Manny stared at his screen then sighed. It was always the same. He doesn’t understand why he keeps on doing it.

“You’ll get there. We don’t need it at the moment. We’re doing just fine.” Malia said, looking over when she heard the despondent man. She got up from her chair and started massaging his shoulders. She felt bad that the man was taking so many burdens upon himself. It’s also why he has such a loyal following. ArmCore probably has the lowest turnover rate among mercenaries and that’s saying something. When you have a life expectancy of fewer than five years, it pays to get out of the business early.

“I know. It’s just that it would bring us more respect if we have an office here. Everybody who is anybody has an office downtown. I get that we don’t need it but it doesn’t stop me from wanting one.” Manny replied. All successful mercenary outfits have a permanent office in an established world. Merkatuan is a popular world to setup shop since it’s a trade world. Royal Eagle, PKL Armaments, the Pan Galactic Arms Corp., all of the biggest companies has a business address you can visit and gawk at. Granted, you don’t NEED to have one but it’s a matter of presentation. People expect a respectable merc company to have an office where they could walk in and do business. Nobody wants to acknowledge that most, if not all, of the business transactions happen via UniNet while the merc representative is floating around in a spaceship somewhere.

Manny wants to open a small office to increase his social stocks. There are some clients in his business that solely checks outfits that have a physical office. Manny wants a slice of that extravagant pie. These clients are normally nobles or corporate moguls.

“Let’s just keep doing what we’re doing and will get there. Eventually. Enough of that, it’s nearly time for our date with the colonel. He’s pretty excited about his new toy.” Malia smiled as she reminded Manny of his mech shopping trip.

“I bet he is. That man has been frustrated that he had to stay back and let our people do the fighting. He’s just not fit enough to go pounding ground with the rest of the troopers.

I’m still not convinced that he should be piloting our new mech but dammit, he’s even more qualified than I am to go tromping around inside one.” Colonel Okonjo was a former MSOG pilot. He was used to handling the best of the best of what the universe has to offer in combat mechs. A Minotaur, the model that we have eventually decided to buy during our regular meeting, is a piece of cake for the experienced military man. He could probably pilot it asleep.

“Pot calling a kettle black.” Is all what Malia said. She handed Manny his cap and crossed the room to check herself out in a mirror. She was wearing some kind of suit that Manny though looks like a cross between a casual and formal one. She was also wearing one of her calf-killing six-inch stiletto shoes. Manny can’t understand why she insists on wearing one of those things.

“Let’s go get the colonel and buy us a new mech. I have to say, I’m excited too.” Manny honestly admitted. It would be great to finally be able to take missions without having to worry that he was the only mech unit in the field.

Manny and Malia stepped out of their rented office space. They planned to stay for a couple of weeks in Merkatuan to catch up with paperwork and to give the troops enough time to let off stress. They’ve been at it for two years, one contract after another with only a week to ten days of rest between missions. They’re now in a financial position that they could afford to take an extended vacation.

Manny squinted as he fumbled for his glasses. It was bright and sunny outside. It was early yet in the day that the heat wasn’t stinging his skin yet. Merkatuan is a desert world initially slated for further development. Plans for complete terraforming fell through when the funds for the colonizing company dried up. A civil war broke out in Njord, forcing the company to take their business elsewhere, defaulting on their properties in the world.

The colonizers had to restructure their plans and decided that they would minimally develop the world. It was within the scope of their funding and equipment so Merkatuan turned out to be like western Asia of Earth. Dry, hot, and unforgiving but very much habitable. They had to limit the development of the world so there were no other cities other than Merkatuan, so named after the world itself.

The colonizers did well in making do with what they had. The turned the desert world into a galactic trading hub, with people coming far and wide to peruse the wares available for sale on its free-trade markets. The local government has developed some areas around the planet for mining and built some biodomes to grow food.

The local military force is also an odd one. They are very reminiscent of the foreign legions. Anybody can presumably walk into a recruitment office and leave their old life behind. As long as you are not wanted by any government during the time of your joining, you will be accepted. Assuming, of course, that you pass the medical exam. The Merkatuan Defense Force puts more importance on a person’s mental strength, rather than their overall fitness. They believe that fitness could be achieved through their harsh, almost barbaric training regime but the mental aspect of their work is what they cannot prepare the initiate for. The MDF is one of the fiercest and most loyal military forces in the thousand worlds’ alliance. They are not as large as homeworld guards but they are damn hard to take down. Retired or resigned officers of the MDF have no problems looking for good paying work, if they so choose.

