The Universe, 3029

[Charles Maxwell]

Seven days later...

C.S.V. Mendacius
System jump point
Epsilon Eridani IV
March 3, 3029
___________________________

I white-knuckled the armrests of the bridge's jump seat as, with a roar, the Mendacius exited transit space, the surveillance vessel's compact K-F drives emitting a high-pitched whine while bleeding excess energy from their capacitors. Half a second later, the feed on a nearby display showed the Invader-class JumpShip Ingress flaring into existence, carrying with it the Republic and the Tana, a mere 28 kilometers away. Tension filled the bridge as Captain Donovan ordered radio silence, glancing at a tactical feed while listening intently to an ear monitor.

"I'm not hearing any chatter on the open bands," Donovan eventually reported. "I'm pretty sure our slight offset with their jump timing didn't get noticed."

Major Hayes nodded. "Let's push ahead, then."

Captain Donovan gestured to the Mendacius' pilot, who nodded knowingly, easing the helm's throttle forward. A dull reverberation began to vibrate through the vessel's superstructure, gravity quickly overtaking its decks as the massive planetary drives screamed to life and accelerated the ship to nearly half its safe speed.

"Mister O'Neil - go active sensors - let's find that DropShip. Throw everything you've got at it. It's a four day run to the planet from here under conventional drives; we need to know now just how much of a chase we're going to have to give," Major Hayes announced, looking toward the tactical display.

"Aye, sir. Sitrep coming up," the sensor chief replied. A lime-green, three-dimensional grid splashed across the bridge's main viewscreen, a series of animated, sequentially-flashing boxes illustrating the range and interval of the Mendacius' scans. Overlaid on the grid, a red line extended away toward the planet, intersected periodically by hash marks indicating distance in units of time.

"We're resolving multiple signatures," O'Neil reported. "I'm attempting to filter them to objects of interest so that we don't clutter up the display. There's a lot of debris between here and Epsilon Eridani - quite a few wrecks, some asteroids, and a few actual vessels here and there."

"Do what you can," Captain Donovan advised. Suddenly, Nathan Schmidt, who was seated to my left, leaned toward me.

"Is all that training still fresh on your mind, sir?" the Lyran whispered.

"Why do you ask?" I replied.

"Well, from what I can tell, these guys have no idea when and where we're gonna run up against the Capellans. Seems like we're taking a 'haul ass toward the planet and pray' approach," Nathan explained, "what with the running full bore off the jump point while scanning madly routine. If we actually had any intelligence about how far ahead these guys were, and what they were flying, I'm pretty sure we'd be taking a more measured approach."

"Astute observations; you may be right," I nodded. "And to answer your question: yes, I do remember your guidance about how to fly a space suit."

"Good, because we might find ourselves putting it to practical use at a moment's notice," Nathan answered, leaning back in his seat and cracking his chewing gum loudly. 

"Yeah, when someone finally questions why there's a cruise ship pulling one and a quarter Gs through a debris-strewn asteroid belt while pumping out scans across three dozen different frequencies," I quipped. Steve Jenkins, seated to my right, let out a snort.

"We can just say we're on a booze cruise!" the MechWarrior exclaimed, several heads on the bridge turning toward us at the outburst. I buried my face in my hands.

"Sir, I've got a contact!" O'Neil advised, highlighting the sensor trace on the bridge display. I rose from my seat and strode across the bridge to stand alongside Hayes and Donovan.

"What've we got?" I asked.

"It's a transport ship - the only one in the immediate area - and it's broadcasting Capellan IFF. About thirty minutes ahead of us, which is odd - that means that they couldn't have come into the system aboard our JumpShip, and the JumpShip prior to that arrived two days ago and is no longer on station at the arrival point," the sensor chief explained.

"Okay, so it's a Capellan transport that maybe had engine difficulties or something - what makes you suspect that it's the one we're looking for?" Donovan asked, moving closer to the tactical display to scrutinize the sensor reading.

