Kalan considered his next move as he dropped the thruster pack to the deck and stripped out of the EVA skin. It had taken Kala baby-stepping him through the process to deactivate the distress beacon built into that EVA skin. What a time to be short an engineer, thought Kalan. On the other hand, he reasoned the difficulty ought to make him happy since it meant there was a good chance those beacons would work if he ever had to abandon ship. Except, the robustness of that beacon had nearly derailed everything. When he initially formed the plan, he had intended to kill everyone on board the Zeren ship without exception. They had kidnapped a member of his crew. The Code was clear about his duty.

He was honor-bound to exact vengeance on anyone who participated. On a military vessel, everyone was accountable. He’d had time to think while he waited inside an empty cargo container, though. He’d listened in on the exchange between Temera and the Zeren commander, Semmes, as that container floated through the hard vacuum of space between the ships. If he were a true Warder Under the Night, he would have to kill them all. Yet, he wasn’t a Warder Under the Night. That fact still felt like a cold blade in his stomach, but it was a fact. As much as the Code shaped and guided him, he wasn’t obligated to follow it to the letter. He could decide who would die on the Zeren ship.

Semmes had to die because he’d given the orders. There would be no mercy for the marines who carried it out, however many of those remained after Kala’s display of martial prowess in the cargo bay. He hadn’t had time to review the footage from the cargo bay, but he expected it had been an exceedingly short fight. Kalan felt less certain about how to handle the remaining members of the ship’s complement. The rest of the command staff would likely force his hand, but he knew enough about how ships operated to understand that the rank-and-file crew only had a tangential hand in Petronan’s abduction. Did they really deserve death? The Code said they did. His father would have said they did. How often had he heard a lecture on the obligations of a Warder Under the Night? As he so often did, Kalan heard his father’s voice.

“People don’t fear us simply because we’re dangerous. There are many dangerous people in the galaxy. Some of them are just as dangerous as us. No, the reason people fear us is because they know what we’ll do if they kill our charges or take one of them captive. What is our obligation, son?”

“To retrieve the ward if they live. To execute everyone involved, without fail, without hesitation, without mercy, regardless of rank or status.”

“And when do we stop?”

“We don’t, father. Not until we spend the last of their lifeblood or our own.”

Kalan had believed in those rules. He still understood them. For a people who build their entire culture around the singular task of protecting others, such unyielding ruthlessness was not merely a necessity, but the very cornerstone of what made them valuable and feared. Yet, they weren’t his people anymore. So, he asked himself, exactly how many people on the Zeren ship needed to die? He just didn’t know. Kalan opened the bag he’d brought with him and pulled out the captain’s coat. Beneath the coat, he found his answer. Sitting at the bottom of the bag was a pile of restraints he’d had the ship’s small foundry make while he gathered the rest of his supplies.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared for something worse. His parents had trained him for the certainty that he’d come up against numerically superior forces. He’d slowly assembled the gear he’d need for that situation. He picked up the armored tactical vest he’d purchased years before. It was liberally loaded down with stun grenades and smoke grenades he’d bought from a dubious dealer in questionably acquired goods. There were also spare charge packs for his blaster sidearm and the stubby blaster rifle sitting next to the bag on the floor. Kalan put on the vest and slid into his captain’s coat. The coat might inhibit access to the vest, slightly, but it was a tradeoff he was willing to make for the added layer of protection. He grabbed the restraints and stowed them in pockets for easy access later. He dropped a weapon sling over his shoulder, picked up the rifle, and clipped it to the sling. He powered the rifle on and checked that it had a full charge. Finally, he reached down into the bag, pulled out the matte black mask that had come with the smoke grenades, and clipped it to the vest.

Satisfied that he was as prepared as he was going to get, he stood by the hatch and listened. There was no noise from the corridor outside the small storage space he’d briefly commandeered. He opened the hatch and slipped out into the hallway bringing the rifle up to his shoulder. He did a quick mental review of the hasty diagram that Tessan and Estra had sketched for him of the standard layout of this type of ship. He’d chosen an airlock not far from the brig, deeming Petronan’s retrieval the true priority. He slipped down the corridor and paused at an intersection. He cocked his head and listened. He heard muttering and the sounds of tools. Kalan peeked around the corner. A hinged panel was open, and someone was halfway inside what was apparently a crawlspace.

A quick check in the other direction showed the corridor was still clear. Kalan moved down the corridor swiftly toward the unaware crew member. He glanced back to ensure he was still clear and positioned himself across the corridor.

“Come out of there,” he ordered.

“What?” said a muffled voice. “Is that you P.O.?”

Kalan said nothing and a skinny kid backed out of the crawlspace. The kid started talking before he even got his head all the way.

“I know you wanted this fixed in a hurry, but I can’t take that node offline until we dock somewhere,” said the kid looking left and right with an expression of confusion. “P.O.?”

