Caged Slayer: A Dark SciFi Romance

Chapter 1

Drogan

The Badlands stretch out around us, formless wastes of space junk and shining coronas. It’s pretty fucking amazing that the formations idiot rich passengers pay to see are actually created by garbage.

We’re at cruising speed as I sit back in my chair, surveying the screens ahead of us. My pilot, Darvin has his hands firmly on the controls to keep her at a steady pace.

Tracking the Doom could be said to be a fool’s errand. She’s the only reaper ship with stealth capability and she can be practically invisible for hours without affecting her energy stores. 

I’m no fool, but I intend to catch that ship.

Since the destruction of Oshara, we have not made alliances or helped each other in any way. Ships stuck together at first, trying to build a community. They got blasted to hell by the Alliance and the Coalition coming to finish the job in wiping out the Ishana. They broke apart, went in separate directions and hoped that something of the race would survive.

The dark ages came next and something did survive. It is brutal and it is savage, but it is alive.

Reapers. 

I have never seen a reaper female, but I know they exist. Occasionally you meet a reaper who remembers his mother. It’s rare. In those dark times when the ships broke apart and scattered, the women were lost. Most of us don’t even know how. Those years are soaked in blood and death, etched in our ancestral memory. 

Once we started tearing each other apart, we came up with the bright idea to make killing each other a crime. That hasn’t worked out so well. We always find ways around it and to be fair, you rarely find a reaper that will care enough to enforce it.

Killing each other, tearing apart other ships for scrap, stealing loot, that’s one thing.

Joining up to go on suicide missions, that’s a great big what the fuck right there.

I clench my fist on the armrest and feel the tension run through my body.

“Where are you, Slade?” I mutter it softly, but my first mate Benton shudders all the same. No one wants to piss me off. Some of my crew agree with what we’re doing here, some don’t. They all know not to fuck with me, either way.

Goran is mad. He is out of his fucking mind. Ever since he killed old Killarn, the Killswitch has been slowly going to hell. His pet is leading him around by the balls and losing his brother made him fucking soft. 

He needs to be taken out and there are few reapers who disagree. The Killswitch is too big and heavily armored to be left in the hands of a madman. Plenty of us want to get ahold of that skinny little bitch pet of his and teach her a lesson or two as well.

Still, going after the Killswitch is suicide for most reaper captains. Old Killarn worked tirelessly on converting an original colony ship into an unstoppable war machine. Like most reaper ships, it’s patched together from tons of salvaged pieces, but the driving force behind her construction was war.

We want Goran and we’ll get him. But first we want to hunt down Slade. The Doom is small and fast, but she isn’t well shielded and only has a few weapons. Rather than go after Goran and get squished, we’ve decided to get close to Slade and find out exactly what the fuck happened on Hylo.

Insanity. Fucking murderous chaos. Why the fuck would any reaper do something so fucking stupid? Hitting a ship, a port, that’s just what we do. Blowing a whole fucking planet? Attracting the attention of the entire Helion Combine? They are fucking hunting us all now. 

Every reaper is totally fucking fucked, and we want some revenge and some goddamn fucking answers. If we get Slade, we should be able to torture the story out of him and find out more about what Goran’s doing and how we can infiltrate him. Even though we abhor the thought of allying with each other, it may turn out to be the only option.

The Combine will force us together, if won’t make roads towards it ourselves. Yeah, we want to find Slade and fuck him up. Our main purpose though is to get to Goran. If a captain with a few brain cells left gets into the captain’s chair of the Killswitch, he could manage to save what few reapers are left from getting blown to hell.

But with Goran in his recently erected little throne, no one is safe. That cunt honestly thinks he rules the Badlands and that is a very dangerous spot to be in.

My ship, the Hatchet is fast and well armored with a good set of weapons. She’s sparse on the comfort and heavy on efficiency. She can’t go against the Killswitch, but she can take on the Doom with even terms. 

I know that fucker Slade is around here somewhere. If we have to track him until I literally run into him, that’s what I’ll fucking do.

Off to the side out of a port window, there is a shimmer against the iridescent back drop.

“What the fuck is that?” I point out the window. Benton is quick to answer.

“It’s the Vice sir. Keeping even speed to us, she jumped in from far space.”

I rub my chin, thinking. Captain Vishar is a mad prick. He could do just about anything. I’m tempted to open comms and have a chat. It looks like we might both be here to do the same thing.

It’s a sad day when kicking other reapers butts keeps you from good looting, partying and fucking. Goran and Slade have pretty much fucked up everyone’s lives and it’s good to see I’m not the only one who thinks so.

I don’t want to make a deal with Vishar though. If I find the Doom first, I’m stealing her cloaking gear. I’m not sharing the salvage of that ship for anything.

“Stay the course, Darvin.”

“What?”

All that comes out between my lips is a low growl.

“Sorry sir.” Darvin quickly amends. 

I wait for someone else to ask me what we’re doing, but no one does. The Vice cruises through the sky not far away and I grin, thinking that Vishar is not hailing us, either. Reaper pride. It never fucking fails.

I think we all know that the blade is hanging above our necks. It’s only a matter of time until the Combine start shredding our asses. The hit on Hylo was just too much. Even with that backlash coming though, it’s not like reapers are just going to hold hands and cooperate.

The Vice doesn’t change her course, just keeps hanging around on our wing. It’s like a really spectacular game of chicken, the way we cruise in the same direction while trying not to acknowledge the others’ presence.

I’ll hail him soon. If we both want Slade, I’d rather coordinate with Vishar then have him in my way or up my ass. We can always double cross him later.

Then my little ship starts twisting like she’s being held in the grip of some giant demon. I’m thrown to the floor with several others. Red lights and alarms start blaring from every room.

“What the fuck?” I roar as I leap to my feet.

“We’ve been hit sir!” Benton yells.

“I know that you fuckwit!” My voice tears the air as I claw back into my chair. The ship shudders beneath me, trying to throw me back on to the floor again.

“Hit him! Hit Vishar with everything we’ve got left! Fuck that mother fucking cunt!”

“He didn’t hit us sir. He’s turning back towards us… To help. I think.”

For a moment I can find my voice. My hands grip the chair so hard it cracks under my fingertips.

“What hit us?”

The navigator, Capkar, looks over his shoulder nervously.

“What fucking hit us!” I scream at him.

“Helios fighter sir.” Benton says matter of factly. “Small military vessel. Fully armed. She’s here to take us out, captain.”

“The fuck they are.” I get to my feet, watching everything going down across the screens.

This is it. This is what we feared. Goran stirred up so much of a fucking ruckus, now they have come looking for us. They might be afraid of the Badlands, but they are angry enough now to overcome their fear.

From their perspective, it is less risky to come here to attack than to sit at home and wait for us to hit them.

This is the mayhem that Goran has wrought, and he is going to pay for it.