"Because, sir, the Capellan military doesn't usually run Mules as combat craft," Ortiz answered. "A Mule broadcasting a CCAF frigate code on its transponder is nothing I've ever seen before. Whoever's running that ship doesn't want it messed with."

"Our intel said we're looking for a Trojan," Major Hayes observed.

"I could definitely see how someone could mistake a Mule for a Trojan if all they had to go on was a low-res visual and a falsified transponder code," I replied, "though the tonnage difference between a Trojan and a Mule is significant."

"You sound like you're familiar with them," Hayes answered, turning to face me.

"Very much so. My parents were merchants in the Periphery. I grew up on the trade routes between the Aurigan Coalition, the Taurian Concordat, and the Capellan Confederation. Your sensor chief is right, the transponder code doesn't make much sense."

"What kind of armament can we expect?" the Major asked, raising an eyebrow. "That ship is over eleven thousand tons - double our own mass. If we're about to get a bloody nose, I want to know our odds."

"Assuming it's a stock configuration?" I replied. "Moderate armor, an AC/5, two SRM-6 launchers on the sides, and a smattering of large, medium and small lasers covering the blind spots. A lot of Mules tend to run with a couple of those weapons on the fritz at any given time. The Mendacius is reasonably matched in terms of agility and firepower."

"Sir, we don't necessarily have to engage in a firefight with them," Captain Donovan advised, moving to join us. "The Mendacius is outfit with a pair of grapnels. Assuming that this is our ship, if we can get in low, just above their engine ports, we could take out their rear-facing weapons with our PPC before they're in range to return fire, and then use the grapnel cannons to snare them and pull them within the boarding distance we'd planned for the extraction team."

Major Hayes furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

"We're taking a huge leap of faith making the assumption that this is our vessel. Our intelligence on the matter is sparse, at best," the Major grumbled.

"With all due respect, sir, I think that's a risk we're going to have to take. If that is the ship, and William's aboard, this is our best chance," I countered.

"I agree. 'Reasonable suspicion' seems to be the litmus test at the moment," Hayes acknowledged. "Set an intercept course. As soon as we're in range, start jamming them, but leave short range hailing available in case they want to talk to us. I don't want them to get off a call home, especially if it turns out we have a case of mistaken identity. Maxwell, Schmidt, Jenkins, and Weyland - suit up. You may be on deck shortly."

[Nikki Harlow]

"Attention all hands: we're beginning our descent to Epsilon Eridani Four. Passengers, gravity might be squirrely for a few minutes, so hang onto your cookies. Off-duty crew, you're on call, so please be sober for the next few days in case you're needed. That means you, James." Nikki released the button on the com unit, and a staticky snippet of her low, Mac-Ridge accented voice echoed over the speaker before it clicked off.  

Nikki laid in a course for the drop site and activated the autopilot, while Gretchen logged into a computer terminal to monitor their descent. Once the autopilot took over, Nikki picked up her noteputer and resumed her game of Laser Catgirls 2: Return of the Grays.

Epsilon Eridani IV appeared through a couple of the bridge's windows, then swung out of view as the ship set its' new course. The ship's engines hummed, and stars slowly drifted downward.

The tactical terminal pinged. Nikki paused her game, spun her seat to face the terminal, and zoomed in on the highlighted area. “Gretta, what do you make of this?”

Gretchen put a bookmark in the GE 2080 drive manual and joined Nikki by the pilot’s seat. “‘Fhloston Paradise’, Monarch class - a cruise ship.”

“Yep. Visiting a cowpie across the crick from nowhere.” Nikki typed in a command to run a more detailed scan.

“Shall I recalibrate the sensors again?” Gretchen asked. 

“No, this doesn’t look like those other identification errors - I’ve got more sensor data coming in now, and it all checks out. Maybe it’s a discount cruise, I don’t know.”

