As the tungsten rounds breach the ship's hull, you sit there motionless. You always knew that if you ever get ambushed, this is the manner it is going to happen. You will be either in the captain's chair, some holo-show projected before you, or you will be at another part of the vessel, perhaps in the bathroom, or asleep, and suddenly the entire thing will begin to unfold.
On one hand, you could say that you were begging for it. You are a smuggler alright, called Aarla Kadem, who just jumped out of FTL above the desert planet of Alescia, where her newest prize awaits her. You are a member of the adenian race: a genetically altered version of humans that was created millennia ago. Your kind was meant for military use, with green skin, capable to withstand the impact of a bullet, a strong yet agile body, and a brain that could far out-compete the average human's. But when it became evident just how good you are at killing people, you were banished from Old Terra, your kind widely hated ever since. And of course: you are in the Zeta Sector, the land of fanatic slavers where just about anyone would be happy to put a collar on your neck if the chance arises. In fact, adenian women are considered royalties among the zetans, sold for ridiculous sums on their famous slave auctions. So yes, in an essence, you could say that this is entirely on you. But somehow. The entire thing. Just doesn't add up.
The shots arrived the moment you jumped out of FTL, before your shield would flicker back to function. That means that whoever is the attacker, had to place a tracker on your ship, weeks, or perhaps months prior the assault. The other bizarre thing is that this is not a zetan vessel. Something that would be advanced enough to make a dent on your Aristotle. Instead, it belongs to one of the Old Terran factions, you are not entirely sure which one, purchased by some outlaws who kept patching it up with whatever tech they could get their hands on. A vessel like this would have practically zero chance against yours, blown to smithereens during the first salvos. And that makes one wonder: why would someone place a tracker on your ship, follow you to the land of slavers, and engage you with an inferior vessel?
Problem is, as you start to realize: this is really not the time for wondering about it!
The system locked the internal airlocks shut the moment the breach occurred. That saved you from certain death. However, the rounds went through the cooling pipe to the reactor core, and even though the backup kicked in, it could only get your shield to a minimum. And with this realization in mind, your opponent now switched to plasma, and began shooting away, all the while you were sitting in your chair, contemplating on the events that led here.
But now you are back in control. And that is all that matters. The side thrusters flung to life, you are able to dodge the salvo. After that, you take a sharp turn, wait for the lock on target, and begin to fire your lasers. You see the shot emerge from above the cockpit, and you expect the other ship to be blown to pieces. But instead, its shield handles the shot easily.
Stars dammit! you curse, as you realize that your main weapon too is at the minimum. You also see the other vessel accelerating towards you, a burst of plasma fired in your direction. You try to evade, with another jolt from the thrusters, but one of the shots still get you, your shield almost depleted through the absorption. With it, you realize that your strategy is not going to work: in these circumstances, your foe is just superior.
You take a glance at Alescia. You dropped out of FTL close to the planet. If you put every ounce of power to the engines, perhaps you could make it there. With multiple holes in your hull, the Aristotle would be ripped to pieces during the descent. In that you are certain. However adenian cockpits are designed to land intact, with built in thrusters to slow you down. And there is a good chance that your foe has zero knowledge about this fact. You also think that you could send a signal that you surrender. But to what end? The zetans are not the only ones who keep slaves. The Old Terran factions do this just as often, except that they are more modest about it. Give up, and you will spend the rest of your life with a collar on your neck. A fate that is rumored worse than death.
One rough landing it is! you think to yourself, as another salvo passes by your vessel. A few buttons pushed on the console, and all the power is rerouted to the engines. Then with a swift turn, you are away, headed towards the planet before you, the attacker changing course to intercept.
With the help of your thrusters, you dodge salvo after salvo as you continue your way towards the planet. The cockpit's window engulfed with fire as you enter the stratosphere. Then you hear loud thud, followed by a screeching sound, and your mind registers that most of your ship no longer follows. Except that the other ship does, maneuvering to avoid the wreckage, your velocity matched as the pursuit is continued.
Fuck it! you think to yourself, as you give all power to the front thrusters. Then to the ones on the side. The cockpit slammed like a rock to the other vessel. Eat this, you bastards! you think to yourself. Your mind faded into darkness the moment of the impact.
When you regain your consciousness, you find the event a strange one. On one hand, you are glad that you survived this ordeal. On the other hand, your arms feel numb, and so are your hips and your crotch. As an instinct, you try to bring your hands before you, however the motion is stopped by something wrapped around your skin. That's when you open your eyes finally, and you realize that you are sitting at an empty spot in the desert, your arms tied behind you by utility straps, connected to a makeshift harness around your hips. One that just happens to have another strap between your legs.
