David Carter studied the young pirate huddled against the bulkhead of Damage Control Central. Seventeen at most, with a skinny frame trembling beneath his spacesuit and shoulders hunched inward like a cornered animal. His bound hands twitched against the restraints. Without his helmet, his gaunt face revealed more than fear; those bloodshot eyes were cataloging every face, every weapon, every exit with the practiced vigilance of someone accustomed to looking for escape routes. His attention darted around the room like a malfunctioning sensor drone, constantly recalibrating threat assessments. Not a hardened killer, David thought, but dangerous in his own way.
A bullet had creased the prisoner's left arm and showed a little blood staining his spacesuit, evidence of the recent fighting. Med Tech Vale took a look and slapped an adhesive bandage on the flesh wound. "It is not serious; he'll not bleed out."
David nodded, his jaw tight. Part of him was angry, thinking Chief Voss should have been handling this interrogation. The hollow space her absence left tightened his focus, sharpened his voice. "What's your name?"
"W-Wei Lin." The boy's voice cracked. "They call me Sparrow."
"Sparrow," David repeated flatly. "Let me guess, because you're so intimidating in a fight."
The boy's eyes widened slightly, unsure if this was a trap. "B-because I'm small. And talk too much."
"Alright, Sparrow," David kept his voice neutral. "I need some more information about the Hai Feng. You give it to me, you live. You lie, you get spaced. Simple."
Sparrow's eyes widened. "I don't know much. I'm just a tech."
"No problem." David leaned closer. "How many crew are there on the Hai Feng?"
Sparrow swallowed hard. "Thirty, maybe? The captain only keeps essential crew. Says extra mouths eat profit. Most came on the boarding shuttles."
"Most?" David pressed.
"There were twelve on my shuttle. And a bunch with the Ripper on the other." Sparrow's words tumbled out, desperate to please.
David exchanged glances with Security Specialist Winkle and Ensign Ortiz. With only about 30 total, he had seen almost that many on board the Cutlass, divided between two shuttles. They'd accounted for all 12 in the aft shuttle, and he thought there were at least 12-15 with the Ripper, counting those that he and Winkle took out. That left a skeleton crew on the pirate vessel. Basic math had that between three and six.
He leaned closer, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over the prisoner. "How many of the crew remain aboard right now? We know how many were on your shuttle, and we have a count on those in the Ripper's shuttle."
Sparrow hesitated, calculating. David didn't wait for the lie. He grabbed the pirate's injured arm and squeezed. Not hard enough to reopen the wound, but enough to promise pain.
"Scrap," Sparrow gasped. "Five, maybe six. I think."
"See? Honesty feels better already," David said, releasing his grip. "Let's keep that trend going. Who's left on the Hai Feng and where will they be?"
"The captain is on the bridge. He never leaves during operations." Sparrow's words came faster now. "Two bridge crew with him. Maybe two in engineering, working on the damage your missiles caused."
David released his grip. "The captain controls everything from the bridge? Including the shuttle docking?"
"Yes. There was no one inside the docking rings when we left."
"What's their plan for this ship?" David asked.
"Strip it. Take weapons, nav systems, anything valuable." Sparrow's eyes flicked nervously around the compartment. "The Ripper gets first pick of prisoners. Rest go to the markets or..."
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
"And the ship itself?"
"Scuttle it once it's stripped. Can't leave evidence." Sparrow leaned forward, eager to prove his value. "But The Red Talon's real prize is the data cores. Solano Navy deployments and patrol schedules."
David felt the weight of this information settle in his gut. The boy knew more than a junior boarding crew member should, which meant either he was lying or he'd been positioned to observe and learn. Regardless, a dangerous idea began forming in David's mind. He ran the numbers in his head. With most of the pirates committed to boarding, the Hai Feng sat vulnerable. Five remained on board, leaving a warship ripe for capture, possibly the Cutlass's only chance at survival. The plan crystallized, brutal and clear. Not a desperate gamble but a tactical necessity. He kept his face neutral, not wanting to telegraph his thoughts until he could secure the right allies.
