To Be Sirth
Sirth Talgan considered that fact as he tossed the screaming form of his apprentice into the wall of their training chamber. The young man had come highly recommended, but in their first meeting Talgan had seen the child's weakness – many considered mercy “in vogue” thanks to the current senate administration, but as Sirth to an entire generation of military commanders, he knew better. Mercy and justice would come and go as buzzwords to entice a newer, gentler sub-set of the species, but would just as quickly be replaced by what truly worked – pain and compliance.
“Yield!” Talgan bellowed, stepping forward as Al'zith struggled to rise. The boy was hale and hearty enough – he simply lacked the instincts that would make him a true commander. Some techniques could be taught, others could be beaten into students with the right application of force, but certain qualities were necessary for Talgan to even begin his work. Al'zith had come to him hopeful and wide-eyed, a seeker of change and one of the fools who believed the garbage the current High Chancellor was spewing. It had taken three training sessions for the young idiot to become thoroughly disenchanted with the notion of ever rising to the rank of Sirth. Unfortunately, such realization was not enough to remove him from the program, and now it fell to Talgan to ensure that the boy learned his lessons so well that he ran, tail between legs, never to return.
There was a hissing grunt from the corner of the room as Al'zith rose, eyes blazing but hands at his sides. “I will not fight you, teacher – but I will not yield!”
“Then die!” Talgan screamed, hand moving quickly to the tech-band at his wrist. Three keystrokes brought up what he wanted – a spewing jet of flame that reached across the intervening space to tear at Al'zith's uniform. Though the stiff black jacket and pants melted away, the young man held his ground. His kind were known for their ability to endure heat, but Talgan assumed the boy would jump out of the way when he saw bright blue fire tearing toward him. Killing Al'zith was out of the question – even Talgan would be brought before the Board for such action, but he had to convince his apprentice to move on, to seek another path. The Dominion was not what it used to be, but he would not have men such as Al'zith in charge of those who would fight on its behalf. They needed strong leadership and a firm hand – not cloying compassion and the hope of mercy. Failure was to be met with reprisal, as it had always been.
“You know you can't really do that, Talgan.” Al'zith's voice came through the fire, and Talgan keyed in the shutoff command. “And I know you can't. Killing me won't solve your problems – it will just make them worse – and I'm not about to drop out of the program.” He paused. “What are we going to do about it?”
For a moment, Talgan considered obliterating the cocky fool in front of him. His tech-band was capable of it, even with Al'zith's enhanced fire resistance. Two poison darts and the red-skinned Devran would be on the ground, giving Talgan the opportunity to reduce him to ash with a well-placed iso-charge. It would send shockwaves into the entire training building and mean the end of an illustrious career, but it might just be worth it.
Thoughts of his mate stayed his hand. The only female he had ever met who could match his sheer ferocity, Illsa would kill him with her bare hands if she discovered he had in any way endangered the security or position of their family. He had a great deal of respect for her, and not a small amount of fear – the perfect relationship, as far as he was concerned.
“Very well,” Talgan said, dropping his arm. “I have no solution to this problem, and you are the one determined to stay. What do you suggest?”
“Why do you think I'm unfit for command?” Al'zith countered with a question of his own.
Talgan frowned; how could the fool not know? “You lack the strength of will, apprentice, the single-minded focus required to lead your men. The Dominion will not stand by and watch a commander who will not discipline his troops, who allows failures to go unpunished. You must be feared!”
“What if I was loved, instead? What if the men under my command respected me, and performed their duties to have that respect reciprocated?”
A laugh bubbled up out of Talgan before he could stop it. He'd heard such nonsense before, but fortunately none of those who spoke of it had been given the chance to try it in the field – entire platoons could be lost.
“I wouldn't laugh so much, Talgan,” Al'zith said quietly, “I won't quit, and you won't kill me – what if the Board was to hear about such leniency?”
“You would dare?” Talgan was suddenly furious.
“Of course! You have established the rules of our relationship, dear teacher. I am merely following your lead.”
“Fine.” He bit off the word. “What do you want?”
“Our next lesson was to be what?” Al'zith asked. “A trip to one of the outer worlds and a demonstration of your 'leadership' to a troop there? One that would almost certainly involve a number of object lessons?”
Talgan nodded. It was his favorite part of the program.
“Very well. We will continue with that plan, though I will be the one in charge when we arrive. I know you do not support what I want to do, but you will watch me do it. I suspect that even you may learn a few things.”
He had no choice but to agree, and did so with a suitable amount of contrition and reluctance. An idea was growing, however – the outer worlds were dangerous places, and a number of messy “accidents” were common in any troop. Perhaps Al'zith would learn the true meaning of power after all.
- D
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