Page 78 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)
I barely hear him. My focus remains locked on the navigational display, my hands a blur over the controls as I calculate a path through the asteroid field.
The Ravager’s Ruin and the Battlebarge have shields strong enough to withstand most impacts, but sheer brute force won’t be enough.
Weaving through the shifting debris at this velocity pushes my reflexes to their limit.
“Corsark,” I order, passing the partially plotted course to his terminal, “have the Battlebarge follow these coordinates precisely. Maximum shields.”
“It will be done, War Chieftain,” he replies, a long inhale betraying the unease beneath.
Everything now hinges on the Scythians’ reaction.
Will they pursue us into the field? Perhaps only the agile Seeker drones, leaving the larger Voidbanes waiting beyond?
Or will they recognize the trap and hold back, letting patience be their weapon?
If they do, then we are already dead—just debris waiting to be scattered on the solar winds.
I gamble on their desire for revenge, to kill. Let it draw them in. Let it blind their mechanical red lenses.
The asteroid field looms closer, brown-gray masses stretching and distorting as we hurtle forward.
At these speeds, the jagged rock formations blur into streaks of dim light, making it impossible to tell where one ends and another begins.
The deep hum of the shield generators rises as they reach maximum output.
The display confirms the Battlebarge has fallen into perfect formation behind us.
And the Scythians... They adjust course.
They’re coming.
Their intent is clear now—intercept and annihilate.
“Wait. Wait. ” Princesa’s voice cuts through the tension, rising with alarm.
She grips her pet cyloillar as if it might somehow shield her from what’s coming.
“We’re not actually flying into—” Her sentence vanishes in a strangled shriek as the ship lurches forward.
With a yelp, she stumbles back, then scrambles behind the throne for cover.
Drexios, by contrast, stands directly before the viewport, arms spread wide, eye wild with exhilaration. A manic laugh tears from his throat as he embraces the very fate I fight to prevent.
It happens in an instant.
The hyperspeed tunnel collapses into a whirl of churning chaos.
Streaks of blinding light twist and distort as we burst into the asteroid field.
The first impact strikes like a thunderclap—a massive rock colliding with our shields, sending a shockwave rippling through the ship.
Then another. And another. The Ravager’s Ruin groans under the strain, shields blazing against the relentless barrage, each hit reverberating like hailstones against metal.
A smirk tugs at my lips.
My fingers dance across the controls, adjusting our trajectory by the millisecond, threading us through the labyrinth of drifting monoliths.
The ship lurches and tilts, the thickened arcweave hull and Elerium engines straining against the immense task of maneuvering a war machine as if it were a Nebian Battlesuit.
The Rush ignites my veins, burning through me like liquid fire. My focus sharpens to crystalline clarity, my mind processing each movement, every shifting obstacle. Time slows. The streaks resolve into stars, into hulking asteroids, each one a potential death sentence.
I crave more.
More obstacles. More danger. More of the impossible challenges that push me beyond my limits.
Only amongst death, do I feel truly alive.
The ship tilts violently as we graze the edge of a massive asteroid, the shields flaring to absorb the impact. Drexios staggers back, gasping, patting himself down in sudden realization.
“How...” He inhales sharply. His hands move over his body, checking for missing limbs. “Cock. Balls. Head. All attached?” He turns to me, his single eye glinting with mischief. “Anyone seen my eye?”
A deep, triumphant laugh erupts from my throat.
Princesa’s shrieks, Drexios’ exhilaration, the viewport whirling with tumbling rock, the ship groaning beneath my command—it’s all chaos, utter chaos, brought to perfect order beneath my hands.
The shifting mass of blinking white on the display seizes my attention.
The Seeker swarm, numbering in the millions, pours into the asteroid field from both directions.
Their arrival is timed perfectly, just as I intended.
They weave through the debris like darting znats, their small, oval forms allowing them to slip through crevices too narrow for us.
Still, many collide with drifting rock, exploding into bursts of blue flame that are quickly snuffed out by the endless void.
Their numbers are so vast that they obstruct one another, forming an uncoordinated tide of metal and destruction.
“Corsark, prime the damaged Shorthair vessels for self-destruction. Enrich their engines with Elerium,” I command, exhaling steadily, already anticipating their protests.
Corsark hesitates. “Enriched Elerium, War Chieftain?” The realization dawns in his voice before I can answer.
“Yeah, what the hell, babes?” Princesa’s indignant voice cuts in from behind the throne, her words muffled as she deliberately keeps it between herself and the swirling chaos outside the viewport. “Isn’t our Elerium worth a fortune? And you’re just going to waste it on the freaking space hobos?”
