10. Krogoth

Chapter 10

Krogoth

Exiles

I stand in the Command Bridge looking out of the view port. We should have visual contact with the station soon and stifle a yawn. I got little sleep last night, especially after Pebbles had woken me, with eyes blazing with naked lust. It all seems a blur now, our bodies entwined half asleep in the dark. It had surprised me and soon awakened my senses; I had expected she was waking me to beg I take her back to Earth immediately. I grin widely, thinking about our night, the lust she feels for me. Maybe she will give herself over to my affections. Maybe Astraxius is right, and it is just a matter of time? It is as if the weight of the universe is lifting from my shoulders.

I take in a deep breath and remind myself that I must still be cautious. It might not mean all I hope it does. But I could scent that she was near ovulation, perhaps driven by a simple lust for the closest acceptable male. Which is not a commitment to stay. The weight of our mission comes crashing back down, the weight fully on my shoulders. It is fine. I prefer pressure; we are old friends now.

My mind drifts back to last night. I nearly hurt Pebbles when I ground up against her. It had taken all my willpower to not thrust my cock into her sweet, tight cunt. My full balls ache dully in protest at the memory of being denied release. How wondrous it will feel to claim her finally, to fill her with my seed. The thought sends waves of adrenaline coursing through me. But she is not ready. The size difference between Klendathian and humans is too great. I will need more time to coax her sweet cunt to accept my cock. In the mean time, I look forward to training my Pebbles. The real question is, can it be done before she leaves?

From the view port, Terminus Exile Station appears, an irrelevant speck of metal sparkling in the distance. It looks so small and innocent you would almost believe there is no danger. I know better. During my Proving Pilgrimage, the rite all young Klendathian warriors must undergo, I endured as a mercenary. Rare contracts had taken me to this forsaken station, where the greatest danger came not from the targets themselves but from the endless scum that inhabited it.

I adjust our speed as the station looms into view. The dock controllers are most likely on high alert, noticing a Scythian battlebarge approaching. I smile, imagining how hysterical the gangs will be, believing the Scythians are finally coming to crush them. As if they would bother with such a useless place as this.

However, that had not always been the case. The station was once not a station at all, but a massive asteroid mining operation for Elerium. For centuries, they cored it out as the miners greedily dug deeper into the rock until all that remains today is a floating disk-shaped station that trails along thousands of tube-like tunnels. It resembles some strange metallic sea creature floating in space.

Close enough now to hail them, I can see the coming and going of smaller vessels. The whizzing of the Command Bridge door catches my attention as I turn to see Xandor enter the room.

"Hail, High Chieftain," he says, saluting.

"Hail, friend," I respond, nodding in acknowledgement as he joins me at the view port.

"Ah, we've arrived then. Forgot how ugly this shithole is," Xandor says, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Ugly inside and out." I snort. "Opening a channel." I patch a docking request to the station's docks controllers.

After a longer than usual pause, an anxious voice crackles through the communication channel. "Scythian battlebarge, you must lower your shields to allow a scan in order to dock."

"They can't be serious," Xandor says, his disbelief clear in his tone.

I notice the station has more than a few of its defense cannons pointing our direction. "It's fine. They are afraid we're going to drop an army of battle droids on them," I reply to Xandor, before sending a communication back to the station, agreeing to the demand. "But, Xandor, be quick to steer us out of range if they attack… just in case."

As I enter the command to lower the ship's shields, its blue light shimmers before disappearing, and the low hum of the ship fades into a deathly silence. The next few moments seem to stretch on forever as we wait in tense anticipation.

Finally, a blue gleaming light emits from the station. It runs from the front of the ship to the back.

"Oh, I felt a tickle there," Xandor quips, eliciting a chuckle from me.

"Probably took them longer scanning your massive head," I tease.

"Massive balls more—" he retorts before being interrupted by a message from the Dock Controllers.

"Scythian battlebarge, you are clear to dock on the condition you come aboard unarmed," the voice on the other end demands.

"Gods, these guys are pissing themselves,"Xandor mutters, shaking his head.

I communicate back that their terms are acceptable and begin maneuvering the ship to the empty docking bay. "Now they know how few we are. Unarmed, they think they can control us. But we are never truly unarmed," I finish, extending my long claws, grinning at Xandor.

"We'll tear their guts out if they try anything,"Xandor adds, showing his fangs, his expression fierce.

