The Royal Menagerie: Act 1, Chapter 1 (Patreon)

*****

Chapter One: The Infiltration

*****

The kobold crept down the dimly lit corridor. He pressed against the wood-paneled wall, skulking from shadow to shadow. Faint vibrations rolled through him, leaving his bones buzzing. The kobold grit his sharp teeth, scrunching his muzzle. He hated the ship’s constant rattling, and the way it left his scaly hide tingling under his body armor. The sooner this mission was over, he thought with a lash of his tail, the sooner he’d be back on solid ground.

“Moss.” His ear shard crackled with the mutt’s gruff voice. “Moss, is your scaly ass in position or what?”

The kobold growled. “I ain’t answerin’ to Moss.”

“You just did, dipshit.” Barking gnoll laughter made him wince. “You ready or not?”

“It’s Mhaz.” Mhaz flicked his tail, hissing. “You know it’s Mhaz. And I ain’t answerin’ till you say it right.”

“Are you in position, Mhaaaaaz?” The gnoll drew out his name with an exaggerated growl.

Mhaz clicked his teeth in satisfaction. “S’better. And no, not yet.”

The kobold paused at an intersection, peeking around the corner. Another empty hall greeted him. Dark wood paneling stretched on for ages, interspersed with red-painted steam pipes, and gold painted doors. Long brass railings spanned the walls on either side. Lights in glass fixtures hung from the ceiling, but only a few were illuminated. Deep gloom filled the areas between the faintly buzzing bulbs. The ship was still experimental. Mhaz doubted it was fully operational yet.

“Wait a minute,” Mhaz said. “We just split up. How the hell are you in position already?”

“I ain’t!” The gnoll laughed again. “But this ain’t about me, Moss. You’re always the last one-”

“Go fuck another cactus, Rakla.”

“Oh, shut the hell up!” Rakla growled, and Mhaz imagined him baring fangs at the air. “One time I-”

“Fucked a cactus?” Mhaz moved into the intersection, glancing into an open door. “We know!”

Rakla snarled, increasingly frustrated. “Got a thorn in my-”

“Dog balls?” Mhaz laughed, hurrying on after clearing the empty room. “We know!”

“I don’t have dog balls!” Rakla’s voice exploded through the ear shard. “I’m a gnoll! A gnoll!”

“And now the whole ship knows it!” Mhaz licked his muzzle. “You know, if we get caught-”

Rakla paid him little heed. “And I didn’t fuck no cactus! She threw it at me, and…” When the gnoll trailed off, Mhaz flattened his frills. “Got company.”

“Tried to warn you.” Mhaz hunkered down behind a trio of oversized steam pipes erupting from the wall. “Take them out quietly. I’m almost at the-”

A loud, brassy alarm bell rang out across the ship. Mhaz sighed, his shoulders sagging. Somehow, the stupid gnoll always screwed things up. Mhaz swiftly unbuttoned the holsters at his hips, and drew twin revolvers. It was time for him to clean up Rakla’s mess, as usual. He quickly flicked his cylinders open, checked his cartridges, then snapped them shut. Mhaz lifted his weapons, and pressed each gun barrel to his muzzle in a quick, good luck kiss.

“Time to go to work, boys.”

Just ahead of him, doors burst open. Heavily armed guards poured into the hallway. Mhaz sprang out of hiding, opening fire. His bullets all struck home, exploding through skulls-

*****

“Objection!” Rakla, seated at one end of a long, rectangular table, raised his hand. “That’s not how it happened!”

“Yes, it is!” Mhaz crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the large, brown-furred gnoll. “That’s exactly how it happened.”

“Objection!” Rakla slapped his black-spotted hand against the table. “He’s just trying to make himself look like a badass.”

Mhaz rocked back in his elevated kobold chair, a grin on his muzzle. “Well, I am a badass, so mission accomplished!” He rubbed his hands. “Okay, I think we’re done here.” Mhaz stood up. “See everyone next wet-work!”

“Sit the fuck back down, Kobold.” The command came from the increasingly irritated human woman seated at the far end of the table. “Now.”

“Alright, Boss, no need to get angry.” Mhaz climbed back into his chair, and settled in.

The woman, rather insultingly codenamed The Veterinarian, turned her smoldering glare to Rakla. “And you. Stop objecting. You’re not on trial.”

“Well…” The gnoll flattened his ears, waving at the kobold. “I object to him. In general, I mean.”

