After dropping off their Accountant/Assassin, the crew finished their planned route in order to make a show of delivering their ‘cargo’. But once they reached their target system, it was an all-out sprint to get as far away as possible.

  Jenny Mae worked in overdrive, finding short hop jobs that would be believable to anyone tracing their whereabouts, coincidentally taking them further and further from their recent past. All while mixing up their jump routes enough to throw off direct tracking.

  “How in the lightning hell did you learn this?” Heath asked over dinner one day.

  “Don’t quote another instruction manual at us, there’s no way evading criminal organizations was a class at your academy.”

  “Not the academy.” Jenny Mae was bursting at the seams with excitement at explaining her grand strategy. “But have you ever played Arterian Conquerers?”

  “Oh, I loved that game a while ago. Heath we should add a console to the rec room when it’s time for an upgrade.”

  “We should!” Jenny Mae agreed. “Anyway, I had the top scouting score on my home planet’s server. I’m using the same basic plan now.”

  “A game,” Ekaterina said, voice flat.

  “A strategy game! It’s working isn’t it?”

  No one had any rebuttal and the subject drifted off onto their next delve. Because overachiever that she was, Jenny Mae had mixed some dungeons into their flight plan. And stickler for details that Ekaterina was, she insisted they visit as many as possible. He had initially resisted but her point was a good one, the stronger they were, the better they’d be able to handle anything that the Syndicate threw at them.

  It was novel for Heath to be considered combat capable, but the results spoke for themselves. A small but growing corner of the cargo hold was dedicated to their loot. By mutual agreement, they were holding it to sell until they reached whatever imagined-safe distance they were aiming for. The only dungeon that had given them trouble was a labyrinth. More traps than straightforward fighting, it had taken falling into the third pit for Copperfield to demand they return without completing the maze. Given that none of the rest of them could do any of the testing, Heath had acquiesced.

  Their current job was a fun change of pace, stress relief after weeks of fleeing. Another lucky argo drop in a recent dungeon had upgraded their cargo hold, giving them options for what they wanted to keep inside and a bit more room.

  Their hold was thus playing host to one hundred and twenty Sparikan Orchids. The cyan flowers were lovely and made the whole ship smell like high-class perfume, but it was the stamen that had a specific property Alchemists, and a hundred other classes, found useful. But they had to be plucked as close to use as possible, which meant live-transport.

  Their cargo bay was turned into a tropical jungle. Every time he walked in, the threshold into the higher humidity felt like drinking the air. He forced himself to check on the delicate flowers twice a day despite the discomfort. As usual, they were secure in their gravity-controlled, mag-locked pots.

  “Heath, we are getting some interesting readings on the bridge. Please return.”

  “On my way,” he answered the Loon.

  Stepping out of the hold was like leaving a sauna, refreshing and chilling at the same time. Everyone had gathered on the bridge, watching an enhanced starward view of the system they were flying through. To be honest, Heath hadn’t paid attention since they weren’t stopping, but he thought it was called Glen Lavar.

  With a tap, the screen filtered out most of the star’s light, revealing a small ship flying in the magnetic lee of a nearby gas giant.

  “What’s up?” He asked.

  “Noticed something on the sensors. Looked closer and this little fucker is on a collision course.”

  “Like the mining drone?”

  “Hard to say.”

  “That model can be either” Copperfield interjected. “I’ve seen them run as little one-man fliers, or unmanned scouts.”

  “Send a hail and see what we get.”

  They waited for the subspace relay to ping the tiny craft, but nothing came back.

  “Loon?”

  “Nothing, Captain. Either unable or unwilling to respond.”

  “There’s someone in there, then.” Emerald said. “A scouting drone would be programmed to respond.”

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  “Not necessarily,” Copperfield countered. “Sometimes you don’t want anyone butting in to your business so you put a lock on the subspace comms.”

  Heath side-eyed that but didn’t say anything. If they weren’t responding then they would have to wait and see. It was another half hour before their company was close enough to do anything more than watch.

  “Another hail please, Loon.”

  “Right away, Captain.”

  Once more they got nothing back.

  “Again, Loon. This time, let them know we’ll treat as hostile if no response.”

  This time, they could all see the response. Unfolding from the bottom of the craft were two cannons. Far more than a single scouting drone could usually handle. Whoever was in there had come with a purpose, and was used to taking on larger threats than what a normal flyer would be capable of.

  “All stations. Ekaterina, Jenny, arm weapons.”

  A chorus of “Aye, Captains” filled the bridge as his crew readied for combat. Heath made his own lightning-fast preparations. The stabilizers were humming at full efficiency, which he hoped would be enough.

  Gently enough it would be almost unnoticeable to anyone not specifically watching for it, Heath nudged the Loon a degree off course. On his flight screen, he saw their new friend adjust to maintain their course relative to the Loon.

  “Ekaterina, what’s the range on those guns?”

  “According to our database, the base model will be in range approximately two minutes before our own munitions. Which does not account for modifications.”

  “Okay. Hold on, everyone.”

  Pushing the stabilizers all the way up, Heath toggled to force most of the effect to be concentrated in the cargo hold. Those flowers were getting to the destination without missing even a petal, godsdamnit.

  Then he flung the Loon in as tight an arc as he could manage while keeping the cargo, and their bodies, intact. If this guy wanted a collision course, he would get one. The Loon was more maneuverable than most cargo ships, in base design and with the argo enhancing the engine.

  “Copperfield. Do you recognize any markings for a pirate fleet?”

