“We understand. We’ll dump the contents of hold number seven. Three large containers of prime ore will be disbursed.”

  “Three?” demanded the pirate, irate all over again. “Only three? That’s unprocessed excrement!”

  “It will be prime materials, I assure you. Scan the asteroid we’ve just mined. It was a rich strike.”

  “Bah, we’ve already done that. Why do you think we’re here? We were alerted to your presence by a friend who spotted you, and we raced to find you stealing our resources, just as was said.”

  Captain Hansen narrowed her eyes at this. So did I.

  A friend had alerted the pirates? That must have been the claim-jumper ship we’d chased off. Had they done that out of sheer spite? It seemed to me that they must have. What a dirty trick. I was no longer feeling sorry for the man I’d killed back there and left to float forever on that rock.

  “We’ll make sure that the ore we release is of good quality,” Captain Hansen assured the angry pirate.

  At this, a howl of anguish was released from behind her, offscreen. I thought it sounded like the voice of the ship’s chief accountant Blackwood.

  Eventually, the pirates accepted our deal and several large bins of ore were released to float in space. Then, Borag’s engines ignited again and the ship slid away from the pirates, who greedily swarmed the meager prize they’d garnered.

  “All hands,” Captain Hansen said over the ship’s speakers. “Brace yourselves. We’re going to full burn to exit this region.”

  “It’s about damned time!” Sergeant Cox shouted, clapping his hands.

  We all raced to flip-down our jump-seats and secure harnesses. The big ship trembled under our feet. We were all pressed back, feeling a full G of acceleration—maybe more. The others seemed like this was a burden to them, but I almost enjoyed the sensation.

  “What do you think was in those crates?” I asked Ledbetter.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Spare socks, probably. Hansen and Blackwood—they don’t give up on their loot easily.”

  I reflected on that statement. It seemed to me that Ledbetter had a point. Blackwood had had a fit… but had the captain really ordered him to dump the good stuff? It was a box without any labels. She’d only left it as breadcrumbs, not as an honest offering. We owed these pirates nothing but death.

  Still, her move had allowed the enemy captain to exit the situation without killing all of us. It had been well-played, if you asked me.

  The fact that we were racing away from the scene at this very moment, at maximum burn, seemed like the right move no matter what the final result was going to be.

  Suddenly, however, a new alert sounded. It was a flashing blue, and I’d never seen it before.

  We looked around at the ceiling of our ready room, gawking and reading displayed notices. They all said the same thing:

  Missile launch detected.

  Chapter 9: Three Missiles

  As Borag raced through space, three missiles trailed close behind, each leaving a fiery trail in its wake. All three of the pirate raiders had launched a single missile after us, and they were all built with different home-brew designs.

  The first missile was long and slender, with a pointed nose and sleek design. It seemed to be the fastest of the three, darting side-to-side as it attempted to catch up with the mining rig.

  The second missile was a bulky and heavily armored model, with a square body and a pair of large, thruster engines. It moved more slowly than the first, but seemed to be more resilient, shaking off the debris that peppered its hull as it continued to pursue its target.

  The third missile was the largest of the three, and the most terrifying to behold. It had a massive body and a thick, stubby nose, and seemed to be filled with enough explosives to blow a hole in the side of a planet. Its engines roared like a hurricane, propelling it forward with incredible force.

  Despite their different designs, all three missiles shared one common goal: to destroy Borag and everyone aboard her. As they continued to chase the ship, their warheads primed and ready to detonate, the crew of our mining rig could only hold their breath and hope for a miracle.

  “Holy shit…” Sergeant Cox said. “Looks like the pirates didn’t like the gift boxes Captain Hansen packed for them.”

  “Yeah,” Corporal Tench agreed. “She must have filled them with sewage from the miners’ bilge.”

  The remarks were amusing, but no one laughed. Quite possibly, we were all doomed now.

