Captain Cornelius Cartrite stood on the bridge of his ship, The Catalyst, focusing in on a pinpoint of light in the blanket of star lights on the giant view screen in front of him, for no reason other than to focus his attention and thoughts on ignoring the sharp pain that had just shot through his body. He knew the pain would pass quickly, as it always did.
He also understood that this pain was more a necessary side effect of his treatment, than of his sickness. A sign, perhaps, that their experimentation may have been taking a turn for the better.
Cartrite turned quickly at the noise from the hiss of the opening sliding door at the rear of the bridge, as he had trained himself to instinctively do. It was just another reflex he felt was necessary in remaining in his position; something he had been successful at for so many long years. He needed to know who was on the bridge at all times and had to be cautious of the threat of assassination, which always haunted a person of his stature.
This time, he was pleased to see his personal medic and man of science, Professor Voth, step onto the bridge carrying his usual stack of technical readouts. Cartrite thought Voth’s one living eye showed a rare glint of pleasure this morning — uncommon for the Professor, but a possible indication of the presence of good news. His other eye, the mechanical implant sunken into its metallic socket, glowed in the usual dark hue of red. His uneven grey hair was dishevelled and out of place, as always.
Although he would not say it aloud, the captain admired Voth’s devotion to the project, taking it upon himself to test the bio-technology he had created on himself. It was risky, even though the professor assured safety with so many tests, successful and unsuccessful, on the disposable living subjects obtained from the inferior planets.
As they had envisioned, Professor Voth’s abilities had increased exponentially with his bio-upgrades. The eye-piece wrapped around over to the area where his ear had been, supplying him with an enhanced audio sensor — ten times as effective as the faded hearing in his natural ear.
Voth approached and stood at attention in the best way his crooked posture would allow. “Sir, the last series of tests showed a massive improvement in the functionality of your electronic heart valve system. With a few modifications, your heart should soon be running twenty percent more efficiently.”
“Excellent work, professor,” said Cartrite.
The heart he referred to had been the one Cartrite had recently chosen to replace his slowly failing natural one. Although it hadn’t yet fully failed, Cartrite had chosen to ensure his future by removing the aging biological one and replacing it with an electronic prototype, created by Professor Voth himself.
At times, pains would rocket through him as his body tried to reject the part, but their constant tweaking was eventually defeating the body’s natural defence mechanism, in the end offering them a superior way of life. His heart was stronger than anyone’s, offering the old man an infinite level of blood flow and the ability to slow his heart beat to near zero if required.
The only person in all of Azore’s Crown that Cornelius Cartrite trusted was Professor Voth. Voth had had unlimited opportunities to kill him, working on such sensitive areas, but always showed a genuine effort toward success. Countless other scientists who had worked on Cartrite’s projects had been executed as they grew independent. Professor Voth had remained interested, even absorbed, in their pursuits of life extension and improvement.
“Beyond that sir,” said Voth, “I have uncovered some more documentation about the history of the Balarian tablets. I am confident our plans will be successful.”
Cartrite’s heart system stopped his heart rate from increasing with his contained excitement regarding the positive news. One of its enhancements was the restriction of needless increases and decreases in blood pressure. It was quite effective at preventing these ‘emotional blips’ which could cause one to lose concentration and make mistakes, or become unnecessarily tired.
“I hope you realize that things will never be the same after this,” said Cartrite. “Our plans will quickly fall into place, if our testing is successful.”
“When will we have them aboard?”
“Very shortly.”
“Excellent, captain. Then I’ll continue with my preparation.”
Professor Voth bowed slightly before heading off the bridge. The captain was pleased.
That Galactic Guard pilot who had been so eager to obtain the tablets was on his way to the rendezvous point. Was it Mildork? Muldoff? Cartrite couldn’t recall the pilot’s name, but was surprised at how foolish he had been in so quickly accepting an offer from a known threat like himself. His sources had suggested this weak minded pilot, who seemed to have just enough power to be dangerous in his quest for advancement.
He wondered if the tablets had truly been guarded by the mythical dragon, rumoured to be in the unfortunate crash site of the cargo ship, and if so, how the imbecile would have managed to get around it. Cartrite was confident that the creature had been there. The Scoparian Dragon, as it had been named, had likely been a small creature when the shuttle arrived, mutated and warped over time by the incredible unrestrained power of the Balarian tablets. It would have subconsciously chosen to stay near the ship forever, unwilling to remove itself from the pure energy field expelled from the ancient relics.
Cartrite’s right eye watered slightly as he fought back a sharp slice of pain in his head. The tablets could not arrive soon enough.