I stand in the Docking Hatch, about to disembark. I summoned the entire crew to brief them about the hunt ahead of us. Eight war brothers wait patiently, lined up on either side of the room. Xandor looks around eagerly while tapping his foot. Astraxius has his eyes glued to his wrist console as usual. Just waiting for Pebbles now . I haven't mentioned this hunt to her yet; I'm worried she will want to come with me. Which is out of the question. It would be hard enough avoiding a knife in the gut myself, never mind with tiny Pebbles in the midst. I won't let any harm come to her.

War Chieftain Gorexius had ordered all my veteran warriors onto other ships when I left the Nebian battlefront for repairs, leaving me with a skeleton crew of inexperienced warriors, their hair still short after their Proving Pilgrimage. I sigh. It's an enormous risk to leave the ship in such hostile territory with so few. However, the young fighters fought well and survived the Seeker Swarm assault, proving their bravery.

My heart feels lighter in my chest as the door whizzes open to reveal Pebbles. What is she wearing? She has cut her robes to reveal more soft curves and smooth skin. I raise an eyebrow as she approaches. The warriors all nod respectfully as she passes. She glances between the warriors and me as if she expects something to happen. She looks so inviting in her altered clothes; it is difficult not to sweep her up in my arms and take her back to my room for more ‘training.'

"Hail, Pebbles." I bend forward, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Hey, Krogoth." She squeezes her tiny self against my waist. "What's going on?" she asks, her eyes concerned.

"I am just about to brief everyone," I say, putting my hand on her shoulder. "As some of you may know, we have now docked at the Terminus Exile Station," I say loudly, glancing at everyone in attendance. "We need to secure Elerium and repairs for the ship if we are to make it back to Klendathor successfully. Xandor, Logarn, Traxios and I together will disembark to this wretched, crime-ridden cesspool, and gain what we need." I gesture to the three warriors, who salute. "The rest of you, I want armored and protecting the ship for any potential attacks. The ship is a tempting prize since it is guarded by so few. But you are not any random ganger scum but the finest warriors in the universe! Stay alert. Dismissed." As I conclude my orders, I look at the remaining six warriors, who all salute back.

"You're not taking me with you?" Pebbles says, her eyes narrowing.

"No, your life would be in grave danger," I say, rubbing my hand along her shoulders.

"Danger? Then why aren't you and your men wearing your armor?" She rapidly waves her hand, pointing to my robes. "You don't even have your wrist armor on." She grips my sleeve, inspecting.

She has a keen eye, my little female. "It has to be this way, or they will deny us entry," I explain calmly.

"I don't like this, Krogoth. I have a bad feeling. Please don't go," she says, her eyes pleading with me to reconsider.

"I'm sorry. I have no choice. Besides, I have my Second Xandor here to watch my back." I grin, looking at Xandor, hoping it will reassure Pebbles somewhat.

"Yes, I'll keep him safe. You have my word, Rocks," Xandor says, giving a brief but solemn bow towards her.

"Wait, I've seen you before - I recognize your long green hair… You ran away when you saw me in the corridor before." She releases her hug and stares at Xandor, eyes focused.

"Ah, that, yes… I had merely for—" He scratches the back of his head.

"Xandor was just following my orders," I interject quickly to spare my friend any further embarrassment.

Xandor leans in closer to me and Pebbles, his voice low and confidential. "Truth is, Rocks, Krogoth knows of my legendary reputation with the females, so he grew concerned." I can see the relief in his eyes, as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

"Pfft! I just wanted to spare poor Pebbles from all your drooling." I laugh, slapping Xandor on his back.

The noise of the slap seems to have awoken Astraxius from his reading. "Oh, greetings, Rocks, I did not notice you come in." He glances around the room quickly. "You two still haven't left yet?" He sighs, gawking between Xandor and me.

"Hello again, Astraxius," she says, waving and smiling sweetly, far too sweet for the old grump.

"I was about to say, Pebbles, you'll have the charming Astraxius to keep you company while I'm away." I smile at her. "Try not to bore her to death, Astraxius." I turn my head, smirking at him.

"Yes, an almost illiterate barbarian who bashes stuff over the head for a living would be a tough act to follow," he quips, smiling.

Xandor and I explode into laughter, which soon infects Astraxius, who begins chuckling. Pebbles glances at everyone, looking so confused.

"Very good, old one." I wipe the moisture from my eyes. "Please watch over her."

