Lyric Hadley tossed and turned in her cramped quarters. She couldn’t help thinking, a lieutenant commander deserved better quarters. Fuck that! She deserved a better ship than a decoy tug! The damn thing was pitiful and the noise didn’t help.

She was exhausted at the sheer futility of trying to sleep through the cheers and hollering. She turned over and covered her head with yet another pillow, knowing it wouldn’t help. The better part of her covers already slipped off the edge of the bed, but she wasn’t worried about that. It was plenty warm enough, but that . . . that noise! It was too fucking loud!

The sleep tangled ends of her short black hair poked out from under the pillows. Minus the covers, no amount of pillows could conceal her shapely body, clothed only in pink underwear. Maybe it was too hot.

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The incessant noise never stopped; it simply changed. Within the blink of an eye, cheers and whistles morphed into screams and battle cries.

Lyric sat straight up. She was seconds away from the blissfulness of sleep, a gift forever stolen . . . at least for tonight. Regardless of what happened or would happen, she held the brunt of the responsibility. She nearly ran from her quarters in her underwear, otherwise clothed only in glistening beads of sweat. As she yanked on her uniform, she made out a few shouted words and a formed the basics of a battle scenario.

They hadn’t sustained any damage, but were under imminent threat and most likely from pirates. What fucking timing! They were slated to head home tomorrow; now they might not go home at all! If they survived they’d surely be held up for days, buried in blood and reports. She was in shock her superiors hadn’t demanded she catalogue the results every time she brushed her fucking teeth!

Lyric sprinted to ops in her bare feet and a uniform fastened to her body by every other button. Upon arrival she found half her crew were staggering drunks . . . creating a mixture of delirious fear. The alcohol severed only to enhance an otherwise palpable fear of the unknown. The intoxication was blinding, allowing a deeper fear to set in, as they were sober enough to remember where they were and why. Pirates were on the prowl.

Soon Lyric’s screams joined the conglomerate. “Status report!” The hysteria delayed a prompt response. “Status report, ensign!!”

At the second call, the ensign regarded her dizzily and soon started laughing with a hysterical, nervous fear. “P . . . p . . . pirates . . . fucked . . . we . . . all fucked.” Then he covered his eyes, as if that would make it all go away, and continued laughing as tears danced with sweat.

From across the room a saner voice spoke. “Pirates, ma’am. Attacking from outside the cluster! We were caught off guard! Roberts . . . passed out, he was on radar!” This last part paused and then shot from Julie Sutherland’s mouth, as if in sudden awareness of the fact.

The tug, Cyrano, rocked as a detection mine detonated off their port side. The ensign fell out of his chair laughing, the shock silencing him briefly before his hysteria resumed.

Julie screamed over the chaos, “They attacked just out of range, ma’am! We’d be dead now if it weren’t for a sharp eye aboard the Nemesis. Their countermeasures intercepted the initial attack and gave us time for evasive maneuvers!”

Lyric nodded in acceptance as the much needed information flowed. She remembered once, not long ago, Cyrano overflowed with “sharp eyes”, as she’d personally handpicked each member of her crew for this critical assignment. She should. It could make or break her career, but break seemed far more likely now . . . even if they survived.

“We’re just a tug. It didn’t take the pirates long to go after the real threats, Nemesis and Brigand! They’ve both been hit. I don’t know how hard, but they’re both still afloat.”

After a few computations Lyric yelled to Julie, though it wasn’t quite as necessary as they neared each other during the report. “Why are we heading out of the sector?!”

“We have to get help, ma’am! Procedure for a tug!”

“Call for it by sub-space transmitter! We’ve been overhauled, Julie! We’re more dangerous than they think! Turn this thing around!”

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Relentless reeled from another hit. Captain Krantz was born for conflict and though screamed, his orders flowed effortlessly. “Launch countermeasures! Launch fighters and destroyers! Give me a damage report! Bring cannons to bear at 45 degrees, quadrant 34!”

Despite the chaos, his crew ran like a well-oiled machine. Orders were carried out left and right. Ten bay doors opened on each side of the massive cruiser and precision cannons launched detector mines and laser mines.

The immense vessel shuddered as countermeasures connected with their targets. Evasive maneuvers were impossible for a cruiser but soon enough two destroyers were launched, each twice the size of a tug.

