Galactic High

“Gods damn these dating apps!” A sneering voice broke the silence in the dropship, breaking Svaartal out of his meditation as a datapad was sent clattering along the dark metal floor. “I would have thought flying over the city would find me at least some suitable matches.”

“No luck, brother?” Soren snickered as he looked at Kravel with a mocking smile. “Just keep at it. I’m sure Cecily Corvin herself is waiting for your swipe!”

“Fuck you,” the necromancer snarled, as he snapped his fingers for one of the Mal’Kar soldiers to hand his datapad back to him. “It’s not my fault Izadora banned me from claiming the slaves!”

“Actually, it’s totally your fault!” Dextra grinned from where she lounged on top of her mech, a hulking brute of purplish metal that Svaartal hadn’t yet seen in action, locked in a drop pod ready for deployment. “Pretty sure ‘Chief Queef’ told you to stop going through them so quickly!”

“They either displeased me, or I required them for a greater purpose,” Kravel snarled as several of the troops hid their expressions. “It is my right as a superior being to do as I wish with them.”

“What ‘Greater Purpose’ could there have been when our dear sister lost her favourite bed warmer?” Soren chuckled, before giving a quick side-glance to Svaartal. “Well, her former favourite before our Nirah friend joined us.”

“She still has that bedwarmer, I just infected them with a few strains of my experimental necrovirus when I got bored.” Kravel shrugged. “Much more useful as a Ghast in my opinion!”

The Drow in the shuttle chuckled at that, while Svaartal gave a polite smile at the morbid humour before returning to his meditations.

After Izadora received an entire collective of code slicers earlier that evening and ensured they would be settled, they had received their notifications from Braska’s contacts that the gathering of the gangs was going to take place tonight, and that their mission to crush it and seize captives was now active. A large fleet of dropships was prepared and dispatched with troops to lie in wait for for perfect moment to strike, and though Svaartal had raised a concern that the main leadership of the raid was situated in one ship, Soren was unphased. The drow reasoned that it would be better to coordinate with his confidants in person before entering battle, in case anything changed the plan.

“Well, you have the opportunity to satisfy yourself tonight,” Soren mused. “There are more gangs arriving than expected, so once we attack, this raid is going to grant us quite the haul. There may even be someone there willing to bed you!”

“Fuck you, Soren!” Kravel snarled, as several of the soldiers couldn’t hold it in anymore and chuckled among themselves. “When do we attack? We waste time here!”

“We wait until all of our prey are gathered before we strike,” Soren calmly replied. “As we previously discussed, we have several allies on-site that have already agreed to join us, and they will inform us when it is the best time to attack, though we are monitoring from above to confirm that remains the case. Once the time is right, we quickly land with superior troops, demand surrender, and kill anyone who refuses. Until then, we wait.”

“We’ve been waiting for hours,” Kravel complained. “I want to kill something.”

It was true that they were hovering in formation, completely obfuscated from anything the various gangs below could feasibly use to detect them, but Svaartal was still weary. Observing the monitors, he could see that a formidable horde of lifesigns was below, and he hoped that Soren’s confidence was not misplaced.

‘This anticipation is insufferable.’ The voice of Carrow echoed in his mind as his familiar shifted on his shoulder. ‘We are as prepared as we can be, and many of these would-be conquerors will die anyway.’

‘A mere demonstration of power during a time of high conflict. House Mal’Kar wants a flawless strike to send a message to the other local factions.’ Svaartal shrugged. ‘I am surprised they have not gotten more involved in the active conflicts, but I am not complaining.’

‘They gather power and assess threats,’ Carrow stated. ‘But our patrons are too passive. Power has little use if not used to its fullest potential, and the time to act should be now while the city recovers.’

‘There is not much we can do about that,’ Svaartal pointed out to Carrow. ‘We receive the orders, but do not give them.’

‘Yet…’ Carrow slyly replied in his mind as Svaartal sensed movement from behind him.

