by Vi Voxley
He paused, looking out into the space around his warship, the Claw. It was one of the fifteen flagships of the Brion armies, so immense that the ship's own systems sometimes struggled to recognize its parameters. His eyes attempted to pierce the darkness of the empty vastness of space, searching for the enemy. Somewhere out there, could it really be him? If it was true, Corden was intent to have it. Such a treat would not be allowed to slip through his fingers.
If it wasn't another ghost story, it was his duty to find the legend.
"As for the truth," he said quietly, knowing they all heard him, hanging on his every word. "I don't know. It might be him. It might be the Abysmal under new command. Ships don't die like we do, after all. All I am sure of is that we have to find out. Set course for the last presumed location. Tell the others to keep away until I investigate this."
The bridge came to life around him and the Claw started humming beneath his feet. Corden smirked, seeing his crew fret over his orders. By "others", Corden meant his brother generals, known all over the galaxy as men who didn't like being told to wait. He knew the communication officers would spend a considerable while trying to figure out the best way to phrase "this one's mine".
"Soren," the general called. "Come with me."
They left, heading toward the practice arenas. The captain didn't look surprised in the slightest. It was Corden's way of doing things. Whenever he sensed a new battle ahead, he made sure he was prepared. That meant rigorous training, and extended research. Unlike some other Brion generals, Corden liked to come prepared.
He didn't trust a fool's luck nor even his own considerable strength. All he believed in was his triumph, something he refused to leave to pure chance. He probably knew more than anyone else about the accomplishments of his fellow generals, always studying them, always watching.
"You don't like me, do you, Captain?" he asked calmly.
Soren snapped to attention so quickly he nearly stumbled. His flashing hazel eyes were burning in his face as he stood, the valor squares implanted right into his nervous system blinking confusion.
Corden watched him in silence, took notice of every clue the bright crystals on the other's neck gave him. They were an unparalleled communication system in the galaxy, the only language you couldn't lie in. It was only possible to say nothing.
The crystals were connected to the warrior wearing them, marks of victory and glory. They pulsed light and sound to the outside world when the warrior needed it, alerting nearby enemies and speaking urgent messages to the other Brions.
Every emotion the warrior felt was broadcast to the world, plain to see to everyone who could read it. It was only one of the ways the generals were able to lead thousands of warriors who saw their every weakness—by not having any to show.
Corden watched the captain sweat under his tight scrutiny. He could almost see the thoughts flashing by in Soren's head. The warrior considered whether he'd done something to offend his general. Corden could see Soren's hands aching for the tall battle spear on his back, the signature weapon of their species. The general wore one too..
If the captain drew it, he'd die.
Corden waited with maddening patience until Soren finally, after torturous moments, opened his mouth to say: "No."
That was good. The general had already known as much. It wasn't news to him; very few people liked him. That wasn't what he needed from the captain.
"Do you have plans to challenge me?" Corden asked with the same calm.
Soren looked him straight in the eye, making the general grin. He knew Soren hated him. He was a straight-shooter who often opposed Corden's plans when he didn't understand them.
"No," the captain said, and Corden knew that was the truth as well.
"Why not?" he asked.
It was Soren's turn to grin, the look twisting his features into a grimace.
"You're a bastard, sir," he said, straightening up, ready to accept his punishment. "But you're the finest general the Brions have."
Corden snorted.
"Better than Diego Grothan? Better than the Monster of Briolina?"
"Yes, sir."
"Careful there," Corden said, amused. "They're only a few star systems away. See that they don't hear you."
Soren said nothing and they proceeded to the practice arenas. Despite everything, what the captain had said was the truth as well, in his honest opinion. It was why Corden had decided to trust him with something no one else but him and the Brion Elders knew.
It surprised Soren when he told the captain that.
"Why, sir?" he asked, uncertain.
"Because I might need someone to lead the Claw for a while."
He could see the connections lighting up in Soren's head like beacons.
"You mean to go after General Worgen," the captain said. "If it's really him."
"If it's really him, yes," Corden agreed.
They'd reached the arenas, the great halls with mechs and AIs to help the Brion warriors become even better at war than they naturally were. Corden rounded on his captain so quickly the man didn't even get to blink before the tip of the general's spear was at his throat. His eyes were wide, unbelieving. Not afraid.
Good.
"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Corden asked. "The generals protect Brions from everything that might harm them. Have you never wondered who protects the Brions from the generals?"
CHAPTER TWO
Lana
More reports kept coming in, and they got less funny every time.
Lana had consulted with Terra and her ambassadors at the Galactic Union. The answers were as unsettling as they were puzzling.
Instead of getting some good intel, the few pieces of information that reached her were only bad or weird.
The bad news was that there was definitely something going on. A presence—by some accounts one huge ship, by others a small fleet—was attacking ships all over the galaxy. And despite their best attempts, the Union wasn't able to track it down. Or if Lana understood correctly, tracking was less of a problem than receiving reports back.
Every ship sent to find out what was going on disappeared.
