Outlaw Galaxy 2: Fugitive Among the Stars, Sample Chapters

Captain Corris Thyne calmly sipped the steaming chaskul and carefully placed his cup back on its saucer. As he moved his hand away, he noted with satisfaction that there was barely a ripple across the surface of the milky white liquid.

Thyne strained to swallow, forcing the bitter, frothy liquid down his throat.

Now, if only Liam could find a way to make the chaskul palatable. How can the humans drink this stuff? Do they utterly lack taste buds?

Captain Thyne smiled up at Liam, who hovered beside his chair, eagerly anticipating his response. A Physhan, one of the countless human races, Liam was perhaps twenty years old, with bright pink skin and stark, fiery red hair. His clear secondary eyelids flashed shut, then opened again while his main eyelids remained wide open. The odd effect was that of an unending, unblinking stare. The secondary eyelids were an evolutionary adaptation to keep out grit from the dust storms that bombarded his desert homeland on Aelion.

Liam couldn’t yet grow a beard, one of the signs of human maturity, but he was experienced and knowledgeable when it came to starship engines. He’d proven his worth by keeping the Artheorse’s engines running to perfection. In between rebuilds and drive system calibrations, he found time to act as the ship’s cook.

Of course, that was a mixed blessing as far as Captain Thyne was concerned. His digestive tract was still in full rebellion when it came to stomaching the boy’s native cuisine.

"It’s unforgettable. Simply...unforgettable," he said, squeezing out a smile. "Thank you, Liam."

"I’m sure you come from hardy stock, I’ll give you that," Thyne quipped, thinking, The food kills the weak ones.

Then he saw the Artheorse’s pilot, "Ragz" Gotom, chuckling. Ragz was seated at the control station at the front of the bridge.

"Mr. Gotom," Thyne called out, letting a trace of irritation creep into his voice. "Status report, if you please."

The blue-skinned Braecht glanced down at his control panels before announcing, "On course, Captain Thyne. We’ll arrive at Kuttlemuir’s Rim in...approximately seventeen hours, forty-two minutes. Currently, the nearest system is Saronon, six-point-three light years away, bearing one-twelve horizontal, forty-two vertical."

"Good," the captain said, checking his wrist chrono. "We’ll be arriving at the Rim a little bit early. Excellent work, Ragz. Changing routes at the last minute hasn’t slowed us at all."

"Better to be safe, Captain," Liam added enthusiastically. "We don’t want to make it too easy for pirates to find us."

Captain Thyne was a Liegar and, true to his heritage, he was superstitious and quick to worry. To Liegars, it was dangerous to mention any mishaps that could befall a ship while in flight. Saying such a thing was a challenge, a sure way to draw the attention of the dark, mercurial forces lurking in the universe’s shadows.

It was a slip of the tongue, innocent enough some would suppose, but Thyne knew that those dark forces lurking out there would see the comment as a brag, a taunt.

The boy hadn’t meant it that way, but the harm had been done just the same. It was as if the boy had said, Come and get us, I dare you.

Captain Thyne shuddered as if someone had stepped on his grave. He stared at the young crewman.

"I appreciate your support, Liam, but let’s never speak of such things again, shall we?"

Liam backed away and looked down at the deck. "My apologies, Captain Thyne. No offense meant."

Captain Thyne glanced up at the main viewport and watched the swirling rainbow-color patterns and ripples of energy that were characteristic of hyperspace.

"Once we safely get to Kuttlemuir’s Rim, no offense will be taken," he whispered.

Thyne tried to push his thoughts away from the possible dangers but his mind rebelled and drifted back to the beginning of this run. At the time, he had been nervous, worried...no, concerned was the proper word.

Reports of pirate raids had prompted him to make a last-minute course change just before the Port of Artheorse jumped to lightspeed.

Thyne had been in this game of piloting big, almost defenseless freighters for twenty years. He’d been in dozens of battles with raiders and pirates. A few he’d won. Most he’d merely survived. He had little desire to add another skirmish to his record.

Of course, Captain Thyne knew his biggest victories had come when he’d outsmarted his enemies. They were the times he’d fooled his attackers by changing flight routes or had scared them away by arranging for an armed military escort. He had been hoping for one of those quiet, unnoticed victories on this particular passage from Shreilei to Kuttlemuir’s Rim.

Captain Corris Thyne had long ago learned to trust his instincts. In fact, his stellar record was why GPX Vardo Lines Pulsar had put him in command of the Artheorse. This lumbering old freighter—a big, bulky ship over four hundred feet long and nearly a century old—was filled to the airlocks with droids and sophisticated electronics. The cargo was worth millions of Steds.