“So!” Dextra grinned as slumped down beside him, completely bored of the waiting. “You’ve got history with our newest enforcer! I wanna hear the details!”

“Recruiting Braska was a mistake,” Svaartal told the drow more sharply than intended. “I have no doubt that she’ll be much more trouble than she’s worth.”

At least Braska wasn’t on the ship with them. She was placed in the vanguard as a test of her abilities, along with several other drow ‘purestrains’ who had been given an opportunity to distinguish themselves.

“Her accolades are quite impressive,” Dextra pointed out. “Highly formidable in combat, lacks direction to channel her impulses, but we can fix that. It’s not surprising Kravel recruited her; I first thought he was just bringing her in to get his dick wet, but Izadora agrees that Braska would be a good fit with us. She won’t be in command, but she will be deployed appropriately. It’s a gamble for sure, but so was recruiting you, and that seems to have paid off. Svaarti too in a way, even though she’s both your dependent and a civilian mage.”

“How is she?” Svaartal asked, and Dextra rolled her eyes.

“Still the same as the other thousand or so times you’ve asked me,” the drow pointed out. “I can check remotely and nothing’s changed. Room still sealed, droids are still monitoring.”

“Thanks, Dextra.” Svaartal sighed.

“No problem!” The odd drow grinned. “You still haven’t answered my question, though. What’s your history with Braska?”

“We went to school together, and we didn’t get along then either.” The Nirah shrugged. “She was a notorious bully, getting so bad that she even managed to get herself expelled.”

“The school actually did something competent? It got that bad?” Dextra scoffed. “That doesn’t explain why you reacted in the particular way you did.”

“You saw her scars, right?”

“I sure did! She had a bunch of them! Did you see that really nasty, ugly-looking burn all along the side of her face? She looked fucked!”

“Yeah,” Svaartal deadpanned. “She got that one from me.”

“Ready up!” Soren called out. “The time to lash out at this filth is almost upon us!”

With cheers of sadistic glee, everyone got to their positions.

“You all know your roles,” Soren continued with a voice of showmanship. “You have all been grown, bred and trained for this glorious purpose! To dominate all lesser species undeserving of the freedom they crave! The weak must submit to the strong, and there is no force stronger than House Mal’Kar! Wrath and Ruin!”

“Wrath and Ruin!” The troops yelled back.

‘Let us stick to the former, master,’ Carrow quipped. ‘Though we have been instructed to support as needed, I suspect we shall have our fill of combat all the same. I find the chaos of battle to be one of opportunity after all, anything can happen, including to that Berzerker they’ve hired on, no?’

‘We shall see,’ Svaartal acknowledged the idea as he slithered up to Soren and his elite guard.

“Ready?” the drow noble asked Svaartal with an amused look. “I’ll do my best to keep you informed on where you are needed, however, I want you to start by getting to our insiders and then assist them in getting as many of them to safety as you can. They have been instructed to get themselves out the moment we reveal ourselves, but there’s always some that find it hard to follow basic instructions. As much as I’m up for those retards to simply perish and no longer be an issue, appearances must be made that working for House Mal’Kar comes with rewards.”

“I will do my best.” Svaartal nodded, summoning his jetpack that Dextra had finally fixed after his fight with the human.

“Move into position and reveal yourselves,” Soren then called to the pilots of the dropships, and Svaartal gripped the nearest railing as the ship shuddered with movement. The drow then calmly walked towards the command terminal, where a communications technician was already working to patch him into the loudspeaker system. Quickly passing the smug noble a microphone, they politely signalled that he could speak.

“Attention lowborn scum,” Soren purred. “This district and all current occupants are now at the mercy of House Mal’Kar. Throw down your weapons, submit yourself to your betters, and you shall be permitted your lives. If not, you will die, and your very souls will serve us!”

“Make landfall,” Soren then immediately ordered the pilots once the mechs had dropped from their pods, as the troops once more cheered in anticipation.

