If it itches, it will be scratched.
Jamyl Sarum was tired of listening to General Mako.
It had been her hope that she could leverage this man’s hatred of his own kind, manipulating it into some type of surprise weapon to be used to further the Empire. Gaining his loyalty had been whimsically easy; he was a man that craved status and power, and the empty promise of both was easy for her to offer convincingly.
The difficulty had laid in the man’s ineptitude. Her opinion of the Minmatar as a people had lessened considerably since dealing with Mako. He had continually failed epically at every task he had been given, showing nothing but arrogance in response, consistently shifting blame to others for his failures.
He was pathetic.
Even now, as she sat on her throne, her head propped disinterestedly against one arm, he continued to ramble on, his stories become increasingly complicated, his lies becoming more transparent. She simply could not understand why the man would not act with honour, why he refused to accept his inadequacy and offer his life to her out of honour bound commitment.
Since the discovery of the wormholes, and the alarming number of capsuleers jumping on the bandwagon of exploration, much of New Eden had been left ripe for the picking.
She had made profitable arrangements with several pirate organizations, focusing their attentions on Minmatar space, another flawless strategy to weaken their militia. Some foolish Matar Colonel had cast himself into the spotlight as the would be saviour of his people against this threat.
It was of no consequence. Her power and wealth far outreached anything the Matari government could muster.
Her plan had been set in motion flawlessly; until Mako.
He had been tasked with the responsibility of gathering detailed intelligence as to the true might of the Elder Fleet, their hidden location, their contacts, their intentions, every bit of useful information that would enable her to conduct a full assault against them, finishing what she had started over a year before. Their complete annilihation was a must.
Having failed in that, she reassigned him to something more simplistic; recon on the Tribal Liberation Force. How hard was it to make use of his “numerous and powerful contacts within the Republic”, as he had put it, to ascertain their defensive patrols, and their offensive strike teams which constantly invaded Amarr borders, picking in vain at their systems. It was something any mid-ranking Amarr officer could accomplish, and yet, this decorated Valkear General of the Minmatar Republic couldn’t accomplish even that simple task.
“So as you can see, milady, I did the very best with what I was given in this circumstance.” Mako finished, kneeling on one knee, his head bowed down respectully.
Even his posture was lazy and offensive. There was no rigidness to his stance, no heartfelt fear or adoration for her in his physical presence. Quite simply, he disgusted her, and she was finished with him.
Without making any eye contact to Mako, she gave a subtle gesture, and her Imperial Honour Guard quickly moved into position, snatching Mako securely by his thick arms, dragging him to his feet. They secured him in binders, an energy handcuff that tightened the more it was struggled with, emitting an increasingly lethal electric shock all the while.
Mako once again showed his infancy, screaming profanities at her, spittle hanging from his mouth, veins pulsating in his forehead as his face turned red from anger and exertion.
She made another subtle hand gesture, and one of the Imperial Honour Guards struck Mako at the base of his skull with a vibro lance, dropping him to the marble floor. He fell unconscious, urinating himself.
“What do you think? Would he make a good slave? He is quite burly.” Sarum thought out loud to herself.
“No, this one is full of bile. He would poison all around him, revenge his only motivation for life. He would never forget this dishonour.” she answered to herself, her voice deep and husky.
“Still, he could be made into an example, over time. His will could be broken anew; he could be publically disciplined daily until he begged for death, which would be denied him. Surely then others would see how wonderful and terrible I can be?” she asked, her voice sweet and melodious.
“It’s a fool’s risk, and I am not a fool.” she replied, her voice dark and angry.
“Very well.” she said, her voice regaining its sweetness once more. “Marshall Commander,” she began, getting the attention of one of her guards. “Dispose of him, any way you please. Enjoy it if you choose, be playful; whatever you so desire. He is of no more use to me.”
The Marshall Commander nodded his understanding, and with the other Imperial Honour Guard, they dragged the urine soaked form of General Mako away.
Once the throne room was cleared, and the floors cleaned immediately by silent yet attentive serving slaves, Sarum began to think out loud once more.
“So then, what now?” she asked, her light feminine voice echoing in the emptiness.
“Now, I wait.” her dark masculine voice replied as a mischievious smile slowly crawled across her face.