Dead Star Dockyards

"Any imperfection, any flaw, with me, my decisions, or my work is unacceptable." Donovan did not feel himself the type to wax poetic, however this was a bit different. "I am a leader, even if I don't like it, which means any mistakes or mishaps which occur as a result of me or the subordinates I've chosen ultimately become my responsibility. The lives of a great many people will depend on me, and so I need to ensure I get as much right as possible. Thousands could die otherwise."

"Then I will-"

"No." Donovan cut Titanyana off. "The moment you decided to subordinate yourself to Diana and I was the moment you abdicated absolute responsibility. There will certainly be things you are responsible, tasks I entrust to you to complete, however nobody will expect you to handle everything. For what its worth, I don't think people will expect me to handle everything either, but I don't have the largesse of a higher authority to shunt blame or important decisions onto. If ever I run into a situation I cannot handle, be it through my own actions or the careful allocation of relevant resources and manpower, people are going to suffer."

"But ever ruler has a council they rely on."

"That may be, but who is responsible for that council?" Donovan could see Titanyana struggling with an answer. "Your father, who selected his council?"

"Um, the clans?"

Donovan found himself sighing. The concept of an absolute monarchy probably wasn't widely accepted across the greater galaxy, much less in a meritocratic society like the Nekh's.

"The form of governance Diana and I wish to create places me firmly at the top of the hierarchy, in what we call an 'absolute despotate'. We may allow such institutions as a parliament and nobility ranks, positions of authority that can enact laws and enforce their own will to some extent, however I will have absolute authority. That 'absolute' authority comes with a commensurate degree of responsibility."

"But . . . what if someone makes a mistake?"

"If they have made a legitimate effort to fulfill my decree and failed as a matter of circumstance, then I will have been responsible for failing to adequately understand the circumstance. If they failed due to a lack of ability, then it is my responsibility for assigning someone incompetent to complete the task. If they are actively traitorous and resisting my authority, then I am responsible for failing to see through them and assigning an enemy to the task."

"What about their subordinates?"

"Their failures fall upon my shoulders just as much as theirs. Should they be unable to resolve such issues, it will fall upon me to find someone who can or otherwise handle the problem myself." Donovan watched Titanyana as the gears turned inside her head. Clearly she didn't agree with this philosophy of governance. "People I appoint to positions of authority are expected to be competent enough to recognize and appoint similarly competent people as their subordinates. Once again, their failings are my failings."

"And what will you do if you can't find anyone to fill a role? Even if you can do a lot, you only have two hands, don't you?"

"A good point, even if it misses the core of what I am trying to communicate." Donovan had thought a lot on this topic, though less in the theoretical 'what will I do if it occurs' and more in the practical 'how do I prevent this from occurring'. "Should there not be someone capable of a task, I will accept that work will not get done and take responsibility for it. Investing in human resources such that candidates become easily available for me to make use of is my responsibility as well. If my authority is absolute, then I am equally responsible for actions I have not taken as actions I have taken - inaction and ignorance are not excuses. They may explain fault, but they do not absolve responsibility, especially not for the consequences."

"But, um, why does that mean you can't have flaws?"

"Because I am the only thing I can control with absolute certainty." Donovan stopped, turning to face her before they got within earshot. "If I cannot control myself, remove from myself all aspects of imperfection, how can I possibly expect to do the same for a nation of thousands, let alone trillions? Why should I expect the men beneath me, those who rely on me to make the best decision at every turn, to trust and follow me if I am a lesser man than they?"

"And if that makes you less . . . human?" Titanyana's ears were drooping.

He didn't know how to answer her. Perhaps some reading assignments were in order to provide the foundation of knowledge and theory behind his position, enlightenment and absolutist era works like The Social Contract and The Leviathan. Maybe then she would 'get it', even if she couldn't 'understand'.

"By accepting the authority of the state, I become the state. By investing its power in me, the state becomes me. I am no longer an individual, the state is no longer a collective. The state is my tool, I am its slave. If the state demands I stop being human, I have no choice but to oblige." Donovan felt this to be an adequate explanation, even if it explained little. Summarizing several works of political theory along with the interpretation of how those works applied to a combined head of state and government.

