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  The crossfire continued for another minute before reinforcements arrived. Dressed in black armor with the blue eagle of Gilead painted across their breastplates, the Rangers of Gilead were among the best warriors in known space. They entered the room through the gateway and secured the area almost immediately. Windham was back on his feet as soon as the reavers were dead, but there was no time to celebrate. It felt like an eternity since he had seen Captain Wyatt escape out the back with that poor girl, and he meant to rescue her. He turned to the nearest ranger.

  “I need a pulse grenade.”

  “Sai?”

  “Right now!”

  “Yes, sai.”

  The ranger unclipped a pulse grenade from his utility belt and handed it to the captain. Windham took the weapon and made a B-line for the door at the back of the stage. It took the ranger a moment to realize that his commander was likely rushing headlong into danger before he followed behind.

  Windham reached the door, pulled it open, and stared into a long corridor the stretched off into the distance. Wyatt and the girl were down there somewhere and he had to find them. He tapped his earpiece once again.

  “Ward... Grayson, are you there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Keep a lock on the Saladin. Whatever you do, don’t let them escape.”

  “I’m doing my best. All hell is—”

  “Wyatt is trying to escape with a prisoner,” Windham said, “we’re not going to let that happen. ”

  “10-4.” The transmission cut off abruptly, but Windham didn’t have time to worry about that right now. He plunged into the corridor in search of his quarry.

  * * *

  Outside the station, Gilead was in the midst of a titanic space battle. Ward had dropped her cloak just as soon as they hacked into Chibok’s gateway system, and the sight of a Jerusalem-class starship emerging out of the night must have given all of those little captains a fright. Gilead was one of the largest and fastest ships ever built, and even though she was outnumbered, the odds were completely in her favor.

  “Open a channel,” said Ward.

  “Yes, sai.”

  The first mate straightened in the captain’s chair. “This is Grayson Ward, acting captain of the starship Gilead. Drop your shields, surrender your vessels, and prepare to be boarded.”

  Ward didn’t expect anyone to comply, but some deep-seated sense of mercy prevented him from just slaughtering people without warning. On the other hand, these bastards had come out here to purchase human slaves, and he didn’t expect them to turn themselves in without a fight. He wasn’t surprised in the least when half a dozen small ships opened fire on Gilead.

  “I warned you,” he whispered to no one in particular.

  Disruptor fire streamed across the darkness of space, but it crashed against Gilead’s shields and had no effect. The old ship was built for war, and her shield generators had been updated frequently over the centuries. Each disruptor blast revealed a section of the otherwise invisible shield for a fraction of a second, and then the energy was absorbed and another section lit up as enemy fire came in from all sides.

  “Shields are holding,” said the tactical officer.

  “Target all ships and fire.”

  Disruptor cannons all over Gilead erupted with fire. Multiple blasts pulsed from the ship and toward the enemy fleet as timed windows opened and closed in the shields, allowing the destructive blasts to hit their targets. Each blast reduced the enemy’s shields, and once they collapsed, Gilead could destroy them with her torpedoes.

  Not far away, on the far side of the station, the starship Saladin entered the fight. She was the only vessel here that gave Grayson pause. The Saladin was a legendary pirate ship, and her crew was notoriously cunning.

  “The Saladin is powering up weapons,” said the tactical officer.

  Ward braced for impact. “Let’s show those reavers what we’re made of.”

  * * *

  Windham found his quarry about a hundred meters down the escape corridor. Wyatt had paused in front of a gateway alcove, and was desperately trying to gain access to his ship with one hand while gripping the struggling slave girl with the other.

  “Stop your cursed struggling, girl,” Wyatt snapped. “I’ll get this gateway unlocked in a minute and we’ll—”

  “Let her go, Braedon.”

  The reaver captain turned to face Windham. He was trembling with rage, you could see it on his face. How much money had he lost in this little excursion?

  “Stop right there,” said Wyatt. “Drop your weapon.”

