The bridge crew collectively held their breath, every eye on the door that led to the Mid Deck. More gunfire rang out, several weapons firing in tandem. There was the rapid sound of metal boots, clanking against the floor of the corridor. A few muffled yells, one or two more gunshots. Then a loud slam on the door, and all was quiet.
“I’ve locked that door down completely.” Nivi’s timid whisper broke the silence. “You can only open it from this console.” The young woman’s hands were trembling.
A loud crash caused Nalyra to jump. Another blow shook the door, and dented it in slightly. The Crown Daughter could only stare in disbelief, eyes wide, as a third strike bent the metal door even further. A shudder of dread ran down her spine as armor-plated fingers pushed themselves through the small gap in the door. There was a whine of servos and motors, and the doors started to shift.
Mikka was standing ready, her sidearm in her hand, but she didn’t dare shoot while the risk of a fatal ricochet was so high. Not that her weapon could have hurt their invaders in the first place…
Slowly, the door was pried open, the alien’s armored suit proving superior to the door’s motors. A loud *snap* sounded throughout the room as the door’s internal mechanisms gave in to the force.
The Ydani suit stepped into the room.
Nalyra got her first good look at her enemies. The thing was not like other Ydani tech that she had seen so far. This suit was almost sleek, a black synthetic underlayer armored in overlapping plates of dark metal. Reinforced gauntlets, pauldrons, and leg plating gave the thing a hulking silhouette, contrasting the almost intricate lines worked into its armor. A faceless helmet sat atop its shoulders, with a narrow visor that glowed orange, as if filled with fury.
Instinctively, Nalyra reacted, reaching out with her power, intending to Take the mind of this alien who dared set foot in her sanctum. As soon as her thoughts reached it, they twisted, skidding painfully off of the alien’s helmet. She drew back, teeth bared, recoiling from the shock.
At the same time, Vessa sucked in a sharp breath, and Soreth hissed in pain. Crown-kin, both of them, powerful psychics in their own right, and still their minds had struck the same invisible wall, thwarted by whatever mental defenses the Ydani had put in their armored suits.
Three more of the suited aliens poured into the room, rifles raised. The lead suit pointed its weapon at Nalyra, the intent clear. Surrender, or die.
She could Cast. Perhaps. A burst of force might throw the lead alien back through the ruined doorway. But three more rifles were already sweeping over her crew, and one panicked twitch would turn her bridge into a slaughterhouse. She would not risk them. Her crew. Her subjects. Her people.
Slowly, the Crown Daughter raised her hands, showing she was unarmed. All around the bridge, her crew copied her, moving away from their consoles and raising their hands. Mikka also slowly complied, gently placing her sidearm on her console and stepping away from it.
Shame burned hot behind Nalyra’s eyes, fierce enough that she had to force herself not to blink. She was a Crown Daughter, a Royal Hand — the height of authority the average Zakkili could scarcely imagine, let alone aspire to. Yet here she was, at the mercy of an alien. A primitive. If she had only had a mark or two…she likely would have been able to push through the Ydani’s psychic countermeasures. But she didn’t have a mark. She didn’t even have a second.
The lead alien approached her, its three companions keeping their weapons trained on the cowed bridge crew. It stowed its weapon at its side, and raised its forearm, where a small screen sat. It paused, and after a moment, Zakkili text crawled across its surface.
[Royal Hand], order your crew to stand down. Resist and face termination.
Nalyra glared up at the ‘face’ of the armored suit. After all the humiliation they had already put her through, they demanded she surrender? Openly? A single twitch of her ears betrayed her fury, her shame.
One of the other aliens swept its rifle sights over her body, the message clear.
Slowly, the Crown Daughter moved over to her command station, swiping across the holographic controls, projecting her voice across the Mid Deck.
“Attention, all soldiers of the Saint’s Aegis. Stand down, stand down immediately. The bridge has been taken.”
On the flickering security feeds, she saw Armswomen dropping their weapons obediently, surrendering to the alien invaders. They would rather die than see their Royal Hand harmed, and by announcing that the bridge had been taken, Nalyra had told them all they needed to know.
The Star Citadel had fallen.
While the other suited aliens shepherded the captured bridge crew into a corner, the lead suit stood there, looking down at Nalyra. She stared defiantly back at it, refusing to be cowed by these bold invaders.
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The Ydani suit made a half turn, hunching over slightly. Its back plates unfolded, reminding Nalyra of an insect unsheathing its wings. The back of the suit cracked open, and an alien climbed out of it.
It was familiar, bipedal. Roughly the same body plan as a Zakkili, but exaggerated to a ridiculous scale. He was a male, or at least she assumed so. No feminine curves, no softness of chest or hip that she recognized, only a broad torso and toned arms. His exposed skin was a warm, pale red, the color of unfired clay beneath the harsh lines of his simple military uniform. Old scars ran over his bare arms, marking him a soldier, a fighter. A tail had followed him out of the armor, slipping free from some hidden channel in the suit. It was not particularly long, only hanging down to his knees, and covered in skin like the rest of him. It barely moved. A counterbalance, perhaps? Some vestigial organ? Or simply another alien oddity she did not yet understand.
