Snippet #1516678

Thaken awoke with an incredible headache, the likes of which you only get from a stunner-shot to the skull. His right shoulder was on fire, where the blaster had clipped him. He had been disrobed, and now only wore a ship-board jumpsuit. It appeared that his wounds had been tended, and there was a packet of broth and another of crackers lying next to the bed. He grabbed these and devoured them greedily.

As he ate, his senses began to return. He realized that he had been disarmed (no great surprise there), and he also felt the characteristic throbbing of a starship's engine under full drive.

Two things were possible.

The first possibility was that he had been captured by the Black Scars. They were taking him back to some base where they would interrogate him (not gently) and then dump him into deep space. So why feed him first and care for his wounds? Simple. Torture isn't effective on a dying man.

The second possibility was infinitely worse.

When he had eaten, and felt a little steadied, Thaken arose and went to the door of the tiny cabin. It was not locked. He looked out to see a mid-sized ship crowded with refugees, of which he was now one. Among them was the somewhat attractive doctor with the white hair he had seen earlier at the airlock. She was obviously weary, but still attempting to tend the wounded. He also saw the mad scientist (as he had come to think of him) lurking about. If anything, the man looked even stranger than the picture from O'Malley's dossier.

Hmm. O'Malley. He had been due for retirement in two weeks. Thaken guessed that Earth Government would save some money on his pension.

The second possibility, the infinitely worse one, now seemed very likely indeed. To confirm it, Thaken walked slowly towards the bridge.

Yes.

There, in the pilot's seat, all orange hair and smiling features -even when he wasn't smiling- was the pirate, Redd.

Redd looked back at Thaken, and grinned.

"Just shoot me now," groaned the Commissar.