The ship emerged from the corona with plasma streaming from her shields, like Moby Dick rising from the depths, seafoam trailing in her wake as she breached the surface before them.
Around her, the bridge was silent, save for the hum of uncaring computer systems as they mindlessly catalogued and quantified the scene before them.
The XO stared at the screen, "That's a big ship."
She nodded.
He examined the readouts for a moment longer and the tenseness in his shoulders almost visibly eased as he turned back to the Captain, "Looks like a large freighter, Captain," he grinned, "had me worried for a second there, a warship that size would have been a handful."
Frances spared him a brief glance and his smile faltered at the cold, hard look in her eyes.
She turned to the tactical station, "Arm the plasma torpedoes and load all forward tubes. Kick off
all
the safeties, I want maximum yield. Set for 100% overloads on all warheads."
"Uh, Captain?"
She ignored the look of confusion as she continued giving orders in a hard, precise voice they hadn't heard before, "Guns, keep all fire control systems on stand-by, I do
not
want you to lock that ship up, understand me? You'll be firing your first salvo by line of sight. I'll try to close the range as much as possible in the meantime."
She turned to the XO, "Bring the ship to Action Stations, but do it carefully, I want to avoid any external sign of our enhanced readiness. So, keep the emergency generators on stand-by and no additional power to the shields."
"But," he pointed, "it's a freighter, Captain. I mean, she's certainly armed, but she's no match for a cruiser, surely."
Frances snorted and her voice was flat, "That's no freighter, that's a fucking Q-Ship."
"A what now?"
"Q-Ship. A military vessel built on a civilian hull. They were designed as commerce raiders, and damned effective they were too. That thing is one of the old Nosferatu class raiders. I've not seen one of those beasts since the war."
The man's eyes widened, "What?"
"It's a warship, Damon. And the thing probably outguns us three to one."
"Oh, shit."
Nodding in agreement she gave a harsh chuckle, "Oh shit indeed." Turning, she looked across the bridge, "comms, open a channel to that ship."
"You'll give away our position, Captain."
The Captain shook her head, "They have military grade sensors. So, they've probably seen us already."
***
Bill Schreck was a big man. Maybe not as muscular as he once was, but he still cast a big shadow, and with his evil temper it was well known he was not a man to cross lightly. So, his crew wisely kept their mouths shut and their eyes on their consoles when he stomped onto the bridge.
After it became obvious the war was lost, he had been disinclined to throw his life away on some fucking imbecilic crusade for the Greater Thorian Empire and so had happily followed along when the crew mutinied. Of course, once the officers and those loyal to them had been safely butchered or thrown out the nearest airlock he had listened from the sidelines as the survivors argued endlessly about what to do next. Some had decided to vanish into the cosmos or try their luck on remote stations, and good riddance to them, but he and a hard-core few of likeminded individuals had decided to stay. They had a fine ship that packed some pretty impressive firepower and those that remained behind were ruthless enough to put those guns to good use.
Merc work was just too fucking dangerous. Too often it gave schmucks the chance to shoot back. But piracy? Oh yea, that was the way to go. Lightly armed merchants plying the lonely routes between the outer systems were easy pickings, and now and again you might stumble on a decent score. Even if you didn't, it still paid well, and there was always the chance at grabbing some free pussy, willing or not. there were systems and stations out there, in the dark, that would pay good creds for some premium slave quiff and didn't give two shits where it came from.
Like that last ship they bounced only a few days ago. It was a packet freighter running cargo and mail to some of the more remote mining colonies, but it also carried a few passengers travelling on the cheap. He wasn't interested in the men, it wasn't labour he was looking for, but a handful of the women had been young and decent enough looking. There was always a market for that kind of product, and besides, his crew would happily put them to good use until he got them sold. Course, it wasn't in their interest to leave any witnesses. So, after grabbing what they could they'd turned the ship's guns on their hapless prey and reduced it to a dead hulk.
He sniffed and looked about as he zipped up his sweat-stained coveralls and buckled his gunbelt. He had been getting better acquainted with one of the bitches they'd snatched, and she hadn't been too happy about it, but then again, that's why they invented shock-prods.
After tickling her ass, tits and cunny a good few times with that thing, she had started to see things his way, and by the time he had finished teaching her a lesson, the little slut had learned her manners well enough, and was on her knees begging to do just about anything he wanted. Which was why he was seriously pissed when the fucking alarms went off and his dickhead of a second in command had started screaming down the intercom like a little bitch.
Seeing the man leaning over a console on the far side of the bridge he lumbered over, "What the fuck is it, Mendoza? And it better be good or I'm going to stove your fucking skull in this time."
The weasel-faced little prick spun around and Schreck saw one of his hands dipping towards the vibrodagger he kept tucked in his belt. He stepped closer and grinned nastily, "Do it. Go on, pull that shank, and see what fucking happens."
Mendoza's eyes narrowed in a hateful glower, he was no coward, and had gutted men before, but he knew what his boss was capable of. His hand moved carefully away from the weapon as he pointed to one of the screens, "There's a warship coming up on us from astern. Looks like a cruiser."
Following the man's gesture Schreck eyed the display for a moment before cursing sulphurously, "What the fuck! I thought you knew your business Mendoza. How the fuck did it get that close before being detected?"
"Not my fault, Boss. Plasma fumes from the sun's corona obscured the sensors," he shrugged, probably did the same thing to him."
The big man grunted in disgust, "You useless prick. What's his status? Is he coming in hot?"
The second in command shook his head, "Don't think so. As far as we can tell he aint increased speed, and his fire control systems aint locked us up. His shields are raised, but then so are ours, that's kinda normal, what with the solar radiation and flares n shit."
"What's the readiness of our hyperdrive?"
"It's charging, but you know we can't jump this close to a gravity well. We need to get clear first."
Mouth twisting in an angry snarl, Schreck glowered at him, "I fucking know that, dipshit."
The Second gave his Captain a few moments before asking, "Want me to run out the guns?"
Schreck eyed the sensor blip on the screen and considered, before shaking his head, "No, but get the gun crews to stand-to. Make sure the gauss cannons are charged, but don't open the gun ports just yet, I want to keep the weapons hidden. Might be these pricks are buying our disguise," he chuckled, "if they are, and if they come in all fat and happy, and we can get them to drop their shields, well then, maybe we can bag us a nice little cruiser to add to our fleet."
Grinning hungrily, Mendoza bobbed his head in agreement, "Good call, boss. Even if we blow it to hell, we're bound to get some decent salvage from the wreck, and maybe some of the survivors might be worth a ransom."
