Anton Smith watched his father in his chair. His father was bent down with his elbows propped on his knees in concentration. Anton sat in the back of the ship’s command deck and out of the way of the rest of the crew. The lights were dim to save power. He knew they were in a jam, though not in so many words, Anton could pick up how anxious the crew was at the moment. He went through what he knew. His father was skipper to The Indigo Virgo, a private merchant vessel. Anton was currently along as a deck cadet to learn about commanding a trade ship, the family business. But there wasn’t much time for teaching about cargo capacity and trade routes now. Twenty minutes ago The Indigo Virgo had made a successful jump and was on stand down to bleed off excess heat from its drive. Fifteen minutes ago an alert was called. Radar had spotted a ship on an intercept course. From long-range photography they determined from its registry and silhouette that it was a known pirate vessel. Their options were to surrender, run, or try and fight the raiders off. His father gave the order to power the ship down to make them look like a derelict. The pirates, thinking they had found an easy mark, drove in towards them. Five minutes ago, at point-blank range The Indigo Virgo opened fire on the pirate vessel with its defensive guns, targeting weapons and cameras, hoping to blind and defang the pirates. The pirates returned fire before retreating. As for The Indigo Virgo, reports were finally coming in.
“Damage report coming in, Skipper,” Chief Officer Tracy said from her seat. She was older than Anton, perhaps in her mid to late twenties, brown skinned and short haired.
Anton’s father looked up from his seat. “Go ahead,” he said.
“Jump drive is down. Seems that was the first thing they hit. Containers 4 and 6 are gone. We’ve got a smattering of structural damage and they knocked out two of our railguns.”
Anton’s father pressed his lips in a thin line. “How long would it take to repair the jump drive?”
“45 hours. Maybe less if we shoestring it.”
“Tell the Chief to make it his top priority.” Tracy nodded and turned back to her station. As she did, Anton watched as his father’s shoulders slumped slightly.
Anton got up from his seat and walked up next to his father. Anton nodded as his father looked up and they met eyes. In a low voice he asked, “Something wrong Skipper?”
“I’ve watched the video feed as the pirate vessel limped away,” his father replied. “We scored some good hits, gave it a bloody nose. But nothing that was irreparable. Those pirates are going to be back. And likely on the inside of 45 hours.”
Anton nodded. “Dad, why did you give the order to play possum with the pirates?”
“It was the best chance we had. If we ran they would’ve pursued. Probably deploy drones if they had any and cut us up from long range. I thought if we hit them hard enough it would give us a chance to escape.” He sighed. “But they had to hit our jump drive.”
Suddenly, Tracy’s called up from her station. “Radar contact skipper!”
Anton’s father bolted up in his seat, they both looked at her in shock. “What? It’s way too soon!”
“I don’t,” Tracy’s voice dropped off into silence before continuing, “I don’t think it’s the pirates.” She sent a video feed up to the monitors hanging from the ceiling of the command deck. A ship came into view, teardrop shaped. It was smoothly curved and a far cry from the boxy utilitarian designs of The Indigo Virgo and the pirate vessel. “It’s eight times larger than the pirate vessel. Ten times larger than us.”
“I-I think I know what it is. If I’m right, there’s only one—” Anton’s father searched for the word, “one being aboard that whole thing. It’s a Swimmer.”
