"Quarter speed," Commander Renthos ordered.

"Aye, quarter speed," the helmsman replied.

With precision and grace the pirate sloop Blight slowed, space shifting around her deadly lines.

"Lt. Barca," Renthos snapped. "What is the status of our cloaking generator?"

A well-groomed pirate turned in his chair to report. A crease formed in his brow, the closest thing he had ever come to receive in the way of a scar. Something was bothering him. "The cloaking generator is operating perfectly, but the coordinates you gave us show nothing there."

"Patience my friend," Renthos beamed. Large rotting teeth revealed themselves between chapped and cracked lips. "The first key to hunting your prey is stalking it."

Barca swung back to his station. He hated his recent posting. He deserved to be on a better ship of the line, like Simbacca's flagship the Kip, or even Jubail's war cruiser, the Harbinger. Instead he was serving on the Blight, a scout ship for the Ravenous battle group. An ugly name for an ugly ship. He might have been second-in-command, but it didn't say much. In fact all it said was dead-end.

"There," Renthos said, after several minutes lingered by. Satisfaction lined his voice as he pointed out into the stars. "I told you these fools were getting braver." He laughed. "Or dumber."

Barca followed his commander's line of sight and saw in the distance one star moved with trepid speed as she cautiously approached Mars outer asteroid belt. At maximum magnification, the star took shape. Soft flowing lines as if several stretched bubbles had come together shone brightly. Light from as many windows as actual hull shining out into the cosmos. There wasn't a prettier ship Barca had ever seen and made his own ship uglier than an asteroid by comparison.

"Lazy terrans want to see more than just vast nothingness on their travels," Renthos explained. "They want to see the cold conflict the universe has within itself as it constantly tears itself apart to be reborn."

"Helmsman, set engines to match encroaching ship. Lt. Barca prepare a message for Captain Cicero of the Ravenous letting him know we have scouted a target. Include the technical's of the liner."

And that was that. Blight would tuck its tail between its legs while real mean reaped the glory. Barca poured over the information on the space liner. The Aurora, a Turglass-class liner, she crewed 30 ship operators and 20 more stewards. She could sail under full-load with about 100 passengers. She was a ripe gem, ready to be plucked.

"Commander," Barca hissed. "We could take the Aurora for ourselves."

"Don't be stupid," the helmsman, Wren, retorted. "There are too many on board."

"You speak like a coward, born of the homeworlds," Barca replied. "We are of the pirate clans, people fear us because we take what we want. Why should we leave the spoils to someone else?"

"This is our duty, we bring honor to our brothers and to the clan."

"Maybe you are satisfied with this duty, but a pirate should always strive for more, it's what we live for," Barca yelled, his nostrils flaring. He pointed at Renthos, "Are you truly satisfied with your station or does your very nature scream to secure your legacy?"

Renthos' hands rasped the armrests of his chair. "I assume you have a plan?"

"The Blight knocks out their communication tower so they can't radio to Martian Planetary Defense or the Exo-Fleet. We hard breach here, by their main observation deck."

"You want to board the ship where the most people will be," Renthos asked. "The Blight carries seventeen pirates. Even we can't keep track of that many people"

"We'll be in space suits and threaten to decompress the hull. Space itself will be our 18th crew member."

Renthos smiled, "You really do think like a pirate. From there we go to the bridge and take command of the vessel."

He tapped a button on console that brought up the intercom system throughout the ship. "This is your commander speaking. We'll be attacking the homeworld filth in twenty minutes. Every single member is to be armed and vacuum-suited in fifteen minutes by the docking collar. For the clans!"

Throughout the ship a series of cheers rang out. Renthos rose from the command chair. He was a large, haggard man, at one point the model warrior for the clans. Time had aged and sagged him, but what warned people were his eyes. They beleaguered a deeper intensity that screamed fire and chaos.

"Barca," he said placing a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Today will be a glorious day. I want you to lead these men into battle."

"What," Barca stumbled over his words. "You are the captain. It is your honor." He had no desire to be the first to die down in a firefight.

"I am an old man within the clans," Renthos laughed. "Your tenacity is what will continue the success of the clans." He smiled gripping Barca even more fiercely. "Now, battle awaits!"

