[i]”Drop down, how do you ‘drop’ something in microgravity?”[/i] He thought as he tried to keep making unpredictable changes to direction and speed to avoid the pirate’s uncertain fire. Narix commanders would issue these orders by stating the desired speed, heading and inclination relative to the ship’s current attitude, but if this was the new commander’s way, he’d have to adapt. Was this standard for Humans? And if it was, how did the Human military survive for so long? He hoped his new captain did not think in two dimensions. Perhaps Human soldiers let artificial intelligence think for them? Carthus had to hope he understood what was asked of him. He’ll find out later. That, or they get killed if the maneuver fails or he does something the commander didn’t want. Barring the last five years, this seemed like business as usual.

Their assailants were careful, understandably, as they needed their ship intact by their own admission. The only destructively violent action would likely be taken against the crew itself. How he wished he had his rifle with him, but on the other hand it served as motivation to not let the space scum board at all.

At the captain’s word, events were set in motion. The Monroe’s weapons sprung to life, focusing mostly on the damaged vessel, designated ‘Alpha’ by the machine that has taken up residence in the cargo hold. A stream of tracers tore into the Alpha, sending a shower of equipment and hull fragments loose like a wide-spread buckshot. Better to avoid those. A few more bursts such as that one would no doubt seal the ship’s fate. In spite of the situation, an amused grin appeared on Carthus’ face.

Just as Raymond gave the word, Carthus turned the ship ninety degrees down and fired the main thrusters, slowly ‘pulling up’ again in a tightening arc that would land the Monroe on a path towards the Alpha. Then he would just have to make sure he didn’t accidentally send the Monroe on a collision course with the pirate vessel, make corrections in case some of the hostile ships tried to block them again like the last two times and evade incoming fire, if at all possible. Hopefully the gunners would have a good enough shot at their intended targets. The more damage they could inflict upon the pirates now, the less effort it would take for someone sent to finish the job, but getting away was a priority. Maybe after getting that distress call sorted, the Monroe would be sent to intercept this band, this time on their terms. A little payback, the crew would certainly be motivated. Every few seconds, his gaze wandered to a row of indicator lights running along the top edge of his instrument panel, especially those that would alert him to engine damage, fires in crew compartments or drops in air pressure. He dreaded the moment they would light up.