The moment they felt the ship touch down and the ramp descend, officers immediately began barking orders for the soldiers to form up, while Svaartal prepared to take flight. Their informants giving them current information were marked with an astral signature he could spot, so in theory, friendly fire would not be an issue, though he knew that the inherent cruelty of the drow would no doubt cause a few ‘accidents’.

As they spilled out quickly to the sound of gunfire, Svaartal cast a quick invisibility spell on himself that would enable him to take to the skies without being shot by the very aggressive-sounding gangers.

Ahead of him he saw Braska standing tall, staring out with a wicked grin, uncaring as several rapid-fire shots pinged off her heavy armour, while several drow in the vanguard hurriedly set down devices that rapidly expanded into cover. Shrugging her shoulders to release the tension, she waited for some kind of confirmation from one of the drow officers, before reaching into one of her pouches, pulling out what looked like several inhalers. Bringing them up to her mouth, Braska clenched down on them, releasing several hazy puffs of colourful smoke that the Balnath greedily huffed up. She then roared in agony, or perhaps ecstasy, as the cocktail of drugs quickly took hold, shivering with the high, and eyes turning a deep shade of crimson. With a glazed look of pure malice, she brought up her powerful battle rifle and charged straight into the enemy gunfire!

Braska seemed to be completely unphased as she took shots from the closest gangsters, eagerly returning fire with her unstable heavy plasma rifle, obliterating anyone she could see as the now terrified gangsters dashed to cover. The Balnath caught one that wasn’t quick enough and bit down, sinking her sharp, rotting teeth into the shoulder of the Korrigan, before tearing out the flesh with a cackle of ecstasy.

‘With luck, that brute’s idiocy will solve itself,’ Carrow opined, seeing Braska charge further in, well ahead of the methodically advancing drow lines. ‘Master, there are only a few astral signatures remaining in the crowd, what will we do?’

“We shall not put ourselves in any unnecessary risk,” Svaartal replied aloud as he activated his jetpack and brought it into a low hover, only a few metres off the ground. “Nor shall I waste my good spells when the drow wish to take these morons alive. Find me the signatures close to the front lines and we’ll clear a path for them to get out, there’s no glory or accolades for us here.”

“As you say, master,” Carrow acknowledged. “One of the wretches is close by, how do you intend to get her out of this alive?”

“I don’t need to get her out.” Svaartal dryly chuckled as he began quickly casting an activation spell, pointing with a wand in the general direction of his target - one of several squat, emaciated-looking green things with tall ears. As the ball of yellow fog approached, it detonated, sending several of the small, cowardly-looking gangers dropping to the ground, unconscious.

“I see,” Carrow noted in amusement. “If they’re unable to do anything, House Mal’Kar soldiers will simply collect them rather than kill them. But such a weak spell will not work against stronger opponents.”

“Normally I wouldn’t even bother learning that spell.” The Nirah chuckled. “But I had this wand lying around gathering dust before tonight, I was trying to sell it before House Mal’Kar gave us a place to live. Only a few charges left, I’d say we’d better put them to good use, no? Where next?”

“There is a group trying to escape together,” Carrow pointed out, indicating a cluster that was making their way to a gap in the Drow lines, deliberately left open to better herd their enemies. “But there is also someone else of interest opening fire on their fellow gangers, and they’re putting up a good fight.”

“I see them,” Svaartal noted as he hovered around to the clustered group and shot several more sleeping spells their way, before dropping the now-useless wand to the ground, having expended all charges and not willing to bother trying to salvage what shoddy materials were left. “They’re not exactly trying to be subtle…”

Standing in the middle of a host of dead bodies like an avatar of slaughter, the cackling figure was bipedal and pale-grey skinned, with blue markings along their body that could have been natural for their species or tribal tattoos, the same colour as the bundle of faded blue dreadlocks that draped off the ground behind them as they advanced forward, seemingly uncaring as she let loose with a hailfire of rounds from her twin rapid-fire plasma sprayers. Wearing a loose patchwork of leathers with a half-metal faceplate, they did not appear particularly capable of taking hits.

