The Broken Peace
Anatolian Science Vessel Preston Brooking

“Captain Hathcox, we’re approaching Planet 128. We will achieve high orbit in thirty minutes,” Helsman Durbin called as the small ship exited the FTL jump. The Preston Brooking’s bridge buzzed with excitement as they approached the small planet only recently discovered by the Anatolian Deep Space Exploration Agency. The crew moved with brisk, purposeful strides as they entered the distant planet’s sensor range.

“Good, Helmsman Truman, begin preliminary scans of the atmosphere. EXO, double-check the planetary probes. We’re the first humans to discover this world, so let’s not have any technical screwups.”

“On it, Captain,” he said as he glanced at the viewscreen. “Marvelous sight, isn’t it, George?”

“Yes, it is. Beautiful world. Let’s make sure that it has an atmosphere we can breathe. Also, make sure all decontamination protocols are followed.”

“Initial scans are coming in, Captain,” Durbin announced. “Nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide, argon. All within habitable ranges.”

“Any signs of indigenous lifeforms?” asked Executive Officer Peterson.

“Nothing yet, sir; we’re still too far out.”

“Patience, Mike, we’ve got time.”

“I know, but it’s not every day you find-”

“Captain, we’ve got a contact astern. It just came out of nowhere,” called Sensor Operations Tech Gillis from her station.

“On screen,” Peterson ordered.

“What the hell is that?” Durbin said more to himself than to anyone around him.

“It’s a Phoenix class light cruiser. I haven’t seen one of those in thirty years,” Hathcox said. “Raise shields and put the ship on alert. Helm calculate an escape vector.”

“Phoenix class was a Sparitartes ship. Are they still using them?”

“I don’t think so. We may have just kicked over a nest of pirates.”

“Sir, she’s powering up her weapons. Two missile launches detected; estimate two minutes until impact.”

“Prepare countermeasures.”

The missiles achieved lock as the science vessel attempted to evade the weapons. Science vessels were not designed for combat operations and lacked the maneuverability of a military ship. Likewise, there were limited shielding and electronic countermeasures aboard, so running was the best option. All the while, the FTL drive spooled for a short jump.

The electronic countermeasures launched as the ship veered sharply in the opposite direction. In response, one of the missiles broke off its pursuit and exploded wide of the ship. The other did not take the bait. The missile found its mark as it sliced through the Preston Brooking’s shields. The explosion sent a shockwave throughout the ship, knocking several crew off their feet.

“Damage report,” called Hathcox.

“FTL is offline, Captain. They knew right where to hit us,” responded Durbin.

“Can we outrun them?” asked Peterson.

“Negative, sir.”

“Captain,” called Subspace Radio Operator Johnson, “we’re being hailed.”

“Put it through.”

“Attention, unknown vessel. You will power down your shields and stop your engines. If you attempt to escape, you will be hunted down and destroyed. This is the only warning we will give.”

“Captain?”

“Do as he said. All stop, lower shields. Transmit our surrender.”

“Captain, we can’t give up that easily,” Peterson protested.

“Our FTL is gone; they can outrun us and apparently know all the hiding places. Hate to say it, but they’ve got all the cards right now.”

The angular, dark gray cruiser took a position near the Preston Brooking. The cruiser’s tractor beam locked on and pulled the helpless vessel close enough to extend a boarding bridge. Moments later, the airlock opened. A dozen armed men and women stormed aboard the ship making their way to the bridge.

The hatch to the bridge flew open as four men led by a black-haired woman with a patch over her left eye entered the bridge. “Which one of you is the Captain?” she asked.

“I’m Captain Hathcox.”

“Yuri, take Baldy here to the Baldrin.”

“Now, just wait a minute,” Peterson protested.

Before he could say more, the woman aimed a pistol at his face. “Are you some hero, mister? Is that what you are? How smart is it to take on five armed people without a weapon?” Peterson backed away and sat in his chair. “Now that’s a good boy. Keep making good decisions; you might live to tell your grandkids about today. Kepler, Tanner, stay here and keep these lovely people honest. If they give you any trouble, kill the troublemaker and the one next to them.”

The three remaining pirates escorted Hathcox to their ship. “May I ask you for your name, young lady?” he asked.

“You can ask,” she said as they winded through the corridors of the enemy ship. They arrived at a door, and the woman knocked on it, seeking entry.

“Enter,” called the voice on the other side.

She opened the door and ushered Hathcox inside. Seated behind a small desk was a heavy-set, balding man in a flashy outfit. His face sported a goatee and bushy eyebrows. When he spotted Hathcox, the man stood to greet him. “You must be the captain. Welcome. I am Lon Baeder, Captain of the Baldrin. I hope your crew was not too shaken by our, how should we say, introduction.”

“Captain Baeder, you launched an unprovoked attack on my ship. Fortunately, none of our crew were killed. If you release us now, the Anatolian Navy will probably show you leniency.”

Baeder laughed, “Leniency, he says. Leniency. Did you hear that, Melinda? I’m sure you don’t find this funny, but you should hear yourself. Captain...uhm.”

“Hathcox.”

“Yes, Hathcox, please have a seat. We’ve much to discuss.”

“My government will not negotiate with pirates.”

“Oh, I think they will. It will cost them far less to pay the ransom for you and your crew than it would to send a task force. No, they’ll pay.”

“What if they refuse? Are you going to kill us?”

“Captain, I’m hurt. We are not barbarians. You would become our guests, stranded on our little world. Besides, why kill you when we can ransom you directly to your families? Who knows? You might grow to like it. Maybe you would consider joining our little band after a while.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, take some time and think it over while you enjoy our hospitality. Melinda, make sure the captain is comfortable. I trust you won’t try to escape if I don’t place you in the brig?”

“You have my word. I will not try to escape.”

“Wonderful. You will, of course, join us for dinner tonight. I will have our cooks prepare one of my favorite meals.”

“Thank you. Will you please see to the safety of my crew?”

“But of course. Now, please get some rest. We will talk over dinner.”

One of the men who escorted Hathcox off his ship motioned for him to follow. Melinda remained behind. Once the men left, she said to Baeder, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Baeder responded.

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