Malia was already walking down the sidewalk purposefully that Manny had to hurry to catch up. He could not understand how she could walk so fast in those heels. The skyscrapers were partially blocking the sun so it was not uncomfortable to be out and about.

“What are planning to do while the colonel and I are out looking for a mech?” Manny asked when he drew beside his assistant.

“I’ll be looking for some new shoes later but I have to visit a couple of people that messaged me. We’re getting popular. I might finagle a good, easy contract for us to do while we’re here.”

“Just to remind you but the Benevolent is dry docked for a refit. That huge spinal cannon is a bitch to install. They’re already halfway done installing the main turrets and would be done in a couple of days. Say, two to three more days to calibrate the turrets to make sure they work right so we’re looking at the Benevolent being out of commission for twelve days.”

It’s one of the three things that company was preparing for ever since they got the ship. They always had to be careful when traveling among the stars because they were essentially an unarmed, though heavily-shielded, transport ship. The captain argued that they have been lucky and they can’t always count on their contracts always providing escort. They’ve stuck to using the commercial space lanes but that also locked them out of lucrative contracts. The Benevolent did have point-defense guns but being defensive doesn’t win fights.

The Benevolent was being installed with a spine-mounted dark matter cannon. The merchant hull of the ship had been reinforced earlier on when they first modified it for merc transport. The cannon will run through the entire length of the ship with only the firing barrel being retractable. Being that it is a spine-mounted weapon, the main gun can only be fired when the ship’s bow is facing the enemy. That would take some clever maneuvering from its commander but Captain Adelina Iliev is confident she could make use of the powerful weapon. It’s not a popular design feature for a main gun. It only has a ten-degree firing arc and it doesn’t have guidance control since it’s a dark energy weapon not to mention its very slow firing cycle. It has a dedicated dark matter generator that needs about ten seconds to fully charge up. That is a lot of time to wait when you are in a fight. The captain said that it is better used to open or end an engagement. The other guy would be pretty skittish in getting in a protracted fight if he doesn’t have shields or is heavily damaged. It makes up for its limitations by being one hell of a destructive weapon. It doesn’t matter if your ship is shielded like a planetary defense platform. If you get hit, it’ll smash through your shield matrix. It would only take two or three well-placed shots to bring down a battle cruiser.

The ship was also being installed with four quad-barrel heavy turrets and two missile racks that will act as the ship’s primary fighting weapons. The turrets were cheap as it was sold to them by Royal Eagle when one of their destroyers was heavily damaged after one of their operations. They decided that it was too heavily damaged to repair and would cost them less to just buy a new one. They stripped all the salvageable parts and sold those they didn’t need. ArmCore was one of the few companies they called first before putting up parts up for sale. Manny was thankful that his cultivation of friendship with the mercenary juggernaut has borne fruit.

The missile racks were the only thing they bought straight from a respected vendor. It was a late addition to their armament plan which was again suggested by the captain. The modifications made on the former freighter were pushed as much as it could possibly go without degrading structural integrity. The missile racks were not planned for like the turrets. The captain convinced Manny that rather than having internal launch tubes, they would attach the racks on retractable hardpoints. They could house it within the ship and deploy them when necessary. It would be reloaded through an ammunition elevator and automatically fed by using a simple loading lever. It’s a somewhat inelegant solution but it would give the ship a longer maximum range not to mention a kinetic weapon that can be deployed in case of power outage.

The entire cost of arming the ship and supplying it with the necessary computer upgrades and training modules totaled to almost everything they earned from contracts last year. Manny paid for the refitting as soon as he can before he changed his mind. He knows that it was a worthwhile investment but the money he paid for it represented the busiest year they had.

At least Captain Iliev is as happy as a plum. She hated the fact that we had to be escorted everywhere. She’s now hedging for our own fighter wing. She’s been talking about converting one of the cavernous storage bays into a fighter hanger for at least twelve X42-Kodana multi-purpose fighter craft. That will definitely be in the future. Manny doubted that when all the shopping is over, they would have anything left to buy even one fighter craft without dipping in their operational budget for the next year. Bad practice, that.

“I remember. I’m that one that had to talk to the dry dock master. By the way, why do they call it a dry dock? It’s not like we’re sailing on water anymore.” Malia asked. Manny was startled by the question and not a little bit surprised now that he was thinking about it.

