“We’re surrounded!”

 

     “I can see that, sir.”

 

     “But your captain can’t! Fight, negotiate, do… anything! Just don’t let them destroy us!”  

 

     Ah, civilians. How I enjoy them.

 

     “Mr. Hoon, what do I hate most?”

 

     I can almost hear my executive officer’s smile. “People who think they’re helping but aren’t, sir.”

 

     Our little guest huffs. “I am helping! You obviously can’t see the danger we’re in. Do you even know how many ships there are and where they are?”

 

     Sight. The humans overrate it. “Just because I wasn’t born with optical orbs doesn’t mean I don’t ‘see’, Quartermaster. Mr. Hoon, ping distance to targets, particularly the larger one off the port bow. Should be about a thousand meters. The other five should be about twelve hundred.”

 

     “Aye, sir.” He repeats my order to the tactical officer, Avery, who confirms the distances.

 

     The Quartermaster’s body temperature rises. The fabric of his robe rustles as he straightens. He is agitated. I have shown him up, but I know that is not the source of his anger. His tightened muscles and quickened heartrate when I’m near is demonstrative. My appearance bothers him. He’s not the first. Men aren’t used to other “men” different than they, especially those with dual brain cavities, snout-like mouths, ear slits the length of their forearm, and smooth rounded-over knolls where eyes “should be.” It’s a bias I have dealt with my entire career. But I can’t worry about his prejudice now.

 

     He opens his mouth to speak when we are thrown to the deckplates. I keep myself upright given my wider stance, but I feel my crew clutch for purchase. Another blast. We all go down.

 

     “We’re dead!” The weaselly quartermaster has lost his nerve. “How can you follow this blind beast? He’s killed us!”

 

     Heavy steps thunder to him. His lapels are clenched in a pair of closed fists.

​

     “Say that one more time…” My XO is as irritated by our guest as I am.

​

     The quartermaster struggles to get free. “Put me down! You have no right to treat me like this. I am the chief procurement officer for the fleet. If you don’t safely get me and my cargo to the capital, your entire force will be moth-balled.” He speaks of authority, but there is none in his voice. Unfortunately, he is not wrong.

​

     “Incoming!” Avery alerts.

​

     “All hands, brace for impact.” I pray to Ninovox they do.

​

     The riotous marriage of thud and boom rock my ship like a supernova.

​

     A claxon warning blares. Decompression damage.

​

     “Where, Mr. Hoon?”

​

     “Level Gamma, sections 1 and 2,” the XO replies, dropping the civilian. “They’re targeting it dead-on every time. You could drive a semi through that hole!”

​

     A “semi”? Another Earth reference I need to learn. Later.

​

     “Shuttle disengaging from the main ship,” Avery reports.

​

     “Heading?”

​

     “Directly beneath us, toward the boarding hatch.”

​

     The hatch? Then why fire at Gamma?  

​

     Caustic smoke burns my olfactory slits as my station erupts into plasma-fueled sparks. “Evacuate all levels to Beta or above!”

​

     “Aye, sir. Beta or above.” The XO repeats the order to the chief petty officer, who relays it to the rest of the ship.

​

     “You’re running away?” The quartermaster’s voice cracks as he runs to me. “You should be sending everyone to…repel them! How did such a coward become a captain?”

​

     Rapid steps again. The squelch of bare flesh impacting on bare flesh. A heavy thud at my feet. The quartermaster’s breath quickens. He is still conscious, though at a loss for words. 

​

     “Sorry, sir,” the XO says. “I thought I heard something.” His face is flush with blood. It pulses at his right fist.

​

     A shudder vibrates at my feet, only it does not come from the man lying there. “They’ve boarded,” I say.

​

     “Yes, sir,” the tactical officer says. “Ten, possibly eleven intruders.”

​

     I raise my nostrils to the vent above my station. “No. Thirteen. And they’ve obviously been in space a long time.” I push my three fingers into the nodes at the tactical station. The electrical pulses surge up to my primary lobe. “Private, open the broadside doors. Load our cannons but do not prime them yet.”

 

     “Sir?”

​

     No time to explain. “Are the lower levels clear?”

​

     “Yes, sir,” the XO calls from the far station.

​

     I sniff the vent again. The intruders are moving. Almost there. “Boarders’ position?”

​

     “Gamma-2, sir. They just compressed the central hold.”

​

     Of course. The ore. Without it, the future of the fleet is doomed. I strain my auditory organs. The soft clang-hiss of a hatch sealing. “Are they all inside?”

​

     “Yes, sir,” XO Hoon says.  

​

     The quartermaster rises to his feet, hand stroking his jaw, but he remains silent.

​

     “Prime the cannons, Mr. Avery. XO, lay in an emergency corkscrew maneuver. Take the bow ninety-degrees straight up with full 360 rotation. Prepare to open every door and hatch on Gamma level and execute corkscrew. Simultaneous actions, on my mark. Mr. Avery, as we rise, let those xoltols have it.”

​

     Everyone tenses but I feel their readiness. I focus on the electrical signals feeding into my lobe.

The ore bins are moving to the large opening in the hull. Yes, their plan will be toss them out the massive hole in my hull to the surrounding ships, which stand ready to receive their prize.

​

     “Execute!”

​

     A burst of escaping air combined with the blast of the engines rockets the ship upward. The force throws the crew against or out of their seats. Deckplates quake as every broadside cannon shot tears through the invaders like meteors through cheese. Amid the chaos, I perceive the material that will rebuild the fleet drifting into the void, speckled with flecks of freezing flesh.

​

     In an instant, the battle is won.

​

     “I don’t…how?” the quartermaster stutters. “You beat them!”

​

     Many of the crew chuckle at his surprise as they hoist themselves back to their stations.

​

     “Of course, we did,” I say, returning to my burned-out station. “Now, let’s retrieve that ore and be on our way.”