Naga General’s Mate (Nagas of Nirum #2)

Chapter 1

Brivul

The target lock alert chimed through the Niri warship. Brivul’s blue scales glinted under the red emergency lights as he coiled his massive serpentine tail around the command chair. The pirate vessel grew larger on the viewscreen.

“Weapons status,” Brivul barked, his violet eyes fixed on the threat.

“All systems charged and ready, General.” Cantos’s fingers flew across the tactical console.

Brivul’s jaw clenched. The civilian transport’s distress beacon pulsed on his readout—over two hundred souls aboard, easy prey for the pirates closing in on them.

“Not on my watch,” Brivul muttered. He rose to his full height, towering over his crew. “Nia, status of their weapons?”

“Reading multiple missile batteries powering up. They’re prepping to disable the transport’s engines.”

“Kev, get me a targeting solution on their weapon systems.”

“Already done, sir.”

The ship hummed with tension. Brivul’s tail tip twitched—the only outward sign of his contained fury. These pirates had grown bold, thinking the shipping lanes around Nirum were easy pickings.

“Fikleo, push more power to forward shields. When they realize we’re here, they’ll try to run.”

“Shields at maximum, General.”

“Sir, they’re launching missiles at the transport,” Cantos called out.

“Not today.” Brivul’s voice carried an edge of steel. “All batteries, target those missiles.”

The crew’s movements sharpened, each member operating with practiced precision. This was why Brivul had chosen them—the best of the best, ready to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

“Weapons locked, General,” Cantos confirmed.

“On my mark,” Brivul instructed. His muscles coiled, ready for action. The civilian transport’s scared transmissions filled the comm channel. Time to remind these pirates why the name General Brivul still commanded respect.

“Fire!” The command rolled from Brivul’s throat as his ship’s weapons blazed to life.

Energy beams lanced through space, intercepting the pirates’ missiles in a spectacular display of precision.

“Direct hits on all missiles,” Kev reported. “Transport is safe for now.”

“Now for the hunters.” Brivul’s tail coiled tighter around his command chair. “Target their engines. Let’s see how they like being helpless.”

The pirate vessel banked hard, finally aware of the predator in their midst. Their shields flickered to life—too late.

“They’re making a run for the atmosphere,” Nia called out.

“Perfect.” A cold smile spread across Brivul’s face. “Follow them in. Lors, calculate their descent trajectory.”

The chase led them into Nirum’s upper atmosphere. The pirate ship’s engines left a trail of plasma, their desperate attempt to escape only making them more vulnerable.

“They’re losing altitude control,” Cantos reported. “That last hit damaged their stabilizers.”

Brivul watched the tactical display with satisfaction. The pirates would have to land—or crash. Either way, this ended on the ground.

“Sir, the civilian transport is following our descent vector,” Nia said.

“Good.” Brivul straightened further.

The planet’s surface rushed up to meet them, forests and mountains taking shape through the clouds. The pirate vessel wobbled, smoke trailing from its wounded engines.

“They’re setting down in the Kiral Valley,” Lors announced.

“Prepare ground teams.” Brivul’s eyes narrowed. “These pirates thought they could prey on our people. Time to show them the error of their ways.”

The ship’s internal comm crackled. “Ground teams standing by, General.”

Brivul felt the old familiar surge of pre-battle focus sharpen his senses. “I’ll lead the assault myself.”

“Just like old times, sir?” Cantos grinned.

“Better.” Brivul checked his weapon. “This time we know exactly where our enemy is.”

The drop ship’s bay doors hissed open and released the scent of Nirum’s pine forests into the cabin. Brivul slithered down the ramp, his tactical armor gleaming in the planet’s twin suns. The crashed pirate vessel lay ahead with smoke curling from its engines.

“Nia, take the left flank. Lors, right. Keep them boxed in,” Brivul commanded.

“The civilian transport landed too close,” Kev reported through the comm. “Two hundred meters from the pirate vessel.”

Brivul’s jaw tightened. These pirates had forced his hand—no orbital strikes with civilians that close.

“Cantos, get your demo team in position. When I give the signal, breach their cargo bay.”

“Copy that, General.”