"It'll be my pleasure. Take care out there, warriors," Astraxius says, his face showing concern while saluting.

I take Pebbles' tiny hands in my own. "I must go now, beautiful Pebbles. Please don't worry. I won't be gone long." I give her a light squeeze. Feeling her softness against my skin, I lean down to kiss her full lips. They open, allowing my tongue to slip in greedily, searching her sweet, warm, wet mouth. Our tongues meet, caressing each other while our lips simultaneously massage each other. My heart thumps in my chest, hungry for more than I can have right now.

Xandor whistles loudly.

Breaking the kiss, I say, "I'll come back for you, and we can get you home safe."

"You better," Pebbles says, smiling, looking up beneath her eyelashes.

Pebbles, Astraxius and the others move to leave the docking hatch back into the ship, leaving Xandor, Logarn, Traxios and me. Eager to get to this over with, I activate the docking hatch as soon as everyone else has left the room. The massively thick doors slide open, protesting with the grinding sound of metal on metal as it does so.

I lead the way down the ramp. The station's docking bays are huge, built hundreds or maybe thousands of years ago to allow enormous transport ships to ferry off mined Elerium or cored out asteroid rock. It is tall and wide enough to fit my ship many times over. Walking in such a place feels like you are in a huge cavern underground, our footsteps echoing ominously with each step as we make our way towards the dock's exit.

As I open the docking bay door, a dozen males of various alien species wearing black trousers and shirts greet us, with red colored plated boots, vests and helmets. Each of them bears a patch on their arm depicting a roaring beast in red. They all have some basic ballistic carbine weapon pointed in our direction. Looks like the Crimson Beasts are the ones in control of the station, for now at least.

"Don't make any sudden moves!" says the gray skinned Argorian. He is presumably their leader because of his helmet having a winged portion. "Walk through the scanning gate." I look amongst the other three to see their reaction. "If you don't like it, you can fly the void off."

My muscles tense. The Crimson Beasts are standing far enough back. It would be unlikely we could reach them before they killed us at range first. I shrug and begin walking towards the door shaped opening in the middle of the room. I must duck my head in under to pass through it.

A curse escapes the lips of the Argorian leader, his voice barely above a whisper. "Monstrous abominations," he hisses.

As I step through the gateway, a flickering blue light envelops me, casting an ethereal glow over my surroundings. "Now the rest of you," the leader barks. His gaze locks intently on the console before him.

Xandor, Logarn, and Traxios stride through the gateway in single file, their every move tracked by the ominous barrels of the Crimson Beast's weapons. A hush falls over the scene as our two groups lock eyes, each sizing up the other for any hint of aggression. After a tense moment, the Crimson Beast leader speaks, his gaze fixed on his fellows. "They're unarmed, clad only in their robes," he mutters, glancing briefly at his console. "Stand down." With a collective sigh, the Crimson Beasts reluctantly lower their weapons, their relief at the de-escalation of the situation palpable.

"Access granted… My boss has a proposition for you, if you're in the market for some mercenary work," the leader announces, already making his way towards the exit with his men in tow. "Just ask for Javik, and someone will set you on the right path." His parting words hang heavy in the air, hinting at the dangerous yet thrilling opportunities that await us within the murky depths of the station.

A smug grin creeps across Xandor's face as he interjects, "Told you they were pissing themselves."

"Javik could be a viable option, but I'm not keen on getting tangled up in the sordid politics of this cesspool." With those words, I make my way towards the exit. "I know a barman at the Solarstorm. He may still be there and could help point us in the right direction." The prospect of finding a reliable guide amidst the lawless chaos of the station is the best option.

As the exit door creaks open, it unleashes the full horror of the Terminus Exile Station upon me. A noxious stench, reminiscent of rotting refuse, assails my senses, threatening to overpower me. The recycled oxygen is thick and humid, almost tangible in its clammy texture, seeming to cling to my skin like a malevolent entity seeking to infect all it touches.

The bustling docking area of the station is a chaotic scene, teeming with a sea of desperate souls in tattered clothing. They swarm around any passing ship, beseeching its crew with a barrage of offers, credits, labor, even their own bodies, all in exchange for a way off the forsaken station.

The station sprawls out before me, a vast expanse of open space stretching upward to a distant ceiling. Its interior is bathed in a dim, almost oppressive gloom, illuminated only by flickering, lackluster lights. The makeshift dwellings scattered throughout the space are haphazardly constructed from flimsy sheets of metal, their fragile exteriors offering little protection against the harsh reality outside.

