Chapter One

 

Tarl looked up as the cell door opened to reveal two scruffy men armed with lasers. He rose to his feet, helping Tassin up. The three Olgaran girls cowered in the corner, whimpering. He estimated that at least twelve hours had passed since the slavers had kidnapped them from Omega Five, but in the constant lighting the only ways to measure time were fatigue, thirst and hunger. If he was right, it meant they were, in all likelihood, a long way from home. Even that was not a certainty, however, since he had no idea if the ship had entered one or more photon corridors or how long it had spent in them.

"Come on, out," the taller slaver said.

Tarl put an arm around Tassin's shoulders as they exited the cell, and the girls followed, trying to hide behind them. One guard walked away along the corridor, the second man waved his weapon at them. "Follow him."

"Where are we going?" Tassin demanded.

"To be sold."

"You can't, I am a queen, I -"

"Shut it."

Tarl tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Don't antagonise them. Remember what I said."

The Queen raised her chin and glared at the back of the man in front of them, and Tarl hoped she would continue to heed his advice. They squeezed into the lift and travelled down, then stepped out onto a docking port entry, which stood open. A dark corridor yawned beyond the ship's bright doorway, its dull metal walls pimpled with rivets. Tassin shook off Tarl's arm and marched along it, her head high.

The repair tech leant closer to murmur, "This is either a space station, or a bigger ship."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because we're docked with it, and the ship we came in isn't capable of landing."

"So what does it mean?"

Tarl shrugged. "Just that there's no escape here."

A murmur of deep voices grew louder as they walked along the dim corridor that weak lights illuminated at irregular intervals. The new surroundings were more in keeping with a smugglers' environment, unlike the smart new ship they had arrived in, and the two guards looked right at home. They passed other unkempt men, who greeted the guards in a strange dialect Tarl did not understand. At the end of the corridor, they entered an immense chamber lined with catwalks against dull, pitted metal walls, the floor crowded with a motley collection of people, mostly men.

Some were well dressed; others sported an overabundance of jewellery, but the majority looked like more smugglers and slavers. On a platform at one end of the room, a fat man stood behind a plinth, holding a gavel. Beyond him, three women waited with bowed heads. Tangled, matted hair covered their faces and torn clothes hung on them. The fat man called out numbers, and shouts came from the crowd over the background murmur as bidders made their offers. Tassin wrinkled her nose at the musky stench of unwashed bodies, casting Tarl a haughty look that made him wonder what was going on in her head.

Their guards herded them past the crowd to a clearing beside the platform. The fat man banged his gavel and the women were led away. One of the slavers dragged the three Olgaran girls onto the stage, and the fat man demanded bids from the crowd. Tassin waited with folded arms, tapping her foot as if impatient to be sold. The Olgaran girls, younger and prettier than the last trio of women, were sold quickly and led off. A guard turned to Tassin and jerked his weapon at the platform. She shot him a scathing look and ascended the steps, but when Tarl tried to follow, the other slaver blocked his path, shaking his head.

"Only her."

Tassin stopped and turned. "He comes with me, or I don't go."

"You'll go, whether you want to or not."

"No one will want to buy a shouting, fighting woman. He stays with me. He's my servant."

The second guard went over and muttered to the first, who shrugged and jerked his laser at Tarl. "Go."

Tarl followed the Queen onto the platform, marvelling that her regal authority even swayed slavers into letting her have her way. Tassin walked around the stage and glared at the crowd, scanning it. The auctioneer opened his mouth and drew a breath, but she raised an imperious hand.

"Wait." She turned to address the throng. "Only a man of noble blood may bid for me. If a common man buys me, he will perish at my hand."

The crowd laughed, and some men called raucous insults or snide comments. Tassin studied the assembly, becoming intent on a man at the back. She pointed at him.

"You may bid." Her gaze wandered on and settled upon another individual. "And you."

Tarl groaned and shook his head, admiring her courage while he wondered what the outcome of it would be. The auctioneer gaped at her as she selected two more men, then nodded to him.

"Pray continue, my good man."

The fat man bowed with a mocking smile. "Thank you, Your Highness."

Tassin clasped her hands before her and raised her head to gaze at the crowd as the auctioneer demanded bids. Several common looking men raised their hands, and she glared at them. One of the men she had chosen made a bid, and she cast him a slight smile and gave a regal nod. Tarl wanted to laugh, yet it was working. Less and less of the scruffy men bid for her, and two of the men she had chosen entered into a bidding war.