The Ydani’s hair was ashen gray, and surprisingly well-kept, pulled over his shoulder into a simple tie. Two thick horns, only slightly darker red than his skin, swept back over his skull before curling upward into blunt, dull points. Perhaps the alien’s most striking feature was his one visible eye, glowing with a soft, golden light, its pupil only slightly lighter than the rest. Though he presumably had another, it was covered by a rough cloth band, wrapped around his head at an angle. The tip of a scar peeked out from underneath it.
Nalyra stared, dumbfounded once again. This alien, this Ydani was tall. It wasn’t just the suit. Even without it, the Ydani had to be around six feet tall, perhaps only a foot less than the armored suit he had stepped out of. His movements were calm, unhurried. The alien shed his armored suit in the heart of an enemy battleship with the same ease she might discard her dress in the privacy of her cabin.
A small part of her whispered to Take his mind, now that he was unprotected, away from his armor and defenses. To bend him to her will and take control. She bit back the impulse. She had already lost far too much by underestimating these aliens. For all she knew, the Ydani had some kind of failsafe implanted in his brain. Maybe a detonator, or some kind of device that would alert his allies and signal them to fill the bridge with molten tungsten and Zakkili blood the moment their leader’s mind was compromised.
Leader. Yes, there was no doubt in her mind that he was the leader. Of this squad at least, and perhaps of the entire Ydani boarding party. Something about him, the way he moved, the confidence in his posture, told her that this was no mere grunt, no simple soldier following orders.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nalyra tracked one of the armored Ydani, snapping simple restraints onto the wrists of her bridge crew. Vessa accepted the magnetic bands with silent dignity. Mikka had her teeth bared in a silent snarl, glaring up at her captor as she held her hands out. White hot rage coursed through Nalyra’s stomach. How dare these aliens?
No one placed restraints on the Crown Daughter. That, somehow, made the insult worse. The invaders did not need her bound. Not while every weapon in the room was pointed at her people.
The Ydani in front of her moved, and she turned to stare at him once more. His mouth opened, and the Crown Daughter got her first taste of the Ydani language. It was an odd thing. Around half of the words sounded ceremonious, or mournful, flowing from the alien’s lips. The other half were short, choppy words, as if butchered versions of something greater. Overall, a far cry from the elegance and grace of spoken Zakkili.
“Al’fen bek kal Vaen re’cor, gen kaeyon ay’hen nar tor bis naeli.”
Nalyra stared at him, raising an eyebrow. Did he expect her to understand his odd, broken-sounding language? He dipped his head, gesturing downwards. On his forearm was another device, with a dark blue screen, similar to the one that was embedded in the arm of his mechanized suit. A line of Zakkili words ran across it.
They will be unharmed, if you cooperate with me.
She glared up at the Ydani, and nodded, inclining her head the slightest bit. Hatred made her grit her teeth.
It was apparently enough to satisfy her captor, as he nodded as well, then launched into another stream of his strange words. This time, Nalyra kept her eyes on the small screen, waiting for the translation. As expected, the words flashed across the screen a moment later.
Contact your [Queen Matriarch]. We know you have the technology. Immediately.
Nalyra stared at the Zakkili letters, her ears ringing. Had the Maker abandoned the Crown Daughter? Had Nalyra done something to anger Her? Was her defeat, her shame, not already great enough? Must she report her failure directly to the Queen Matriarch? The thoughts whirled inside her head, threatening to bleed out and broadcast her inner turmoil to the entire bridge.
The Crown Daughter snapped her mind shut, killing off the emotions with an ease born from decades of practice.
Her gaze rose, finding the Ydani staring at her evenly, his golden eye fixed on her face. A surge of defiance welled within her, until the alien flicked his eye towards the corner of the bridge where her people were being held, for just a moment. His meaning was clear: Their safety is entirely in your hands.
Fine. So be it. No matter if she was a captive, she was still the Royal Hand of the Saint’s Aegis. She would do her duty to her people. Slowly, she nodded at the Ydani.
Nalyra made her way over to her seat, under the watchful eye of her captor. She tapped a few times at the controls embedded in the armrest, her motions stiff, almost robotic. It seemed as though the Aegis had finally processed and dumped all the junk data, responding to her commands quickly, almost eagerly. As she entered the final command, a prompt popped up, asking for her confirmation. She leaned closer to the panel.
“Confirmation code: Providence-372-Omega.” She whispered, a sliver of dread working its way through her mind.
The panel gave a soft chime, acknowledging her request, and she imagined she could *hear* the large window pop up on the main viewport. The Ydani shifted around her, moving to keep both her and the viewport in his line of sight. Slowly, Nalyra straightened up, and turned to face the main display.
A moment later, it was filled by the faintly bemused face of Queen Matriarch Azora, the sole leader of the Zakkili Divine Monarchy. Her mother.