Three Square Meals Ch. 137

"Sssub-Prelate? What are your ordersss?"

Dejarin glanced at the grizzled Kintark marine beside him. Despite Vekgira's outwardly calm appearance, the Sub-Prelate could see that she was just as badly shaken by the scale of the destruction visited upon the alien soldiers.

"Proceed into the Palace," he replied, gesturing towards the grand entryway.

The squad accompanied him through a forest of broken statues, the senseless vandalism to the ancient sculptures stoking his anger. Entering the Palace, they stumbled across a massacre of the palace staff, finding scores of civilians shot in the back by the Brimorian invaders. The Kintark marines muttered to each other, their sharp snarls and curt growls reflecting their tightly-suppressed fury.

Tearing his eyes from the atrocity, the Sub-Prelate tapped his subordinate on the vambrace. "We musst continue onwardsss, Vekgira."

She acknowledged him with a nod and started barking orders at her squad. They fell in and headed deeper into the palace at Dejarin's side.

The next group of bodies they encountered were all Brimorian and the Kintark officer paused to stare at them in astonishment. It looked like the entire alien squad had been sliced in half, an enormous blade having disembowelled over two-dozen armoured soldiers in a single swipe. The Enclave troopers had died where they'd fallen, and judging by the way most of them lay face-down, had been slain from behind before even realising they were under attack.

Shocked by the strange circumstances of the aliens' demise, the Kintark marines fell silent as they continued along the granite hallways. They found several more small groups of courtiers, the Imperial citizens shot in the back as they attempted to flee from the Brimorian invaders. Far more disturbing though, were the sporadic Enclave corpses littering the floor.

One Brimorian had lost his right leg, severed neatly above the knee. He had tried to crawl away in his desperation to escape, only to be stabbed in the back and impaled to the ground. Vekgira placed her armoured boot on the corpse and rolled it over, revealing the dead Brimorian's terrified face. His scaly features were frozen in a mask of such dreadful fear that the sight of him sent a shiver down Dejarin's spine.

It soon became clear that whoever had killed the alien invaders had stalked them through the palace, turning pitiless hunters into terrified prey. The path to the Throne Room was strewn with dismembered Brimorian marines, each and every one chopped down and butchered without mercy.

"What could have done thisss?" Dejarin murmured, staring in horror at a Brimorian who had lost both forearms before being decapitated.

Vekgira grimaced as she crouched down by the headless corpse. "The blow ssstruck with enough force to ssshear ssstraight through the armour and sssever each limb in a sssingle ssstroke," she replied, pointing towards the smooth cuts in the armour. "Look how clean thossse woundsss are... not ragged from repeated attemptsss to hack through."

The Sub-Prelate nodded in understanding. "The attacker wasss very ssstrong then?"

"Correct... and the blade incredibly sssharp," Vekgira confirmed with a nod.

Dejarin shivered at the thought of facing someone so powerful. "Alright... let usss continue, we have nearly reached the Throne."

They walked along the corridor and approached the set of massive double doors that led into the Imperial Throne Room. Entering the imposing chamber, Dejarin spotted a squad of Kintark marines standing guard by the door into the Empress' suite, and led his troops over to join them. They snapped to attention as he approached, saluting him respectfully.

"Where isss Sssub-Prelate Khargic?" he asked the guards.

"Inssside, Sssir," one of them replied, gesturing towards the partially-open door.

Dejarin passed between the guards and entered the suite, taking note of the damage to the walls where the doors had been thrown open with great force. At the end of the entry corridor was the Empress' bedchamber and the Kintark soldier could hear her rumbling snores long before he reached the second set of doors. The group of guards there opened them for him and ushered Dejarin through, giving him his first look at the leader of the Kintark Empire.

Tamolith was absolutely magnificent in all her draconic splendour, the massive dragon's red scales a glorious crimson hue in the sunlight streaming through the open windows. The Sub-Prelate felt like throwing himself to his knees before the Kintark Empress and worshipping her for the immortal goddess that she was, both beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. Dejarin would have done so, if not rooted to the spot in awe of this spectacular creature.

"You're late..." a dour voice grumbled.

"What?" Dejarin replied, blinking in surprise and focusing on the burly Kintark marine approaching him.

"Firssst time in the palace?" the other Sub-Prelate asked, before waving away the question. "Never mind... I can tell you've never been around the Imperial line before. You're our replacementsss?"