Defenses? Just three energy cannons. The Artheorse had no fighter escorts, no assault shuttles, no heavy cannons...just three underpowered guns, barely suitable for blasting at unarmored shuttle pods much less raiding ships, and she was running out in deep space, far from the protection of GPX Vardo’s fleet of combat ships or the Frontier Rangers.

Captain Thyne knew that the Artheorse’s best hope was to run silent and hidden. Escape the notice of those who coveted his cargo.

Vardo is just cutting corners, Thyne had thought bitterly when he’d first read his mission orders. A few fighters would be a fine deterrent, but the data pushers at Vardo headquarters are more concerned with shoring up the balance sheets and trimming expenses. That means not deploying extra personnel or equipment unless absolutely necessary. Besides, if things go wrong, their heads won’t be on a platter.

Snapping back to the present, Thyne took another gulp of chaskul, trying to steady his nerves.

Raiders don’t want a fight. They’re just looking for easy pickings, he reminded himself. Unfortunately, that’s precisely what we are right now. Easy pickings.

Thyne knew that going in when he took this run. He knew the danger as soon as he received the flight plan. He felt the simmering tension and concern on the part of the crew the moment as he stepped aboard the Artheorse.

Still, he’d accepted this cargo run for several reasons. Foremost was the fact that he couldn’t afford to turn it down. He was getting older and closing in on retirement age. The last thing he needed was to be labeled a coward. Work was hard enough to find as it was. So Thyne took this assignment and hoped for the best.

The veterans like "Ragz" Gotom knew what they were doing. They were alert and ready to act.

The younger ones, like Liam, were too confident, too excited, too raw to be scared—but they’d learn.

Thyne’s mind drifted back two days. As they were waiting for permission to leave the stardocks at Shreilei, Thyne had felt that familiar gnawing sensation creep up on him. Something was wrong. Something was calling out to him, trying to warn him that danger was ahead.

"Never turn your back on advice from the spirits," his father always said. "Trust them. They know the ways of the universe."

Thyne smiled as he thought of his father. Father was also a freighter pilot, just a simple man, but he’d logged over three thousand flights without any serious incidents—no crew fatalities, no lost cargoes, no shipjackings. One couldn’t doubt a record like that.

Father was retired now. He was probably spending the day on the lake, harassing the fish.

Captain Corris Thyne had acted on those warning instincts, just as his father would have.

"Ragz, plot a new course, routing near Vashuungor Minor. Same entry and exit points," Thyne had ordered when the dock moorings released the Port of Artheorse and the ship’s thrusters pushed her away from Shreilei and towards open space.

Ragz looked at his captain, puzzled about the course change, but immediately turned to his work.

"Keep it quiet for now," Thyne remembered saying at the time. "Just get the route calculated before we reach the lightspeed jump point. I have a feeling about this...."

Pilot Ragz Gotom had served several missions with Captain Thyne, going back nearly six years. Ragz had good reason to trust his captain and his mysterious "feelings."

With the new route calculated—a completely different path to Kuttlemuir’s Rim, far removed from the flight plan registered with the stardock’s flight controllers—Thyne relaxed a little.

Thyne knew there were too many possible loose ends back at the stardocks: cargo handlers, starport controllers, even employees of GPX Vardo. Any of them could know the scheduled travel route. A group of raiders would pay handsomely for that travel route information since they’d stand to make a fortune should they be able to capture the Artheorse and steal her cargo. A bribe of a few thousand Steds was a lot of money to a cargo hauler who tossed modules around in zero gravity for fifteen or twenty Steds an hour. A pile of money could tempt any starport controller who wanted a few of the nicer things in life. It could even loosen the lips of a mid-level Vardo corporate drone who’s realized he has nowhere to go but down, who has a house he can’t afford and a family that spends money faster than he can make it.

No, there are too many people who could sell out this cargo ship, Thyne thought as he watched Ragz furiously tapping away at the lightspeed computer, calculating a new hyperspace jump route.

Thyne could hear the raiders’ sales pitch in his mind, picturing a seedy broker holding a bag full of Steds, his voice low as he won over his informant. "Dozens of ships disappear every day, my friend. There’s deep-space collisions, mechanical failures and, of course, pirate raids. No one will notice—or care about—the disappearance of just one more ship. Besides, the crew won’t die."

