Chapter 3
Commander Crukugs
Darren had met commanders before, but Battle Fleet Commander Crukugs was a scary bastard. The brothers were senior officers and carried a lot of responsibility, but Crukugs was the head honcho of the empire’s battlefleet. He was so far above them, he was almost out of sight. Still, the armed forces were meant to keep the empire safe; it wouldn’t do to act like nursemaids.
Darren and his brothers stood to attention in his office while the commander gave them their orders. The room was sparse enough, just a desk and a chair in front of a window looking out over the parade ground at the back of the buildings. There were no visitors' chairs, but one wall was covered in diplomas, certificates and commendations for this, that, and the other. Did the commander suffer from an inferiority complex deep down in his soul? Did he even have a soul? Possibly not. Darren refused to worry about it; he’d just complete the mission as quickly as possible and then get back to the normal routine. He hoped the mission wasn’t off planet.
“You are to collect females from Earth, bring them to Ohiri, and escort them to the Planet Drypso, which was hard won by empire forces,” barked Crukugs, pacing as he spoke. “The passengers are crucial to the empire.” The lizard paused to let the full weight of his statement sink in, and eyed them. “Drypso is on the frontier and attacks by Quk are a constant danger. You will guard the females with your lives. Do I make myself clear?”
Grack. They were going off-planet.Darren suppressed a sigh. He had heard of Drypso and the legends of battle that had emerged after the empire won it. They weren’t pretty. Neither were the Quk, a demonic, bloodthirsty species that relished war. They were heavily armed and their tech matched the Ohirins: Quk were scary.
He liked his comfortable routine on Ohiri. It wasn’t a bad life. His own quarters, good food, everything provided for. The only problem was the lizards who inhabited it — the Ohirins, and their brash reptilian culture. It didn’t suit him; he’d even go so far as to admit he hated it.
“Can you tell us more about the females, Sir? For instance, do they come willingly or are we to abduct them?” Blayze dared to ask it and it was a fair question. Darren also wanted to know if he was made to do something against his moral code. He would refuse the mission; he had never forced a woman and he never would. Nor would his brothers.
Clearly annoyed, Crukugs gave Blayze a dirty look, made worse from a reptilian eye. “The females volunteered for this trip,” he told them firmly. “Silence while you receive your orders. Further questions will result in a day banged up in solitary.”
They didn’t ask any more questions.
Talon-fingered hands knitted behind his back, the commander paced in front of them on the quality brown carpet, between them and the desk. His tail stuck out from his trousers below his jacket and it swished as he paced. Darren could never quite get used to Ohirin tails.
“We’re counting on you, Dheltans, and the warriors stationed on Drypso are counting on you.”
As the commander was Ohirin, and most of the warriors were Ohirin, Darren silently questioned the wisdom of sending Dheltans to guard the mystery passengers, but questioning orders was more trouble than it was worth.
“The passengers number ten,” Crukugs added, fixing Blayze with a hostile look. “You will be responsible for theirsafety.”
He paused, black eyes boring holes in each of them like lasers.Was he trying to make sure they understood?Darren wondered. As they’d been ordered not to speak, he thought it was pointless. The commander spoke again. “You shall leave within a week, and you will be given twenty-four hours' notice of departure. Dismissed.”
The brothers filed out of the commander’s office.
As they walked down the corridor, Blayze complained,“How are we supposed to succeed, thrown to the Quk like that?”
Darren cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Keep your voice down; he’ll hear you.”
Lero was tight-lipped. “Dheltans are expendable.”
“Captain Tagik?” a voice called their names, and as the eldest, Darren faced forward to answer the man. The man bowed. “May I present myself? I’m Pilot Joel, and I’ve been ordered to collect the er... ” he scanned about him nervously, “the cargo and take them to Drypso, together with yourselves,” he said.
Darren was pleased to see he was a Dheltan like them. Another homeless soul. Like all their species, the young pilot was tall, good-looking, and pale. He had light blue skin and long white hair tamed in a neat plait. The pilot wore a black flight suit with the empire’s insignia, a four-fingered lizard claw with talons, stitched on the left breast pocket.
They shook hands and the pilot made a small bow to each of his brothers. “Captain Tagik, Captain Tagik,” he greeted them in turn. “You will accompany the Pioneer to Earth.”
“It’s easier to call us by our first names as we all look alike, though you can tell which brother is which by our coloring and hairstyles,” said Blayze helpfully. “I’m Blayze,” he said, laying his palm on his chest, “the purple bruiser is Lero and the cherry one is Darren, who’s our leader.”
“Huh,” groused Lero, peeved at being called a bruiser. “Just because by some fluke he was born first.”
“He’s the eldest, and we must have a spokesman, otherwise we’re like a three-headed beast, heads bickering in one body.” Blayze stuck up for Darren, but seeing the confusion and concern on Joel’s face, Darren cut into the conversation quickly.
“What can we do for you, Pilot?”
“I’m here to discuss the mission with you. Let’s go into an office. We can’t talk out here.”
Indeed, the four stood in the corridor, which was practically in public. Anyone could have walked past. Darren was relieved that Joel appeared to know what was happening. Maybe he could answer the questions the brothers hadn’t been allowed to ask.
Joel led them into a middle-sized empty office, more of a briefing room. It had a large wooden table with ten upright chairs round it on a plain green carpet, a single window in the white plasterboard walls. The only other piece of furniture was an ‘A’ stand for a whiteboard or a giant pad, with red and blue markers on the narrow shelf.
“What can you tell us about the mission, Pilot?” asked Darren when they had sat around the table. “And just how dangerous are the Quk?”