“That’s definitely one of Braska’s associates,” Svaartal noted, and was just about to turn away to allow them to be killed when Soren cut in the call.

“Marking a priority objective for you, Svaartal,” The drow noble purred into the comm. “Izadora wants this one in particular alive.”

“Understood,” Svaartal acknowledged, silently cursing that the figure was indeed the VIP in question.

Zipping over, he grabbed the cable from his jetpack and began activating certain runes that would hone the wire on his target, quickly sending it snaking out to wrap itself around their waist before he lifted off, getting them away from the battle.

For her part, the VIP began cursing and screaming, and Svaartal found himself suddenly dipping to the side, warned by Carrow as the crazy bitch he had tied up started shooting his way.

“I’m an ally you fucking idiot. I’ve got orders to keep you alive!” Svaartal snarled, before getting to the front lines of the fight and severing the connection with a press of a button, causing the nutcase to roughly clash to their ground.

Still alive. Soren said nothing about concussions…

“Delivered, but they’ll need a medic,” the Nirah noted to Soren, who was still listening in.

“That should be it. Make yourself useful where you can, though you may be interested to know that a gang of Stygians were spotted nearby,” Soren teased, sending the Nirah the location on his HUD. “Do try to leave some fun for the rest of us!”

“Much obliged!” Svaartal hissed back in anticipation, as he honed in on the familiar reddish-pink-skinned Devilspawn. He could see that the battle against the disorganised rabble of gangs would be over quickly, as the disciplined drow easily steamrolled forward, stopping only to take many prisoners from the cowardly dredges that surrendered.

“Boriah!” Svaartal snarled, announcing his presence to the gibbering Devilspawn below him by lashing out with a vicious cone of cold, blasting the Stygian gang with polar force, instantly killing the leader in the centre of the radius, and easily dropping many of the others, who collapsed to the ground clutching their rapidly-blackening hands and faces as the cold burned them.

“Filthy demons!” Svaartal snarled as he landed, summoning his sword, eager to take them up close and personal.

“The Bastards of Azazel will return to him!” the closest Stygian snarled as they used their innate sorcerous powers to fling a bolt of fire at the Nirah, who easily parried it with his sword.

“How right you are,” Svaartal quipped as he rushed forward quicker than the Stygian could react to and skewered the fool through the stomach. “Greet him in the void with the rest of your filthy kind!”

He pulled back and swung his sword diagonally, sending an arc of arcane energy flying at another Stygian in the midst of casting another spell. Svaartal gave his sword a flourish as he then summoned the staff of Devil’s Daughter into his other hand, and relished in the enraged shouts of the Devilspawn as they recognised it, and as a result, him.

“He’s the one!” one cried.

“He killed Devil’s Daughter!” yelled another in rage,

“That’s right!” Svaartal grinned. “But tonight, I’ll settle for you! You won’t be committing horrors in the name of your dead creator anymore!”

“Get the staff!”

“You shall have it!” Svaartal snarled, using the power of the staff to empower a spell he had created just for this purpose, as he summoned a ring of icy mist all around him, forcing the Stygians who had surrounded him back, with one falling to the ground in pain.

He then slammed the base of the staff into the ground, causing parts of the earth to melt and churn as he held the Sygians that remained in place.

“Azazel is dead,” Svaartal sneered at the struggling Stygians. “The galaxy is far better off without your Demon Lord in it.”

“He will come back to us!” a Devilspawn sneered back at him. “We are his chosen people, and through us, he endures! A new era of torment comes for you all!”

“Really?” Svaartal mocked. “Whatever shall I do about that?”

A few well-placed strikes with his sword, and it was over. The battle was all but over now, and Svaartal allowed himself to stand there and catch his breath.