A few of them had managed to send out distress calls before they went silent, but the information they relayed was confusing at best. Lana took it as a personal duty to read through all of them, as clipped and fractured as they were, but ended up none the wiser.
Sure, technically it all fit. A huge ship, dark and looming like death itself. It suited the stories of the Abysmal well, but the lost Brion battleship wasn't the only big vessel in the skies. It proved nothing, but that was no comfort at all. Rumors and fear fueled paranoia more than actual evidence ever could have.
The weird news was that no one could disprove the ghost story. Without actually seeing the person who was behind all of the attacks, it was within the realm of possibility that it was the lost general spreading chaos.
Absolutely fucking unlikely, Lana thought, but still possible.
The Union had started assembling armies to bring the person responsible to justice, but the Brions had interfered. It seemed they took the rumors very seriously. Their promise to handle whoever was behind the attacks served as a warning as well. If Brions thought the threat was real, most of the Union was relived to stay as far away from the conflict as possible.
Lana took comfort in the fact that Fraly agreed with her. The Palian had been acting odd ever since the first report came, but so far Lana had let him be. She had a good working relationship and an understanding with him, very like the one Terra shared with the Palians in general.
They both had the best interests of the galaxy in mind, which made them natural allies. That meant not delving too deeply into each other's secrets when it wasn't necessary.
Fraly said nothing about the reason for his unease, but he was one of the few that agreed with Lana. The others were either terrified or dismissive, which was a common sight on a rogue ship whose crew saw much of the galaxy's darker side. Lana had
let that be as well, not wanting to cause panic without reason.
And now she was reading that the unseen enemy was targeting more and more Terran ships. Looking for them, in fact. Seeking them out with clear purpose.
That was the most unsettling thing about the whole affair to Lana. The Brions as a species had little to do with Terra. Other than the recent news of a few Brion generals unexpectedly binding to human women, the two species barely had any contact at all.
She didn't like it.
Lately, the Brion Elders had started nudging their terrible, bloodied species in a new direction, hoping to mend ancient wounds of war and carnage. Lana was ready to admit that even the famous generals were trying to appear less savage these days. That made dealing with the Brions almost tolerable, even if she still felt the hairs stand up at the back of her neck whenever she had to meet one.
They embodied raw, barely controlled rage, no matter what they claimed to be.
General Worgen and his lost ship... that was something different.
He—if it was really him, a ghost of days long past—was not the new kind of Brion, ferocious but benevolent. Worgen was a relic, the manifestation of the dark days in the Brion history. Lana had read up extensively on him, all the legends and stories she could get her hands on, just in case.
Every word made her blood turn to ice and turned her dreams into nightmares. The stories didn't describe a man, but a monster. The kind that couldn't be stopped.
"Captain," Fraly interrupted her, entering her rooms after a polite knock.
Lana looked up, sitting behind her desk with the screen in front of her still showing the last paragraphs of the report she'd been reading.
"Yes," she said. "Have we arrived at the beacon?"
The Palian confirmed that. A few hours ago, they'd picked up a distress signal, coming from the Terran trade ship Wanderer. It was far off course, but even more so, it was close to a spot where an attack had taken place. Lana had immediately ordered a change of course.
She'd done so with a heavy heart, but an easy conscience. It was her job to go and check out situations like that, to see if she could solve them quickly and without casualties.
On the other hand, if there was even a shred of truth to the rumors, she was putting her crew in danger they couldn't possibly hope to match. The Raptor had guns, of course, but they would be practically useless against a Brion warship. Years ago, Lana had seen one of them, so huge they said it could tear through asteroid fields, pushing celestial bodies out of the way. Like moons.
The captain took one last look at the screens. For weeks, she'd tried to keep her crew's spirits up by joking they'd get to meet the intergalactic Flying Dutchman. Of course, only the human members of her crew understood that, but they explained it to the others as well as they could. It did make them feel better for a while, as fleeting as the feeling might have been.
Lana closed the screens, willing herself to focus on the task ahead. She'd find the beacon and the Wanderer and escort them back to safety.
"You seem worried, Captain," Fraly said when they were walking.
Lana sighed, smiling. "It's the agony of waiting, as Terrans say. I don't like it. I want to know. If it turns out to be another ghost scare, fine, we'll deal with the bastard. If it is Worgen, fine, we'll deal with a long-dead invincible Brion general as well."
Fraly smirked, nodding.
"I get that," he said. "It's always better to know what you're facing, even if it is bad."
"So," Lana said, changing the topic. "How's the Wanderer? Is the ship intact?"
"It's not the Wanderer itself," Fraly said. "It's only one of its escape pods. And Captain—this time we have a survivor."
***
The Raptor was pulling the pod in. Lana stood on the bay deck, watching the little cone being dragged in by the magnetic arms extending from her ship.
It was really nothing more than a box, she noticed. A cone small enough to house one person, if they were hunched. There was a survivor, a witness, Fraly had said. Lana wondered how they'd managed to sleep or eat in that thing. From what she gathered, it had been days since the pod launched from the Wanderer.
