All-Patron Reward: Demons of the Past old Draft: Baptism of Fire, Chapter 4

This chapter is one of the ones that most clearly shows the weakness in the old drafts. Jearsen and the Starhawk-later-Eonwyl being both male in that particular draft just drives home the changes in the personal dynamics of the characters, but more obvious is the lack of DEPTH that came from the added viewpoints and motivations. Without Taelin, and without the viewpoint of Starhawk/Eonwyl, we don't get a look at Varan and his world from the outside. Without Varan's involvement in the psionic battle, there's less plot-based reason for the Monitor's summons. The clumsy foreshadowing for Shagrath's villainy is done by a Monitor, instead of being brought in by Taelin. This undermines the nature of the Monitors themselves, which also weakens the worldbuilding. 

Sections like this show the difference between someone 25-30 years old writing an only partially formed universe, and someone at 50 with a fully-formed vision.

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iv.

I got a promotion and a medal, of course. Any jerk'll get that if he's got the guts or stupidity to take an attacking platoon on singlehanded. That didn't keep me from waking up nights screaming as the Doradan horde tore my armor apart in their deadly claws. "Shock", the medics called it, as if that explained anything; "extreme phobia brought on by battlefield trauma" said the psychologists, and at least that meant something; that I was suddenly scared to death of Doradans; anything even remotely related to them gave me the shakes. I saw a group of technicians carrying a dead one through the corridor, and shrank against the wall, sick and shaking. It was hardest to deal with the Chakron crewmembers, since they looked just like Doradans except a few feet shorter; the first time I saw one after the battle, I screamed until he scuttled out, understandably offended.

But the worst part was Jearsen. I kept going back to that battle and realizing it was my fault he'd died. If I had just followed Tels' orders, we wouldn't have been there. Or if I'd made sure I'd been standing near the Null-7 while I was arguing with the Captain...

During my convalescence, I received few visitors. One surprised me: it was the Starhawk.

He walked in without knocking, and the guard didn't seemed inclined to stop him. "Greetings, Commander. It is Commander now, isn't it?"

I nodded, a bit stunned at his sudden arrival. "Yes."

"I felt I owed you an apology, Commander. Though my views are as I previously stated, I did express them rather harshly; I'm afraid I thought you were a blind follower rather than a true patriot." He inclined his head, and those incredible blue eyes seemed to brighten even more. "But no sheeplike follower could have done what you did. Heroism of that type... Well, I was wrong about you, Commander Varan. My apologies for any offense I may have given you. And the offer of a job still stands. Doubled." He extended his hand.

I took it. His grasp was firm and precisely equalled my own; the true mark of a trader, showing neither weakness nor attempting to overpower. "Thank you, uh, Starhawk, but I've had enough medals, compliments and so on... I was just doing my job, and not too well at that." I fell silent. Jearsen...

He spoke again, and this time it lacked some of the hard arrogance of his other speeches. "I could see that you two were close, Varan. I'm sorry about your friend; from the little I knew of him he was a man I'd have been proud to call friend. But don't be so hard on yourself. Your actions may have hastened his end, or slowed it; but in that assault anyone would have died. I know, I've fought them before. How you survived is beyond me. I do know that your actions saved the rest of the station, including several hundred civilians. That is something to be proud of." He turned to go.

I half sat up. "Wait... where were you during the battle?"

He turned back to me and gave a lopsided, cynical grin. "You know us traders, why risk our skins with nothing to gain? Let the military do it. I was protecting my investment." With that he gave a nod to the guard and strode out.

I snorted to myself. About what I'd thought; he barricaded himself in and made sure no one got near his ship. Nice sort of guy to make fine speeches.

It was only after talking to the Officer-on-Watch of the attack day that I got the real story. When the alarm sounded the Starhawk had sprinted for his ship and undocked immediately. He had then led a hit-and-run attack on two Doradan battleships until reinforcements(in the form of four Navy Battlestarships) arrived. He was outgunned and outmassed a thousand to one, but he had kept them busy for forty-five minutes. One of the Doradans had suffered significant damage from the sheer volume of fire that the Starhawk heaped on it, constantly focusing on the same point until hole-through occurred.

That was the only bright point of the episode. It was also in a way the most frustrating. Here was a man whose every word and glance showed his contempt for the Imperium and the Navy, and yet he unhesitatingly risks himself and his ship for three quarters of an hour to save an Imperial outpost...for no profit. How can you figure out a man like that?

It took me a month before the doctors, physical and mental, let me out of sickbay. The head docs had done as much as they could; hypnosis, drugs, and a lot of talking had lessened the phobia. Now instead of screaming, I only broke out in a film of sweat and goosebumps whenever Zakhla, the Chakron engineer, went by. That was good, because it meant I could at least talk with him, though with difficulty, and as a commanding officer and former chief engineer this was pretty important.

It was a few months later, and I was in my cabin. It had been a pretty wretched day. There had been a serious malfunction of the gravity generators, and I'd been forced to work with Zakhla for two hours; the strain had worn my nerves to laser-thinness. Zakhla was probaly the best engineer I'd ever met, and I was glad he was on the station...as long as I didn't have to see him. I was sprawled on my bunk, trying to get some sleep and escape nightmares, when the door chimed. "Yeah." I mumbled, hoping whoever it was would go away.

"Commander Varan, the Section Monitor wishes to speak with you." It was Theskin, the runner ensign.

"Oh, sink the Monitor with Atlantis, Theskin." I snapped, pulling a pillow over my head.

A much deeper voice responded. "Hrmmph! Is that a proper form of address, Commander?"

Torline's Swords! The Monitor! "Excuse me, sir!" I gasped, scrambling for my clothing. "I had no idea -- uh --"

"Forget it -- this time, Varan, I'll make allowances." The voice, I noted with relief, was tinged more with amusement than anger.

I hit the switch, letting the Section Monitor enter. I saluted. "Sir!"

He waved a half-assed salute back. "At ease, Varan, this isn't an inquisition." He sat down. "Actually, I'm off-duty right now, Sasham."

"Oh." I raised an eyebrow and sank back onto the bed. "Then what's the visit for, Frankel?"

"I've got a private, sealed message for you." I noticed that Monitor Frankel -- Monitor Frankel! -- looked a bit nervous. "From the Prime Monitor."

That startled me. The Emperor's right hand, sending a message to me? I was excited and a little afraid -- there were stories about Shagrath... "Well, Frankel, what's the message?"

He handed me a message plate. "The details are on there; they're encoded with the Prime Monitor's own seal, and even I can't read it, only you." He spoke now in his official "Monitor" tone. "Prime Monitor Shagrath requests that former Lieutenant Commander, now Commander, Sasham Varan come with all reasonable speed to Lab Complex One on Oro."

My eyes must have widened at that. Oro! I'd never expected to even see the capital of Empire until I made Admiral. "Frankel," I said slowly, "why are you delivering this message instead of the Prime Moniter sending a regular Tach communique?"

He didn't answer right away. "Sasham... sometimes Shagrath finds it nescessary to do things that aren't quite legal. He doesn't want an official record of this message for some reason. Leave it at that." Frankel looked directly at me. "we've gotten along better than most officers and Monitors, Varan. For the sake of that, I'll give you one piece of advice: be careful. Shagrath is more dangerous than you'd believe." He got up quickly and left, the last words trailing behind him.