Author's Notes: Hello everyone, this is a new story for me and I am trying some new things to see how they pan out. Games Workshop (GW) owns Warhammer. WARNING: This chapter contains violence and mention of rape.
The clanging of the bell woke Harken from his sleep. With a groan he rose from his pallet and pulled on his boots and clothing. Going to the basin he splashed water on his face and dragged a razor across his stubble. Groomed and now fully awake he left his room and walked down the all-too-familiar corridors of the ship in which he had spent most of his twenty-six years of life. The ship in question was the Glory of Prosperity, aVagabond-Class Merchant Trader and it was the property of the Zaphir Merchants Guild, or simply the Guild, a conglomeration of various mercantile organizations which between them held more power in the Zaphir system than the system governor. In addition to the Glory of Prosperity the Guild owned a number of other ships, as well as the crews, including Harken.
He had been born in a slave camp on the hive world of Zarda Prime, the capital world of the system. All born there were bonded to the Guild for life and raised to a life of service to it. He had been assigned to the Glory of Prosperity. Being both large and strong, the result of generations of his ancestors being bred for physical labor, he had been assigned to the lower decks. In the lower decks there was a law which superseded even the orders of the Captain: brute force. Harken had been beaten to a pulp on his first day to teach him his place and virtually every day after that had been a battle for survival when not performing his official dutites. In time he had come to dominate many of the other lower deck workers, not just for his strength, but for the spark of intelligence which manifested itself. It had first been noticed by his labor gang overseer, who had brought it to the attention of the officers. At first they seemed to regard it as a joke, there was even one who said it was rather like an Ogryn Bone'ead, still it was thought that he might be of use.
He found himself raised from the lower decks to the upper decks, even onto the bridge. He was not an officer and he still bore the barcode marking him as Guild property on the back of his right hand like all slaves, but he had more freedom and privilege than the others. He was used to run errands and to crack skulls when needed and he became somewhat familiar with the operations of the bridge, though much of it remained alien to him. He also became familiar with the officers who commanded the ship which was his world. Most of them were colorless, forgettable individuals. The Glory of Prosperity was an old ship and far from the most prestigious of postings and many of the officers just wanted to serve on it for as short a time as possible and then move on to more desirable posting. The only ones who seemed likely to remain aboard for the rest of their lives, or duties to the Guild which were usually the same thing, Beatus Brensinger, the ship's purser who Harken was convinced had been installed when the ship was first built and who rarely left his quarters and seemed permanently hunched over his massive ledgers. The other was Maximinus Thrax Matsoukas, captain and terror of the ship.
When they were in their cups the other officers spoke of the rumor that Matsoukas had been in the Imperial Navy before being cashiered, after, it was said, he was caught in bed with the wife of an admiral. Harken did not know if the story was true or not, but he did know that the Captain was a figure of fear and loathing about the ship. The man may have been a good officer in the Navy, but his disgrace and regulation to commanding a second-rate ship like the Prosperity had made him bitter and cruel. While the Prosperity was a merchant ship owned by the Guild, the Captain continually acted as if it were a naval vessel. Which included floggings for anyone late to their post. With that last thought Harken picked up his pace and was actually early and so was there when the Captain came to the bridge.
Captain Matsoukas may have been in the Navy at one time, but if so he had let himself go since. He had steadily put on weight till he was grossly obese and his Navy coat no longer fit and he had to have a custom-made belt to hold the cutlass he had wielded during his time in the Navy, at least that was the rumor among some of the other officers. Indeed, he waddled more than he walked and made his way to his throne after entering the bridge only with great difficulty. His flesh was pale from a lifetime in the artificial lighting of voidships. His eyes were small, pale blue in color and nearly invisible in the folds of fat in his face. As he seated himself in his throne his eyes swept the bridge, paying particular attention to Harken and the other slaves. Harken knew what he was looking for.
The Captain was infamous for his cruelty throughout the crew. He seemed to take a great delight in inflicting savage punishment on the crew for even the smallest infraction, some times there were no infraction at all. Matsoukas's ousting from the Navy had left him bitter and it seemed that the only source of pleasure left for him was to inflict pain on others, or perhaps he had always been that way, not that it really matter to Harken and the rest of the crew. The Captain enjoyed his cruelties and the crew had no choice but to endure it. So it had become a bit of a ritual, the Captain would come to the bridge and look for anything for him to punish. The crew, for their part, would do their best to avoid giving him any justification. Seeing nothing the Captain's mouth formed a hard line in displeasure, but fortunately he remained quiet.
