And Vytln was the one paying for it.
But he’d rather that than knowing they were dead. It made the pain a reward.
“Kldyn! We’ve swung out!” Someone yelled, their voice warbling thanks to the way his ears were ringing.
His vision blurry, from pain and blood and the knocks to his head, Vytln raised his gaze and tried to focus on the male calling from the door.
He was bound up in chains, arms suspended overhead up towards the ceiling, but down on his knees – lest he forget his place. He wasn’t sure what room he was in. It was far too large to be a brig, but it was dark and empty and Kldyn came and went with ease. The only other people were those who came to deliver him message or ask for orders.
Though Vytln was loosely bound, his chains weren’t long enough to allow him to reach the edges of the room. Even if he wanted, there was nowhere he could go. And after the repeated beatings over the last few marks – he didn’t know how many – he didn’t really have the ability to stand anyway.
Kdlyn was punishing him for whatever was going wrong, and he wouldn’t kill Vytln until he was certain he’d won and Vytln hadseenhim win. Which meant his crew was still ahead of him somehow. Of course they were. He knew he could count on his captain.
Even if he died here, he knew Tanin and the others, brothers to him closer than blood could ever bond, would take care of his mate and young. His offspring would grow up strong and tough and capable but never having to worry about backstabbing and familial hatred and envy the way he did.
And that thought, somehow, made the pain more bearable. He could tolerate it. Even as his head was ringing and ringing and…
No, that wasn’t ringing. Notjustringing. It was laughter. Kldyn was laughing.
His stomach sank as he tried to focus back on his brother. Why was he suddenly so happy?
Kldyn, still in his expensive suit, the sleeves and chest splattered with Vytln’s blood, gave him a bright, happy smile. Using the hammer, blood dripping from the head, he lifted his head by the chin.
“We’re back on schedule,” he said. “And just in time too. Open the windows! Turn on exterior lights. I want to make sure we don’t miss a moment of this. Especially you, my dear elder brother. I really want you to savor the moment that I triumph over you completely.”
As he was talking, the wall at his back began moving. No, not a wall, Vytln realized. A massive, curved window. The protective metal plating usually covering it was pulling away, revealing the large viewing deck. That was where Vytln had been locked up. The black sofas ringing the room hadn’t been removed, though everything else that would have made this place beautiful and comfortable had been. There was only him, suspended in the center, and Kldyn, bloody hammer in hand.
And through the window, as the exterior floodlights of his brother’s ship were turned on, the Humility.
It hurt, almost as much as the dull ache of the lingering blows across his body, to see his ship, his home, in such a state. The Humility had never been pretty; it had been patched and pieced together many times over its lifetime. But now there were holespeppering the surface. Large gouges ripped through, not unlike the marks in his skin.
“Release the tether!” Kldyn ordered, almost giddy, as he looked at Vytln. “We destroyed the engine when we clamped on. That ship can’t move at all. Well, I suppose it could swing. Let’s play a game, shall we? Can they swing away in the time it takes us to move back before we activate the explosives? What do you think? If they get away, I’ll even let them live.”
Vytln, despite the pain of it, tried to stand. Not even sure what he was going to do but needing to dosomething. But before he could even try, Kldyn whipped around, slamming the hammer against the side of his knee. His skin cracked and shattered again as he was forced back down with a roar of pain. But his eyes were only closed for a moment.
He couldn’t look away. The Humility, broken and patched and beaten, was coming into proper view as his brother’s ship put some safe distance between them. It didn't have to be much. Explosive shockwaves couldn’t travel in space.
“Uh-oh,” Kldyn snickered, staring at Vytln with wide, crazed eyes. More interested in his reaction than the deaths he was threatening to cause. “I don’t think they’re going to make it.”
“Kldyn, stop,” Vytln grunted, his voice rough and pained. “You already have me. They have nothing to do with us. With me. Letting them live wouldn’t matter to you.”
Kldyn tutted, looking at him like he was pitiful. “They disrespected me, Vytln. No one disrespects me. And they helped a fugitive of the family. We can’t just let that slide. Who knows who would try to challenge us next time? And so many of our cousins died in that ship trying to chase you down. No, Vytln. I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done. They’re all going to die.”
“Kldyn!” Vytln pulled against the chains, but his injured knee wouldn’t bear his weight anymore and they clinked mockingly against each other.
The entire Humility was in the view screen now. Close. So close. Vytln could probably throw something and hit the side if they weren’t in space. But it was far enough that the blowback of the explosion wouldn’t damage them anymore.
“Detonate,” Kldyn said simply, happily.
“No!” Vytln roared, begging. He just needed to get the captain some time. Tanin would think of something, surely. He wouldn’t let their home be destroyed. He wouldn’t-
The blast was muted. There was a flash of fire, but it was quickly snuffed out by the vacuum of space. Mostly, there was just destruction. Pure force as metal warped and bent and blew outwards. The Humility, already itself a patchwork of metal parts, burst apart at its many seams. It wasn’t neat or pretty either. Shrapnel and warped metal were all unrecognizable to even his eyes, though he knew that ship better than his own body.
It was an instant. A moment so quick he could have blinked and missed it. And then his home, his ship, his world, was obliterated. Pieces flew off in every direction, the force driving them away. Some bounced off the glass viewing window, bumping with loud thuds that did no damage to the reinforced material.
All the strength in Vytln’s body snapped at the same moment as he suddenly went limp. Staring in horror at the mangled, drifting remains of his ship.
No. His captain was supposed to have stopped that. He should have had them get away. He had to have done something to protect their home.
