Benevolence

Captain Phillips comes to me with a smirk on his face. “Those sensors we got up in the Little Engine’s drones are detecting gravity disturbances. Seems like we’re gonna be getting some company soon.”

I chuckle. “Welp, Thommy, I figured those silly folks would be back eventually. I guess it’s time to have some fun.” I start to stretch as I let out a sigh.

“Do you want our Bombard up, or is the Engine going to be enough for you?” Thom asks.

“No thanks. I kind of want to punch something,” I admit.

Thom exhales. “Fine,” he says, clearly disappointed. I follow him out to his shuttle. He gets in and tosses me a headset. “Are you set, Boss Chan?”

I put the headset on and climb onto the shuttle. Literally. Taking a breath, I whisper, “Let’s do this,” and feel as the electricity sparks across my body. Arching down my spine. It does feel good. As the rush hits, I press the mic’s talk button. “All set here.” Below me, the shuttle begins to lurch without warning. Not that I need it. It’s just polite. A minor irritation. But Thom isn’t just your average, run of the mill rude person. He knows us. He specialized in it. And he knows that irritation is a weapon. I can feel my skin crawl as the ship shoots up through the atmosphere, as the friction with the air itself burns away at it, layer by layer. And as my companion replaces every cell it has lost. It feels like hell. And yet, the rush is incomparable. I can’t help but bite my lip. Unfortunately, as I go to bite it, it’s too weak and slides right off into the aether, only to begin to scab up and grow back out almost instantaneously. There is, of course, a tenth of a nanosecond delay. Technically 0.108. Frustratingly noticeable. But the more nuanced the regrowth, the longer it takes. Still I’m out of practice. No, not me. My companion. “I need a geek,” I mutter to us both, making certain the mic is off as the friction stops. Not because we stopped, but because the molecules are far enough apart now that it’s smooth sailing.

To anyone else, save a few notable exceptions, standing outside a transit shuttle speeding through open space would have deadly consequences. I, on the other hand, glare out of boredom, staring intently at the drones. Out on the edge of the system. They’d detected the gravity disturbances drawing near. They’re to blame for this frustration. Taking me away from my life of glorious freedom and relaxation and encouraging violence. No, again I’m redirecting my frustration to the wrong place. I need to wait on the arrival of the Service.

Once we’ve made it to the ship, I don’t bother going inside. My bombard, the old flagship of the Fourth Service Fleet, which joined my collection of property minutes prior to this ship, has places for me to wait in luxury that are close to my retrofitted escape pods. No such luck here. Because Captain Phillips insisted on doing things oldschool. I climb around to the missile tubes, and wait.

A few minutes pass. Then, as though splitting through space itself, a pair of ships. Not nearly nice enough to be Service vessels. What are marauders doing in my home? “Those aren’t Service, and they’re calling. Any preferences?”

Straddling the missile tube, ready to ride one, I shrug. “Both look kinda lame. Have the drones scan them while we chat, see if there’s anything fun hidden away.”

“Alrighty, opening the call,” he replies, keeping the channel open as he opens up the discussion.

There’s some static, then another voice comes on. I don’t recognize it. “Listen here, Service deserters, I can respect that, but let us pass through behind their lines and there won’t be any trouble.”

I can’t help but smirk. “Whatever you end up doing, there won’t be much of any trouble. What are you doing in my home?”

“Just passing through to avoid the push,” A second voice says. Two ships, no single captain. I get a message.

“Avoid the push?” I ask aloud as I open it up. It seems the smaller of the two does indeed have some fun toys for me. A high grade weapons platform. Nuclear capable. Nice addition to my bombard.

“Isn’t the war why you deserted?” the second voice asks.

The first voice quickly says, “Shut up.”

I sigh. “Sorry, but I deserted a long time ago. And this system is mine. But I am a kind, benevolent ruler, so I’ll give you a deal. I can’t have you people thinking you can travel through here willy-nilly. What will everyone think? I’ll be taking that smaller ship off your hands. But I do try not to be cruel. Except on Thursdays. It’s not Thursday, so, anyone not interested in retiring to a relatively safe life and future in my home under my kind and benevolent leadership feel free to get in your escape pods and I’ll let the big ship pick you up before they leave.” I give them an offer of compromise. Fair, and not even violent. If they accept it, Thom will be grumpy. But it isn’t Thursday.

They, of course, do not. Voice one laughs. “What is a little Service destroyer that’s clearly an old model going to do to us?” they mock.

I sigh. “Toss me at the little one, then you can do whatever you want with the big one, Cap.”

“Alright, boss,” he says. I wait for my companion to register the movement of the missile within the ship before I begin to wrap my legs around the exit, and squeeze. The missile lurches out, accepting me as its passenger. I scoot back, so that ideally the explosion, which is forward facing, will only mildly injure me. The Little Engine is starting to whirl around to go head on at the larger marauder. They really are a crazy bunch. The missile makes contact and explodes. One minor charge isn’t enough to break through of course. I can tell they’re probably mocking Captain Phillips in there. But it does leave a crack in the exterior plating. And that gives me leverage.

