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A Path of Thunder -- Part Five

"Revelations"

Darkthunder lifted his snout only so slightly at the sudden change of pitch from the Tarrakhan's engines as the ship navigated the Tachyon flow. The constant, soft rumble had gone on for days and, as it always happened, it had simply stopped registering in his mind. Until that moment, when the change brought the noise back into full consciousness.

"Ship decelerating, Commander," Grell announced with his usual deep and somewhat unemotional voice. "All engines and navigational systems are operating at peak efficiency. We will reenter normal space in three minutes on my mark... now."

"Acknowledged, Sergeant." Darkthunder did not move his eyes from his own screens as he monitored his own set of status screens. "Lieutenant Arokh, notify the crew."

A sharp, shrilling tone filled the Bridge and the rest of the ship for a few heartbeats, to alert everyone of the upcoming change in navigation. While the change in pitch that came with deceleration would have normally been noticeable to every crewmember, it could pass unnoticed if other, louder noises were present. It was also possible for those occupied in some activities also fail to notice it as well. It was not as if the crew was to engage in combat as soon as the ship reentered normal space, but Darkthunder wanted his crew on the alert for anything.

The few other crewmembers in the Bridge passed their own status reports and announcements before every saurian went silent as Grell announced the ship's movements.

"Approaching exit point. Shields energized. Leaving the Tachyon flow in five... four. Three. Two. One."

The front screens reacted instantly at the blinding flash of reentry, as the shields deflected all atoms from colliding with the ship. Within three seconds, the ship had decelerated to only a few thousand paces per second.

Even if the spectacle never ceased to interest him, it had become so common and uneventful that it barely registered hardly more than a fleeting thought in Darkthunder's mind. He thought even less of the complex calculations required for interstellar travel - like a predator who had found that his prey more than capable of defending itself, the mere glimpse at the complex mathematical equations needed for interstellar travel was enough to make him want to run back to his dormitory to lick his wounds. The terrorclaw was glad that only the engineers who designed the ships and programmed the computers were to know them by heart. As a ship Commander, Darkthunder only required to know their cause and effect in order to control his vessel. In fact, no living archosaurian would ever be able to plot any phase of a Tachyon jump in his mind. Interstellar flight would be impossible without a functional navigational computer inside the Tarrakhan. The fact that every Patrol ship's navigational systems operated with triple redundant backups pointed as to how serious the Archosaur Patrol was about minimizing any possible failures.

Yet having embraced technology into every aspect of his career, Darkthunder could not - no, make that would not distance himself from the ways of his old pack. Like many other times before, the terrorclaw's mind began to wander to places still very much alive in his memories. He gazed with his mind's eye at simpler days, and simpler ways of his previous life as a primitive terrorclaw, naked and oblivious to the galaxy around him. Scents wafted into his brain, of warm, humid jungles, mingling with the distinct smells of his pack mates.

Sometimes he would begin to reflect on his own path. Once, he was a terrorclaw who had walked from an existence defined by barely more than his own pack, his balmy forest, his prey, and only what his senses could tell him. His current territory was made of an infinitely larger pack made of varied species, abstract concepts, and a region whose constantly fluctuating borders required constant updates to the astronomical charts.

He had traversed a rough path, filled with the footprints of uncountable archosaurs before him. Yet except for the few steps taken by his missing brother, none of them had been of a terrorclaw. Darkthunder had kept on running on that path, even after having tripped innumerable times over the obstacles, sometimes hitting the ground very hard. Almost instantly, he lifted himself up and kept on running as he wiped the symbolic dirt from his body and ignored the scrapes and any other wounds in his ego.

Darkthunder paused. The analogy was as much an abstraction as those that permeated the society that was now his own. He could not help a soft sigh at the realization that he had most assuredly had fully assimilated into the whole of civilized Archosaur society.

The voice of a plateback brought his mind back into his immediate surroundings. He turned to look at Maleek, who sat at the Armory console once occupied by Brakkus. Darkthunder made a mental note to contact Ty-Grich and inquire about the groundthumper.

"Archosaur Patrol starship in the vicinity, one thousand kilopaces ahead," the plateback said. "Receiving broadcast beacon; signal match found. It is the Dak-Sstahil, Commander."

Darkthunder trilled with satisfaction. "Excellent. Keana, hail Commander Kre'y'nak and send our greetings. Grell, begin standard approach procedures. Reduce speed and take us into position for shuttle transfer." He turned to face his First Officer. "Arokh, I want you to come with me to the Sstahil. I certainly could use your input on all the information Kre'y'nak will have for us on those -"

A rather loud chirping emanating from the navigator's console interrupted his words.

Darkthunder's crest rose as he realized what the sound meant. "Sergeant Grell! What is the problem?"

"Grell," Keana said, concern etched on her face, as she seemed aware of the armorback's plan. "I don't think this is a good time for this."

The armorback said nothing as he continued piloting the Tarrakhan without reducing its cruising speed. He remained impassive as several lights blinked on his console just as the chirping got significantly louder from the ship's positional monitors tried to alert him of the ship heading for a potential collision with the other ship.

Arokh jumped from his seat and hurried towards the navigator. "This is not the time for the usual salute to the Sstahil, Sergeant!"

"Usual?!" Darkthunder yelled. "What do you mean by_'usual', Arokh?" His feathered crest stood upright as he watched the _Sstahil appear far closer than the limits on safe minimum distance established by the Patrol. His hunter eyes even began to differentiate among the different species of saurians visible through some of the other ship's windows.

"Sergeant Grell! Cease your actions immediately -!" He let out a sharp screech as the collision alarms blared across the ship, alerting everyone of the imminent collision.

"Too late for that!" the navigator shouted rather casually over the noise as he continued the apparently suicidal maneuver.

The image of the Sstahil's_hull suddenly began to rotate, although that ship itself did not move. Even with the inertia dampers, Darkthunder could feel that the _Tarrakhan was turning. The spinning stopped briefly as the topmost part of the Tarrakhan's_hull faced its corresponding part of the _Sstahil, then resumed as the ship continued traveling past the stationary one.

The emergency passed within a few scant seconds as the other Patrol ship suddenly disappeared from the screen as the Tarrakhan flew within a scant thousand paces at their closest point. The alarms continued their deafening racket for several seconds before they died down. Only the frantic chirping in the navigator's console continued, until that noise eventually stopped as well. The Tarrakhan continued turning and spinning until it completed one full revolution as it passed over the other Patrol ship. It finally came to a full stop, aligned with the Sstahil to the port side, almost parallel to it.

"We've reached full stop," Grell announced calmly after several heartbeats, apparently unaffected by his own actions. He punched in the commands to shut down all engines, which brought an eerie silence in the cabin. "Locking positional beacon with the Sstahil. We can now proceed with shuttle transfer, Commander."

Darkthunder remained quiet for a second before he jumped from the higher position of his station and right in front of the navigator's console. Strands of saliva dripped from his jaws; lips pulled away, he flashed his teeth angrily at the armorback at the same time he let out a loud, angry hiss while his large sickle claws twitched frantically.

"I will rip your skin in an instant unless you tell me what in the name of the First Egg were you trying to do with your stupid stunt!"

The terrorclaw's anger augmented as Grell remained almost impassive, only cocking his head slightly to one side, as if unable to understand.

"You mean you didn't know, Commander?"

"Know!?" the terrorclaw screeched as he took two steps forward. "The only thing I know is that you came close to kill the crew of two ships! So help me Maia, I will --!"

His words were cut as a hand held firmly on his right shoulder. Darkthunder turned angrily to look at his First Officer.

"Arokh... what is the meaning of this!?" His words came hard, sounding almost like a growl as he tried to control the now inevitable. The eyeridge appeared only slightly uncomfortable, which only helped fuel the terrorclaw's anger. "What the fuck is going on in here!?"

"My apologies, Commander! I forgot completely. By the time I realized what our navigator was going to do, it was too late to stop him, much less to bring you up to date about his maneuver."

Darkthunder's eyes narrowed as he fired an angry look at his subordinate. "I was going to rip his skin, but I'll start with yours if you don't explain yourself this instant!"

The eyeridge took a step backward, apparently taking aback by the terrorclaw's anger. "Sir... it all started as a -"

"Sir, the commander of the Sstahil wishes to contact us," Keana announced suddenly.