Now the broker would flash a reassuring smile. "Only the stupid ones die, friend. The smart ones surrender. They’re returned to their families in a few days. Here’s a few thousand Steds. Don’t let it bother your conscience. Go buy your wife that new dress she’s been eyeing. Take her out to a nice dinner. Now, the ship’s route, my friend...."

Over the years, Thyne had been approached with similar offers. He knew how tempting the money could be. He knew how even the most elaborate safeguards could be overcome if enough money was thrown around.

So, in truth, Thyne knew he had a target on his back from the moment the Artheorse lumbered out from Shreilei’s starship yards. As they pushed out into space, Thyne nervously reviewed Ragz’s revised route and checked his chrono. One minute before the jump, he’d nodded to Ragz and the new coordinates were loaded into the lightspeed computer.

That will throw the maraudhounds off the scent, Thyne remembered thinking at the time.

The jump to lightspeed had been smooth, without incident. There was the standard shudder, the vague feeling of falling into a deep, deep hole as the stars were blotted out by a brilliant flash of light, and finally the smooth roar of the Artheorse’s lightspeed engines cycling to full power. Through the viewport, Thyne and the others on the bridge watched the multi-colored streams of red and blue, yellow and silver and every other color imaginable, patterns forming then eroding away in fractions of a second as the chaos of hyperspace swirled around them. It had been a smooth, flawless jump.

The only discrepancy in it all was Communications Officer Clire’s announcement that he’d detected a stray transcomm signal—a coded signal, just a brief burst—originating near the Artheorse in the scant seconds immediately before the lightspeed jump. Thyne wanted to dismiss it as a transcomm flutter. Nothing to be concerned about.

That was thirty-five hours ago, Thyne thought as he looked around the bridge. Just over seventeen hours to go until we reach Kuttlemuir’s Rim. Come on. Just a little while longer.

All had been going well. That feeling of imminent danger had faded. That little voice of warning had been quiet.

"We don’t want to make it too easy for pirates to find us," he’d said, not knowing any better, not meaning any harm, but still, he’d challenged the fates. Thyne shuddered. He knew what it felt like to stare death in the face.

Captain Corris Thyne tried to calm down. Nothing had gone wrong, he reminded himself. Besides, only he and Ragz knew the new lightspeed route. Not even the company knew where they were. There was no time for a traitor—should there even be one among the ship’s tiny crew—to pass word to partners off-ship. There was no chance that raiders could find them.

He glanced at Liam and wanted to reprimand him, but the young man still looked skittish, afraid of his captain’s wrath. He’s just a kid. No need to scold him now. Besides, we’re safe. No one knows we’re here. Corris, you’re just being superstitious in your old age.

Thyne grabbed his cup. He sipped the chaskul, then took a deep, full drink of the bitter white beverage and swallowed. Next time, I’m bringing my own firemead from home no matter how expensive it is.

But as he thought about it, something in that stray transcomm signal bothered Thyne. It was a high-density, short-burst signal. Ordinarily that would be of no concern. Space, especially in heavily trafficked systems, was full of such transcomm signals. But Clire had said the signal was close to the Artheorse.

What if that signal was from the Artheorse? What if there was a data transponder in the lightspeed computer? And what if it was linked to a transcomm signaler, coded to transmit the lightspeed computer’s coordinates as soon as the lightspeed drive was activated?

Thyne looked down as he heard the cup clack, clack on the saucer. His hand trembled, almost of its own accord. And, back there at Shreilei, if there was a ship out there with a transcomm sniffer keyed to the signaler’s frequency....

The Artheorse bucked and lurched as if it had smashed into a wall. Liam crashed to the deck with a cry of surprise and pain. Captain Thyne, Ragz Gotom and Clire, safely secured in their chairs by their restraint belts, all held onto their consoles, steadying themselves as the Artheorse was buffeted back and forth.

Thyne watched the saucer and cup shoot forward, seemingly in slow motion. A stream of milky white chaskul arced through the air, splattering across Clire’s transcomm and sensor consoles. The cup and saucer tumbled to the deck and shattered, fragments bouncing through the air as they careened towards the main viewport at the front of the bridge.

Thyne’s eyes rose to the viewport. A flash of white light blotted out the colored swirls of lightspeed. Then, as his stomach threatened to rise up his throat and he was overwhelmed by a sense of falling, falling long and far forever…Thyne saw black, star-filled space.

Directly ahead of them drifted dozens of asteroids. That could only mean one thing.

Clire checked the sensors. "Captain, the route ahead is blocked! Asteroids forced the lightspeed drive to disengage."