  Windham slowed down momentarily, but instead of stopping, he tossed the pulse grenade he’d procured back in the auction room. It landed about halfway between the two warriors, and detonated upon impact. Everything went dark in a fifty-meter radius around the grenade. The grenade emitted an electromagnetic pulse that interfered with anything electronic, rendering it useless for about a minute. The corridor went dark, but there was still a bit of dim light from some glow-in-the-dark emergency panels built into the ceiling.

  The reaver was momentarily stunned, and Windham took the opportunity to rush at his enemy. He barreled into the gloomy darkness, and when he drew near to Wyatt, he swung his now useless disruptor rifle at the reaver’s face. Plastic met flesh with a sickening crack, and Wyatt stumbled backward several steps. But he did not fall.

  The girl slithered out of her captor’s grasp, and ran toward the perimeter of darkness created by the EMP.

  Windham swung his disruptor again, but Wyatt caught it in mid-air and the two men struggled over the weapon. The reaver nearly gained control of the rifle, but Windham let go of it just as Wyatt tugged hard, and went toppling over backward. The disruptor went flying toward the girl.

  The two captains hit the ground with a thud and wrestled in the darkness. Windham was on top at first, but his foe brought up an armored knee, hitting Manthus in the groin. He slumped over in agony as Wyatt climbed on top of him and wrapped his hands around Windham’s throat. Time slowed as Gilead’s captain struggled for breath.

  Not far away, the girl darted back, grabbed the lost disruptor rifle, and stepped into the light. She stood on the perimeter of the EMP, raised the weapon, and fired nine blasts into the shadows. The first three were absorbed by Wyatt’s armor, but the rest left half a dozen six-centimeter holes in the reaver’s back. He slumped backward and thudded to the floor.

  Windham caught his breath, then checked his enemy’s vitals. He turned to face the terrified girl who was still clutching the disruptor rifle. “He’s dead.”

  She stared at him, too traumatized to be ashamed at her nakedness. “Good.”

  Windham stood slowly, unbuttoning his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded. She was still holding the disruptor and clearly knew how to use it.

  “Put this on,” said the captain. He handed her the shirt and then turned his back so that she could cover herself in private.

  The lights came back on while they were walking back to the auction room.

  “What’s your name?” Windham asked as they walked.

  “Eowyn Morrison.”

  “Your father is the governor of Avalon.”

  “Yeah.” Her head slumped, as if the weight of everything that had happened had fallen suddenly upon her brow,

  “I’m Captain Windham Manthus of the starship Gilead.”

  “Gilead?” She looked up, surprised.

  “That’s right. Your father asked me to help... to come here and rescue the children of Avalon. But it looks like you had the situation under control yourself.”

  She gave out a bitter laugh.

  “You were very brave, Eowyn. How old are you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “You have the spirit of a warrior.”

  “I don’t want to be a warrior,” she said. “I just want to live in peace.”

  “As do we all,” said the captain. “As do we all.”

  * * *

 
The Saladin hit Gilead with a massive burst of disruptor fire and the old ship’s shields nearly buckled.

  “We’re down to fifteen percent,” said the tactical officer.

  “Direct all our disruptors at the Saladin and fire,” ordered Grayson.

  “Yes, sai.”

  Gilead floated in a graveyard of destroyed enemy vessels. The smart ones had fled, realizing that was their only hope for survival. The remaining enemy ships had put up quite a struggle, but most were no match for Gilead and were easily destroyed. Only a handful remained. The Saladin was the cream of the crop, and she was fighting for her life. These space pirates had been plaguing Gilead’s barony for decades, and now Grayson had an opportunity to end their conflict once and for all.

  Half a hundred bursts of disrupter fire tore across the black and crackled against Saladin’s shields; they buckled.

  The commander of the Saladin had a second—maybe two—to decide if they would stay and die or live to fight another day. He chose to retreat. The pirate vessel vanished as it went to warp, leaving her captain dying on the floor of Chibok Station.