Darkthunder erased as much of any visible signs of rage as he could as he turned to look at the screen. Rage turned into confusion as the other ship's commander appeared on screen, smiling with satisfaction as he stood on his feet at the front of his bridge crew, as if completely unaware of the near collision.

"We revere the Path that brought you here, Commander Darkthunder. It is always a pleasure for this crew to gaze into the legendary Tarrakhan_. And I'll be bold and honest to say, it pleases us to have our relief here so my crew and I can head back home for some rest."_

Darkthunder struggled to keep his words coherent. "Commander Kre'y'nak. I wish... I could speak at a better state of mind right now... but it seems like my crew owes me an explanation."

"An explanation?" The spikefrill looked confused for an instant, then chuckled. "Sweet Mother -- don't tell me nobody warned you!"

"Warned me!? Warn me about what!? That my navigator, and possibly the rest of my crew, was trying to scare the shit out of me? Commander, I apologize for my rudeness, but I believe you owe me an explanation as well!"

"Please don't blame your crew, Darkthunder. It is just something that started as a dare between the late Prion and me years ago. I will gladly accept whatever reprimand you intended to dish out to your crew. If it helps you feel better, there are many throughout the Sstahil who are undoubtedly experiencing the same feelings that you have right now. But I think it is better if I explain it with you on board."

The terrorclaw snorted loudly. "That explanation better be exceedingly good. And since I am the only one that seems to follow Patrol protocol in this sector of space, I ask for permission to come aboard your ship."

_ "Permission granted. I have much information to share. I have something you personally will value. Kre'y'nak out."_

The terrorclaw was motionless for several seconds as he tried to force as much anger as he could from his mind. There was no way he could be entirely successful, but he managed to purge enough to get him to function adequately for the next few hours. His feral nature, otherwise a boon to his rise in Patrol ranks, was becoming a liability he had to become far more skilled in keeping under full control. Much as he hated to think about it, right then he envied Rrayekh's "domestication".

He straightened his shirt wordlessly before turning to address the Bridge crew.

"Maleek, I want a shuttle and pilot ready for departure as soon as I get to the dropship bay."

"Yes, sir!" the plateback said as he hurried to do as ordered.

Darkthunder turned to look at the female longcrest. "Keana, establish a network link with the Sstahil and request that they transfer any information and resources we may need for our mission. Arokh, the command chair is yours. I need this ship geared up for an immediate departure to our first system as soon as I return to the Bridge."

The eyeridge nodded, a slightly concerned look etched on his face. "I thought you wanted me to join you in the Sstahil."

"After this latest... lapse in judgment regarding our navigator's plan, I feel that it is best if I distance myself from my crew for a few hours."

"Yes... sir." Arokh saluted, somewhat upset. He turned his head to fire a fiery, brief glance at Grell, who simply shrugged and tried to appear innocent, as if the armorback absolved himself from all responsibility.

Darkthunder began to make his way out of the Bridge before he stopped suddenly. He growled loudly as he pointed a clawed finger at Grell, who seemed to watch everything with mild amusement. "Pray to Maia that Kre'y'nak has a good justification for your stunt, Sergeant. Or you will wish you had never hatched from your foul egg."

The armorback simply nodded. "Understood, sir."

The terrorclaw could not decide what infuriated him the most - the risky stunt, or the fact that Grell seemed completely stoic to the terrorclaw's wrath. Darkthunder did not turn to look back as he walked out as he stopped to give one last order.

"Keana, contact Rrayekh in the Mess Hall. I want two live hunting lizards released into my private deck by the time I return."

He could feel the beginning stages of another hunter trance beginning to build at the back of his mind. As always, he would spend some effort to keep his feral instincts in check until he was ready to release them. This time, however, he felt that something would definitely have to die.

- * - * -

If there was something Darkthunder despised about spikefrills, it was their seemingly placid nature. As long as whatever they handled was not an emergency, they did not feel the urge to provide anything needed as quickly as the other parties wished.

The terrorclaw resigned himself to wait for whenever Kre'y'nak felt like sharing whatever explanation was necessary for the previous incident. He followed quietly as Kre'y'nak took him for a quick tour around several parts of the Sstahil. The spikefrill did not speak much, however; he deferred most of the exposition to his own First Officer, a female spikefrill named Zurek. She seemed rather passionate when describing the ship's features, as if she were demonstrating them to the Archosaur General himself. Even if the whole presentation only delayed the principal reason for their meeting, Darkthunder knew better than fight Patrol customs during times of peace. Besides, it was far from being completely pointless - Darkthunder made a few mental notes about any potential ideas he could implement or change in his own ship.

He definitely could do without the staring, though.

Just like virtually every archosaur before that day, saurians in the Sstahil felt the need to gaze intently on the first terrorclaw - and quite probably, the only one - that ever crossed their paths. Darkthunder realized he had many things to attract everyone's curiosity; he was an oddity even among his own people. Yet back in the pack, the other terrorclaws would revere him for having led extremely successful hunting parties than for the color of his skin.

Like always, he derived some pleasure in the attention his figured garnered. Even if some of the stares were blatantly sexual in nature. He ignored every single one as he continued to listen as Zurek presented some of the ship's crew and other relevant features.

"You run a fine ship and crew, Kre'y'nak," Darkthunder said as the presentation approached a merciful closing, and the spikefrill motioned for the three of them to head to the nearest briefing room. "I see many things I certainly could adopt for my own ship. Even the air in the _Sstahil_seems more refreshing to my nostrils."

"Thanks, Commander," Kre'y'nak said, beaming with pride. "But the latter is probably because we don't seem to get as much opportunities for renown as the Tarrakhan. We can only wish for even half the reputation your ship carries."

The terrorclaw snorted. "I'm not saying this to make you feel better, but sometimes I feel a good deal of such fame is exaggerated. I have begun to second-guess my decision to take command of such a ship on more than one occasion. My own First Officer seemed rather content that General Zaron accepted his refusal to be promoted to Commander."

"So I heard." Kre'y'nak paused in front of a door, and swiped his hand in front of a biometric reader. The door opened, and motioned for Darkthunder to enter. The room was just like any of the meeting rooms inside the Tarrakhan - a large empty room with a few chairs, and a large table in the middle that doubled as a video screen. Not that Darkthunder expected it to be any different. Rooms like that one, and even the general layout of the ship, were the same as his own, as both ships shared the same starship class.

The spikefrill continued talking as he followed the terrorclaw. "I find rather unusual that anyone would reject such promotion. Many among the Patrol would have given anything to take command of the Tarrakhan. Even with the sad realization that Prion was dead, part of me wished that my communicator would ring, and that Zaron would have had some news to deliver."

Zurek snorted and smiled slightly. "That certainly would have fulfilled your desire to move on with your life without me, wouldn't it?"

"Of course not!" Kre'y'nak said quickly as he tried to nuzzle his First Officer, who took a couple steps back. "That mangy deathjaw would have had to assign you a post there as well."

"Words, words, words. You males are certainly good at those. Your actions speak a different language."

The male spikefrill leaned to whisper into Darkthunder's right ear hole. "A word of advice, Darkthunder. If you marry someone, make sure it is a civilian. You'll get far less headaches that way."

Zurek turned to look at her mate. "I heard that."

Kre'y'nak turned to address the female, a wide smile on his snout. "You know I like to tease you, my dear. Besides, what would I do without you? You certainly keep our bed warm."

"Feh! Like you would ever lack ways to keep your flesh warmed."

The male spikefrill blushed slightly. "This certainly is wandering into rather personal territory." Feeling flustered, he turned to address Darkthunder. "Now where were we?"

"Prion left some really big footprints in his long path," the terrorclaw said, eager to bring the conversation into less embarrassing - and less hurtful - matters. A deep, meaningful relationship certainly was a prey he had proved to be rather unskilled in catching. "Many feel like they will never be able to measure up to them. Arokh said he did not want to walk that path. And I often wonder if this quarry has become too large for me to hunt alone."

Kre'y'nak waved a hand as if to dismiss the idea. "I will respectfully refute that. From the regular newscasts the Patrol Command sends out, I would say you are up to an excellent start. Keep your ship on that path, and before long your name will be spoken about equally well."

Darkthunder sighed softly. "If I don't die first."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's just my terrorclaw nature. We are not really saurians that were born to live placid lives. Our primal nature keeps us on edge a good portion of our lives, even when we would otherwise be at rest. We literally can wear out ourselves to death, if we are not careful."

