“Murder is like a seed:

  it can’t help but grow revenge.”

  -Grand General Gar Sarconis

  Chapter 2: Red Alert

  12 years later…

  The storm came on the wind. With it, death and destruction. He had brought it with him, and until the deed was done, it would continue. Inwardly, he wept. Outwardly, Krieger raged.

  The Watloosie warriors were difficult opponents. Already, they had cut him thrice. To their dismay, it did little to stop him. He had suffered worse in battle. He was prepared to suffer worse to save his only son.

  Paired, the warriors worked harmoniously to cut him down. Krieger could only assume they were husband and wife. They had aged well. Still, they were at least half a century old. Krieger envied them. His years showed on every crack and crevice of his worn face. He knew it was deserved.

  Feinting left and swinging his cutlass outward, he cut the woman’s arm. The strategic blow gave rise to the man’s anger. Just as Krieger anticipated. Rage blinded the man, his protective instincts enacted. Swinging high, Krieger ducked his large form under the attack. Then, his cutlass found home in the man’s heart. It brought Krieger no pleasure to see the wife’s expression turn from shock to horror. It was a reaction he had seen all too many times. It was the stuff his nightmares were made of. As the energy from the cutlass hummed and sizzled in the man’s chest, he prepared for the woman’s rage. Raising his energy shield, he withdrew his cutlass from the man as his lifeless body fell to the ground. Krieger took a defensive stance and prepared for her attack.

  He could see it in her eyes. Sense it in her attack. Without him, there was no point. No joy. No reason to go on. Her husband was her life, just as his son was his. Krieger made the moment quick and painless. In seconds, she joined her beloved in the peace only passing could bring. Krieger walked away in shame.

  He was not one for trophies. It felt wrong to take the Watloosie’s blades from her, but he could tell they held a secret. There was something strange about them that compelled him to, on top of the fact the blade was covered in strange, archaic markings. Being an old pirate, he knew very little of ancient weapons and powers, but he knew someone who did. The blades would serve him well on his quest.

  The villagers were almost all aboard the Skullbreaker, the herald spaceship in his fleet. His crew came for the spoils. He came for the slaves. Perhaps this amount would be enough to satisfy his new masters. Somehow, though, he doubted it.

  “At least,” he thought, “it will keep my son alive.”

  Marianne Briggsbey, his First Mate, was a raven haired, dark skinned beauty. She approached him as he made his way down to the beach. In another life, she would have been his daughter in law. She, like him, did what she did for his son. She, like him, hated it.

  “They’re all on board,” she informed him, trying to make herself heard over the storm.

  That was all he needed to hear. Hastily, he made his way to the ship. He longed for sleep, and the escape from reality it brought him. Deep down, however, he knew nothing could quell his guilty conscience.

  *

  Maria was in shock. Nothing in her life could have prepared her for this moment. She had always known moving to the island could have negative consequences, but never like this. It was a nightmare, one she feared she would never wake up from.

  Inside a laser shielded cell, she could see the pirates bringing in their new treasures. Their stolen trinkets. Among them, some of her and James’ possessions.

  “James.”

  She could still see the light leaving his eyes. Her close friends, Zennepher and Pennyta, sensed her pain, and clung to her more tightly. They had also lost their loved ones in the conflict. Now, all they had was each other. Maria squeezed them both affectionately.

  “We’re going to get through this,” she whispered, whether to herself or her friends she was not sure.

  Like livestock, the villagers who survived were herded together in a large cargo bay area. Shielded cells held ten to twenty prisoners. Maria realized the fate of them all. The life of a slave awaited her, and the death of her husband and so many others could not change that.

  The last of the pirates entered the ship. With them, a beautiful woman wearing a tricorn hat, and a giant of a man, whose long white hair and beard could not hide the ugliness of his face. She knew him to be Halsey Krieger, leader of the so-called, “Dread Pirates.” Rumors had flown around the interweb that he had found religion, and had abandoned his old ways five years ago. Apparently, the rumors were just that.

  Magnetized to the old man’s belt were too familiar blades. Her heart sank as her recognition turned to realization. Sheba, and presumably her husband, were dead. Being former guards in the Shaka’s court, she suspected they were not to be taken without a fight. More friends she would never see again.

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  Feeling the ship begin its ascent, Maria took a seat on the floor, leaning back onto the auburn energy shield. Her mind drifted back to happier times. Simpler, uncomplicated times with the one she loved.

  Her husband, a Blue Orc from the planet Tantlar, had once been a great warrior, and an even greater pilot. She remembered meeting him on an escort mission for the Aratoorian Ambassador. While staying on Tantlar, she encountered James in the officer’s lounge on base. A mutual friend had introduced them, and during the course of their conversation, a heated debate began as to who was the better pilot. The following day, they entered their respective fighters and settled their debate through a simulated contest. It was the most intense Maria had ever had, but in the end, she won. She always suspected that James had let her win, but he would never admit it.