His comm interrupted his thoughts. "Carter, Winkle."
"Go ahead."
"These burn-tards are still trying to break through to the bridge. Armor's holding for now, and I have not been able to take any down." Winkle's voice sounded strained. "Bad news is I'm out of ammo and took a round in the side. Not critical, but I'm bleeding."
"Seal that hatch so they cannot get through and fall back," David ordered. "See Vale here in DC Central."
"Trying to get me patched up so you can use me as bait again?" Winkle asked, his labored breathing audible over the comm.
"No point wasting perfectly good bait," David replied. "Besides, I need someone with terrible aim to make me look good."
"Funny. I'll remember that when I'm covering your retreat. I'm already on my way. Locked down and disabled each of the hatches on Deck Four and Five. Should slow them down if they get impatient."
David turned his attention back to the DC Central. Medical Technician Vale moved efficiently between the wounded, applying sealant to burns and synth-clot to injuries. Her supplies were nearly depleted, but she worked with calm precision, prioritizing those who could still fight. With their losses, his fighting force was too outnumbered to eliminate the Ripper's group up forward. Besides, the damage control technicians had to resume working on the critical repairs, or they'd lose the Cutlass anyway.
Ops Technician Rickerson sat at a systems console, right arm bandaged where a laser had scored his bodysuit. Despite the injury, his fingers moved rapidly across the interface, checking the ship's systems status deck by deck, where Winkle was coming down to DC Central.
Ensign Ortiz, the junior pilot who'd been assigned to damage control when the attack began, nursed a minor wound to his left shoulder. His expression was grim but determined as he looked over the progress of the damage control operations being run by the senior engineering technician.
David contacted the bridge. "Captain, we've secured the aft section."
"And accomplished what exactly?" Commander Morris fired back, voice tight with strain. "The Hai Feng will vaporize us the moment they realize their boarding party is dead. You've trapped us in a no-win scenario, Specialist."
The captain's voice carried the hollow certainty of a man who would not waiver from an assessment that formed a completely different outcome, in another ship, another disaster. David recognized the paralysis of past trauma. Morris wasn't seeing pirates anymore, but ghosts from Vandis. His mind was locked in a recursive loop like a nav computer trying to plot a course through a black hole, constantly circling the same impossible solution.
"Sir, we captured one of their shuttles intact."
Morris's voice came back immediately. "And what exactly do you plan to do with it, Specialist?"
"We could use it to take out the other one."
"Negative. The Hai Feng will blow any shuttle to pieces the moment it launches. They're monitoring our every move." Morris's tone hardened. "If they learn you've killed their boarding team, they'll destroy us without hesitation. Even if you win this fight, we lose."
"Sir, with respect, they're going to kill us anyway. Except for those they capture and want to sell into slavery."
"You don't know that, Carter. This is exactly the kind of escalation that got Chief Voss killed." Morris paused. "Put XO Vaughn on."
"Vaughn here," the XO responded weakly from his makeshift medical station.
"Lieutenant Commander, I'm ordering you to relieve Specialist Carter of duty. His actions have endangered this ship and its crew."
Vaughn's face was pale from blood loss, his normally observant eyes unfocused and distant as the XO stared at the comm panel. The temporary pressure bandage on his torso was already showing signs of seepage.
The silence stretched uncomfortably long.
His eyes closed.
The CO asked again, "XO Vaughn, do you copy? I gave you a direct order."
No response came.
Med Tech Vale moved to Vaughn's side, checking his vitals.
"He's lost consciousness, Captain," she reported. "Blood pressure dropping."
Commander Morris cursed. "Carter, stand down. That's a direct order."
David disconnected the comm without responding. "Burn it," he muttered under his breath. The situation was deteriorating rapidly. The forward section remained under pirate control. The bridge was isolated but holding. And now the XO was unconscious, leaving command fractured.