“I think that's a leftover from before space travel became common. It does the same thing as what its beached originator has done sans the water. Maybe they got lazy and didn’t want to call it something else.” Manny shrugged as they continue walking down the sidewalk. There were a lot of people moving up and down the sidewalk, a constant wave of humanity about their business. It was a work day.

“It doesn’t take much imagination to call it a space dock, you know. There’s the colonel. Let’s hurry up before he makes a child cry.” Malia indicated towards a bench in front of a liquor store. The tall military man was sitting on the bench, chewing on something while glowering at the mass of people passing in front of him. Quite a few people shied away from him and elected to give him as much space as he needs. His scarred, weather-aged face along with his constant scowl doesn’t inspire conversation.

“I told you to stop saying that. He’s a nice enough fellow. He’s a little intimidating, I give you that but he has always been very careful about the people around him.” Manny said, mildly reproaching his assistant. 

“‘a little intimidating?’ sure, he’s a ‘little’ intimidating as much as an elephant is a ‘little’ large. If looks could kill, that man would have committed genocide." Malia replied, undeterred.

"He's a loyal and integral member of our company. His looks don't make him less than an asset."

"So you do agree that he's one scary man. Ha! made you admit." Malia said with a triumphant look on her face. Manny didn't deign to reply to her outburst and just continued walking. The colonel has spotted them when a break in the crowd gave him sightline. He took a big bite of something then crumpled the wrapper in his hand. He tossed it in the recycling bin beside him as he watched Manny and Malia free themselves from the humanity on the sidewalk.

"Sir. Malia." Colonel Okonjo greeted. He nodded to both of them with his usual unflappable self.

"Colonel. Is everything in order?" Manny asked, his face changing into his public mask. Though they work closely together and Manny would consider the colonel as one of the few people he would have in his inner circle, it was hard for him the break his programming in dealing with military officers after his stint in the army. It doesn't matter that the colonel is retired and has been for quite some time. He still exudes authority and an almost overpowering presence.

The colonel also seems to be content with their association. He refuses to address Manny with anything less that respect he would give to a superior officer. He explained that it was to establish discipline in the troops. They cannot see him being chums with their boss, even if they were a mercenary force. He has a deep respect for his unusual employer and never would have guessed that he would find the authority he was looking for outside of Martian military. The pay is way better too.

"The few that are on duty have reported nothing unusual while I have a couple of people looking after those who are on leave. Predictably, our people are busy getting drunk, laid, and poor. I assure you that no establishment would be damaged this time."

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The men and women of ArmCore Securities are some of the toughest infantry in the mercenary world. It was all due to the colonel. He has brought with him his training as a Martian Special Operations Group operative and made our people go through his special blend of training. They had a lot of prospective hires quit the outfit due to its demanding training that Manny had talked about it with the colonel. The former MSOG asked for patience and the time to build up the company's numbers. Manny gave in to his request for additional time and funding and the colonel didn't disappoint. He was able to produce some of the finest people Manny had worked with. Of course, the colonel was never satisfied with their performance and always had some kind of training program running.

All that special training also made his people some of the hardest partiers. Manny could count the times that he had to bail out his people from jail or had to pay for damages to an establishment due to a fight or just general rowdiness. He doesn't really mind though he keeps that to himself. The colonel is not shy in tearing somebody a new asshole when they fuck up.

"Very good, colonel. The company is always grateful for your dedication to excellence. It is time for us to increase our operational ability. Are you ready to evaluate our new hardware?" The colonel grinned savagely.

"Yes, sir. I'm am looking forward to this." Manny turned to Malia, giving her an inquiring look.

"I'll go with you guys partway. My meeting is on the other side of the city." She explained. Malia was going over some documents on her tablet and was also patting down some creases on her suit.

Manny called for a car and it didn't take long before a rental stopped by the curb, in front of them. They piled inside then the car whisked them through the busy streets of Merkatuan. Malia was totally focused on her tablet while Manny and the colonel discussed their recent purchases for the company. They went over their timeline, checking what are to be purchased for their next update cycle. Majority of their planned upgrades are going to focus on the ground pounders. Their combat armor is sufficient for the tasks they take but the colonel wanted to get a number of powered exo-armor. Those suits would allow a trooper to effectively carry and deploy crew weapons with ease. The thicker armor will also stop most modern small arms. A few load out options for their two fighters and one more Shiva tank are slated for the next year. Manny has to ensure that they have a constant flow of contracts if he has to have any hope of fulfilling their inventory demands.