At last the auctioneer banged his gavel, and Tassin was ushered from the platform as two dirty, bruised men were led onto it. The slavers took Tassin and Tarl to a chamber off the auction room, where they waited for several minutes, while their new owner to paid for them, he guessed. Tassin fidgeted, revealing how ragged her nerves really were, and he resisted the urge to comfort her, since it would spoil her regal air. The slavers who guarded them left when a tall man in rich, but understated clothes arrived to take charge of them. Tassin turned to him, and he bowed.

"Baron Ashmond, at your service."

She held out her hand, palm down. "Queen Tassin Alrade of Arlin, Omega Five."

He smiled, took her hand and kissed the back of it. "An honour indeed, Majesty. How did a queen come to fall into such foul company, may I ask?"

"I was tricked, My Lord."

His eyes slid over her. "I am glad you came to no harm."

"Even commoners find themselves respectful in the company of royalty, willing or no."

"You certainly appear to be well bred, Majesty, though your attire is a little... plain. However, you have a knack for spotting noble blood, it would seem. You selected myself, Duke Jerom, Prince Ferlar, Lord Varan and Count Edriss, the only noblemen out there. Uncanny."

"To one raised amongst noble blood, it is natural to be able to spot aristocrats. A prince would have pleased me more, however."

"And I am just a humble baron, alas."

She inclined her head. "Nevertheless, you will suffice, Baron Ashmond. At least you are a nobleman, unlike those filthy boors."

"Indeed, and I paid a handsome price for you, My Lady."

"Which will be reimbursed as soon as you return me to Omega Five, I assure you; plus a reward and your costs to transport me there, naturally."

Tarl listened with growing amazement, wondering if Tassin's bold tactic was actually going to work.

The baron shook his head. "Alas, My Lady, it is not I who purchased you. I am but a proxy."

"Then to whom must I speak in this regard?"

"Emperor Endrovar."

Her brows rose. "Indeed. Then take me to him at once, My Lord. I am impatient to return to my kingdom."

"First I must enquire as to the reason for your plain attire, Queen Tassin."

She glanced down at her riding habit. "I was out riding when I was abducted, My Lord. I do not indulge in horse riding in a court dress, nor bedeck myself with jewels."

"Of course." The baron gestured to the door. "Shall we? Emperor Endrovar will be eager to meet you."

"And I him."

Tassin headed for the door, and Tarl hurried ahead to open it for her with a bow, to enhance her claim of being royalty. The baron eyed him with a smile, followed the Queen and guided her with soft-spoken directions as they traversed several dim, shoddy passageways and passed through two fair-sized rooms, one of which appeared to be a foyer and the other a terminus. Tarl opened the doors for Tassin, and she swept through them with her head held high, causing men to step from her path in surprise. They arrived at a docking port and passed through it into a ship’s plush corridor carpeted in burgundy and hung with gossamer skeins of pale crimson silk.

Ashmond showed them into a spacious room with carved, old-fashioned furniture, deep burgundy carpets and a surfeit of dainty porcelain brick-a-brack on numerous glass shelves and in several glass-fronted cabinets. Coats of arms adorned the cream walls, and Tarl glanced around with interest. By some lucky twist of fate, they had come across one of the rare space-faring societies that clung to a monarchical hierarchy. Several well-groomed ladies in ornate court gowns watched them pass, sipping tea from porcelain cups, their cheeks rouged and their hair piled in powdered pompadours. A group of equally powdered and bewigged men in britches and slit-sleeved jackets over ruffled silk shirts sipped glasses of amber liquid he assumed was sherry or something similar. His heart sank when he spotted the man who could only be the emperor sprawled on a vast golden throne with burgundy cushions, two near-naked girls feeding him bite-sized fruit.

Endrovar overflowed his cream britches, royal blue smoking jacket and white silk shirt, his enormous gut almost reaching his knees. Gold tassels, buttons and medals ornamented his outfit, and gold chains and bracelets were almost hidden by bulging flesh. His broad, pugnacious face clearly had no trace of royal blood. A broken nose and cauliflower ear told of past violence of the pugilistic sort. Two cybers stood behind the throne, clad in smart burgundy and gold uniforms. They were about Sabre's age, and Tassin stopped and stared at them, clearly disconcerted. Recovering, she swept up to the throne and inclined her head to the obese emperor, who eyed her.