Gretchen checked the sensor suite’s settings, and Nikki returned to her game. Her catvatar vaporized two grays and defeated a third using claw-fu. Then the terminal pinged again.

“They’re on an intercept course,” Gretchen said. “Closing fast.”

Nikki tossed her game aside. “The cruise ship?” She swiveled her chair toward the tactical terminal. Her noteputer played a feline yowl, indicating game over. 

“I’m not sure what it is. There’s no reason for a cruise ship to intercept us.” Gretchen pushed buttons and swiped aside prompts on the tactical terminal so fast that Nikki couldn't keep up with reading them. “The radar’s had moths in it ever since somebody reset it to factory specs. Could be anything from a warship to a rock.”

“Good thing we're not carrying anything worth sending a warship after. I hope we've at least got their name right, or I’m going to look like an idiot.” Nikki sighed and picked up the com unit. "Fhloston Paradise, this is Nikki Harlow, captain of the freighter Hurry Up Bessie. Please state your intentions.”

[Bishop Weyland]

Seven days later...

C.S.V. Mendacius

System jump point
Epsilon Eridani IV
March 3, 3029

___________________________

 

Maxwell, Schmidt, Jenkins, and Weyland - suit up. You may be on deck shortly."

Bishop had been all but oblivious to what was going on. The secret pain he was feeling was affecting his mental clarity. The truth of the matter war he had burns over 70% of his body and many still healing broken and fractured bones. The Major,  Nathan  and Captain Donovan had reservations about allowing him to be apart of the mission. The Skinwalker had to lie and take secret doses of pain narcotics and small amounts of combat stimulates just to move and think straight. Sleep was also a distant memory for the Mercenary. The dreams horrified him, the suit called to him. He found him self alone most of time not wanting companionship. 

Major Hayes and Captain Donovan wanted an in-depth debrief on what exactly happened to him on when he went missing. Bishop had to lie and say he didn’t remember. The fact of the matter was.... he knew it all. One night Nathan found bishop silently sitting in front of his suit starring at it. Nathan tried to open a conversation but the brooding mercenary just gave one answer responses. After the incident Majors Hayes ordered the suit to be locked in the armory... only he had the passcode and denied Bishop’s request to perform maintenance on it. 

The only thing keeping his mind from detonating was this mission. In it, he found a lust for battle and death. It drove him to train harder everyday to point he was exhausted even vomiting on the bad days. His one driving thought was to make it back into suit... and battle. 

He was ready.. driven by pain and fueled by rage. 

[James Hayes]

"Fhloston Paradise, this is Nikki Harlow, captain of the freighter Hurry Up Bessie. Please state your intentions.”

Marcus Donovan glanced at me incredulously, mouthing the words "Hurry Up Bessie" as he did so. I shrugged, shaking my head.

"Hardly a Capellan freighter name," Donovan observed.

"Hardly the name I'd expect for a Capellan captain," I replied. "I think we're on to something. Interesting how quickly they spotted us, too. Might be some paranoia happening there."

"I agree. And it seems they're on to us, too. I better get them talking. In the mean time, sir, you may want to get suited up as well. I'm going to have the helm close the gap," the Captain acknowledged. I paused momentarily, remembering that I, too, was on deck for this engagement. It had been a while since that was last the case.

"Right. The ship is yours. I'll be monitoring via comm link," I acknowledged.

"Good luck, sir," Donovan answered as I stepped into the lift. As the doors swished closed and the elevator car began to move laterally down the length of the Mendacius, I felt the ship's gravity suddenly double. The helm was pushing the engines hard, solidly exceeding the vessel's safe speed in an attempt to overtake the freighter. I gripped onto the car's handrail to stabilize myself as I withdrew my comm unit from its cargo pocket and flipped it open, listening in on the ship-to-ship communication.

"This is Cruise Director Marcus Donovan of the Fhloston Paradise. One of your crew members entered a raffle for an all-expenses-paid trip on the White Swan Trans-Stellar, Inc. luxury liner of their choice. They won! We're here to deliver the golden certificate personally," Donovan's voice enthused.