The Vet rubbed her forehead. “Trust me, gnoll. We all do.”

“Nonsense!” The kobold leaned back, smiling. “I’m a beloved folk figure.”

The woman ignored him, still focused on the gnoll. “So, how did it really happen?”

“For one thing,” Rakla said, leaning forward. “I wasn’t the one who got us caught.” A sneer twisted up his canine-like muzzle. “Moss was.”

Mhaz bristled up his little frills, hissing. “Stop callin’ me…” He trailed off when The Veterinarian held her hand up for silence.

“And he wasn’t sneakin’ through no hallway, either.” Rakla smirked at the kobold. “He was crawlin’ through a duct.” The gnoll tilted his head, his ears perked. “Right, Mhaaaaz?”

Mhaz sighed. “Alright, fine. But I’m the one who’s telling this story, not the dog.”

Rakla shrugged. “Then tell it right.”

“Fine, fine.” Mhaz leaned his head back, staring at the white-tiled ceiling. “I was in the duct, like he said. But not by choice.”

*****

“Alright, kobold.” Rakla gently set the metallic grating down on the floor. “This duct oughta take you all the way there.”

Shortly after successfully infiltrating the ship, the gnoll and kobold stood in a small, empty atrium. Both were dressed muzzle to tail in dark, custom-tailored body armor and other gear. Guns and knives were strapped around them both, with the gnoll also carrying a heavy scattergun across his back. Each had extra ammunition, as well as other equipment and first aid. Neither bore any kind of insignia or markings aside from a single, stylized dragon skull adorning each shoulder.

“I ain’t climbing into no duct!” Mhaz backed away from the much larger gnoll, snarling. “It’s filthy in there!”

“It’s a brand new ship.” The gnoll peered into the opening, near the ceiling. “There’s barely even any dust in there.”

Mhaz bared his fangs. “I ain’t doin’ it. Duct-crawlin’ is rat work, so send the rat!”

The gnoll only snorted, swishing his bushy tail. “The rat’s got his own shit to do! And you know he hates it when we call him that.”

“And I hate it when you call me Moss, but that never stopped you.” He rested a hand on a revolver’s grip. “I ain’t getting’ in no duct, and that’s that. I’m front line infantry now, got it?”

“Only cause you’re so short they’d shoot right over you.” Rakla thrust a finger towards the open vent, body armor creaking. “Just get in the damn duct.”

Mhaz hissed at him. “Make me!”

Rakla shrugged, swiftly advancing on the smaller creature. “Okay.”

“Wait!” Mhaz held his hands up, backing away. “Very poor choice of words! What I meant was…ah…” The kobold’s eyes darted around, seeking an easy escape. “Oh, hey, look at that! An unguarded hallway! I’ll just slip down there!” He spun around, and hurried towards the adjoining corridor.

Rakla was faster. He surged after the kobold, and snatched him up under his arms. Rakla hoisted the little lizard off his feet, barking laughter. “Time for your mission, little baby!” 

Mhaz wriggled and struggled, kicking his booted feet in the air, tail thrashing. “Lemme go, you ugly mutt! Just cause I’m smaller than you, don’t mean you can carry me around like a fuckin’ doll!”

“I dunno, you are about doll sized.” Rakla carried Mhaz back towards the open duct. He lifted him to the opening, and then forcefully shoved him inside. “Now get to work!”

Mhaz grunted as he was jammed into the cramped, metallic confines. “Ugh! This must be what a dragon’s sex toy feels like.”

“Exactly!” Rakla laughed as he put a large hand against the base of the kobold’s tail. “So get up in there, and do your job!” He shoved Mhaz further into the duct, causing him flop forward and bang his chin.

“Ow!” Mhaz winced, rubbing his aching jaw. “I’m gonna slap that giggle outta your mouth when I get outta here.”

“Any time you want, Moss.” Rakla set the grate back in place, turning the latches. “Remember, stay out of site until you can visibly confirm-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mhaz shook himself, rattling the duct. “I remember the damn mission.”

Rakla growled at him from behind the grating. “Stay quiet in there. And put your damn ear cuff on.”

Mhaz sighed, popping open one of his cargo pockets. He pulled out the miniature squawk box kept inside, and strapped the padded cuff across his head. The band pressed uncomfortably against his spiny frills. “I hate this stupid thing. Be so much cooler if we just had a tiny shard to put in our ear. Like the dragon’s claw!”