Though he was careful to avoid making it visible Harken let out a sigh with relief and he was sure that he was not the only one. It seemed that, at least for now, they would be spared the Captain's wrath. If they did not suffer; however, another would. Though he was by no means what one would call an overly sympathetic individual Harken did not envy Boy. Boy, his actual name of Cleitus was rarely used by any on the ship, had also come from one of Zarda's slave camps, though not the same one as Harken. He had come to the ship about a year or so ago, a scared youth of sixteen who was too skinny and weak for ship work and far too pretty for a boy. It had been speculated that he had originally been intended to serve in the house of one of the Guild higher ups, but had somehow angered his owner and Cleitus had been sent to the Prosperity.
As one might guess, he had not done well down in the lower decks and it had been assumed that he would not last long, or would have been assumed had anyone cared, but it was not to be the case. He had somehow caught the attention of the Captain and Cleitus found himself serving in the Captain's quarters. If he thought that his life was getting better, he soon found out that he was mistaken. The Captain, when he had no excuse to brutalize other members of the crew, took his tendencies out on Cleitus and he soon acquired an ever-shifting collection of bruises, burns and broken bones and that was not even the worst of it. In addition to his other cruelties the Captain had apparently developed a taste for pederasty and Cleitus was the target of his…affections.
Harken's duties occasionally took to the Captain's quarters and he had seen Cleitus from time to time. The boy was clearly not doing well, sinking into his own world. The last time Harken had seen him the boy had been curled up in a corner, hugging his legs to his chest and muttering to himself, his eyes looking as if he was staring into his own private universe. Harken did not think the boy would last long and the only question was who would end his suffering, himself or the Captain. Well, it wasn't Harken's problem, he had enough of those of his own.
He was not sure what had happened, he was not privy to Guild business, but he had overheard talk among the officers and he knew that something was going wrong. For whatever reason the Guild was unhappy with the Prosperity and its Captain and while Harken was unsure what form that displeasure had taken, but he knew that it had made the Captain very unhappy and he was not hesitant to express his unhappiness upon his favorite target: everyone whom he outranked. With the exception of the senior officers the whole crew had learned to dread being noticed by the Captain, as all it took these days for one to be judged guilty of some infraction or other and be subjected to increasingly savage punishments. These ranged from beatings to floggings to being spaced. He was not sure if that last one was permitted, the Guild usually frowned on the destruction of property, but it had only been done to lower deck crewmembers, unskilled rabble whom no one was likely to care about and were easily replaceable. For the moment; however, the Captain seemed content to sit in his throne and glower at the viewport ahead of him.
The shift passed slowly, but fortunately without incident. At its end Harken left the bridge and went to the mess hall. The food was not that good, consisting primarily of nutrient past, though his position ensured that there were a few dehydrated vegetable cubes in it as well. After he ate he considered going to the lower decks. He knew that Three-fingers Fink, so named after he annoyed the wrong armsman with a knife, was organizing a fight which presented Harken the chance to put a few more thrones in his pocket. In the end he decided against it; of late the fights had been dull and not terribly entertaining to watch. Plus, it was rumored that the Captain disapproved of such things and now was not the time to be courting the Captain's wrath. Indeed, there was a rumor that the Captain was planning on cracking down on such events. That would be a stupid thing to do.
The Captain had been becoming increasingly brutal of late it was being to have an undesired effect. Moral was at an all-time low and the usual resentment which crewmen felt towards their superiors had been rising steadily as the Captain's punishments grew in numbers and severity. While guarding the officers he had heard the word mutiny and the possibility of it being discussed. Had they asked Harken he could have told them that not only were their fears justified, if anything their fears were less than they should be.
Crew moral had plummeted as the Captain grew more tyrannical and while at first they had been terrified and still were, the fear had gradually morphed into hatred. Every time he went to the lower decks he had heard the grumblings, which had only grown louder with time and Harken figured that it was a very good thing that none of the officers ever went down there, he doubted that he, or any other of the ship's armsmen, would be able to keep the officers safe should they go down there. Still, Harken did not think that anything would come of it. The crew may hate the officers, what crew did not, but they were powerless to act. The crew who suffered the most were in the lower decks, naturally, but no one cared about them. After all, they were unskilled and easily replaced. He shook his head to clear it of all these thoughts, of which there was nothing he could do about it one way or another and returned to his quarters to sleep.
He was awoken some time later by his door being slammed open. Living years in the lower decks, when thefts and attacks could happen at any time had left Harken a light sleeper with rapid reflexes and he was out of bed and on his feet in an instant, but it wasn't fast enough. A shock maul struck him in the head. It sent a jolt of electricity through him which, when combined with the blow itself, left him stunned and disoriented. As he struggled to stop everything from spinning around strong hands grabbed him and hauled him from his room.
The hands thrust him into the corridor where he fell to the deck. He could only splutter out half-formed curses as boots kicked him to his feet. At least his head stopped spinning enough for him to see who was attacking him. It was Chief Armsman Strodes and eight of his goons. They were in full flack armor and in addition to their armor they were carrying shotguns and power mauls. Harken was still angry, but now he was confused as well.
