Well, the fight was sorta back on. It took the pirates another two and a half minutes to get through my locks. I laughed, but Penelope and Leda didn’t seem to think it was very funny. I stepped back behind Penelope to prepare to bottle neck the pirates before they could get to our command center.

This was one of the reasons Olympios got particularly unlucky with us. Penelope is a ranged unit, I’m more comfortable with hand to hand combat, and Leda’s not a combat unit at all. She’s a doctor. As bad as she is at fighting, she puts Pen and I back together.

Penelope made short work of the first wave of pirates with her sharpshooting. The cold, pulsar ridden bodies of those people started to stack up against the door, creating even more of an entry hazard for the coming waves.

It was my job to protect Penelope while she was shooting. The first pirate to make it past her line of fire was armed only with a pulsar knife and lunged for Penelope’s torso, but I was able to kick out his knee and fire a pulsar shot into his head.

The second required a bit more manpower. I forced my shoulders upward into his torso and threw him off my back. With my arm bracing his back and out of the way, I shot another two pirates before dispatching the one clawing at my back. I let the corpse slump to the ground and tried to use the heat and thrum of battle, real battle, to shake off the feeling of his clammy skin against mine.

“Watch your back,” Penelope said as she shot over my shoulder.

I kicked back into a pirates stomach and felt two sets of hands pulling back my arms. I fired my gun, a gamble really, and probably got one of them in the foot or hand because they yelled and cursed, but didn’t die.

Two shots of pale blue pulsar got rid of the problem that was putting pressure on my shoulder blades. “Thanks Leda!” I yelled as I killed the last member of the trio bothering me.

What happened next was completely my fault. I saw one of the Myrmidons sneak past me and Penelope, and I couldn’t get back to him in time.

“Self-destruction sequence activated,” the tinny voice of the AI chirped. “Please exit the vessel in three minutes.”

“Fuck,” I swore again as I hefted the body of my most recent kill out of my way. This time, no one yelled at me.

“They want to see how fast you can disable the command,” Leda sighed into my earpiece. Of course. Olympios always thinks it’s exciting when we barely pull out a win.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I said as I broke for the airlock, signaling for Pen and Leda to come with me. “Get in a Myrmidon pod.”

“Lieutenant Zonaras?” Leda asked.

Immediately followed by Pen’s “Cress?”

“They’re easy enough to fly and I can’t undo the command in that kind of time,” I lied. About the command, not about the pod. Those were child’s play.

Pen shot Parthenian style over her shoulder to dispatch the pirate gaining on Leda. Like a good captain, she grabbed Leda’s bicep and hauled her into one of the pods.

These things were not meant for two people, but Pen and I had experience flying spaceships. Leda did not.

A shot of pulsar hit my ankle just as I was opening the door to a pod. I didn’t see much other than some alien lying on the ground with his pulsar gun shaking in his hand. It was a good try, really it was. If we weren’t already evacuating, my numb foot would have been a real hindrance. But I don’t need my legs to fly a Myrmidon pod.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” I said into my earpiece.

“On your mark,” Pen said.

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“Press the red button for power. Use the console slider to set a speed. Tilt the handle in the direction you want to go,” I ordered. My internal clock was ticking. We had a full minute to get out of range. That distance made the whole thing feel unreal. Like it was just some immersive ride at an amusement park. “Set speed to five and follow me.”

“Aye,” Pen and Leda said in unison.

Perfect. A consistent speed five might rip off the hull of these flimsy pods if we had to be in them for more than an hour, but for our little getaway, it was just fine. The minute passed and the Parataxis exploded in a ball of pale blue, almost invisible light. Olympios would almost certainly CG it over with a more dramatic explosion. It’s a pity. I always imagined that that pale blue ball of light looked something like Earth.

And then the shrapnel hit.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself as I began to regulate a damaged altitude sensor. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Lieutenant Zonaras, we’ve got a problem,” Leda’s voice wavered through the commlink.

Shit. “Is it a problem that needs to be solved in three minutes? We’re almost there,” I said, as I pointed the Myrmidon at the OEHS.

“Oxygen levels are dropping fast,” Leda reported. “Estimated two minutes remaining.”

“Increase speed to six,” I ordered.

“That’ll rip apart the hull,” she said, even as she increased the speed. The little camera drones struggled to keep up.

“It’ll probably wreck the docking platform too,” I snapped. My new internal timer was ticking down faster than it needed to. Speed six put us at the station with almost thirty seconds of Pen and Leda’s air to spare. And then I started to fall behind.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said into the com before they even asked. “Just get to the dock.”

“Aye,” Pen said, low and even; using the least amount of oxygen possible.

The OEHS was equipped with some truly fascinating systems that repelled space debris with startling efficiency. With my engine completely blown out, I was just some high velocity space debris. Pen and Leda cleared the buildup of space junk just fine. Even from where I was, I could see the two of them get out of the pod at the dock, hands on their knees, heaving.

I had been repelled to a halt, nestled in yesterday’s uncleared space trash. It was a rather unglamorous way to die, even I had to admit. I kinda figured I’d go out staring down the barrel of at least three pulsar guns, but you know, this was just the way things were sometimes. Jess de Hartmann and Neptune Nimmo died this way on season 3 and 7, respectively, on Starpoint Guard. What was one more?

I fully expected to see Pen and Leda turn to look at me one last time before continuing with the guard down the hall to explain to several very angry CEOs why they didn’t have a starship anymore. Pen looked back at me, a guard-medic shoving an oxygen regulator in her mouth. Then she kicked the guard in the stomach and broke for the damaged pod.

“What are you doing?” I asked into the comm. I did not get a response. “Turn back.” No response. “There’s no use being a hero.” No response. “Leda’s probably getting in trouble instead of you.” No fucking response.

I tried to increase the power to the Myrmidon’s engine, but the usually lime green light of the command console blinked back a sickening red. “Pen…” I couldn’t muster any more force behind her name.

“Hold fast,” Penelope muttered as my pod jerked forwards.

Pen piloted her Myrmidon, ramming mine in the stern. The whirr of her engine kicked into a higher speed level as she pushed me, slowly, but surely, towards the docking platform. Every ounce of me from the tips of my fingers to my numb foot begged to fly back out to space. All of this could be over and done.

I looked over my shoulder and saw the black of Penelope’s irises ringed with neon light. The furrow of her brow and the rage caught in her shoulders chased away the urge to abandon this life. I spent so long looking that I screamed when we crashed into the landing zone.

I opened the hatch and stumbled onto the platform and was swarmed by four men with pulsar guns. One shoved an oxygen regulator into my mouth, even though my pod wasn’t malfunctioning. The other stripped me of both my guns and pulsar knives.

I struggled against them as the acrid, ozone smell of pulsar burning flesh filled my nose. Penelope reached for me as a guard jammed a pulsar spear into the soft gap behind Pen’s clavicle. I grabbed her hand, threading her fingers with mine so tight they’d have to break my wrist to get me to let go. Seconds passed like an eternity and the shining fury in Pen’s eyes faded to gray. Two guards each hauled us up by the shoulders and dragged us down the hall.

“Do not speak to me that way again,” Penelope muttered weakly behind the guard’s back.

“Thanks, Pen,” I sighed. The guard’s grip tightened.

At the end of the hall, the guard opened a door and sat us in a set of plastic chairs next to Leda. At this point, the three of us knew better than to speak. The guard left and locked the door behind him. What followed was always like a horror story. There’s silence and understanding; a suspense of knowing exactly what came next. And just when we thought maybe we wouldn’t have to do it this time, the tell tale click of high heels echoed from the hallway behind us.