"Ragz, plot a course around the blockade," Thyne screamed. "Get us clear! Engage the lightspeed drive as soon as possible! I don’t care about the vector, just get us out of here!"

Thyne felt the Artheorse’s sublight engines power up. The ship vibrated under the strain and yet the view changed only slightly as the bulky freighter tried to turn away from the asteroids.

We won’t have time to get out of here, Thyne thought, panic rising inside him.

"We’ll be clear of the asteroid field in seven minutes," Ragz reported, his voice steady and calm.

"Incoming ships!" Clire screamed. "Three fighters to port, three to starboard, closing fast! There’s also a small freighter to port, just out of range of our cannons. They’re hailing us and demanding our unconditional surrender. It’s their command ship."

Thyne paused only a second. He knew what would happen to the crew if he surrendered. They would all face death. Raiders couldn’t leave any witnesses alive to identify them. There would be no surrender. Their only chance was to make a run for open space and hope to jump to lightspeed, even if it was a blind jump.

Thyne keyed the Artheorse’s internal transcomm. "Gunners to energy cannons! We’re not going down without a fight!"

The Port of Artheorse’s Chief Gunner, Devin "DeadEye" MagArgoll, raced through the freighter’s cold halls, skidded to a halt and then climbed up the ladder to his gun turret. He settled into the padded seat and frantically pulled on his transcomm headset, flipping rows of switches to bring the power generators and lasing barrels to life.

Devin felt the energy cannon’s machinery shudder around him as power coursed through the weapon. His holographic heads-up targeting display projected images into the air directly in front of him. Range numbers popped up while distant blue specks were highlighted by brilliant, neon blue outlines. Those specks would be the enemy, Devin knew as he watched the attack fighters crisscross space. They were still out of range of his weapon, but they were coming.

The Port of Artheorse’s shipboard communications blared in his left ear. Captain Thyne was screaming about incoming raiders.

Like that’s a surprise, Devin thought as he finished pre-battle system checks.

Devin knew there was going to be trouble when the Artheorse’s lightspeed drives ground to a halt and the ship bellyflopped back to normal space, sending the cards and wager chips flying across the pilots’ cabin. He and the Artheorse’s other two gunners, Dvir and Stryer, ran for their cannons even before the order was given.

I really could use the money, he thought, wincing at the thought of losing the stack of Steds that he’d built up. Four hundred Steds! When’s the next time the cards will be that kind to me? And now? Nothing!

Devin pulled on his gloves and searched open space as the gun turret circled around, satisifed that the rotation servos underneath the turret were working smoothly. Devin’s turret was mounted near the Artheorse’s nose and he had the duty of protecting the forward half of the ship. His partners, Jascho Dvir and Bethailia Stryer, had the tail guns, Dvir on top and Stryer on the bottom side. They simply had to protect the engines.

Of course, that only sounds easy until you realize there’s six fighters picking away at us, Devin thought as he looked out across the darkness. The view is spectacular but it’s always the same. Big, black, endless space.

Off to his right, Devin saw the cluster of asteroids and a small, nondescript cargo freighter far off in the distance. Directly ahead of him, three fighters were headed straight for the Artheorse. They would be in range in a few seconds. His targeting screen showed another trio of fighters behind him, racing towards the Artheorse’s tail.

Devin cued up the transcomm. "Stryer, Dvir, you boys ready to roust a few raiders?"

Stryer’s voice whispered silky smooth. "Sir, I’m ready...and remember, I’m not a boy."

Not much chance of that happening, Bethailia, Devin thought. That’ll get her riled up—not that she needs it. She’s already a better shot than I am. Devin’s fingers flexed as he grabbed the controls, his thumbs hovering over the bright red firing studs. No, she’s not better...but she is in my league....

Communications Officer Clire keyed in. "Gunners, fighters are incoming. Twenty seconds until they engage us."

Devin keyed his transcomm. "Already have them on visual, Clire. We’ll keep ‘em plenty busy. Count on it."

"Hey, boss, time to earn some bonus money!" Dvir shouted over the transcomm, referring to the bonus payments Vardo offered for taking out any vessel attacking one of its ships.

Devin watched as the Artheorse pulled away from the distant freighter and the asteroids. That’s gotta be their command ship, Devin thought as he studied the unremarkable freighter. He saw the freighter’s engines flash as she maneuvered out in open space, beyond the reach of his guns.

Come on in for a closer look, Devin thought. I’ll show you who you’re messing with.

He keyed his transcomm. "Gunners, keep your eyes open. Protect our engines. We only need a few minutes until we can clear the asteroid field and jump to lightspeed."