". . . huh?"

"Let's go with the wordy version then.

The role of a state is to protect its people and further their interests. As the individual with absolute authority over such a system, I have a duty to ensure this role is fulfilled - I become the state.

As the one who wields the power of the state towards fulfilling it's purpose, I become the representative of the state's will - the state becomes me.

By accepting the authority over the people of the state, I must act in the interests of the collective - I am no longer an individual.

The power of a state residing in a single individual means it has a face, someone to assume responsibility and represent its ideals and attitude at home and abroad - the state is no longer a collective.

I possess the ability to direct the state's resources as I please - the state is my tool.

I must prioritize the demands of the state above my own if it is to survive - I am its slave.

If I must abandon traits and characteristics considered 'human' to satisfy the needs of the state, the Leviathan, then I must do so. Otherwise the state will degrade, and what I sought to protect by offering myself to it will be endangered."

"But . . . but . . . why would you want that? Why would you choose to live that way?" She was tearing up, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Despite her reserved attitude, Titanyana was very empathetic, and the culture of the Nekh placed a great value on personal autonomy and living 'free'. They may exhibit collectivist tendencies, but the only imposition of this collectivism on the person was to maintain order and community, the biggest example of such being the freedom of an individual to take a trade not associated with their genetic proclivities - their 'clan' - sacrificing efficiency, productivity, and proficiency to satisfy the desire of an individual.

"Choose?" Donovan did not want to get aggressive with her. He kept his voice calm despite the growing conflict between them. "Enlighten me Titanyana, if I am not to lead, who will carry the sins of the state? Diana? She doesn't have the resolve to kill innocent people if her survival depended upon it, and even if she did I wouldn't want her to bear the burden."

She avoided eye contact, shying away from him as he brought his face closer.

"Surely you don't think we should devolve the authority of the state into a democracy, do you? If you think so then I must remind you the purpose of this state, the preservation of the Terran - and Nekh - people. How am I to ensure this purpose is upheld if I distribute authority to those who are potentially hostile to us? A strictly feudal system won't work either, unless these vassals of mine are my own blood, in which case I have to wonder why I don't just keep the authority centralized? Where do you think the authority should be placed?"

". . . I don't know."

"Neither do I, which is why it needs to be concentrated in my hands. This way, I can devolve authority to others as the situation allows." Donovan put his hands on the sides of her head, gently turning her to look in his eyes while he scratched behind her ears. Fortunately she did not put up any resistance, though she appeared a little embarrassed. "If it makes you feel any better, not much has changed for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Before coming here, I was a soldier, already slave to the will of a state. Being Emperor is just a change in rank." Donovan smirked, intending that to be a joke. For whatever reason, she didn't find it funny. If anything it made her sadder.

- - - - -

Titanyana wanted to hug Donovan. The desire did not stem from a romantic intent, she simply wanted to comfort a Donovan who resigned himself to a life beyond his control. There was more to it of course, a subconscious desire to comfort herself in the embrace of the man she loved, the man who openly admitted to his willingness to change from the person she loved.

She didn't - couldn't - understand the reasons and justifications Donovan offered. It went beyond a gap in knowledge or failure to grasp the concepts he set forth, it was a fundamental refusal to believe someone could do something like that, a refusal to believe Donovan thought so little of 'himself'.

She gathered that Donovan, despite understanding himself to be indispensable to their future, ultimately viewed 'himself' to be disposable. What they needed was the body, the knowledge, the knowhow, the authority, the figure. What they did not need was 'Donovan'. The personality was, in his eyes, detrimental, flawed, and so needed to be suppressed or destroyed.

And he seemed to be okay with it, or at the very least resigned to it. Worse still, this was nothing new for him, 'just a change in rank'.