"May I offer some advice?"

Darkthunder nodded and showed an open palm to the spikefrill. "Feel free."

The spikefrill smiled. "Take your duties seriously, but find the time to completely forget about the Patrol for a few hours, even in the middle of a tour of duty. You need to live your own life, completely outside of your uniform and rank." He gestured towards Zurek. "These little spats I have with my spouse are far from serious, despite how they may sound. It is our way to make our days more interesting. When night comes, we both know we would rather be with no one else. And we often have a good laugh remembering events of our past."

Zurek smiled. "Like that one time when you said you wanted to ask those longcrest singers into -"

"Whoa, whoa!" the male spikefrill said as he waved his hands desperately to silence her. "Let's not go there now, dear! We have a visitor."

Darkthunder sighed softly. "Taking time out of my duties would probably require that I found some close friend. Something I have not been successful at."

"Well, I don't see how that would be hard!" Kre'y'nak said, laughing. "I noticed how some of my crew seemed to look at you. There's obviously the novelty of seeing a terrorclaw for the first time. Though you certainly are not the typical member of your species."

"I have heard those lines far more times than I want to remember."

"Well, you can't blame anyone for whatever thoughts may walk through their minds. You are certainly an attractive saurian; your feathers and atypical skin coloration certainly draws attention. I find it strange that someone like you would have a hard time finding plenty of company willing to share their beds with you."

"That probably gets compounded a bit by the fact I don't sleep in a bed to begin with. I sleep on the floor of my cabin. Back in my pack, the dirt and grass were my bed, like my kind has done since the day the first one of us hatched."

Kre'y'nak chuckled. "You are most indeed a peculiar archosaur, Darkthunder. Don't you worry; one day someone will finally capture your heart, and you will definitely refuse to escape from that hunter."

The terrorclaw simply nodded, deciding it would provide no benefit to air his feelings to someone perhaps unlikely to help with them. Darkthunder crossed his arms behind his back.

"We probably should get to the matter at hand. What has your crew been able to find on those drug runners?"

Kre'y'nak moved his fingers across the touch screen. As he spoke, images of numerous mammals, as well as several saurians, appeared on the screen, moving others in accord with the spikefrill's words. "As you know, the Patrol assigned the Sstahil to investigate all possible leads that could be gathered from that dead snouthorn you came across on one of your incursions. It has been a rather wearisome and frustrating search. Most of those leads have been worthless - they led us in circles, came to dead ends, or continued to locations far outside the Archosaur Domains, or what could be worlds inside our territory that we have not been able to figure out yet."

"Nice," Darkthunder said, obviously sharing the frustration. "I probably should have eaten that snouthorn's brain and see if I could take in his memories."

Kre'y'nak turned to stare at the terrorclaw with one eye. "I would consider that to be a rather macabre concept, but then, doesn't seem surprising coming from a terrorclaw."

"Pay no attention to what I said. It's just an old saying from my pack. Comes from a time when my species was at a stage the other archosaurs would consider even more primitive than we are today. Terrorclaws used to believe that by eating our prey we would gain some of their life force. Of course, we know better than to hunt other sentients now."

"Good for you. I don't see what benefit would be gained from eating my mind."

"More like nothing at all," Zurek said, chuckling.

"Shush, female." The spikefrill continued moving and arranging the data and images on the touch screen, moving some to make way for others. "The most obvious place for us to start our search was on Sukkian-2, so we sent a small team to investigate."

"A perfect gathering place for some of these mammals," Darkthunder said as he snorted disdainfully. "It's just another midpoint in some trade routes. It has very little in the way of useful resources, so no central archosaur government moved to occupy it. Left to the control of various trade associations, it has its share of rather unsavory ports."

"Smuggling, drug runners, and traders for sex and slaves," Zurek interjected. "You name any illegal trade, and someone there has a claw or two in it. We were able to find out that the snouthorn's name was Malath. Just your average saurian born and raised outside the influence and laws of the Archosaurian Domains. He was seen frequently on Sukkian-2. It is possible that whatever organization this Malath was part of has a base of operations there, or the planet is simply a contact point for the drug runners to meet their leaders. These mammals are very efficient at covering their tracks, so we have not had much luck finding evidence to confirm either possibility."

The terrorclaw snorted with disgust. "I don't know why we allow all that scum to thrive there. If I were Archosaur General, I would have the Patrol take the planet and clean it up."

"It would be a rather futile effort. Even if we could get rid of every single bad element, Darkthunder, imposing martial rule on a planet is not the way of the Domains. From what I know about your species and packs, I realize it is probably not easy for you to accept it. The best we can hope for is to eradicate as much of the worst offenders as we can while preserving as much of the good as possible. Besides, it's not like planets like these are full of criminals. They just obviously gather the most attention."

"Yes. I apologize for my outburst. Life was definitely much simpler and clear when I was with my pack."

"Well, hold onto those memories, because it will get more complicated. Among all the pieces of information that we found, one in particular stood out, for reasons that will be obvious to you." The male spikefrill tapped on the screen, and effortlessly moved the images out of the way to bring another into focus, which it turned into an actual video of a trio of archosaurs. An obese, shirtless spikefrill walked next to an extremely tall and muscular domehead wearing even less clothing. Darkthunder's crest shot upwards as his eyes riveted on the third figure, smaller than the other two and walking right in front of them.

"That... that's a terrorclaw!" Darkthunder felt as his heart began to speed up to levels he usually experienced during a hunt. "Who is he!?" he shouted, his words came harsh and shrilling. He then realized he had unconsciously slipped to speak in his native language. "My apologies again. As you can imagine, this is rather emotional for me!"

Kre'y'nak nodded. "No need for apologies. It was as much a surprise to us as well. From what my scouts were able to gather, his name is Rapthor."

"That's odd," Darkthunder said, not daring to focus on anything else around the room, as if afraid the terrorclaw would disappear forever. "Definitely not a name anyone in my world would choose. Terrorclaw parents combine two words into something that describes the young one in some way. I was a boisterous hatchling, even shortly after I was born. So my parents named me 'Darkthunder' because of it and my dark skin." Darkthunder lifted his eyes for a brief moment to apologize again. "Please continue."

"Not a problem. This Rapthor is apparently the leader of this group, but I'll go into more detail on that later. One of my agents followed them for some time, and other than what appeared to be some casual contact with a couple of mammalian traders, he and his two other companions limited their contact to other archosaur traders. However, some of those traders appear to hold dealings with the mammals, so we cannot rule out the possibility that these three do work for the drug cartels."

Darkthunder remained silent as the spikefrill filled him in on the details. Only one thought was coming in loudly, almost impairing his ability to act as an officer and learn about his mission. That saurian - who was he? Darkthunder rephrased the question in his mind - was that he?

"I have an intense feeling about this terrorclaw. Can you enlarge the image?"

The spikefrill manipulated the video so that it zoomed in on the terrorclaw. His clothing was not unlike the types favored by the average freelancing, cargo-hauling saurian, including a couple guns for defense and dark goggles to shield his eyes from the planet's parent star. Like his companions, he did not seem to wear much above his waist - only a short, sleeveless vest, which was completely unbuttoned and did poorly to cover his well-toned, muscled chest.

Darkthunder squinted, trying to focus on the somewhat blurry image. "Freeze the video," he asked. The archosaurs in the video froze in mid-step. Darkthunder began to breathe anxiously as he noticed a tattoo on the terrorclaw's right shoulder. "Zoom in and focus on his right shoulder."

The Commander's feathered crest moved to stand upright as Darkthunder fixed his gaze on what he saw. His hands went for the screen, as if wanting to drag the saurian out of the image.

"By the first Egg," Darkthunder said, barely able to have the words form coherently in his lips. "He's... a Ssrash-Mahr! That's him! That's my brother! Starhunter!"

"Are you sure of this, Darkthunder?" Kre'y'nak said softly.

"It has to be! The stripes around his arms... it has been many years, but they are just as I remember! Gracious Mother, he's still alive!"

"Are there any possibilities that yet another member of your pack would also venture out of your homeworld?" Zurek asked.

"I believe that could be possible. Yet no one else among my pack wanted to follow me. And I think the pack elders would have certainly tried to dissuade others from leaving, lest my pack would become weaker and lose our territory."

