Lotee escorted Tajlon to a different area of the ship than before. He stopped in front of a doorway. "Be careful of the Admiral, Tajlon. He's been drinking again."

"Drinking?"

"Yes, a habit he chooses to indulge in despite the consequences," Lotee said.

"A weakness then?"

"I wouldn't call it that," Lotee said. "Chose your words carefully, Tajlon."

Tajlon entered what appeared to be Bethon's private quarters. One entire wall was decorated with space scapes that must have been collected over a long period of time judging by the sheer numbers of them. The Admiral was alone. He cut an imposing figure, wearing a full battle dress uniform of dark navy blue with a laser weapon holstered on his belt.. The outline of hard chiseled muscles showed beneath the sleek cut of his clothing.

"Come in, be seated," Bethon said, pointing Tajlon toward a chair by a small table holding a half empty bottle of spirits and two glasses. "Care for a drink?

"Yes. Thank you," Tajlon said taking his seat.

Bethon watched him, analyzing everything about Tajlon, who moved with the natural grace of a lean athletic body honed to perfection on the Sora Seas. Bethon poured them each a drink, passed one to Tajlon, and took a sip from his glass, savoring it with slow deliberation.

Tajlon felt Bethon's gaze penetrating deeper into his core, reading his file codes. Tajlon tasted his own drink. It was warm and slightly spiced, seductively good.

"You seem to have a problem with authority," Bethon said with no further pretense of polite conversation.

"Sir?"

"Admit it. You do."

"I have a problem with poor leadership, irrational thinking, lack of foresight, injustice and disproportionate punishments. I defer to authority when it's deserving."

Bethon leaned back in his chair studying Tajlon a moment longer before letting out a subdued chuckle.

"Such a creative protest. You and your crew are an entertaining diversion to say the least."

"My crew?"

"Oh, let's not pretend. You're obviously their leader. I suspect you're gratified, now that your father is out of the picture."

"If you're implying that I had anything to do with my father's demise I'm truly offended, Admiral. I mourn his death as do the others. He was a great man."

"Oh, but he's not dead, is he? At least, so says that psycho with you."

"She's an empath, not a psycho. It seems you are the one lacking in basic respect and manners."

"Respect? You think I owe you creatures respect?"

"Only that due any sentient life form. If we have no value, then why put Widhbo on trial for stepping on a few bacteria?

"You dare to judge me?" Bethon said. His face, already flushed with drink, grew darker with his indignation.

"I can't ignore what I see."

Bethon leaned forward, his steely fingers clasping Tajlon's forearm. "What you see is only a tiny fraction of all that I am. The Admiral Bethon you experience is simply an interface. I am a Voldarkan and was more advanced on the day I was born than any human in their prime. My education began as an embryo. My first meal was my first kill. My childhood pets were the sort of predators that made your ancestors cower in fear. I am being considerate of your limitations and would caution you not to jump to conclusions."

"My apologies, Admiral," Tajlon said, recoiling. "What are your plans for Widhbo? His punishment?"

Tajlon’s mind was racing ahead. Not only was he caught in the magiton’s powerful grip, he realized they were all trapped, They lived at Bethon's mercy and could just as easily die at his whim. Bethon finally released his arm and Tajlon fell back in his chair. Beads of cold sweat dotted his forehead.

"I'm not going to punish Widhbo, no matter his transgressions in our dimensional plane," Bethon said taking a more amiable tone. "To the contrary. It's an honor to be his host. It isn't every day we contact a being from another dimension. I plan to introduce him at the next sector convention."

"So if you believe his story, why the charade?" Tajlon asked.

"Widhbo needs us even more than you do. I will teach him our advanced technology in exchange for a few years of service. He came here quite by accident and doesn't know how to return to his own dimension safely. I would help him with that, but we haven't quite figured out how to do it ourselves. I'm certain in time the combined intellect of the magitons in this galaxy will be able to perfect cross dimensional travel."

"You haven't answered my question. Why the trial and confinement?"

Bethon stretched his muscles, drawing his sinuous body taut, then relaxing into his chair again. He poured himself another drink and topped off the glass Tajlon was holding.

"To teach him who's in charge for starters. He's a little on the wild side in case you haven't noticed. I can't have him running all over this ship, disrupting the order of things, making his own decisions. Once I've tamed him, he'll have more freedom... as will you all."

Tajlon put down his drink and pushed it slightly away from him. The gesture sent its intended message.

"Tell me, Tajlon, why were you seeking a habitable planet in the star system you refer to as Dezba?"

"To re-establish a physical existence someday since our planet has been effectively destroyed."

Bethon laughed again, louder this time. "I thought as much. How ironic. You no sooner discover the path to immortality before seeking to become mortal again?"

"We consider mortality to be the price of truly being alive."

"You speak with such certainty, but don't even have the ability to become organic without my help."

Tajlon eyed the drink. It tantalized him and it was all he could do to resist. Bethon was enticing him, daring him to take it like a cunning predator moving in on its prey.

"Our world is very much alive. We've been around for thousands of years. I control this entire sector of the galaxy. Imagine that for a moment."

"It sounds a little boring. What do you do for entertainment?" Tajlon asked. He was still resisting the overwhelming desire to drink from the beguiling glass.

"We have our wars as you so aptly noted. You should know that everything Lotee hears comes straight to me."

Bethon smiled briefly toying with his glass as he watched Tajlon struggle under his mental influence.