"You mussst be Khargic," Dejarin said, saluting his fellow officer. "My apologiesss for our late arrival. We are here to relieve you of guard duty."

Khargic did look visibly relieved and he shared a toothy grin with the rest of his squad. "You hear that? Tamalaz the Fortunate mussst be watching over usss!"

"W-what do you mean?" Dejarin stammered, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Tamolith hasss been asssleep for nearly fourteen hoursss," Khargic replied, glancing back at the slumbering dragon. "I ssserved in the palace five yearsss ago... Baledranax never usssed to ssslumber for thisss long."

"Ssso the Empresss might awaken sssoon?" Dejarin asked, looking up at the draconic behemoth with interest.

Khargic clapped Dejarin on the shoulder and gave him a grim smile. "Exactly. Try not to make her angry... and you might sssurvive the night."

With that ominous declaration, Khargic and his squad hurried out of the Empress' chambers.

Dejarin and Vekgira exchanged a worried look, while the rest of the squad took an involuntary step back from the sleeping dragon.

Resigning himself to his fate, Dejarin began issuing orders. "I want all the entrancesss to the Royal sssuite covered equally. The Brimoriansss have sssupposssedly been eliminated, but I don't want to take any chancesss. I will ssstand vigil over the Empresss myssself."

Nodding to him with respect, Vekgira led the rest of the squad out of Tamolith's bedchamber, leaving Dejarin alone with those deep rumbling snores. He fidgeted anxiously, his eyes drawn to the deadly claws embedded in each of her weighty forelimbs. Each curved talon was more than long enough to run him through and he knew that the Empress would be able to shred him just as easily as the killing machine that had annihilated the Brimorians.

Tamolith suddenly twiched, her huge reptilian eyes snapping wide open. She let out a rasping cough that was dry and wheezy, as though her long serpentine neck was parched with thirst. The dragon staggered upright and lurched across the chamber to a bubbling fountain, her muzzle making a loud splash as she submerged her snout in the crystal-clear water. Dejarin watched in wonder as the Empress sprang into action, her colossal draconic form making him feel like an insignificant bug in her majestic presence.

She drank deep, her neck bobbing again and again as Tamolith swallowed down litres of water with desperate gulps. After downing enough to fill a small swimming pool, she reared back, a look of bewildered confusion on her scaly face. The Empress blinked rapidly, then a look of horrified disbelief crossed her features, quickly followed by a look of pure agony.

Dejarin's breath caught as he saw the dragon's expression contort with such anguish. Tamolith looked absolutely bereft, the endless well of pain in those amber orbs making his heart lurch in sympathy for her. She threw her head back and howled with grief, the thunderous outpouring of sorrow making him shake in his boots as he was buffeted by the noise.

The roar went on and on, knocking him back a step as he clamped his hands over his ears to muffle the dreadful dirge. The flicker of movement caught Tamolith's attention and her gaze snapped onto him, predatory eyes maddened with unbelievable sorrow. She reared back, her forelimb raised with claws fully-extended, ready to slash down and rip him asunder.

He held up his hands in a mute plea for mercy, Dejarin's terrified eyes momentarily meeting the Empress' grief-stricken gaze. Tamolith hesitated, the vengeful rage fading into a brief look of almost pleasant surprise, which was just as quickly swept away in an unbearable tide of sorrow.

"Leave me," she rumbled, thumping down onto all fours with a boom. "I wish to be left in peace to grieve for my precious darlings. None may enter these chambers without my permission... upon pain of death."

"Asss you wisssh, your Imperial Majesssty..." he stammered, backing away while bowing low.

Dejarin hurried towards the exit, only pausing to glance back when he reached the doors. Tamolith had moved to the open windows, where she leaned heavily against the frame, her attention drawn to the view of Kinta's lush tropical forests spread out below. She began to tremble, her shoulders shaking as her tortured sobs echoed around the room.

Feeling nothing but compassion for the heartbroken mother, Dejarin left the Royal chamber and sealed the door behind him, leaving Tamolith to her sorrow.

***

It was quiet on the Bridge of the Brimorian battleship, the silence only broken by intermittent commands given to the rest of Fleet Ungumoth. Shoal-Commander Olbhugh sighed in frustration, his fins drooping out of sheer boredom. He'd been tasked with protecting the Enclave siege ships and providing orbital support for each planetary invasion, but so far the Kintark hadn't attempted to defend their worlds with a single fleet engagement.