“A glorious display of our power, everyone!” Soren purred over open comms. “Mop this rabble up and prepare the useless wastes of flesh for transport. Inner circle, to me.”

Svaartal sighed, releasing the tension within him as he allowed the drow troops around him to take control of the last pockets of desperate resistance as the various angry, terrified or confused gangers flailed about wildly, futilely trying to escape or fight back. Slithering along the gore-spattered grass, he did his best to ignore the sounds of whips lashing out, forcing the surviving dregs to their knees or into organised formations for processing, heading up to a raised section where he saw Soren standing proudly, where several of the gang leaders had apparently been conversing before the attack.

Now, several of those leaders were on their knees, bound and secured, while the limp, dead forms of those leaders who did not surrender were being dragged and thrown into a pile by a small squad of soldiers under the gleeful gaze of Kravel. Svaartal knew that despite a high casualty rate, House Mal’Kar would be well fueled from this conflict.

Approaching the collection of nobles and other members of the inner circle, the Nirah was disappointed to see that Braska had survived the conflict, though with horrible-looking injuries that she just seemed to shrug off, likely too drugged up to care right now. Sat down on the grass talking to her was the crazy, blue-haired VIP he had unceremoniously dropped from a high height behind friendly lines, who suddenly noticed him approaching.

“There he is!” she cried out, pointing at Svaartal. “That’s the bastard that attacked me!”

“Serpent!” Braska yelled as she snapped around. “What did you do to Yixx?”

“My master saved her life, retard,” Carrow snarked before Svaartal had a chance to respond. “That idiot would be dead had it not been for him, though I fail to see why we went through the effort.”

Several of the drow officers chuckled at the familiar’s sass, to Braska’s vivid displeasure. Dextra laughed the hardest, overhearing the conversation as she disembarked her mech and joined her family.

“She is alive, is she not?” Soren chuckled in amusement. “That was a condition of yours that I deem satisfied in full. She will be treated by our healers and then evaluated by our recruiters, but I believe they will agree with your wishes that she join you as an Enforcer.”

“Fine,” Braska snarled. “What about my other condition?”

“Your former leader that kicked you out is still alive, captured and ready to meet you.” Kravel grinned wickedly as he approached, indicating they follow him. “Along with a little bonus our soldiers found!”

“Oh?” Soren asked, shrugging. “This should be good. Shall we see the show?” He indicated to the rest of the inner circle to follow. Svaartal, not having any choice in the matter, followed, dreading what might follow.

“You fucking bitch!” he heard a man up ahead roar out as he struggled with his restraints. “I’ll kill you for this Braska! I swear it!”

“Henk!” Braska greeted her former leader with false, menacing cheerfulness. “So good to see you again! Fancy seeing you in a place like this!”

“You told them we’d be here! After everything I’ve done for you!” Henk yelled. Coming within range, Svaartal could see that they were a dark-grey-skinned species with a single eye, and thick mutton-chops of a coarse, wiry black. “I took you in when nobody else would, and this is how you repay me?”

“You kicked me out, Henk.” Braska shrugged. “I deserved more and you wouldn’t budge.”

“I thought you’d go form your own gang!” Henk spat. “Or go join the Cult of the Destroyer like your father did! You grew more and more wild and rabid, and the rest of us saw a way out that would work for all of us! We could have had a better life! You had to go for the rest to thrive!”

“Oh don’t worry,” Kravel sneered with a mocking laugh. “The lives of your former followers will have meaning the moment their compliance collars clamp shut.”

“I’d sooner die! Slaver scum!” Henk growled at the necromancer.

“Spoiler alert!” Dextra snorted in amusement, causing the withering gaze of Henk to briefly acknowledge her presence.

“First things first.” Kravel smirked. “Bring them out!” he called out to the soldiers.

