Echoes of Harmony

Hammer of Druth

Stariek Orbit

2 Thorrig’s Rise, 6F1

“You have the battle well in hand, High King,” said Rakgrael Metalbreaker, who had moved during the confrontation to stand next to the throne. “Once we destroy the station and capture the planet, we will be well on our way to making history. From here, on to Hyperia, where their filthy Council will beg for mercy that will not come.”

Thaseas smirked. The dwarf had always been ambitious. That’s why he agreed to go along with Thaseas in his bid for power. If anything, this expedition proved how arrogant Rakgrael was. Not that he had any reason to not be. Sometimes, though, it paid to be more careful.

Regardless, he looked to the tactical display in the center of the circle. Every single Hyperion ship had been destroyed, left nothing more than wreckages. Some escape pods launched. That was fine. They would be captured and sent to the mines with all the others the Druthagar captured from this area. There would be no escape from the Druthagar Kingdom.

The one sticking point was the space station. Vertyn as they called it. How they even came up with such a name was beyond him. Regardless of its name, it so far managed to repel all attempts at their boarding. Thaseas would prefer taking the station and using it as their own over destroying it. However, they already lost five warships in the attempt. At some point, he needed to cut his losses. Another few minutes, and he would order its destruction, before he lost more soldiers. More importantly, before Hyperion reinforcements were able to arrive.

“Void Admiral, I am detecting missile launches from the surface.”

The voice came from the Deepstone Tactician, Jaznar Oresunder, in charge of the tactical station. Even though he knew the statement wasn’t for him, the high king couldn’t help but take control. Thaseas felt he moved in slow motion when he looked between the holographic board and the dwarf. The planet was overwhelmingly large in the display. Sure enough, he watched small red dots appear from over a thousand points around the surface. They moved quickly—far quicker than he expected.

And their trajectory was shown as directly at his fleet.

“Time to impact?” Thaseas asked, realizing the inevitability of the situation.

“Approximately five minutes and seventeen seconds,” Oresunder replied. “Trajectories are being updated for each individual missile now.”

The lines immediately appeared. At least three missiles were heading for each of his ships. The Hammer of Druth was not spared, though he had no doubt it would survive with the addition of the point defense that Nergal so desperately advocated for. How he had known something like this would happen, Thaseas would have to ask.

However, the other ships were not as lucky. If even a single one of those made it through, it would destroy the ship. Especially if they were tritinium-based missiles.

“Tactician, order all assets to attack the station.” Thaseas was well aware he was overstepping well-established boundaries. His position should have been nothing more than that of an observer. The Void Admiral made critical decisions in such a situation. However, the man stood motionless as he looked over the battlefield. Such indecisiveness would get them killed quicker than if they acted. “If we are going down, we are taking as many of them as we can.”

“As you command, High King,” Oresunder said.

Thaseas watched his ships moving to converge on the station. Its magnetic cannons and neutron beam emitters lashed out. Several of the Druthagar ships stopped moving before even the first was in range to attack with its own cannons. Indicators on the board showed loss of power and life support in them. Some completely disappeared from the display. Bursts of light shone through the viewport like miniature suns before revealing wreckages in their wake.

“Deepstone Navigator, put us between the station and our fleet.” Thaseas made sure he sat completely still. It would not do to seem nervous at such a critical juncture. “With the upgrades made before we left, we can take the hits from their weaponry better than any of our other ships. It shall also give us the opportunity to destroy as many of those fetid missiles as possible.”

The Hammer shook with the first neutron beams from the station. They lanced at the dreadnought, causing the shields to flash blue with the impact. Thaseas grimaced with each rumble that ran through the massive ship. An indicator in the corner of the tactical board showed the shields just changing from green to yellow.

“Show them the true power of Movrim and Khegnir, Tactician,” Thaseas said. He glanced sideways at the void admiral, who still stood motionless. The dwarf would be removed when they returned to Druthagon. That, he knew without a doubt. “Destroy that station.”

“Aye, sir.”

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A new rumble ran through the ship as the twelve turrets of four guns each turned to face their target. Thundering booms echoed in the bridge. A full broadside from the Hammer leapt at the station, the several hundred pound rounds slamming into its shields. In several places, they lost cohesion and smashed against the metal. Clouds of debris spread out from the points of impact. The neutron beams and magnetic cannons immediately ceased their constant barrage.

However, the station still stood. Thaseas supposed he should appreciate the level of craftsmanship the humans put into their work. Especially with how quickly they were able to put it together. It would make any of the Druthagar proud if it were not constructed by the enemy.

He was not able to appreciate it for long. More rumbles ran through the ship as the first of the missiles reached the Hammer and detonated against its shields. What could only be described as waves of blue fire danced against the surface of the electromagnetic deflectors. It would have been beautiful if it were not trying to kill him.

