The Mongrel could read the faces of the auxiliaries through his ring of optical sensors, easily detecting the trepidation there. They feared this assignment he had just given them, this task of attacking the enemy where they were strongest, with no easy line of retreat amid the Alliance flagship's tight corridors. Their fear was understandable, perhaps... but unworthy of a Mawite. Couldn't they see the gift he was offering them? This was a chance to die gloriously, proving themselves worthy to pass into paradise. A chance
he had often been denied.
But
his feelings remained unreadable, for he had no face.
They dropped out of hyperspace, reverting to the Adrathorpe System... and utter chaos. The space battle was in full swing, interrupted only by the storm of emergent debris that whipped through the emptiness, spreading random destruction. And in the middle of it all, crouching in front of the only safe hyperspace corridor out of the system like the guard dog of the underworld, was the
Momentous Triumph. If the vessel kept that key position, the plug that kept water from escaping the bathtub, then the Brotherhood warfleet would be destroyed.
That could not be allowed to happen. There was too much left to burn.
The first message from
Keilara Kala'myr
came in a moment later, confirming that she was aboard the
Triumph and beginning her mission. The Mongrel did not respond; he had complete faith in her, and knew that she would secure what he had requested before long. There was no need to micromanage his most trusted agent. Instead the warlord kept his attention on the anxious auxiliaries, little "Iggy" already trying to poke holes in his plan. No, his
decree, because it
would be obeyed, no matter what. He would brook no objection in this matter.
Fighting the strongest foe would give him another shot at paradise.
The
Bunghole engaged its stealth systems, silently slipping toward their target as its crew bickered. The Mongrel thought for a moment that he would have to step in, to make it known that
his will was not up for debate... but as usual, ever-faithful Kerri did the job for him. So the warlord was silent as the two went back and forth, acting as little more than a tall, looming, eyeless presence who casually observed the argument. Sometimes his aura of menace alone was enough to impose control over the situation, fear weakening the wills of men.
He did not entirely disagree with Iggy, of course. It was entirely possible that Sularen would blow them all apart, taking the opportunity their sabotage provided to both destroy his enemies and rid himself of a rival. The alliance between the Final Dawn and the marauder tribes was an uneasy one, for they had little in common save their shared obedience to the Dark Voice. Their goals were the same for now, breaking the great powers of the galaxy and sweeping across known space, but their visions for the future were utterly incompatible.
There would be a reckoning someday. Perhaps someday soon.
Kerri won the argument, before moving off to aid in piloting the vessel. And to The Mongrel's surprise, Iggy just kept talking, the words flowing out of him in a torrent, like water spraying from a half-blocked hose. He told the warlord of his uncle, of his fears, of his
hatred... and The Mongrel just listened. When the auxiliary had finished speaking, The Mongrel held up one durasteel hand, strong enough to crush Iggy's skull just by latching on and squeezing - and not even squeezing
hard. But he didn't do that. He just flexed his fingers.
It was becoming a habit, watching those metal digits move.
"I remember what it was like," he said, his harsh metal voice more a grating whisper than booming thunder in that moment,
"to fear death. But I remember it only distantly. For all that you think you have suffered, 'Iggy', you still see worth in this galaxy... in this life. Live long enough, see enough of yourself stripped away, and that will change. Two things will happen. First, you will realize that life is a long, slow spiral into darkness. Second, you will realize there are causes, great causes, more worthy than life."
Whether or not Ignatius would ever embrace the Mawite faith, whether he would come to understand the truth that this galaxy was irreparably broken and not worth living in, was of little consequence. He would serve the Maw, advancing the grand designs of the Avatars, because he would be left with no other choice.
"Your existence, your every waking moment, is already devoted to the Maw. You live for something greater than yourself. The question you have just begun to ask, and to fear within your soul, is merely this:"
"Will you also die for something greater, as your uncle did?"
Mercy's transmission interrupted him; she had the tactical maps he'd requested, just as he'd known she would. He poured over them while Iggy and Kerri debated targets, the accompanying advice percolating through his brain.
"Negative," The Mongrel transmitted back, taking the whole battle into account.
"Ordinarily the engines would be the perfect target, but the Momentous Triumph is blocking the only escape route from the debris storm. We must force it out of the way, not cripple it in place, blocking our withdrawal."
"We will target their missile storage," the warlord decreed, ensuring that his voice was audible to both Mercy
and the auxiliaries... and thus putting an end to their debate.
"We must wreak such devastation on this ship that it is forced to withdraw, clearing the way for our own vessels to fall back." His transparent orange faceplate turned to face Iggy once more, its blank "gaze" somehow boring into him despite its lack of eyes.
"It's just as you said, 'Iggy'. Why take down the shields and let Sularen steal credit for the kill?"
The Mongrel pointed out the hangars Mercy had indicated to Kerri; although they were the closest hangars to the
engines, which was why his agent had shown them to him, they were also quite close to the magazines that Kerri had detected with his scans. They would serve adequately as entry points... unless the auxiliary intended to latch on with fission cutters and make their own entryway. Either served the plan fine in the warlord's figurative eyes. He would let his subordinate figure out the particulars of this one.
"Begin your sabotage, Mercy. We will join you shortly."
Iris Arani
Halketh
Marlon Sularen
Tren Chaar
's B-wing squadron struck the Brotherhood Star Destroyer that had been blocking the path to her target - the flagship of the Maw fleet. As the cascading explosion began to expand along the entire length of the vessel in a single chain reaction, a smirk found its way to Valery's face.