Specialist Winkle arrived a minute later, clutching his side where a makeshift bandage was already soaked through. His normally animated face was drawn tight with pain, sweat beading on his forehead despite the ship's cool ambient temperature.
"You look terrible," David said, eyeing the blood-soaked bandage.
"Scrap, you should see the other guys," Winkle replied with a pained grin. "Actually, you can't. Left a couple of them decorating the corridor walls. Sucks for those poor scraps assigned the cleanup job."
"Sit," Vale ordered, cutting through their exchange and guiding Winkle to sit at a workstation. She cut away the fabric of his suit and examined the wound. "Clean through. Just a flesh wound."
"Lucky me," Winkle grimaced as she applied synth-clot. "Do I get a lollipop when we're done?"
"Sure," Vale replied without looking up. "Right after I finish patching the hole someone put in my favorite patient."
Winkle asked, "So, what's the plan, boss? Please tell me it involves shooting something. I came all this way for the reunion tour."
"Don't worry," David said, checking his weapon. "There are still plenty of targets. Wouldn't want you feeling left out."
He surveyed the room. Only a few crew members were still capable of fighting; all were wounded to varying degrees. The damage control teams had performed admirably, but they weren't trained for extended combat operations and were hard at work keeping the Cutlass alive.
"We have two options," David said. "Reinforce forward, try to retake the decks between us and the bridge, even though we are outnumbered and will not have surprise. Or..."
He glanced down the corridor towards the captured shuttle, then at Ensign Ortiz.
"You're a pilot, right?"
Ortiz nodded. "I might be junior, but yes. Not as good as Lieutenant Hale, but I fly a number of craft."
"We can't just hold them off," David continued, keeping his voice low. "As long as the Hai Feng exists, killing these boarders means burning nothing. They'll just blow us apart if they realize we've taken out their teams and cannot capture us."
Ensign Ortiz nodded slowly. "You want to counter-board."
"It's our only play. Take out their command capability and the weapons pointed at the Cutlass, and we might survive this. And you are the pilot, sir."
Specialist Winkle, still having his wound treated by Med Tech Vale, let out a soft whistle. "That's either brilliant or suicidal. I'm in."
"You're staying here on the Cutlass," David corrected. "We need an experienced security specialist here to continue keeping the pirates occupied. With a volunteer or two, you can head up forward again to harass their sentries. Don't engage directly. I have a few grenades to help slow them down and harry their flank. If they breach the hatches coming aft and start pushing downward, you will have to keep them from taking DC Central. The primary goal is to delay and keep them from taking either the bridge or the main reactor core to force a surrender of the Cutlass until after we have secured the Hai Feng."
Ensign Ortiz straightened, his posture shifting subtly. With the XO unconscious, the ensign was technically the ranking officer present in Damage Control Central. David watched the realization settle across his face.
"Under the emergency and as the senior officer present," the Ensign said formally, "I concur with Specialist Carter's tactical assessment and plans. The preservation of this vessel requires immediate offensive action against the hostile ship." He paused. "For the record."
David nodded, grateful for the cover of legitimacy. Commander Morris would never approve, but with Ensign Ortiz's authorization, this wasn't mutiny. It was continuity of command.
The remaining few members of the damage control team volunteered to continue fighting despite their wounds. "We can hold this position," one of the engineers said. "Keep the pirates from getting to the reactor controls."
"And who is going with you and the Ensign?" Vale asked.
"I'll take Rickerson."
The operations tech looked up from one of the console displays, eyes wide but determined. "Aye, aye."
"Don't worry," David said, noting his expression. "The hard part's just getting through the hatch with an invitation. After that, it is a sneak up on them and neutralize them mission. They might not even be armed or armored."
"Oh, good," Rickerson replied, swallowing hard. "For a burning second, I thought it might be dangerous."
Specialist Winkle, still having his wound treated, looked up. "Quit your crying, Rickerson. I'd trade with you, but I take a bullet, and suddenly I'm benched. I'm hurt, Carter. Emotionally, I mean."
"Someone has to stay behind and miss all the fun," David said. "Consider it a promotion to 'guy who keeps everyone else alive.'"
