Jack watched the jet fighters flash by overhead as the sun set, their sonic booms haunting their wake like thunder and their missiles falling like rain. The ground shook beneath him and panicked screams wracked the tortured, shimmering air. In the distance a skyscraper collapsed in a cloud of destruction as the world shivered and trembled. He stood in the firestorm that consumed the surrounding metropolis, the heat and the fury enough to singe his fur. His eyes burned with tears as the fumes of smoldering tar and melted rubber reached them.

“Can’t you see?” asked the Uminh beside him, it’s voice a deep, throaty whisper. The creature was shrouded in a black robe that drank in the light, a voluminous cowl hiding it’s face. It’s claws were a slimy gray mottled with purple, the restless pulse of the flames making them shine. “Your galaxy is chaos, our rule is order. The petty wars your people wage are the proof. We will put you on a platinum throne Jack, grant you power beyond your imagination. We will raise you far above those who scorn you and tell you that your only purpose is to serve. Give us your allegiance and we will give you a crown. We will make you a god.”

The cheetah snapped out of his reverie, suddenly aware of the approach of his supervisor. The coyote was angry, her upper lip curled in contempt and revealing a pearly fang. “Jack! What the hell are you doing? The crawlway circuits are fried and we’re nine hours from the damn deadline. I’ll have your tail for breakfast if the auxiliaries aren’t operational.”

“I…I’m sorry,” the cheetah stammered. “I’ll get them working, I promise! I was just thinking about where to start, the chain is complex and-“

“Shut up,” the coyote barked. “Just get it done. Now!”

“Yes ma’am, right away ma’am,” Jack backed away, ducked into the hatch behind him. On his claws and knees he made his way to the first breaker box, the orange light of the crawlway bathing the tight, pipe lined tube beyond. He slipped open the catch of the box’s covering with his paw. Most of the fuses within glowed green but several emanated red instead, their plastic casings glittering like rubies. He opened the pouch of his utility belt and began plucking the malfunctioning fuses from the board, replacing them with the fresh ones he carried.

He became aware of the Uminh beside him when he was almost finished. He could sense its amusement, a psychic aura that washed over him like a tidal wave.

“Look at you,” the alien said, it’s grating voice taking on a chiding tone. “We see the potential of divinity within you, yet all we see when we watch you live is slavery. They broke you didn’t they? They crushed your spirit and bought your life force for a paltry pile of paper.”

Jack glanced at the darkness that concealed the alien’s face. The accusations shamed him. As he closed the box and snapped the catch shut the truth of it’s words sunk in. “I didn’t choose this life. I didn’t! I have to play the hand I was dealt. There’s no other choice. I’m amazingly lucky to be on this station. It could have been much worse…”

His companion chuckled contemptuously. “We were once like you. We believed we had to bend to the laws of the universe, that we were at the mercy of the ‘hand dealt’ to us. All of it is lies. I will show you soon enough.”

The Uminh vanished. Jack returned to his duties, his mind wandering. The alien’s words were spoken but the doubts they had left behind were there to stay.

***

Six hours later, the fuses all replaced, he sat in his quarters and stared at the bottle of white wine on the table. It was mostly empty. Frowning he picked up the bottle and lifted it to his lips. He closed his eyes as he drank, images of the crawlways invading his mind unbidden. His back ached and his knees throbbed. He was weary right down to his bones.

The Uminh was right. My life is a wasteland. What did I do today? Nothing a robot couldn’t do. The only reason I’m here on the station is because my salary is cheaper than the maintenance of a machine.

Jack’s imagination kindled. He realized he was fantasizing about being a god-king. The coyote supervisor awaited his pleasure at the foot of the dais, wearing nothing but her fur, a chain wrapped around her throat and slender wrists. In the colossal throne room beyond her the station’s staff was in rags, their heads bowed in the blazing presence of his greatness. Mountains would move at his command, the orbits of worlds would shift and suns would shine or die.

He smiled sadly as the vision faded away. He was back in his dim and spartan quarters, alone as always. He went to the kitchen and reached inside its tiny fridge, uncorked another bottle of wine. Tomorrow was a day off. He had to find his freedom when he could.

***

Final thoughts:

*Yes I'm a.k.a Wolf O'Donnell and Star Wolf. I wrote Armeggedon on the saturday morning sonic boards (both satam and fus), and I couldn't finish that story because I lost my son while I was writing it. I'm sorry to anyone from there who comes across me here and wonders why the heck I would start something new without finishing what I began there.

The facts remain, every time I work on that story my mind turns to ****. Maybe one day when I'm stronger, when Ambrose is with me...

*This segment is inspired by "Sweet Nothing"...