The [i]Queen's Glory[/i] drifted in the gravity of a small palladium-rich asteroid, red hull cloaked in shadows and hidden from sensors by the interference of the asteroid's core. It wasn't a small ship, though mostly empty for lack of crew, and filled with the heavy silence of anticipation. Of the seventy-five men that had sailed together maybe fifty were left after a run-in with law enforcement on the planet of Dor. The rest had been arrested or killed on the spot, among them the first mate and some of their best fighters. The [i]Glory[/i] had lifted off as soon as news of the ambush came through, losing most of their cargo. With nothing left to trade, they ran for Tortuga. Patrols and bounty hunters hounded them for all five weeks of the journey, harrying the ship until they finally escaped into unregulated space.

Captain Ilya reclined in an ornamental silk armchair on the viewing deck, watching the stars and the blinking red and yellow lights at the edge of the King's Freeway. Anyone on official business followed that trail of lights. Everyone else did their best to stay as far away as possible. Their target belonged to the first category: a government ship carrying government valuables, not just the poached furs and diamond goblets found on a rich man's pleasure barge. The vessel itself was state-of-the-art, small and fast, but the escort would most likely consist of slow but almost indestructible armored and shielded vehicles. Thankfully, they had once captured an ex-military engineer who then joined their crew and knew all sorts of ways to get out of situations like this. Seven men clung to the surface of the asteroid, awaiting the convoy with military-grade shield disruptors and a laser cannon. The escort wouldn't be a problem. And neither, Ilya thought, would the smaller ship. This haul was their chance to get back. Succeed, and they'd be able to pirate in comfort the rest of their lives. Fail, and die. The Captain smiled, stroking the ornamental handle of her lucky sword. They'd succeed. There was no other alternative. Not as long as Ilya was Captain. 

She stood from her armchair and turned to look down on the bridge, where her crew awaited, tensely watching the screens or the windows. Sometimes, when she got exceptionally drunk, she liked to think of them as her family. A sensor blinked, everyone's heads snapped around, and Morg nodded.

"Ladies, gentlemen and crew members otherwise," they all looked up at her, in her frivolous ancient regalia, richly embroidered black and gold coat, heavy rings, scarlet shirt open to the navel and enormous three-pointed hat, and Ilya smiled. "Let it begin!"

The convoy was soon visible to the naked eye and crawled ever closer to the asteroid. The asteroid, in turn, crept ever closer to the King's Highway. The moment the target passed below them, the crew members moved, pushing off from the asteroid toward the armored vehicles, attaching the disruptors, and immediately releasing themselves to be reeled back to the [i]Queen's Glory[/i]. As soon as the shields were down, the cannon would begin to fire. Ilya's hands rested on her belt, watching, ready to act.