The Black Guard

The Khaleorn didn't find anything funny. He jabbed the muzzle of the gun at Thjorska.
"What's so funny?" He hissed.
"You stupid shax-heads, I am not the only son of the Emperor! I am only 43rd in line!" Thjorska chuckled. The Khaleorn swung his gun round and pointed it at a th'Riin child. Thjorska stopped laughing instantly.
"Your Emperor," the Khaleorn said, spitting dryly at the name, "does not care for you? Maybe he does not care for this one either?"
The young th'Riin trembled as the Khaleorn primed his gun. The Khaleorn's gaze didn't wander from Thjorska's.
"Okay," said Thjorska. "You've made your point. What are your demands?"
"The dissolution of the Empire and all its armed forces. You have constantly interfered with the development of growing species such as ourselves."
"We have only given you what help you asked for," said Thjorska levelly. The gun had not yet turned away from the th'Riin.
"You did enough damage creating this oppressive imperialist dictatorship! If we are truly to flourish as independent species, then the Empire must go."
"But what about the good the Empire has done? How we protect you from the Ljynii?" Thjorska asked carefully. He wouldn't dare risk getting the child shot.
"The Ljynii are a myth, created by the Empire to further push us under your dominion!"
Thjorska took several deep breaths. He'd fought against Ljynii Screamers, watched as they tortured and slowly killed his friends and comrades.
"The Ljynii are no myth," he said shakily.
"I do not believe you, and neither do the rest of the Empire any more," said the Khaleorn smugly, finally turning his gun from the th'Riin. The child clung to her mother and hid behind her leg. The Khaleorn eyed Thjorska carefully and motioned to two of his lackeys.
"Make sure they stay in their cabins," he hissed. They stuck their tongues out in agreement and herded the passengers back into their seats. Once everyone was in place, the doors were closed. Bjors cursed loudly.
"Thanhaz! Of all the shaxxing things that could have gone wrong..."
"Calm down, Bjors," Thjorska said. "This shuttle is Jotun design, right?"
"Sure," replied Bjors, puzzled.
"Jotun designers are very cautious," Thjorska said, smiling, pressing his hands on sections of the wall. "Or to put it another way, utterly paranoid."
He suddenly jerked his hand back and hissed through his teeth. He shook the pain away and smiled again.
"Behold," he smirked, as a section of the wall slid away. "The ventilation system, opened up by Jotun dDNA."
"Well, bravo, I'm sure," said Pitrak, "But how does this help us?"
"It can't help you, that's for certain. You're too big to fit in there," said Bjors. Pitrak rolled his eyes.
"I know that. What I want to know is how this will help get those shaxxing zegs off the shuttle."
"Ah, you dare to underestimate the paranoia of Jotun design. I shall prove to you otherwise," Thjorska said, lifting himself up into the vent. He was remarkably fast at crawling, and was soon gone from sight. The wall sealed itself back up after him.

Thjorska carefully opened the vent grille and slipped down to the floor silently. That was the principle idea, anyway, but it turned out he had emerged in the cargo bay a good twenty feet from the floor. He fell loudly on his front and grimaced with pain.
Getting to his feet, he looked around quickly. No gunfire, no shouts to stop or such... Everything was going reasonably well. Now he needed to get a gun of some kind before any of those damn terrorists came snooping around.
"Isss sssomeone there?"
Damn.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3