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Description

Computer, open ship’s log.

Earth Relative Date, October 28th, 2223, 1700 Hours.

We just received a broadcast notification that a ship inbound to Musk Station is overdue and now officially classed as missing. The ‘Coronado’ has not arrived and not sent out a distress message.

This is not the news you want to hear when you’re inbound along the same route.

It usually comes down to one of three things:

The ‘Coronado’ has suffered some sort of navigational failure and lost communications contact. This is possible. It happens. Braking drives fail, transponders fail. The ship will simply arrive late, emergency over, but they will ask questions.

The second possibility is some type of accident. Most commonly, a collision with some random object. It doesn’t take much to disable or destroy a ship, provided the impact velocity is high enough. Someone commonly swept the trade routes for debris and most ships have active collision avoidance systems. It is still possible, though.

The third possibility, the one that has Kimber and me on edge, is that somebody has intercepted the ‘Coronado’.

Pirates.

You don’t hear about them much since the days of the ‘Merchant’s War’. The 'Merchant's War' broke up or destroyed many large pirate operations, so people don't talk about them much.

They still exist, usually somebody down on their luck, not necessarily criminals, just desperate rock hoppers. Living from day-to-day, sometimes hour-to-hour, can force people to make some terrible choices.

Then you have some pirates who make the choice out of darker motives. I’m sure this is the same nightmare for both Kimber and I right now. They're taking our ship would be almost secondary. Our cargo is not what is important either. They want the crew.

This is something most people don’t understand. The crew itself can be the target. They’ll disable the ship’s communications, disable its drives, then board intending to capture the crew as intact as possible.

Sometimes they’re looking to replace competent crew members they’ve lost. They board and give you a choice; join us or out the airlock. When you are far away and have guns pointed at you, joining them is not a decision. It's surviving.

Then you’ve got the sadists. Maybe the worst nightmare for any spacefarer. Some people think these sorts of things are just the products of holo-vids and Merchant propaganda. Let me assure you, they exist. For these sorts, it isn’t about sex or slavery. Every space port and colony have enough androids designed just for that purpose. Some ports even offer their use for free as an incentive to get you to dock with them.

There is a darker sort. These people are like nightmares waiting to happen. I’ve been told that if you live on some isolated rock out in the middle of the void, it can do some baffling, dark shit to your thinking. It’s usually these pirates that crossed some line from criminal to evil. They will rape, mutilate and torture simply for some cruel thrill. When they apprehend them alive, I’ve attended their commerce trials. I’ve seen the evidence presented by both the ISC officers and the Merchant’s Commission.

You can have no idea how evil these renegade pirates can be.

Kimber and I are watching all our telemetry data for any sign of pirate activity. I’ve put the ship’s AI on an analysis protocol for all passive data collected. We will change the ship’s braking pattern. Pirates watch for the telltale signatures of braking motors. We will decelerate more radically but closer to our destination. If a pirate detects us, it will make it harder for them to come to an intercept course. The closer we get to port, the more likely we will be in range of an ISC gunboat for protection. I hate to rely on those assholes but better them than the pirates.

In the meantime, Kimber and I are both in our pressure suits. I rigged the ship to run dark, and we have the pulse rifles nearby.

Computer. Amending ship’s log for October 28th, 2223.

New personal log entry.

We’re still inbound for Musk. No sign of anomalous activity. The black is still just the black. I saw Kimber popping a couple of those awful military grade stim-tablets. The kind that makes you see sounds like fluorescent colors. She’ll be hyperaware until we make it into a dock somewhere. Probably need to detox her.

I don’t blame her. We’re both nervous and a little scared right now.

My dad never wanted me to be a pilot just because of shit like this. He had a pleasant job as a Research and Development Engineer for Hyundai. He and mom were at a research station outside Seoul on the Day. Never had a chance to say goodbye.

He taught me to study history. You can’t know where you’re going until you understand where you’ve been. He said shit like that all the time. Usually between drags on his joint or a serious blast of synth-rum.

He was right. I didn’t admit it to him then, but he was so very correct.

Here I am in a second-hand shuttle. Scratching by from cargo-to-cargo, living in a habitat pod when I’m docked, usually with just a couple centimeters of steel between me and hard vacuum.

A shrill alarm suddenly sounds, filling the background, drowning out Omalley’s voice.

Sweet Jesus! Anomalous activity alarms!

Computer. Identify activity.

“Kimber, we have something out about 10,000 K exhibiting course corrections and on an intercept with us. The signature is NOT on the registry list. I’m going to calculate a burn to get us ahead of it. Maybe get us ahead of it.”

“I’m not sure we can get away from it.”

“Get the pulse rifles ready."

