> Oh, better far to live and die

> Under the brave black flag I fly

> Than play a sanctimonious part

> With a pirate head and a pirate heart

>

> Away to the cheating world go you

> Where pirates all are well-to-do

> But I’ll be true to the song I sing

> And live and die a Pirate King

W.S. Gilbert & Arthur Sullivan - I Am A Pirate King

----------------------------------------

“Anything on sensors?”

The pilot Xiulan checked her instruments. “Negative Cap’n. Scope’s clear.”

Remi Hadad leaned back in his chair. “And the other Alliance ships?”

“In position and showing green. We’re as ready as we’re gonna be.”

“Understood. Rig for Silent Running, full EMCON. Make us a hole in space,” he ordered.

She tapped the icons on her console as the bridge went to low light. “We’re quiet, Cap’n. No detectable emissions.”

Nodding, he turned to his gunner. “Slavko, guns up. Be ready to fire on my command.”

“Aye Cap’n,” he nodded, bringing up the targeting display.

The captain swiped the intercom’s touchscreen on his armrest. “Mairead, how long can we maintain our current posture?”

The engineer’s voice emerged from the comm panel. “I can give you four hours, no sweat,” she informed him. “After that, the engines’ll start throwing off power spikes. I’ll do my best.”

“Do better,” he snapped, before glaring at the viewscreen in obvious frustration.

Slavko cleared his throat. “Cap’n? Not gonna lie, I’m not thrilled with the Admiral’s plan. Too many ways for it to go wrong, and considering our part in all this...”

“You think I like it?” he snarled. “Orders are orders. There’s a war on, in case it somehow slipped your attention. Besides, with those damn drones running around, nowhere is safe.”

“No one’s arguing that, Cap’n,” Xuilan chimed in, playing the peacemaker, “but there’s a big difference between plain bad luck and poking the bear.”

Remi was about to respond when Isi appeared on the bridge, bearing steaming covered mugs of caffeine. “Wake-up juice,” he announced, handing one to the captain, before moving on to the others. “Thought you guys could use it.”

Giving the cup a sniff, he nodded a grudging thanks to the steward. “We secure back there?” he asked. While they were in their suits as a precaution, their faceplates remained open to save on bottled oxygen. It only took a second to close and seal a helmet, a procedure all shipborn Terrans learned and drilled on from childhood.

“Everything’s battened down tight,” the big man assured him.

“Make sure you’re strapped in,” he told him. “Things are liable to happen pretty damn quick if this goes south.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Isi agreed. “Hopefully no Crazy Ivan’s this time.”

“No promises,” Remi growled, “the fucking drones might not give us a choice.”

Shrugging, the steward retreated the way he came, while the others settled in and made themselves as comfortable as they could. There was no telling how long they’d have to sit here in the dark, waiting to spring the trap. Well, that part of the plan was actually the other ships’ responsibility, not theirs. Gyrfalcon and her crew weren't part of the reaction force.

They were the bait.

The Yīqún had been wreaking havoc all across the Perseus Arm, striking without warning individual ships and inhabited worlds. No one was safe, not even the high and mighty Troika. The newly formed Alliance was barely out of its cradle when the machines struck, an ancient terror brought to life by a madman intent on punishing the galaxy for crimes both real and imagined. They were a threat Captain Hadad and his crew knew well, even before the current crisis. All Terrans did. While the Alliance had originally formed to throw off the Troika’s oppressive stranglehold, even they took a backseat to the Terrans and their righteous fury.

All the crimes one could lay at the Troika’s feet paled compared to the holocaust unleashed by the Yīqún, the creatures responsible for the desolation of Earth.

The enemy seemed to strike at random, with no obvious strategy when choosing their targets. Over time, however, as the war dragged on, the Alliance discovered there was a discernible pattern to the Yīqún attacks, though one that made little sense. It was as if they had designed the distribution of military strikes with that thought in mind to throw off the defenders. But machines, even ones as obviously deranged as the Yīqún, simply couldn’t reproduce the chaos of an organic mind, instead falling prey to the siren’s song of recursive algorithms. They might be subtle, but the patterns were there, waiting to be exploited.

This was the first test to see if their theory was right. The rest of the squadron was under EMCON as well, waiting to ambush the enemy when… if… they showed themselves. For the plan to work, however, they needed someone to wave a red flag in front of the angry bull, focusing the drones’ attention away from the other ships. On paper, it looked solid.

