45. Lorken
Lorken
Iburst onto the command deck at a run, skidding to a stop at the sight through the wide viewing glass. The Zagrath battleship hung before us, enormous and malevolent. My stomach roiled, rage boiling my blood that the enemy had gotten this close to us.
“Fire at will," I barked, and the command deck erupted into a flurry of motion, as tactical officers relayed the order across every channel.
Red light bloomed from the enemy's hull an instant later, arcing toward us with terrible speed, and I braced one hand on the nearest console as the impact rocked through the ship and nearly buckled my knees.
Then the lights died, plunging the command deck into total blackness before the emergency lighting flickered on and bathed everything in a dim wash of scarlet.
The doors to my left parted, and Zarn burst from his oblek, blood still smeared along one forearm, his expression fierce.
"The traitor can wait," he said before I could comment. “The enemy cannot."
I locked eyes with him across the chaos of pulsing light and wailing consoles. "Time for you to prove you are the battle chief you claim to be."
Something sharpened in his gaze, and he began barking commands. He ordered new evasive patterns to be transmitted to every ship in our horde, and the warbird banked hard to one side beneath us, the whole deck tilting enough that I had to grip a console to keep my footing.
We dove beneath the Zagrath vessel's belly, and I spotted enemy fighter jets pouring from its flanks like disturbed insects from a hive.
"Deploy our fighters," Zarn ordered, and it wasn’t long before our Vandar fighters joined the swarm of darting ships.
The warbird shuddered again and again as weapons fire found its mark, each impact rattling my teeth. Then came heavier, duller impacts that didn't match the rhythm of photons blasts. Trepidation slid cold down my spine, instinct reacting before my mind had fully caught up to what I was hearing.
"Multiple reports, Raas," Dawz said from a nearby standing console. "Enemy vessels are attaching to our hull and cutting through."
My first thought was not of my ship or of the battle raging between the fighters. It was of Athena, who was unarmed with her friends in my quarters. She had no clue there could be enemy soldiers crawling through the warbird and no way to defend herself.
Zarn drew the axe strapped to his back, his expression ferocious, but I caught his arm before he could move.
"You need to lead the battle," I told him. “Battle strategy is your gift, brother, more than mine."
Surprise flickered across his face before it settled at determination. He clenched his jaw and gave a short nod, already turning back to give more orders.
“Majak,” I said, already moving toward the weapons rack mounted near the command deck's entrance and plucking the battle axe I kept there. “You’re with me."
He fell into step without question, snagging a double-sided axe of his own, and together we hurried from the command deck, boots pounding against the steel floor as the ship lurched from side to side with every new impact.
I forced myself to think of the larger battle raging, even as one thought pulsed louder than all the rest and drowned out even the distant echo of blades striking blades.
Athena. She should be safe in my quarters. There was no indication that the room behind the steel doors belonged to me, so there was no reason for it to be targeted by the enemy, but I had learned from the Vandar who’d come before me not to underestimate the cruelty or cunning of the Zagrath.
"Status on the breach points," I demanded as we ran, and Dawz checked the device strapped to his wrist without breaking stride.
"Deck fourteen, Raas. Starboard hull." He glanced at me. "Not close to your quarters. Not yet."
Not yet. The words offered little comfort as we descended through the ship, the emergency lighting drenching everything in crimson, as if the steel was already soaked in blood. Raiders sprinted past us in both directions with leather kilts slapping their thighs and their axes drawn.
“Now enemy soldiers reported on deck twelve,” Dawz called out, checking his device again as we rounded a corner.
Closer to the corridor that led toward my quarters.
My hands tightened around the hilt of my blade, my strides lengthening.
Every instinct told me to go to her first, but that made no tactical sense.
Deck fourteen was closer. I might be a warlord enthralled with a beautiful woman, but I was still the Raas of a Vandar horde.
"We clear deck fourteen first,” I said, forcing steel into my voice even as every instinct screamed at me to run straight for Athena instead.
Dawz said nothing, but I caught the curious look he gave me before we rounded the final corridor and ran straight into Zagrath soldiers.