The forest’s undergrowth crushed beneath Brivul’s powerful tail as he led the advance. His body moved with practiced efficiency, each muscle coiled and ready. The familiar weight of his plasma rifle settled against his shoulder.

“Contact!” Fikleo’s voice crackled. “Pirates deploying defensive positions!”

Energy bolts sizzled through the air. Brivul dove behind a fallen tree trunk, bark splintering around him as return fire peppered his position.

“Suppress that turret,” Brivul commanded. His eyes narrowed as he tracked movement near the pirate ship’s boarding ramp. “Lors, two tangos trying to flank your position.”

“Already on it, sir.”

Lors’s rifle cracked twice. Two pirates dropped.

“Nia, status on the civilian transport?”

“Passengers are secure but scared. Pirates can’t reach them through our covering fire.”

Perfect. Brivul raised himself up, towering over the battlefield. His blue scales caught the sunlight as he unleashed a burst from his rifle, forcing a group of pirates back into cover.

“Cantos, now!”

The explosion rocked the pirate vessel’s cargo bay. Through the smoke, Brivul spotted his demo team rushing the breach. The pirates’ organized defense began to crumble.

“Push forward!” Brivul’s voice carried across the battlefield.

His team responded with skilled precision, years of fighting together evident in their coordinated advance. Brivul watched his team push forward, forcing the pirates to retreat deeper into their damaged vessel.

“We’ve got them cornered,” Lors called out. “They’re falling back to—”

Something felt wrong. The pirates didn’t fight like cornered animals. Brivul’s combat instincts, honed over countless battles, screamed a warning.

Movement caught his eye. A flash of metal through the trees—a smaller ship, barely visible behind the main vessel. His senses registered the threat a heartbeat too late.

“Secondary vessel!” he roared. “Get those civilians—”

Suddenly, a missile streaked across the clearing from the smaller ship. Brivul’s tail whipped forward as he launched himself toward the civilian transport, knowing even as he moved that he couldn’t reach it in time. The world slowed around him. Each millisecond burned into his memory.

The missile struck. The civilian transport erupted into a fireball that lit up the surrounding forest. The shock wave knocked Brivul back, his scales scraping against rough bark. Heat washed over him as secondary explosions tore through the civilian vessel.

“No!” The word tore from his throat. Two hundred souls. Families. Children. Gone in an instant.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Nia’s voice crack over the comm. “General… there’s no… there’s no survivors.”

Smoke and ash filled Brivul’s lungs as he stared at the flaming wreckage. His tail went slack against the forest floor, the fight draining from his muscles. The acrid stench of burning metal and flesh coated his tongue.

“General, your orders?” Cantos’s voice crackled through the comm.

Brivul’s fingers crushed the grip of his rifle, his fury no longer contained. Two hundred innocent lives. His responsibility. His failure.

“Secure the area. Round up any surviving pirates,” Brivul ordered.

“And the civilian transport, sir?”

“There’s nothing left to save.”

His crew moved with seasoned efficiency, but Brivul barely registered their actions. The flames from the transport danced before his eyes, each flicker another accusation. He’d led them right into this trap.

“Sir, we found the pirate captain.” Lors approached, dragging a bound figure. “What do you want us to do with him?”

The pirate spat at Brivul’s feet. “The great General Brivul. Not so mighty now. Are you?”

Brivul’s hand shot out, lifting the pirate by his throat. His eyes blazed as he brought the struggling man close to his face.

“Two hundred civilians. Children.”

“Casualties of war, snake.”

Brivul’s grip tightened. One squeeze would end this worthless life. But the dead wouldn’t care. Their screams still echoed in his mind.

He dropped the pirate. “Take him to the brig.”

“General?” Lors asked, his voice tinged with doubt.

“I said take him to the brig.”

Brivul slithered away from the wreckage and boarded the warship. Each movement felt heavy and weighed down by the souls he’d failed to protect.

Back in his quarters, he stripped off his tactical gear. The insignia of general caught the light, mocking him. He’d worn it with pride, but now it felt like a brand of shame.

His terminal chirped with an incoming message from command. They’d want a report, explanations, justifications. He had none to give.

Brivul’s fingers soon moved across his keyboard. His resignation would be on their desks by morning. Let someone else wear these stars. Someone who wouldn’t lead innocent lives to their death.