Tarl bowed low, making himself inconspicuous. Endrovar chewed a fruit, spat a pip onto the floor, and belched.

"So, Ashmond, what did you buy me today? This looks like a fine little strumpet, but she has a bad attitude by the looks of it."

The baron bowed. "The best of a bad lot, Your Grace; she claims to be a queen."

Endrovar guffawed. "Does she indeed? How..." He frowned, searching for the right word, then snapped his fingers. "Presumptuous!"

"Indeed, Your Grace."

Tassin cast Ashmond a frown and muttered, "This is a man of low blood, Baron. Is this a jest?"

"Ah, well, Emperor Endrovar was not born into royalty, but lays claim to his title by dint of his vast wealth."

"That much is obvious. Did he purchase his title, or make it up?"

"A bit of both." Ashmond smiled. "And I'm afraid he has too much money to be tempted by your offer of a reward for your return."

Tassin smiled and addressed the massive man. "You must be a clever man indeed, Your Grace, to amass such great wealth."

Endrovar beamed. "Ah, I like her already, Ashmond. Indeed, little lady, I am very clever. I was once a fighter, believe it or not. A good one, too. I won many bouts, and then my luck got even better. My fortune is thanks to these little guys here." He gestured to the cybers. "You see, I was almost past my prime when I stumbled across one in a smuggler's den."

Tarl sensed all the people in the room sag with boredom, including Ashmond, and gathered that this tale was one Endrovar told far too often.

"On my home world, and several others in my quadrant, cybers were unknown," Endrovar went on, warming to his tale. "I had some money saved, and, after seeing a demonstration, I bought one. I made a cunning disguise to hide the head band, and entered him in fights with normal men. Do you know anything about cyber-bio combat units?"

Tassin inclined her head. "I am familiar with them, Your Grace."

"Ah, good. Well then, you can imagine how well I did, with prize money and bets. I was raking in the dough hand over fist. My little guy was unbeatable, yet so small that all the big guys wanted a piece of him. I won every fight, no one could beat him. Of course, neither of these is him; he was retired and returned a few years ago. But I still make an occasional fortune when someone is stupid enough to challenge my fighters."

"A cunning plan indeed, Your Grace. You are to be commended for such astute thinking," Tassin murmured.

"Aren't I, though? I only wish I had discovered them sooner. Ah well, soon enough, I suppose." His brown eyes raked her. "Well, you are a pretty little thing. Ashmond, get her some nice clothes, then she'll have dinner with us."

Ashmond bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace."

Tassin preceded him to a side door at his gesture, and Tarl went ahead to open it for her. They entered a smaller room furnished with a garish gold and green lounge suite, a gaudy purple and green bedroom visible through a door in the far wall.

Tassin turned to the baron. "You did not convey my offer to him."

"He won't accept it, My Lady. Whether or not you're a real queen, as you claim, he's more interested in you than he is in more money."

She frowned. "He is an uneducated lout."

"He owns planets."

"What does he want with me?"

Ashmond cast her a puzzled look. "He likes pretty girls, what else?"

"Surely he has a surfeit of them?"

"He gets bored easily. He'll sell you in a few weeks, never fear."

"I am betrothed, My Lord."

The baron smiled. "Alas, you do not have a choice. He owns you."

"I will purchase my freedom."

"You're not for sale, at any price."

"I can offer... a service, other than that which he wants of me."

Ashmond tilted his head. "And what might that be?"

Tassin cast Tarl a pleading look. "My servant. He is a cyber tech; he will care for Endrovar’s cybers in return for my... being left alone."

Ashmond turned to study Tarl, who straightened from his subservient pose and nodded. The baron looked undecided, then shrugged. "I'll tell him, but I can't predict what he'll decide. You may buy yourself some time, but ultimately he owns you both, so your man will do as he's told or pay the price. Endrovar will be pleased to own a cyber tech, though. Of course, your man will have to prove his worth."

"He will. But if Endrovar lays a hand on me, he will die rather than serve him."

Tarl's brows rose as he opened his mouth and raised a finger, then thought better of it and subsided. Ashmond smiled and gestured to the room.

"Take your ease, My Lady. There's a bathroom through there, and the wardrobes are full of gowns. Endrovar will expect you to look your best for dinner, which is in two hours. We've left the station and are heading for Hades Eleven, where he has fights lined up tomorrow."

She inclined her head. "Thank you, Baron."