Fourteen minutes passed and the crew was armed and armored by the docking collar.

The bridge crew sat at their stations, their motions awkward as their bulky suits hindered the easiest of tasks.

"Helmsman," Renthos ordered. "Parallel ourselves to the Aurora's midsection. Gunmen, target their communications tower." Ayes bellowed out as the Blight feathered it's thrusters to match the Aurora's course and speed.

"I have a solution," Matos, the Blight's chief gunner, reported.

"Barca, drop cloak," Renthos yelled. "Open fire!"

The Blight materialized out of nothingness aside the Aurora, her smooth lines a complete opposite to the Blight's dented and battered hull. The Blight's turrets aligned and belched fire sending several rounds of energy into the tower burning it clean off.

The Blight's thrusters glowed as the ship slinked forward; its squat nose gently nudging into the stricken side of the Aurora. The ship shuddered and vibrated as it made contact.

"The crew is already cutting into the hull," Barca reported.

Renthos smiled. "Excellent, let us join our friends."

In the short jog to the docking collar the crew was almost done cutting through. Barca took a place behind one of the mechanics drawing his pistol.

"Nonsense Barca," Renthos boomed. "To the front!"

All around him his shipmates cheered him on. I'm going to die for these fools. Panic filled inside him. He would either be dead or disgraced in mere seconds. Not much of a choice. The cutting torch completed its arc and the hull dropped inward, crushing a sofa and landing at an awkward angle.

Barca dropped to wide legged squat scanning the entry. No one was around. He slid through the opening the sides still white hot from the torch and scanned the area. The ship was quiet. Too quiet. Usually people would be panicked and corralled to the opposite side of the room. A smarter captain usually had an officer of the crew by the door to try and negotiate and stall for time.

Of course usually that officer was expendable since pirates usually shot first and asked questions second.

It wasn't just that no one was here, nothing that would go on in a luxury liner was happening. There was no music and none of the attractions looked like they had been used. There wasn't even evidence of abandoned drinks or food lying around.

"Something's wrong," Barca said, turning to the others. "This doesn't feel right."

More pirates poured through the opening to confirm Barca's report. They began fanning out checking nooks and crannies and opening doors.

Renthos stood in middle of the large deck staring up at the chandelier that hung above a starry canopy higher still.

"It feels like this ship has been abandoned," Renthos said eerily. "It feels dead."

Wren came forward. "Something is moving it along, whether autopilot or a terran. It's made too many microburst course changes over the last several hours."

"Should we retreat to the Blight," Barca asked. "If the ship is dead, we can wait to do a full scan and know what we are facing."

"What happened to your wish for the spoils to the victor Barca," Renthos paused. "Wren, guard the door. The rest of you split into teams and search the passenger's quarters. Bridge crew with me."

The men split up into groups and lumbered off into different parts of the Aurora. Barca again was on point as he led his small band a grand stair case and into the first class section. They passed compartment after competent until Barca stopped at a door labeled Observatory.

"What's wrong," Renthos asked.

Barca pointed at one door in particular. "This door is locked."

"What is so special about that?"

"There is a piece of pipe wrapped around the door mechanism."

Renthos paused studying the door. "Open it."

Barca holstered his gun and tried to bend the pipe off, but he wasn't strong enough.

"Step aside," Renthos said grabbing each side of the pipe with his large hands. He pulled and grunted with all his might until the pipe finally straightened out unlocking the latch.

Renthos retreated to the back, his frame heaving from exhaustion as Barca drew his pistol once more. He hit the open button and the tracks grinded against their counterweights, opening the door. A body tumbled out. No one moved until the door tried to close back shut, hitting the body and then retracting.

Barca looked down. It was a steward, his white jacket coat soaked in red. A single shot had burned his smart jacket high in the chest. Blood had covered the rest. The man had been wounded and left to die. He peered deeper into the room. Bodies littered the floor everywhere. Some lay strewn across the floor, their faces frozen in panic. The last sensation they would ever experience. Others died sitting in their chairs, a sense of dread and acceptance awash over their peaceful postures.

