Scattered Stardust

2 Years Later

Lotor's head slammed into the ground, black spots flashing across his vision. Before he could catch his breath, a booted foot pinned him down by the throat.

Rosk fixed him with a condescending grin, fangs flashing.

"You did much better this time princeling. I almost had to try!" he laughed, sword swung carelessly over his shoulder. He put a little more weight on Lotor's throat, cutting off his air.

Lotor gave a small gasp, sweat from the fight running into his eyes. Rosk was waiting for him to yield. The thuggish Galra lieutenant always made pain last a little longer than necessary. And Lotor was his favorite target. The ship's crew all cheered Rosk on as he sneered, waiting for Lotor's surrender.

The prince's strange eyes flashed. Rosk was putting too much weight on his left foot, leaving him unbalanced. As his lungs screamed for oxygen he saw an opening. In one fluid movement Lotor swiped his legs out in a smooth arc, knocking Rosk off balance. As he stumbled, surprised, Lotor surged to his feet, landing a solid blow in Rosk's stomach. His tall opponent bent double, wheezing as the air left his lungs. He looked up just in time to receive a furious punch to the face. In a matter of moments, Lotor stood over him, sword hanging inches from his face.

The crew lining the walls of the training deck went quiet. They had all sparred with Lotor at some point and reached this same position. Rosk had been the last, and most fearsome of their number. Now he lay helpless on the floor. Lotor's final obstacle.

After a breathless moment, Rosk growled,

"I yield."

Lotor removed the blade and helped his opponent up, as was traditional. As they both stood and faced the spectators, something seemed to change. No one dared to look the prince in the eye. They had all been bested by him now. Every crew member had fought him and lost. And though many still glared at him because of crushed pride or scarred bodies, their stares now held an element of grudging respect.

Lotor noted this as he nodded to Rosk and left the training deck.

....................................................................................

"This extended travel is getting tiresome. Even my own crew can no longer teach me anything new about combat," Lotor drawled to his communicator. Haggar's face remained as cold and hard as ever as she replied,

"Arrogant as ever. You are surrounded by top Galra officers. They have years more experience and knowledge."

"They are predictable," Lotor snapped. "Trained animals that have no initiative or originality. They speak of tactics and strategy while only practicing their brute strength. You wanted a progress report? This is it. Give me a real challenge or else bring me back to headquarters."

"You are a fool if you think meager skill with a blade is enough to redeem you," Haggar hissed. "It is clear that your time in exile has done nothing but inflate your opinion of yourself. You think you have earned a place in the empire? I think it's time you see who your equals truly are."

The communicator deactivated, leaving Lotor alone in his room. He began to pace, thinking about what the witch had said.

His equals? What did she mean by that?

He stumbled against the wall as the ship turned sharply. What was this? He had not been informed of any change in course. Silently seething with frustration, he swept out of his room and to the bridge.

"Why have we changed course captain?" he demanded, facing off with the much taller officer.

"Orders from headquarters sir."

"And what is the destination?"

"The gladiator ring aboard Commander Sendak's ship," the captain replied.

"What? Why?"

"I was not given specifics sir. I only know that we are to be there by next movement. We are to receive additional instructions once we have arrived."

Lotor frowned as he thought about what this could mean. A visit to a gladiator ring? Was Haggar going to try and force him to fight for entertainment? Well if that was what she had in mind she would be sorely disappointed. A burn of indignation at the thought flickered in the back of his mind.

He was nobody's plaything.