Wrenching open the panels I make it through the hull with ease. Then it’s time to find an interior port. Ships like these always have some internal comms. My companion starts to lead me to an access point. Says we’re in the dormitories area. A pair of people in spacesuits are walking through, heading for the breach. When they see me, they pause for a moment of shock at my presence, in terms of both my size and the fact that I am clearly not one of theirs but am in their ship, then move to fire. Unfortunately for them, the pause was long enough for me to close the gap, and up close without a weapon ready, they don’t stand a chance.

Leaving the pair of headless corpses in the hallway, I continue to where my companion directs me. Sure enough, there’s a junction box. Touching it, I can feel the electricity jump from my fingers to it to my headset. Through me. And, I guess, through my companion. Though I’m still grumpy with it. It eventually informs me that the link is complete, so I press the button on my headset, and begin to speak. “Hey, people of this ship. This is Chan Yawen, I’m in charge around here, and this ship is mine now. Fortunately for everyone, it isn’t Thursday. Unfortunately, your Captain did refuse my kind and benevolent offer of letting everyone live. So now I’m going to make you guys specifically an offer instead. You see, right now I’m in your dormitory section. I’ll be walking at a calm, leisurely pace to the bridge. If by the time I get there, your captain is already dead, anyone who doesn’t attack or try to stop me will get to live, and we’ll talk about your futures back home. Otherwise, I’ll have to figure out how to pilot this thing on my own and that’s a lot of work. But, everyone has their burdens, I suppose.” Then, with a pause, I add, “Have fun choosing yours.” and I remove my hand from the panel and shut off my mic. People in the dormitory start to stir, upset. Many of them upon seeing my lack of weapons, my massive size, and the headless bodies in the hallway, then do the math and decide not to get in my way. But not all of them. Some of them seem to react like they cared about the corpses and throw themselves at me in anger. Which is frustrating, because it makes my leisurely pace too slow. Now I probably won’t get to see the fun chaos that I’ve wrought on the bridge. But does have the added benefit that, by the time I leave the dorms, I am no longer unarmed.

I start my walk through the corridors. Since urgency isn’t really an issue, I just follow the signs. A group of three pops out of a door, guns ready. Unfortunately for them, we noticed their lurking before I turned into that area of the hall and so I used the lasers I’d armed myself with in the dormitory to strike each of them, weaving my way through the ionized trails. Anyone who’s ever fought one of us knows you need to use less predictable weapons. Kids these days really don’t know anything.

I knock politely on the door to the bridge. “Knock, knock,” I warn them. I begin to ask my companion to unlock and open the door.

“It should be unsealed, just press the button,” a voice says from the other side. So, either this is a trap, or some of these youngins know what’s what. Either way it’ll be interesting, I suppose. My companion informs me that the voice on the other side of the door isn’t lying, so rather than have it press the button, I do. After all, what fun is a trap if you don’t just stumble blindly into it?

As the door opens, I see that it wasn’t a trap. It was, however, yet another fun viewing experience that I missed. I ask my companion to find the security footage from the bridge over the last half hour. Because strewn across the floor is most of the bridge crew. The captain is dead, as are many tough looking people around the captain. And more, facing every which way, seem very badly wounded. “Well, looks like you people live,” I say, “Congrats.” outside, there are a series of lights as the escape pods from that larger ship are being blown to bits by the Little Engine. I look around for the comms officer. I spot a man currently missing an arm and in shock by the terminal. “Hey, which of these opens a channel?” I ask the man. He looks up, horrified at what he’s seen.

From behind, the same voice as earlier says, “You got the right computer. Just need to align the targeting screen and enter the frequency.”

“Thanks, friend,” I say, turning back to give them a nod. She’s a woman, as young as the man missing an arm. She’s seated beneath the captain’s chair, looks like a broken leg, maybe. No bone, so it might be something less serious but equally painful. Covered in blood and holding a knife. Almost looks like a paring knife. Brutal. I remind my companion to get on finding me that video, as I start to type on the comms terminal. Getting the frequency right, I open the channel to the Little Engine and ask, “Hey, Thom. Sorry to interrupt your revelry. This ship’s mine now, but the bridge is mostly dead or dead adjacent. You want any help, or can I start to head back home?”

There’s a pause, before Captain Phillips’s voice returns. “We’re good here. Just gonna be cleaning out, ripping out anything of use, then pushing it off towards our Oort.”

“Alright, see you back in orbit,” I say, turning off the comms. Then with a sigh, I look around. The blood-covered woman gives a nod to the survivors, and a few of them start to move. One guy, slumped over a pilot seat, starts to plot a course home. These people will be good subjects, clearly. Assuming they want to live in our home. “So,” I say to her, “You seem to be running the remainders. Do you know anything about this war thing you guys are running from?”