* * *
“She’s slowed down, boys! Now to the boats and let’s at her! She’s fat and ripe! We eat good off her tonight!” The commander made a smacking sound with his lips as he ordered his men to the scullers, looking into the monitor at the luscious prize in his sites, the third since the MoonDust. It was almost four times the size of his lugger, with a round and bulbous hull that reminded him of a ripe melon. He chuckled at the thought of a big watermelon, and him with the knife to open its rich belly.
In moments, the largest of the scullers was away and pressing with speed toward its hapless victim some three or four furlongs away. The commander was on the bridge, preparing to board the last sculler out, when the navigator reported, “It’s going larboard! It’s turnin’ broadside!”
The commander ran to the forward observation window, reaching it just in time to see a tiny, blinding light flash from the hull of the opposing ship. Instantly, the lead sculler vaporized in a searing ball of flame, showering the other scullers with white-hot pieces of shrapnel no larger than marbles.
In a flurry, the other scullers broke off their advance and attempted to return to the home ship. The navigator, who had been watching through the monitor, having a close-up view of the other ship, started shouting, “They got a rail gun! It’s a goddamned rail gun!”
“Full back, boys! Give her full back, I say!” The commander screamed at the pilot. “Lock her down and close the ports! Back full, you slime! Get us away! And fast!”
The aged Stasis ship groaned under the labors pressed upon it. Those in the scullers were putting on speed to return to the now retreating ship. One can only imagine their dismay when they saw the portals close as the lugger started picking up speed. But it was to no avail.
In seconds, another tiny flash came from the opposing ship, this time farther astern. A shudder ran down the length of the pirates’ vessel. Lights flickered and went out. Steerage systems failed as doors blew off the control panels. The commander raced to starboard and peered out the window. Looking back along his ship, he saw a huge tangle of metal and a gaping hole where the main engine battery once was.
“Steerage is gone, sir!” The pilot cried. “The hull’s breached to the stern and we lost communication with the larboard engine crew.”
The ship was now a dead fish, adrift in a black, cosmic ocean. The hunter was now the hunted. They were paralyzed, helpless, and not even able to bring any weapons to bear on their enemy. The commander watched to see the other ship slowly turn and head straight for them. It should take a few minutes to re-energize their rail guns and draw up across from them and fire another salvo. He turned and ran from the bridge, racing aft toward the ship’s boarding deck where the remaining sculler sat waiting for him.
“Abandon ship!” He shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared down the ladder and through the bulkhead door, slamming it behind him. With any luck, he’d be away before the enemy could fire another shot.
The crew on the bridge had no time to ponder the commander’s abandoning them. Another flash of light came from the approaching ship, this time from its nose. The shock of surprise at never having seen a rail gun affixed facing forward in any ship had only begun to show on their faces when the destructive force hit. They felt their vessel shudder when the iron and lead-lined mendelevium projectile started disintegrating from the impact on the forward hull two decks below the bridge. They watched in awe and horror as it went on its destructive rampage through the bowels of the ship.
Although a radioactive blaze was created when the lead and iron of the bullet’s outer casing ruptured, incinerating anyone in forward decks below, its speed of travel was so fast that the major explosive power didn’t ignite until the pellet had passed better than halfway the vessel’s length, unleashing its full might just beneath the boarding deck. With a rush of excited energy, the back third of the Stasis Pirate’s vessel was engulfed in a series of violent explosions, first from the bullet, as the temperature activated the mendelevium’s critical mass, then as fuel cells and munitions went up in a roar and fury. The aft section disappeared in a ball of fire, scattering its remains in every direction.
Nearly breathless from his running escape, the commander was but two paces away and reaching for the opened door of the sculler when the consuming inferno enveloped him. In an instant, he and the others in the shuttle were dissolved into nothing. Whatever else remained of the shattered sculler was blown through the disintegrating hull into space. In less than a heartbeat, one small projectile no larger than a child’s fist had extinguished all life on board the pirate vessel, save the crew on the command bridge.
In the now lightless, soon-to-be tomb, the hapless crew watched as the huge enemy ship opened its lower bays and half a dozen small fighters dropped into view. In only minutes, the remaining scullers were disabled or destroyed.
For over an hour, anxious eyes peered out at the surrounding activity through windows that were slowly icing up. Life support systems were down and the cabin temperature was rapidly dropping. When the remaining crew saw salvage craft exit the opposing ship, their hopes momentarily rose. Soon, though, they realized that no one was attempting a rescue. In fact, nobody bothered to check to see if anyone was still alive aboard the lugger.
There would be no rescue today or any other day unless they secured their own. That was impossible. There was no escape. The rear bulkhead door now opened into space, as did the forward hatch. There was still another deck above the bridge, but the pressure gage on the hatch indicated a hull breach in that chamber. As the dirty, chill air fell to near freezing, so went the spirits of the crewmembers trapped within. Cries of dismay coupled with curses and oaths filled the room. These very same people who had callously snuffed out the lives of many helpless men and women while laughing at their pleadings for mercy were unable to accept their own deserved demise.
Shouts of anger and despair coupled with sounds of sobbing and whimpering could be heard in the headsets of those listening on the other ship. “So go the souls of brave warriors.” Replied one disgusted operator, as he pulled off his listening device and turned off the receiver.
Although parts of the Stasis Pirate vessel had drifted far into space, much of it was still retrievable. Some salvage craft gathered the larger debris, while others probed through the wreckage. The disabled scullers were emptied of their lifeless cargos and hauled through huge doors aft the opposing ship, while parts and pieces of the lugger which were of interest found a home in its forward hold. The remainder of the flotsam and jetsam was gathered together near the still intact forward part of the pirate ship. When the work was finished, fighters and salvage craft all returned to their mother ship.
From the freezing command bridge, all eyes were trained on the huge vessel that only a little while ago reminded them of a luscious melon. It turned away and slowly drifted into the distance, those eyes continuing to watch until it was little more than a glittering speck, looking like a twinkling star. And then they watched no more.
When sufficiently away, another captain, on his own command bridge, gave an order to an attending officer. She peered out the porthole at the distant pirate ship. The attending officer and other observers on the bridge saw a blinding white light flash across the captain’s face as she squinted. In seconds, the white light faded to gold, then to red, and finally disappeared altogether. Admiral Zabinea Tizkertinah faced her helmsman, smiling garish. “Better is the day when we leave our work to the bitter grimness. An empty web disturbs not the sleeping spider...”