Triyl had fumed all the way back out to the Kars system where the remaining meagre collection of the once mighty Mogul fleet lurked. Just seven vessels remained from several hundred, but with the addition of the gathering Blend vessels, with cloaking and Genok technology and the super jump Hass drive, Triyl was convinced the GDA could still be defeated. All he had to do was cut the head off the snake, and mopping up the leaderless and undisciplined remainder would be so much simpler.
His pilot swung the small arrow-like vessel straight into the captain’s bridge hangar of the only remaining attack ship in the fleet. Once out of the airlock he handed Treqqer over to security and made his way through to the bridge and found Xarch and Finik’ack uneasily waiting for him. As far as he knew, they were now the only three remaining Andromedan Moguls left alive. Xarch and Finik’ack had been way junior in rank to Triyl and governed remote regions of the Mogul empire. This was the contributory factor in their survival, as their vessels had been weeks away from the action and Triyl had been able to sweep them up in his self-labelled tactical withdrawal.
‘Present numbers?’ he growled, as he marched in.
‘Forty-three, Adjudicator,’ said Finik’ack, sounding nervous.
‘This will increase as the news of the GDA attack on Garag spreads,’ said Xarch, appearing more confident than his colleague.
‘Indeed it will,’ said Triyl, eyeing the two of them cynically.
‘Did my attack ship deport itself courageously?’ asked Finik’ack, respectfully ensuring his eyes were averted.
‘To the last man,’ Triyl lied. ‘As did both ships. They will be avenged once the fleet is up to strength.’
Triyl strolled across to the centre of the bridge and while glancing at Xarch to gauge his reaction, lowered himself into the Mogul’s raised command chair. Xarch’s face remained expressionless much to Triyl’s surprise.
‘You two will organise the distribution of the cloaking and Hass drive units out to the fleet as they are constructed.’
‘Yes, my Mogul,’ said Finik’ack, quickly turning and making for the door.
Xarch seemed to be about to say something, but changed his mind and reluctantly followed Finik’ack out and down the corridor towards the main hangars.
Triyl sat and watched two shuttles leave his newly purloined attack ship, told the crew to wake him in ten hours and retired to the Mogul’s chambers. There he found two semi-naked breeders who began shaking with fear when they recognised him. He ordered them to show allegiance and then cut their throats with the twelve-inch curved dagger he never went anywhere without.
He instructed his guards to eject the bodies and replace them with two more younger ones. He did notice just the slightest hesitation and an almost dissentient arrogance from the guards and made a note to himself that discipline on this ship needed a distinct shakeup.
He awoke several hours later to chimes from the bridge communicator. He wrinkled his nose at the stale odour that pervaded the Mogul’s chambers and wondered if Xarch’s personal hygiene was as lax as his discipline.
‘What?’ he hissed, after accepting the call.
‘S-sorry, my Mogul,’ stammered a timid voice. ‘A message from the colony ship that needs your attention.’
Triyl didn’t answer, but got up, washed and dressed in some new robes he found hanging in the dressing chamber. Arriving on the bridge a few minutes later he was met by a grovelling senior officer who bowed and indicated an image that quickly appeared on the holomap. It was Captain Gradulin informing him their Hass drive unit had developed a fault and required a data reload.
‘He’s only had the thing for a few days and he’s broken it already,’ fumed Triyl. ‘Send a—’
A snigger from a navigation officer stopped him mid-sentence. He spun round and, remembering his thoughts on the lack of discipline, strode over to the man and grabbed him by the collar. The remainder of the bridge personnel quickly turned away and concentrated fervently on their stations.
Triyl dragged the pleading officer across the room, out the door and down the corridor to the outer hull. Completely ignoring the officer’s shrieking, he threw him into the first available airlock and calmly closed the inner door. The pitiful screams terminated the second he vented the airlock to space.
‘Anyone else feel the need for a laugh?’ he bellowed, as he returned to the bridge.
Apart from the background hum from the multitude of control panels and the soft wheeze from the environmental vents, the room was unsurprisingly silent.
‘Send a message back that we’ll reload the unit when the fleet arrives,’ he said, continuing where he left off as if nothing had happened.
‘Yes, my Mogul,’ said the same senior officer.
Triyl turned and made his way towards the bridge door. He stopped at the threshold and without looking back, spoke softly.
‘How many are we up to now?’ he asked.
‘Seventy-four vessels, my Mogul,’ came the quick reply.
He nodded and continued back to his chambers.