***

The Minotaur ran almost at top speed before it suddenly stopped, Its mechanical feet digging deeply in the soil. It then broke left, skipping sideways, avoiding the markers planted on the ground.

Manny and the two sales representatives watch as the colonel put the Minotaur in its paces. So far, the mech was performing exceptionally well, getting good marks in both mobility and dexterity.

Manny had talked with the sales representative a couple of days ago to set up the field test. They were ecstatic with his interest in purchasing the mech and had readily agreed to it. It made Manny a bit uncomfortable and not a little bit suspicious about how quickly they agreed to a product review. Normally, it would take a week or so to set one up and a few more people should have accompanied them during the test. They would normally have a mech engineer to answer anything related to the inner workings of the machine and a merc pilot to talk to them about the possible arming of the unit.

Manny and Malia did some digging and found out that Burke & Wellington, the company they were buying the mech from, had acquired the mech from a merc company that went broke. They tried selling it but the bigger mercenary outfits in Merkatuan were interested in buying mech units in bulk. Cheaper that way. There were a few inquiries from smaller companies like ArmCore but they didn't have the credits for it. Sadly, most of these smaller merc outfits are run by younger men and women with fire in their blood and are interested in firepower, not spreadsheets. Manny's persistence in following a well thought out economic plan made him different from his peers.

"Your pilot is very good. I've never seen somebody handle a Minotaur like that and I've seen a lot." One of the sales representatives commented. They were watching the colonel from a viewing platform a few hundred meters from the fast-moving combat mech.

"ArmCore provides exceptional training to its people and is proud of the expertise they are able to put on the field." Manny replied. Both representatives nodded as they watch the colonel tested the mech's strength by pulling and pushing derelict construction vehicles scattered around the field for the very thing.

"I assume that he had military training?" The shorter representative asked.

"Pardon me but I cannot comment on the specifics of our employee's background." Manny said. There are a lot of merc companies that flaunt their military background but Manny found it to their advantage not to publish theirs. He posted some of their most difficult missions on their UniNet site with accompanying pictures and mission profiles. It prevents prospective clients from offering them unreasonable mission contracts or disregarding them out of their former military affiliation.

"Ah. I understand. How silly of me to ask." The representative answered back with an embarrassed smile. His partner was giving him a dirty look. It was kind of a faux pas to ask about somebody's background in the merc world. If you are really interested, a lot of a person's information could be gleaned from the UniNet. A lot of people become mercenaries because they wanted to leave their past. You generally only ask when it is critical to the mission at hand.

The trio ignored the social slip and focused on the well-performing mech. Manny asked a few questions that the representatives readily answered. They stopped their conversation when the colonel had communicated that he was done with the testing.

The Minotaur walked towards the platform at a more sedate pace then deactivated. A mech crew spilled out of the hanger just underneath the viewing platform to secure the mech. The pilot carriage opened up and the colonel climbed down using the handholds on the back and legs of the Minotaur. He was sweating but Manny could see the man's white teeth from his smile.

Manny and the representatives took the elevator down to meet with the colonel to get his verdict. Manny is the one paying but he would go by the colonel's decision. His company commander knows his fighting machines well. Probably better than Manny.

"The mech is in good condition. Very good condition. In fact, I would like to ask how have you come to own a barely-used Minotaur? I doubt that this unit has seen real combat. For god's sakes, it still has the warning stickers on its pilot board."

"The former owners of the unit didn't plan their acquisition well. They bought the unit brand new from the manufacturer but it left them in debt. They were confident that they would get a lucrative contract and, well, let's just say that they have overestimated their value."

"Well, I'm not complaining. Sir, I believe we have a deal here. The unit needs to have its dark matter power plant rebalanced, it's throwing out too much energy, causing it to pump out a bigger signal profile but its mechanically sound. Once we get its accompanying palmer rifle, I'd say we're good to go." The colonel said with confidence. The representatives were smiling along while he was making his assessment then was suddenly confused by the last part of his speech.

"Um, excuse me Mr. Okonjo. The unit is sold as is. We do have an upgrade option if you want to purchase it along with its weaponry." The taller representative explained. The colonel smiled an ugly smile.

"Ah, my friends. It seems like we have a lot to talk about." The colonel said in a sing-song manner. Manny almost felt bad for the reps. The colonel is an amazing negotiator. He had to personally negotiate for equipping his people when he was still in the Martian army. Corruption forced him to haggle for everything since his funds were always missing a few zeros.