Ashmond left, and Tassin turned to Tarl, her expression contrite. "I'm sorry, Tarl, I didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay, you did the right thing. You actually did great. You pulled our butts out of the fire, I think. At least here we have a chance of being well treated. If one of those smugglers had bought us, or you, things would have gone badly."

"Obviously I don't expect you to die rather than let me... be abused, but he might believe it."

"If I don't keep you safe, Sabre will kill me anyway."

"No he won't, and you know it." She sank down on a couch. "God, those cybers look just like him. I was shocked when I saw them."

"Yeah, well, they're clones." Tarl sat on the sofa opposite. "I wonder how many he has."

She grimaced, rubbing her face. "He is vile."

"Yep, he's a lowlife, and no mistake. That's what happens to a man who beefs himself up for strength, then lets himself go to pot. Not a pleasant prospect."

"Will it happen to Sabre?"

Tarl glanced up. "God, no. He's genetically engineered to remain super fit, even if he never exercises and spends his life eating. His metabolism will just speed up to burn off the extra... Agh, well, don't worry about it, it's not going to happen to Sabre."

"Not that I would..."

"I know."

"We have to find a way to get a message out."

He nodded. "I may have a better chance than we had hoped for, if I'm allowed access to areas with hi-tech equipment. We'll have to be careful around the cybers, though. They know when we're lying, remember."

"I know." She stood up. "I'd better get ready for dinner."

 

****

 

The control unit's warning light jerked Sabre awake, and he sat up in the soft king-sized bed to scan the dim bedroom. All seemed peaceful and quiet. According to the cyber, he had been asleep for six hours. He rubbed his eyes, rose and dressed, then padded through to the lounge, wondering what had sparked the cyber's warning.

The ship's husky voice said, "Translocation in one minute."

Sabre left the suite at a run, heading for the bridge along a velvet-floor black corridor with a glowing ceiling. Fairen stood in the centre of the gigantic black room whose hellish ambience was due, in part, to the swathes of backlighted floor to ceiling crimson curtains that hung at even intervals around its walls. The young Overlord gazed out of one of the four huge circular screens, a frown furrowing his brow, and turned when Sabre ran in. The cyber slowed to a walk to approach him, aware of the dozen soldiers stationed around the walls, each armed with a lethal poison dart gun.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"An Overlord has been attacked at Permon Seven."

"Attacked by whom?"

Fairen rubbed his tousled hair. "It sounds like another Corsair station, and it's Ramadaus who's been attacked. He's in trouble. I have to help him."

"Of course you do."

Commander Shrain stepped out of the shadows. "My Lord, the Thaytan ships are too close to us. Our translocation will damage them."

Fairen swung around. "Why are they so close?"

"Apparently they found the Scorpion Ship's continued presence interesting, and many yachts and tourist vessels have approached us."

"Delay translocation and send a pulse."

Sabre wondered why there were no distant booms or groans, then remembered that the ship had gone into translocation configuration right after the battle, but had not left, because Fairen had gone to sleep. He glanced up at the screens, where a plethora of silver ships hung in space around them. If the Scorpion Ship had been going into translocation configuration, doubtless its changing aspect would have warned them, and they would have moved away, but now they lingered, driven by curiosity. Shrain tapped his com-link, and a green glow ran over Scorpio's skin. A shimmer swept out in a wave, causing the silver ships to roll and veer, rocked by the fiery shockwave. Flames sprouted from their tails and sides as they turned away from the Scorpion Ship, retreating.

Shrain frowned at his com-link. "They will be at a safe distance in fifteen seconds... all except one, which appears to have engine failure."

"The fools! I have no wish to harm them. Get rid of it, Shrain."

"Yes, My Lord."

A filament of green light snaked from one of the main arms, latched on to the crippled ship and thrust it away to a safe distance, then winked out.

"All safe," Shrain muttered.

"Translocate. And send a message to the Thaytan high commander, that if Thaytan ships approach an Overlord vessel so close again, they will be destroyed. They must not delay an Overlord with their presence."

"Yes, My Lord." He tapped the com-link. "Translocation in ten seconds."

Sabre braced himself, imagining what the Thaytan observers would see as the Scorpion Ship translocated. It would become incandescent for a moment, like a star, then simply vanish, leaving a fairly powerful gravity shockwave. What the ship did, in effect, was generate a spacial distortion that caused a wormhole to form, folded space and punched a hole through it, which it then side-slipped through. The stasis field clamped down, immobilising him with its smothering embrace for several seconds, indicating that this was another long jump. The pressing force released him, and he staggered, raising his head to look up at the screens. A yellow planet hung in space, silvered by a blue giant's light, a huge dark moon orbiting it.

