Saul fought harder than he ever had before. He wailed, kicked, and swung his fists against Vilmogurr’s metal plate suit. The only damage he seemed to cause was tearing open each of his knuckles and losing a fingernail for his trouble.

  “You waste your strength, small one,” Vilmogurr said, his head forward, “Struggle, struggle, struggle. You will not overpower me.”

  “No right! You– you have no right!” Saul said between desperate snarls.

  Suddenly, Saul heard a scream from somewhere down one of the warship’s many wide corridors. The cry was human, almost as if...

  “Belcia!” Saul let out a long howl, hoping that she could hear him, praying that she and Cole were okay.

  “She’s fine,” Vilmogurr assured him, little comfort that was, “she wakes now, frightened. Alone.”

  “What are you doing to her, to my son?” Saul pleaded.

  “You’re son?” Vilmogurr stopped walking and looked down at him, “Shame you bring him here. Shame you make him heretic.”

  “I didn’t make him–” Saul started, before rephrasing, “–we’re not heretics!”

  “Human,” Vilmogurr said as if he was getting at something, “You are human, yes. But we find you aboard a lost ancient heretic vessel. You reactivate, repair the vessel. Vessel is forbidden. You are now heretic.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Saul said. He could feel his frustration boiling. “We found The Betty by mistake!”

  “You find the ship. The ship finds you. It makes no difference,” Vilmogurr said stubbornly. Saul could see along with the beast being colossal in stature, he was every bit as unmoving. He knew he stood little chance of convincing him of anything.

  “What do you want from us?” Saul asked.

  “Want from you? I’m sure I can help to answer that,” A derisive voice said from over Saul’s shoulder. Saul turned to find Admiral Lior der Waals in the flesh, resplendent in Sovereignty Naval dress and flanked by three soldiers.

  “Black earth, you’re shitting me,” Saul spat.

  “As earth was green,” der Waals said, “black earth, you say? I’m not sure I’ve heard that one before. Although, I must admit that I find the accents you merchant navy types have quite amusing.”

  Der Waals gestured for his soldiers to surround Saul, but he could see plainly that this made the massive Vilmogurr uneasy, dropping one of his arms in the way that his guards had seconds before extending their hidden blade weapons.

  “Thank you for your assistance in capturing these criminals, great Primarch,” der Waals said with a curt bow. Vilmogurr remained silent and steely.

  “I will be taking this one now, along with any others you have liberated in the capture of their stolen ship,” said der Waals.

  “You already have your man. The rest, these heretics, must answer for their blaspheme,” Vilmogurr insisted.

  “And they shall should you allow me to take them off your hands,” der Waals said, motioning to his men to hold.

  “You two really aren’t on the same page,” Saul interrupted, “_What did Vilmogurr mean by ‘your man’”_

  “I believe you know him as Aiden? It was little wonder we were able to track you to this system with such perfect precision,” der Waals said.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Aiden? You’re a liar!” Saul spat, “He hated The Sovereignty as much as I do. And Vilmogurr and his brutes tracked us here, not you!”

  “Sure, sure. It was they that tracked your ship to this vicinity. However,” der Waals paused, “your ship is old, as I hear, and these things have their way of ageing and becoming less reliable. It was a joint effort, really. A real moment of brotherhood between The Glorious Sovereignty and our great neighbours in The Empire. They gave us the first piece, but it was your buddy, your pal, Garfield Pates, that sent us the exact time and coordinates of where to be.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Saul said, lashing out at der Waals before Vilmogurr’s rigid hand once again grasped a hunk of his hair. He knew Aiden had hated him once long ago, but he felt in his heart that they had worked past that; had become friends.

  “It matters not that you believe me. It’s to the Council and our sovereign that you must answer for your crimes,” der Waals spat, indignant. “And I would like to know where this new pirate port-haven is so that they too may serve their people once more.”

  Saul furrowed a brow in response. Surely Aiden had already shared with Der Waals Moby’s location.

  “You forget your place, small human,” Vilmogurr said. Saul assumed the hulk was directing that at him. So he was surprised when he looked up to see him looking squarely in der Waals’ eyes.

  “This human is the property of The Devout. Not of you,” The unmoving Vilmogurr said, his voice rattling more than ever.

  “Your cohort– your empire came to us,” der Waals stressed. “You asked for our help dealing with these miscreants.”

  “We assumed these humans had reactivated the ship's full systems. We knew no quisabar stupid enough to venture into this area of space. We are not too big to ask for help when the situation demands,” Vilmogurr said, returning to his regular calm.

  “And now that we aren’t useful, this alliance is moot?” der Waals asked.

  Vilmogurr shrugged off the question. Instead, he waved a few of his guards into the room. The same hulks from before stepped in, having been waiting just out of view, extending their blades. They stood behind each of the human soldiers, great animals ready to pounce. Vilmogurr didn’t move.

  After a tense few seconds, Lior spoke, “Fine,” he said, “but don’t expect us to come to your rescue next time you and your ilk come calling. And please do make sure that these thugs never see their way back to human-owned space.”

  Der Waals pushed his cloak behind him and stepped out of the room with embarrassed haste. His soldiers followed swiftly, not wanting to wait around to chance becoming the hulks’ next meal. Vilmogurr relaxed, his guards doing the same while retracting their blades and stepping back against the walls.

  Without another word, the tugging recommenced as Vilmogurr walked out of the room with Saul’s scalp in hand. Saul still fought, but he could feel the top of his head going numb as his hands already had.

  “Let me–” Saul said between bouts of struggle as they moved from hall to hall, “–let me see my son. Let me see Cole!”

  “You may see him in time,” Vilmogurr finally answered, “For now, look.”

  Vilmogurr stopped him in front of an expansive observation deck window on what looked to be an outer level of the warship. Saul couldn’t help but feel awe at the size of it; its hull stretched far outside his field of view, creating its own horizon in every direction. Vilmogurr noticed his attention moved away from his own grip and said, “This vessel you find yourself on. We call it The Hand of the Devout. It is a name reserved for only the most dear to our solemn leader.”

  Saul remembered back to when they found The Betty, and the original name that it held was one and the same, but he said nothing. Vilmogurr continued.

  “It is with the Devout one’s guidance that we find you here, now. The other humans played a small part in tracking you, yes. But, not the true reason. The Devout sensed stirrings. And those stirrings are what led us to you.”

  “What do you want from me?” Saul said, exhaustion taking hold of him, “you must want something.”

  “To look. Watch. Heed the vigour of the Devout.”

  Vilmogurr pulled back Saul’s scalp, forcing his neck back and his gaze outward to the starry black. It was small, but drifting a fair distance away from the warship in which he stood was The Betty.

  She was beautiful, spinning slowly, surrounded by glittering starlight. He could remember back to the hopelessness he had felt in the days leading up to finding her. Saul knew that despite the founding of the new colony back on Moby, his true home was out there.

  What he wouldn’t give to escape where he now found himself, to get away from all the horrible and foolish mistakes that led him here and under this brute’s firm grip, to take his son and just leave behind the domination of others seeking to control him and by all accounts succeeding at every one of his own missteps.

  What he wouldn’t give to live free.

  Suddenly, cracks formed in The Bete Noire’s outer hull as she began to swell. Fire spilled out of various ports and access holes as piece by piece she broke apart. Then, in one final act of blinding fury, she erupted with the light of a fleeting sun. Glints of metal streaked off in every direction as they caught and reflected starlight.

  Then, as quickly as it had happened, the light faded until nothing but starlight and the endless black of the Rift Quarter remained.