Manny could practically imagine that the 'Martian Shark' hunting for a bite as they walked towards a meeting room.

***

Dominic stared at his console, willing it to give him a different result. A few breaths later, a red light blinked on. Dominic cursed loudly then stabbed at the 'cut connection' command to stop the power feed. He wanted to pull his hair out but that wouldn't do anything. Just make him bald. He sat back then closed his eyes to massage his temples. He felt a headache building up and wanted to just get up and get some rest but he can't. Not until they fix this. He opened a communication with Engineering.

"Jie, still nothing." He could hear the man cursing in Mandarin on the other end.

"Still just that one red light?"

"Yeah."

"Godammit. Alright, give me a second. Suzy wants to try something." The assistant engineer cut the connection. Dominic, grateful for the reprieve in working on the faulty power connection, split his screen to check the power draw of the other turrets. The dock workers did a good enough job installing them but they haven't configured the turrets with the proper energy distributor. It was trying to draw more energy that what the ship was feeding it. The programming of the turret computer was set for a bigger and more powerful warship that the Benevolent was not. They had fixed the programming side of the issue but the physical end of it was still giving Dominic a literal headache. Jie suspects that the sudden power draw is generating too much heat and was tripping the failsafe of the turret. Dominic has no idea how they're going to fix that. The other three had some hiccups but were working perfectly now. It was just the forward starboard turret that was being difficult. They have to get this fixed today because they'll be having their shakedown cruise tomorrow. They also had clearance to do some live fire exercises on a nearby debris field to calibrate their targeting systems. They can't do that if they can't get this problem licked.

Dominic loaded a simulation of the turrets. He had them fire on a simulated target, keeping an eye on the rate of fire, timing, and power draw. He spent the next hour adjusting the parameters to the captain's preference then loaded the simulation again. It took some fiddling around the get it right but he was able to get the exact specifications that the captain outlined. He saved the settings then forwarded the report to the XO.

Dominic's console beeped again so he opened his communicator to Jie. He'd been calling back once in a while, trying different methods to get the problematic turret to work. They were still unsuccessful in that regard.

"Try it now." Jie said.

"Alright. I'm getting tired on this thing." Dominic complained.

"Hey! you're not to the one who had to crawl through a duct, okay." Jie replied with a little bit of heat his voice.

"You right, calm down, geez. Okay, activating turret." Dominic watched the console, almost resigned to having to stay on his workstation the entire day but then a green light appeared on his console. Crossing his fingers, Dominic switched on the turret's capacitor banks. Again, the light stayed green. He grinned then did a little arm pump in celebration.

"Jie, It's working! Finally! Whatever you did, it got the turret working on the right power load." Dominic informed the aggravated assistant engineer.

"You can thank Suzy for that. You owe her dinner. She's the one that came up with a solution."

"We just had dinner together the other day! Man, she always orders the expensive stuff. It's not like I'm made out of credits, you know."

"I heard you. You're talking me to Pierre's just for that." Suzy's contralto voice broke in the channel. Dominic grimaced but decided that silence is what is called for the moment.

"Now that's fixed, I'm going for a drink. I've been at it for twelve hours. Don't call me." Jie's tired voice informed Dominic.

"Get me a bottle of whiskey, will you? I'm stuck here until the calibrations are done."

"will do."

Dominic cut the communication and took the opportunity to stretch. His new station doesn't come with a very comfortable seat. The tactical console has just been installed a couple of days ago and he was still trying to get a familiar feel around it. He did have his hot keys set up so there's that.

"Hey Farah, You got any plans later?" Dominic asked the woman working on the other side of the bridge.

"Nope. Why?"

"We're catching a game later. The Merkatuan Sand Surfers will be taking on the Holmer Jacks. You wanna come?"

"Sure, why not. I've not seen a rugby game for a while. That should be fun." Farah replied, still messing around in her workstation.

"Yeah. Those Sand Surfers are going to get theirs. I don't think-"

Dominic never got to finish his prediction when he was suddenly thrown off his feet. It took a couple of moments before his world stop spinning and he could make sense that he was on his back. Dominic tried sitting up but a sudden blinding pain shot up his left arm. He looked over to see his forearm jutting at an unnatural angle. Dominic looked away before he makes himself throw up.

"-minic! Dominic! I need you!" Farah's voice finally pierced his thoughts and made him focus on his surroundings. He could see the communications specialist strap herself in her seat. She was looking at Dominic with wild eyes.