“Just get going!” Rakla stepped away from the duct, drawing his sidearm. “The others are gonna be in position and waitin’ for us.”

“Yeah, well…” Mhaz crawled forward a few paces. “I’m still waitin’ for you to kiss my scaly ass.”

 Mhaz crept onwards, inching his way through the ship’s ductwork. Though it was quite dark inside, kobolds were blessed with excellent night vision. The scant light spilling through the occasional vent was more than enough to guide his passage. It could have been worse, Mhaz thought. At least it was relatively clean inside, by duct standards. It wasn’t too dusty, and best he could tell, he wasn’t getting too slathered in grease.

Now and then the metal tube creaked and groaned around him. The kobold froze with each ominous noise, hoping the whole thing wasn’t about to collapse and dump him on his tail. After the next such pause, he licked his muzzle, and sniffed the air. So far, there was no sign of anything toxic. According to the blueprints they’d stolen, this duct was designed to pump fresh air throughout the length of the ship. But considering this was only a test voyage, conducted by a skeleton crew, who knew what kind of mishap might happen. It would be just Mhaz’s luck to choke to death on toxic engine fumes leaking into the wrong system.

Each time Mhaz passed a vent, he peered through it to orient himself. There was something eerie about seeing so many empty, poorly lit hallways with so many lights turned out. Normally a ship like this should be buzzing with soldiers and crewmen alike. Instead, it was as if the whole vessel was dead, it’s only passenger silence.

At least it made for an easier mission. More often than not, they barely made it out with all their extremities intact. In the case of at least one former member, not even that. Sneaking aboard a nearly empty ship, and facing only minimal resistance made for pleasant respite from the norm. Hell, if they made it through this with ammo to spare and no one bleeding, it would be damn near a vacation. Then again, if things were going to be that easy, Mhaz wasn’t sure they would have sent the Menagerie.

The Royal Menagerie.

That was what they were called. A tightly group of so-called misfit monsters, bound together in service to a singular kingdom. Being ‘monsters’ made them disposable, and deniable. If they were ever caught, the kingdom could easily deny all knowledge of the Menagerie, and its activities. They worked in secret, undertaking dangerous, and dirty operations the average citizen would never even know happened. From assassinations, to abductions, to high value target acquisition and everything in between, if they were wet work to be done?

Summon the Menagerie.

The group’s membership was often fluid, and not entirely voluntary. But at its heart, there was Mhaz, the leader and most valuable member. Mhaz was a combatant extraordinaire, as quick with his pistols as he was with his knives. Then there Rakla, the gnoll. Rakla was the brawler of the group, and also the tactician. Though gnoll and kobold were often at each other’s throats, when the shit exploded from the dragon, they’d always have each other’s backs. Then there was-

******

“Let me stop you right there.” The Veterinarian held her hands up, staring at the small, dark green kobold. Markings of bronze and crimson dappled his head and forearms. “First, please never say ‘shit exploded from the dragon’ ever again. I couldn’t scrub that image out of my brain with a wire brush.” She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Second? You’re not the damn leader! And third? Just what the hell are you doing?”

“Whaddya mean?” Mhaz traced a little circle on the table with a dull claw tip.

The Vet folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. Though she’d been the Menagerie’s Handler for years, now, somehow they still found new ways to irritate the hell out of her. “Three years. Six years, lizard.”

Mhaz scratched his muzzle. “Till what?”

“Six years since I saved you idiots from the damn gallows!” The Vet slapped the table. “I know who the fuck you are! You know that I know that, so why the hell are you introducing yourselves to me?”

Mhaz licked his snout, glancing at his hands. His little black-spined frills drooped. “Just tryin’ to set the scene. A story’s gotta have-”

“Just skip to the good part.” The Vet let out a long, slow sigh. “I don’t want to be here all night.”

“Oh, right.” Mhaz flashed her a grin, all fangs and kobold smugness. “You mean when I got laid.”

“You did not get laid!” Rakla snarled at him, pinning his ears. After a moment, the gnoll’s anger faded, and he sat back, grumbling. He rubbed the thicker ruff of dark fur on the back of his neck. “We never get laid.”     

“Speak for yourself, Dog Balls.” Mhaz curled his tail, idly inspecting it’s drab green scales and bronze stripes. “I gotta fend ‘em off with a stick.”

