"They could outrun the [i]Black Death[/i] itself and they just sit there," Jazz said in disbelief, staring open-mouthed at his monitor, where the little [i]Fortuna[/i] could be seen sitting motionless in the middle of the King's Freeway. Ilya was bent over the control panel, shaking in uncontrollable, silent laughter, tears running down her cheeks. This was too good, too sweet. She could hardly believe that their desperate plan had worked, but it had. "Unbelievable. Either their Captain is an idiot," Jazz continued, "or they're really carrying the good stuff. Maybe both." He looked over at Ilya, tall, black-haired, brown-skinned, and dressed like a complete nutjob in ancient Earthling costume. "You're a madman and a genius, Cap."

"My god. I can't... I haven't...." she struggled for breath as she lurched upright and met the eyes of her crew. The shock of unexpected victory, of [i]relief[/i] after so many months on edge, lit up their faces as they looked at each other in disbelief as they bent over the viewing screens. The final figure released from the hull of the armored escort. Jazz whooped and hit the button to retract the cable and pull the man in; ten seconds later, electricity flashed before being swallowed by the darkness of space, and the rest of the crew erupted in cheers and shout. Ilya, still laughing, turned to clasp arms with Jazz and watch the screen over his shoulder. In a minute, the escort ships were left floating uselessly in space, fried by the laser cannon, and all seven crew members were safely back aboard the [i]Queen's Glory[/i]. As soon as the last suit entered airlock with a whoosh of icy air, Ilya hopped up on a table, unsheathed her sword and brandished it in the air.

"Pirates! The hour has come! We board!" Ilya cried. The bridge filled with cheers and the interior lighting came on as the ship whirred to life. She continued to shout cries of encouragement as her crew gathered their weapons, and surged off the bridge, hopping from deck to table and raking blades along the aluminum walls and steel pipes until the whole ship reverberated with the ring of with battle.

"Thrusters engaged," Jazz called to Q over the din, who responded with mechanical precision:

"Gravity-lock released!"

"Landing gear retracted, and we are airborne!" Jazz turned to Ilya, grinning, "Captain? The honors?" Ilya returned the grin and leaned over from where she still stood on the table and pressed her open palm on the engine engage panel. It rippled, chimed happily, and the [i]Glory[/i] lifted off from the asteroid's surface and, guided by Jazz and Q's magic fingers, swooped in on top of the [i]Fortuna[/i], dropping a connecting passageway from their bottom airlock to the other ship's top. Ilya watched with glee as a dozen of her strongest fighters stampeded down the passageway to airlock, beam guns and swords at the ready, shields engaged. At Ilya's command, they would open the gate separating them from the other ship so they could drop down and force the doors. Jazz pushed back from his seat, grabbed his weapon, and turned to join the boarding crew, but paused.

"Captain, with all due respect--" he glanced at Ilya's left leg, but she scoffed. 

"Kiss my ass, more like. I can keep up just fine." She hadn't felt this alive in weeks, with the heat of the impending battle warming her cold blood and setting her skin aflame. Her hand still tightly wrapped around the hilt of her sword -- an upgraded replica of a 17th century human invention -- she hopped off the table. Her left leg twinged, and it took a second longer for her to get up than at full strength. Jazz nodded, and pretended not to notice as he turned to speak into his comm device.

"Open the doors at the Captain's command! Do not kill anyone important-looking! Otherwise, knock 'em dead!" Ilya straightened, caught his eye, and winked. 

"Right behind ya," she said, and Jazz hurried off. In a second, the Captain followed.

By the time she dropped through the airlock onto the [i]Fortuna[/i], the pathway was mostly clear, sounds of fighting far ahead of her. A half-dead man on the ground tried to pull his gun, but Ilya was faster, and his brains were left to decorate the walls. 

They'd done well, too well. Ilya met few enemies as she made her way to the bridge, tapping her comm device on as she went. The sound of fighting filled her ears, and she smiled.