Amidst the tight, narrow streets, heaps of uncollected waste and debris formed unsightly mounds. The station gangs have defaced the walls and buildings with graffiti, each mark serving as a bold proclamation of territory. Disheveled addicts, lost to the haze of Scoomer, a potent yet perilous drug, lie strewn about amongst the refuse, their tattered forms a sad testament to the harshness of life on the station.

Leading the way with unwavering determination, I navigate the labyrinthine alleys towards the Solarstorm bar, relying on my memory to guide us through the treacherous terrain. Suddenly, a half-starved Jungarian male, eyes massively dilated with constant Scoomer abuse, appears before us, desperation etched on his face. "Please take me with you." My heartstrings tug at the pitiful sight, yet I know better than to let compassion cloud my judgment in this cutthroat environment. Ignoring his pleas, I forge ahead, my resolve hardening with each step. This wretched sewer of a station is an abomination, a blight on the very fabric of the universe. And I swear under my breath, vowing never to return to this wretched place.

At long last, we arrive at our destination, a huge metal edifice nestled in the darkest corners of the labyrinthine alleys. The flickering neon yellow lights above the entrance, spelling out the word Solarstorm, offers little reassurance of safety in this forsaken place. Gunshots and explosions echo in the distance, a constant reminder of the perilous nature of our task. As I approach, I notice several bedraggled figures scattered about the building, their haggard appearances a testament to the ravages of addiction and despair. One of them slurs his words, offering us a dose of Grade A Scoomer. The graffiti-laden walls bear witness to the frequent eruptions of violence that plague this accursed station, pockmarked with bullet holes and the scars of a thousand fights. With a deep breath, I push open the creaking metal door and step into the fray.

A thick haze of smoke envelops me, carrying with it the pungent scent of various alien species' tobacco and pipes. The patrons, a motley crew of creatures from distant planets, cluster around tables, engaging in intense card games and lively betting. Some hold mugs of frothy drinks, while others puff on ornate pipes. Over the cacophony of raucous laughter and animated chatter, a faint melody hums in the background, lending a surreal quality to the atmosphere. And amidst it all, huddled figures whisper conspiratorially, their secrets hidden in the smoky mist.

As I scan the bustling bar, my eyes lock onto a familiar figure behind the counter. Briegs the Argorian, my old friend. He looks harried in his dirty white apron and black overalls, his spikey head ridges and ears jutting out from his gray skin. But it's the milky white eyes that give away his true exhaustion. I make a beeline for him, aware of the gazes that follow me. After all, Klendathians like me are a rare sight, and our towering size always draws attention. As I approach Briegs, I can feel the curious stares of the patrons boring into my back.

A wide grin spreads across my face. "Hail, Briegs, my old friend!" I exclaim, reaching over the counter to offer him my hand.

Briegs looks up from pouring a drink, his expression morphing from surprise to delight as he recognizes me. "Krogoth, is that you?" he says, smiling as he clasps my forearm.

We exchange pleasantries for a moment, catching up on old times, before I get down to business. "I need a pound of refined Elerium and fifty tons of arcweave plating to repair my ship," I inform him.

Briegs's eyes widen in disbelief. "You're serious?" he says, shaking his head. "Jeez, that's a tall order, Krogoth. I hope you've brought a lot of credits with you."

I admit to Briegs that I have no credits on me. "Not a one," I say, looking a little dismayed. "The bastards at the dock wouldn't let us bring anything." I shrug, feeling frustrated.

Briegs shakes his head and smirks at my audacious request. "Unbelievable, even for you," he says. "Looks like you're going to have to do some mercenary work, my friend. Luckily, there's plenty of it around here, if you know where to look."

I scan the room, wondering where to start, when Briegs leans in closer and whispers, "The leader of the Psykes gang is in the back there." He nods towards a shadowy back room. "He's got more ships than anyone else on this station. Reckon he can help you repair your ship, if you can convince him."

"Interesting. I'll speak to him. We were also told to seek Javik for work. You know anything about that?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.

"Javik, eh?" Briegs says, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I've been hearing some strange things. Word on the station is that the Whores Orphans hit something big on one of their pirate excursions and stole something valuable. Now the Crimson Beasts are desperate to get it, but they're trying to feign respectability these days, so they won't move openly without just cause."