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Jeb Saber slaved over his holo-terminal faster than even he thought possible. He’d already managed to block all sub-space frequencies prior to the assault. Surely they knew that by now.

The existence of the other two cruisers wasn’t a surprise, but he had one in store for them. After a few more connections Jeb hit the enter key. The virus had been sent. Soon he was switching his target to the other cruiser. He hit enter once more.

Now where the hell had that tug ran off to!

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The Brigand’s fighters were their pride and joy, they’d eliminated countless pirates with cunning and skill. Beta commander, Ed Salley, knew this and practically frothed at the mouth for more. A million thoughts rushed through his head, but the first and foremost was “kill the bastards”. Less than a year ago they’d murdered his wife, Emma, who was also a fighter pilot. Technically death during wartime didn’t add up to murder, but that’s not how he saw it and he wanted . . . no, needed revenge!

He’d already beaten everyone else to the hangar. The fighter pilots hadn’t even been ordered to suit up yet, but they would be at any moment. “Attention! All fighter pilots and destroyer crew members! Suit up and board your vessels! Attention! All fighter . . .”

There it was! It repeated again and again on a loop. It was music to Ed’s ears. It wasn’t just the battle cry that drove him. They’d done such a good job on the computer’s female voice. It was . . . so close to Emma’s . . . “Bastards!!” He screamed.

He climbed the short ladder to his cockpit. His tears welled up and blurred the retina scan, denying him access to his fighter. He blinked his eyes and held back his tears. His fighter’s chromide barrier opened on the second try. As the barrier was closing he saw the other pilots filing in. The command tower saw Salley was ready and began opening his bay door early.

Salley activated all systems and waited. It only took a minute, but it seemed like an eternity. His computer terminal informed him when the bay doors were secure and locked open. Salley hit the thrusters.

The sudden force returned the favor and Salley felt plastered in his cushioned seat. He soon flew clear of the hangar and viewed the stars with their familiar tar black backdrop. He couldn’t see it directly, as the cockpit was sealed by a lead-lined, protective chromide barrier, restricting every last ounce of sunlight and all chance of a natural view. This obvious drawback was alleviated with a wide screen monitor embedded to the inside of his cockpit and spanned the length of it. The visuals were stunning and the difference was hard to discern.

After making a hard right, he saw the pirate ship in the distance and the fighters being spat out. Then the destroyers emerged. He heard a sharp whine as his connection with Brigand was cut off. He transferred to rear view. Brigand was still there but enormous waves of fire shot out from the hangar . . . the hangar he’d just come from.

It took only moments for reality to sink in. He was alone.

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The officer in the Brigand’s command tower was horrified when the rest of the bay doors came to a standstill halfway through their cycle. He began to warn the pilots and ops when one overzealous fighter pilot tried to race the door and failed . . . his timing would’ve been flawless.

The Brigand shook from an enormous explosion and began to turn on its side.

“Commander, the hangar’s gone. Just . . .”

It was the only message that got through before the Brigand exploded into a supernova.

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“My god!”

It was the only response commander Henry Davis of the Nemesis could utter before he was thrown into a bulkhead by the immense shock waves. By then, the Nemesis had already suffered serious damage, but fortunately most of Nemesis’s fighters made it out before they too were struck down by the same fate.

A stabbing pain shot through Davis’s back. The pain wasn’t debilitating, not that he could afford to rest even if it was. None of that mattered as long as he could still walk. Pain was just a state of mind, but he was lucky to stand up. Even so, he braced himself as Nemesis lost its equilibrium and began to tilt.

With every movement Davis screamed in agony, but he soon came to a startling revelation. “We’re not dead!?”

A response came from behind a holo-terminal. “Sir . . . m . . . most of us are. We’re crippled.”

Davis’s heart sank as circuit boards all over the deck spat tongues of electric fury. “Report! What do we have?!”

“Counter . . . measures . . . some weapons, but no lock. We . . . can’t aim . . . sir.”

“Fuck! . . . Prepare to launch countermeasures and evacuate everyone possible!”

As Davis neared a console an abbreviated female voice could be heard. “All per . . . sonnel proceed to the nea . . . rest shuttle bay. All per . . . sonnel proceed . . .”

“Sir, east hangar’s . . . gone . . . west critically . . . damaged.”

“Then we’re fucked!”