Olbhugh knew that most of the Kintark warships had been squandered in the doomed invasion of the Terran Federation, but if there were any survivors, they were sure to be guarding Kinta. Shoal Master Kaelotegh had chosen to launch a direct assault on the Kintark homeworld and Olbhugh longed to rejoin them, desperate for a chance to test his mettle against the lizardman forces. He got up from his command chair and walked around the Command Deck, just to give himself something to do. How he wished for some excitement to break the monotony.

Pausing by the comms officer, he tapped a clawed finger on her desk. "Any updates from our ground forces?"

The Wave-squire held her hand to the device in her ear and sat bolt upright. "Nothing of importance to report, Shoal-Commander! Otherwise I would have relayed any messages," she replied, her gills quivering with trepidation.

"I'm aware of that," he snorted in exasperation. "I'm not accusing you of ineptitude; I merely want to know their current status."

She relaxed and activated a holo-image of the jungle-covered planetoid. "After we eliminated the orbital defences, our siege craft landed outside Xen-Farash and the marines began occupation of the city. The Kintark garrisons retreated and are trapped in their bunkers to the north."

"Contact the Coast-Commander," Olbhugh requested, perking up at the prospect of some action.

The comms officer opened a channel with the leader of the Brimorian ground forces, who appeared on the holo-screen a few seconds later. The marine commander was fully submerged within his powered aquatic combat suit, bubbles surrounding his scaly features.

"This is Cisucht... Is there a problem, Shoal-Commander?" the Enclave marine responded, black eyes staring intently at the screen as the sound of combat could be heard in the background.

"I believe you've encountered some difficulty with the Kintark garrison," Olbhugh replied, trying not to sound too eager. "My fleet is available to provide an orbital bombardment..."

"That will not be necessary," Cisucht replied, yellow flashes from particle bolts reflected on his shimmering scales. "The Kintark are heavily outmatched and will be no threat. Driving these lizards from their nests is excellent training for my forces."

"Contact me if the situation changes," Olbhugh muttered, before glancing at the comms officer to end the call and returning to his station.

With a despondent sigh, Olbhugh slumped in the command chair, resigning himself to hours of mind-numbing tedium. When the ping of a sensor contact echoed across the Bridge, he practically leaped from his seat, delighted that something had broken the monotony of guard duty. More contacts appeared at the extreme edge of their sensor range, neatly arrayed in a fleet formation. The ships were heading directly towards his forces, approaching from the direction of the Brimorian border.

"I'm not aware of any scheduled reinforcements," he declared, activating the Sector Map and centring it on the incoming ships. "Has someone failed to inform me of new orders from the Deep Pool?"

"No, Shoal-Commander," the tactical officer replied, his fins stiff and alert. "I do not believe they are Enclave vessels."

Olbhugh frowned sceptically. "They can't be Kintark ships. There's been no sightings of Imperial forces anywhere near the border."

"I do not believe they are Kintark vessels either," the Wave-squire said, his tone urgent. "Their hyper-warp velocity greatly exceeds that of any ship I've ever seen!"

The Brimorian leader double-checked the holographic map, then stared at the mysterious fleet in astonishment. The sensor contacts were travelling at triple the fastest speed his battleship could reach. "Contact the Deep Pool. Provide as much data about that fleet as possible and ask if they can identify who it belongs to."

After acknowledging the orders with a nod, the comms officer turned back to his station to carry them out. A few moments later, he blurted out, "There's no response from the border comms beacon! Our connection to Brimor is broken, Shoal-Commander!"

Retaking his seat, Olbhugh began issuing rapid orders to fleet Ungumoth, redeploying the Enclave warships into a defensive screen to protect the besieging troops. A score of deadly cruisers were at the forefront of the Brimorian formation, with his six powerful battleships providing fire support in the centre. He kept the destroyers back to protect the invasion craft from harassment by fighters, assigning the strike craft squadrons from his four heavy carriers to defend the warfleet.

The huge capital ships reminded him of lumbering Megacaradon as they moved into position, each leviathan surrounded by scurrying schools of smaller fish. Watching the unparalleled might of a Brimorian warfleet readying itself for combat was an awe-inspiring sight and Olbhugh allowed himself a confident grin. The unknown fleet might be fast, but they were heavily outnumbered, and he couldn't wait to see them flee in terror when they saw how much firepower they were facing.

