Brute

Chapter 1

Mehr

The stars shine like eyes as we sail into Infinity, reflecting whatever emotion the observer chooses to see. To my high-strung helmsman, Krunk, they no doubt gleam with menace as would an enemy’s gaze. Even as he carefully plots our course to Stavros 5 with nimble taps of his long, spur knuckled fingers I see the tension stiffening his shoulders.

To my first mate Dagra, the gleaming celestial gaze represents the fear-ridden eyes of the conquered, or soon to be conquered. He stands behind my station, hands rasping into fists as if preparing for battle.

And to me, those same stars mean…loneliness. To captain a ship is to be alone, no matter how many slaves one has to warm one’s bed. No matter how many capable warriors stand ready to carry out one’s every whim. Would that I could bury myself in work as Krunk does, or to dream of glory as Dagra.

All that I know is that the formation of our Empire has fostered many changes. We, the Followers of the Emerald Moon, pride ourselves on being not only able to adapt to change, but to thrive in its wake. Change brings opportunity, after all. 

Were we not the first of the Kurse clans to foster trade relations with the League? We are the wealthiest of the clans…no, not clans. Kingdoms. Another change. 

“Primus Mehr.” I turn my annoyed gaze toward a Reaper half breed named Tora. His bone spurs are blunted, much like his wit. “Primus Mehr—”

My hand darts out like a sting tail’s strike, grasping his slender throat and cutting off both air and speech.

“I will tell you this once more, Tora,” I growl. “Imperial protocol notwithstanding, you will address me as Captain. Clear?”

He can’t answer verbally, with my hand compressing his windpipe. My fingers sink in deeply, drawing a line of blood which runs in a rivulet down to his emerald uniform and fills in the induction port intended for power armor attachment. Tora manages to nod his head, barely. I drop him to the deck plating, where he grasps his neck and coughs.

“Your display of weakness displeases me,” I rumble. “Tell me what is so important it brought you in here hollering like a primate?”

“There is—aah—a message, sir,” he says in a rasping voice. “Priority alpha, from Legate Rul.”

“I will take it at my station,” I say, turning to depress the key. It glows amber for a moment, and then the familiar blue holo sphere appears and coalesces into the translucent image of a face and head. My mouth drops open in astonishment, because instead of Rul’s familiar twisted spur-covered features I behold a female….and a human female at that. Lovely, though the thick glasses she wears obscure a bit of her azure eyes.

“What is the meaning of this outrage?” I blurt. “Why dares a slave to contact me on the Legate’s private channel?”

“My apologies, Captain Mehr,” she says, bowing her head in a display of both submission and respect. “Legate Rul is my mate and Master. He bade me contact you on an urgent matter as he is coordinating the evacuation of Stavros Five.”

“Evacuation?” I turn to Dagra but he is as confused as I. “I had thought the Legate had subdued the planet and destroyed the Helios fleet which had come to reclaim it?”

“He did, but there was a complication. Stavros Five hid a dark secret, a Phoenix nested deep within the crust.”

“A Phoenix?” I turn to my operations officer. “Scan the Stavros system for signs of the firebird.” 

A single Phoenix could wipe out my entire fleet. I have good reason to worry.

“The Phoenix has departed the system near as I can discern,” the slave says over holo comms. “Our evacuation is predicated by the seismic disruptions caused by the bird’s passage. Long dormant volcanoes are erupting all over the moon.”

“And how do you propose I stop them?” I ask, spreading my arms wide. “Our vessels possess powerful weaponry, but I can’t see where it would do anything but cause further harm.”

Her blue eyes glitter with a feverish passion. “It’s not your ship’s weapons that will save the resources of Stavros Five for the Empire, but your ships themselves. Right now, your outer hulls are 2.9 degrees Kelvin. If you entered the magma tunnels running through the crust, you could lower the temperature of the molten rock enough to slow its passage. Hopefully turning violent eruptions into minor, ah, temper tantrums if you will.”

I consider her plan. I am no scientist, but this woman seems to know of what she speaks. Rul would not have designated her his proxy were this not so.

“Very well, but even with our reinforced hulls there is a possibility we will be destroyed.”

“I didn’t say it was without risk,” she says slowly. “But Legate Rul wanted me to point out it’s an opportunity for great glory.”

I tilt my head back and laugh.