It still meant putting his crew at risk, though, no matter how well thought out their tactics were. If it all went wrong, Gyrfalcon would quickly face the Yīqún’s wrath, and the odds of their surviving the encounter didn’t bear mentioning. They’d built the ship with speed and maneuverability in mind, which explained its relative paucity of offensive weapons. The other vessels were all much better armed and armored, making them the obvious choice to lie in wait while they got the drone’s attention. Oh yes, on paper, it all made perfect sense.

Funny how the ones who planned this aren’t risking their own asses, Remi thought sourly, his eyes glued to the display. Their part in this was simple; wait for the Yīqún to appear and get close, then drop the EMCON and power up engines and weapons. The drones would more than likely face off against the new threat, leaving them vulnerable to an attack from their rear. With any luck, their surprise would be total.

It still felt like shoving your dick into a meat grinder.

Taking a sip from Isi’s brown sludge, he considered his options. If the drones bored straight in when they revealed themselves, their best option would be to turn tail and run, hopefully leading them straight back to the ambushers. If, however, they stood off and opened fire… unlikely, as the Yīqún seemed to savor their violence, preferring it up close and personal… then racing away made sense there as well. Almost all the scenarios that came to mind were variations on a theme, all involving them putting as much distance as they could away from the machines, all while hopefully leading them toward the waiting wolf pack. What worried him were the situations he couldn't plan for, if the drones managed the unexpected. It was always a possibility; even now, after all these years, the Yīqún were still very much an enigma.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Cap’n… picking up something on sensors,” Xiulan reported suddenly. “It’s faint, but…”

“Is it Yīqún?” he demanded, half rising from his seat.

“Might be,” she answered, “but the signal’s awfully weak. Attempting to boost it now.” Bringing up the electronics suite, she began manipulating the data as it came in, running it through several filters while working to amplify the beacon. Under the bridge’s meager light, the sensor display illuminated her face in shades of yellow and green until her head snapped up from the console. “Confirmed,” she said tightly, “Yīqún drones inbound. Estimated time until they arrive on station… zero-five mikes.”

“At least we’re spared the wait,” Remi answered before thumbing the intercom. “Mairead, Yīqún are inbound. In five minutes, I’ll be ordering you to fire up the engines. I don’t think I need to tell you how important it is you don’t hesitate when I do.”

“Give me the word and I’ll have us haulin’ ass inside of two seconds,” she vowed.

“I’m holding you to that,” he informed her, before turning his attention to his gunner. “Slavko, ready targeting, but do not bring it fully online until I give the order. I don’t want to spook them before we trigger the ambush.”

“Copy that, Cap’n,” he agreed, his fingers poised over the console.

“Seal ‘em up,” he announced over the intercom, slamming his own faceplate shut and locking it in place, “enemy is in sight.”

The rest of the crew quickly did likewise. No one spoke as they watched the targets firm up on the display, coalescing into half a dozen individual returns. They sailed on blithely, unaware of the ships awaiting their arrival, until Remi glanced over to the pilot.

“Xiulan… drop EMCON,” he ordered. “Time to unzip our fly.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” she acknowledged, bringing the ship back up to full status.

The reaction was immediate. Within the space of a heartbeat they’d been detected, the drones instantly changing course and increasing speed as they sought the new threat. The captain punched the intercom. “Mairead? Now,” he ordered, the ship leaping to obey as the engines roared to life, burning hard as they ran for their lives.

“The drones are following!” Xuilan shouted. “They’re on an intercept course… time to weapons range, zero-three mikes.”

“Have the other ships spotted us?” he asked his gunner.

“With the noise they’re transmitting on the EM band?” Slavko said sardonically. “Oh yeah, Cap’n… they definitely know we’re comin’.”

“Good,” Remi smiled, his eyes now the slitted hoods of a predator preparing for the kill. “When they’re ten seconds out… bring up targeting.”

“Roger that,” he nodded, awaiting the order.

“Cuttin’ it kinda close there, Cap’n,” Xuilan said warily.

“There’s too much riding on this to screw it up at the last second,” he growled. “I don’t want them spooked, not until it’s too late to run.”

“Since when do the Yīqún run?” Slavko asked no one in particular.

Ignoring the remark, Remi instead scrutinized the display’s projections as it updated, showing the drone’s acceleration profiles compared to their own. The Yīqún were steadily gaining on them; without the need to support actual living beings, their craft were little more than engines and weapons tied into a computer. It gave them velocity impossible to match and was one reason the enemy had done so much damage up and down the Perseus Arm. It looked like they’d be within their allies’ defensive envelope by the time the drones caught up to them, but as Xuilan had pointed out, it was going to be close.