“If by them,” Rakla said, folding his arms. “You mean your own hands, then yeah, I’d believe that.”

The Veterinarian smirked. “The way you two argue, everyone just assumes you fuck already.”

Mhaz tossed his head, then clacked his teeth. “He couldn’t handle me.”

Rakla snorted at him. “I’d tear you in half, Moss.”

“Could you beasties do me a favor, and flirt on your own time?” The Vet glared at each of them in turn, before gesturing for Mhaz to continue. “Just skip to went things went south.”

“Right, right.” Mhaz rubbed his scaly hands. “So there Rakla was, totally naked. All of us were laughin’ at him cause it was so small-”

Rakla grabbed himself. “Why don’t you choke on it, you tiny newt.”

“Enough!” The Vet shot to her feet, jabbing a finger at each of them. “Both of you, enough! Keep it up, and you’re gonna be scrubbing out the dragon’s latrine, with your damn hands! Now.” She turned to the kobold, silently glowering until Mhaz was squirming in his seat. “Mhaz, tell me how everything went to shit.”

*****

Mhaz gnashed his teeth, glaring at the grating that wasn’t supposed to be there. According to the stolen blueprints, the entire ventilation system was accessible to anyone kobold sized. Instead, a sturdy metal grate now barred his way forward, just short of his destination. Mhaz had all manner of tools and thieving gear with him, but the latches and screws were only accessible from the other side. Even if the kobold could fit his hand through the opening, he doubted he could contort his wrist enough to turn the screws.

“Moss.” His ear cuff crackled with Rakla’s obnoxious voice. “You in position, or what?”

“Not quite.” Given the more pressing issue, the kobold decided against protesting the unwanted nickname, for now. He kept his voice to a whisper. “Got a problem. There’s-”

“Moss, you ready or not?” A new voice buzzed across the staticky ear-piece. It belonged to Noma, an urd’thin, and the second-smallest member of the Menagerie.

Mhaz growled under his breath. “No, Rat, I was just sayin’-”

“Don’t call me rat,” Noma said, snarling. Urd’thin were little larger than kobolds, with an appearance humans often compared unfavorably to a cross between a fox, and a rat. “You know I hate that!” 

“And you know I hate bein’ called Moss!” Mhaz hissed into mouthpiece.

Another new voice piped in. “Can we all just agree we hate each other?” This time it was Velk, a lanky va’chaak. Like kobolds, the va’chaak were akin to bipedal lizards, only where kobolds were much shorter than humans, va’chaak were often taller than the world’s dominant race. “Just tell us if you’re in position. Over.”

“I’m trying-”

“And say over when you’re done speaking! Over.”

Mhaz’s tail tip twitched in growing irritation. “Why don’t get in position to suck my balls?” He smirked. “Over.”

“Cause you’re a kobold.” Velk snorted, non-chalant. “I’m not sure I could find anything that small. Over.”

Mhaz’s smirk twisted into a snarl. “At least I got people interested in finding mine!”

“Getting kicked by pissed off women doesn’t count.” Velk laughed. “And you forgot to say over. Over.”

“Fuck you, and fuck your over.”

Rakla’s voice broke in. “Hey! Dipshits! Can we fuckin’ focus? I dunno about the rest of you, but I am in position. There’s a few more guards outside the bridge than we expected, but nothing I can’t handle. Velk, Noma? In position?”

“In position.” The smugness faded from Velk’s voice. “Few more guards outside the engine room, too. Weird uniforms. Over.”

Mhaz scrunched his muzzle. His frills twitched uncomfortably against the ear cuff’s strap. “Yeah, I got unexpected guards outside comms, too. And has anyone else noticed the doors are too big?”

“All doors are too big for you, Kobold.” Rakla paused, and then this voice tightened ever so slightly. “But yeah, I noticed. They’re bigger than usual, especially for a ship. Didn’t notice that on the blueprints.”

“Me either.” Mhaz wriggled back down the duct, towards a vent. “So we got extra guards, weirdly big doors, and there’s a new grate in my way? Gettin’ kinda suspicious.”

Rakla growled. “Guess that explains why they sent us.”

Mhaz licked his muzzle, grimacing. “We never get normal missions where we get laid.”

“Moss, I’m not sure you understand what a normal mission is,” Velk said. “How many guards you got? Over.”