"Did another part of the clans already hit this ship," Rigo, the Blight's chief engineer asked.

"No," Barca stated. "No other clan claimed siege of a ship named Aurora in the last three weeks. Besides look at these people. They still wear all their valuables."

Renthos finally reached his second wind. "Dead men do us nothing, we will get to the bridge and figure this out."

The men piled back out into the corridor and crept forward to the bridge. Barca couldn't help but notice three gnarly slashes across the corner to the bridge.

They reached the bridge door before halting.

"Guns at the ready men," Renthos warned.

Rigo opened the door first and rolled into the room. The entire bridge was dark, awash only by active consoles lighting selected areas in dull green and amber light.

"This feels wrong," Barca whispered.

"And it should," a voice echoed in the darkness. "But it doesn't have to be."

"Who is that," Barca shouted. "Show yourself!"

Intense lights switched on, flooding the bridge with blinding sterile light. The pirates covered their eyes, after images burned into their retinas.

"As you wish," came the same deep voice.

The stars in Barca's eyes cleared and images began to reshape in his mind. The first thing he could notice was the polished steel of a mechanical humanoid figure.

"E-Frame," he screamed. "It's the Exo-Fleet!"

All hell would have broken loose if it hadn't been for the laugh that immediately followed Barca's cry.

"I assure you," the voice said. The sound of actuators and hydraulics coming to life as the E-frame stepped forward eclipsing the lights behind it. "I have no love for the Exo-Fleet." The frames canopy finally polarized revealing a large smiling Neosapien behind its controls. "In fact I'd like to ask for your help in destroying it."

Minutes later, the Blight's remaining crew save, Wren had been corralled onto the bridge. Heavily armed and uniformed Neosapien soldiers trained their guns, but remained still.

"Do you plan on killing us like you did this ship's crew," Renthos asked.

"I have no such desire," the E-Frame pilot said. "I'm here to discuss our mutual interests."

"People don't talk well with guns aimed at them," Renthos said defiantly.

"And people should never underestimate a Pirate," the E-Frame pilot said with the same intensity.

For a moment, nothing happened. Finally Renthos laughed which prompted the crew to do the same, uneasily.

"What do you want, Neo?"

"First of all my name is Phaeton, and I am the Planetary Governor of Mars. Your name is?"

Renthos spit on the ground attracting new interest from the soldiers thanks to his unexpected actions. "My name is Renthos."

"Ahh," Phaeton explained. "Now that we have dispensed with the pleasantries, I have a proposal."

"I'm listening."

"We both share no love for the terrans who inhabit the homeworlds. They enslaved us both. I intend to finish what we tried 50 years ago."

"You want to reignite a civil war."

"No my friend," Phaeton said his lips pursing. "I intend to eliminate any threat to our legitimacy to exist." He flexed the E-frames arm as if to show its power. "And this time we are much bettered prepared."

"If you're that prepared, then why do you need us," Renthos asked warily.

"While we have the resources to fight the Exo-Fleet. We can't take the homeworlds and the Exo-Fleet at the same time. I want you," he paused choosing his words. "I would ask of you to draw the Exo-Fleet out giving us a chance to attack in one crippling, decisive blow."

"And how would you have us do that?"

"When you poke the bear hard enough, eventually he will come out of hibernating to attack."

"You want us to attack the Exo-Fleet," Renthos asked shocked. "You're mad."

"I've heard that a lot lately." Phaeton smiled. "I just want you to get their attention. Let them chase you all over the outer planets."

"No," Renthos said flatly.

"After our successful invasion, you would be well compensated. We could give you Venus."

"I said no."

Phaeton's smile eroded quickly. "Would that not be a decision for your clan's leaders to make?"

"I can tell you no, because no pirate would ever be used as a puppet for someone else. Especially to die for your own goals." He spit on Phaeton's E-Frame.

The E-Frame's hand extended lightning fast, its three pronged claw digging through Renthos' abdomen. Phaeton smiled as he raised the skewered pirate up to his faceplate. "It seems that you are of no use to me then." He examined the pirate's vain effort to break free. "Humans are so frail."