The terrorclaw could not help the tears that welled in his eyes, even as a cacophony of conflicting thoughts raced through his mind and his very soul. Even with the painful realization that his brother could be more than just a petty criminal - if he indeed was one - his feelings of elation that Starhunter was alive trumped over the ache he would certainly feel later on.

He turned to look at the spikefrills, who waited patiently for him to finish absorbing the shock of this new revelation. "When was this video taken?"

"About seventy days ago."

Darkthunder cursed loudly as he banged a fist on the edge of the screen. "Damn it! He's most definitely anywhere else by now! This is at least a good start. I will need more information on those other two saurians. It could prove useful to track them."

Kre'y'nak focused the image on the domehead. The enormous saurian had a rather impressive musculature, all of it visible as he wore little beyond small pieces of armor in addition to the straps that held a rather large rifle on his back, as well as a few tools and weapons. Only a loincloth covered his crotch, but the saurian could well be walking naked, for the fabric did a rather poor job in covering his rather massive genitals. Darkthunder could not help but smile ever so slightly, thinking that he finally had seen someone better endowed than his navigator.

"This is Bonecrusher. He's a domehead, despite what he may look now. Not long ago, he was a well-known gladiator in several circles frequented by archosaurian smugglers, drug lords and other crime elements. He has innumerable kills under his belt, all part of those gladiatorial games."

"Are those... deathjaw teeth?" Darkthunder asked as he noticed the familiar shapes sticking out of the domehead's upper lip.

"Good observation. From the information we could gather, Bonecrusher was once a regular domehead, a crony for a relatively well-known smuggler the Patrol had been tracking for a few years. We have no idea what happened that caused his boss to turn on his former lackey. Bonecrusher was tortured and imbued with muscle-enhancing drugs as part of his commencement into these gladiatorial games. The violent training completely erased his original nature, and made him extremely vicious. Some say, possibly insane as well. Along the way, he developed a liking for actual flesh. The teeth were implanted permanently, to ease his new diet, and to give him a fiercer appearance. Other than his genomes, there's very little left of the leaf-eater he would have normally been." The spikefrill sighed. "If only these worlds were not outside our jurisdiction. We definitely would have done something about the bastards who arrange these so-called games."

"So why is he with the other two saurians?"

"Apparently, Bonecrusher killed his former boss and owner. Whether he acted on his own or was pressured to do so, we don't know. The saurian who took over the murdered smuggler's organization put Bonecrusher for sale. And it looks like this Rapthor bought him, and Bonecrusher is now his bodyguard."

Kre'y'nak stared intently at the screen before he continued. "I have to give it to that terrorclaw. He must be an excellent leader if he's capable of keeping that killer under control."

More like being sneaky. Sounds like my brother, for sure, Darkthunder thought, briefly remembering days gone by. "It must be all intimidation. Just look at him; there's no way such a massive brute can be that agile."

"Don't let his appearance fool you. It is not difficult to locate rather gruesome videos of some of his matches across many public Info Networks. The saurian moves and strikes fast. Those he killed died rather horribly, and they were the fortunate ones. The ones left alive... let's just say that if their owners had any shred of mercy, they hopefully put the losers out of their misery."

Darkthunder nodded, thinking it better to skip thoughts of senseless carnage for the time being. "What about the fat spikefrill?"

A larger image of the obese saurian filled a large portion of the screen. Rather sloppily dressed, it looked as if clothes and hygiene were mere afterthoughts for the spikefrill. Going about naked would improve his appearance tenfold.

Zurek snorted as she took over the briefing, clearly upset looking at such a sorry sight. "A rather wretched example of my own species, I'm embarrassed to say. Rapthor often referred to him as Frillhead. Among my species, that term is an insult towards others of our own kind. Kre'y'nak and I were wondering why a spikefrill would choose to be named like that, when we noticed something really interesting."

The female pointed to the two large indentations in his frill. "As you know, my species has these large openings in our frills, which serve a similar function to the holes you have in your skull." She pointed at the image. "But look here - see that third, very small opening right at the top center of his frill? All spikefrills with that characteristic are born from a very rich clan, the Draknan Herd. This makes this even more puzzling. Not only are Draknans an extremely elitist group that rarely associates with other species, they are rather obsessed with their pursuit of physical perfection."

"That makes absolutely no sense," Darkthunder said. "How can such a tightly knit and closed society could produce something like... that?"

"We asked the Patrol to give us more information on the Draknans. The Herd presented no objections to the investigation, although it took some coercion for us to find someone willing to provide the information. Their computers could not produce any records of this particular spikefrill's existence among the herd, but sources confirmed to us that he used to go by the name of Vrannor Radaksha. All records of his name and existence were expunged from the Herd's computers after what they considered a serious offense involving Vrannor and a female longcrest. They weren't willing to talk in details about it, but one can easily deduct what it could be, given the nature of the Herd."

"So he gets punished for getting some nookie with another archosaur? This Herd sure means business."

"Apparently, in some twisted logic that only they comprehend, the Draknans consider other archosaur species 'animals'. Intelligent and sentient, but animals nonetheless. So any intercourse with anything but a spikefrill is absolutely forbidden. In Vrannor's case, a history of previous, unrelated offenses compounded his crime. To escape punishment, Vrannor chose instead to renounce to his name and existence within the Herd, and took on the name Frillhead."

Kre'y'nak moved to continue to fill in. "Both his parents are in extremely high positions within the Herd. His mother is a member of their Council, which grants her some immunity to even the Archosaur Patrol. Meanwhile, his father is the owner of the one of the largest distributor of goods and services in the Domains. Both were under tremendous pressure to remove their offspring from the Herd and send him where he could not dishonor the Herd, at least not directly. How he ended up with Rapthor, however, that is something only the two of them know. But it appears Frillhead's parents still look up after their offspring."

Zurek moved in to work the screen, making several images of a cargo ship appear. Upon first glance, Darkthunder could see it was no ordinary vessel. If there was something that an opulent society would buy, that ship would definitely be one.

"This is the saurians' ship," she said. "While limited in capacity, it more than makes up in speed. It would definitely give many Patrol ships a run for their money. While it runs under the banner of the Draknan Herd, Frillhead's father is only a sponsor - all negotiations and transactions are carried out entirely by our three saurians. Everything seems to indicate that their operations are legal. Extreme wealth can certainly hide many things, however. This brings the possibility that even members of the Herd are the ones paying the mammals for bringing the drugs into the Domains. It would take a lot of digging to find out more about this."

Darkthunder could barely keep himself from smiling at the ingenuity of his brother, even if had potentially turned into a career of crime. "So the whole Herd sponsorship could just be a front for their actual activities. He is quite crafty, this terrorclaw."

Zurek raised a hand. "Permission to offer an opinion, Commander Darkthunder."

"Granted."

"Forgive me if I'm out of line to suggest this, but I believe we should put a priority search warrant for these saurians. While we have nothing but conjecture, we have to face the possibility that this terrorclaw could be involved with these mammalian cartels. The reasons and knowledge are there."

Darkthunder remained silent for a while, thinking. He held tightly onto the table's edge, staring intently at the image of his possible sibling. His feathered crest flattened as he growled loudly in anger and frustration. "I know what you're thinking, and I like it even less than you do. If that terrorclaw is indeed Starhunter, he certainly knows how we operate. It is probably why we are having a hard time catching smugglers. But... why would he do that? Why didn't he just find a way back into the pack? They would have welcomed him unconditionally."

"Let me ask you something. Now that you have tasted our Archosaurian society, if for some reason you had to quit the Patrol, would you be able to return completely to your old ways?"

Curse you, Zurek, Darkthunder thought. I do not wish to analyze myself right now. He paused briefly before answering. "No. I don't think I could."

"So... unable or unwilling to return. And finding himself spurned by the society he wished to adopt. His dishonorable discharge could be reason enough for him to try get some payback."

The terrorclaw let go of the table, his body upright and tense as he stared at the two spikefrills. "I hate to think one of my own pack and blood can stoop so low as to turn against all of archosaur kind. And if he were to be involved somehow in the death of Prion -"

Darkthunder did not finish the sentence as he tried to extinguish the thought before it took even the slightest hold of his rational mind. The mere notion was far too painful to consider any slight possibilities of truth.

"There is no evidence for that," Kre'y'nak said quickly, surely aware of the pain eating at the terrorclaw. "In fact, I had not even entertained the possibility until you just mentioned it right now."