He did not have much time to admire the view. The force of the detonations was as if Thorrig the Stormlord conjured a typhoon to toss aside a ship at sea. Thaseas was thrown from the throne, as were many of the astral lords from their own seats. Consoles blew out around the bridge. Screams pierced the air. The lights went dark. Only the light of the star, as well as the blue flames, shone into the bridge.

The holographic projector in the center, tied to a separate conduit, still displayed an image, though it flickered wildly. Thaseas watched as many of the missiles, those he expected to go for the dreadnought, instead dodged around for the other ships in the fleet. One by one, they began blinking out, disappearing from the battlefield. Their lack of point defense turrets left them completely vulnerable to the tritinium missiles. After just a few moments, the fleet stood at less than a quarter of its original strength.

Thaseas growled. He slammed his fist against the ground again and again until the pain was more annoying than satisfying. This was not how this was supposed to go. This was supposed to be a guaranteed victory. How was he supposed to know they were hiding enough missiles to glass the planet a hundred times over? The Hyperions and their inferiority presented an easy target. Especially after their failure at Druthagon.

His first offensive action since becoming High King. The moment where he was to prove his leadership. To have to go home with his tail tucked between his legs… That would only invite chaos, discord, fools who would challenge him because they thought they could rule better than he.

He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly, and walked to the void admiral’s console. Thaseas was slightly pleased for two reason: first, the button he was looking for still glowed red, though it was dimmed significantly. Second, the void admiral lay on the ground, his eyes wide open with a pipe through his chest. One fewer problem for him to take care of later. Not that it would matter much.

Thaseas nearly hit the button that would self destruct the ship. The button that was hard coded to only accept input from the void admiral and himself. It was the honorable thing to do. Better to take one’s own life in combat than to let the enemy have the opportunity—or, worse, allow them to take prisoners. But he couldn’t bring himself to lower his hand the few centimeters to the button. There was still so much to do, so much he had to see through. Perhaps someday, he would press the button. That day was not today.

Someone stirred in the center of the room. Belin Forgebellow. Of course he would be among the first to rouse. Thaseas squared his shoulders as the dwarf pushed himself to his feet, looked around for a moment, then walked directly to Thaseas.

“Is this your definition of greatness, High King?” Forgebellow gestured around the bridge, where some of the others were beginning to push themselves to their feet. Thaseas allowed him to speak his piece, folding his hands behind his back and waiting. “Our fleet lays crumbled in orbit of one of our enemy’s less defended planets. How do you expect to win this war when you cannot even win a simple battle?”

Thaseas stood silent for several moments, allowing some of the others to continue standing and watching. The more who bore witness, the better. It was time for a lesson.

“I suppose you think you can do better, Astral Lord.” He folded his hands behind his back and paced in a circle around the other dwarf. Forgebellow’s head turned slightly to either side to watch Thaseas. “Perhaps you wish to challenge me to a Nurathim? Of course, it wouldn't work; you don’t have the support. More people believe in me than will ever believe in you.

“Besides, the fault sits with the dead void admiral.” Thaseas gestured vaguely to the corpse sitting a few meters away. “My predecessor chose someone who was not up to the task of leading a fleet. Had I known, I would have replaced him before we left Druthagon.”

“Are you saying you make poor decisions, High King?” Forgebellow said, a smirk just visible under his thick beard.

How dare he have such insolence?

If only his axe was closer. His hand would do.

Thaseas brought his fist forward and slammed it into Forgebellow’s stomach. The dwarf—whether he saw it coming and chose to not react or was caught by surprise—doubled over with a grunt. Thaseas gripped his forearm and drove his elbow into Forgebellow’s back, knocking him to the ground. Forgebellow sprawled on the ground, turning himself over to look at Thaseas with a smile on his face.

“What is so amusing, Astral Lord?” Thaseas asked, kneeling down.

“Just the fact I showed everyone here how easy you are to rile.” He coughed, sending spittle into Thaseas’s face. The smile lingered. Thaseas desired nothing more than to knock out every one of the dwarf’s teeth. “Perhaps that support you are so proud of won’t last as long as you expect.”

At that moment, the lights in the bridge returned to their dimmed setting prior to the power going out. The consoles hummed to life. As Thaseas looked around the room at the onlookers, still kneeling next to Forgebellow, they immediately returned to their stations. Rakgrael Metalbreaker kept his eye on Thaseas longer than the others before resuming his seat. A problem to solve on another day.

“Deepstone Navigator, open a tunnel back to our territory.” Thaseas pushed himself off Forgebellow’s chest to stand and returned to his throne. “Relay orders to what remains of our fleet. We will regroup and try again another day.”

“As you command, High King.”

Thaseas was sure he imagined the hint of disdain in the dwarf’s voice. Perhaps, though, he did not. Perhaps it was a seed of doubt that would have to be stamped out.

He took a deep breath, thinking over how to twist this in his favor back at Druthagon, as the dark gray tunnel opened and the Hammer of Druth lumbered through.

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