Renthos coughed blood smiling. "Like you said," Renthos wheezed. It was a miracle he was still alive. "You should never underestimate a pirate." A pop-out blaster extended from his wrist and he fired multiple times into the faceplate causing Phaeton to panic, throwing Renthos across the room. His body slid to a stop under the communications console, a long trail of blood left in his wake.

The remaining pirates were sent into a crazed blood lust at the sight of their captain's demise. Pop-blasters rang out dropping Neosapien troops as the pirates dove for cover. Some, too far to be helped charged madly at the squad of troops, blasting and screaming until both actions were silenced, their bodies riddled with holes from concentrated blaster fire.

Finally the E-frame joined the fray delivering overwhelming firepower down onto the pirates. Entire makeshift barricades of crates or consoles were obliterated, along with any pirate taking refuge.

The E-frame finished its deadly swath of destruction, Phaeton recomposed himself keeping both arms both arms raised at the remaining pirates, but closing his clawed hands back over the exposed blaster barrels in each hand. "Does anyone else have anything else to say?"

Silence filled the room.

"Very well then," Phaeton said. "Kill them all." Neosapien rifles returned to the ready.

"Wait," Barca cried.

The E-Frame turned to him.

Think fast Barca. "I can start your war for you," he proclaimed.

"Then you will talk with your leaders?"

Barca hesitated. Renthos died an idiot, but he was no fool.

"No I cannot."

The E-Frames pincer claws collapsed around Barca's head threatening to crush him like one popped a balloon.

"But I can still start your war," he choked.

Phaeton's armored claw loosened releasing Barca to ground. "Go on."

He rubbed his throat. "Renthos was right in saying that a pirate has too much pride to be used for someone else. That's why you have to use the same trick on the Exo-Fleet that you use on the pirates. If you want to make a target to draw out the Exo-Fleet, you must also make a target to draw out the clans."

Phaeton paused rubbing his own chin. "Yes, I see. Killing two birds with one stone." He paused and smiled. "A metaphor I assure you." His advanced genetic brain was already working in overdrive. Finally, a revelation washed over his face. "You will inform your leaders of a ship, a large ship laden with raw ore and resources, will be in-system in one month's time. I will work things out on my end and you shall do the same on yours. What is your name pirate?"

"My name is Barca."

"Well Barca, I promise you this, you will be handsomely rewarded for your part in protecting Neosapien interests."

"How rich?"

"As rich as you'd like to be, maybe Governor of Venus? Does that sound good?"

Barca's eyes lit up.

"What are you doing Barca," Matos yelled. "You are betraying Simbacca and the clans."

"I am protecting myself; it's what any pirate always does."

"We won't let you get away with this treachery."

Phaeton again moved his E-Frame the sounds interrupting the conversation. "The other pirate is right; they will try to stop you, Barca. Guards."

And with a casual whim, the remaining pirates fell.

"What have you done," Barca yelled.

"They would have had to die," Phaeton said. Hatches on his suit opened as he stepped down. Even out of his E-Frame he still towered over the pirate. "You will return to wherever it is you hide saying you were the sole survivor of a harrowing raid. You can tell them you escaped with information about a large freighter," he paused looking through a ship's registry off a console in his four fingered hand. "I have the information here. I'm sure you will be praised enough to raise your station in whatever warrior-caste you have fashioned for yourselves."

Barca hated to admit it, but Phaeton was right.

"Here," he said handing Barca the small device. "This is a long-range communication device. It has far greater range and you can use it to keep me updated with your progress or anything else you should report."

Barca scooped the advice into his arms. He hadn't realized up until this point that his whole body was trembling.

"Now go."

The pirate had so many more questions, but the Neosapien looked to be short of patience.

Barca turned concentrating with every fiber of his being to put one foot in front of the other the weight of several blaster rifles still trained on his back. He stopped at Renthos' body. He would always be a reminder of what Barca didn't want from life. He crouched over the body of his fallen commander removing the wrist gauntlet and its pop-out blaster.

Just in case someone tries to underestimate me.

He walked out of the room and when he turned the corner, he ran.

As soon as the pirate was out of sight, orders rang out.

"Set the ship on a collision course with the asteroid belt," Phaeton said. "Make sure to send the trumped up distress call. To your E-Frames."

