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‘You first, your Majesty.’ His voice resonating with scorn, Commander Sshaarp watched his warriors roughly shove King Garet and his whole entourage into the Throne Room of the citadel. ‘No! Stop this! What are you doing?’ The King struggled in vain to free himself from his restraints. ‘What we should have done a long time ago,’ Sshaarp declared. ‘What will be again.’ With a single-minded purpose, Sshaarp strode quickly to the throne and sat down. He took a breath of satisfaction as he glanced all around the room, then glared down at the King with undisguised hatred. ‘You’re in no position to issue orders anymore, your Majesty. You - all of you - are now under the rule of the Martian Empire,’ he hissed. ‘Never!’ King Garet answered vehemently, every cell in his body resisting the outrage. He glared defiantly at the green Martian warrior sitting on his throne. ‘We will never submit.’ ‘Is that so?’ Sshaarp’s eyes were hidden behind his helmet, but King Garet knew he was being looked at mockingly. ‘You will submit, and you will do it right now. It seems you must learn a little lesson in obedience. Kneel before me, your Highness,’ he ordered. King Garet did not move. After everything that Peladon had suffered because of the Martians, to submit, to fall to his knees before this invader would mean betraying every one of his subjects who had died. The King spoke out venomously. ‘I will not obey!’ ‘No!’ The King turned at the sound of the fierce loyalty in old Verzlish; his long-time trusted personal aide. ‘This is the King of Peladon, how dare you…’ ‘How dare I?’ Sshaarp hissed in a sinister tone. Sshaarp gave a curt nod to one of his soldiers. As King Garet and the others looked on in horror, a Martian warrior aimed his weapon at Verzlish’s heart. The air seemed to fluctuate around the old man, distorted by the blast from the Martian’s sonic weapon. The old man crumbled to the floor. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Sshaarp peered at the King once more. ‘I’m waiting, your Majesty. Unless, of course, you want to see another of your subjects eliminated?’ Without another word, the King called upon every ounce of his self-control and, fighting his loathing, very slowly dropped to his knees before Sshaarp. How can I do anything else? I am the King of Peladon; I alone am responsible for the lives of all of my people. And what about my family? If this will save them from death, then I have no other choice. I have already seen far too many good people die at the hands of the Martians. Behind the King his remaining aides gasped in fear at the sight of their proud king in submission before Sshaarp. ‘A wise decision.’ Sshaarp stared back at the King intently, enjoying his humiliation. ‘I wouldn’t want to have to kill you. Not yet, anyway. We might have a use for you.’ ‘What do you want with Peladon? There’s no trisilicate left, your Empire has taken it all.’ King Garet’s voice was empty and defeated. Sshaarp’s reply was immediate and forceful. ‘Peladon belongs to us; we never should have given it up. We are simply reclaiming what is ours by right.’ He motioned with his claw to the lead warrior. ‘Enough of this discussion. Take them away, now.’ The scattered remains of Vlaash’s ship continued to float in the vacuum, drawing ever nearer to the gravitational pull of Saturn’s orbit. As if coming out to watch, a large ship looking like a scarab beetle emerged from behind Pan, one of Saturn’s various satellites. It was the “Sou’thor’gx” - Commander Xzalnyr’s own warship.
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