Devin checked his sensors. Six fighters plus a command freighter...six and a half minutes?

Devin rotated his gun turret, turning to face the Artheorse’s nose. Three of the vicious-looking fighters roared in towards him. The fighters were a deep blue in color, with long, wide fuselages. Long fins climbed from their noses, rising up at a steep angle, forming a "V" shape. At the end of each fin was a large, powerful sublight engine, round and oversized compared to the thin wing that held it in place. The engines’ placement, far from the fighters’ main body, greatly enhanced their maneuverability in space combat.

The fighters’ cockpits were dark and set far back from the motors, molded into the tail of each ship. A pair of energy cannons were neatly tucked underneath each fighter’s nose. Armored tubes ran from the nose cannons almost back to the cockpit, nearly thirty feet long, almost the entire length of the fighter. The tubes were probably packed with power generators, cyclers and lasing cores—the energy cannons must be heavily modified—and Devin guessed that they packed a significant punch.

Towards the tail of each fighter was a thick support strut, like a stubby wing, stretching out from the left side. At the end of the wing was a triangular missile pod, large enough to carry several missiles.

As Devin processed the information, his slim hopes collapsed. They’re heavy assault fighters.

Devin checked his range meter, counting down the seconds as the fighters closed to within range of his cannons. Six heavy assault fighters…opposed only by the three energy cannons aboard the Artheorse.

"Hey, DeadEye," Stryer shouted, calling Devin’s nickname over the transcomm. "You see how those fighters are armed? They’re not kidding around."

"No, they’re not," Devin answered. "Remember, we just need a little over six minutes and then we’re out of here. Just hold them off!"

That’ll be easier said than done, won’t it? Devin asked himself as his gray eyes scanned the turret’s sensor screens.

His fellow gunners were silent. They weren’t buying it. They knew just as well as he did that they were facing long odds.

The lead fighter was headed straight for Devin. It unleashed a hailstorm of energy bolts. Dozens of red energy pellets shot from the fighter’s cannons.

The energy pellets reached across space and slammed into the Artheorse, slicing through the freighter’s energy shields. Bright flashes of yellow-white light lit up the ship’s hull as plumes of flame and bursts of molten metal fragments sprayed into space. The energy bolts gnawed their way into the ship’s defensive armor plating.

The other two fighters peeled away from their leader, fanning out to the sides of the Artheorse, unleashing strafing runs that triggered rows of the fearsome fireballs. In a matter of seconds, space was filled with glowing metal fragments chipped from the freighter’s armor plating. As the explosions died out, the Artheorse’s hull was left pockmarked and scarred.

Devin spun his weapon to focus on the lead fighter as it tried to roll to the right and away from the reach of his energy cannon. He saw the fighter’s port engine flash, vectors aiming jets of thrust downward, sending the fighter rolling as it spun down and away from the Artheorse, but Devin’s eyes were keen. He glimpsed the underside of the fighter for just a second. Relying on reflexes honed in a dozen battles, he pressed the cannon’s firing stud.

Shimmering yellow-orange bolts of energy burst from his energy cannon. The energy bolts found their marks, striking the enemy fighter’s belly. A burst of white-hot light and flame lit up space as the fighter exploded into thousands of metal shards. The fighter’s port engine, sheared from its now vaporized wing, tumbled away into space before exploding.

Devin spun his energy cannon turret a quarter-circle towards the Artheorse’s port side, trying to track another fighter. Already, this ship had fired on the Artheorse, the energy beams digging into the freighter’s hull with deadly accuracy. Devin felt his ship shudder and heard explosions echo up into his turret from inside the Artheorse. Scraps of the Artheorse’s armor plating flecked away from the hull, leaving a cloud of metal fragments hanging in space.

Devin searched for the fighter, which now seemed to have ducked to the underside of the Artheorse.

Devin looked out, searching for the other enemy fighters, but none of them were near him. Instead, the attacking fighters were clustered around the Artheorse’s tail.

They’re going after our engines. Of course. They want to disable us and board us! It was a standard raider battle plan.

Devin stared towards the rear of his ship and saw a torrent of energy beams shoot from the topside cannon. Then there was a distant explosion. Another enemy ship was gone.

"Thanks, DeadEye! I’m telling you, though, it’s crazy out here! There’s a lot of traffic…and a lot of energy flying around us!"