  “Engine didn’t love that maneuver, Captain. And no. Looks like an independent that got unlucky enough to go up against the Loon.”

  “That’s right. Loon, time to engage?”

  “Three minutes, Captain.”

  “I’ll keep them off us, everyone else, let them have it.”

  There wasn’t much in the way of strategy here. In what felt like no time at all, they were in range.

  Their opponent fired first. System-enhanced ordinance that puffed out of the guns and sailed through the silence of the vacuum. A dip took them out of the course, which the torpedoes swerved to follow.

  “They’re tracking. Jenny Mae, if you get a shot to take them out, do it.”

  That was all the attention Heath could spare. The nose of the Loon was still aimed at the scouting ship, but their opponent had finally decided to take some evasive actions of their own. They were burning their acceleration, planning to let the guns do the work.

  Too bad for them that Heath wasn’t willing to let a blatant attack pass without retaliation. Every swerve and spiral from the scout was matched by the Loon. All while keeping just ahead of the torpedoes.

  The first ripped apart, and Heath realized his Administrator had likely both predicted the pathing algorithm, and then shot an intercept with [Sharpshooter]. Absurd.

  But there was another torpedo coming. This one was either learning or glitchy, it jerked and swerved in random directions, keeping Jenny Mae’s shots going wide. It would be down to Heath.

  He sank into [Ship Link]. The passive form of the Skill was always running, but he only pushed it to active when the need arose. With it, came the expansion of his own body. From each plate of the hull to the mana flowing through the engine, Heath could feel it all. And in this state, he could do something about it.

  Deep in his soul, where his class lived, [Hull Integrity] and [Shield] were neighbors, practically adjoining. It was natural to activate them both at once. The neighboring powers twined together, reinforcing the Loon ahead of the collision.

  He felt the torpedo strike like a hammer blow to the solar plexus. Physically the munition was stopped by [Shield], though the released energy still slammed into the hull. His skill strained to the limit spreading the impact over a wider area.

  It was over. From an ache that settled in his abdomen, he knew they had some repairs to do, but nothing so severe as fighting the Kaiju. He pushed the [Ship Link] to his subconscious and refocused.

  They were gaining.

  The Loon’s base speed was shocking for a cargo hauler, all the argo and System-fueled growth on top of that put them far beyond any expectations. Their attacker was in for a rude awakening. Heath hoped they regretted it in their last moments.

  Before, he might have let them go and returned to their own course. But he had just felt a full torpedo impact on the Loon. That had been a shot meant to kill, and he had no intention of letting this bastard get away.

  Heath didn’t need anyone to tell him when they reached the effective range for their own weaponry. Ekaterina and Jenny Mae let loose, the light feedback from each shot humming through his bones.

  As they reached what was point-blank range for a ship their size, Heath gave the order. “Fire.”

  His crew didn’t hesitate. Their barrage slammed into the scouting ship, overwhelming whatever shielding it had and ripping.

  On screen, he watched it all as sections of the hull peeled away. The engine sputtered once, twice, and died. The Loon followed behind as residual momentum sent the ship on a skew line, trailing metal and detritus like blood.

  The last year had made Heath more accustomed to death than he had ever imagined back when he begged his mom to let him sign on as a spacer. Hundreds, maybe thousands of dungeon monsters had fallen to his phase pistol. Not to mention the many more that the rest of his crew had taken down.

  None of that had prepared him for killing a person. It felt too close to the monsters. Maybe because they had attacked first. The dungeon monsters didn’t give them a choice when they attacked his crew, and neither had whoever their enemy pilot. Heath made a promise to himself then. He would treat life with respect, but anyone or anything that came for the Wandering Loon or its crew was getting put down.

  “Status?”

  His question echoed on the silent bridge. From her face, Jenny Mae had been having some similar thoughts to Heath. There was no saying what shot killed whoever it was, but as far as Heath was concerned, it was his order and his responsibility. The question jolted her out of any spiral that was forming.

  “We’re way off course and moving in the wrong direction.”

  “Ship’s doing fine. Needs some attention but nothing a few Skill apps won’t fix,” Copperfield added. He was handling the situation remarkably well, but Heath suspected this wasn’t his first time seeing a ship destroyed given the life of a pirate. He didn’t ask.

  “Sensors not giving us anything. If they have friends, they aren’t riding to the rescue.” Emerald was reacting about as expected. A bit sad – Heath had learned to read behind the sighs – but not devastated.

  Funnily enough, it was Ekaterina that seemed the most put out. She stared at the main view screen, wide-eyed and ignoring her own station. Heath cleared his throat, which did nothing but make him sound like he was choking.

  “Weapons?” he tried.

  “What? Oh, fine.” Not a bridge-appropriate status report but he would take it for now.

  He wasn’t even out of mana. That was the thing that struck Heath as they drifted along. It was such an easy fight, he still had plenty of energy to push into repairs, which he did.

  Someone had attacked them, out of the black, for no discernible purpose, only to be blasted apart as a result. He knew the next order he had to give, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “Suit up, Copperfield. We need you to head over and patch the Loon in so we can pull everything off the drives.”

  “Aye, Captain.” The Swashbuckler hopped up and was off the bridge before anyone else could comment. Before everything, if anyone had suggested ‘former pirate’ as a recruiting focus, Heath would have quietly suggested they sleep off whatever bender they were on. But the unique skillset of such a lifestyle was coming in handy more often than not. Or the Loon was becoming a ship that was unusual in more than just its AI.