Gripping the cold steel of the beam overhead, I held tight as the ship rocketed across the hangar bay floor and burst out into space, banking hard and approaching the enemy freighter. The ship looked even more weathered up close, the dull exterior dented and scarred with scorch marks. My lust for battle dampened as I noticed the meager weapons attached to the hull. This was no war ship, I thought, as disappointment choked me.
“Their shields have been disabled, Raas.” My first officer twisted his neck to look back at me, his dark brows lifted. “They have issued a surrender.”
Low murmuring passed through my warriors, and I suspected they were thinking what I was—this would not be a battle after all. This was clearly not a ship filled with warriors ready to engage us in battle if they had already surrendered. I doubted its crew were trained warriors, and it was even less probable that this ship had been tasked with moving armaments. The Zagrath would not be foolish enough to trust anything crucial to such a battered old freighter. We were probably preparing to attack a ship carrying blankets and grain.
“Zagrath supplies are still Zagrath supplies,” I said, to quell their frustration and my own. “But we will hold our blades unless provoked.”
“Working for the Zagrath is provocation enough.” Corvak’s voice was gravelly.
I agreed, but I also knew that not all under the empire’s rule had the freedom we did or the deadly reputation that struck fear in the hearts of anyone who encountered us. Nevertheless, the Vandar raiders were feared because we punished those who stood with the empire. We could not back down or show weakness. Weak warriors did not spend eternity in Zedna with Lokken and the other ancient gods of battle.
“They have surrendered,” I said. “But that does not mean they will escape punishment for their alliance with the empire. Blood will be shed for their treacherous act.”
Nods and grunts of agreement followed my statement, although I noticed Corvak frown. As was fitting his title, he was only content when engaged in a full-scale battle, and his body boasted the scars to prove it.
Our shuttle jolted as it latched onto the enemy freighter, our docking pincers holding the ship in place as it forced the hangar bay open. I held my breath, part of me hoping the surrender was a ruse and there would be phaser fire as we entered the enemy ship, but the hangar bay was deserted.
We rushed out in a swarm, moving in our practiced formation with shields in front. The ship was not nearly as large as ours, but it was brighter, with amber lights flickering overhead as we moved swiftly down the passageways. I flinched from the unnatural brightness, my eyes adjusting. Why did these aliens like to feel as if they were on a glowing star?
Exposed piping hissed, and the hull seemed to groan without provocation as we moved through the cramped ship. The scent of fuel hung thick in the air, along with the smell of scorched steel, no doubt from the hits they’d taken from us.
I swallowed my disappointment at the sad state of the ship we were taking. No weapons, no warriors. It was almost not worth our time.
“A cargo bay, Raas,” one of my warriors said, pointing to a set of doors.
I jerked my head at him and another warrior. “Assess the value and prepare to transport anything worth taking.”
“Where are their warriors?” Bron asked, his voice low so only I could hear him as we continued moving. “Is this a trap?”
“I think we both know it is not.” My own fingers twitched over my axe, but cold realization was settling hard in my stomach. There would be no battle today.
Ahead a figure appeared then quickly ran ahead and disappeared around a corner.
“A human, not a Zagrath,” my majak said, disappointment heavy in his voice. Even though the difference was subtle, it was important.
It was rumored that the humanoid Zagrath were descended from the original people who fled the planet Earth, although they did not call themselves Earthlings now. They’d been part of what had been called the one-percenters. With their sophisticated technology, considerable resources, and even greater greed, these elite humans had dubbed themselves the Zagrath and built an empire, with the mission to colonize and monetize as many planets as possible. They’d also used their wealth to enhance their genetics, so they were slightly larger than humans, with a longer life span. But, they were still no match for the mighty Vandar.
“It matters not,” Corvak growled.
But it did. The other humans who populated the galaxy had been desperate escapees from a dying planet, and they did not have the advantages of the Zagrath. Even with only a fleeting glance, I knew that was one of the smaller humans, and the disappointment nearly choked me.
When we reached the doors to their command deck, two of my warriors rushed through first, battle axes held high beside their shields. When I rushed in after them, the war cry that had been on my lips died. Instead of Zagrath soldiers, or even a rough mercenary crew of aliens, there were a handful of humans sitting at consoles, their eyes wide with fear as they watched us storm their command deck. And standing in front of them was a female who looked like she would have liked to kill all of us.
A female. A human female.
Tvek, I cursed to myself at our bad luck. So much for a day of valiant battle.
Chapter Three
Astrid
All the air left my body when the Vandar raiders stormed onto our bridge, their boots pounding so loudly that it drowned out the sound of my own thudding heart.
Crap. They were even bigger than I imagined. It didn’t help that they were dressed like some kind of space-age Vikings, with leather and metal the only things covering their massive, bronze bodies corded with muscle. Long, dark tails snapped behind them—the ends tipped with black fur—reminding me that they were definitely not human, although the rest of them seemed pretty human, if not full-on medieval. Even the weapons they brandished looked ancient, and I wondered for a moment how these aliens had managed to terrorize the galaxy. How could a bunch of brutes like this take on the Zagrath Empire and not get blown out of the sky?
Then I remembered that their ships could vanish at will, and were rumored to have impressive firepower. So, they must have been more technologically advanced than they looked. I swallowed hard as my gaze drifted over the long black hair that matched their inky-black eyes and the dark markings etched across their bare chests. If I remembered the rumors I’d heard correctly, Vandar were born with the swirling, black lines, and they had something to do with their mating ritual. I tore my gaze away from them, not wanting to think about these brutes and anything to do with mating. Their unusually large, muscular thighs—displayed through strips of leather worn as some sort of short skirt—were distracting enough.
“Who leads this ship?” One of the raiders stepped forward as he spoke the universal language, and I saw that he was slightly taller and broader than the others, if that was possible. His jaw was square, and his hair brushed back, but loose. He was the only one with a single shoulder covered by a cap of metal armor with a strap crossing his chest, and I assumed he was their leader.
He radiated authority, his feet set wide as he appraised our bridge. He had not drawn his battle axe, but instead tapped his fingers rhythmically on the handle. Even though his muscles were taut, his words were measured.