  I felt a flash of anger. Why hadn’t they left the pirates something good? Something good enough to make them leave us alone, anyway.

  It had to be that dick, Blackwood. He was the numbers man. The ship’s accountant held onto every credit piece like it was dipped in gold and honey at the same time.

  We were still accelerating, but as the effect was steady now, we were able to release our harnesses and walk around freely. I noticed the others—especially the thinnest of them—were having difficulty. Me, with my earth-grown body, felt good. Normal, in fact. For once, I could move around the ship more easily than anyone else in the squad.

  “Attention! Commander on the deck!”

  We all snapped to attention. Commander Kaine prowled in, and he walked among us. As he hadn’t called for anyone to stand at ease, we maintained our rigid poses, swaying slightly as the big ship kept accelerating.

  The deck was vibrating under our boots. Creaking sounds of stressed metal came from the hull now and then, sounding like whale calls.

  Finally, Commander Kaine stopped in front of me and Ledbetter.

  “You two—you’re it. Follow me.”

  Bewildered, we fell into step behind the commander. I had to admit, the man must work out regularly. He could walk in full gravity without a qualm. Ledbetter did okay, but I could see he was sweating already.

  Commander Kaine led us up to the bridge. He didn’t tell us squat until we reached the big, closed hatch.

  He put a hand on the wheel to open it, then paused and turned to us. “I’ve received a private text from the captain. She’s asked for security forces on the bridge. She asked for me to send my two most discreet and capable men. I’ve chosen you two idiots for the job. Your mission is dead simple, boys. You’re going to stand watch on this deck. You’re not going to hear, see, or later on talk about anything that happens here. You got that?”

  “Sir-yes-sir!” Ledbetter and I said in unison.

  “Good. If I hear word one about you guys bragging or gossiping later, I’m going to cut off your dicks in slices. You got that?”

  “Sir-yes-sir!”

  Commander Kaine nodded. “All right. If Captain Hansen gives you an order—do it. No questions. No thoughts. No hesitation.”

  With that, he swung open the big door, and we stepped onto the bridge for the first time.

  The moment we were inside, the big door clanged shut again. Commander Kaine was on the far side of it.

  Not knowing what else to do, Ledbetter and I stood in front of the door, looking tough. The conversation in the chamber came to a halt when we arrived. A dozen pairs of eyes glanced our way.

  No one seemed happy to see us—not even Captain Hansen bothered to smile or nod. For just a second her eyes met mine, however. Was that a flicker of recognition? I thought maybe it was. She had, after all, made a point of elevating me to the role of a ship’s marine just weeks earlier.

  Borag’s bridge was a spacious, circular chamber located in the center of the ship’s command deck. The room was brightly lit, with large view screens mounted on the walls that displayed various readouts and data feeds. In the center of the chamber was a circular command console, which could be raised or lowered to accommodate different crew members.

  The crew of officers serving on Borag’s bridge were a well-trained and highly skilled group of professionals. They were responsible for piloting the ship, monitoring its systems, and overseeing its operations.

  At the head of the bridge was the captain’s chair, a high-backed, leather seat that swiveled and tilted to provide a comfortable position for the ship’s commanding officer. To the right of the captain’s chair was the helm, where the ship’s pilot sat, steering the vessel through space.

  To the left of the captain’s chair was the navigation console, where the navigator plotted the ship’s course and monitored its progress. In front of the captain’s chair was the communication’s station, where the ship’s communications officer watched all incoming and outgoing transmissions.

  Other crew members worked at various stations throughout the bridge, monitoring different systems and keeping track of the ship’s status. Despite the pressure and danger of their jobs, the officers on Borag’s bridge remained calm and focused, carrying out their duties with skill and professionalism.

  “The math is clear,” the navigator said. “We’ll be caught and destroyed before the missiles run out of fuel.”

  “What can we do?” Captain Hansen asked.