The kobold glanced through the nearby vent, peering down into the hall. A trio of humans with pistols at their hips and rifles across their backs stood before the doorway that led to the communications room. Each wore a slate gray and dark blue uniform, remarkable mostly for how unremarkable it was. No emblems, no flags, no marks of rank, no identifiable insignia of any kind. They’d expected a mostly civilian skeleton crew, with a few marked guards from a sponsoring nation, but instead they got…

“They’re rippin’ us off!” Mhaz snapped his teeth. “They’re stealin’ our cool, unmarked, full deniability schtick.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Rakla gave a heavy sigh over the radio. “How many guards, Mhaz?”

“I count three.”

“That’s it?” Frustration crept into Rakla’s voice. “I thought you said you had a problem. Please tell me you’re not afraid of three guards.”

“Nah, that ain’t the problem.” Mhaz grunted, shifting his weight inside the duct. His right leg and tail tingled uncomfortably. Both were starting to fall asleep in the cramped confines. “I got a grate in the way! The problem is… ”

Mhaz trailed off when a door opened, and a fourth human entered. This one was wearing a heavy raincoat. Water sloshed down it in beaded rivulets. He must have been returning from outer deck patrol, Mhaz thought. The soaked guard shook his hood off, spraying droplets. As he approached the others, he pulled his hood back.

“Gods’ damn it,” he said, rubbing his arms. “It’s colder than a kobold’s cock out there!”

Mhaz hissed under his breath. “My cock is not cold!”

“Say again?” Velk sounded confused. “You’re cutting out, Moss. Did…did you just say the problem is, your cock is cold? Over.”

“No!” Mhaz put a gloved hand over his muzzle, groaning. “I said my cock is not cold.”

Rakla snorted. “Oh, good, I’m so happy for you. Thanks for letting us know. We were all real worried about the temperature of your dick.”

“Not mine! Kobolds, in general!” Mhaz thumped his fist against the duct. “People always say, it’s colder than a kobold’s cock, and it pisses me off. We’re not cold blooded, damn it, we’re-”

“Did you hear that?” The guard in the rain cloak pulled his rifle free. “There’s something in that air duct.”

“Oh, fuck.” Quietly as he could, Mhaz eased away from the vent. “Gonna need a second here.”

Mhaz crept away from the encroaching guard best he could. Even for a kobold, it was a tight fit, and crawling backwards was not a natural motion. Each time Mhaz’s armored belly scraped the metal a little too loudly, every time his tail bumped its confines, his heart skipped a beat. Any second now, and all four guards were going to rake the duct with gunfire, just to be sure.

Just ahead of him, the duct crumpled audibly as the lead guard poked it with his rifle barrel. Mhaz grit his teeth, trying to creep back faster. His frills ached, struggling to stand at alarmed attention even while his ear band pinned them down. As the kobold wriggled further away, he worked an arm down alongside him, unbuttoning his holster. The floor ahead of him rose again when the guard prodded another section, testing for unexpected weight.

The kobold kept squirming back, hoping his movements weren’t creating the same sort of visible distortion in the thin metal. At this rate, the guard would reach him in another few breaths, but there was no way he could move any faster and maintain relative silence. He was just gonna have to shoot the guard before the guard shot him. Mhaz dropped his other arm down to unbutton his other holster. He’d have to shoot blind, based on where the rifle barrel pressed against the ductwork. Mhaz slowly eased his pistols free, clawed fingers tight around both grips.

“It’s probably nothing.” Another guard’s voice joined the first. “This ship’s ventilation system is an afterthought, at best. With the way this shit’s cobbled together, we’re just lucky the duct hasn’t collapsed on us yet.”   

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” The floor ahead of Mhaz buckled inwards one last time, before the guards voice grew slightly more distant. “I’m ready to get dried off, anyway.”

Mhaz breathed a sigh of relief. He eased one of his pistols back into its holster, then whispered into his mouthpiece. “Okay, I think we’re good here.”

And then the duct collapsed.

The kobold gave a startled shriek as everything gave way beneath him. His belly lurched into his throat, and for a heartbeat he was falling. Mhaz tried to twist himself in the air, wanting to land on his feet and pop up firing. But the fall was over as soon as it began, and he’d only reoriented himself halfway around. The kobold struck the ground hard on his rump and tail, sending a jolt of pain all the way up his spine.

“OW!” Mhaz cried out, grabbing the base of his tail with his free hand. “My ass!”

“Ah!” One of the guards cried out as broken ductwork struck him. He stumbled away, clutching his head.

