A relaxed temperament replaced the once hectic atmosphere on the Proctors new Flagship. Progress still dominated the daily business, albeit, at a slower pace. They had met the deadlines, not because of hard work, but because the Proctor threatened to cut their electrode rationing to zero. Space races became the norm, with small runner crafts zooming around fixed-positioned space markers set in pre-determined space tracks. This allowed the political aid, placed as Head of Construction by the Proctor, to become rich after starting a profitable betting agency. From time to time, fights erupted with pieces of androids flying everywhere, after it became clear someone had sabotaged the runner crafts Steering Units, or the fixed-positioned …show more content…
“That wont do any good? He’s so bloody high he'll still be switched on twenty years from now. Lock him in the brig until he comes down from his space flight, I need him to update me on the fleets construction!” “In the brig?” Lexus asked, confused. “What’s a brig?” The Proctor looked at him, dumbfounded. “What? You’ve never heard of a brig?” Lexus shook his head. “We use it to confine our prisoners or punish the crew if they step out of line,” the Proctor explained, shocked. “Oh!” Lexus grunted, astonished. “I kill them after I torture them.” “Don’t worry,” the Proctor said, as he made his way to the bridge. “So do I. However, we need this idiot.”

It took four hours for the aid to come back to normal, when he did his programs believed they had gone through a Gargodian, Cyber Chip Fryer. “What the hell's going on here?” The Proctor screamed, through the brig's, iron bars, causing the cyber chips in the aide's head to jump from one side of his cranium to the other. “What do you think this place is? A bloody holiday camp?” “I thought I'd give then extended leave for such a good job they’ve done,” the aide replied, his cyber chips vibrating like a high-speed …show more content…
“Yes, sir,” he replied, as a scream sounded in the background. “Stop killing the construction crew, we need them. There are others on the fifth planet. Take whatever transport ships you need and round them up.” “And then, sir?” “Send them back to work.” “What, no death sentences?” Lexus asked, surprised. “Not one,” replied the Proctor. “I’m bringing the completion time forward. I want this battle fleet ready in four days for a full attack on the Saris system. Then, you can do as you please.” The political aid, even though his cyber chips were bouncing around like a box full of exploding fireworks, realised what it meant. Political aid or not, he would, like the rest of the construction crew, be dismantled after the fleets completion. Vanishing now would be impossible. He would wait for an opportune moment then hide. However, being a political aide to the Proctor meant...one did not make many friends. But, there was someone who could help and embrace the thoughts now sitting in his electronic