  “Good work,” Grayson said. “Now, let’s bring our people home.”

  * * *

  The children of Avalon boarded Gilead, thankful that their ordeal had not ended in a life of slavery. As the old ship left orbit, Windham ordered a spread of torpedoes launched against Chibok Station, utterly destroying that particular den of thieves. Gilead proceeded back to Cheron-4 at maximum warp, and as the hours stretched past, he became acquainted with the people he had helped rescue. These young people—there were children among the refuges, but many were in their late teens or early twenties—were the future of Avalon, and he wanted them to see Gilead as a friend when their own turns came to lead their community. As for Eowyn Morrison, she seemed particularly aloof. She had been exposed to a room full of monsters who wanted to commit her to a life of slavery, and even though she had escaped that terrible fate, she carried the weight of that alternate future on her young shoulders.

  The governor threw an enormous celebration when Gilead reached Cheron-4. Everyone in Avalon attended the party, and speeches were made as thankful parents vowed their loyalty to Windham and his descendents. During the celebration, Governor Morrison formally restored Avalon’s relationship with the starship Gilead to the cheers of the gathered assembly. As the citizens of Avalon and the crew of Gilead watched, Morrison led his daughter onto the makeshift stage at the center of the celebration. He motioned for the crowd to hush, and they obeyed him, sensing that something significant was about to happen.

  “Thank you, Captain Manthus, for returning my daughter to me.”

  “It was an honor,” Windham said.

  Eowyn looked painfully shy standing there in front of everyone. She tried to maintain eye contact with Windham, but every time he looked at her all he could see was fear in her eyes.

  “I’m not sure how to say this, sai, so I’ll just come out with it.” The governor looked nervous, like whatever he was about to say was weighing heavily on his heart. “It is customary to seal an agreement with a marriage. My daughter was promised to the prince of the starship Jericho, but of course I cannot in good conscience honor that agreement.”

  “Of course not.” Windham’s blood stirred at the thought of beautiful Eowyn in the arms of Captain Gaines’s idiot son. She seemed so troubled on their voyage home, and he wanted so much to see joy and hope in her eyes.

  “I would be honored,” Morrison said, “if you would take her as your wife.”

  This sort of thing had always bothered Windham—men of power arranging their daughter’s marriages without their consent—but after the collapse of the Union, such things had become customary in the outer baronies. He could imagine another life for himself—one where he wasn’t responsible for a starship and an entire barony. What would it be like to live on farm outside of Avalon, tending livestock and falling in love with a country girl as they worked the land together? Unfortunately, this was not the life that fate had given him, and Windham knew that it would be a terrible insult if he were to refuse the governor’s offer.

  “I would be honored to marry your daughter,” said the captain.

  “Then let it be so,” the governor said. He took Eowyn’s hands and joined them with Windham’s. They stood there, before the multitude, and looked into each other’s eyes under a canopy of stars.

  “I know you’ve endured a terrible trauma,” Windham whispered. “And I know that this must be difficult for you, but I will do my best to be a good husband to you. And I hope that you can come to care for me.”

  Eowyn smiled, the fear in her eyes momentarily replaced but a look of hope. “I’ll try,” she said, “if you could just give me some time.”

  “We have all the time in the world,” Windham said. But, unfortunately, they did not.

  There were tears in her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. She reached out and touched his bare face. “I liked you better with the beard.”

  Windham grinned. “I’ll grow one for you.”

  “I’m frightened. A week ago I was tending my garden and dreading my impending wedding to a man I’ve only met once. And now... everything has happened so fast.”

  “For me, too,” said the captain. “But we don’t have to get married tomorrow. We can get to know each other first.”

  “I’d like that.” Eowyn lowered her eyes, clearly embarrassed by whatever she was about to say next. “You... you’re supposed to kiss me now, I think, to seal the arrangement. I’ve never...”