"No evidence for now," Darkthunder said, his voice soft and pained. "But... if he were to be involved... or even if he was not... I need to restore honor to my species. I need to find him."

Kre'y'nak moved to close the distance between him and Darkthunder. "I understand the need for honor and answers, but no matter how well of a hunter you may be, this is not something you can do by yourself, Darkthunder. We need the Patrol to conduct the search."

Darkthunder let out a soft growl as he shook his head. "Absolutely not. Not until I have positive confirmation that he is involved. This is personal now."

Kre'y'nak moved two steps back, fingers splayed as he positioned his arms in a gesture of appeasement. "As you wish. You must realize that I will be required to report our findings to the Patrol. I can try to hold onto the information as much as possible, but eventually General Zaron will ask for a full disclosure. It will be up to him to decide the Patrol's course of action."

"Then I better move fast," Darkthunder said, trying not to convey his mounting desperation.

"I would say so. But before you leave, I believe I owe you an explanation for the events of earlier this day." Kre'y'nak turned to address Zurek, this time with the formality of their ranks and positions. "Lieutenant, I will need the Bridge crew ready the Sstahil for departure. We will leave after the Tarrakhan has done so. And please have two of our crew guide Commander Darkthunder back to his shuttle."

"Yes, sir," the female said. She saluted both Commanders before heading out of the room.

The male spikefrill saluted and turned to address his guest. "There is something else I wish to discuss, Darkthunder."

"Go ahead," the terrorclaw said.

"I could tell there was some tension in your Bridge as I hailed your ship. I could feel it clearly, as if it had been words spoken through the video link. Had I known you were clueless about the salute, I would have warned you as soon as your ship dropped out of the Tachyon flow. Like I said before, I will accept whatever punishment you wish to dole out, in the name of your crew."

Darkthunder cocked his head, slightly curious despite the anger he felt resurging in his mind. "And why would you expect me to do that? If anyone is to blame, that fault lies with my navigator. I don't care for whatever 'traditions' your ship and mine may have had in the past. I'm the one who is now in charge of the Tarrakhan. I would never impose myself and tell you how to run your vessel. So if you even think that I will relinquish even a fraction of my authority to some rebellious, former criminal, then you are not only mistaken, but completely out of line!" Darkthunder stopped as he noticed the spikefrill eyeing him rather intently and displeased. "What is it?" he asked, rather miffed.

"I am wondering if I can trust my eyes. I see a terrorclaw right in front of me, but the words I'm hearing sound just like the late Prion's."

"What are you talking about? Prion never said or did anything that would come close to my own behavior."

"Don't raise that pedestal higher than it needs to be, Darkthunder. You only met one side of him, that of the patient instructor. Prion was not without his own faults, and your navigator can attest to that. And just like Prion did before, you need to cut Grell some slack."

"Granted, the Sergeant and I have our differences. I am trying to find the proper channels for -"

Kre'y'nak moved to place a hand on Darkthunder's left shoulder, holding tightly as he spoke. "Do yourself a favor, Darkthunder. Please step out of this uniform and stop being a soldier for a few minutes. You can even undress right here if you feel you can't dishonor these clothes. I will not be offended."

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary," Darkthunder said, slightly baffled. "I'm listening."

The spikefrill nodded. "While it is true that Commander Prion admired and respected the armorback for his combat and navigational skills, such was not always the case. Even if he never voiced it explicitly, Prion had just as much distrust for Grell as you do, and probably for some of the same reasons. As a saurian with deep respect for the law, Prion was unwilling to give a former gang member a chance to prove himself. He merely tolerated the armorback not because of Grell's excellent performance, but because it was Zaron who appointed Grell as navigator to the Tarrakhan. I was present the day the deathjaw gave Prion the news. I had never seen a plateback so riled like that day. Zaron and Prion may have been best friends, but the way they seemed ready to fight over the deathjaw's decision, you would think evolution had instantly gone back millions of years."

Darkthunder paused, surprised at the revelation. "And then what happened?"

"Surprisingly, nothing. You just don't give a General reasons to accuse you of insubordination, even if he is one of your best friends. Prion had to face the fact that Grell was dedicated to the Patrol as all good soldiers do. Anger turned to respect, and that eventually led to friendship. Have you given the armorback the same benefit?"

Darkthunder curled his lips. Even if the spikefrill meant well, he hated having his life and actions questioned. "How come you are privy to my relationship with my navigator?"

"There is only one thing that moves faster than light in this universe, Darkthunder, and that is gossip. All you need are a few annoyed crewmembers that may feel like venting their thoughts to anyone outside your ship willing to listen. By now, you can bet that even Zaron knows what is going on inside your ship."

"I will wait until the taller predators roar loudly enough before I concede my kill to them. And it still doesn't explain this so-called salute that Grell did earlier."

"I'm getting there. As part of his reconciliatory efforts, Prion invited Grell to one of the gatherings the Patrol gives to us ship Commanders. It was there where I finally met the armorback after Prion introduced him to me. Since it was an official Patrol gathering, we began with the usual Patrol-related talk and all that comes with it, before we moved into other subjects. And as it was bound to happen at these gatherings, Prion had maybe a drink or two too much. I'm embarrassed to admit, so did I. And Grell was not far behind, either.

"So the armorback begins bragging about his piloting skills, and told us that if he ever needed to, he could fly a ship at its closest point to within a hundred paces of a black hole's event horizon and not have a single atom fall in. Of course, he was exaggerating, but Prion replied that it must be true, for the _Tarrakhan_had never collapsed into his rather massive stomach. We all laughed, and in my half-drunken condition, I dared Grell to prove that he was such a skilled pilot. Of course, the next morning, I would not remember any of it, and neither did Prion. I'm sure you can guess where I'm going from here."

"Let me venture a guess," Darkthunder said rather matter-of-factly. "The next time your ship and Prion's met, Grell pulled the exact same stunt."

Kre'y'nak chuckled as he shook his head, as if embarrassed to recollect the thoughts of that particular day. "The fucking bastard remembered. He asked Prion for permission to deviate from standard protocol and perform a little maneuver to honor the Sstahil. Neither Prion nor I had any idea that Grell had run the scenario several times through a simulator until he had it calculated to the very last detail. If you thought it was scary, imagine how it was seen from the point of view of the Sstahil!"

Darkthunder tried hard not to smile. "I can imagine."

"So once everyone was coherent enough to speak - and after Prion threatened to have Grell's scaly ass thrown out of the Patrol - the final piece fell into place. Prion realized that if the armorback could pull that maneuver so effortlessly, then he could trust the navigator with keeping a cool mind if the whole ship ever needed to escape from danger. What started as a dare between drunken saurians has now become the customary way for the Tarrakhan to greet the Sstahil. Whenever our ships meet, we take our rookie crewmembers to the observatory deck, where they can have a good view. Of course, we never let them on what's going to happen."

"That's an interesting story, but I fail to see the logic behind this. Are you saying that, because of some reckless maneuver, I need to give Grell a chance?"

The spikefrill nodded. "It would probably help if you stop defining the Patrol by whatever code of law you apparently adhere to rather strongly. Look beyond your navigator's thick skin, his spikes and his past, Darkthunder. That armorback is not some callous ex-convict with a grudge against us. He may get extremely defensive and rude, but then he is an herbivore defending himself from a predator eager to rip his flesh. Below his threat display, he's only waiting for a chance where he can prove his loyalty."

"Isn't that our duty to every member of the Patrol?"

"Only in theory. You may find out that when the time really comes, pressure may cause some to forget it."

Darkthunder stood quiet for a few moments, trying to make sense of everything he had heard from the spikefrill. It was all a bit too much to consider at once. Any actions towards Grell would have to wait. He had one terrorclaw he needed to find. "Very well. You have been a commander far longer than I can hope to be, Kre'y'nak, so I will definitely keep your words in mind. But my terrorclaw nature is not something that I can change overnight."

"Nor would I expect you to do so. Of course, you are the first terrorclaw I've had the chance of meeting. But I'm sure you are tired of hearing that. And I believe I have been keeping you here far too long than you now wish to be."

Darkthunder stood at attention and crossed his right forearm between his chest and stomach, in salute to one of equal rank. "Safe journey to base, Kre'y'nak."

