Chapter 1 – Motok
“Move in but take it slow,” I commanded in a low tone, whispering through the comm device to the half dozen warriors following close behind. “No surprises. We take out the slavers one by one. I don’t want any females still alive to be compromised by the Zhorn when they discover us.”
My First met my gaze as his scarred face turned slightly to the right.
He nodded, his jaw set in a firm line. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.
He’d lost a cherished female of his own to similar circumstances.
Slavers were ruthless in their greed and vicious in their quest. Only the promise of credits held any allure.
The lives of the females that were taken never entered their thoughts, nor the trauma that inevitably resulted.
They enjoyed the violation and grew to crave the abuse and suffering of others. The power was an addiction.
“I detect three bio-signs. Human,” he divulged. “Two female and one male. They’re weak.”
Lifting a brow, I couldn’t hide my reaction. Only three captives? We usually found groups of five to ten or more, not that any of them were still alive. I focused on the one detail that was important. “There’s a male?”
We didn’t often find males among the trafficked humans. Alien species paid high rates for the soft vessels of female sexual organs. Males were considered far less useful as they lacked fertile wombs, but some species were entertained by the degradation and act of sodomy.
My First sneered, his look of disgust obvious. “It is deplorable in every way.”
Valtus wasn’t wrong.
I swallowed hard, my stomach churning with the thought of what these poor souls endured and suffered at the hands of such monsters.
The Galactic Conclave did little to intervene.
Instead, they kept their powerful seats of prominence and pretended indifference, allowing the slavers to continue with the profitable trafficking of captives as long as it didn’t affect the planets and species that belonged to the Galactic Assembly.
Many species were exploited but the human females were the most coveted and at greater risk over the last fifty years.
To be precise, since the Interstellar Space Program began.
I still thought the entire thing was a mistake.
Humans just weren’t ready and the lack of higher tech or a seat on the Galactic Conclave proved I wasn’t the only one to believe this was true.
Protected or not, humans were frail and small.
In the vast emptiness of space, they were easily forgotten.
There were too many species with far greater problems and entirely too aggressive governments.
Valtus was poised next to my side, index finger hovering above the trigger on his blaster.
The weapon hummed lightly, the energy pulsing through its core both powerful and deadly.
My own weapon was held firmly in my right hand, leaving my left hand open to grab the jagged blade always present on my back.
Most Braxthar trained with these swords in our youth but learned to hone our skills and become adept once we entered into service and were conscripted as warriors.
“You said the bio-signs were weak.”
Something was wrong. My quills felt hot and trembled with anticipation. The likelihood of battle always affected me this way. A low growl left my lips.
“Yes, Commander.”
His answer was no surprise as I detected movement inside. We landed on this planet only a few hours prior after Intel suggested that human captives were being sold in the marketplace as breeding stock for the inhabitants.
Hoynal was rather unremarkable, the tech neither the worst nor the best among the fifty-one species in the Conclave and its society focused on the rich mining ore that resided far below ground.
Their species – Ingrog – was wide in girth with massive chests and abnormally long arms that reached almost to the ground, bodies firmly muscled and covered in coarse russet hair.
Their heads were overlarge with gaping mouths full of razor-sharp teeth, most of them filed into deadly points.
The brute strength helped down in the mines but was brutal upon their youth and females.
Ingrog society was simple and regarded wealth, stature, and their jeweled harnesses that draped across their bodies as more important than reproduction.
Hundreds of Earth years later and the mines had taken a toll.
As a result, the Ingrog of Hoynal could no longer breed at the rate they needed to avoid extinction.
Short tempers and a refusal to follow the rules led their species to desperate choices.
The slavers recognized and took advantage, offering up females and extracting exorbitant prices for the chance to breed with humans who were among a few of the compatible species they could mate.
The Ingrog violated the Cardinal Edict as soon as they negotiated with the Zhorn.
Valtus nodded, his lips set in a firm line. “One bio-sign just went out completely.”
Veet!
We were discovered.
“Go! Now! Save the captives!”
My order was yelled without delay since discovery no longer mattered.
We entered the domed building we had surrounded earlier, bursting through from all angles and breaking the structure apart.
Formed with mud, a plaster-like substance infused with the material of their vegetation, it wasn’t built to withstand such an attack.
Blaster fire could be heard along with a shriek from one of the females.
The human male’s voice cut through the others as he swore, his tone a deep contrast to the grunts and roars of the Ingrog.
“Save them!” he shouted. “Let the Ingrog keep me instead!”
His sacrifice was admirable, but it would not save the females.
One lay dead across the far side of the room, no doubt destroyed before we entered as a Zhorn slaver climbed off her lifeless body.
My warriors closed in, unsheathing their weapons.
I let them advance without a word. Moments later, the Zhorn’s death cry filled the air.
The other female was fighting off a much larger Ingrog, the beast roaring as he picked her up in anger and shook her like a ragdoll.
His rage at being interrupted before he could complete the transaction of sale must have triggered his furious response.
The Ingrog was a fool. He would kill the breeder he desperately needed because he was nothing more than a meatsuit.
The human’s body was slammed into the ground twice before I was able to lock onto his back.
A single pulse from my blaster opened a hole clear through his midsection as he slumped to the ground.
The female stared up at the ceiling, her eyes vacant as I shook my head.
Such a frail and soft body could not withstand the brutal nature of these beasts.
This entire assignment was nothing but tragedy, preventable if only the Conclave would understand the real danger the Zhorn represented.
“Fuck!” The human male confronted another Ingrog, fighting with renewed vigor as we opened fire.
Chaos ensued. More of the beasts entered the hut before I found him minutes later, a blaster hole in his side and a deep gash running along his pale peachy colored forehead.
“Tell my family,” he gasped, slumping over slightly. “Tell them I tried to save her.”
“Save who?”
“My comrade.” He coughed up blood, bubbles appearing on the sides of his mouth as he spoke and shoved a piece of cloth into my hand. The insignia from a light blue uniform – Interstellar Space Program (ISP) – was bloodied and torn. “They’re not . . .” he paused, fighting for every breath. “Safe.”
“Who?” I demanded as Valtus kneeled at my side, scanning the human male’s vitals.
He shook his head sadly. There was nothing we could do.
We were not equipped to heal humans. Similar physiology or not, even our medical officer wasn’t prepared for the extent of his injuries.
We didn’t carry human plasma aboard our battle cruiser and their flesh was much more delicate.
“Hargrave,” the human whispered, sputtering as his eyes lost their flicker of light. “Find the Hargraves.” As his chest rose and fell a final time, I resisted the urge to roar my frustration to the Cosmos.
The human male was dead.
There would be no further information. We would search the records and files, scan the Zhorn and the Ingrog for any evidence but the slavers weren’t careless. Nothing much would be found. It was the way they kept one step ahead of us and had been since this mission began.
None of the Ingrog or other slavers survived.
The only useful piece of Intel was the human surname Hargrave and the ISP insignia.
Valtus lowered his head as a sign of respect for the human as I shot to my feet, too angry to remain on this planet.
My report would cover these atrocities in detail as well as the dozens of human captives we’d found for months without the ability to rescue a single female unharmed.
Corpses were carefully stowed away on board the Vindicator to await the decision of the human government.
Three more bodies would join the growing tally of casualties in an unknown war.
This male had been discovered and murdered along with the others.
An angry tick pulsed in my jaw as the quills on my back grew warm and refused to lower completely even if the threat was extinguished.
The Zhorn would answer for their crimes. Somehow. Some way. I would make it my mission to bring justice to those who didn’t have a voice.