The boarding gates swivelled open, and five pirates crawled through. They were each dressed in simple black body-wraps, much different from the bombastic combinations of foreign clothes Sinko normally associated with raiders.

They were unarmed, because any resistance or attempt to escape for the Quasar spelled certain death for its crew, especially with a pirate ship latched on. It was clear that they did not underestimate the junkers’ rationality. A small young woman led the way, her every move betraying a calm confidence. She was clearly the leader of the group.

“Keys, please.” It was an order, not a request. Sinko handed over the three keys that unlocked the controls of the ship. Though he had already surrendered, handing over the keys finalized it in a way that stung even deeper. He had spent almost twenty years with the Quasar, and only a handful of times had he relinquished the keys. This was the first time it wouldn’t be to a trusted friend.

“Which way to the pit?” The woman’s voice, deep and scratchy, was full of resolve and it was clear she would not put up with any nonsense.

Sinko motioned to the narrow ladder leading from the boarding doors to the cockpit. One of the pirates said, “Motilla, we accompany you?”

Motilla– the leader– flexed her fingers, signing that there was no need. “Just ready to unload the cargo,” she said and scampered up the ladder to the pit. A few moments later, the hold doors– opposite the boarding port– opened. Piles of exotic metals, shining and glowing even in the dark, littered the hold floor. Sinko held his breath, hoping they wouldn’t find his more precious cargo.

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The pirates ignored the precious metals. Instead, they shifted the wall panels, looking for the specialized goods normally kept there. But as they moved through the hold, checking each shelf, it was clear they were looking for something specific. Even a tank of Sukrati flowerfish, valued at hundreds of leagues of gas cubed, failed to catch their attention.

They finally made their way to the last shelf. Inside was a plain iron box. One pirate drew out a light-knife and with expert precision cut a small opening. They reached in and drew out a small sphere with overlapping loops coming out of it. It was a gravity bomb, powerful enough to take down a large warship if used correctly. On the black market, more valuable than a hundred flowerfish.

“What do you plan to do with this?” Sinko’s voice was shaky.

The pirates didn’t even bother to react. One of them flashed a light up the ladder to Motilla, who seemed to slide instantly.

“You have it?” she questioned her squad. The pirate gestured to the sphere in his hand. For a second she seemed to falter, appearing lost in thought. Then she focused in again and began issuing orders. “Yarkip, bring this to our hold. Maska, Ieu, escort these prisoners to their quarters… Except these two,” she said, gesturing to Jarine and Sinko.

The pirates led most of Sinko’s crew, ten junkers in total, through the boarding gates and onto their ship. Motilla gestured to Jarine. “You. You stay. Fly home, if you can.”

Sinko was baffled. What pirate would pass up on a junker to add to their raiding fleet? What pirate would leave behind precious cargo to be delivered?

“Sinko Maydair, you come with me.”

Sinko felt his stomach drop through the floor. These pirates had played him completely– they even knew his name– and now he felt he could not even begin to understand their motivations.

Motilla pulled him towards the boarding gate, and he hesitantly crawled through, signing farewell to Jarine. Once on the other side, she put her hand on the lever, preparing to seal the doors. She spoke loudly and clearly to Jarine, across the gate. “What you will do, we will not forget.”

With that the doors were sealed, and Sinko had lost his ship.