"What the hell happened?" Dominic yelled as he gingerly picked himself up off the deck. He tried to keep his left arm from getting jostled as he sat on his station.

"I dunno! The dock beside us just exploded. Jesus, look at that, that freighter just broke in half. Was that an accident? I don't remem-"

Another explosion rocked the ship, this time weaker that the one that threw Dominic to the deck. A dry dock doesn't explode like that. Yes, there are some chemicals that could cause an explosion but nothing to that magnitude. He looked at the forward viewing screen and could see the second explosion carved a big chunk out of the navy station. A feeling of dread momentarily made Dominic forget about the pain in his arm as his right hand worked his console. He triggered the sensor array then waited as his board was populated. His face turned white as he tried to contemplate the impossibility of what he was seeing.

"Report!"

The XO bust through the bridge hatch, panting heavily. He was working in the CIC when the ship bucked. He immediately made for the bridge as soon as he was on his feet.

"Multiple unknown contacts coming around from behind Nótt. They're too far out for the computer to resolve how many they are." Dominic answered, his attention snapping back into focus.

The XO sat heavily on the captain's chair and buckled himself in. Good thing too because the navy station took another hit, destroying its upper decks. This time, the Benevolent's sensors got something.

"Some kind of missile hit the station. The computer doesn't know what it is but it's slow and packs an insane amount of energy. Initial data coming it suggests that it's a variation of a fusion bomb." Dominic added.

"We have to get out of here. Ms. Lamont, get drydock on the line and have us released." The klaxons started blaring throughout the ship as the XO had put the ship on general quarters. He then unbuckled himself then took a couple of large steps and sat on the helm station. He started feeding the thrusters with power but it was sluggish. He cursed then opened a channel to Engineering.

"Engineering." The XO could hear banging and running feet on the line. He was expecting Mr. Suarez, the chief engineer but somebody else answered.

"We need power, now!"

"We're activating the power nodes now, sir." came the harried reply.

"Sir, I can't get through dry dock control. I think the last hit took out their communications." Farah reported. She was about to turn back when she got a new communication.

"Just a moment, sir. Navy just signaled to clear the area. They're engaging the hostiles."

"On screen." The XO ordered.

The forward viewing screen switched from the station towards the approaching unknown ships. A number of navy ships were able to get themselves sorted in a surprisingly short amount of time and were meeting the aggressors. He couldn't see all of the attacking ships but they were more than enough to overwhelm the sad numbers of navy patrol boats and the few frigates and destroyers that survived the onslaught on the station. The navy ships were rallying around a battleship that was being escorted by two missile cruisers. They were still outside engagement range of the navy but it wouldn't take long.

The XO ripped his eyes from watching the imminent battle to check his console. They finally had minimum power but they were still locked in dry dock. At that moment, the bridge hatch slid open as two more people came charging in. One was the helmsman and the other was a trooper in combat armor. The XO got up from the station he was manning and retook the captain's chair. The sweating helmsman slid in his chair and his fingers flew over his control keys.

"Secure the bridge." The XO ordered the trooper. The man acknowledged then hit the locking mechanism of the hatch. It would take some doing to get through that now.

"Helm, get us out of here."

"Sir, we're still locked in." The man informed but he was already feeding power to the thrusters.

"I know. Break us out. Tactical, how's our weapons?" The man shifted his attention towards the pained officer.

"The turrets are all operational. The main cannon and the missile launchers have passed initial inspection but sir, we've yet to try any live fire. Our targeting software also hasn't been calibrated yet. We were supposed to do that tomorrow."

"That is not an option for the moment. Just get it working." The ship heaved as the pilot powered the Benevolent, tearing off the station clamps.

"Shields up." The XO promptly ordered.

"Shields, aye."

"Heading, sir?" The helm asked when the ship was at a respectable distance from the dry dock.

"Over Merkatuan city. Our people are still down there. Let's get them back."

It was only then that Dominic remembered that they were on skeleton crew. Most of the company were still down in Merkatuan, partying it up. Dominic looked at his screen and could see that the battle has started and it was not going well for the system defense force. The hostiles were using some type of x-ray energy weapon that was making short work of the Merkatuan ships. They were also saturating the ships with kinetic rounds. From what the computer has analyzed, they were dumb rounds. They were probably shot from a rail gun. Aside from the fusion missiles, they haven't used any other kind in the engagement, which is unusual.

Dominic stared at the data coming in and guessed that it would be a short fight. He prayed that it would give them enough time to get their people off the planet.