WARLORDS OF ANDROMEDA

Chapter 1

"I believe you're looking for me." The image of a painfully awkward pasty-faced male scientist in his twenties doing the talking kept projecting itself from different locations. He was not what Dargan had expected; he didn't exactly jive with the notion of a sage. He poured a glowing green liquid from a vial into a beaker as he talked. 

"Settle the hell down, will ya?" 

"After your recent savagery, you can hardly blame me for not wanting you to get a fix on my real location." 

"As I recall, the serpent tried to eat me. I was just defending myself." 

"You should respect life more." 

"So they keep telling me. But life these days leaves a lot to be desired." Dargan noticed the glitchy image of the dark, curly haired man lacked depth and substance. "What is that, thought projection? I hear you monks are good at that." 

"Very perceptive of you. Most dullards of your type usually have to shoot me a few times before they catch on." 

"The thought had occurred to me. I figured I'd give you a chance to get a little more annoying, first." 

"So ask your question." 

"I didn't come looking for your sage advice." 

"So you were lying to the pilot back there?" 

"Yeah, I do that a lot. I hope you're not tallying my vices - at least not without some sort of recording device to help you keep track." Dargan saw the smirk on the sage's face, which he was quick to suppress, probably not wanting to weaken his bargaining position by showing any affection for the rogue standing before him now. He knew the game well.  

"Well, then?" 

"Look, buddy, as upgraded humans go, I may be part of a dying breed, and maybe I deserve to be a dinosaur stuffed and mounted in a museum somewhere. But right now, there's very little in this universe more lethal than me."  

"Somehow, I doubt that." 

"Let's just say I'm good at playing the underdog." 

"All the same, you saw fit to seek my help." 

Dargan let out a sigh. "Call it a willingness to face up to my mortality at long last. I've slowed down a bit with age. And most days I'm about ready to kill myself and save the bad guys the trouble."  

"You can't really be looking for a sidekick?" 

Dargan chuckled. "Hell, you're the younger man. If age hasn't humbled you yet, then you can consider me the sidekick." 

"What is your quest?" 

"To destroy the empire. Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you; I'm the hero in this story. I can see how you might need me to clarify." 

"The empire is the only thing holding a hundred or so ragtag planets together. Without them, you'd probably have war on an epic scale." 

"Maybe. But they deserve to learn the hard way the price of the choices they make, rather than have the choices made for them." 

Swirling the two colored liquids in the beaker, the scientist locked eyes with him. "Your quest is noble, your heart true, your crusty outer exterior not so much the camouflage you think it is. I will assist you." 

"You shitting me? Just like that? No debate? No complaint? No derisive remarks? Surely coming up against the empire deserves a few derisive remarks."  

The phantom smirked again, pushing his thick eye glasses up his nose.  

"So you have a soft spot for smart-asses, too. Well, we have one thing in common."  

"I'm five klicks to the north. I'll put on some tea." 

Dargan couldn't help notice the reflective turn on the phantom's face; on a dime he'd grown inward and sullen. This call to battle was no cause for celebration for either of them, considering that what they were contemplating was complete suicide. But Dargan thought there might be more to the lad's expression. The figure was handsome and young, as Dargan had been once. His eyes were piercing, veritably aglow with intelligence and insight. A different kind of intelligence and insight than flowed through Dargan - but recognizable even to his kind all the same. 

The first piece of the puzzle was in place. A good omen, perhaps. Though he knew little of what he was getting into with this mythical figure. Stories on virtually all the worlds spoke of him in one guise or another, as more god than man. That could come in handy, Dargan thought. But they weren't warriors as a rule, though Dargan didn't mind, as he could handle the fighting well enough for the both of them. Maybe the monk was right. Maybe he did just need a sidekick, someone to nudge him on now that his own will was flagging. Maybe he was just getting lonely in his old age as the inability to settle down had just played itself out. Or maybe he could really do with the help. He didn't trust himself, anymore. The mission he was undertaking was a young man's game, for someone in far better mental and physical shape than he, upgrades or no.  

Ordinarily, a demi-god and a warrior-king would be enough to bring the universe to its knees. But not these days. They would still be the underdogs. But a hope and a prayer were better than no hope at all. And that's all the empire had for sale these days. Hopelessness.