Hannibal sat on the shore, watching the waves tug gently at the beach. If he peered just so, he could see the sails of a leisure yacht or two peek over the horizon.
Closer to shore, his children played, splashing and laughing in the water. It had been a holiday for them, he was back from campaign, their mother had taken a leave of absence from the Assembly, and the children were not occupied by school.
He stretched out and lied down, enjoying the feeling of warmth that radiated over him from the sun and the sand.
“Sir?”
With a buzz, the holo-emitters flicked off, one after another, replacing the sun with a sterile fluorescent glow and the sand with the hard metal floor.
Jinn stood over him, her lanky frame framed against the harsh metallic light.
“It’s ‘comrade,’ Jinn. I’m no gentleman,” he grumbled a bit, rubbing his eyes. She ignored him.
“We’re coming into orbit around Europa. You’re needed on the bridge.” Her tone was flat, authoritative, a mirror of her features. She wore the military dress of the Collective smartly, all red hues along sharp, creased lines of black linen. One could almost mistake her as a born and bred officer. The shaved sides of her head and her tight, braided cornrows were all that remained of her history as a pirate. Well. That and her penchant for viciously marauding along the corp trade lanes.
“Anything on the sensors yet?”
She grinned, a hint of malevolence at the corners of her mouth, “A corp trade-galleon sir. Loaded with tonnage. Hit a spot of luck, sir.”
He nodded. Likely they were freighting raw ore back from the outer belts, more sweat and blood pried out from the asteroids by the indentured laborers the corps were so fond of employing. The galleons themselves were likely crewed by private captains, insured against theft and piracy by the corps. Some were honest men and women, trying to make a buck or two out in the rim. However, they all turned a blind eye to the excesses of whichever corp signed their paychecks.
“Mm. Well. Time to be wicked.”
Like the rest of his vessel, the bridge of the Tanit was an exercise in efficient beauty. Curved, organic lines, gleaming steel, and banks of flashing terminals. The duty crew sat at their stations, each monitoring some key function of the cruiser. Hannibal knew each of his crew by name, but the bridge crew were sometimes difficult to pick apart. Their shaved heads, the gleam of the I/O nodes at the base of their neck, and the uncanny blue glow of their eyes marked them with a certain ubiquity.
“Comrade Captain on the deck,” Jinn announced as they stepped through the bulkhead door. The crew made no visible sign of respect, nor any motion save for the careful attenuations and flicks of dextrous mechanofingers. Jinn sighed, perhaps wondering why she even bothered.
Hannibal took up his position in front of the main holoprojector in the center of the room, and Jinn followed suit, standing on the left side of the “box” of holos that formed their tactical grid. At present, it showed the Tanit, making its way slowly around the curve of Europa. In the distance, the freighter could be made out. With a flick of her hand, Jinn focused the view upon their opposition. An odd ship, frigate-sized, but pushing a load meant for a heavy-freighter.
“Military surplus,” Jinn cooed, her mouth a tight line. “Could still have its fangs.”
“Mm. Perhaps.” Hannibal was thinking. Something wasn’t quite right. A false assumption may have been made somewhere. Why would a private captain push such an over-sized tonnage? The risk was enormous. Desperation? Greed? Difficult to tell. In the back of his mind, another possibility scratched.
He watched the ship arc slowly around the gas giant. Where was it headed? To a collection point? But those were typically on the fringe of the sector. No… they were headed inwards. Towards the small red dwarf that smoldered at the heart of this system.
“Bring us in over them, and let loose a cutter-volley. Make them drop their tonnage,” he ordered.
“...That’ll rip up some of the cargo,” Jinn quirked an eyebrow, “And if they lose tonnage, they can try and get away. Run us out to the black until they call in an escort.”
“If they run towards the black, Jinn.” She raised her eyebrows, and Hannibal smiled. “If they run towards the black.”
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The Eschaton leaped and screamed as the cutter-volley of mass-driver projectiles smashed through the moorings locking it’s cargo into place at the bow of the ship, sending it tumbling outward into space.
“No, no.” I hissed, scrambling to my feet and feeling desperately for the wall. “Don’t run to the star.” I nearly tripped over a groaning pile of limbs.
“Valle, Valle?” I pulled at the pile, hoping to extract my aide. “We need to get to the bridge, I have to tell the captain-”
Another volley rocketed the ship, and we tumbled together out the door and into the hall. Someone grabbed me, roughly by the collar, and hauled me up to my feet. Mizka shouted, “Bridge, right? Let’s go. Grab an arm, Slevin!” Someone else grabbed me by the other arm, and they both lifted, carrying me down the hallway as the ship shook and spun.
“If we make it to a jump-point, can you get us out of here!?” Mizka screamed as we ran.
“No! It’s impossible! I don’t know where we are! I’ve got no course, no calculations. We need to run for the black! Call in another corp vessel!”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
There was a shearing tear, and the Eschaton screamed down at us.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Mizka dismissed, their tone clipped. “Reinforcements aren’t an option for us. If we make it to a jump point, can you at least try!?”
“If I had coordinates, and if I knew where I was, I still wouldn’t, because our drive is a-” I stopped. Horrible realization dawning on me.
“...It’s a shutter drive!” Slevin positively cried with joy.
“No. I-.” I remembered Hamad. “Theoretically possible.”
