start to harden and pushed the sensation away. The time for fantasies would come later— after he escaped from the chamber. “And in the meantime, eminence?”
“And in the meantime you will do all in your power to ensure that the citadels are completed, that members of the Ra ‘Na resistance movement are identified and eliminated, and the fleet is fully provisioned and ready for departure when the next generation of Saurons has need of it.”
“So, the journey will continue?”
Hak-Bin looked as surprised as a member of his race was capable of looking. “Of course . . . Our people shall be bound together until we find the planet called Paradise.”
“And then?” Tog asked, astounded by his own audacity.
“And then we will all live in harmony,” Hak-Bin lied smoothly, “equals in the eyes of the great creator.”
Tog recognized the line for it was, an excellent way to give the surviving Ra ‘Na something to pin their hopes on, and stored the nugget away. “Thank you, lord, I will do my very best.”
Hak-Bin fought a sudden cramp and sought to bring the conversation to a close. “I’m sure you will. Members of my staff will contact you. You may leave now.”
Tog looked at P’ere Has and felt a sudden surge of unexpected tenderness. “May I take P’ere Has with me?”
“Of course,” the Zin said dismissively. “You are the Grand Vizier . . . the entire Ra ‘Na race is yours to command.”
And so it was that Has survived, the Saurons forged a new weapon, and another day came off the clock.
ABOARD THE SAURON DREADNOUGHT HOK NOR AH
The compartment was darkened—lit only by the glow of a red light. It began to flash on and off. Shu awoke as she often did to the persistent buzz of the alarm and the knowledge that something horrible had occurred. The injured Ra ‘Na came in all shapes and sizes with medical emergencies as varied as they were. Lacerations, burns, fractures, infections, and more. She saw them all.
Of course that was what she had been trained to do, and was happy to do, except that as the Saurons pushed the slaves harder there were more casualties.
Shu rolled out of bed, slipped her feet into a pair of sandals, and joined other medical personnel who were rushing to their stations.
Shu entered the emergency receiving station,
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