Desolation

Written by Adam Mullen, with art by Marcello Millicay, and edited by Ted Kendrick.

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The battle over the planet was finally over. The assault on Yaltrix had ceased. Lost in a fog of war, Hgraghos stood on the bridge of the heavily damaged battleship Kraken, gazing at the annihilated warships that now orbited around the scorched planet. All around him, he heard the cries of wounded crew and smelled the remains of those who perished in battle. Many lives were lost today. 

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He said a silent prayer for all of the souls on their way to whatever afterlife awaited them. Hgraghos was lucky to be one of the few left alive after the horrific battle. The Gods spared him for a reason that he could not yet see. Hgraghos had believed that this battle would be his last. Perhaps in time, the reason for his survival would be revealed. 

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As the Kraken limped away from Yaltrix and back to Skran Imperium space, Captain Kross alerted Hgraghos to a communication from Imperial Command. At first, he didn't hear what his second in command had said. He realized he was in shock, like most of his crew, and was in a haze of confusion and scattered thoughts. He forced himself to snap out of it and acknowledged his second-in-command. 

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“You’re…in command, Captain Kross,” Hgraghos struggled to form words.

Hgraghos took the message in his war room where he would be left undisturbed. After a moment of collecting his wits, he pressed a button on his desk. The stern visage of a superior from Imperial Command appeared on his screen. Hgraghos saw the look of a tired man whose face betrayed his years. All too familiar to Hgraghos, the impact of the war was plain to see on the human’s face, though Hgraghos saw the weight of it had been lifted. Before Hgraghos heard the words from the man’s lips, he knew what would be said. 

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There was already talk of a ceasefire among the higher ranking officers in the Imperial Navy. Neither the Skran Imperium nor the Naams Protectorate could afford to continue their costly forty year war. Hgraghos always knew that humans truly hadn’t the stomach for it. They claimed to be the thirstiest in the entire galaxy when it came to spilling blood, but when things became dire and defeat was imminent, they gave up and turned heel. If Hgraghos was allowed to make the tactical decisions rather than the buffoons at Imperial Command, the Emperor would have severed the head of the Protectorate government by now, and stood on top of their bodies, claiming victory.

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The superior officer demanded an update on the battle. Images of Yaltrix’s orbital bombardment and the resulting destruction of both fleets ran over and over through his mind. 

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“Admiral Hgraghos, I asked for an update on the battle,” The man’s face grew stern.

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Hgraghos’ thoughts threatened to overtake him. His emotions boiled just under his thick scales. Hgraghos struggled to keep calm and remain in control of himself. He was no weak mammal, but rather a fierce Srastozian, descended from a long line of warriors. Hgraghos took a deep breath through his long snout and exhaled. He was ready to make his report. 

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“Tell the Emperor…” Hgraghos hesitated as the stench of death floated by his snout again. “…the desolation of Yaltrix is complete.” 

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