Lord Braxus Declares

An Iron Age Media Prompt - “The Shuttle”

Braxus stands at the rear window of his office, staring out into the blank void. He appreciates the quiet of both space and the ship itself. His office doors hiss open as his assistant enters.

"They're ready for you, my lord" he says.

"Finally" Braxus responds with an irritated sigh.

He hates bureaucrats as much as he hates, well just about everything and everyone else come to think of it.

As Braxus enters the room, a group of Galactic Community counselors sit before him around a circular table. None of them stand up upon his entrance, he notices, but this insolence and disrespect will not be here for long.

"We are at the brink of war and my army stands ready but wars are expensive and we need more soldiers, weapons, and-" Braxus begins.

"With all due respect, General Braxus-" interrupts Counselor Urson.

"Lord Braxus" he corrects immediately.

"This council does not recognize that title nor is it befitting of your current position. The sheer cost of these will requests, spending Galactic Community money need I remind you, will-" Counselor Urson begins to reply.

His speech is cut short by a blast from Braxus's palm gauntlet which cuts a clean hole through Urson’s Falaknian skull.

"Counselor Urson was under the misapprehension that this is a negotiation or that I was asking for those funds. I suspect he was alone in that suspicion. Am I correct?" Braxus asks, his tone deadly calm and firm.

No one at the council dares move, several are subconsciously holding their breath, praying to the Galactic Overseer that they could be anywhere in the universe at this very moment.

"Excellent. A peaceful galaxy will soon be borne into reality due to the Galactic Community's actions here today" Braxus states before he prompts leaves the room.

I didn't plan on killing Counselor Urson, he thinks. Well, not him specifically, it seemed quite likely that someone at the council had to die to both prove a point and as part of his tests. A cowering weakling though he may be, the Falaknians were not all such pushovers. Perhaps a poor strategic move but his priorities and plans are much bigger than mere Falaksis. He considers it a triumph of resolve and restraint that he did not kill the entire lot of them. The galaxy would be better for it. For now, they were a necessary evil. Once they had served their purpose, they along with the many other archaic practices would become ancient history.

The meeting itself was a test and the counselors all, unsurprisingly, failed miserably. To meet him in person on his warship just to reject him reflects poor critical thinking. Seeing someone in person just to state a simple and short message like it's the 23rd century or something? Ridiculous.

The second test they, well those still alive, all passed, which was less surprising. Even morons have some survival instinct and the common sense to not try to debate someone who just killed a colleague of theirs. There is no place for someone impulsive to the point of stupidity in his army much less as an ally and an informant. As he walks back to his office, he wonders whether anyone will pass the third test.

Anyone with at least one brain would be able to tell while leaving that meeting as a counselor that their only chance at any kind of power or longevity would know that they would need to switch sides and be his personal counselor spy. The problem with working with spies is that they can never truly be trusted, so quick to betray their comrades, why not him? Braxus considers this for a moment. He would simply keep the spy at arm’s length, dispose of them once they no longer served a purpose, and prepare a few contingencies in the event they tried to escape somehow. A small smirk appeared on his typically emotionless or angry face, supposing that the risk of using spies is half of the fun and what keeps power struggles and other such efforts interesting and exciting. Robots can take orders. Organics are the only ones capable of true cunning and ingenuity. He considers himself no exception. A few clever and unconventional moves he made when he was a young lieutenant in the Praxnian army had secured him a promotion to captain and, more importantly, the ear and attention of some powerful individuals. That taste and view of power is perhaps what fuels him to this day.

As the doors to his office open, he senses he is not alone. He spins around and aims his right hand gauntlet at the back left corner of his office. A fifty-fifty chance as far as he could tell. Unfortunately, he immediately realizes that the individual in his office is in the back right corner instead.

“Lord Braxus, I was wondering if I could have a few words with you.” says the Tryflium Counselor calmly.

“How did you get in here?” Braxus asks, his tone even. He is genuinely curious and though he would never admit it, mildly impressed.

“With all due respect, my lord. The Galactic Community army does not have access to all the Tryflium combat or espionage technology” he replies.

Not wanting to continue to be at a conversational disadvantage, pestering with curious questions like a child, Braxus gestures for the counselor to continue. He notices that the counselor seems noticeably taller than he did earlier in the meeting. Another technological trick so others underestimate him, perhaps? Braxus decides that it matters little at this moment but it does imply a potential level of strategy and tradecraft that could prove most useful.

“After the meeting we just had, I can see the writing on the wall for the council as a whole. I would like to offer my services as an information liaison in exchange for safety and reasonable compensation, of course” he continues.

“An interesting proposal. What is it that you truly desire? Money, power, respect?” Braxus responds.

“Despite all the universe’s technological advances, we all have but one life to live. I want to live the best life that I can” he states matter-of-factly.

“Do you plan to lounge around your entire life under my leadership and protection?” Braxus demands, a hint of anger beginning to seep into his tone.

“I am more than willing to put in the time and effort to achieve the life I want to live” the counselor says without hesitation.

“And what of the consequences?” Braxus asks.

“It is my personal philosophy that as long as everyone seeks to live their own best life, however that may look, the consequences are of little importance” the counselor replies.

An overly simplistic and flawed philosophy, Braxus muses. He wonders if this was the counselor’s true feelings or simply a convenient line that made him appear useful. He quickly realizes that regardless of which scenario was true, both mean that the counselor is the perfect fit for the position.

“Let’s get to work” Lord Braxus declares.