This terrified Titanyana, even if she didn't recognize why. It made her feel like the person she loved wasn't real, merely a mask he donned to perform a task at the behest of some other power. Masks could change in a moment, and she didn't want to be in love with a mask.

"Let's get back to the corpse. We've got some fangs to pick up, don't we?"

"Mhm." Titanyana settled for hugging his arm, rubbing her cheek against his bicep while grasping his hand with both of her own. It was a bit awkward given the poncho, still slightly wet from the prior rain, but it made her feel like she was keeping him in place. She would have to collect herself and let go once they got closer, once she started to poke out over the grass. For now she would think, reflecting on her turmoil in search of a solution.

"Do you, uh, want me to take it off?" Donovan referred to the damp layer of waterproofed textile between them, evidently thinking the residual water to be uncomfortable.

"No." Even if Titanyana did not 'like' the separation, she respected the distance it provided. His offer ultimately catered to a perceived emotional injury, one he felt responsible for, not a desire to adopt a more physical or intimate relationship with her. She felt as though accepting would represent a loss in some way, appeasing the immediate primal desire for closeness while further enforcing his view of her as someone he needed to protect.

Not that she thought being protected was wrong or anything. She very much liked being protected by Donovan, in fact it was something she greatly desired, but this type of 'protection' would increase the distance between her heart and his. If given the impression she could not handle uncomfortable conversations and his honest feelings on a given subject, he would begin to adopt a paternalistic approach instead of a romantic one, handling her like a child rather than an equal.

"Titanyana."

"Hm?" A shift in tone accompanied his arm becoming more tense, his grasp on her fingers tightening ever so slightly. Seeking an explanation, she shifted her gaze up to his face. For whatever reason, his eyes were glued on the sky.

"Get in the grass, now!"

"What?"

"I said get in the grass!"

- - - - -

Donovan shoved the confused Titanyana into the grass, disregarding all pretenses of courtesy and politeness as he did so.

Something was wrong.

Something was dangerously wrong.

He just hadn't figured out what. He didn't doubt his instincts screaming at him about an imminent threat, something about the present situation was exposing them to danger, however it was taking the rational portion of his psyche a bit longer to put together the 'why'.

"GET AWAY FROM THE BODY!!!" He started to sprint towards the corpse being harvested, waving his arms above his head and screaming a warning at the top of his lungs. "THE GRASS!!! GET INTO THE GRASS!!!"

Fortunately, it seemed the Nekh engaged in skinning and meat gathering could hear him, though he seemed confused, turning to stare at Donovan and returning a wave.

"GET OFF THE BODY!!! GET OFF!!! GET INTO THE GRASS!!!"

The Nekh, still confused, appeared to somewhat understand Donovan and relayed something to the others. The efficacy of his instruction to those on the ground could not be determined, the grass obscured their location from view, but the other men on top all started dismounting, albeit slowly.

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"HURRY!!! FASTER!!!" He was getting close now, close enough to make out a return shout from the Nekh in question. Donovan couldn't make it out completely, but he seemed to want to know what was wrong.

Donovan couldn't give him an answer. Not because he hadn't figured out the reason, not because he didn't have the breath to scream it out for him, but because it was already too late.

FBOOOOOM

A shockwave knocked Donovan halted Donovan in his tracks, pushing him backwards and deafening him while he squinted from the dirt and dust. He wasted no time wiping his eyes and dropping into a squat, seeking to restore his vision in a concealed position, bracing himself mentally to take in the sight of this predator.

-aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAA

Enough of his hearing returned to grasp the tail end of its mighty roar, though it might be more accurate to say the roar was loud enough to break through the tinnitus. That was good though, it meant he hadn't died immediately. It also meant he needed to be anywhere else but here, so as his vision returned to him he slowly backed into the long grass.

It was a good thing too, because the first thing he noticed wasn't the creature in question, but the edge of a circle of grass that had been flattened by the blast only a few feet in front of him, the unconscious (or possibly deceased) bodies of the harvest crew littered around the clearing, deformities in the otherwise uniform grade of grass.

kakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakaka

A guttural crackling emanated from the monstrosity in the middle, vibrations rattling his skull and chest in spite of the distance. To say it dwarfed the already massive predator from before would be an understatement, and Donovan wasn't sure if he was even seeing the majority of its body.