"Raffle? I don't remember hearing anything about a raffle," Captain Harlow replied, confusion in her voice. A series of muffled, off-mic exchanges followed, during which the name 'James' was mentioned several times. The speaker eventually returned to the comm channel. "Who was the winner?"

"Does the name 'James' ring a bell?" Marcus asked, continuing the ruse.

"Oh my god. Your intern is going to make us late for the drop-off. Or, later, as the case might be, given the cock-up with the sensors at the jump point..." Nikki's voice continued, a debate beginning to unfold with someone in the background. I hit a button on my comm unit to transmit an intraship message to Captain Donovan only.

"Feels like we're pulling nearly two Gs, Marcus. How much longer till we're within NCSS range?" I asked.

"About two more minutes. If we do find something, it's going to be nearly eight minutes to grapnel distance. Enough time for you to be ready to go - but also a hell of a long time to keep up this game," Donovan answered.

"Keep them talking. Let me know as soon as you've got something conclusive. Get me a spectral analysis of the heat signatures on that ship - I want to know how many bio signs are onboard and whether or not it looks like any of them are being detained. Also, tap into their comm system if you can. Any chatter that gives us an indication of what's going on over there could be useful," I responded.

"You got it," Marcus confirmed, the voice of Captain Harlow still audible in the background as she apparently read someone on the other end of the commlink the riot act.

With a cheery 'ding,' the lift's doors swished open, revealing the expanse of the forward cargo bay beyond. Nathan Schmidt, Steve Jenkins, Bishop Weyland, and Charles Maxwell stood near the chamber's towering external doors, all four men in various stages of suiting up for the mission ahead. As I approached, Charles and Weyland took notice of me, their postures straightening as they looked in my direction.

"Major Hayes; welcome to the party," Captain Maxwell quipped.

"Glad to be here. As for you, Lieutenant Weyland...how are you doing? You sure you're feeling up to this?" I asked, gazing at Bishop's countenance, noting that the towering man seemed to be barely suppressing his physical pain. "There's no shame in taking a pass, but I'd be lying if I said we wouldn't greatly benefit from your abilities."

As Bishop took in what I'd just said, I quickly began changing into the combat spacesuit that had been laid out for me. Whatever the outcome of my offer was to be, I had a feeling that the mission clock would be starting soon, and it was critical for me to be at the ready...

[Steve Jenkins]

MEANWHILE...

The gravity got super heavy as I tried to put on my war space suit, it felt like the pilot of the ship was driving like an asshole, for what reason I did not know why, but the forces Almost sundered my muscles. I grabbed the helmet off the shelf and put it on my head, it looks like a gigantic Fishbowl but with ancient battle writings of my people on it, it was a prayer to the Gods to put chilling Focus into the sacred staff and nunchucks I would be carrying with me. When you were fighting in outer space you had to have Focus, if you got distracted even for a second you could miss your target and go flipping off into space forever. I remembered this one time when I was on a space job back on Kentares, it was an eviction, somebody had not paid their rent on their space station in like 23 local months, we had to go in and tell the guy he had to move out. But when we got there, Jimmy Eaton, one of my battle buddies, tried to go out of the ship too fast. He had slipped and fell going through the doorway of the space code enforcement Cruiser, and the next thing he knew he was falling down, down, down toward the planet screaming dishonorably like a maniac the whole time. Me and the guy that we're getting evicted just watched and grieved his passing. So you have to stay focused. After it was over, I asked the guy if he was going to pay, and he said no. But that's a different story.