“On your feet,” said Kalan.

The kid’s head whipped around. He gave Kalan a baffled look that gave way to fear at the sight of the blaster rifle. Kalan had to give the kid credit. Afraid or not, he still reached out for a heavy-looking tool.

The kid tried to distract him by asking, “Who are you?”

Kalan shook his head. “It’s not worth dying for. On your feet.”

The kid grimaced and stood up. He seemed uncertain whether he should put his hands up or not, so they moved up and down in a jerky fashion that Kalan found mildly annoying.

“Put your hands down,” he said.

“Who are you?” Asked the kid again.

“Search and rescue. Where’s the brig?”

“Search and rescue?”

“The brig. Where is it?”

The reality of the situation seemed to hit the kid all at once because he started shaking. “Oh gods, you’re gonna kill me, aren’t you? Oh gods, please don’t.”

Kalan glared at the kid so hard that the young man flinched. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

The kid lifted a trembling hand and pointed. “One corridor down, hang a right. You’ll know it when you see it.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Kalan fished a restraint out of a pocket and tossed it to the kid. “Put it on.”

The kid put the restraint around his wrists and pulled it tight with his teeth. He looked up just in time to catch the buttstock of the rifle in the head. He dropped to the deck like a discarded bag of kelops. Kalan shoved the kid and his tools into the crawlspace and then closed the panel. As Kalan crept forward, he wondered why there were so few people aboard. While the ship was small for a military vessel, he’d assumed it would take more people to keep it operational. Maybe he was just too far down in the bowels of the ship for heavy foot traffic. He peeked around the corner the kid had indicated and found another empty passageway. He grimaced at the certainty that kind of luck wouldn’t hold but started down the corridor. He finally understood what the kid had meant about knowing the brig when he saw it. There was a reinforced hatch with a security pad in the bulkhead.

“Who the hell are you?” Someone half-shouted from behind him.

He turned, dropping to a crouch, and fired. The blaster rifle bolt caught the crew member in the throat. They went down hard and didn’t move. A deafening alarm claxon went off across the ship.

“Gods damn it,” said Kalan.

He stood back up and let the rifle fall. The sling caught it as he pulled his blaster and pressed himself again the bulkhead outside the brig. A moment later, the hatch opened, and a marine rushed into the corridor. Kalan didn’t hesitate. The marine jerked as the bolt passed through his brain. The marine’s forward momentum continued for a moment and then the body toppled to the deck.

“What in the hells?” Someone inside the brig shouted.

Kalan holstered the blaster and pulled one of the stun grenades off his vest. He jerked the pin and flung it into the room. He spun away, closing his eyes and covering his ears. Even with those hasty safeguards in place, the noise was overwhelming. At least the flash was muted. He felt a moment of regret for inflicting that on Petronan, but the time for subtlety was over. He dashed into the room and found another marine writhing on the floor. He jerked his blaster free again and killed the man. Under different circumstances, he might have allowed the marine to try to defend himself. The outcome likely wouldn’t have changed, but it was the more honorable course. This wasn’t about upholding honor, though. This was about taking vengeance. With vengeance, results were the only true measure. Petronan was the only person in the three available cells, hands over his eyes.

Kalan scanned the room quickly and saw a control panel. He slapped a button and all three of the cells swung open. He dashed into Petronan’s cell and hauled the man to his feet. Petronan shoved at him, clearly still half-blind and temporarily deaf. Kalan backed off a step and raised his hands. It took nearly half a minute of furious blinking before Petronan squinted at him and his eyes went wide.

“Captain?”

“Let’s go!” Kalan shouted while pointing toward the hatch.

Petronan nodded. Kalan pulled the spare blaster pistol on the tactical vest and pressed it into Petronan’s hand. The engineer blinked down at the weapon before charging it up. They went to the hatch and Kalan checked the hallway. Petronan rubbed furiously at an ear before he half-shouted at Kalan.

“What’s the plan?”

“We take the ship.”

Petronan cocked his head a little, seemingly convinced that he hadn’t heard right. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” said Kalan while offering a nod.

“Just us?”

Kalan nodded again.

Petronan grimaced and spoke in something like a conversation voice. “This is why I joined the fleet, sir. I hate hand-to-hand combat.”

“It’s the only way,” said Kalan.

He reached down to massage his aching leg. He’d taken a mild painkiller for it earlier, but he suspected that it was going to hurt a lot more before it was all over.

“Let’s get it over with,” grumbled Petronan.

Kalan checked the corridor and the two stepped out. With someone else there to watch his back, Kalan was able to move a little faster. They moved toward the rear of the ship and only encountered minimal resistance. With the alarm raised, Kalan didn’t take chances. One person ran away as soon as he saw Kalan and Petronan. The next two they bumped into were armed. Kalan shot them both.