Description

Computer, open ship’s log.

Earth Relative Date, October 28th, 2223, 1700 Hours.

We just received a broadcast notification that a ship inbound to Musk Station is overdue and now officially classed as missing. The ‘Coronado’ has not arrived and not sent out a distress message.

This is not the news you want to hear when you’re inbound along the same route.

It usually comes down to one of three things:

The ‘Coronado’ has suffered some sort of navigational failure and lost communications contact. This is possible. It happens. Braking drives fail, transponders fail. The ship will simply arrive late, emergency over, but they will ask questions.

The second possibility is some type of accident. Most commonly, a collision with some random object. It doesn’t take much to disable or destroy a ship, provided the impact velocity is high enough. Someone commonly swept the trade routes for debris and most ships have active collision avoidance systems. It is still possible, though.

The third possibility, the one that has Kimber and me on edge, is that somebody has intercepted the ‘Coronado’.

Pirates.

You don’t hear about them much since the days of the ‘Merchant’s War’. The 'Merchant's War' broke up or destroyed many large pirate operations, so people don't talk about them much.

They still exist, usually somebody down on their luck, not necessarily criminals, just desperate rock hoppers. Living from day-to-day, sometimes hour-to-hour, can force people to make some terrible choices.

Then you have some pirates who make the choice out of darker motives. I’m sure this is the same nightmare for both Kimber and I right now. They're taking our ship would be almost secondary. Our cargo is not what is important either. They want the crew.

This is something most people don’t understand. The crew itself can be the target. They’ll disable the ship’s communications, disable its drives, then board intending to capture the crew as intact as possible.

Sometimes they’re looking to replace competent crew members they’ve lost. They board and give you a choice; join us or out the airlock. When you are far away and have guns pointed at you, joining them is not a decision. It's surviving.

Then you’ve got the sadists. Maybe the worst nightmare for any spacefarer. Some people think these sorts of things are just the products of holo-vids and Merchant propaganda. Let me assure you, they exist. For these sorts, it isn’t about sex or slavery. Every space port and colony have enough androids designed just for that purpose. Some ports even offer their use for free as an incentive to get you to dock with them.

There is a darker sort. These people are like nightmares waiting to happen. I’ve been told that if you live on some isolated rock out in the middle of the void, it can do some baffling, dark shit to your thinking. It’s usually these pirates that crossed some line from criminal to evil. They will rape, mutilate and torture simply for some cruel thrill. When they apprehend them alive, I’ve attended their commerce trials. I’ve seen the evidence presented by both the ISC officers and the Merchant’s Commission.

You can have no idea how evil these renegade pirates can be.

Kimber and I are watching all our telemetry data for any sign of pirate activity. I’ve put the ship’s AI on an analysis protocol for all passive data collected. We will change the ship’s braking pattern. Pirates watch for the telltale signatures of braking motors. We will decelerate more radically but closer to our destination. If a pirate detects us, it will make it harder for them to come to an intercept course. The closer we get to port, the more likely we will be in range of an ISC gunboat for protection. I hate to rely on those assholes but better them than the pirates.

In the meantime, Kimber and I are both in our pressure suits. I rigged the ship to run dark, and we have the pulse rifles nearby.

Computer. Amending ship’s log for October 28th, 2223.

New personal log entry.

We’re still inbound for Musk. No sign of anomalous activity. The black is still just the black. I saw Kimber popping a couple of those awful military grade stim-tablets. The kind that makes you see sounds like fluorescent colors. She’ll be hyperaware until we make it into a dock somewhere. Probably need to detox her.

I don’t blame her. We’re both nervous and a little scared right now.

My dad never wanted me to be a pilot just because of shit like this. He had a pleasant job as a Research and Development Engineer for Hyundai. He and mom were at a research station outside Seoul on the Day. Never had a chance to say goodbye.

He taught me to study history. You can’t know where you’re going until you understand where you’ve been. He said shit like that all the time. Usually between drags on his joint or a serious blast of synth-rum.

He was right. I didn’t admit it to him then, but he was so very correct.

Here I am in a second-hand shuttle. Scratching by from cargo-to-cargo, living in a habitat pod when I’m docked, usually with just a couple centimeters of steel between me and hard vacuum.

A shrill alarm suddenly sounds, filling the background, drowning out Omalley’s voice.

Sweet Jesus! Anomalous activity alarms!

Computer. Identify activity.

“Kimber, we have something out about 10,000 K exhibiting course corrections and on an intercept with us. The signature is NOT on the registry list. I’m going to calculate a burn to get us ahead of it. Maybe get us ahead of it.”

“I’m not sure we can get away from it.”

“Get the pulse rifles ready."