The funds were rolling in for all rehabilitation facillities within Garrison
and Alliance territories. The funds were also rolling in very quietly for
Zarkon through the speaking engagements that he was being asked to do. He
accepted humbly and at each speaking engagement he was slowly mesmerizing the
audience with his tale of darkness. He would end all his engagements with a
plea for prayer for his fallen son, that he would survive and that he would embrace
the light just as he had. Wealthy and pominent people thronged around him
afterwards, saying that he could make a career out of public speaking, but Zarkon
would say that he wanted to remain a humble servant of the people - a slave
to his new and benevolent masters - the great and merciful Alliance.
This only endeared him more to all.
The cramped desk was a long way from the sumptueous tables of his castle.
Those tables had held mountains of food upon it.
His desk was piled up with
hard copy reports and his CompuPad was sitting on top of his outbox
precariously. A carton of left-over take out food was under all that
somewhere.
His chair was standard Garrison issue - very ergonomic, and adequately
cushioned but nothing like the guilded throne he had sat upon. From his
throne he had seen people grovel for their lives and slave women dance. From
his standard issue desk chair he would see people grovel for one petty thing
after another and women dance in their tottering high heels which had
inexplicably come back into fashion.
He did well. He worked hard. He came in early and stayed late for after all,
he lived in the facility itself. His room was small and bare, his habits were
simple. Zarkon knew his every move was watched, but he did not mind. He never
gave them reason to suspect anything and he would not. It would be hard but
he had climbed from nothing before and he would do it again.
He leaned back to ease the ache in his back. Damn chairs..Ergonomics be
damned! Even his lowest slave sat in better than this. He got up and
stretched, feeling his bones crack. Ugh. What a way to live. He grimaced at
the thought of sitting in that chair again.
It was then he saw Amalgamus rolling silently in his direction. Ah, good. He
was on time. That's what he liked about sentinent robots - very punctual. He
watched Amalgamus roll to one of the outer offices and roll in. Zarkon took a
pile of hardcopy and went to the office. He rang the chime and of course
Amalgamus let him inside.
Amalgamus went down to business, informing him of Lotor's condition and of
the surgery that he would require.
"Do you happen to know who will be operating on him?" Zarkon asked.
Amalgamus scanned his data. "That information is not available, Sire Zarkon,
but he is at the finest surgical facility in the Alliance."
"That is good to know.." Zarkon smiled.
He was kept abreast of his son's
condition quite closely. He was going to live but he wouldn't be the same.
Perhaps now he would be more obedient to him. From what he was told, his
son's physique would be vastly altered, for his injuries had been so severe.
A part of him felt a twinge of guilt over what had happened his son, but the
other half rationalized that as usual he had screwed up and he would have to
pay the price. It would take some time, but if Lotor accepted everything,
then he would give him another chance. After all he was still his son.
Amalgamus spoke, interupting his thoughts.
"Zarkon, I seem to have a bit of a glitch in my neral net. Could you check my
diagnostic register? I cannot seem to access complete data."
"Of course.." Zarkon smiled and proceeded to do what he always did when he
and Amalgamus met.
He made a few little repairs.
"Is he prepped for surgery?" Dr. S'vantes, chief surgeon asked.
He was in the sonic scrub up and the surgeon that was to assist him, Dr.
Laren was finishing up his scrub up proceedures.
"Yes, he is, but look, Davin."
"Joe, I don't want to talk about this anymore. The Drule and the Alliance
taxpayers are going to be well served by this surgery. It is the least
expensive way to save what remains of him."
"Is it? There is tissue regeneration. Not to mention being able to take his
healthy skin cells and using those. You also forget the advantages of
replicating tissues and bones."
Davin scowled as he came out of the scrub up, atired in his cleanware.
"I have NOT forgotten, Joe. This is NOT just some patient here but the
monster of the galaxy. He is damn lucky he's even alive right now. I will do
the best I can to put him back together using the finest biotic technology
available."
"Bullshit! Everyone knows that biotics is at LEAST fifty years behind what is
being done now. We're not even using it in the prisons anymore. And I've seen
that - that thing you're planing to put in place of his arm. Where the hell
did you get that thing - from Garrison surplus? What the hell is your
problem? We're supposed to SAVE lives, no matter who they are or what they've
done."
"I'm not killing the man am I? No. You really don't have any say in this,
DOCTOR Laren. I suggest you put your personal grievances away and attend to
business."
"Personal grievances? PERSONAL grievances?" Joe raised his brows. "I think
you're the one with the personal grievance, Davin. Ever since Gina died in
that attack two years ago, you've turned bitter and rightfully so. But you're
using your bitteness against the patients and the staff. Gina wouldn't have -
"
He was cut off by Davin who angrily said, "You didn't KNOW Gina and she was
two months pregnant when the fleet attacked! It was HIS guards that raped and
killed her. HIS fleet that attacked. Believe me, I am being more than
generous with the Drule. He will live and that's more than Gina or our baby
ever got."
"That's it. I am going to have this stopped right now.." Joe headed for the
door.
"No you're not. I am chief surgeon here. I have seniority and tenure." Davin
said with a chilling look.
"And I can and will report you to the hospital board AND the Alliance
council. I will not allow this."
"Joe.."
Joe turned at the pleading tone of voice from his friend. Maybe he
reconsidered. Maybe he changed his mind after all.
"Uhhhh!" Joe fell to the floor as the laser bolt hit him. Davin stood over
his friend sorrowfully.
"Joe..sorry I had to do that, but I can't have you telling them before the
surgery, now can I? It won't matter afterwards - I'll be with my Gina then.."
Davin secured his friend with strong surgical tape and left him in one of the
closets. To insure Joe's silence for awhile longer, he shot a dose of
Celldane - a sleep drug into him and left, leaving things to look as normal
as possible.
He had some vengance to do.