  The officers all looked at each other warily. “There’s only one option, sir,” the Chief Engineer said. “And I think you know what it is. We can’t increase our thrust, so we’ll have to reduce our weight…”

  The ship’s accountant Blackwood flew into a sudden rage. He beat a skinny fist on a console. “No! No, not again! We’re not dumping our payload—don’t even think about it!”

  Captain Hansen looked at him, then turned her eyes back to the engineer. “How much weight do we have to lose?”

  The man did some quick calculations. “Sixty percent of the contents of the main hold—seventy to be sure.”

  “Seventy it is, then. Prioritize the value of the various ejections. Throw the cheap stuff out first.”

  “Dammit!” Blackwood said with mournful, helpless anger. “We were so close to profit this time…”

  Captain Hansen eyed him coldly. “Maybe if you hadn’t insisted that we stuff those crates with worthless shale, the pirates might not have fired upon us!”

  Blackwood stood, lengthening his freakishly tall, thin frame to its maximum height. I knew that was quite an effort for him, now that we were under the stress of real gravity from Borag’s engines. “I take no such responsibility. All final decisions lay with the captain—that’s the rule on any ship. I’m just saying I don’t think I can cover this kind of deficit, ma’am. Not this time, not again. You’ll have my resignation by the time we reach Mars.”

  Hansen barely glanced at him. “So noted.” She pointed at Blackwood and the engineer. “You two are dismissed, you’ve got a lot of dumping to do. Don’t take your time.”

  The two men hustled out past us, and I dared to sneak a look at Ledbetter. He looked as freaked-out as I was feeling.

  We were dumping our payload? What did that mean to the debts all the contracts had on their books? Were they going to get credit for their work, or were they going to be screwed over yet again?

  I already knew the answer. Some clause in their contracts would erase everything, making it all seem like the miners themselves had something to do with this calamity. Hell, they’d be lucky if their debts weren’t doubled in some “shared indemnity” plan to spread out the damage and make it look like the ship itself hadn’t lost as much as it had.

  Captain Hansen looked around the room at all the glum faces. “It should be obvious,” she said, “that my decision wasn’t made with any malice or relish. I stand to lose out just as much as the rest of you. It’s time to dump most of our payload—or die. I’d rather breathe than enjoy profits. If any of you here feel differently, there’s a garbage chute just down the main passageway on the left side. I’m sure Private Starn here would be glad to stuff anyone into it who needs some help. If your limbs don’t fit, we’ll edit those, too.”

  I was stunned to be called out. I felt the eyes of everyone on the bridge for a moment. I kind of felt like laughing, but I knew no one else was in that sort of mood, so I decided to play the thug Captain Hansen wanted me to be.

  I stared straight ahead, face like stone. I lifted my rifle a bit higher, holding it across my chest plate, as if I was ready and willing to perform any heinous act the captain might order me to do. For emphasis, I snapped the bolt on my weapon. The metallic sound was loud in the sudden quiet.

  The act worked. A few of them mumbled about brutes from Earth, but most simply sulked. Their eyes slid away from me again, and the officers all focused on one another.

  They fell to talking over details. They bickered about what weight-to-value ratio items they should keep and which ones they shouldn’t.

  Down below, I could hear big doors chunking open and our ship went into a gentle spiral.

  The navigator explained that flying in a slight spiral would spread the dumped matter into a field behind us. With luck, it might even destroy the missiles that were chasing us.

  We were dumping our ore—all that hard work, all that money. Men had died to collect it all, and I felt sick about it.

  I didn’t let my despair show, of course. I maintained the broad-shouldered marine look, ready and able. No one dared to look me in the eye again.

  It took several sweaty hours to play out, but at last the three missiles drew close. As Borag continued to accelerate away from the pursuing missiles, her cargo holds dumped a long stream of dust and debris in her wake.

  This was a common tactic used by ships in space combat, as the debris could interfere with the guidance systems and actually destroy incoming missiles if they hit a chunk of rock at great speed.