As I was changing into the rubber t-shirt and thong that you have to wear under a combat space suit, I saw Major Hayes roll up on us. He started talking to Captain Maxwell and my rehab client, which was a Problem, on account of I had attorney Client Privilege and only I could talk to him about legal and medical Things. I tried to go over to talk to them but I had forgot that I had not pulled my space suit arms on yet and they were still clipped on the shelf, when I tried to walk they clotheslined me back up against the rack and banged my head up inside the helmet, I got dizzy and lost my balance and sat/fell against the side of the Gym lockers that had our clothes inside them and I got stuck on account of the extra G-force pulling on me and the space suit. Then I heard an announcement. 

"ATTEMTION, ATTENTION, WE ARE ABOUT TO BE IN COMBAT RANGE, PLEASE PUT YOU SPACESUITS ON AND READY YOUR WEAPONS FOR ENGAGEMENT, THAT IS ALL."

I hadn't done this since Kentares, was I ready???

[Nikki Harlow]

"Look, mister, um, cruise director. We're on our way to make an important, time sensitive drop, and we can't stop til it's completed. If you'd like to rendezvous with us, it has to wait til after the drop. I imagine that would cut into your schedule, so perhaps this ticket can be transmitted electronically?"

While speaking with the cruise director, Nikki searched the ship's database for a list of White Swan vessels. This situation wasn't impossible, but it was stupid enough to be worth verifying. 

The com unit crackled. "I suppose it could, but our live studio audience would be so disappointed!" 

"What." Nikki said. "How are you transmitting to a studio? In case you haven't noticed, you're in the middle of nowhere." 

"We are the studio," the cruise director said, "and we have an audience of vacationers right here in our ship's auditorium who can't wait to meet your winning crew member - and I must say, your commentary is really building the suspense. Can't you spare a few minutes so we can bring him on board?" 

"You're broadcasting this conversation?" 

"To every room on the ship!" 

Nikki turned to Gretchen and mouthed, "kill me". Gretchen snickered and went back to tinkering with the sensors. 

"I'm sorry to rain on your parade, director, but you need to schedule these things ahead of time when other vessels are involved. We have an obligation to our client. We can't be late."

The voice on the other end gave an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose we'll have to set up video conferencing, in that case. We'll hold our course, vessel-to-vessel picture quality improves with proximity. Do you have ComStar SynerSpeak?" 

"We're still running the old version, Face-to-Screen." 

"We'll have to install some compatibility patches, in that case, please stand by." The transmission cut off. 

Nikki keyed in a transmission to James's quarters, and set it to ring on arrival: "Nearby vessel wants to call you on screen. It's about a contest you entered. Be ready." Then she started scrolling through the list of White Swan's vessels in her search results. 

"Nikki, I think you'd better look at this," Gretchen said, tilting her monitor towards the captain. "If that's a monarch, or really any aerodyne liner, it shouldn't be going that fast. Their engines just don't have the juice." 

"Weird. Maybe it had an engine upgrade?" 

"It's a cruise liner. Why would it need to go three times its' safe speed?" 

Nikki's terminal pinged. James's reply popped up on the screen: "What contest? I didn't enter nothing."

"Shit. It's not a cruise liner." 

[Nicholas Schuster]

Meanwhile.....

I listened to the exchange between the Mendacius and the Hurry Up Bessie. Hearing Donovan hamming it up, his normal serious and crisp military dialect replaced with an over-the-top, smarmy-sounding game show host-style delivery would have been side-splittingly hilarious if it weren't for the fact that I understood full well that the outcome of our mission relied almost exclusively on the man's ability to keep the ruse going for as long as possible. Fortunately, it seemed as though he had come up with a fairly convincing narrative, which presently was allowing us a scant window of time to ready ourselves for the mission while the Mendacius closed the distance to our target. 

I glanced around me. Captain Maxwell and Major Hayes were well on their way to having their high-altitude gear ready, while Bishop moved more slowly, deliberately, and painfully as he fought through obviously still-raw battlefield injuries to suit up as he talked with the Major. Meanwhile Steve Jenkins bounced around on one foot, flashing the entire cargo bay as he fought a losing battle against a rubber thong he was attempting to don as apparently, a totally unnecessary component of his space suit. 