  She blushed pink.

  Windham took her by the shoulders, leaning in close, and kissed her gently on the lips. The gathered crowd cheered as the most powerful man in this region of space embraced one of their own.

  Outside of town, up on a hill that overlooked Avalon, was a cemetery where the bodies of those slain in the reaver attack were laid to rest. A white marble pillar served as a memorial to the fallen, and atop this pillar, mounted on a spike, was the severed head of Braedon Wyatt. His reign of terror was over, but the Saladin was still out there, along with a host of other troubles. Space was a dark and frightening place, but there was one shining beacon of hope and justice in the black—the starship Gilead, Warden of the Night.

  THE END

  © Copyright 2019 Kevin G Summers

  Superiority

  J. Clifton Slater

  Chapter 1

  The Incident

  Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…

  Three spiked barriers fell in rhythm and lifted in turn. They were designed to stab and eliminate vermin crawling over or through the crushed ore. Adding to Sofia Blue’s troubles, the falling points worked on sentient beings as well as pests.

  Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…

  Marshal Sofia Blue didn’t start the day with the goal of scampering over crunched ore and dodging spikes. The morning began with a murder investigation then tumbled downhill from there. Literally downhill.

  Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…

  The marshal braced, preparing to roll down the incline and sandwich her body between the undulating spiked gates. This was not the way Sofia expected the day to unfold when the call came in.

  Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…

  * * *

  The soft buzzing alerted the marshal to an incoming voice communication.

  “Sofia Blue,” she answered.

  “I know who I am calling, Blue,” Francis stated.

  “Francis. Is this a social call or is there an issue?” Sofia joked.

  In all the orbits she had known Francis, none of the calls had been to express niceties or merely pass the time.

  “Not humorous, Blue. There are two issues. One immediate and the other for later, but in reverse order for their magnitude of importance.”

  “I assume one concerns me. Let me guess, the immediate one?”

  “One of our Emotional species has expired in the Raw Ore Intake section. Statistically, there is a sixty per
cent likelihood of it being an industrial accident. However, in light of the second issue, I need the incident investigated.”

  “You’ve called the correct division,” Sofia announced.

  As the industrial station’s only law enforcement entity, if Francis needed a detective, someone to break up a brawl, a food fight, or remove vermin, the call came to Marshal Blue. She unplugged the news feed, pulled on her helmet, and strapped on an eliminator. Then she belted on the big iron pistol because a trip to the industrial area of the platform might require heavier weaponry.

  “I’m on the way,” she informed Francis. “Do you want to tell me the other thing, or are you going to keep me in suspense?”

  “Truthfully, I never considered the possibility that you had the capacity for uncertainty or confusion,” Francis commented.

  “I’m neither, just curious.”

  “The subject is in flux,” Francis remarked. “Once it has been properly scheduled, you will receive the information if you are among the need to know personnel.”

  “Point of logic, Francis. If the second issue impacts my investigation,” Sofia explained, “shouldn’t your marshal know sooner than the corporate pecking order allows?”

  “Eating, nibbling, poking…order?”

  “You need to get out more, Francis. Pecking order is the weighted judgment of who should have access to the information.”

  “I will check and see if it is germane to your investigation.”

  “That’s not really your decision, Francis.”

  “Expound on the decision process.”

  “I’m the investigator. I should decide if it’s important to the examination and has a bearing on the final report. I am, after all, the marshal.”

  “Point taken. I will advise.”

  Then Francis, as happened every time they communicated, was gone. No fare-thee-well or have a nice day, just gone.

  * * *

  The corridor outside the marshal’s office was empty of Emotionals and bots. Not unusual considering the enormous industrial station was mostly automated. The entire population of the space station consisted of Emotional species for flexibility of process, logical AIs for consistency of production, and smart-bots for maintenance. All of them spread across a moon-sized industrial station. And all kept in order and at peace by Sofia Blue.