“What the fuck?” Down the hall, another guard gaped at Mhaz, his jaw hanging out. “Is that a kobold?”

His companion stared the same way. “Is it wearing body armor?”

“Ah, hey boys,” Mhaz said, still grimacing in pain. “Which way to the shitter?”

“I knew it!” The human in the rain slicker shouldered his rifle. “Freeze, you little fucker!” He glanced over his shoulder. “Intruder! Sound the alarm!”

The two men near the door snapped into action. One of them pounded on it three times in quick succession. “Alarm, alarm!”

Nearby, the man holding his bloodied head groaned, reaching for his side arm. “Just shoot that dirty little monster!”

Well, Mhaz thought, so much for the easy way. Granted, in one hand, Mhaz was still holding his ass. But in the other hand, he was holding a gun. In a single, smooth, impossibly fast motion, Mhaz lifted his pistol and fired at the first man taking aim. The bullet erupted through the skull of the guard in the raincoat in a spray of blood and gore. In the tight corridor, the gunshot’s report was like a slap across the earhole, and left his whole head ringing.

Mhaz sprang forward, using the dead man’s crumpling body for cover as the other three opened fire at him. Crack after crack rang out, several bullets punched through the body. One tore through the man’s belly, spraying Mhaz with something foul. None of the shots struck the kobold. With a grunt of effort, he shoved the body forward, then pivoted around it, whirling towards the one who’d called him a monster.

The kobold fired twice, striking the human in the chest and the shoulder. He cried out, stumbled back, and tried to level off at Mhaz. Mhaz darted forward, throwing his free arm up to knock the human’s hand aside just in time. A bullet smashed into the floor near the other guard’s feet. Mhaz spun around, twisting around behind the mortally wounded gunmen. At the same time, he drew his second pistol, firing both. He struck one of the guards in the thigh, and just missed the other.

Somewhere in the background, alarm bells rang. Mhaz scarcely noticed them over the persistent ringing in his ears. He dove behind a collection of crimson-painted pipes as the remaining guards opened fire. Bullets struck metal with a horrific, squealing clang. Steam erupted from fresh holes, and Mhaz ducked down, away from the scalding vapor.

“Mhaz?” Rakla’s voice came over the ear cuff, but Mhaz could barely make it out. The fact he used his real name meant the gnoll realized things were going bad. “Mhaz, what’s happening?”

Mhaz wanted to say something calm, collected, and impressive. Something about taking care of a little problem. Instead, when another bullet slammed into the steam pipes, Mhaz shouted something a little less impressive. “I fell on my ass!”

“You…” Rakla’s voice was thick with confused disbelief. “You fell on your ass? Did you land on the goddamn alarm or what?”

“Little busy, Rakla!” Mhaz fired a few shots through the steam, watching for any sign of movement.

The door to the communications room suddenly cracked open. “Inside!” Another human peeked out, silhouetted behind the gushing steam as he beckoned at the wounded guards. “Bring him inside!”

Mhaz quickly flicked one of his cylinders opened, and replaced the spent rounds. He knew he only had time to reload one pistol, so it would have to be enough. He snapped it shut, and peeked around the pipes. The only guard who hadn’t taken a bullet yet was dragging his hobbled companion to the door. Beyond it, another man aimed a rifle through the opening, providing cover. Probably a comms officer, Mhaz thought. He likely had company. The kobold waited, nearly holding his breath. He had to time this just right, unless he really wanted to test his body armor.

“Come on, come on!” The comms officer cracked the door a little wider. “I’ve got you covered!

Mhaz waited and waited, his heart thrashing his sternum. Finally, he saw his chance. The comms officer lifted his weapon just long enough to help the other two inside. Mhaz sprang out from behind the pipes and sprinted towards the open door. Just as he neared it, he leapt, landing atop the wounded human. The guard screamed as Mhaz used him like a ramp, hurtling up his body, then leaping through the doorway. Mhaz twisted around in the air, firing at every human he saw.

“Cover my ass, shit-licks!” In the back of his mind, Mhaz realized that didn’t sound anywhere near as cool as he intended.

The comms officer dropped first, hit right between the eyes. Another man inside cried out when a bullet pierced his shoulder. The guard in the doorway took one in the belly, crumpling to the floor with an agonized groan. This time, Mhaz landed on his feet just as three more guards returned fire. Mhaz scrambled between them, spinning and weaving all the taller soldiers. He fired at legs and knees, then aimed higher, for chests and heads. One man crumpled, clutching his ruined knee. A bullet plowed through another guard’s chin, exploding out the top of his head. He toppled sideways, gushing blood across the instruments at his station.