The spikefrill nodded as he extended an identical salute. "May your mission be safe, Darkthunder. Hopefully you will find what you seek."

"I do, too," the terrorclaw said as he walked out of the room and towards the two waiting soldiers.

- * - * -

Death from anxiety.

The groundthumper wondered whether it would be possible for his death certificate to list such an oddity as probable cause of death. That or the secondary effects from feeling his butt going numb and flat while lying naked, arms and legs held immobile by straps on a medical table, as he waited impatiently for the medic to speak. He shifted his body, the prolonged silence making him feel increasingly uneasy.

"Uhh... Ty-Grich... when can I -?"

"I am not finished yet." The fleetfoot did not lift his gaze from the instruments he was operating while he annotated some results on a medical tablet. He then moved quickly to check yet another set of screens, moving about with the same fluid motions that seemed to characterize all of his species.

"But how much time do you_really_ need? I don't want to wait until this tour of duty is over before -"

"I said, be quiet, please!" the shrilling voice said with an unambiguous tinge of annoyance. "Or do I need to wrap some bandages around your snout to staunch the hemorrhage of stupidity oozing out of your brain?"

"All right, all right. Don't get testy." Brakkus lowered his head, deciding that he definitely had no choice or say in the matter. He already had to put up with the humiliation of being the target of the fleetfoot's curt disposition ever since he returned to the sick bay.

None of it was unwarranted. To say that Ty-Grich had been extremely upset once he realized Brakkus' deception was a vast understatement. While the medic would never consider withholding all necessary treatments that the groundthumper's condition required, the fleetfoot was certainly under no obligation to feel cheerful about it. Even less when it meant having more work thrown suddenly into his lap - or whatever would pass for a lap for an archosaurian whose species had not moved much from their parent species' original shape.

Brakkus tried to pass the time by amusing himself as he thought all kinds of outrageous reasons as to why evolution had not advanced fleetfoots so that they could resemble the other sentient archosaurians. Eventually he concluded that Maia must have certainly been under the influence of strong hallucinogens when she laid the egg from which fleetfoots had hatched. It was the only plausible explanation for that species' apparently retarded evolution.

He chuckled at his own silly thoughts, only to stop cold as he noticed Ty-Grich's snout a mere footstep from his. The fleetfoot looked at him quite harshly, his eyes glistening as if the medic wished for the groundthumper to just drop dead right there and then.

Oh, fuck, Brakkus thought. Did this guy plant something inside my brain to read my thoughts? Oh, shit... Please tell me I wasn't talking aloud. Please, Maia, please! I promise not to make fun of You ever again!

"Well?" Brakkus asked, extremely uneasy. "Was I talking again?"

"No, you've been very quiet since I last asked. Thank you."

Brakkus sighed with relief. At least he was spared dying from embarrassment word spread out through the ship had the chief medical officer decided that he needed some nasty invasive procedures to better diagnose his condition. "What news do you have to tell me?"

Ty-Grich flipped his tablet so that Brakkus could look at the screen while the medic spoke. For a few seconds, his voice sounded like that of his normal, quiet self. "You will be pleased to know that I have seen even more improvement in your condition. You seem almost fit to return to duty."

"Almost? Not fully? Not certainly? Just... almost?"

"Yes, and that is where I intend to keep you for quite some time."

"How long?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh, come on, medic!" Brakkus brayed, supplicant. "Don't do this to me! Please! I haven't worn those braces on my legs for a couple days already! And you said that I did very well on all the physical and mental tests you gave me."

"And why should I have mercy on you?" Ty-Grich said, loud and with some contempt. "After what you pulled, I don't have any intentions of handing you back to the Commander unless I am absolutely positive your brain has healed completely. Right now, I am far less concerned if you fell dead in the middle of your duties than having a raving terrorclaw wishing he could spill my intestines on the deck for thinking you were fit to return to duty."

Brakkus sighed, and lowered his neck to rest on the table. "I thought you were supposed to care."

"When patients do the right things, yes. If the stupid ones want to kill themselves, then fine. Less work for me. It is Maia's law of survival, anyway - the fit live to reproduce, while the idiots find ways to remove themselves from the gene pool. Although that is sort of a moot point; a cock breath like you would swallow seed or take it up your tailhole rather than father more of their species."

"All right, fine. I hope I am making your day. Insult me as much as you wish. Or even let me die if that is what you'd prefer. At least have some mercy and make it quick."

The fleetfoot snorted. "That would assume I derive pleasure from death. I would be much less of a medic if I had not made an oath to save every life. I don't care if anyone's ancestors would have once thought about feeding on mine, or felt any prejudices towards my kind. We are all archosaurs, and we are supposed to work together for the benefit of our larger herd. Or flock, or pack, or whatever you wish to call it. I would even save a mammal, even if they had threatened to kill me hours earlier, if I had training on their physiology."

"Then why are you so curt to me?"

Ty-Grich put the tablet down forcefully, and let out a loud trill in what Brakkus thought was frustration. "I saved your life that day, Brakkus, when there were many others I could not. Some died even as I worked fervently so that they could at least return to have some semblance of life with their loved ones. I even had to make sure one trihorn didn't commit suicide in the brig because he was extremely despondent over the death of his partner. So how do you expect me to feel when someone I managed to save is so desperate, so fucking pea-brained that he belittles my efforts and is seemingly trying to injure himself because he was too impatient to heal properly?"

"Sorry for the trouble I caused, medic. But I -"

Ty-Grich screeched as he made a sudden, violent gesture to force Brakkus to shut up. "Please do not insult my ear holes ever again with your sorry apologies! Or else I will write a treatise about a new malady - I will call it mental diarrhea, and you will be in the spotlight as the biggest and sole case study for it!"

Brakkus was stunned by the medic's words. The fleetfoot never resorted to such offensive remarks, even when aggravated. That he was doing so now was most certainly indicative his anger and frustration were much higher than Brakkus had ever seen.

"Well, I also thought that... maybe there was a possibility that you misdiagnosed -"

The groundthumper realized the huge mistake he had just committed just as it was too late to take back the words he had just spoken. He winced as a pain coursed around his head as Ty-Grich pressed a sharp tipped claw against the bandages covering the head wound. The fleetfoot stormed away from the table, then turned to gesture wildly at the entire medical bay.

"Well, thank you for proving my medical expertise was misguided for once! What was I thinking! That brain of yours certainly was more damaged than my all-powerful expertise and training and knowledge of medicine and this vast array of medical instruments could have possibly determined was the right conclusion!"

The medic continued walking around in frustration before he turned and stopped right between Brakkus' spread legs. He stared firmly at the massive genitals as he spoke next. "Or maybe I examined the wrong head, and this is the one I should have consulted about your condition!"

Brakkus hoped the walls and noise dampers inside the medical bay did as good of a job keeping anyone outside from listening at the screaming medic just as they kept the Tachyon engines' rumble from disturbing the patients inside.

"All right, all right! I'm sorry I said that. I was also afraid I would be stuck with a desk job, who knows for how long. Or forever."

"Well, guess what, my dear groundthumper? With that stupid stunt you pulled, you have made that horrible fate even more probable than if you had just simply waited to heal properly."

Realizing he would never get a good word in edgewise, Brakkus laid his head and neck completely on the table as he turned to look away. There would be no convincing the fleetfoot at that time or any other. Military officers would command the Tarrakhan, but where medical matters were concerned, Ty-Grich's authority would supersede even the Archosaur General. He only needed to say the word, and that raving terrorclaw would descend onto the medical bay as if in pursuit of a fresh kill and get the groundthumper's sorry ass kicked out of the ship for being a liability to the whole crew.

"Very well. You'll get your wish. Go ahead, call the Commander. I guess I should be brave enough to realize that my days in the Patrol are over."

"I'm glad you realize that. But I'm trying to think of a good reason why I shouldn't let Darkthunder know about this."

Brakkus' neck shot upwards as fast as it could, before it recoiled from the sharp pain that ran through the length of it and onto his shoulders. "Oww! Sonofa--! What was that? Did I hear you right?"

"Give me one good reason why I should not."

"Maayybeee... because Darkthunder would be mad at you for making the wrong diagnosis and letting me return to active duty without being completely sure?" Brakkus bit his lower lip upon having those large fleetfoot eyes fix sternly on his own. "Let me guess. Stupid reason."