  The three missiles launched by the pirate ships were eventually caught up in the field of debris. Two collided with chunks of rock and metal, exploding in a shower of sparks and shrapnel.

  Everyone on the bridge cheered when we saw this. Even Ledbetter and I pumped a fist in the air. We couldn’t help it, but then, at a stern glance from the captain we went back to playing statues.

  The last missile was smarter than the rest. Long and thin, the missile resembled a flying pencil. After appearing to spin out of control, it righted itself and kept on coming.

  “That one is smart,” the navigator said. She seemed to admire the thing’s tiny electric brain. “It’s recognized the danger and changed course.”

  “Unlimber the aft guns. Let the computers do the aiming.”

  The bridge fell silent again. The enemy missile was on our trail. When we changed course, it did the same. It was flying off to one side now, on a parallel course to avoid the debris. Once it got close enough, however…

  “Let it get closer,” Captain Hansen told the tactical weapons officer.

  I could tell just by looking at him that he wanted to fire right now, but he obeyed his captain.

  We all waited in relative quiet for about seven minutes—then the weapons man spoke up. “Sir, if let it get any closer, we might fall into the blast radius. We don’t know what the yield will be on that warhead, and—”

  “All right. Shoot it down—and don’t miss.”

  The tactical officer made some final adjustments and double-tapped the kill command.

  Borag shuddered as a long stream of tiny particles were fired into space. The missile was still thousands of miles off, but it was closing in on us fast. I could tell its tiny, artificial brain really wanted to finish us off.

  “First volley is a miss,” the tactical man said. “Reloading the magazine.”

  “Fire again,” Captain Hansen said.

  “But ma’am, we have to let the barrel cool down. All the accelerated—”

  “I don’t care about your gun’s health! It’s changing course. It’s starting to evade us. Fire again!”

  It was true. The smart missile was a sleek, silver bullet with a long tail of flame trailing behind it. As it approached Borag, it began to twist and turn, making erratic movements to avoid the ship’s defensive fire. Its movements were fluid and almost organic, as if it were alive.

  The missile’s onboard computer was constantly analyzing the ship’s movements and making adjustments to its flight path. It was programmed to evade defensive fire and find the weakest point in Borag’s armor to strike.

  As it got closer to the ship, the missile’s movements became even more erratic. It would suddenly change direction, banking hard to the left or right, then darting back in the opposite direction. The ship’s defensive systems were struggling to keep up, and several shots missed their mark.

  The missile was getting dangerously close to Borag, but it still hadn’t connected. The ship’s crew could see it through the bridge windows, a bright silver dot moving rapidly across the blackness of space.

  Suddenly, the missile made a sharp turn, banking hard to the left. It appeared to be heading straight for the ship’s engines. The crew braced themselves for impact, but at the last second, the tactical officer’s spraying projectiles connected. Mortally wounded, the missile veered off and exploded harmlessly in the empty void of space.

  On the bridge of Borag, the officers had watched the spectacle unfold on their monitors. As the last of the missiles exploded, the tension on the bridge began to ease. Captain Hansen allowed herself a small smile before turning to her crew.

  “Good work, everyone,” she said. “Let’s keep this up and get back to port in one piece.” The crew nodded in agreement and got back to their stations, ready for whatever came next.

  Chapter 10: Mars Colony

  Borag reached safety at the Mars-One spaceport over a month later. The ship gradually docked at the cylindrical space station, which was made up of a series of concentric rings. The rings rotated around a central hub to create artificial gravity, allowing people and objects to move about as if they were on solid ground. There were docking ports evenly spaced along its circumference.

  As the crew disembarked from Borag, we could see Mars City. It appeared as a multi-domed sprawling colony on the surface of Mars far below.

  Beyond the cluster of domes, terraforming factories shaped like massive pyramids continuously chugged out gasses into the sky. These days the planet had clouds and even occasional rain. It would take decades more, however, before a human could walk on the surface without freezing or suffocating.