"Strodes, what the he…" That was as far as he got before one of the armsmen bashed him in the back of the head, nocking it to the deck.
"On you feet scum!" Strodes snapped at him. He then walked off with six of his men, leaving two with Harken.
"Get him with the others." With that he was gone.
Harken finally got to his feet and was pushed along the corridor. Along the way they encountered other groups of armsmen herding groups of crewmen along at gunpoint. Harken's confusion grew; what in the name of Terra was going on? It did not help that the crewmen appeared to be from all parts of the ship, with no apparent rhyme nor reason. Nor was it immediately apparent where they were going, though they appeared to be heading towards the various cargo holds. The armsmen pushed and kicked them into the main cargo hold, where a number of other crewmen. As the two groups came together the same question was being asked again and again.
"What is going on?" Harken was asked the question dozens of times and heard it being asked around him. He did not have an answer and he did not like that fact. Time passed and more crewmen were herded in. They appeared to be from different parts of the ship, the only thing which they had in common was the fact that they all appeared to be of the lower ranks. At last the flow of crewmen ended and a voice crackled over the ship-wide vox unit, a voice which Harken identified as belonging to Elantius Kyro, the ship's first officer.
"Attention! Crew of the Glory of Prosperity, this is a message from the Captain! Crew efficiency and discipline have both fallen to unacceptable levels. As all other methods to restore disciple to the crew have failed and so the Captain has settled on the what he feels is a course of action which will both ensure discipline and improve efficiency.
"One tenth of the crew has been chosen at random and will be sent to the Sanctuary of Repurposing. May their fate prove a warning to both the remaining crew and to their replacements: discipline will be maintained. May the God-Emperor's will be done." With that the officer stopped speaking. Cries of horror and outrage sounded throughout the cargo hold. In their panic they pushed and shoved one another in all directions.
All there knew of the Sanctuary, a Mechanicus facility located on Zarda Prime and was a place of dread and horror. It was where the Guild and the governor sent criminals, malcontents and slaves who failed in their duties. People went in, servitors came out.
"WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS?!"
"WHY US?!" These and other cries echoed throughout the cargo hold. Cries which only increased in volume and desperation as the doors to the cargo hold began to slide shut. Seeing this something cut through all the conflicting emotions which Harken was experiencing. It was rage.
He had served these snortling-fondlers his whole life! And this was how they repaid him?! This rage shocked him out of his stunned inaction and got him moving. This was just like any other fight which he had been in and in a fight there was only one to win. Attack.
"COME ON IF YOU WANT TO LIVE!" He yelled to the others as he charged the closing doors. The others followed him instinctively at first, obeying Harken had been something which had been ingrained into them for years. They were also fueled by fear, rage and basic survival instincts, the last of these being further inflamed by the sight of the hatches closing.
Armsmen at the hatch opened fire on them as they surged forward in an effort to hold them back until the hatch closed, but those within knew that to stop was to die and this drove them on. Many fell to the armsmens' weapons, but not enough. The two groups crashed together and devolved into a tangled mass of kicking, punching, biting and cursing men. The armsmen were better trained and many more of the crew fell to them, but the crew were too many and they overwhelmed and beat down the armsmen. Harken and the others stripped the corpses of their weapons, though for the most part none had ever held a weapon beyond a knife. Someone got the idea to finish sealing the hatch, ensuring that they were safe from that threat. There were shouts and cheers from some, but others were looking around with confused and scared looks on their faces. Harken understood.
These men and women had been raised their entire lives to obey those above them. What they had just done, direct defiance of their masters, was considered to be the worst crime which they could commit and now that the rush of escape and anger were beginning to wear off they were starting to think about what they had done that could prove crippling. True, they could not get into any more trouble than they already were, but that would not occur to many of them. If they were allowed to think on this they might become paralyzed by fear and indecision. He had to get them moving, keep what they were doing from sinking in fully.
"COME ON!" He cried, stooping to snatch up a shotgun from a dead armsman.
"TO THE BRIDGE!" With that he took off running, pleased and relieved to hear the sound of the others, or at least most of them, following behind him.
They had only one option now. The Guild may or may not have approved of what the Captain was going to do to them, but he knew for a fact that they would not forgive an uprising against their authority. There was only one option left: they would have to take the ship and run. Run where he did not know, but somewhere far enough away that the Guild could not get them, if there was any such place in the Imperium. For now; however, they still had to take the ship, something which was not guaranteed. They were outnumbered by the remainder of the crew, who would not wish to alienate their masters in the Guild by attempting to aid those the Captain had marked for death. As they progressed along; however, Harken found that the situation was far from what he had expected it to be.