Dvir was not prone to panic, but his voice betrayed his nervousness. Devin watched, feeling helpless as a shower of red energy pellets descended upon the Artheorse from the four fighters that circled around the freighter’s engines. Devin cursed under his breath as he watched Dvir aim and fire, each time his reflexes off by a fraction of a second as the enemy fighters dove and circled around the Artheorse’s tail. His shots raced harmlessly off into space.

Dvir’s rattled, Devin thought. Rattled and scared, and that’s throwing off his concentration.

There was only silence as more bursts of energy shot into space from Dvir’s cannon. Again they missed the enemy fighters.

"I’m trying, boss," Dvir finally screamed, his frustration coming through.

"You can do this," Devin reassured him. "Just take your time. They’ll come into your sights. Pick your shots!"

Devin stared out into space. The Artheorse lumbered along the edge of the asteroid field, pushing for open space as fast as her thrusters would allow. Still, she was a large, slow freighter and burdened with a full cargo. That much mass took a while to get moving.

The enemy fighters easily kept pace with her. They had their target surrounded. For the raiders, it was just a matter of disabling the Artheorse before she could clear the asteroids and jump to lightspeed.

Devin saw a flash of movement to his right. He brought his energy cannon to bear just as one of the raider fighters climbed above the lip of the Artheorse and started a strafing run. Angry red energy pellets danced along the Artheorse’s hull, explosions ripping along its surface in a dotted line that ran up the port side and across the top of the ship.

Devin saw his chance just as the fighter tried to twist, spin down and dive out of view. His fingers reacted without thought, jamming the firing stud. Yellow-orange energy beams flashed across space, slamming into the nose of the enemy fighter.

The fighter’s nose disintegrated in a powerful explosion, the engine struts tumbling away, seemingly in slow motion. Then the energy blasts detonated the engines’ fuel lines. Massive explosions rippled up the struts, reaching the oversize engines, which exploded in beautiful but terrible twin blasts of light and flame. The fighter’s main fuselage, lacking engines, spun and tumbled, propelled away by the explosion that had sheared off the ship’s nose. The cockpit section spun over and over, rolling on a trajectory that would launch it off into deep space.

You’d better hope your rescue teams saw that or else you’ll be drifting out there for a very long time, Devin thought with wicked glee.

Devin looked for the remaining three enemy fighters, but he was too slow. Directly above him, one of the fighters barreled down towards the topside of the Artheorse, racing down at full throttle. The energy cannons spat the deadly red pellets, followed immediately by a volley of six missiles. The energy pellets smashed into the Artheorse directly amidships, triggering brilliant flashes of white-yellow light as they overwhelmed and burned out the shield generators. Molten metal fragments, cut from the freighter’s armor plating, spun into space.

Devin flinched in anticipation of the inevitable. The missiles homed in on the newly opened wound on the Artheorse’s hull and slammed into the freighter. The blasts rocked the ship violently. Devin watched in horror as the hull seemed to peel away. Layers of armor flaked off and spun away from the ship as explosions burst from inside the Artheorse’s cargo bays. Cargo modules spun out into space. A stream of debris burst from the ship, propelled by a geyser of energy that vaguely looked like an exploding volcano.

Devin knew that the Artheorse was badly damaged. Now, there was no way the freighter could risk a jump to lightspeed since the stresses of such a jump would fracture the hull and cause the ship to splinter into pieces.

As the explosions died down, fires from inside the Port of Artheorse were snuffed out by the loss of air. The missile attacks had been devastating, slicing the freighter’s hull wide open. Cargo containers tumbled into space.

Inside his gun turret, Chief Gunner Devin "DeadEye" MagArgoll felt the temperature plummet. He gasped and could not catch his breath.

Then the turret’s blast door slammed shut, trapping him inside the weapon, but quite probably saving his life. Simple sensors in the turret sealed the blast door as soon as they detected a drop in air pressure, indicative of a hull breach. In principle, the system protected the rest of the ship should the turret be destroyed or sheared away in battle.

However, this time, it was the Artheorse itself that had been breached. Air was being sucked from throughout the ship and out into space. The turret’s blast door now created an airtight seal between Devin and the rest of the ship, preserving a limited air supply for him even as the rest of the ship was being drained.

Emergency bulkheads must have been sealing across the ship to protect other compartments from the breached cargo hold. With luck, crewmembers in the breached compartments would have emergency breathers and vacuum suits close by.

Devin’s turret had a thirty minute emergency air supply, but this battle would be decided long before the air was gone. Either the raiders would be defeated and the Artheorse’s crew would suit up for emergency repairs...or the Artheose would be defeated and the ship would be in the hands of the raiders.