“Ensign fire countermeasures!” The electrical destruction rang through the silence. “Ensign?!

. . . Ensign!!”

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Lyric saw Brigand supernova from a distance, through a swarm of black, insect sized fighters that momentarily blotted out the stars. She was awestruck. She’d never seen a cruiser taken out so fast. Then she saw Nemesis reel from a massive explosion to her east hangar. It was as if they were already aboard her and attacking from the inside out.

Remarkably, after Nemesis lost all helm control and began to float, the attack on it ceased. Why?! Why stop the attack?! Then it hit her. These were pirates! They’re going to loot her! They’d kill or imprison everyone aboard! No! What could she do with a fucking tug?! No! No more death! “Ensign, patch into their frequency. We’re surrendering.”

Everyone was stunned, but understood and obeyed.

“Yes ma’am, but that might take a while.” Lyric was fully aware of this and was about to order him to try anyway when she was interrupted. “Wha . . . ma’am, I can’t get through to anyone, they’ve jammed our transmission!”

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Ed Salley already took out two pirates. That in itself was a miracle. He still couldn’t believe he was the only survivor from Brigand . . . his home for the past three years.

He did have a little help, though. Fourteen of Nemesis’s fighters escaped before she’d fallen prey to the same fate, or nearly so. After they’d realized she was crippled, five of them flew in repetitive circles around Nemesis, protecting her. It didn’t matter! They weren’t attacking her! They were attacking the fighters themselves!

Thirty pirate fighters and two destroyers against nine of our fighters. What happened?! We had two cruisers to their one! Double their firepower, not including whatever the Cyrano tug had to offer! We’d lost! We had to run! We had to dock!

Then Ed remembered Emma. He couldn’t run. He . . . he’d join her. In an instant, all choice was stripped away, but at least he could make his death matter! In the back of his mind he recalled movies he’d seen and books he’d read . . . all the same. All telling how brave they were in numerous, varied, but similar circumstances. It was all bullshit! He faced a terror boot camp never trained him for!

Sweat masked Ed’s face and his hands shook with fright as he maneuvered his fighter through Junker’s Graveyard and a dozen other fighters heading the opposite direction. He was headed straight for Relentless!

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“Send on my mark!”

“Now!”

Julie hit the enter key.

The virus had been sent.

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Jeb Saber was still enjoying the aftermath of his virus when he noticed that the detection mines had stopped firing. Then the laser mines shut down.

Immediately, Saber punched up his holo-terminal and swore. “Fucking tug!!”

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Ed Salley was surprised to see the pirate ship stop attacking, but he didn’t care. He veered around a large hunk of debris and finally had a clear path to the cruiser. He’d come around in a large arc to face the rear of the ship . . . unconventional and undefended.

He lined up with the vessel’s propulsion system. It should be in the same location. Cruisers are generally alike, regardless of model.

Salley locked in his trajectory and hit full thrusters, firing an arsenal of weapons the whole time. The beautiful computer voice rang up over his speakers. “Warning, impact in 34 seconds. Warning impact in 28 seconds . . .”

The words no longer mattered; Salley heard only the voice.

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Lyric saw the small star form at the rear of the enemy cruiser. She knew it was the propulsion system. She knew the cruiser’s engines were failing. She honored the fighter pilot she’d never met with a salute.

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By the time the engines were cold, Cyrano had taken serious damage from the enemy fighters.

All the coalition’s fighters had been destroyed, but they’d taken their toll. Amazingly, only twenty-one pirate fighters and one destroyer remained to pull into the orbiting cruiser.

Lieutenant commander Lyric Hadley surrendered her crippled vessel to save what remained of her crew . . . a mere eight people. Cyrano and her survivors were brought aboard the cruiser with a tractor beam.

After an hour of tracking down the source, Jeb Saber eliminated Lyric’s virus and restored weapons control. However, Relentless’s engines would be down for days, if not weeks. Captain Krantz was victorious, yet trapped.

After a day of painstaking work the survivors aboard Nemesis were brought over, including commander Henry Davis. The Nemesis survivors totaled 53 out of a crew of 566. The taser battles to seize these survivors cost even more lives, both pirate and Coalition.

Spare parts were also brought over from Nemesis, via destroyer, to repair Relentless’s propulsion system.

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Time was of the essence. Soon the three remaining ships from Operation Ambush would be missed.