Light blues and grays made up the majority of the colors on its coat, splotches of purple and green around the neck and edges of its two pairs of gargantuan wings being the only deviations from this norm aside from the eyes. Four legs, each of which appeared twice as thick as the trees he measured, dug into the corpse of Donovan's kill with talons far larger than he wanted to imagine, while a tail longer than some of said trees were tall whipped about, control feathers extending and contracting in a show of pleasure and dominance.

These were all minor details in comparison to the most threatening part of this creature, the head. Easily about a third of the other beast's volume, the titan's cranium was attached to a neck thicker than it's legs and half as long as its tail. Instead of a beak, the face was more akin to a weasel or mink, except elongated, and lacking such features as ears, a nose, or the general cuteness such mustelids tended to embody. The violent nature was there though, clearly displayed by the set of fangs showing in it's partially open mouth - each the length and thickness of his forearm. The eyes glowed a vibrant yellow, scanning both meal and surroundings with razor focus.

Until they found Donovan, at which point he received the complete and total attention of the interloper.

It was a dragon, even if it didn't have the scaly complexion that occupied the imaginations of storytellers past, and if it wanted him dead there wasn't much he could do about it. Still, he met it's gaze and kept it.

He had surrendered control of the situation to his gut, logic and reason being inadequate tools for the challenge at hand. Survival would need to be an act of pleasing it or otherwise making killing him undesirable, and his gut was telling him running or hiding would evoke the 'chase' response. So he engaged in a staring contest with the dragon fully understanding he could die in a moment for no discernable reason.

Donovan did not know how long it lasted, but the dragon was the first to blink, looking down towards its meal before looking back into Donovan's eyes. Naturally Donovan followed the gaze, something the dragon seemed to catch on to, though he wasn't sure that was a good thing.

kukukukukukukukukuku

A deep rumble, different in tone and frequency shook his vision, the edges of the dragon's lips pulling back to reveal more of its teeth. A laugh, or so Donovan interpreted it, likely an expression of bemusement at the audacity of such a small creature to covet its food, however it almost seemed . . . amenable? Donovan could not sense hostility in the dragon's actions or stance, not that a lack of hostility meant it couldn't kill him for something like amusement or to satisfy its curiosity.

KRRK

The crushing of a skull was subsequently accompanied by the tearing of flesh as the dragon ate the beast's head whole. It didn't even chew, just bit down and tore it off. The power required for something like that wasn't anything Donovan wanted to think about, so he didn't. He suppressed the thoughts and maintained eye contact as the dragon stood up on it's hind legs, stretching out it's wings before tucking them back in and leaning back on its tail.

Then it picked up the corpse beneath it.

Then it ripped off one of the corpse's legs.

Then it tossed the limb towards Donovan, such that it came to a stop a few feet away from him.

kukukukukukukukukuku

The same mocking rumble, or perhaps one of amusement. Either way, Donovan recognized what this was, or at least he assumed he did. It was an offering, or perhaps token of recognition. It hadn't dealt the killing blow, it knew that, but it clearly needed to eat. It also knew that Donovan needed to eat, and seemed to believe he needed to feed everyone in the surrounding area. So it threw Donovan a bone - literally a chunk of bone with meat attached - either to compensate him for stealing his kill or as recognition for his prowess in felling a greater foe.

Donovan didn't know which it was (if his assessment was accurate to begin with), but before he could even consider a response to this strange act of honor for a wild beast, the dragon had picked up the rest of the corpse in its front claws and was stretching its wings again.

kheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-FWOOOOOOOOOMP

A long inhale preceded the cyclone inducing flap of it's wings, that action alone propelling the dragon more than a hundred feet in the air in a physics defying feat of strength. The grass which had started to right itself was once again flattened, and the entire world seemed to fall silent as the flapping faded in the distance.