“Thirty seconds to weapons range,” Slavko said nervously.

“Stand by,” he ordered. “We’re only getting one shot at this.”

The gunner swallowed and nodded, his finger hovering over the firing stud. “Twenty seconds,” he reported.

“Distance to friendlies?” he queried.

“Within weapons range,” the pilot answered, working to coax more speed from the engines.

“Ten seconds!” Slavko shouted.

“Bring up targeting,” Remi grinned, “and paint the lead drone.”

An angry red reticle appeared on the Yīqún craft, flashing as it locked on. “... Time to dance,” he whispered, before snapping his head around to the gunner. “Fire!”

A brace of missiles leapt away, racing back towards the pursuing drones. “Evasive maneuvers!” he roared, as Xuilan jinked Gyrfalcon around to make her a more elusive target. The Yīqún bored straight in, all but ignoring the incoming torpedoes even as they returned fire. Deadly particle beams lanced back at them while their pilot fought to avoid them, putting the ship through a series of acrobatic gyrations that tested her skill to the limits.

The missiles detonated, and as they looked on, the crew could tell they’d gotten a piece of the drone. It staggered for a moment before shrugging off the attack, and while its speed had decreased, it was still in the fight. The tactical situation didn’t look good… but then the ships lying in wait chose that moment to open fire. Beams and missiles from all directions slammed into the drones, tearing into them as the jaws of the trap snapped shut.

Sadly, not before one of the enemy’s beams struck home.

Gyrfalcon slammed hard to port, spiraling out of control as blood-red icons flashed onto the display, highlighting damaged systems. “Starboard engine is compromised!” Mairead howled over the intercom. “I have to shut it down before it goes critical!”

Remi shot a glance toward the tactical display. Their ambush had hit the drones hard, but not hard enough. They were still being pursued, and if they killed engines now…

“Negative,” he snarled, “not until we’re clear.”

“Cap’n, without containment, that engine is nothing but a goddamned bomb!” the engineer swore at him. “We’ve got less than a minute before it detonates!”

“Then you’ll wait until the last possible second!” he roared back at her. “That’s an order!”

Xuilan and Slavko shared a nervous look while simultaneously monitoring the display. The tactical plot was still dicey, though Gyrfalcon’s status board was catching up fast. It was a coin toss which would kill them first; the Yīqún, or their own ship.

The sounds of tearing metal and venting plasma filled their ears as alarms blared and screeched their warning. The small craft shook violently, already in its death throes as they clawed their way clear of the battlefield. “Alter course!” Remi shouted, “027 by Mark 195!”

Xuilan wrestled with helm control as she brought the craft about, angling away from its original trajectory. “All tubes to rapid-fire!” he snapped, the gunner quickly sending yet another flight of missiles back at their pursuers…. as one of the enemy icons suddenly disappeared from the plot.

“It wasn’t me!” Slavko announced, even as he readied another strike. A brief glance at the display revealed the responsible party, one of the Alliance ships had gotten in a lucky shot. They immediately repeated their success as yet another drone vanished in a ball of fire, the other ships closing in to finish the rest of the Yīqún.

When a third drone exploded under the withering fire, the others decided they’d had enough. Reversing course in a tight looping turn, they sped off back the way they’d come, to fight another day.

He smashed the intercom with his fist. “Kill the engines!” he shouted, a mere half-second before roaring silence filled the cockpit.

The trio breathed heavily as they took a moment to assess their status. “Damage report,” the captain said in more conversational tones.

“Engines are offline,” Mairead informed him, after a p[ause. “We have hull containment… barely… and life support is on backups. I’d advise you to keep those suits on, just in case.”

“Noted,” he replied, taking that in. “How close were we to losing the engine?”

“... you don’t want to know,” she fired back, barely controlled anger seething in her voice. “We’re dead in the water and we need a tow, not to mention a couple weeks in spacedock before she’s space worthy again.”

“We’ll pass the word,” he informed her, finally allowing himself to relax. “Good job, all of you.”

Silence greeted his words as Remi bristled. “Is there a problem?” he demanded.

“No, Cap’n… no problem,” Slavko said quietly, busying himself at his station, while Xuilan just shook her head.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, unsnapping his harness. “Let the fleet know about our status. Until they get here, we’re on damage control.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” the pair mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

He shot them both a look, glowering, before making his way aft to check engineering.