He found himself counting the seconds as the mysterious fleet approached, until they finally came close enough to be depicted on the holo map. Olbhugh stared at the alien craft in bewilderment, not recognising the unusual designs or their gleaming golden hulls. Whatever species created them, the ships looked sleek and dangerous, their topdecks covered in an intimidating array of weapon barrels.

"Hail them," he ordered, clenching the arms of his chair to maintain a calm composure.

The Wave-squire nodded and tried to open a comms channel, but to no avail. "They're not responding, Shoal-Commander."

Olbhugh rasped his needle-like teeth and studied their fleet composition. There were three larger spacecraft in the centre of what appeared to be a formation of twenty cruisers, the hulls of the bigger warships festooned with enough weapons that he was certain they were battleship class vessels. There was also a trio of bulkier capital ships at the rear and judging by their absence of guns, the Brimorian leader concluded they were heavy carriers. All in all, it was a respectably sized force, but they still only had half the numbers of the Enclave battlegroup assembled before them.

Feeling more confident, he waited as the golden fleet approached, watching as the ships dropped out of hyper-warp at the edge of the system. The mysterious aliens showed no sign of stopping and ramped up their engines to full thrust, heading straight for his defensive position. Strike craft poured out of the capital ships at the rear of the formation, confirming his guess that they were carriers.

"Incoming hail, Shoal-Commander!" the comms officer called out in warning.

"I knew the sight of all our guns would put them in a talkative mood," Olbhugh chuckled, studying the unknown fleet with a smug grin as he recognised their posturing for what it was. He straightened in his chair. "Let's hear what they have to say."

The Wave-squire shook her head. "No, not them... it's Shoal-Commander Faogh, from Fleet Naiorrid."

Olbhugh frowned in confusion. "Alright... put him through."

The face of the Brimorian Shoal-Commander filled the holo-screen, his black eyes wide with fear. "Help us, Olbhugh! I'm begging you!"

"Faogh! What happened?" Olbhugh blurted out, rising from his chair. "Where are you?!"

"It was a trap! My ships were damaged... we got left behind!" the terrified officer gasped. "Now they're hunting us!"

"I've found Fleet Naiorrid, Shoal Commander!" the Wave-squire on tactical interrupted, highlighting the Brimorian fleet on the extreme edge of the Sector Map.

Olbhugh glanced up at the holographic image and saw that the damaged Enclave force was limping his way.

"Where's the Shoal Master?" he demanded, staring at the frightened leader of Fleet Naiorrid. "What happened to Kaelotegh?!"

"I don't know... but they just annihilated Fleet Enghebil! Slaughtered every last ship! They must have killed Kaelotegh too!" Faogh blurted out, darting a fearful look offscreen. "By the depths! Here they come!"

There was another cluster of sensor contacts rapidly closing on Fleet Naiorrid's position, the mysterious fleet moving far faster than the Brimorian warships.

"Who's hunting you, Faogh?" Olbhugh demanded, his heart pounding in his chest. "Who are they?!"

"It's the Maliri!" Faogh wailed, his voice warbling in terror. "They're here to kill us all!"

Olbhugh froze and slowly turned to stare wide-eyed at the golden warships surging towards him.

"Maliri..." he whispered, his voice filled with dread.

The golden-hulled cruisers at the front of the formation shifted position, raising their elevation as they glided to a halt. Behind them the three enormous Maliri battleships drifted forward, retro-thrusters flaring to slow the massive vessels. At the forefront of the lead warship, a dazzling blue light was starting to gather at the bow, growing fiercer in its intensity until it hurt to even look at the holographic map.

"What is that light?" Olbhugh stammered, darting a frantic glance at his tactical officer. "What are they doing?!"

A brilliant column of energy lanced across the map, the dazzling line searing itself onto Olbhugh's retinas. The incandescent blast slammed into the battleship on his starboard flank, causing its shield to convulse under the onslaught until it collapsed under the strain. The Nova Lance scythed through the Brimorian capital ship obliterating everything in its path, triggering a Power Core meltdown that atomised whatever was left.

Mouth open in shock, Olbhugh couldn't believe what he'd just seen. One of his fleet's mightiest warships had just been vaporised with a single shot.

"Run!" Faogh shrieked in warning, his face on the holo-screen contorted in terror. "Flee for your lives!"