I'd been through the process of donning space combat armor so many times that I'd blazed through today's process and now stood in the cargo bay, looking for opportunities to help. 

Suddenly, I heard Captain Maxwell let out a frustrated grumbled. I wandered over to his location to see if I could be of assistance, and it was then that I saw his helmet communication unit had been installed upside down.

"How in the heck did that happen, sir? I asked.

"I have no idea, but it's going to be a real pain in the ass to try to use the thing this way." Charles explained. "I don't suppose you have any whiz bang tech tricks that might fix this situation?" 

"Actually, I might." I said, pulling my rigging knife and guiding the flat edge up against the communication unit. Once it was in place, I slowly but forcefully gave it a thump. As the comm unit separated from the helmet, save for a series of wires that ran from the device into the the host interface, I accidentally slashed my hand open with the blade. 

"Shit!" I yelled. 

"Oh, god, we need to get you some medical attention." Charles observed. "Major Hayes, can you -" 

"We're fine, Major!" I countered. 

"Why did you do that? You need to get bandaged, at least." said Charles. 

"No, really, I'm fine." I said, clamping a free had down on the cut. "Watch this..."

[Bishop Weyland]

Meanwhile....

As for you, Lieutenant Weyland...how are you doing? You sure you're feeling up to this?" Asked Major Hayes. 

Bishop looked up at the Major, “I’ll be fine sir, thank you for allowing me to come out”

The massive Skinwalker struggled some putting on his gear which made him more pissed then usual. Since waking up he found in mood to more darker and full of anger then ever before. The thought of combat fueled him to move passed the pain and sharpen his thoughts. 

Bishop watched Nathan try and fix the Captains radio.... he did but inadvertently cut himself by doing so. Just then Bishop scenes opened like flood gates. He could smell Nathan’s blood, the reaction struck him like a thunderbolt. He had to suppress this new instinct.... the battle rage. 

After snapping his helmet into place, mercenary quickly turned his mind to the final gear inspection. Bishop adjust the 100lbs ammo box on his back and snapped in the ammo feeding belt into the massive MG-42 light machine gun. With a well rehearsed movement Bishop slapped the charging handle filling the room with a thunderous CRACK! 

Suddenly Bishop became aware that all eyes where on him.

“Hey buddy, you know this is a close quarters combat type of mission right?” Jenkins asked. 

“Yeah.... just a little more insurance.... there are only four of us” Bishop said deadpanned. 

The weight of the weapon calmed the feeling of claustrophobia that was rattling his nerves. Over the past few weeks Bishop was silently suffering from Mother’s curse..... all of his senses had been heightened beyond what a human should have.  He craved to be back in the suit. 

Edited September 4, 2020 by Joker 4-1

[Charles Maxwell]

"No, really, I'm fine." Nathan said, clamping a free hand down on the cut. "Watch this..."

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt as though I was being watched. I turned to see Bishop gazing intently at Nathan, so focused on the Lyran's injury that he leaned forward, his pupils dilating visibly.

"We're good!" Nathan called out to the Skinwalker, quickly turning his back toward the man while clasping my arm to turn me about as well.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Just...watch," the young man replied. Slowly, Schmidt unclenched his wounded hand. While just moments ago, the cut had bled freely, a dry clot now ran the length of the injury.

"Okay, that's impressive - what'd you do, squeeze a styptic stick or something when I wasn't looking?" I asked.

"No - just - keep watching," Nathan answered. I stared at the cut, not sure what I was looking for.

"Did you mess up your hand?" an unexpected voice interjected. It was Major Hayes, standing before us with a pair of laser rifles.

"It's just a light cut, Major," Nathan responded. "Barely broke the surface. I'll be fine. It was worth it. I got Captain Maxwell's comm unit turned around."

The Major nodded. "Alright - if you're sure it's not going to mess you up over there..."

"I'm certain, Major," Schmidt answered.