“This all feel a little too easy to you, sir?” Petronan asked.

“I think this ship is undermanned,” said Kalan. “This next bit might not be as easy.”

“What’s that?”

Kalan pointed to a closed hatch. “That’s engineering. Unless I miss my guess, everyone in that room will be armed. It’s what I’d do. We can’t leave people in there who know what they’re doing."

“We also can’t just shoot the place up or lob grenades in either, either. A lot of the sensitive stuff is behind the shielding, but even one of those flashbangs could throw off something important.”

Kalan nodded as he switched out the charge pack on his rifle. He pulled the sling off and handed both to Petronan. The engineer gave Kalan a strange look, but he dropped the sling over his own shoulder. Kalan switched the charge pack for his blaster.

“I’ll deal with whatever’s inside,” said Kalan.

“Sir?”

“It’s what I was trained for, Petronan. I’ll be fine.”

“How are we going to get past that security pad?”

Kalan gave him a smile and walked over to the pad. He punched a code into the pad and the indicator light went from red to green. Petronan gave him a stunned look as they heard the locking mechanisms disengage.

“How in the hells did you do that, sir?”

“I browbeat a few secrets out of Tessan. When I give the word, you open the hatch.”

“Alright.”

Kalan pulled out the mostly spent charge pack from the blaster rifle and hefted it a few times. It wasn’t exactly the right shape, but it was what he had to work with at the moment. It would have to do. He drew his blaster with the other hand and moved to the opposite side of the hatch. He took three steady breaths and his mind fell into the meditative calm he always strove for while training.

“Do it,” he said.

Petronan swung the hatch open. Kalan whipped the charge pack deep into the room. He heard muffled yells and shuffling feet. He stepped into the room. He never stopped moving but shifted left and let his training take over. Everyone in the room was looking back to where the battery had landed. His mind registered four people in the room. Most were taking what cover they could find behind consoles. He heard his father’s voice in the back of his mind. Whenever you can, start with the leader of the group. It will sow chaos. He leveled the blaster at a hard-bitten woman with graying hair and blaster pistols in each hand. He judged that she was probably in command. He pulled the trigger. Even as he coldly noted her start to topple, he shifted the barrel to a wide-eyed kid holding a blaster rifle. The kid was looking around wildly for where the shot had come from. The kid saw him but didn’t have time to react before Kalan pulled the trigger again.

His hand transitioned the blaster to the position of the next person, but he held back. They had dropped to the floor and used their arms to cover their head. He stopped moving left and dashed forward to close the distance with the final person he’d seen on entry. He planted a hand on a console and vaulted over it, planning to drive them to the floor with his boots. As his legs cleared the console, he caught sight of a dark-haired man who looked like he had a few years on Kalan. He’d been changing positions even as Kalan had done the same. The man’s expression was grim as he leveled a blaster pistol. He and Kalan fired at nearly the same moment. Kalan felt the impact on his side and a brief flash of pain, but Khem’s work proved itself again as the coat dissipated much of the bolt’s energy. Kalan’s hand twitched a fraction of an inch and he fired again. While his first shot had only grazed the man’s arm, his second shot took the man in the heart. Kalan’s boots hit the deck with a solid thumb. He stepped over to the prone figure with their arms over their head. He tossed a restraint onto the floor next to her ear.

“Put it on,” he said, before shouting into the corridor. “Petronan!”

The engineer stepped into the engineering space with the rifle to his shoulder. He came up short as he saw the results of Kalan’s work. The man’s jaw worked a few times before he turned an astonished look on Kalan.

“That was what? Six seconds? Who the hell are you?”

Kalan ignored the question and nudged the prone figure with his boot. “Let’s go.”

The figure slowly reached out and grabbed the restraint. Kalan frowned as the young woman pushed herself up to her knees and slid her hands into the restraint. He reached down and pulled it tight. Then, he helped her stand. She looked around the room. Her face went pale as she took in the slaughter. She twisted away from Kalan and vomited onto the deck. She dry-heaved repeatedly before she eventually regained control. She turned a horrified expression toward him.

“You murdered them. You monster!”

Her words broke against Kalan’s calm like a wave against a cliff face. He regarded her steadily, just waiting for the facts to catch up with her mind.

“You’re still alive, aren’t you? I only fired on the people who were armed. They were combatants.”

“Go to the hells!” She screamed at him.

He shrugged at her. “If you’re really pissed, take it up with your superiors when you get home. Your commanding officer abducted a member of my crew and threatened to steal my ship. That makes you pirates.”

“We’re not pirates. We’re Zeren Navy.”

“Not out here, you aren’t,” said Kalan, pushing the girl toward Petronan. “Keep her secure. I’m going to go finish this.”