And our crew? Devin knew what fate lie ahead of them if they were captured. Sucking vacuum’s a better way to leave this existence than to be a prisoner of those raiders.

As Devin’s mind raced, he saw another of the attacking fighters in the distance, behind the Artheorse’s engines and closing in fast. At the tail of the Artheorse, Dvir, in the top turret, spun around to attack the incoming fighter but he was not fast enough.

The enemy fighter’s energy cannons flashed. The volley of energy pellets struck Dvir’s cannon with unerring accuracy. A ball of flame consumed the turret. When the brief flash died out, there was only a melted, charred stump of metal on the Artheorse’s hull. Debris drifted through space. The turret was gone.

"No!" Devin screamed, but it did not matter. He didn’t have time to think about how much he would miss Jascho Dvir, nor even to pause to say goodbye. He couldn’t think about how things would never be the same without him in the gunners’ lounge, ready to wager on anything or share a bawdy joke.

What mattered now was that the fate of the Artheorse lay in the hands of Devin and Stryer, the bottom-side tail gunner. It was just the two of them and they had to destroy the three remaining enemy fighters.

The fighter that had killed Dvir angled low as it raced above the Artheorse, closing to point blank range and firing again with its energy cannons. It unleashed a volley of six assault missiles, headed straight for the Artheorse’s engines. The missiles struck home. Explosions expanded in rolling balls of flame as the Artheorse shook, this time much more violently. Devin would have been thrown out of his gunnery chair had he not secured his restraint belts.

The violent tremors faded, but the Artheorse had started to spin, seemingly sliding sideways in space, now drifting towards the asteroids.

It’s over, Devin thought. Our engines are destroyed. There’s no escape.

Devin’s anger surged. He wanted to destroy that fighter, to blow it out of the stars...but something made him pause. He glanced down at his targeting scanners. The lead raider ship, their command freighter, was closing.

Devin checked his weapon. His power generators were off-line. They were probably destroyed when the engines exploded, most likely due to energy surges backing up into the Artheorse’s main power systems. The Artheorse was dead, adrift in space.

Yet Devin’s weapon still stored some power in its cyclers. He checked his gun’s meters.

He watched as the raiders’ freighter closed in on the Artheorse. The enemy ship eased in close to his own vessel. Rage overwhelmed him.

He examined the enemy ship. It was just a civilian freighter, perhaps one hundred feet long, and fitted with half a dozen external docking tubes for the fighters. The freighter’s weapons were minimal, just two light cannons. Most importantly, the ship appeared to have little armor plating.

Devin watched the remaining three fighters circle around the Artheorse while their command freighter cozied up to his own vessel. The enemy freighter was now just fifty feet away, close enough to extend her boarding tubes and clamp onto the Artheorse so the raiders’ boarding parties could force their way aboard.

One blast, Devin thought as he bit his lip. Just one. I have to make it count.

The enemy ship drifted ahead of him. He had a clear shot at her hull...but taking out her weapons or blasting at the hull would be futile. Such an attack would be an irritant, nothing more.

Devin wanted to make them pay for what they had done to him, to his ship...to his friend.

For Dvir...for all of us, Devin thought. He watched and waited. In just a few seconds, the enemy freighter’s engines would be in range. If I’m going down, I’m going to take them with me.

Devin sat in his gunnery seat, his transcomm silent because the Artheorse’s internal communications were out. He was trapped in this turret, alone with his thoughts. He knew that he would not survive this battle. At least he would fight down to his last breath....

The attacking freighter drifted closer. And then his target hovered into view. He took a deep breath and carefully lined up the engines in his sights, taking care to minimize his gun’s movements so that no one aboard the attacking freighter would notice that his energy cannon was still active.

Then he pressed the firing stud. The four orange-yellow energy blasts crossed the gap between the Artheorse and the enemy freighter in an instant. The energy blasts smashed into the freighter’s engines, now unprotected by the shields, which had been lowered now that the battle appeared to be over.

The explosion was so bright that Devin had to shield his eyes and turn away. The primary blast sent pieces of molten metal rocketing out into the void. A series of smaller explosions—power surges and overloads from his precise attack—cascaded through the enemy ship’s engine decks, burrowing deep inside the freighter. Gouts of flame shot from the engines’ exhaust nozzles.

Pieces of metal, once intricate engine parts but now just melted slag, tumbled chaotically in space. The attacking raider freighter, like the Artheorse, now drifted, dead in space.

The two freighters, both crippled, rolled and pitched, drifting apart, unable to alter their courses.

