Sagra preferred the dark. Always night over day –Convinced he did his best thinking away from light. Subsequently, the two things he found the most annoying about Iuama's nights were its moons. And right now, Dawa and Chandra were high and full. 

     Sagra stood with his hands gripping the railing of the highest balcony on Iuama. 'The Cazar' ─ an architectural feat.  Eight stories. Built it all with Tineke, spit, and spindles. No metal. Shenzing feris bugs. What the hell do they eat now that there is no metal? Well, there wasn't. If those little wajikes find the space shuttle. Tomba!  And now Hanar and Tyree are sailing around in a boat while Krista is flying a shuttle. Where the hell is that woman?

     Sagra craned his neck to look at the building's Tineke glass tower. My creation. Well, there was help from Nopo II, but she’s become contemptuous, and pushy.  A shame. She is beautiful, creative, and works well with all the egos involved. . . All except mine. The shrew has rejected me more than once. Imagine being disrespectful to the leader of Lakal. 

     Sagra's body stiffened. His fingernails dug into the palm of his hand.  And more than one person has witnessed her obstinance. It's embarrassing. Demeaning. She enjoys humiliating me. Sagra spit over the railing. She's acquired a deadly habit.   

    Sagra looked out over the city of Lakal relishing the moonlight reflecting off the many Tineke glass edifices onto the Nuaka River, and the buildings beyond. Moons are good for something, Sagra thought. I came here to build. Create cities. I had so many plans. So many ideas for a brand-new world. Tineke is the ultimate building material. It has so many functions.  If I could have coupled it with Warby steel . . . Architectural possibilities would be unlimited.  All I'd need is a dedicated group of workers. Tomba! Not around here. Tropical climates make people lazy. Lazy people tend to be more independent. Reluctant to be part of the whole. Why shouldn't they? 

     Sagra paced back and forth along the balcony. On Iuama, most basic needs are easily available. Great sex, and we live for a long time. Not a bad combination for the lazy. And sufficient reason for people to scatter about the planet ignoring the importance of creating unity, community, and cities. Laws. Governance. A strong leader is what this world needs. With a subservient labor force, I could build roads and bridges to connect the cities, reign in the Violator communities, hack away some of the damnable rainforests and increase our agricultural output. And dams. We need reservoirs.  The easiest way to control the population explosion is to lace the water supply with birth control compounds.  

     A beep and chirp from behind interrupted his musing. Sagra reached over his shoulder.  Ta Ta's owlish eyes blinked open and closed as she climbed onto his open palm. “Ah. My little one wants company.” Ta Ta twitched both stubby tails. Each movement timed perfectly with a beep and a chirp. Sagra's scowl broke into a wide, warm grin. 

     Ta Ta’s powder blue scales rattled. She kneaded her paws on Sagra's skin. Sharp, black claws flashed in and out. “Play nice,” Sagra said rubbing the ridge of scales around the top of her neck. “And you may get a ride in a space shuttle. . .” And if I had the shuttle — First I'd drag Rebecca Johnson, who now calls herself Valkyrie, back into my fold. . .” Sagra looked skyward and for a moment watched Dawa begin its pass over the face of Chandra. No. It’s better to get rid of her. Too many people listen to that wajike. He spat over the rail again. They always have.  

     Sagra paced along the balcony.  With the shuttle, I could bring down the walls of the Magnon and map the Labyrinth. Drive those Rock kundu from their enclave. Blow a few holes in the stone walls and watch people spill back into my control. Put both groups together and use them to build roads, buildings, bridges, dams, and reservoirs. It wouldn't be slave labor it would be volun –' Sagra's heart raced with his dream of domination.  Of course, my family and close associates would keep a watchful eye on . . . Developments in the various communities.  

     I didn’t ask for any of this. What’s the old saying? Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.  But until now even the most corrupt person gets old and . . . eventually dies. But not on Iuama.  At least not for a few centuries.  And as soon as all is in order I will insist on a free, open election. Sagra lifted his pet high in the air. Eye to eye.  “It’s been a while since we’ve held elections, hasn’t it Ta Ta?” 

     Sagra placed a thumb and forefinger around one of the sera's tails and rubbed. A feeling the sera enjoyed immensely.  “We did fudge a bit in the last democratic gesture, didn't we girl?  Sagra laughed. Ta Ta beeped. The council of equals has never been equal. And when my citizens elect me again. . . As I am certain they will.  A guttural snort came from the back of Sagra's throat.  I'll still have a place for Arkie, Biz, and Vety.  Nopo II is changing. Becoming more troublesome. Using the council to initiate dissension. Has to be her gene pool. Her brother — Her whole family seems –  

     Tsip, tsip, short fuzzy notes of the night flyers, intruded on Sagra's thoughts as they passed over the balcony. Ta Ta squealed a series of sharp beeps and chirps. Her scales rattled.  She hissed at the sky. Claws extended. Sharp black teeth bared.  Her neck rotated easily as she followed their line of flight. “You are a vicious little creature.” Sagra set the sera back on his shoulder, turned, and entered his suite. 

 

     On the wall, above an ornate table desk, were three pictures. Two young women and one young man. Sagra's children, Sagra was only fond of one.  “The future of Lakal?” Sagra questioned aloud looking at the center picture. Hanar is too sensitive. Too malleable. Tyree? Intelligent, but even as a child, cunning, a bully, mean to people and creatures. Probably a borderline psychopath. Sagra laughed proudly. She already has a reputation. Most of it bad. Most of it directed toward the outsiders Rechat christened Violators.’ And in a way they are. They violated my directives. 

     Ah, Rechat. Rechat's favorite person is Rechat.  Rechat has his own agenda, but right now he’s useful.  And now that his Blue army has been disbanded, he’s relatively harmless. . . Though – Sagra ran his fingers through his hair. Strange . . . I haven't heard from him for several days. . . No gazbag.  I should . . .’

     Sagra pulled the third picture from the wall and cradled it in his hands. My Zetta. He stared at the violet eyes and ebony hair that draped down the small of her back.  My beauty. My rebel. Brilliant. Kind. Loving. Stubborn. Progeny of my first pairing – so like her mother.  Sagra pulled open a section of his desk. You, my eldest—with a dash of shrew and vixen—would have been the perfect heir.  A true leader of Iuama..” Sagra took a last look at the violet eyes and repeated, “Zeta.”  And shoved the picture upside down into the back of the drawer.