Kain was bored as hell, the boss had run off chasing some ghost of a signal. Now he was stuck around HQ and at a loose end. What the hell were they even doing chasing a Flotilla signal anyway? They’d been gone for centuries, and all the good shit had long since been looted.

At best, somebody had maybe set off a trap from the schism. Towards the end, both sides had used the ol’ fake distress signal scam a lot, that’s most likely what it was. He grumbled and muttered to himself, over yet another game of solitaire. Once the boss got back, he’d go wreck a bar or something. What were they gonna do about it? Ban him.

Sometimes beat him why he was even still here, there wasn’t really an up in the ladder from where he was currently, and he was still being treated like a damn lackey. Surely a grunt could handle this, then he could bog off and play, better than sitting around here like a lemon waiting for nothing to happen.

Then, out of nowhere, he got another signal, a distress signal from a life-raft, specifically The Jenny’s life-raft, That meant the flagship was down.

A few years ago, Kain had rigged a decompression trap into that setup, it was tempting. So very tempting.

“KAIN,” a familiar voice snarled over comms. “Get me out of here, and DO NOT LET THAT SHIP GET AWAY. IT’S AN ACTIVE DREADNOUGHT.”

Now, when faced with all that potential profit, a promotion opportunity, and a way to get rid of Zane, Kain found himself able, one little button later, and he stepped out, policing his expression to look suitably devastated.

“THE BOSS IS DEAD,” he wailed. Ignoring the shocked whispering around him, not like they knew what he did. “There’s a dreadnought out there, and they took down Zane, now let’s hunt them down, make them pay, and take the ship for our own.”

Nobody, when confronted with a sudden change of management, and a potential profit, was daft enough to question the reforms too soon. They knew Kain was a traitorous little bastard, and if he was responsible, then he would get his soon enough. The old guys would just need to find the evidence. In the meantime, they had money to make. Maybe they could loot some good stuff this time. A few of the crew scrabbled out to get to the pursuit ships.

Meanwhile, deep in the depths of the base, ancient machinery long neglected, but still operational enough to be serviceable started up. Carefully transferring a fading signal to a new host chip. In the background, several large chambers, full of green fluid, started to bubble and churn. The data chip was carefully stored away by an old armature, while the process was ongoing.

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Today was not shaping up to be one of my better days, kidnapped, strapped to a table, and accidentally blew up the head of the sector's cartel. Now we were being chased (well duh, major criminal organisations don’t like it when you atomise their employer, it’s bad for business.)

“Nara, how’s our escape looking, I’d really like to not end up slagged.”

“They’re still following us, not sure how to shake them.”

“Well, surely the ship has some evasion patterns logged, we could try using those,” Jenel suggested.

“Well, you heard the lady Reliance, evasive maneuvers.”

“Understood, captain, engaging pattern D3.”

That didn’t seem to work out though, as a few seconds later we were shaken by a hit.

“Well, in all fairness, our patterns are a tad dated.”

“You got another big shot in those power banks of yours?”

“Negative, captain, the initial shot was more a happy accident than an intentional action. All we have left is regular anti meteorite measures. They won’t get through shields.”

“Nara, did you vent the nacelles yet?”

“Yes I did, why?”

Jenel knew what I was thinking, and probably wished she didn’t.

“Reliance, I need you to find a damaged power cell we can make leak, Jenel you know what to do.”

Back in the day, back in the scrapyards on world, we used to occasionally nick components to play around with. Fun fact, if you mix a leaking power core (match) and nacelle waste (powder keg) you get what we used when we couldn’t afford fireworks. That was with the waste from itty bitty private pleasure ships, you know? The kinds the snobs keep for a couple of years, then abandon for a newer model.

Now that knowledge was finally going to pay off, providing we survived what was undoubtedly a very bad idea. Well, so was sticking around till The Cartel caught us. This would probably cause enough of a chain reaction to slow them down, while masking our trail. We hoped.

If I was going to die anyway, then I sure as hell wasn’t doing it in silence. I started to flip through my playlists, looking for something fitting. Star Wars theme? Pass.

“Captain, I’ve located the cells, we have three, I am directing Jenel there now.”

“Understood.”

“GOT EM.” Jenel yelled, “heading down to the airlock now.”

“Understood, and I can’t believe this, all that time making it work, and this is probably going to frag it up big time.”

“Would you rather get reduced to your component atoms floating in space for eternity, or just rig a new airlock?”

“Given how long it took me to rig that bloody thing? Is there an option c? If not, then I may need to think on it.”

“Bit late there, “Captain” ejecting now.”

“Goddammit, OK Nara, vent everything we got left in the exhausts, we want a big ass cloud behind us, Reliance, once we’re a bit ahead, line up a shot on those cells and open fire.”

“Understood Captain.”

Finally, found an option on the playlist that seemed fitting,

“If you want to gamble, I tell you I’m your man, you win some, lose some, it’s all the same to me.” Motorhead bellowed in my head, for a gamble like this it seemed fitting.

The Reliance opened fire as our pursuers entered the cloud, and the view-screen went white.