"Good, because you gents are going to need both hands to operate these," Hayes answered, handing each of us a Magna Laser Rifle and bandoleers of energy cells. I took the weapon in my hands and looked it over. A series of Japanese characters, engraved into the weapon's stock, caught my eye.

"What does this say? Anything important that I should know?" I asked.

"It says 'D.C.S. Takashima.' We haven't had the opportunity to file those marks off yet. What you need to know is this," Hayes replied, reaching over and setting the weapon's beam focus to a wide spread and the output level to '2.' "This is essentially the 'stun' setting - or at least, as close to one as a Kuritan weapon can achieve. It'll probably still singe someone's eyebrows off, but other than that, they'll be dazed but unharmed. I want you to keep the power level there unless you have a significant reason to change it. More on that in a moment. Any other questions?"

I glanced toward Nathan, who shook his head.

"No, Major, I think we're all set. Point and click; don't change the power setting. Pretty straightforward," I replied.

"Good. And you - " Hayes, continued, looking toward Schmidt.

"I know, I know, you don't have to say it. Don't kill any of the good guys, either. I swear, you can trust me," Nathan sighed.

"That's not what I was going to say. May I finish?" Hayes replied in a faux-irritated tone. Schmidt recoiled slightly in surprise, nodding.

"I was going to say no funny business with the electronics. I know how much you like to tinker. That rifle had better not come back playing the goddamn Battle Hymn of the MechWarrior or something," Hayes deadpanned, clapping the Lyran on the shoulder before making his way toward Private Jenkins to continue the weapon distribution.

"You know, I like that guy," Nathan smiled. "Also, look."

The Lyran extended his injured hand. To my disbelief, the angry, crimson wound had reduced in size to a hairline scab, fresh, pink skin now largely present where the knife had cut its path.

"How in the hell did you do that?" I hissed.

"I haven't a clue," Nathan replied, quietly. "This is the second time my body seems to have just - regenerated from an injury. I have a thought. I think something happened to me on the Takashima. In the server room, I felt something - "

Nathan's explanation was cut off by a loud whistle from Major Hayes, who gestured for the extraction team to join him at the near end of the bay, in front of the cargo doors.

"I guess it's time," Schmidt commented. "I'll fill you in later. Suffice it to say - I seem to be a fast healer."

"I look forward to that conversation," I answered. Together, Schmidt and I made our way toward the assembled group, joining Bishop Weyland and Steve Jenkins in a semicircle before the Major.

"Alright, gentlemen, listen up. We're almost in range of the freighter. Let's do a quick review of our to-do list - what I'm calling 'Operation: King's Bounty.' When we've arrived on target, Captain Donovan's going to use the Mendacius' grapnel launchers to take the Hurry Up Bessie into tow and bring it to within 500 meters of our bow. Simultaneously, tactical will take out the freighter's aft weapons. While that's happening, this bay will decompress. Once the Bessie is pacified, that green light over our heads will turn on, and the cargo doors will open. We'll have thirty seconds to exit the bay and get across to the upper hull of the Capellan DropShip. We'll exit the bay in a wedge formation with Nathan Schmidt on point, as he's the most experienced flyer out of the five of us. Use your booster packs as judiciously as possible to get across to the upper airlock marked 'Cargo Bay 2.' Once we've landed, Mr. Schmidt will override the electronic lockout to get us inside. Once we've breached the vessel, we need to make our way to the main cargo bay - Cargo Bay 1 - where we have reason to believe that William Kauffman is being held. That's going to be directly 'beneath' Cargo Bay 2 and Cargo Bay 3 relative to the position where we're entering on the top of the ship. We will have to traverse two corridors, connected by an elevator, to get there," Hayes began.