“Good enough!” came Mizka’s reply, as they tossed me down into the crow’s nest.
My head banged against the railing, but there was no time to even register the pain. I tore with my fingers at the gauze, praying the shutters were open.
Mizka’s voice crackled in the speaker. They sounded calmer now. In control. They spoke slowly, authoritatively.
“The captain’s dead, Harper. Do you understand what we’re going to try and do? Short hops. Turn and shoot. Rinse, repeat.”
I gritted my teeth. “Yeah. I got it.”
“No count this time. We’re going to be in-and-out. Slevin’s going to keep it pulsing as long as she can. You ready?”
I gripped the control rail, my knuckles white. “Ready.”
The entire ship seemed to flip on itself. A ghost of nothing, as it slid like a knife into the aether. I opened my eyes to a blinding white, but then I saw it. The spark I’d noticed in the corner of my eye.
I grinned. “Got you.”
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Hannibal stood, arms folded, watching the holo screen.
“They’re not running for the black. They’re running for the center of the system. Why would they, unless-” Jinn’s eyes widened as the realization dawned.
“They have a Navigator,” she muttered.
“Indeed.” Hannibal answered, matter-of-factly.
“We can disable them. Take out their local drives, leave them drifting.” Jinn suggested.
“A reasonable plan.” Hannibal noted.
And then the ship vanished from the holo-screen.
Jinn’s eyes narrowed as she barked for an update, “Sensors!? Find me that ship!”
Hannibal tersely clipped over her, “Belay that. Armor up. Seal bulkheads.”
There was a flash, and the small hologram of the corp vessel re-appeared on the screen, this time, directly aft of the Tanit. A rip of mass drivers shuddered out towards them, ripping into the Tanit’s hull.
The ship shook, but held. “Armor is holding, Comrade Captain.”
Hannibal’s voice was ice. “Very good. Full stop, go to drift. Full power to armor relays.”
“...We’re not firing back?” Jinn asked.
“Can’t hit what you can’t see, Jinn.”
His eyes locked to the holoscreen. The ship blipped out. A moment later, it was back, this time on their port-side. Another volley. Another blip. The Tanit shook and blared, a shrill scream of metal on metal, but the armor held, most of the mass drivers deflecting harmlessly off into the abyss of space.
Three more times the ship blipped across the screen. Three more times it fired, until, finally, it stilled. Hannibal and Jinn stared at it, not daring to blink.
“Status?” asked Hannibal calmly.
“Breaches on decks 3 and 4, but bulkheads are holding steady. 36 injuries, no fatalities. Corp ship is… no energy signature from their engines. They’re dead in the water.” Jinn read out diligently, an icy tinge of panic draining from her voice.
“Very good. Hail them.”
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It had gotten a bit easier as it went along. The first time we punched out of the aether, my stomach flipped and my eyes screamed at the light. But, I shut my eyes, tight tight tight, and waited for the drive to punch us back in.
There was a thundering boom as our mass drivers slung towards the Collective vessel. Mizka’s voice was ecstatic in my ear. “Nailed ‘em! Clean across the bow! This just might work! Okay, we’re going back in.”
Each time we punched our way out, the panic in Mizka’s voice rose. “Deflection, deflection! What the fuck do they make their ships out of!? Hold on, hold on, one more time-”
But I knew the Eschaton was spent. It guttered and moaned, like some dying leviathan, and the wan hum of the shutter drive at last stilled.
“No, no!” Slevin wailed through the comms. “We were so close!”
“Grenades and horse-shoes,” I grumbled, stretching my arm up, feeling blindly for the rim of the crow’s nest. A long, slender arm reached down and wrapped around mine, pulling me up.
“Are you alright, Navigator?” it was my aide, Valle. She pulled me unsteadily to my feet.
“Guh.” I made a guttural noise and leaned against something hard.
“They’re hailing us!” someone shouted, their tone panicked.
There was a terse silence, until Mizka took charge. “...Open the channel.”
A voice crackled in from the Collective vessel. “This is Hannibal Symes, captain of the Collective Vessel Tanit. I would like to speak with your Navigator.”
I could hear the swivel of chairs as our crewmates turned to stare at me.
“...Ah, Navigator? We don’t have a-” Mizka started.
“You are in an intensely precarious position, Corporate Vessel. Do not further endanger it by lying.”
I felt someone jab me with an elbow.
“Er. This is the ship’s Navigator,” I replied, uncertainly.
There was a sigh of relief along the line, “Ah, excellent. We were worried about you, brother. That was quite the trick you pulled in the aether.”
“Uhm.” If I still had my sight, I would have looked around for someone, anyone to help me out. Instead, I shrugged helplessly.
“T-thank you?”
The voice laughed, a warm, hearty thing, “We’re all in one piece over here. We’d like to send some shuttles over to start on repairs, and help with any injuries you have. I’d also like to continue this conversation face to face, if you don’t mind.”
“Uhm.” My mouth worked noiselessly for a few minutes. We were, to my knowledge, completely at their mercy. We didn’t have the crew to fend off a boarding party, and even if we did, they’d just blast us into the vacuum from their ship. “Alright. That would be… helpful?”
Another laugh, “See you soon, brother.” And the comm line went dead.
Silence.
There was a squeaking noise right next to me. Slevin’s shrill voice demanded, “What in the fuck just happened?”