I flash a daring grin, relishing the thrill of the challenge. "Desperate is good, Briegs. Desperate means more credits," I say, determined to take my chances with Javik. "Thanks for your help, as always. You sure you don't want a lift out of this gods forsaken station?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I like it here. Plenty of action and easy credits for a guy like me." Briegs chuckles, slipping me detailed instructions on Javik's whereabouts.

"I owe you one, my friend," I say, firmly clasping his forearm. "Until we meet again, Briegs."

"Good luck, Krogoth," Briegs replies, releasing my grip with a nod.

With a nod of farewell, I make my way through the crowded bar towards the back room with the Psykes leaders' location.

I approach a door enveloped in neon tubing of every color and stride through. Inside, a dense fog obscures the figures sitting around a small metal table with bench seating surrounding it. As the mist clears, I spot four Glaseroid aliens, their thin, spindly limbs holding up their flat, narrow heads with two large antennae protruding from the top. With four legs and six arms, only two of which are equipped with hands, the other four serve as deadly, bladed sensors — a nod to their evolutionary roots of crawling along the ground.

Upon noticing we entered the room, the four Glaseroid aliens leap out of their seats, their thin, spindly limbs quivering with fear. "Klendathians! Who sent you, the Osiron scum? We pay more!" one of them cries out, his gold-tipped antennae quivering in desperation. His frantic speech makes it impossible to answer his questions as he squirms into the corner of the room, his eyes darting nervously around.

"Compose yourselves. We come seeking trade," I declare, struggling to hide my disdain for their cowardice.

As the Glaseroid with golden-tipped antennae clears his throat, I cannot help but clench my fists. However, he assumes an air of authority and introduces himself as Yaksai, the mighty leader of the Psykes.

I cut to the chase and state my demands: "I require a pound of refined Elerium and my ship repaired, which requires fifty tons of arcweave," I say, tapping my foot impatiently.

To my surprise, Yaksai bursts into laughter, his bug eyes twinkling with delight. "Yes, you amuse me! I cannot part with my precious Elerium; it is vital to my fleet. I can repair your vessel. What do you offer in trade?"

With a ferocious expression, Xandor strides menacingly towards Yaksai, closing the gap between them. "You pathetic, bug-eyed cretin! Moments ago, you offered us anything to save your pathetic lives!" Xandor growls, his sharp claws gleaming dangerously in the light.

Yaksai appears momentarily startled by Xandor's fierce aggression but swiftly regains his composure. "That was then, and this is now. You understand, yes? And do not forget, who would repair your ship if you attacked us?" he retorts, attempting to ease the tension.

Intrigued, Yaksai continues with a probing question. "Curious. Yes, what kind of ship needs such extensive arcweave repairs?"

Quickly intervening before the situation can escalate, I step forward, positioning my arm protectively in front of Xandor, guiding him to stand down.

"Our vessel is a Scythian battlebarge," I reveal, my voice tense with anticipation. "A Seeker Swarm ambushed us during our travels."

Suddenly, Yaksai's eyes lit up with new found interest. "A Scythian battlebarge! Never has one docked at Terminus Exile Station," he exclaims, his fingers tapping eagerly against his chin. "You gift us one of your precious Klendathian warvisors. I know a collector who will pay a fortune for one, and we, the Psykes, will repair your ship, yes?" he declares, his gaze fixed intently upon me.

Xandor's voice booms with rage, his every word dripping in venom that echoes throughout the room.

"How dare you demand a Klendathian warvisor! It is our sacred duty to return them to our home world," he thunders, his arms flailing wildly in frustration. "For all we know, you could intend to steal our ship!"

Yaksai's sharp tongue cuts through the tension in the air like a razor-sharp blade, his bug eyes narrowing to slits as he fixates on Xandor. "You really ought to keep him on a tighter leash," he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. "And as for the warvisor, if it were easy to obtain, it wouldn't be worth the work we're giving for it, yes? I tire of his tantrums. I demand an answer, and I demand it now."

Already I have made my mind up as I prepare to double-cross this loathsome creature. "Your terms are acceptable, but the repairs must be completed before the delivery of the warvisor—" I begin, but Xandor's pleading interrupts me.

"Don't do this, Chieftain!" he implores, his eyes filled with apprehension.

Yaksai eagerly chimes in, "Offer accepted gratefully! Yes… your name?" he exclaims, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Krogoth," I say. With an air of cold detachment, I discuss the details of where the ship is located.

Now just to get some Elerium.