“Take this message back to your mate and Master,” I say with a sneer. “Tell him that we will enact this insane plan of yours, and tell him one other thing; That we of the Bukilose clan do not merely achieve glory…”

I sweep my gaze and my grin about the bridge, encompassing my crew. 

“…we Define Glory!”

A raucous cheer erupts from the crew, many pump their fists in the air. I turn to my first mate.

“Hail the rest of our fleet and explain the plan. Tell them to utilize gravitational thrusters only. We don’t want to heat up the very magma we are meant to cool.”

“It will be done, Captain,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting his chin downward. “For the glory of the Empire.”

“Stavros Five in visual range, Captain,” Krunk says, licking his lips. “Are we truly going to plunge into the heart of a volcano?”

“We are,” I say firmly. “Bring Stavros Five up on screen.”

A holo graphic overlays the glassteel viewing ports on the front of the Kraken. Stavros Five hangs in the abyss, dwarfed by the swirling green and copper gas giant it orbits. Venting debris and gasses obscure some of its fish belly white crust. I use the holo pointer built into my glove to send a beam of red light to one of the larger calderas.

“There, helm. That will make an excellent place to enter the crust. It is good this moon lacks an atmosphere, or our hulls would heat up during entry.”

“Course is set, Captain.”

“Mate, have you transmitted my orders to the fleet?”

“I have, Captain.”

“Divide them into squads of ten and spread them over the moon’s surface. We plunge into destiny, men.”

The Kraken’s nose angles for the gaping maw of the volcano, plunging into billowing ash which, bereft of atmosphere, spreads like a plague. We descend into the darkness, our way lighted only by sensors.

Here is where a good helmsman is worth his weight in Makra honey. Krunk’s fingers flash at incredible speeds, sweat stands out on his spur crowned brow as he strives to keep our vector far from the walls of the magma tubes.

The inertial dampeners strain to the utmost, dimming lights on the bridge as they draw power from non-critical systems, yet the Kraken still lurches hard when we strike the glowing red sea of burbling lava.

I grasp the console to hold myself upright, but Tora falls to his rump. 

“Find your sea legs, young fool!” My first mate snaps.

Our going is slow, like pushing through honey. Rumbles like thunder reach our ears and reverberate the hull itself, caused by the others of my squadron plunging into the fiery depths.

“The tube narrows up ahead, Captain,” Ops shouts.

“How much leeway do we have?”

“Less than a meter on either side.”

The first mate and I exchange glances.

“I can do it, Captain,” Krunk says firmly.

“Then proceed,” I say. “And don’t scratch the paint.”

Laughter bubbles up from my men, tinged with nervousness. No ship in recorded history has ever done anything so bold as this. I hope the human slave mate knows what she is talking about, or our lives will end here.

Sweat glistens on the skin of every man on the bridge as the temperature inside the hull rises --an unavoidable consequence of this scheme. I can only hope the Kraken can survive. If not, we have had a glorious run.

The holo globe shimmers with the woman’s face once again, interference scrambling the signal, garbling her words beyond recognition.

“Ops, clean up the transmission.”

“I’m trying Captain, but the magma is interfering with our signal strength.”

“I did not ask for excuses, I demand results.”

His eyes widen with fear. He taps fervently on the keys at his console. The woman’s image clears.

“—seismic activity has dwindled to non-critical levels, Captain. Get your ships out of there. I implore you. My calculations suggest you won’t last much longer.”

“All power to forward grav thrusters,” I shout. “Reverse course, all ships.”

Once we enter the larger caldera, the Kraken pivots on its axis and shoots for the surface. We erupt from the smoke and debris, our hulls glowing red hot from the plunge into the magma.

“The human woman is right, Captain,” Ops says, his mouth agape. “The volcanic activity is subsiding.”

“Excellent. Arrange with ground control to set us down on the surface to begin repairs. Mate, did we lose any of our fleet?”

“Two ships, Captain, the Vengeance and the Tirade.”

“Then we sing now and warn the afterlife that brave and deadly Reaper warriors will soon join their ranks.

I tilt my head back. My crew’s voices join mine to keen the Deathsong. We have achieved great glory this day. No…we have defined glory once again, though at the cost of our brethren.

Glory to the Empire. Glory to the Kraken. 

And Glory to her Captain.