"Right," Winkle snorted. "When this is over, you're buying the first round. Assuming we find a bar that serves the recently deceased."
David grunted ambiguously and then jerked a thumb at the young prisoner. "And I'll take him on the shuttle too."
Sparrow swallowed hard. "Look, I just signed on three months ago. I'm not like them."
"Congratulations," Winkle said with an evil grin. "You've just been promoted from 'pirate' to 'tour guide.' The benefits package isn't great, but it does include continued breathing."
David ignored his subordinate's interruption and continued, "You boarded a military vessel with them."
"What choice did I have?" Desperation edged into Sparrow's voice. "You don't say no to the Ripper."
David studied him. The pirate was young, barely even an adult. Terrified, but not broken. Not yet.
"Here is your choice," David said, leaning close to Sparrow. "Help us take the Hai Feng, or take a long walk through a short airlock."
The young pirate's face drained of color. "They will kill me if they see me helping you."
"Then make sure they don't see you. You wanted choices? This is the only one you've got."
Something flickered across the boy's face, not just fear but a flash of calculation. Not broken, David realized, just bending toward survival. The kid had been doing that long before today. David kept him alive not from mercy but necessity. Yet he found himself wondering what choices had led Sparrow to the Hai Feng in the first place.
He activated a private channel to Ensign Reyes on the bridge. "Ensign, if we don't stop the ship they came from, this never ends," he said simply.
She did not answer.
David continued with some trepidation, "I need something from you that crosses a line."
Her breath caught audibly. "Tell me."
"We're taking their shuttle back to the Hai Feng. I need you to keep it off Morris's displays."
Silence stretched between them. He could almost see her weighing duty against survival, career against conscience. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the weight of a choice that couldn't be unmade.
"Sending you everything I have on their configuration. Thermal readings show damage to their starboard section. Their point defense is still active." She paused. "David, if you don't come back, none of this matters anyway."
"Roger that. We'll have a prisoner to help talk our way on board. They won't fire on their own craft."
"Until they realize it's not their people aboard."
"Should keep our prisoner motivated to do a good job," David said. "We can use any tactical data you have that might help."
The silence that followed felt endless. Then, without a word, Reyes began transmitting data to the display in DC Central that Ops Tech Rickerson was using. It was optical feeds, thermal readings, and what little sensor data the damaged Cutlass could still gather on the Hai Feng.
David studied the information, memorizing what he could. The pirate vessel's configuration, its damaged sections, and the location of the shuttle docking stations.
Looking at the others, David outlined what he had in mind. Ensign Ortiz would pilot. They would launch manually, using the pirate shuttle's own systems, and Sparrow would let the Red Talon know they were returning to get some heavy-duty plasma cutters to break through the armored hatches. Then, when aboard the Hai Feng, Sparrow would guide them to take the bridge and the engineering spaces.
"Any questions?" David asked when he finished.
"Just one," Specialist Winkle said. "Is this the riskiest plan you've ever come up with, or just in the top three?"
"Not even close," David replied confidently. "At least this time we have a shuttle. You, just keep them focused on the bridge," he told Winkle, clasping the specialist's shoulder. "Hit and fade. Make them think we're everywhere. No one dies trying to be a hero."
"Copy that." Winkle nodded to the wounded volunteers gathering behind him. "We just need to buy you time. The real fight is out there now."
"Try not to get the ship blown up while I'm gone," David said, checking his weapon one last time.
"Try not to get yourself shot without me there to save you," Winkle countered. "My report is already complicated enough without adding 'lost Carter to his own scrapping stupid plan.'"
"Your concern is touching," David replied. "Just keep them busy. I'll handle the rest."
"Always do," Winkle said with a grim smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "See you on the other side, boss."
Looking around DC Central, where emergency lighting cast everything in amber and red shadows and the acrid smell of burned circuitry hung in the recycled air, he gestured for them to all move out. "Let's do this."
The war for the Cutlass was about to change direction.