  From there, their budding romance began. It was the most blissful time of her life. They were married within six months of meeting, and planned to move to Inkh once their respective tours of duty were finished. On leave, they would vacation through the galaxy on their own personal star cruiser. Some stared strangely at the Orc and the human, but they did not care. They had found what few in this galaxy could even dream of having: true love.

  On James’ last mission, tragedy struck. While engaging pirates in Tantlar’s upper atmosphere, James’ squad was overwhelmed. During the ensuing chaos, James’ fighter took damage, frying his systems. Unable to control his vessel, he had no choice but to eject. Sadly, the damage had caused the cockpit circuitry to malfunction, locking it in place. By the time he managed to disengage the system, the damage had been done. James’ legs had been terribly burned.

  Modern medicine aided greatly in the healing process, as did therapy. Maria stood by him through it all. Still, if his legs were to work properly, James would need corrective surgery. “Muscle mesh,” as it was commonly called, and nanotechnology were used to rebuild the muscles in his legs. Such procedures were costly, but Tantlar’s military was more than happy to pay. Even with all that, time was needed to heal completely. After being medically discharged and honored for his service, James and Maria moved to Inkh as they had planned, and helped begin a small settlement on the island of Marek.

  Everything seemed to be getting back to normal. Until, of course, tragedy struck. Now only dread and fear remained. She regretted ever moving to start a new life. She regretted how her last conversation with James had been a heated argument.

  She stared at the same spot on the floor for an hour. Maybe two. Time seemed irrelevant at the moment, as was her recollection of it. It was only until Pennyta, Zennapher, and the others in their cell stood that she took note of their surroundings. Something had triggered the alarm in the ship.

  “What does that one mean?” Zennapher inquired, looking to Maria for an answer.

  “Someone has breached the ship.”

  *

  Krieger awoke from his slumber like a grizzletaur awakening from hibernation. In a fury, he threw on his clothes and armor, grabbed his cutlass, and stormed out of his quarters. Prepared to greet him was his technician droid, not so affectionately named, “Stutter.”

  “Sir, scans indicate the b-b-b-” Stutter began. Agitated, Krieger hit the droid in its square head, and it continued.

  “-bridge has been b-b-breached.”

  Pushing his way past the lanky droid, he walked down the dimly lit hallway towards the elevator. Flashing red lights and wailing sirens created an almost psychedelic atmosphere. Quickly, Stutter ran towards him to catch up.

  “Master, it is ill-advised to go up there alone. If the ship's counter breach methods have failed, you’ll most certainly perish.”

  “If that’s the case, we’re all dead anyway,” Krieger countered.

  “I see. Well, I’ll be sure to keep you posted on the comms to any changes I detect.”

  “You’re coming with me,” Krieger ordered sternly.

  “I believe my talents would be-” Stutter began, raising his metal hand in protest.

  “Get on the elevator, Stutter,” Krieger demanded, his patience growing thin.

  With its head stooped in defeat, Stutter complied. Upon the elevator's ascent, Krieger received a call on his H.I.C. (holographic imaging computer) from his First Mate. Touching the glowing screen on his forearm, the young woman's holographic image appeared before him, as though she was actually there, save a few minor defects in the imaging.

  “I am sending Borka and a few of the men to reinforce you,” she stated, seemingly knowing what he had already intended to do.

  “Too late. I’m almost there.”

  Marriane paused for a moment, as though to choose her next words carefully.

  “We won’t get him back if this mission fails.”

  His patience having already fully waned, Krieger responded curtly.

  “Then I won’t fail,” he reported, cutting off the call.

  Shortly after the call, the elevator arrived on the bridge level. As the door slid up to open, Krieger activated his cutlass and forearm shield. The blade's energy put off a yellow hue, as did the rectangular, Romulus style shield. Cautiously he proceeded forward, sword and shield at the ready. Stutter followed closely behind, cowering behind his towering figure.

  The hallway leading out to the bridge was lined with bodies of his crew members. Five lay unceremoniously on the floor, whether unconscious or dead, Krieger was not sure. Silently he checked the pulse of those closest to him, and found them to be alive. With shield raised, he proceeded towards the bridge entrance. The door itself was half closed, and the hall lights, both for illumination and alert, were either busted, sparking, or barely functioning. Despite there being no rooms aligning the path, Krieger kept a weather eye on the spaces beside and behind him. His anger was slowly turning into fear.

  Punching the bridge access pad adjacent to the door, Krieger brought his guard up, ready for whatever was on the other side. Like his men on the bridge, however, he found he was not ready for what he faced. Before he could react, a dark presence reached out from the shadows to overtake him.

  As he fell to the floor, slowly losing consciousness, he could see the faint silhouette of his droid running away. As his vision dimmed, he could just make out a dark wraith seemingly enveloping his droid. The last thing he saw was his attacker’s blood red, glowing eyes staring back at him.