The silver and gold Moth Ship was off the port bow, and Sabre stared at it in surprise. Its giant filigree wings were spread like a glinting net, and blue fire streamed from their leading edges, bathing a sparkling lattice orb with a tiny silver core. There was a second battle station behind the Moth Ship, whose rear laser cannons sent burning light flashing through it, but neither orb was damaged. Dull grey ships with glittering silver cobweb wings fired bolts of yellow fire at the battle stations, and several boxy Corsairs attacked the defenders.

Clearly Ramadaus had been summoned here just as the Corsairs' attack had summoned Fairen to Thayta Three, and with the same intent. In this instance, the Overlord had become the target, and the residents of Permon Seven strived to save him from the battle stations. Most of the Corsair ships fled when the Scorpion Ship appeared, some of the defenders chasing after them. One of the stations fired a net of vermilion plasma, which the green web around Ramadaus' ship shredded, but remnants got through, scoring glowing wounds in the Moth Ship's glinting hull.

Fairen's nostrils flared. "Scorpio, battle mode."

Shrain cast him a martyred look and lowered the com-link as he stepped back into the shadows. It seemed that as soon as Fairen spoke directly to the ship, Shrain became superfluous. An aide approached Fairen and whispered to him, and the boy cast Sabre an irritated glance, then held out a hand to the aide, who gave him a veiled hood. Fairen donned it and nodded to the aide, who beckoned to the guards by the door. Kole and the two techs entered and bowed to Fairen, who ignored them. Distant booms and groans echoed through the ship as it went into attack mode, the vast main arms spreading.

Kole approached Sabre, Estrelle and Martis following. "What's going on?"

Sabre explained, and the trio stared at the Moth Ship as the battle station behind it fired, hitting one of Overlord ship’s wings. The delicate silver and gold web buckled, and Fairen swore.

"That fool is a mule."

"Why doesn't he leave?" Sabre asked.

Fairen glanced back at him. "Like I said, he's a mule. He'll stay and fight."

"But he can't harm them."

"Ramadaus will never back down, even if it kills him."

Kole leant closer to Sabre. "Doesn't he have plasma guns?"

"No."

"So how does he blow up planets?"

Fairen turned. "He has particle disintegrators. He doesn't blow them up, he turns them into clouds of dust, but a particle disintegrator is useless against something as small as those orbs. My main gun is also too powerful to use safely against them, but it works."

"And how," Kole muttered.

"Kindly be quiet." Fairen turned back to the screens.

Faint vibrations ran through the floor as the Red Death's main arms spread and the tail gun curled over its back. One of the orbs turned towards them, flames sprouting from its edges. The battle station behind the Moth Ship fired again, and the Overlord ship became radiant, then winked out of existence, reappearing on the far side of the orb. Double gravity shockwaves rippled from its exit and re-entry points, rocking the Corsair stations. The one that turned to face Scorpio aligned its arms, preparing to fire.

"Main gun, ready," Scorpio said. "Targeting; preparing to fire."

A blue beam shot from above the bridge, hit the central sphere and made it shed beams of light. A moment later, the crimson plasma bolt followed. It ate through the filigree orb and struck the tiny sphere, which disintegrated into a cloud of debris. Scorpio turned to face the second battle station, which also turned towards her, ignoring the lasers of the Moth Ship beyond it.

Fairen cursed. "He's in the way."

"He'll move," Sabre said.

The beam of blue light targeted the second orb, making the sphere blaze. The plasma bolt shot from above them, spreading into a net of super-heated particles. It struck the battle station, flashing through the web of silver struts to the sphere, which exploded. Remnants of the plasma passed through it and flew towards the Moth Ship, which vanished in a flash, reappearing closer to Scorpio.

"Enemy destroyed," the ship said.

"Exit battle mode."

Once more the dull booms and clangs reverberated through the ship, and Shrain stepped from the shadows to say, "Overlord Ramadaus requests contact."

Fairen nodded. "Allow him." He turned to Kole and the two techs. "Leave us. Sabre, stay."

Guards showed the trio out, and Fairen stepped onto one of the seven pale circles on the floor. A minute later, a shaft of golden radiance illuminated the circle beside it.

Ramadaus appeared within it and turned to face his peer. "Greetings, Fairen."

