WARLORDS OF ANDROMEDA

Chapter 7

Sato Palmaris beheld his men mobilizing for war from his perch on the mountain's ridge. The sky was thick with Nifu - the legendary dragons of Mifteria - on whose backs were mounted his airborne fighters. The Nifu were renowned for strategically surveying the land from high above, calculating their descents and their maneuvers with such precision that, in fact, they made far better soldiers than the men on their backs. The riders hitched a ride for a different reason - they were medics, trained to tend the wounds of the Nifu should they be hit in battle. The Nifu were rarely wounded in combat, for they were that good, but it was better to not lose one of them, either. Sato was in no mood for having even one of these assets taken out. The Mifterians themselves were more expendable. 

"It is rumored, Dargan is organizing an uprising." Sato's son, Satchel, was lit afire by the prospect.  

"How can you worship a man you've never seen? When your own father is a god of war?" Sato knew he should be offended, but the glint in his son's eye filled him with pride. Why shouldn't he emulate himself after the greatest warrior of them all? Of course, it could just be talk. The hills were alive with legends on this as with all the worlds. Communications being limited between them and, by the time the truth caught up to the tale, no one wanted to listen to the truth anymore.  

His boy was handsome, hitting his late teens now, virile, but untested. He was confident from mastering many arts of war that he could best anything out in the field. But he had never seen a man brought down by plague and pestilence, by an insect bite, by sheer dumb luck, the hundred and one things over which no one had any control that could befall a warrior on the battlefield. Self-mastery was one thing, but it wasn't nearly enough. No warrior survived on cunning and skill alone. The fates had their hand in things, and the fates hadn't sided with Sato and his people in a long while.  

The boy paced about him, his hand on his sword, as if hoping to provoke his father into a duel. His idea of getting the blood flowing before breakfast, no doubt. "What other news do you have for me?"  

"What will get you to side with Dargan?" 

"Certainly not your withholding the truth from me. A great leader is as good as the intel he receives from his men. One good reason to stay on their good side."  

"It is Nero who has spies everywhere. Our people aren't nearly so good at blending in." 

"And yet I sense you have so much more to tell me." He was all but human looking, taking after his mother. But his genetics were far more complicated than that. Any fool to strike at Satchel would find out soon enough his defenseless human guise was little more than a baited hook. Sato's own species collected DNA from anything they coupled with, stitching together even more complex genomes to pass on to their children.  

Satchel had the insides of a Leeland, and the ability to morph into five other lifeforms, at will. Sadly, Sato had not had a chance to lay down with too many lifeforms prior to mating with his mother. His life as a warlord had precluded it, keeping him far too busy with matters of war. Now he felt he had cheated the child of a genetic heritage by right only he should have been able to give him. He couldn't look at the boy without melting from guilt. Still, he kept his feelings from Satchel for his sake. He wanted the boy to grow up proud and fearless, and so he had, which may not have happened if he could have read past Sato's poker face.  

"Over half a dozen worlds have gone dark after the explosion of Tromidor. The S-phone chatter of uprisings across Andromeda have been all but quelled by Nero's master stroke. No one would dare come up against him now." 

"And yet Dargan dares. And you love him for it." 

The boy couldn't control his own grin. "I tell you what. You go whip up a frenzy among the men with your tales of glory. See if your enchantments beat out their fears. See if in this atmosphere you can drive an insurrection of your own. If you can do that, you'll be worthy of being Dargan's successor. He will need one some day, providing he's as good as they say. If not, you'll be battling one of the other gods of war for supremacy - perhaps even your own father." 

"Not likely. You love me too much to give me your best. You always did." Satchel drew his sword and took a playful swipe at his father. 

"Let's see if I love you enough to keep from giving you a good thrashing." Sato drew his sword and allowed himself to get lost in the playfulness of the moment. Since the loss of his mother, his son's own exuberance was the only light in his darkness. Even his pride over his own warring people, who he would stack against the forces of Crackus or any of the other warlords any day, was not enough to brighten his mood these days. But the boy, with so much of his mother in him, could pull him out of his funks. The blind optimism of youth. To a soldier, that was worth all the gold on all the worlds. Success in battle sustained it. But loss of enough loved ones over time gradually eroded it. Each night he said a silent prayer that no such fate would ever befall his son. And yet he knew in his heart there was no other passage into manhood.