“Approaching bogey,” Magellan reported, his eyes fixed to the radar screen.

Rayet pulled back the over-thruster gear, slowing the ship to a faint drift. Something could be seen through the cockpit window. Rayet leaned forward in his seat. An object the size of a volleyball hovered in the airless vacuum of space. It was metallic in construction, spotted with an array of vibrant, multicolored lights along the surface.

For a brief instance Rayet was agape, staring at the object. Then, snapping out of it, he slammed his fist hard onto the control console, startling Magellan.

Rayet reared up, irate. “I don’t believe it, we’ve been tricked! It’s a decoy pod!” Whoever planted the decoy must have done so with the intention of luring Galaxy Enforcement away from the cargo shuttle. Damn, Rayet cursed himself. He had been played for a fool.

Dumbfounded, it took Magellan a moment to calculate their state of affairs and respond. “Sir, that’s impossible, how could a ship sneak under our radar? Unless…”

“…it was cloaked!” Rayet finished the sentence without hesitation. He tore the transceiver off the console, spitting into the microphone. “Enforcement Shuttle Two, forget the disturbance. Get back to the cargo shuttle, now!”

Positioned beneath the immobilized cargo shuttle’s underbelly rested the Galaxy Runner, a rustic star ship decorated with a heavy coating of cosmic corrosion and battle scars. The front of the crimson-colored ship was thick and elongated, while the rear followed a more box-shaped construction, housing a set of six massive thrusters. Wings that resembled those of an ancient jet fighter protruded from the middle body of the craft. The words Galaxy Runner may once have been visible on the ship’s side, but the paint had deteriorated beyond recognition. A grinning Jolly Roger skull-and-crossbones emblem was emblazoned onto the ship’s front, which too had faded.

Orion Darkstarr leaned forward in his command chair, positioned at the center of the Galaxy Runner’s cockpit. Orion looked no older than his early thirties, his face blemished by a few scars, but nothing off-putting. His black layered hair was wild, down to his shoulders and shooting in all directions, it was a match for his dark, enigmatic eyes. From neck to toe he wore an intricate and partly ornate pattern of red, blue and black leather with two metal shoulder pads resembling skulls.

The Galaxy Runner’s cockpit was spacious, resembling a half-circle. At one end was the entrance, a sprawling control console wrapped around the other end. Windows encircled most of the room, offering an awe-inspiring view to the star-filled reaches of space.

Aside from Orion, Legart Ganymede was the cockpit’s only other current occupant. Legart sat at the control panel, before the steering gears. His hands brushed over a series of switches, buttons, and knobs—flicking, pressing, and turning them with impressive coordination. Legart was pushing sixty-three years old, but he was so stubborn and determined that mere age had failed to slow him down. His face was worn with the years but, physically, his muscles were still well-toned and it was common knowledge to everyone aboard the Galaxy Runner that he could take on several men in a bar fight, all of whom could be half his age.

“On schedule,” Legart said, giving a nervous rub to his balding head. “So far.”

The automatic entrance door slid open with a whoosh. Nova Centura entered. If beauty alone could power the reflex furnace of a star ship, she could power an entire fleet. She brushed a strand of dark purple hair out of her eyes. Her tight-fitting gray jumpsuit hugged her slender figure.

“Cargo’s stored,” Nova informed. She made her way to the control panel, taking a seat near Legart’s side.

“Well done,” Orion replied with a nod.

Legart was never one to crack a smile, even in the best of situations, but the faint outline of a grin formed on his face. “How many crates?”

“Seven,” Nova answered flatly, striking several buttons to heat up the Galaxy Runner’s engine.

“Seven crates, all filled with Petro Diamonds,” Legart beamed. “We hit it big this time. We’ll finally be able to get this ship repaired.”

“Never mind the ship, I think we deserve a little down time on the beaches of Paradon,” Ace shot back, strolling into the cockpit. “A trip to the resort center of the galaxy is long overdue.”

“That’s the problem with you young punks,” Legart sneered, cutting Ace’s fantasy short, “common sense is about as rare as the air in space. The Galaxy Runner always comes first.”

