Of Donkeys, Gods, and Space Pirates by Ethan Freckleton & JR Frontera

Author:Ethan Freckleton & JR Frontera [Freckleton, Ethan & Frontera, JR]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Funny Ass Fiction
Published: 2019-05-29T06:00:00+00:00

15

Admiral Hawke stood on the bridge of the destroyer, legs splayed wide, hands clasped behind his back, frowning at the viewscreen spread before him.

He watched as the zoomed image of the bulky cargo hauler, the SS Bray, darted around and through the asteroids as nimbly as a one-man fighter.

What the blazes?! That bulk shouldn’t be able to move like that … and is that a tube hanging off the side of the ship?

“Sir,” Commander Corvus spoke up from her place at his elbow, her voice strung tight as a violin, “they’ll be entering the nebula in seconds, and our sensors can’t penetrate that kind of radiation. We need to fire … now. We need to disable them before they can reach it!”

Admiral Hawke shook his head. “Weren’t you aiming to disable them with your last torpedo volley? The volley I did not approve?” He turned to face her with one lifted eyebrow, and she straightened beneath his disapproving gaze, pursing her lips.

“Sir, they’re pirates. The laws of the Federation clearly state—”

“That all criminals shall first be given the chance to peaceably surrender,” Admiral Hawke broke in.

“They did not answer our hails, sir,” the commander stated again, firmly. “Nor did they respond to our warning shots. The next step, as mandated by Federation law, is to disable and board the ship.”

“But, I do not think that is what your last torpedo volley would have done, Commander,” Hawke stated coolly. “Based on its trajectory.”

Anasua’s thin brows twitched. “A slight miscalculation. Not that it mattered, given that their ship is far more mobile than we anticipated.”

A slight miscalculation, my behind, Hawke thought, turning back to the viewscreen. The Bray was closing fast on the pink edges of the nebula. He sighed heavily. Commander Corvus didn’t understand the delicacy of this situation with Bambi.

“Sir,” she pressed. “If we’re going to catch them, now is the time to fire—”

“No,” he said again. “They’re going into the cloud. And they can’t safely jump from within that soup. If they come out the other side, we’ll see them. They’re trapped either way. We wait.”

The commander could not restrain her huff of disappointment, but Hawke ignored her. She couldn’t be expected to understand. That’s why he was the Rear Admiral.

He turned to the comms officer to his right. “Tightbeam a message to the Bray, would you, please?”

“Of course, sir,” the young man answered, flipping a few switches. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, clean-shaven with close-cropped brown hair. His Federation uniform was perfectly pressed and looked sharp on his trim frame, his boots highly polished. The epitome of an ideal Federation officer.

And Hawke couldn’t remember his name. I’m really going to have to study the crew roster again. I can’t be forgetting people’s names! “Thank you,” he said, purposefully leaving out the man’s name and rank.

“Ready to broadcast, sir,” the young nameless man said. “Go ahead with your message.”

Hawke faced the viewscreen again and cleared his throat. “This is Rear Admiral Eilhard Hawke to the SS Bray,” he said.

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