"Now - it's highly likely that we're going to meet some resistance from the freighter's crew. We're detecting roughly 26 life signs on the ship. As much as possible, I want this team to try to preserve every one of those lives unless you have no other alternative but to use deadly force. We believe that these are civilians we're dealing with, which lends the possibility that they have no idea what kind of a situation they're caught up in. Keep in mind that your responsibility to protect life extends to mitigating damage to the vessel as well. The weapons I've issued you are set to an output level that should achieve both outcomes. Lieutenant Weyland, as I see you've already made...substantial preparations...for the boarding action, I'll trust you to use appropriate discretion with your loadout," the Major continued.

Bishop nodded, silently.

"Once we've located our missing executive, Private Jenkins, who's been issued a backpack containing an emergency vac kit, will have the responsibility of assisting Kauffman into his spacesuit. We'll then withdraw from the freighter and jump back to the Mendacius. Callsigns for this operation are as follows: Alpha-1: me. Alpha-2: Captain Maxwell. Alpha-3: Lieutenant Weyland. Alpha-4: Nathan Schmidt. Alpha-5: Private Jenkins. Any questions?" Hayes asked.

The collective group remained silent.

"Alright. This is an off-the-record extraction that never happened. You will not speak of it. If asked by any entity outside the Crayven Corporation, you will deny any knowledge of William Kauffman having ever been missing. Our job is of a singular scope: to bring him home," the Major concluded. "Failure is not an option."

The low roar of weapons fire reverberated through the Mendacius' hull.

"It sounds like we've made contact. Form up. And godspeed."

[Nikki Harlow]

"Gretta, alert the crew and get Bridget up here, then call PAN-PAN on Capellan hailing frequencies only. We've got pirates." 

Nikki pulled up the weapons interface on the tactical terminal and locked the guns' targeting software onto the rapidly approaching "cruise ship". She didn't arm the lasers; the other ship's sensors would detect that. 

"Attention all hands", Gretchen said into her com unit, "an unfamiliar vessel is approaching us." 

The tactical display indicated an incoming message. Nikki hastily put on a wireless headset, jammed its' earbud into her ear and routed the call there. "Cruise Director Marcus Donovan here, is your lucky crewman ready?" 

Gretchen lowered her voice and continued her announcement. "The vessel is behaving suspiciously and may have hostile intentions. Bridget, report to the bridge. All others, be ready and wait for further instructions." 

"He sure is!" Nikki's voice was full of fake enthusiasm. "I'll open a channel to his terminal right now." 

As soon as Nikki released the com button, Gretchen started her next transmission. "Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan, this is the freighter Hurry Up Bessie." 

Nikki opened a video call, using the security camera in cargo bay 3 to supply the video. As she dragged the Face-to-Screen window aside to focus on the weapons systems, the transmission connected with static on Fhloston's end, and a pair of brown and grey Jersey cattle eating from a bulkhead-mounted hay dispenser on Bessie's. 

"We just departed the Eridani Four jump point. We've been approached at close range by a possible hostile- oh no." Gretchen poked at her terminal for a moment.

"What?"

"EM interference. It looks natural, but the increase was so sudden, it must be-" 

"Pirates." Nikki fired a short range missile, and the three lasers currently facing the other vessel. She switched her headset over to the intra-ship channel. "All hands. Enemy vessel is jamming ship-to-ship. We've fired. Bridget, get up here now. James, to engineering." Nikki fired a second volley of lasers.

Two thunderous clangs rang through the ship from somewhere below them. Nikki fired again. Displays throughout the bridge flickered off, including Nikki's tactical terminal, and when they came back on one laser's status had switched to red. "What was that?" 

"PPC, and they've got a cable on us," Gretchen responded. "Two, actually. We're hooked like a fish. And now they're- opening a cargo bay?" 

The displays flickered and another laser flipped to red. "Thanks, I see it now." Nikki took manual control of the one remaining laser, aimed it at the open cargo bay, and fired. A beam of light disappeared into the enemy ship's cargo bay. A blue bolt launched from Fhloston's forward gun and knocked Bessie's last facing laser offline. 

Edited September 7, 2020 by Nikki Harlow