ALONG A NORINCO TRADE LINE
DEEP SPACE
DEEP SPACE
The black seas of the cosmos were vast and empty. the boggling enormity far dwarfing the individually staggering celestial bodies that littered it. It was easy for one to become lost in space, and many frequently did, long lost distress beacons revealing themselves and convoys disappearing under mysterious circumstances almost on the daily. Beyond even that was the endemic piracy that plagued the galaxy. No matter how many seemed to be wiped out, more took their place. The great powers of the galaxy busy acting as these ne'er-do-wells' scourge. Nobody could watch the whole thing, no matter how hard they tried or how many years they went at it.
This particular sector of the void was no different. Empty save the occasional passerby, its barren worlds orbiting a brown dwarf approaching the end of its life cycle. Four worlds from the system's star, separating the core of the system from its fringes, was a comparably small asteroid field. Most folk who even knew this part of space existed, which were few in number, considered it an extremely low-risk area, being neither near any major settlements nor any major trade lines. This made it perfect for unregistered, unofficial lines. One such line was operated by NORINCO, a Dornalian arms company dating back to the twentieth century. Infrequently used, only small convoys passed through, cutting lightyears off of their journey. The path passed right through the far edge of the asteroid field, the magnetic interference briefly making the ships who passed through invisible to sensors.
It was that latter fact that brought the Ozlukar there. A voraciously hungry people, hungry for food, for slaves, resources, and knowledge. A savage and ignorant people united under a single tyrant warlord, the successes and stability of the Ushtar Uzgoth's leadership giving rise to an Ozlukar golden age. This brought them rubbing up against the other, more established star states, making the Ozlukars' own glaring weaknesses all the more apparent. They needed better sensors, better computers, new metallurgical techniques, better industrial methods, and so on. Even as the golden age brought them untold wealth and prosperity, the needs of their civilization only grew in size and scope. Their needs now outpaced their grasp, outpaced their fledgling civilization's capabilities.
But what the Ozlukar shined at was raiding, which they honed into an art that they took incredibly seriously. One they were incredibly proud of. The Ozlukar's immense size and strength made them natural bullies, gifted in the application of shocking force and grisly terror. Their predilection for the extremes of shipbuilding made their famed longships unusually faster than their technological backwardness would suggest, and strangely durable too. What the Ozlukar couldn't make or scavenge themselves they stole, enslaving those xenos who might understand their ill-gotten gains in the process. After all, someone had to man the machinery.
Skrotog looked out of the window of his longship's bridge, his immense black eyes glistening like wet jewels in the ship's dim light. The young warrior sat idly, fat fingers twiddling absentmindedly. He and the other warriors had been sitting in this longship for weeks now, the engine running at minimal capacity to conserve fuel. Every few minutes one of the bridge slaves would look down at their screen and skitter of to the captain, doubtlessly giving him another entirely pointless status report. Skrotog frowned, spittle dripping lazily from his yellowed tusks. He rose from his spot and paced, unable to move very far due to the ship's small size and growing increasingly aware of it by the moment. The mark was supposed to have passed through days ago. Indeed, he and most of the crew had only signed on at the prospect of a quick, easy hit. That's what Gorgoth had promised them. But "a few days at most" turned to a week, then to two and finally to three. All the time sitting, waiting, keeping quiet. He missed the village, missed Puzlog, who even the thought of stirred the hulking warrior's loins as he was there that moment. His hands stirred from idleness. The time had come.
"You better fucking not try, boy! I'll launch you out the airlock!" Gorgoth barked.
"What?" Skrotag whined. "I wasn' doin' nothin'."
"Shut up. liar! I can smell your mating stink from here!" Skrotog snapped, his colossal chest puffing out and his lips peeling back to reveal a mouth of angry, jagged teeth. Skrotog had not meant to anger his chief, who was much bigger than he. He bowed his head low and offered up a panting grunt, gurgles, and snorts passing through his snout trunk. Gorgoth beat his chest but otherwise seemed contented with his warrior's submission, removing a bladder from his belt and passing it down to Skrotog. He threw his head back and let the dirty, fiery liquor slither down his throat. Skrotog blew a note through his trunk in pleasure and smacked his chops. Now the matter was truly settled and the tension eased.
"Chief, how come they ain't here yet?" Asked little Shagga, the youngest of the group. He was Skrotog's charge, only just having grown out of thralldom but not yet blooded. This was the boy's first raid. Back home Skrotog had volunteered to show him the ropes and that meant answering his stupid questions, and disciplining him when he spoke out of line.
"Shut up, scum." Skrotog barked, a fat paw cuffing the boy about the head. He felt no malice towards the boy, but he wasn't blooded yet. He hadn't earned the right to speak directly to the chief.
"They ain't here 'cause they ain't here. End of."
"But will they be here soon?" An audible groan filled the ship. This had not been the first time this conversation had been had.
"Well why don' 'sha look y'self?" Blacktooth said, those same words still forming themselves in Skrotog's mouth. The older Ozlukar sighed, his fetid breath nearly gagging his crewmates.
"Y'know, every time you talk you remind me why they call you the Blacktooth." Skrotog japed, pinching the end of his trunk.
"Shut it, 'fore I shut it for ye." Blacktooth japed back, laughing heartily.
"The lot of you better fucking shut it." Gorgoth barked, holding a fist up. "Pickin' somethin' up on the screen." A moment of silence passed, then another. The tension electrified their nerves, their hair standing on end and their thick hides clamming up. The spit dried up in Skrotog's mouth. His heart quickened. The prospect of the raid finally commencing terrified and excited everyone all at once, though poor Shagga seemed more the former than the latter. Skrotog put a paw around the boy's shoulders and brought him close, until his lips were to the boy's earhole.
"Now listen here, don't go actin' piss scared 'round these folk, 'kay? Don't want you slobbing just 'cause they think you're yellow. You'll never live it down." The boy's eyes went wide. Shagga tried to staunch his fear, putting on what Skrotog assumed was meant to be a war face, but to him looked more like constipation. He suppressed a chuckle. At least the lad was trying, he'd seen boys around that age blubber like babes at the thought of a good fight. The boy at least seemed to have some balls. That would come in handy.
Gorgoth picked the receiver up, his slave assistant quickly establishing a communications link between the chief's longship and the others in the party.
"Alright listen 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. Y'listenin'?" He grunted out, the joviality in his voice replaced with naked malice, the foamy drool at the beast's mouth and his heavy musk making his need for violence all the more apparent. A chorus of affirmatives followed from the speaker.
"Let 'em pass 'til they're about in the thickest part of the field, boys. We don't want a fight from 'em if'n we can avoid it. Nobody better fire 'til I give the order, either. We hit 'em hard and all at once, they never see it comin' 'til it's too late. Hit 'em too early and uneven we risk havin' ta chase. I don' know about you lot but my ass is sore, I don't wanna give chase. I wanna go home." A chorus of ayes followed that, then silence. The mark convoy would be here any moment.