"And to you, Ramadaus."

"A timely intervention."

"So it would seem. Foolish of you to stay, when you couldn't harm them."

Ramadaus shrugged. "You have my gratitude. Why the veils?"

The young Overlord removed his hood. "I had company. I have sent them away."

Ramadaus glanced at Sabre, his sallow, cadaverous face stiffening. "You still have company."

"He's seen you before."

"Unfortunately. Why is he here?"

Fairen tilted his head. "Could he not merely be visiting? He is, after all, my friend."

"Perhaps. Is he?"

"I think you know why he's here."

The older Overlord shook his head. "Not really."

"No, you don't. But you should. Why did you give Myon Two a bracelet to study?"

Ramadaus hesitated, then smiled. "Very clever. I told you I would not stand for him to live free, that's why I gave them one."

"And by doing so, endangered every friend we have, including your own."

"They have no reason to harm my friends."

"And yet, now that they know how to open a bracelet, what's to stop them, or some over-ambitious Cybercorp tech, from selling that knowledge to our enemies?"

Ramadaus frowned. "The fear of reprisals."

"But I didn't know Sabre had been abducted, because they left the bracelet on Omega Five. How will you know, if your enemies do the same to one of your friends now? They could have been abducted and killed already, and you won't know about it. Or they could be kidnapped and held to ransom, and you won't be able to find them and save them."

"No one would dare."

"Not while they wore a bracelet, no, because they could summon us to their aid, but now... your friends are in danger too, and every friend of every Overlord. The others will be angry."

"Myon Two won't betray us."

"Of course they will,” Fairen said. “But I'm on my way there now, to exact some vengeance and justice for my friend's abduction. This you brought on them, by giving them a bracelet."

"He wasn't supposed to escape."

"And yet, he did. So the universe keeps the balance. Now there will be consequences. And I warn you, if Sabre dies, so will one of your friends, perhaps both."

"They weren't going to kill him," Ramadaus said.

"No, they were going damage his brain, so they could burn him for sport, or demonstrations. Some such barbarism. Whatever happens to him in the future will happen to one of your friends, like for like. You betrayed me, now you know what happens if you do it again."

Ramadaus scowled, but inclined his head. "The orbs?"

"Corsair battle stations. Perhaps there are more. Only those of us with plasma particle cannons can destroy them. I'll warn the others."

"This matter is resolved."

At Fairen’s nod, Ramadaus stepped out of the light, vanishing, and the columns of brilliance faded. In the screens, the Moth Ship had transformed to its dormant state, the huge wings folded into a sleek wedge-shaped vessel. Fairen sighed, rubbed his brow and went into his private lounge. Sabre watched the Moth Ship disappear in a coruscating shimmer of white light, sending out a rippling photon and gravity shockwave, then followed.

The boy sat on one of the soft white couches, and glanced up at Sabre’s entry, looking tired.

Sabre settled opposite and poured a glass of fruit juice from the decanter on the low coffee table between the sofas. "Will that stop him?"

"Probably not. He'll just make sure no blame can be assigned to him, then threaten to kill any future friend I might have if I kill or cripple his. When you take on an Overlord, you must expect a grim battle of wills, even if you're an Overlord yourself. The only way I can ensure your safety is if you stay with me."

"I'm sorry it's causing you so much... strife."

"It's not your fault that he's such a stubborn, selfish bastard."

Sabre leant back. "This has been quite a day. Is it always this busy?"

"Yes, pretty much. Sometimes I have a few quiet days, but not often. There are about fifteen million stars in this galaxy, with ten planets each, on average, and one per cent of them are inhabited. That's a lot of people for just seven Overlords to oversee."

"Why don't you build more ships and have more Overlords?"

"It's not a shortage of ships; it's a shortage of Overlords. Of the seven, currently only two have apprentices, and that's nowhere near enough. Empaths are rare, and finding them is hard."

"You have people searching?"

Fairen nodded. "All the time. Too often we find them when they're too old. They must be children, or at least young adults."

Sabre consulted the control unit's clock. "We still have an hour to make it to Myon Two before the enforcers."

"Yes." Fairen raised his head and addressed the air. "Translocate to Myon Two."

"You're not too tired?"

"If I don't do this now, something else will come up. I'm fine." Fairen poured himself a drink, this one a rich, lumpy brew, which looked like a meal in a glass.

"Translocating in one minute," Scorpio said, and the dull booms and distant groans echoed through the ship once more.