Marley was glad the vehicle he was in with Notalap was topless. He would never understand how such a flowery dresser could smell so bad. The air speeder they were in was a beautiful machine. It was pearl white that showed hints of gold when the light hit it just right, the outside was smooth like the whole thing was molded from one piece of metal. The seats were a red, butter soft leather that was cushier than any couch that Marley had ever sat on. The dashboard, though the height of technology, was set in a dark red wood grain inlay that Marley found absolutely gorgeous. When he climbed in the back seat, Marley found he had more than enough room for his long legs, the only problem was, despite how much room he had in the spacious vehicle, he was still close enough to smell the repugnant overseer.
Insite of himself, Marley did not allow his disgust with his host to preclude him from at least half listening as the blob of a man went on about the output and production of the different crops that grew in the vast farmlands. Marley's eyes were on the slaves working the fields as they flew overhead. He found it fascinating they seemed to move in unison. Whether they were picking, pruning, or planting, they worked with a rhythm like they were all dancing to the same song. It was mesmerizing. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by his host.
"What do you think young man?" Notalap asked, thinking Marley wasn't paying attention.
"I think it's beautiful, but why not use bots?"
"Bots are expensive and require maintenance." The rotund overseer laughed heartily. "We just have to make sure the slaves are fed and housed. Besides..." Notalap got a far-away look in his eyes. "We tried that when we first got here. We cleared a field and used bots to seed some Rednasi produce to see how well it would grow here. It was the damnedest thing, when we came back the next morning all the seeds were laying on the ground next to where they were planted. We thought it was some kind of malfunction with the bots, so we reset them and had them plant the seeds deeper. Wouldn't you know the same shit happened. It was like the ground just spit them out. Well of course that shits impossible, so we blamed the slaves. It had to be sabotage right? Only there was no evidence the seeds had been dug up or anything." Notalap shook his head like he still could not believe what happened. "We gathered up the slaves and raged and threatened them to reveal the saboteur, but they clearly had no idea what was happening. They were just as surprised as we were! While we were all standing there slack-jawed and confused, this old white-haired lady made her way to the front of the crowd of slaves and simply said 'Azaacar rejects you.' Then she walked over, picked up a single seed and stuck it in the ground with her finger. Now, I have never been religious or superstitious, I barely believe what I see with my own eyes, but I swear to you when we came back the next morning that single seed had already sprouted."
Marley's eyes went wide, he could not believe what he was hearing. "You can't be serious!" he exclaimed.
Notalap shook his head solemnly. "It wasn't just here. We tried to use bots in the mines too. They could barely touch the mountain before tunnels would collapse and huge rocks would crush them into dust. We couldn't blame the slaves for that one. Again, it was one of the old ones that stepped up and said the same thing: 'Azaacar rejects you'. He picked up a pickaxe, of all things, and was able to dig deeper within a few minutes than we had in a week with those blasted bots. All things considered; it looks like the planet itself doesn't want us here. Between you and me, we would have left then if it were up to me. Your mother refused to give the planet up. Truth is, we need the slaves more than they need us. If it weren't for them, I'm afraid the planet itself would have gotten rid of us a long time ago."
"You talk like you believe the planet is sentient." Marley said thoughtfully
Notalap grunted. "How else do you explain it?"
Marley stayed silent. He looked back out over the fields and was startled to see a white-haired woman looking right at him.
Notalap grunted again. "That's what makes what your brother did especially foolish."
"What?" Marley snapped back around "What did Greyson do?"
"Yesterday, in order to 'quell an uprising' he leveled an entire city, killed everyone living there."
"No... that's insane" Marley said breathlessly horrified. He looked back out to the fields; the woman was still staring at him.
"ABSOLUTELY INSANE!" LaStirk screamed, incensed. "I sent you to quiet a rebellion, and you decided to level the WHOLE CITY?! Have you completely lost your mind?"
It was the evening after the assault when the queen summoned her son after reading the mission report. She was far from happy. Her normally serine face was twisted in rage, and red as a ripe apple. Instead of her usual casual attire, she had donned her command armor. She now stood towering over her son, screaming as he knelt before her on one knee, head bowed. Lastirk turned her back on Greyson for just a moment. When she turned back around, she lifted her leg and jammed the heel of her chrome stiletto boot right between his eyes. She leaned down closer to his face and spoke in a low menacing tone. "If you had been anyone but my son, I would put this heel through your useless skull." she kicked her foot forward hard causing Greyson to fall backward on his butt. She spun, turning her back on him causing her cape to flair behind her as she strode to her throne. She sat crossing her legs and leaning on her left hand looking totally exasperated. "Well, go ahead, explain yourself."
Greyson climbed back to his feet, dusted himself off, and straightened his uniform. Seething from the treatment he was receiving; he composed his face and lifted his head high. "Mother" he began contemptuously "Intelligence reports confirmed that the rebels had taken the city and murdered the envoy we sent to parlay with them. I felt they needed to be made an example for future slaves thinking of rebelling."
LaStirk looked bored. "Did you make contact with the Rednasi still in the city?"
Grayson stammered. "No... I assumed they had been killed."
"Oh, they were. They were killed when the building they were in collapsed in on them. That was after they made a distress call saying the city was being attacked by OUR OWN FORCES!"
"I... I didn't think..."
"NO GREYSON you didn't think! You didn't THINK about checking for hostages, you didn't THINK about checking for survivors, you didn't THINK about preserving resources, you didn't THINK about the dwindling number of working age slaves, you didn't THINK at all SON. Now I'm thinking that giving you the military was a shit idea. I thought having you learn under my top generals would teach you to think like one, but OBVIOUSLY NOT. That city held our research and development department. They were working on improvements to our starship engines, weapons, and many other things that would have greatly helped us in expanding to the rest of this solar system and beyond. Not only did you kill all our researchers, but you destroyed all their research as well. You have no idea how far you have set us back, because you don't THINK past your own machinations."
Greyson stood there, stunned to silence. LaStirk sat fuming. They stared at each other for several long uncomfortable moments. Finally, Lastirk spoke again in a much less irritated tone. "That being said, your tactic was flawless, and you didn't lose a single soldier. Had this been an actual enemy city, you would have received a commendation for such ruthless efficiency. But, this was MY city you leveled, so instead I am reassigning you. The research facilities you destroyed were aimed at increasing the efficacy of our expansion to the rest of the system, with them gone, we will have to resort to doing things the old-fashioned way." a sinister grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "You and your cabal will be my new strike team. You will travel ahead of the invasion force, take out the targets I give you, and get out. Clear?"
Greyson bowed low so his mother could not see the smile that spread across his face. It's true he wanted the glory and visibility of being a large force commander, but this was better in his mind. Greyson was a soldier, a fighter at heart. The thought of bathing in the blood of his enemies delighted him to no end. If this was his lot, he almost didn't care if he never took the throne. Almost.