"Can you trust the pirate," a Neosapien soldier asked.

"No, but every king needs his fool," Phaeton smiled. "He will do nicely as that. He will give me what I want now, and after the homeworlds settle from the dust he will hand me the pirates."

Barca ran all the way back to the Blight. Wren was there standing guard.

"We have to go," he said shoving Wren through the door and sealing the collar shut.

"What about the others?"

"They're all dead," Barca hissed. "And so will we if we don't get out of here."

They ran to the bridge and Wren was a flurry over the controls as he nudged life into the Blight pulling her into a safe distance. It wasn't until Barca had activated the cloak that Wren again turned in his chair.

"What happened?"

"It was the Exo-Fleet, they set a trap," Barca lied carefully twisting his words with real staples of emotional truth. "They ambushed Renthos and others as we split up."

"How'd you get away?"

"I was in a different room checking communication logs. I had to get away with important information I had pulled off about plans the Exo-Fleet has to wipe out the pirates."

"You got that off a luxury liner?"

"It was a military operation." Barca said, angry at Wren's investigating. He felt exhausted. Almost dying twice in one day takes a lot out you. "It's nine hours back to the Ravenous. I'll be in my quarters."

Wren didn't say anything and Barca dismissed himself. He went to his quarters and fiddled with the new device and the information stored on it. He poured over the target's manifest and found himself shocked. Phaeton knew exactly how to entice the pirates. Listed, were four training E-Frames and simulators.

The pirates had always had the advantage of surprise with the invention of their cloaking fields, but they never had the muscle that the Exo-Fleet could wield. In Simbacca's eyes he can't afford not to take this ship.

When Barca woke up, he returned to the bridge to find Wren looking strangely satisfied, a smug look upon his face.

"I watched the Aurora as we sailed off. She crashed herself across the asteroid belt. No one left the ship."

"What is your point?"

"I haven't monitored any Exo-Fleet ships or transmissions. All I've heard is a distress signal from the Aurora that says they were having engine troubles, no pirate raids no firefights." He swiveled in his chair a laser pistol pointed at Barca's chest. "What really happened?"

"I'd have to show you, it's in my quarters."

"You murderer," Wren said standing and turning Barca around, removing his laser pistol and throwing it to the ground.

"I murdered nobody, it was the Neosapiens. They're planning a war with the terrans."

Wren looked surprised, but still didn't trust Barca. "Neo's? Show me."

He buried the muzzle deep into Barca's back and ordered him to march. Barca only smiled. It was while they rounded the corner that Barca attacked. With a quick downward thrust of his wrist, he had slapped the laser pistol away punching Wren square in the jaw. Wren was tough though, staying on his feet to push off the bulkhead and deliver a wide hook. He was all power and no technique. Barca blocked high and raised his foot to crush down on Wren's calf. The larger pirate dropped instantly and Barca's newly acquired pop-out blaster was staring directly down Wren's face.

"You should never leave a gun within reaching distance of your enemy," Barca said smiling. Wren spat on him.

"Not that this information will help you now," Barca said a crazed look in his eyes. "But I was telling the truth for once about the Neo's and I intend to be on the winning side." He fired.

It was hours before the Blight returned to the Ravenous. It was plenty of time to dump the body of a dead pirate.

"Barca," Simbacca said sitting from his large chair. "Tales of your deeds have reached as far as Chaos. My men tell me you have something for me."

"Yes," Barca said dropping to one knee. "I have information which will elevate the pirate clans to untold wealth." He reached up offering a computer device.

A pirate ran forward fetching the data and handing it to the pirate leader. Simbacca's eyes widened as he read off the list, pregnant with riches.

"If this is accurate, you stand to receive great riches and status from such a raid."

Barca ducked his head further faking humility. "I offer it to you and the pirate clans."

Simbacca laughed, standing as he did. "Jubail ready the taskforce," he paused still smiling. "And take your new first officer, Commander Barca with you."

Barca looked up smiling. "Thank you Simbacca, it is an honor."

Simbacca grabbed Barca's shoulder lifting him up with his tremendous strength.

"An honor we will share my friend. The OPS Danube will be ours."