As he moved down the hall he saw members of the crew fighting both the few armsmen present and amongst each other. It seemed that the long-simmering hatred they had harbored towards the Captain had finally boiled over into violence and Harken found more and more people falling in behind him till by the time they reached the bridge at least half the crew seemed to be with them, not that they were having it all their own way. Whether it was ingrained loyalty to the Guild, or fear of the Captain, in addition to the armsmen many of the crew stood against them and as they made their way to the bridge they saw many small fights as the two groups fought each other. Harken did not have time to intervene and, in truth, he did not know who was who.
At last they burst onto the bridge, many of those who would have ordinarily barred their way having been called off to deal with the array of crisis which had developed. Here, as elsewhere on the ship, there was fighting going on between those loyal to the Guild and mutineers. Even as Harken looked about, trying to determine who was on who's side, there was a blast of a number of shotguns. A dozen of the crew fell to the deck, either dead or injured. It did not take long to determine the source of their injury.
Fifteen armsmen, all wielding shotguns, were arrayed around the command throne. With them was the Captain. His pig-like eyes narrowed as he looked at the scene before him. His rubbery lips curled in a snarl.
"Mutiny." He spat, drawing his cutlass with one hand and a pistol-like device with the other.
"Regulations state that the punishment for mutiny, is death." He stated in a flat tone of voice. With that he pointed the pistol, seemingly at random, into the combatants. Instead of a las blast, bullet or bolter shell a gout of flame shot out. It caught two men attempting to strangle each other, they both caught alite and thrashed about screaming. While their fate was horrible, it had an unexpected benefit for Harken and his fellow mutineers. Those opposing them saw that the Captain was ready to kill them all, loyal or not, causing many of them to switch sides.
Still, the situation was not good. Though vastly outnumbered the Captain and his armsmen were better armed a positioned so that the only way to come at them was a frontal assault, one that would result in many casualties. Then perhaps the most unexpected development of all occurred. Cleitus, dressed only in a robe which was far too large for him, his hair bedraggled and sporting several bruises, staggered onto the bridge. How he had gotten there Harken did not know, nor did he care, having more pressing matters at the moment. He was worse than ever, he did not appear to know where he was and though he was too far away for Harken to hear Harken could see that he was muttering to himself. The Captain had also seen him and he sneered at the boy.
"What are you doing here you little wh…" That was as far as he got.
Cleitus looked at the Captain and a terrifying transformation came over him. He ceased his mutterings and his eyes focused on the Captain and became hard with hatred. His body began to shake and jerk as if he were having a fit. Suddenly his body went rigid and he unleashed a scream which chilled all who heard it. Looking like a marionet being manipulated by invisible strings Cleitus's arms shot forward, his fingers hooked like claws and scarlet lightning shot from them. They shot out and engulfed the Captain and his armsmen.
They shrieked and howled as their skin blackened and burned, but the Captain suffered the worst of all. Perhaps guided by Cleitus' hate the lightning seemed to center on the man. His eyes exploded as the lightning forced its way into his eye sockets. He tried to scream, but more lightning poured into his open mouth, causing his tongue to boil and then burst. At last the man seem to come apart and fall to the deck, nothing but burnt meat. At that Cleitus too fell to the deck. He pulled his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth, once again muttering to himself.
That pretty much ended the battle. The death of the Captain, and the horrific nature of that death, quickly spread throughout the ship. As they heard it the few who were still opposing the mutiny lay down their arms, no point in dying for a lost cause. As the battle came to an end the crew began to look about in a confused manner, as if they were just now realizing what they had done. In addition to realizing the enormity of what they had done there was the fact that they did not know what to do next. All their lived they had grown up in strict hieratical environment where there was always someone above them to tell them what to do, it was harsh, but it was familiar. Now that familiarity was gone and they were clearly afraid of the unknown. While unsettling for them, it worked out well for Harken. His previous position had granted him more freedom and authority than many of the crew and, with it soon being apparent that all of the officers were dead, he was now the highest-ranking person on the ship.
He had used this to proclaim himself the new captain and there had not been any protest from the survivors. It was then; however, that he discovered the first difficulty of command. While the battle to take the ship had not been long, it had been bloody. More than half the crew was either dead or injured to the extent that they were temporarily or permanently unbale to help crew the ship. Additionally, many of the bridge duties and other important areas of the ship had been seen to by officers. As he sat in the command throne Harken could see a disturbing number of empty stations and he had no idea how to fill them. Fortunately, he could do something about the crew shortage.
"Helmsman, set course for Zarda Prime." After all, they were expected at the Sanctuary. Its cells were said to always be full and Harken was sure that, when faced by the prospect of servitorhood, many would welcome an alternative.
Author's Notes: So there is the first chapter, I hope you liked it. I was inspired in part by Sid Myer's Pirates. I have a lot going on so updates will not regular. Till next time good day and may Jesus bless you.