Suddenly, one of Mhaz’s pistols clicked empty. He cursed, then smashed it over the head of a stricken man. A bullet buzzed past him, cracking through the air just above his head. He whirled around and fired back, burying a round in the throat of another wounded soldier. Then that gun too, was empty. Another gunshot rang out, another angry hornet shrieked past him. For all the shit Mhaz took about his size, it was moments like this that made him ever so glad to be a kobold. Kobolds, after all, made for awfully small targets for people used to shooting at other humans.

Mhaz shoved his guns back into their holsters, then grabbed a chair and hefted it up like a shield. He surged towards the last gunman, slumped against a wall but still firing. A bullet shattered part of the chair’s seat. Shrapnel and padding sprayed across Mhaz’s muzzle. With a feral cry, Mhaz charged, smashing the chair into the man’s chest. The human coughed, and Mhaz scrabbled over the chair, drawing one of his knives. The soldier struggled to push the chair aside to take aim at the kobold, but Mhaz was faster. He stomped on the human’s trapped arm, and thrust his blade into the human’s throat. Blood gushed across his head, but Mhaz the knife buried until the soldier’s struggles stopped.

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the persistent clang of the alarm bell. Mhaz pulled his knife free, quickly glancing around to make sure everyone else was dead or incapacitated. The kobold panted heavily. Between the exertion of battle, and lingering adrenaline, everything ached. The acrid scent of gunsmoke and the coppery tang of blood smothered the air.

Mhaz pivoted on his feet, surveying the compact battlefield. The comms room was larger than he expected, with several individual stations located around it. Each station had its own set of dials and gauges, squawk boxes and talk-tubes, with drawers tucked away beneath them. A relay station and switch board occupied one end of the room. A safe sat beneath it. Corpses now littered the room. Mhaz wiped his knife off on a dead man’s uniform, counting his kills. All told, he’d taken down nine well-armed humans.

“Yes!” Mhaz pumped his fists. “I am a badass!”

The kobold took a deep breath, hoping to steady his nerves. He looked himself over, dismayed by how much blood covered him, along with what he suspected was viscera. Mhaz scrunched his muzzle. Gross. As soon as they were back home, Mhaz was going to take a very long, very hot bath. Preferably with someone who was very into badass kobolds who did badass things. Until then, he had a mission to complete.

Mhaz supposed there was little use in disabling the alarm now. That was his initial objective, to secure the comms room, disable the alarms, and ensure no one could radio for help. Then, Rakla was to secure the bridge, while Velk and Noma did the same for the engine room. Noma was also tasked with getting pictures of anything unusual or suspicious. Since it was too late to stop the alarms, Mhaz decided to seek out the ship’s wireless communications. If they’d already called for help, maybe Mhaz could bluff his way into getting the mayday canceled. Surely, they had a logbook around with code phrases somewhere.

The kobold started climbed up onto a chair, then wiped blood off dials and transmissions equipment. He paused to speak into his mouthpiece. “Mhaz here. Comms secured.” He paused a moment, then snorted. “Over.”

“Mhaz!” Rakla’s voice was strained, the sound buzzing and only half audible. “What the hell… Get… now!”

“What?” Mhaz pulled a drawer open, revealing a stack of leatherbound journals and other books. “Oh, fucking yes please.” He adjusted his earpiece. “Hey, I think I found comms logs, code books, and maybe some equipment manuals? Have you secured the bridge, Rakla?” This time, there was no immediate answer. A little tingle of dread built at the base of Mhaz’s frills. “Rakla? Velk, Noma? What the hell’s going on?”

“Out!” This time it was Velk’s voice. “Get out! They have…”

“What?” Mhaz straightened up. He quickly drew a pistol, and dumped the spent cartridges. “You’re breaking up!” Fast as he could, Mhaz reloaded. “They have what, now?” He lashed his tail, increasingly anxious when there was no immediate answer. “Velk, what do they have?”

“Gryphons.” The voice, loud, sharp, and entirely unfamiliar, was right behind him. “They have gryphons.”

Mhaz snapped his cylinder shut and spun around just in time to see the armored gryphon standing in the doorway hurl an entire dead human at him.