"There's the usual governmental concerns and alliances to uphold. Our technology has surpassed anything you can imagine. Widhbo's teleportation tricks are child's play. We have mastered cold fusion, tunneling, gravity drives, and quantum entanglement. Despite all we have discovered from hundreds of civilizations and eons of time, there's still much we have yet to conquer. Unfortunately, we find more duplication than originality."

He leaned in closer to Tajlon causing the hairs on his neck to prickle with fear. "I’ll admit this artificial existence can grow a bit stale. Every once in a while, we run across a little entertainment that crawls out of the mud on some forgotten planet."

"Like us?"

"Like you, but rarely so exotic or captivating. Your digital files are unique. Widhbo told us all about your father's experiments, the chips in your brain. He believes, and I agree with him on this point, the chips are what allowed the ship to take over both your father and the leopard, Nova. It's the common factor. It is also why he felt the need to isolate you outside of the ship."

Bethon tossed down the rest of his drink and gave Tajlon a prurient glance. "Your mind has preserved all of your memories of mortal existence in pristine form."

"All we want is to be on our way," Tajlon said, pointedly ignoring Bethon’s comments.

"The planet you seek isn't quite ripe for settling."

"We'll deal with it."

"No, you don't understand. It would please me for you to remember that I control this sector. You don't have my permission to go there. We're still amusing ourselves with them at this stage."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We've adopted the planet. At the present time we're embedding superstitions through miracles and disasters. Eventually we will cultivate them to our tastes."

"For what purpose? "

"We plant humans on suitable planets, tend to the mortals like a garden, cull the weeds and harvest only the finest."

"And if they don't want to be harvested?"

"I would never force anyone to do anything. I'm very generous to my devoted subjects. It's a choice. Immortality or a natural death."

"But you choose to interfere with their lives and natural evolution."

Bethon poured himself another drink, emptying the bottle.

"I prefer to think of it as a science and an art. We have contests between us to see who can grow the most loyal subjects, the most attentive, the most pleasing." Bethon said. He got up from his seat. He didn't seem impaired or intoxicated at all. He came around to Tajlon's chair and perched on the edge of the table.

"That doesn't sound very ethical, indulging your whims upon lower life forms," Tajlon remarked. He could tell Bethon was moving in for the kill.

"Lower life forms don't do well with autonomy. The humans in the Dezba star system have scarcely harnessed fire. They're crude animals who can barely communicate with one another. They won't know the meaning of ethics until we've taught them. It takes a few hundred years before they can be properly toyed with. I suppose I could be convinced to drop you and your friends off there, but I would have to strip you of all advanced knowledge and civilization first. Such a waste."

"Beldora managed well enough without your kind,” Tajlon countered.

"Did it really now? Who do you suppose drafted your Holy Book of Serra Luma?"

"How do I know you're not making this up from our aggregate memory files?"

"Anakron, founder of Serra Luma, is an old acquaintance of mine."

"I’ve never heard of him."

"Well, it's no wonder growing up with savages in the islands as you did. It's a pity your father isn't here. I'm sure he could fill you in."

"I don't want to discuss my father or my home planet with you any further." Tajlon had never considered there might have been another alien interference on Beldora long before Widhbo landed there.

Bethon leaned down and fixed his gaze on Tajlon, invading his mind again. "You could use some tutoring, but your memories are prime. Fresh and appealing."

Tajlon could feel Bethon reaching even deeper into his psyche, probing his personal memories, emotions, and physical experiences. He had learned a little about blocking telepathic signals from Widhbo and tried to keep Bethon out of his head. "That's rather intrusive if you don't mind."

"Hmm. You object to being known yet have very little to hide. You're very pure my young Tajlon."

"Still, it's somewhat demeaning. But you would know that."

"It's not my intention to cause you discomfort. I'm merely exercising my sovereignty. Once you adopt the proper attitude, it won't be a problem for you."

"Meaning I should get used to it." Tajlon stood up and backed away from Bethon. He didn't know what a Voldarkan was or from what sort of beast Bethon had originated. He fought to control the panic growing in the pit of his stomach.

"The wiser mortals dwell in a continuous state of cooperation and humble worship. It's the proper relationship to those who rule over them as divinity. They're no match for us. They can never hide anything from us. The best they can do is reveal, obey and submit voluntarily. If we are sufficiently pleased, we grant our guidance, protection and even immortality for a chosen few."

"It must irritate you to know we found it without your blessing," Tajlon said circling the table. He wanted to run from the room, but there would be no place to hide from Bethon.

"But you haven't quite made it permanent, have you? Your ship is lost. You have no resources at all." Bethon reached out for his drink and pushed Tajlon's glass toward him. "I've discerned that you're intelligent enough to understand me. I'm being far more considerate than your demon."

Tajlon was expecting to feel the luring sensation again, but there was none.

"Surrender is sweetest when given freely," Bethon said, draining his own glass one last time.

Tajlon paused to consider his options and the fate of his companions. If this is what it took to save them, so be it. He took the glass and deliberately drank it all. The effect was staggering. The liquor washed over his body in warm waves of intoxicating pleasure. His body grew heavy.

Tajlon felt his last fibers of resistance fall away, even as he saw the change in Bethon's eyes. They turned a dark orange, streaked with black, and vertical slits appeared where the pupils had been.

“What are your terms, Admiral?"

"Now we're getting somewhere."