A few seconds later, a message drone shot from the Artheorse. The small, missile-shaped craft raced off into space, leaving the crippled freighters behind. One of the raider fighters turned to chase the drone, frantically trying to destroy it.

The drone raced away from the battle site, the fighter closing the gap. The fighter fired, its energy pellets reaching out towards the drone. Just one of the pellets struck the drone, but it was only a glancing shot as a tiny flash of light dug into the drone’s hull.

Trailing a tail of white energy, the drone disappeared in a small, sudden burst of white light as it jumped into hyperspace.

Get help! Devin prayed, but he knew the effort was probably hopeless. The drone had been launched in a rush, probably with no time to plot a course to a settled system. Captain Thyne had probably just recorded a plea for help, loaded the Artheorse’s current coordinates, entered hastily calculated destination coordinates into the drone’s lightspeed computer, and launched the drone while the attacking freighter was preoccupied with Devin’s attack. Devin suspected the drone would just shoot off into open space and never be heard from again.

If there’s any luck at all in the universe, now’s the time for a big payoff. Come on...get help, Devin silently pleaded to whomever might be listening, hoping that somehow, someone would receive that distress signal and send a rescue ship.

Then Devin MagArgoll saw one of the three remaining enemy fighters turn towards his now powerless weapon turret. The fighter angrily bore down on Devin’s energy cannon, obviously identifying it as the weapon that had disabled the raiders’ base ship.

Devin watched the fighter close in on him and checked his weapon’s energy meters. His cannon was out of power. He was helpless.

He closed his eyes and turned his head away. He tried to make peace with the universe.

Outlaw Galaxy 2: Fugitive Among the Stars is available as an ebook (HTML format) for only $2 (US funds).

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AUTHOR'S NOTE
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OUTLAW GALAXY BOOKS
Read the latest adventures in the Outlaw Galaxy saga! Outlaw Galaxy 2: Fugitive Among the Stars and Outlaw Galaxy 3: Hunter's Truth and Other Tales are now available. To learn more or read sample chapters.

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If you enjoyed these Outlaw Galaxy stories, any contribution to the Tip Jar is welcome, whether it’s a dime or a quarter for a short story or a buck or two for a novel. Your support and encouragement is greatly appreciated and enables me to keep on writing and publishing Outlaw Galaxy stories. Thank you!

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OUTLAW GALAXY EBOOKS
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Here's my thinking: They're a dollar or two. Each book provides hours of entertainment. And Outlaw Galaxy ebooks are customer friendly, so you can use the ebook the way you want to.

Compare that to other items: Novels run about $8 these days. Comic books are $3-4 an issue. Don't get me started on the price of gas or a movie.

As for other publishers' ebooks? Many come with DRM to prevent you from making backup copies or printing. There are format issues: Will this ebook work on my computer or portable device? Not to mention that many publishers' ebooks are much more expensive.

But if a buck or two is over your budget, get some friends to chip in. Have them to toss in a dime or a quarter...it adds up. Then read and share.

These ebooks are shipped without any form of DRM, so you can make backup copies, print, and reformat for other devices such as PDAs and cell phones. And I think it's cool if you want to share them with a few friends.

You don't see movie studios or record labels doing that, do you?

No. They sue people (even little old ladies who don't actually own computers). They treat their customers like criminals. They secretly install spyware and rootkits that can destroy your computer. They tell you that you're not allowed to make back-up copies of stuff you've already paid for. They want to make "piracy" a crime punishable with enormous fines and jail time.

Me? I'm trying to be reasonable. I offer Outlaw Galaxy ebooks at a fair price, in an easy-to-use HTML format that can be read by any web browser, and with no DRM. I expressly give you permission to print them, make backup-copies, and format them for use on other devices.

And I think it's cool if you share them with a few friends. I discovered most of my favorite authors by word-of-mouth from friends or by borrowing from libraries, so it's okay with me if you slip a few copies to other people who'll enjoy these Outlaw Galaxy stories. Just don't sell these stories, make any changes or post them on other websites.

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To the Stars!

-- Bill Smith

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: © 2009 by Bill Smith. Permission granted to copy this story for personal use and limited sharing as outlined in this Author's Note. This work may not be altered, resold, or reposted on other websites without the author's permission.

Author reserves all other rights, including (but not limited to) derivative works, adaptations, dramatizations, licensing, merchandise, and subsequent stories in any form using Outlaw Galaxy characters and situations. For further information or commercial permissions, contact the author at bill@billsmithbooks.com.

END AUTHOR'S NOTE