It is a loss. But only a small one. A fraction of our supply in exchange for shattering this asteroid field.
“Corsark, distribute a single crate among the vessels. Now.” My voice sharpens, urgency pressing against my ribs. “What price is our survival?” I glance over my shoulder, catching Princesa’s gaze.
“That depends.” She snorts. “Drex-iot? I’d pay to be rid of the rude prick,” she sneers, then softens instantly, her voice turning into a ridiculous cooing.
“But for wee Chug Bug, I’d spend all the money in the universe to keep him safe.
Isn’t that right, my little Chunker?” She strokes the silver rune on the creature’s rubbery back.
Todd blinks up at her slowly, mandibles parting and closing in lazy disinterest.
And for my life?
The words form on my tongue, but I bite them back. A worthless question with an answer I already know—almost nothing. She believes me weak, diminished, lacking Arawnoth’s blessing. A mere blade without its edge.
The sour thought threatens to dampen my blazing exhilaration, but I push it away, burying it beneath the immediate, the necessary. I focus, my hands a blur over the shimmering controls as I adjust our course, threading us deeper into the drifting maze of rock.
The ship groans, a low, guttural protest against the violent maneuvering, its sheer mass forcing the arcweave hull and Elerium engines to their limits.
Smaller fragments of rock pelt the shields in rapid succession, a constant drumbeat of impacts echoing through the hull.
The kaleidoscopic hues outside twist and churn as we roll and bank, slipping through the asteroid field with precision so fine, so impossibly exact, that even the colossal formations grazing our shields seem orchestrated.
I barely breathe as I watch the navigational display, waiting.
Praying.
The Voidbanes must follow.
Their massive, pulsing dots hover at the edges of the debris field, hesitating. The entire battle—our survival—rests on this moment. If they refuse to enter, if they instead wait for us to emerge, we are dead. My legacy will be nothing but shattered wreckage lost in the void.
No.
The dozens of Voidbanes adjust course. But instead of diving in after us, they split apart, repositioning like the severed tendrils of a great beast, flowing outward to surround the asteroid field rather than giving chase.
A chill runs through me.
They’re blocking us in.
Not reckless. Not blindly aggressive. But methodical. Cold. Patient.
The creeping sensation of unease seeps through my veins, curling around my heart like frost. But why seal the asteroid field rather than simply go around?
Because they assume I will change course.
Yes. They believe I will bide my time, looking for an opening—giving them the chance to trap us with Voidbanes while their Seeker drones tighten the noose. If I hesitate, if I slow for even a moment, they will flush us out like prey.
They’re almost right.
Almost.
But I will not hesitate. I will not allow the net to close.
A new way forward appears.
Less glorious, but far more likely to succeed. The Voidbringer has blundered again—once more underestimating me, failing to compute the depth of my fury, my capability.
The three Voidbanes ahead begin to spread apart, their thick, pulsing markers shifting into wider formation to cover more space.
And in doing so, they thin their ranks.
There. A weak point. A single, precise line to punch through.
“Shields holding at ninety-five percent, War Chieftain,” Corsark announces, his usual formality strained by hesitation.
The atmosphere aboard the bridge is suffocating—a held breath, the weight of every soul aboard pressing into the silence.
Dozens of pairs of eyes fixate on the displays, the viewport, the boiling mass of debris beyond.
“That’s good, right?” Princesa asks, hope flickering through her voice.
“Does that mean it’s safe to come out now.
..” She peeks from behind the throne, only to immediately recoil at the dazzling hues streaking past the viewport.
“Nope. I think I’m going to be sick—” she dry-retches before disappearing once more.
It’s not for the faint-hearted.
The maneuvers I execute are so precise, so razor-thin that colossal asteroids almost brush against our shields—jagged edges skimming just beyond reach before vanishing in an instant. No time to react. No time to breathe. One miscalculation, and we are ash.
Yet I do not stop—cannot stop.
Another massive rock snaps into focus—another crushing death narrowly avoided. It is an endless, dizzying dance—one that only I can orchestrate.
“Better strap in, boys!” Drexios bellows, his amusement clear as he practically presses his face to the reinforced polymer screen. “We’ve got incoming. A lot of the shiny bastards.” He spins away from the viewport, cracking his knuckles.
He’s right.
Beyond the shifting asteroid belt, an ocean of red lenses glint in the dark, like malignant stars burning with cruel intent. The Seeker swarm moves with eerie precision, darting through the debris, adjusting—adapting—their mechanical hunger relentless.
Let them come.