She hadn’t moved, her arms straight and rigid and her hands curled around the armrests of her chair. Her chin jutted up and her shoulders were squared. She knew the evil that approached, and she planned to meet it with the same steely determination she’d always had, and I’d always admired.
I attempted to catch her eyes, but her gaze was fixed over me. As the pounding of boots on the metal floor grew louder, she tilted her head up almost imperceptibly. “Let them come.”
Chapter Two
Kratos
“It’s some sort of freighter.” My battle chief leaned against the dark standing console, as he glanced down at the readouts.
I rocked back on the heels of my boots, peering out the front of my warbird at the outmatched space vessel we were pursuing. “I can see that. Is it Zagrath?”
“It’s not an empire ship, but it looks like it has Zagrath access identifiers,” Corvak said after stealing another look at his blinking screen.
“Tvek,” I cursed, a low growl escaping my lips. “That means it’s carrying cargo for the empire. Could be guns or supplies to keep our enemy well-stocked to ravage more planets like ours.”
Other dark rumbles of anger from my command deck warriors joined mine. I didn’t need to look at my crew to know the fury on my warriors’ faces.
My gaze locked on the battered ship we were chasing. It didn’t look like much, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. Any ship moving supplies around the massive, Zagrath Empire was a threat to the freedom of those not wishing to live under choking empirical rule. I clenched a fist tightly as I thought about the greedy empire that had taken over our planet generations ago and forced our nomadic warrior people to take to space.
“How long until we’re within firing range?” I asked, assessing quickly that the freighter was no match for our advanced weaponry.
I knew that my horde was massed behind us, flying in the amoeba attack formation that we preferred, the sleek ships shifting positions intermittently. We’d dropped our invisibility shielding when we’d determined that the ship we were pursuing was no threat, so it was standard procedure to fly in amoeba to make us harder to target.
“Closing in now. Should I prepare a torpedo, Raas Kratos?” My battle chief addressed me by my full Vandar title, as he always did when confirming an attack.
I glanced at the warrior who was also my cousin, his black hair tied back. Corvak was so eager to fire, but I preferred to mete out our violence in controlled doses.
I strode a few steps closer to the view screen that stretched across the front of the command deck, my leather kilt slapping my bare thighs. Something about the ship piqued my attention, and I wanted to know why it had flown into our territory when most ships went out of their way to avoid us. Were they exceptionally daring or exceptionally stupid?
“No.” I crossed my arms, the crossbody strap that kept my steel shoulder armor in place digging into my flesh. “They might have valuable cargo. We’ll board them.”
Another rumble passed through my command deck crew like a wave—one of anticipation. We hadn’t boarded a ship in a while, and the possibility of battle fired their lust for enemy blood. I know it fired mine.
I turned and took long steps back across the command deck, nodding at my first officer and Corvak as I passed them. “You’re with me.”
They both grunted in acknowledgement, spinning on their heels to join me, the leather of their kilts catching air and their long tails swishing. Like all Vandar raiders, they were bare-chested, black hair spilling long down their broad backs, and inky markings curling across their chest muscles. Thick, metal-studded belts held their kilts in place, and deadly battle axes hung from them.
I flicked my gaze at another warrior at a standing console. “You have the command deck. Lock onto that ship and get us into position for boarding.”
He snapped his heels together and threw his shoulders back. “Yes, Raas.”
My battle chief stole a glance at me as we left the command deck and descended a wide staircase, our heavy footfall echoing off the iron and steel that made up our warbird. “You have not led a boarding party in some time, Raas.”
“Too long,” I said, to halt any more queries into my motivations.
He gave a curt nod, understanding that the matter was not up for further discussion. Although I was a fair Raas, and welcomed my warrior’s input, I did not wish to discuss why I wanted to board this insignificant ship personally. I myself did not fully understand.
As we descended farther into the ship, winding through the labyrinth of open-weave, cage-like corridors and pounding down more stairs, my pulse quickened. It had been too long since I had tasted battle, and the anticipation of striking another blow to the Zagrath Empire made my fingers buzz as they rested on the hilt of my axe.
The warriors who walked astride with me had been part of my crew since I took command as the raider horde’s warlord, or Raas. It had been many rotations since I’d assumed the command after my father, and we had the most victories of any of the other Vandar warlords, but we were still a long way from passing on our battle axes to a new crew. I knew our people’s traditions, but I could not imagine ever giving up the life of a raider to live out my days on one of the secret Vandar settlements, far from the empire and the bloody battles that had become as natural to me as breathing.
“What should I tell the rest of the horde?” My majak, Bron, asked.
“Maintain formation and keep weapons trained on the enemy vessel. They may be hiding their capabilities and be more deadly than they appear.” I hoped that was the case, my heart beating faster at the thought.
“It is done,” he said with a sharp nod, before striding to a console outside the hangar bay and relaying my orders.
My majak had ordered a squad of warriors to meet us at the hangar bay, and they were waiting when we strode through the wide doors, their fierce faces just as alight with desire. We all needed a battle. Needed to think we were weakening our enemy. The enemy that seemed to keep coming, no matter how long we fought against it.
When we reached the shuttle ramp, I paused, turning to face my warriors. “All glory to Lokken, god of old.”
“Glory to Lokken,” my warriors replied, solemnly.
Then I grinned. “Are you ready to slash another hole in the belly of the beast?”
Wide grins spilt their faces as they roared their answer. “For Vandar!”
It had been our war cry for as long as our people had been roaming the wilds of our planet, moving in hordes and battling for control of the land. When we’d been forced to abandon our planet, we had held tight to our traditions. Even now—generations later—our ships traveled in groups of ten or more warbirds, all commanded by a single warlord. We wore the battle clothing of our ancient ancestors and carried their weapons, although we had also developed sophisticated technology for our ships and had phasers attached to our belts, as well as battle axes.
“For Vandar!” The bellows of my warriors reverberated through my own body, making my blood heat and my heart hammer in my chest, as I ran up the ramp to the shuttle with my Vandar brothers close on my heels. We all pulled curved shields off the walls of the ship where they were stored for battle. Bron took the helm while I stood behind, my eyes fixed on the wide opening leading into the blackness beyond.