"That is absolutely nothing for me to be concerned. The Patrol may have some of the best medical instruments in the whole Archosaur Domains, but that does not mean they are infallible on every single occasion we use them. While it would be an extremely low possibility, given their precision and my knowledge, I could and do make mistake sometimes. But since you hid some important details from me, that detail absolves me completely of any fallout from the terrorclaw's fury."

"That's a rather nice way to say I'm the one who fucked up."

"You can say that, yes."

"How can I apologize to you?"

"You can't. So don't waste my time."

"So how about getting me back to work in some way, so I can be out of your skin?"

Ty-Grich frowned. "Getting you out of this ship would certainly give me a bit of peace of mind. So if you can't think of a good reason to stay, then I'm certainly not going to do so myself."

Brakkus groaned. Just as he thought he was getting a reprieve, the medic decides to pull the scalpel and stab him again. "Oh, for crying out loud! I thought you were seriously considering giving me a reprieve! Listen, Ty-Grich, I'm sorry I put you on this bind -"

"You didn't put me in any bind. I am simply doing the job I signed up to do for the Patrol."

"But can't you cut me even the tiniest slack?"

"I honestly shouldn't," the fleetfoot said, and snorted with some displeasure. "And I am possibly going against my better judgment here. I don't wish to be the one who snuffed an otherwise brilliant career, even if it was due to the soldier's own stupidity. So here's what I'll do. I'll place you on a partial discharge from the medical bay. I'll recommend to Darkthunder that he keeps you away from the Bridge, and send you somewhere within the Armory where your brain and body are free from stress and physical exertion until the day your whole body has healed and you can reenter combat. You're still required to report to me on schedule for all follow up treatments and diagnostics. And don't think of pitiful excuses to skip even one session, or I'll rescind my recommendations and have that ornery terrorclaw shove your ass out of this ship. Is that clear?"

Brakkus nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir!"

The medic waved the medical tablet only the tiniest fraction of space from Brakkus' eyes. "And the only reason for that is because I have better and more positive results than the last time I examined that empty skull of yours, and by your own admission that those sporadic flashes of pain seem to have receded completely. Although after what you pulled, your word certainly isn't worth dung at this point."

"Thanks. I guess."

"Don't thank me yet. My duties as a medic require me to inform Darkthunder about your stupid stunt. I've heard all sorts of stories about this ship's crew. If half of them have any inkling of truth, I'm sure your fuck buddy would welcome the chance to have the Commander find another poor sod to berate for a change."

"Um... now that you mentioned Grell... would I be able to... you know -"

The medic lifted his neck and head high as he let out a pitiful wail. "Sweet Mother, why did You send me through this Path?" Ty-Grich shook his head slightly as he muttered something to himself before turning to address Brakkus. "Honestly, why did you become a soldier? You would have been perfect for one of the whorehouses in Sethria Six. Lots of money to be made there by someone like you. And your head would have gotten hit by whitish, liquid bullets rather than laser beams."

"Grell said the same thing once."

"Well, he was right. Although he is partly to blame for your sexual addiction."

"He probably would resent that. You... would be surprised at what he says sometimes."

"A deathjaw can't change his teeth any more than either of you can stop fucking. I guess yes, you two can have some sex. I would recommend you limit it to mutual hand or oral stimulation for a while, however. I still don't recommend any strenuous activities coming from or into your body. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Brakkus sighed softly with relief at the possibility that his medical ordeal would be over. "I wonder how my buddy has managed so far."

"I'm sure he's done quite well. Most surely even found another way - or saurian - to vent his own sexual frustrations."

- * - * -

"Fifty-seven... Fifty-eight... Fifty-nine... Sixty!"

A deafening clank resonated through the training area as a set of heavy weights slammed on the floor. Hardly any of the few other saurians in the room moved a muscle to find the source of the noise; it was obvious that Grell had been using them.

The saurian paused to catch his breath, his back on the bench made to accommodate armorbacks. Grell felt his heart beating strongly from the exertion, and relishing the tingling sensation around his arms and chest muscles. While there were some machines that purportedly would give him the same benefits without the risks, he much preferred the feel of gravity pushing down real, heavy weights on his arms.

He paused, trying to imagine himself at that exact moment, but seen from any other archosaur's eyes. His chest pulsed from his deep, slow breathing, each inhalation only serving to accentuate his massive pectorals even more than usual through the tight, cropped shirt that covered only the top half of his chest, leaving the golden rings in his pierced nipples glisten under the bright lights that flooded the gymnasium. An equally skimpy thong hugged his massive genitals, their outline plainly visible to anyone who cared to look. His thick legs and strong arms, and that thick tail, all seemed to burst with the outlines of stout muscles. All put together, he was a perfect symbol of armorback virility. One that would have sent females of his species eager to have him impregnate them so that they would carry their eggs, beaming with pride that they had mated with such a strong bull.

More like bullshit, he thought. If anything, it only served to scare off the one thing that he really craved.

He wiped strong sweat beads that ran down his face and stung his eyes. He reached for a nearby towel to wipe the sweat from his face and neck. A rather perfunctory task; the rest of his body was drenched in it.

Grell sat slightly hunched over, still breathing slow and deep as he contemplated the irony that his life had become. He felt like a walking, breathing oxymoron. His massive body was built for defense and intimidation; "don't fuck with me" was its motto. Yet he wanted nothing more right then than for others to see him as a caring, tender lover.

He was a strong male. He was born from sturdy stock; a species made to live placid lives but armed with defenses that could send predators limping away with broken bones. The thought had once fueled his ego, and he had enjoyed the times he had actually put it into practice. Whether he fought deathjaw thugs from opposing gangs, or security guards intent on preventing him and his associates from stealing whatever they were after, it never mattered. If his clubbed tail broke some bones, it fulfilled his purpose in life. It was even better when he forced himself on some of his victims, further humiliating them as they begged for mercy while he fucked their tailholes raw, plunging hard and deep.

The thought now kept him awake at times. Even worse, word of his past was well known. He had built a reputation of being an obnoxious and angry, sex-starved bastard; something that he had not made the slightest effort to change. Fuck, he had even reveled on it. Like in his younger days, it worked to keep most potential trouble away. For those that saw it as an invitation for a challenge, it only provided a chance for his masculinity to flare up and his clubbed tail to talk for him. Those still foolish enough to continue the challenge usually ended up with bloody snouts, if lucky.

Now everything had come back to bite him in the tail, and hard. His place in the Archosaur Patrol was firmly entrenched just as everything else was going downhill. He wished for Maia to grant him the opportunity to atone completely for his past, even as he knew that the Ancient Mother cared not for what her offspring did. Her only mission was to give birth to all archosaurs, and She fulfilled it millions of years in the past.

He was completely alone in the vast expanse of the Archosaur Domains. It was enough to make his heart sink. He cared for Brakkus; perhaps even loved him, in a way. Yet the groundthumper could not mend the longing in Grell's heart. Grell wanted someone he could settle down and care for every day. He needed someone with enough discipline to stand up to his rebel side - someone who could mellow and mold the armorback into a better saurian.

Grell sighed at his own foolishness. The bridge towards a peaceful relationship with the terrorclaw had burned down a long time ago. Actually, it did not as much as burn but simply vaporize without leaving as much as a single speck of ash behind. He wondered how much effort and time he would need to rebuild it, if such a thing was even possible. Darkthunder had certainly shown some restrain when he returned from the Sstahil, not even as much voicing a hostile word as he had threatened to carry out. There was something else as well - it sounded like a half-hearted apology for his outburst. But the Commander was still his typical, difficult terrorclaw self. Those sickle-like claws would never stray far from the flesh of the virtual prey that their owner sought. Darkthunder sounded even more desperate to have the Tarrakhan depart in search of the drug runners.

It was even more frustrating because he knew Darkthunder had another side, one that the terrorclaw fervently tried to keep hidden. The terrorclaw was as much of the prey as he was a hunter. Something that Grell had found out rather unexpectedly.

There would be only one way that the armorback would really find out if he could rebuild the bridge, stronger than the original. Whatever the outcome, it would not happen if he just sat there.

He began to gather his belongings so he could head for the showers. Just as he relished the sensation that his strenuous bodybuilding routine put in his muscles, the delightful sensations of cool water flowing down his hot, scaly body was equally pleasant. Perhaps the old Kakkuttek was not so crazy after all when he extolled the wonders of his faith on his River Lord.