The bay workers ripped the doors open and a figure—a young girl—stumbled out. For a moment, she looked around her and then practically collapsed on the floor. Lana rushed over, catching the girl in her arms. Her features were pale and it was clear she was malnourished, and probably exhausted.
Her eyes were wide open, terrified. Lana didn't think for a second that she was the cause of that fear. No, she'd been right to suspect something was amiss.
"Leave," the girl whispered before she could say anything. "Run."
"Relax," Lana said, "we are here to help you. Tell us where your ship is and we can go and—"
The girl was shaking her head so hard she nearly twisted herself out of Lana's grasp.
"No, no," she said frantically. "We have to go now. It might be too late already. You can't help, no one can help. He is here."
He.
"Who are you talking about?" Lana asked, knowing the answer already. "Who attacked the Wanderer?"
"HIM," the girl almost screamed. "Worgen. I saw him when they took the ship. He walked by right in front of me when he was looking for his fated. His eyes were completely black and his skin was burning, I could see it..."
Well, that is going to do wonders for morale, Lana thought. I should have questioned her in private.
She stood, helping the shivering girl stand as well.
"You need rest," Lana said, hoping to salvage what was left of the situation. "We can talk more once you've had some food and a good night's sleep."
"You don't understand," the girl pleaded. "He's coming, he might be here already. Nothing will stop him until he finds his fated."
That's the second time you've said that.
"Worgen is looking for his gesha?" Lana asked.
"Yes," the girl said, sighing in relief. "You see now? We have to go. Hurry! He's heard of all the Brion generals binding to human girls. He wants one too, to be more powerful than ever. Ship after ship, he's looking for her. That's why he attacks Terran ships."
Oh, wonderful. Just when I thought she couldn't say anything more damaging. Now they know we have a crazed maniac on our trail, looking for a bride, Lana thought, barely suppressing the eyeroll she felt coming on.
She sent the girl off to sleep, despite her desperate pleas that they should run at once. To ease her growing concerns, Lana took the next watch on the bridge. The monitors showed nothing, but the emptiness unnerved her.
"Do you feel it?" she asked Fraly, who was standing loyally by her side. "The gun pointed at our heads?"
The Palian nodded, a grim smirk on his lips. It was an unusual expression for him, but considering the situation, it fit.
"The scans came up empty?" he asked.
"Yeah," Lana said, checking for what had to be a hundredth time. "Nothing near us. Not the Wanderer, not any other ship. The first signal I can find is the Gromus Station, five times the distance a pod like that could fly."
The bridge was almost empty except for them. In anticipation of trouble, Lana had ordered everyone to sleep. They were on the verge of something, she could feel it. The pod they'd picked up shouldn't have been where it was. There was no ship that could have dropped it anywhere near them.
"I feel like a fish that just swallowed the bait," she murmured.
Fraly didn't have time to respond before the space slipped away on the screens in front of them. For one mad second, Lana thought that the Raptor had somehow jumped into hyperspace, because all the stars disappeared. There was no light, only darkness. In a completely absurd way, she felt like the Raptor had run into a wall, in space.
The truth was much worse. A cloaking shield had slipped away from a ship right in front of her, the huge front screen of the command bridge showing it to be so close the captain imagined she could almost reach out her hand and touch the surface.
It w
as obsidian black, rough and horrible, and scarred from ancient battles.
The nightmare was over. It had made a swift journey from her dreams to reality, but surprisingly it didn't bring fear. Lana found herself peculiarly calm, focused. The worst had happened, and now all she had to do was deal with it. She checked the monitors, now picking up multiple contacts, a whole fleet of them.
As well as a very ominous message that couldn't possibly be misinterpreted. Don't run, the warship warned. Any message you transmit will be your last words. Looking at the guns as long as her entire ship, Lana was forced to agree.
"Wake the crew," she ordered. "Get the Raptor ready, we're about to be boarded. Every human female needs to hide, immediately."
Her second hesitated only for a moment.
"Captain, what about you?" he asked.
Lana grinned. "I'm staying right here."
As Fraly rushed to obey, she slowly walked to the front panel of the bridge, if only to confirm to herself that her eyes really weren't playing tricks on her. But there it was, right on the prow of a ship larger than any she'd ever seen.
One word, in gigantic, red letters taller than her.
Abysmal.
CHAPTER THREE
Lana
Getting the Raptor ready was more like a joke than actual preparation for battle, but it helped. Lana made no illusions to herself. Her ship was the best little vessel there was, but it had been built for subterfuge and stealth missions. Usually her job included lightning-quick strikes, rescue missions, and so on. Not taking on a Brion warship.
It could blow her to pieces in one barrage, Lana had no doubt of that. But it gave her terrified crew something to do rather than go mad with fear. Over the comms, Lana coordinated her main mission, which was to hide the part of her crew that the enemy might be interested in. She'd be damned if she let anyone cart off her friends and subordinates like war trophies, only to see if one of them fit the bill.
Distantly, Lana was aware she was in the same kind of danger, but she pushed that aside. She was the captain of the ship and wouldn't be found hiding when the enemy breached the Raptor.