Up north, separated by the great Deredèa river, lied the nation of Kortaria.
The cultural capital of the Bambularian continent.
It was the geographical center, and the most influential country.
Despite not being the richest, or the most technologically advanced, it's strength lied in it's influence.
Kortarians praised and hallowed their god, Karkano.
The god of creation.
Beyond the physical plane lied the astral plane, there 5 gods were in charge of creating and sustaining the universe as we know it.
Karkano created everything from nothing.
Kurviz and Kamidral gave it a cycle of life and death.
Kuzureta encouraged growth through conflict.
And Kunzai managed the inorganical.
Each deity had their own spot in the Pentagon of Perfection, a religious symbols shared across all cultures.
Kortaria had rough relationships with Geortaria.
They sent their Navy to our lands of Undeb Dehulm to help us out.
Their food and water prevented any famines from the Geortarian military.
Now my job was to block any Kortarian aid from reaching the land.
A navy member was piloting the boat as I, along with a couple teammates, stood still on deck.
Our eyes had to be sharp focused into the foggy distance, surrounded by endless sea.
If any unrecognized ship approached us the process was a simple one, although it could lead to certain trouble.
I grabbed my radio and proceeded with the usual protocol.
We had sent out an international blockade declaration for any neutral countries, since commerce would still need to be held.
"Unidentified vessel, this is Alha-16. State your flag, cargo and destination."
My eyes finally caught a glimpse of the ship approaching us.
It's base was black with a thick, bright, white border.
My eyes couldn't process the cargo just yet, then the radio's static was abruptly cut as a deep voice came through the speaker.
"This is Kiarinon, of Mazhak Ham'n. Kortarian. Cargo manifest transmitted."
A blue light blinked on my console as their data packet came through.
I glanced down, scrolling through it with my thumb.
Wood, stone, silicone.
All civilian-grade items.
"Looks clean," someone muttered behind me.
I wouldn't let the commanders scold us for letting foreign aid into the Protectorate.
Kortarian ships always looked clean, but what matter was what they hid behind the surface.
"Reduce speed and prepare for inspection." I said into the radio.
"Understood."
The voice replied, their engines throttling down as the ship drifted closer.
Ropes were thrown as the anchors set the ship in place, hitting against the ocean floor.
The team moved, our boots hitting the deck as we entered the foreign cargo ship.
My nostrils were embraced by the smell of wet wood.
I ran my hand along a stack of timber crates, some splinters bit into my scales, moments like this were when I was thankful for not having skin.
Stone slabs were strapped down in tight cubes.
Nothing seemed out of place.
"Open the lower cargo bay."
The lieutenant commanded.
The crew complied without protest, the hatch opening shortly.
We descended into the darkness beneath us.
The lower hold was a lot colder than the surface, the moisture could be felt on every surface, lumber beams held the ceiling, evenly spread apart.
I stepped between them, my boots echoing in the large empty space.
Thud.
I froze before taking another step.
Had it been the ship settling?
I moved closer to the stacks, my palm brushing against a beam.
Thud.
This time I actually felt the vibrations through my feet.
I crouched, pressing my hand against the deck.
Nothing.
I reached out into my pocket, tapping on one of the radio's buttons.
Beep, beep, beep. Beep. Beep, beep. Beeep, beeep, beep, beep. Beep.
"Anything wrong?" the supervisor asked behind me.
"Shift that pile."
I pointed to the timber stack on the port side.
"That's registered cargo."
He replied with a calm, polite tone.
"Did I stutter?" my voice fell flat, "Shift. It."
Two sailors stepped forward and began unstrapping the beams.
His attitude was nothing short of suspicious, seems my guess was right.
One beam moved on its own, just a small amount.
"Back up," I ordered.
The beam slid aside and something knocked back from below, a scream came from underneath the pile.
"Wait-!" The supervisor managed to mutter as he approached me, his calm tone dropped into a more shaky one.
BANG.
I shot behind me without thinking twice.
Had it been without due process? Yes.
The supervisor fell onto the ground, the bullet went right through his neck, he made gross sounds as he gargled on his own blood.
I didn't feel anything other than a familiar sinking sensation in my gut.
If I was Geortarian I'd be feeling immense pride at protecting my country like this, but as an Undebian I just felt empty.
The other two sailors rushed in to stop me by force.
On my left, one was shot on the sciatic nerve by my comrade, severing it, immobilizing him.
And on my right, the leutenant had simply shot him right in the forehead, dead on the spot.
My signal had worked, memorizing morse code came in handy.
( Writer's note: The morse code was "SEIZE" )
The thudding turned frantic now, multiple strong impacts in a row.
Ah, adult Undebian refugees, one of the most common things you'd find on these ships.
People who'd sold everything they owned for a chance at freedom.
The lumber was pulled away completely and they spilled out.
Men first. Thin and hollow-eyed.
Some still had work clothes on, others wore nothing but wrapped rags.
Their hands shot up immediately, their palms open and their fingers shaking.
Behind them were women.
One clutching another so tightly her knuckles were white.
And further back, hidden in the dark.
I gagged, my heart strained as I saw...
Children.
Not many of them, maybe two or three, it was hard to tell in the low light.
One of them was holding onto a man's leg, his face buried into his thigh and trembling.
For all I knew that was his father.
"Please, we're Undebian, n-not soldiers, civilians."
I already knew that.
The accent was engraved in my mind from the countless nights of getting taught how to get rid of it.
The lieutenant stepped forward beside me.
His rifle lowered into firing position.
"Confirmed contraband," he said calmly into his radio.
Static hissed for a moment before the reply came through.
"Orders stand. No aid reaches Undeb Dehulm. Execute refugees, keep at least one of the Kortarian crew members alive for interrogation."
Execution.
It still didn't feel right to me.
War could never break the ties you have with your own people.
"K'arib, keep the guy with the bleeding leg alive, the other two are a lost cause."
He followed the lieutenant's orders immediately.
One of the refugees dropped to his knees, had it been that he understood Geortarian or it was just the tone.
"I'll do anything, please! I can carry stone, wood, anything. Take me. Let them go, please."
He gestured behind him, someone else tried to rush forward.
I shot without thinking, right at their stomach.
A woman screamed at the sight of one of their people dropping dead on the floor, blood puddled below him.
He had been another snake Hir-Soger, just like me.
The pleading man placed his hand to cover his mouth as he gasped, trying to hold back tears.
He noticed my eyes, a bright red with a black slit pupil at the center.
"Why would you do this to your own...?"
I didn't reply.
It seemed my genetics couldn't tear me away from my own.
This small detail had given me away countless times.
But the accumulated guilt had made me numb, his words didn't pierce through me like they once did.
A rifle butt slamed into his face as he fell on his back.
"Line them up," the lieutenant ordered.
"Order refused." I muttered.
I aligned my rifle into a firing position and began shooting away.
Whatever head I saw, I just shot at it without thinking.