"You've been hitting the gym quite a lot lately, Grell," a voice shouted just as Grell was about to leave. Out of the corner of his right eye, Grell noticed as another saurian had moved to occupy another weight bench three places to his right. The armorback sighed softly, and continued to gather his things. Like he needed more pain heaped on top of how his muscles felt.

"I've been neglecting my physique for quite some time. I kept forgetting I needed this. Can't say the same for your voice, Sse'kasha."

"Is there any time when you would?" the plateback said as he began placing some weights on the bench. "I'm just trying to get some conversation going between us."

"Well, you certainly keep bringing the same brainless topics, even when I've made myself clear I am not interested in your crap."

The plateback grinned as he eyed Grell's entire body. "Damn. You have been sweating like mad here. I didn't think you could. At least, not while using a different set of muscles other than that you tend to favor. I guess the medic still hasn't cleared your lover for some fun."

"Keep at it and I'll sweat even more when I shove something up your ass."

"Even your threats sound rather subdued." Sse'kasha smiled as he lay down on the bench. "I heard you had yet another confrontation with the Commander in the Bridge. What's the matter? Did he finally get you by the balls?"

"I don't know what you may have heard," Grell said, trying to ignore the mockery, "but I do not fear the terrorclaw, or any other predator for that matter. I, however, have the utmost respect for the Commander's station, even if I disagree with his ways." He turned to look at the plateback, who had just begun his exercise routine. "I believe I made that quite clear to you in the mess hall some time ago."

Sse'kasha continued working with the weights. The armorback could not keep a feeling of superiority; the plateback wasn't even using a fifth of the weight Grell had just finished using.

"You know what I see from my side?" Sse'kasha asked. "Nothing. You are a saurian of mostly nothing but words and empty threats."

"Oh? You think so?"

"No, I believe so. You used to be a criminal. You took shit from no one. Well, that's what almost everyone else around this ship says. But now... you just come out as just a thug without anyone to yank your leash. You want the terrorclaw to lead you around, and all the time he would rather have you thrown out."

Grell snorted, thinking the mockery was not worth the consequences, even as the plateback continued.

"The eyes of the Patrol are on you. You need to watch which path you're walking, for you seem to move closer to the day when you'll get your ass kicked. Some think it probably would be the first half-decent thing that terrorclaw could do. If he doesn't get killed first."

Grell stopped. Other than his tail swinging slowly, his body stood completely still and tense. "Are you insinuating -"

"By the First Egg, no! I may be a True Saurian, but I have my limits. I would not wish ill on anyone, even the Commander. But look at what our feathered primitive has accomplished so quickly. This ship has single-handedly disrupted many of the drug runners' operations in several planets. You can bet those criminals are not happy about how Darkthunder keeps messing with them. It will be just a matter of time before the terrorclaw gets too confident and careless, and they're gonna skin him alive and deliver what's left back to us. Probably worse than what they did to Prion."

The armorback turned and walked silently towards the plateback's bench. Grabbing hold of the weights, he held onto them with only his right hand before he almost effortlessly pulled them up and away from the plateback's grip. "You know what you need? An assistant to make sure you don't get hurt using these."

Sse'kasha was about to say some words, but never got the chance to. The next instant the plateback screamed in pain as he found himself lying with his belly on the bench, his arms bent back and over his plates as Grell twisted and held on tightly to both with just one hand.

"So you say I have empty threats, uh?" Grell said as he grinned maliciously.

The plateback roared and squirmed as he tried futilely to get loose. Every movement only brought more pain as his arms scrapped against his own plates. "All right! All right! You've made your point, you fucker! Now let me go!"

"What did you just called me?" Grell said calmly as he twisted Sse'kasha's arm even further. "A fucker?"

"Aaahhkkk!!! Let me go, you asshole!"

"No. I am the fucker, and you are the asshole I will have."

"Grell! What the fuck are you doing!?" Sse'kasha struggled even harder to break free, but again to no avail. The plateback let out a barrage of obscenities and insults as Grell pulled his shorts down, then began to run a finger down his tail and between the butt cheeks.

"How about I take you in the ass right now? In front of these fine people in the gym, even!"

"You are bluffing! No way you would rape -"

Sse'kasha gasped in horror as Grell began to rub his hard cock under his tail and across his buttocks...

"A True Saurian like you, who has fucked only females. You must have such a nice, virgin ass, don't you?" Grell growled with delight. "What a pleasure it will be to be the first one to rip open this tailhole. It's got to be so deliciously tight."

"Help! Please! Somebody!!!" The plateback struggled even harder as desperation crept into his voice. Grell felt the terror in his as the few spectators didn't seem interested in giving a hand. If anything, the room started to get emptier by the second.

"What a shame," Grell said mockingly. "I guess nobody will witness how I began to turn a True Saurian from being an asshole into a bitch that kept begging for more."

"Don't do it!! Please, Grell!! I beg you! Please!!!" Sse'kasha screamed. Tears began to flow down his face as the tip of Grell's massive cock press against his puckered, virgin tailhole.

Suddenly, the plateback screamed again as he found himself flying through the air as Grell lifted him from the bench and effortlessly heaved him away. He landed a short distance away, demolishing a wooden towel rack as the plateback crashed onto it, sending both cloth and wood flying in all directions.

Grell snorted and walked towards where the plateback had landed. "On second thought, I'm not sure if I'm that fucking desperate to get my cock covered in your _True Saurian_shit."

The plateback moaned, unable to move as the pain coursed through his body. Grell noticed blood trickling down one of Sse'kasha's dorsal plates, and it was not long before Sse'kasha screamed as he felt the trickle of the warm fluid running down his back. "Fuck... one of my dorsal plates is cracked! You'll pay for this, Grell! I'll have you rot in jail for the rest of your life! There were witnesses here, and I will find them!"

"You pathetic wimp," Grell said as he inspected the affected plate, and realized it was nothing that would not heal on its own in a couple days. He squatted in front of the plateback, making sure Sse'kasha had a clear view of the armorback's genitals, still sporting a massive hard on. "Do you think anyone here cares if a wretched loser like you gets raped? Nobody even blinked as they all walked out."

"I will make them testify! Whatever it may take! You are in deep shit already!"

"Stop farting with your mouth. You'll sing a different tune when I tell Darkthunder what I know about your schemes. And from what you said a minute ago, it sounded as if you were threatening to have our Commander killed."

Sse'kasha tried to crawl away from the armorback. "I said nothing! I know nothing, and I have nothing to do with anything! And even if I did, it would be words from your tainted reputation against what your actions have done now."

"Hardly a problem if I invoke a Patrol Oath of Truth."

Sse'kasha gritted his teeth. His breathing turned frantic as he stared at Grell. "You... wouldn't... dare."

"You still think I am full of empty threats? Or do you want to find out what I am capable of?" Grell waited for the plateback to answer, but the latter only lied on the floor, staring back at the armorback through hate-filled eyes. "Where's your mockery now? Are you now afraid that they will lock the two of us together? That would be nice, indeed. Then I would really take you as my new bitch. Your ass would hurt for a while, but then you would get used to it. Who knows - you could even end up liking it. That is, if your mind doesn't break completely and simply doesn't care whether I fuck you in the rear, or make you suck my shit-stained cock after having used your ass."

Grell grinned. He began to stroke his powerful erection just inches away from the cowering plateback's snout. "So what do you say if you just get it over with and I get a head start? It would be better if I rape your ass now than let you fear every hour in anticipation."

The plateback roared with anger. "I would... rather... die."

Grell frowned, and pressed a finger against the plateback's right temple. "Then consider placing a gun here and pull the trigger. Or if you're not such a coward and want to stay alive, then abandon the ship at the nearest available port. Because if I ever find out that you were really planning to have the Commander killed, there will be no place in the Domains where your ass will be safe. And I will make sure I get the pleasure of raping it for real."

Sse'kasha's eyes narrowed. "No, Grell," he said, spitting out his words from rage. "It will be your ass who will be busted. I will make sure of it."

"Whatever. You know where you can find me in this ship."

Rising to stand fully on his feet, Grell turned to walk away from the beaten up plateback. He ignored the insults and other noises coming from him. Grell did not even stop to think whether he had just placed himself in even deeper waters. At that point, he simply couldn't care anymore.

TO BE CONTINUED

© Kaa Bakensobek