‘Oh no…’ Svaartal thought to himself in horror, as the laughing drow soldiers pushed forward three figures from the crowd, black bags over their heads. One was a woman, and the Nirah was sickened to see the roving hands of the soldiers as she was eventually shoved to the front.

The other two were too small to be anything but children.

“Oh Henk…” Soren sighed with raised eyebrows as the figures were brought out and forced to their knees, bags yanked back to show their faces to the gathered crowd. “You weren’t stupid enough to bring your family with you, were you?! Were you honestly this serious about carving yourselves a position of power?”

“No!” the broken leader cried. “No! Not in front of my family! Please Braska, I beg of you! If the time we worked together means anything to you, grant me this one mercy!”

The expression on Braska’s face calmed for a moment, as the Balnath closed her eyes and nodded. “As you wish, Henk.”

“I….thank you…” Henk nodded, shivering as he accepted his fate.

“Tell me Henk…” Braska then asked, keeping her tone neutral. “Do you like to…dance?” A thin whisper of a smirk was all that betrayed her intent.

“NO!” Svaartal yelled, quickly rushing forward as he realised what Braska had planned.

But it was too late.

Braska quickly raised her gun and spun with practised ease, as three shots rang out within the space of two seconds, followed after a brief moment, by the three bodies of Henk’s family hitting the ground.

Henk said nothing, as his face glazed over, the shock being too much as Braska cackled in evil glee, drinking in the man’s despair for the briefest of moments, before a powerful crossbow bolt zipped past and slammed straight through Henk’s forehead, Svaartal swiftly putting the man out of his misery with a clean mercy kill.

“I’ll kill you for that!” Braska roared at the Nirah, as Svaartal swiftly dismissed his crossbow and summoned the staff of Devil’s Daughter, pointing it straight at the drugged-up Balnath, runes blazing along the shaft with a hateful glow of crimson hellfire. His sword shimmered in his other hand, glowing bright enough to cause the closest drow to recoil away from him.

“Not unless I kill you first,” Svaartal snarled at the now-cautious brute. “You won’t survive me this time, Braska.”

“I knew he was no good!” Yixx grunted as she pointed her guns his way, before Carrow bowled into her, quickly using his power to immobilise her.

“You really should learn to watch your surroundings,” his familiar quipped, before he turned to see the new threat.

“Stand down! Now!” Kravel bellowed in anger as he raised a wand to Svaartal. “You forget your place! I told Izadora you weren’t worth bringing in!”

“Don’t even try it, Kravel!” Dextra told her brother as she raised her pistol at him. “And yes he was worth bringing in, you said so yourself. You’re just being a jealous cunt again.”

“Enough!” Soren lazily raised his voice. “All of you lower your weapons. The day is won, calm your rage! Braska, dear. Children are very valuable when taken intact, do you realise how much money the ultra-rich are willing to pay for the company and pleasure of young, unspoiled flesh? Svaartal was correct to reprimand you, and this mind for strategy is the reason why he is part of our inner circle. I expect you to try and express better judgement in future. I am highly impressed with your abilities, you simply need…direction.”

“Point taken,” Braska grunted as she holstered her weapon. “I was promised revenge, and I guess I got it. Just keep me away from the serpent, gear me up, and I’ll kill whoever the fuck you want.”

“Good girl,” Soren purred, before suddenly their comms screeched to life.

“All House Mal’Kar forces return to base immediately!” the voice of Izadora Mal’Kar frantically called out over the public line. “We’re under attack, currently identifying hostiles!”

“You heard her!” Kravel called out to everybody after several moments of silent confusion. “Finish up here and head back! Execute any slave that tries to delay us!”

“What?” Dextra asked, completely baffled. “Who the hell’s crazy enough to attack us? Corvin Enterprises? Red Legion? Killer Klown?”

They soon received the answer as the comms burst to life again, picking up the sounds of whoops and hollers.

“OH YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!” a loud voice bellowed out. “COMMANDER COCAINE IS COMING!"