“You know, old timer,” Ace started with a laugh, “I’ve seen black holes that don’t suck the life out of a party the way you do.”

“Orion, we have a radar blip. Looks like a Galaxy Enforcement shuttle,” Nova stated, reacting to a scanned image on the central monitor. She had no qualms about interrupting Ace and Legart’s banter, which for her short time aboard the Galaxy Runner had become a usual dialogue.

Orion shifted upright in his command chair. “Our little decoy pods didn’t hold their attention long. Fire thrusters and launch scramblers. Once we get near the asteroid field prepare all systems to cloak.”

Taking a deep breath, Legart seized the steering gears. Nova hammered away at a series of buttons on the control console. A monitor flickered to life overhead, illustrating a digital blueprint of the Galaxy Runner.

The Galaxy Runner’s rear thrusters blasted on, emitting a blinding glow of blue fire. In seconds the starship pulled away from the motionless cargo shuttle’s underside. Gaining speed, the pirate ship accelerated ‘upwards’, closer to a heavy concentration of asteroids.

In space, the concept of ‘up’ or ‘down’ had little meaning. Nothing was really above or below, even ‘sideways’ became irrelevant. Judging acceleration was also near impossible without computerized gauges and monitors. With the absence of gravity, space proved to be as disorientating for new pilots as it was a sense of liberation.

A series of paneled shafts at the rear of the Galaxy Runner jostled open, exposing a cylindrical canister in each of the small nestled compartments. In unison they launched, the canisters rocketed through space until reaching their designated distance predetermined by Nova’s coordinates. The canisters exploded in a flurry of silver, glittery sparkles that appeared to coat the entire area surrounding the cargo shuttle.

Rayet and Magellan were transfixed on the unidentified ship departing from the cargo shuttle. The gleaming specks that drifted through space were no mystery to Rayet, he knew all to well what they were. Scramblers. They were archaic devices, used to disrupt radio communication in a select vicinity. Despite them being considered outdated and obsolete, they were still very effective. They were also illegal.

Arios’ barely audible voice crackled through the Enforcement shuttle’s speaker system. “…shuttle…mayday…cargo…hijacked…nothing we could…pi...ra…tes...” A wave of heavy static and piercing feedback rumbled through the cockpit.

Pirates! Rayet felt the color flush from his cheeks. He could still view the mystery ship gaining distance from them, escaping with the stolen cargo and, more importantly, his deserved promotion. They won’t get away, even if I have to blow their ship to space dust!

“Get all our weapons online,” Rayet demanded.

Magellan looked surprised at the notion, in particular at the mention of weapons. “But sir, shouldn’t we send out a warning message first? I think—”

“Don’t think, Magellan, just do! We can’t afford to lose them because of some idiotic policy!”

Rayet didn’t like to admit it, but Magellan was right. It was Galaxy Enforcement procedure to send out a warning message to an enemy ship before attack, in hopes that a deterrent could be found and senseless bloodshed avoided. Galaxy Enforcement liked to tout and promote itself as a pacifistic entity, choosing diplomatic methods over utilizing force. Lethal force was typically out of the question, unless the most extreme circumstances called for it. To Rayet, this seemed to be a harsh contradiction; if warranted, force must be met with force. Deep down, he suspected that the ‘higher ups’ in Galaxy Enforcement held the same beliefs, or else their shuttles wouldn’t be equipped with such state-of-the-art weaponry.

Magellan activated the weapon systems. A series of chirps and beeps followed. Rayet felt justified in his decision. Even if he wanted to contact the pirate ship to offer a warning, the scramblers had made it impossible. The irony was that these pirates only managed to doom themselves. Unfortunately, any contact with Enforcement Shuttle Two was unattainable as well, for the same reason. Radio communication would probably still be down for at least another ten minutes. It was too long to wait for any backup.

Rayet pushed on the thruster gears. The sudden jolt in velocity pinned both Magellan and himself to their seats. Through the window he watched as the cargo shuttle was left in their backwash. The pirate ship was dead ahead.