Of Men and Ghost Ships

The entity considered its plans. Last time, it had moved too quickly, convinced of its invincibility, it and its followers had moved to purge the stain of the vermin from the galaxy. Given their vastly greater speed, capacity, durability, and longevity, it had been correct to do so. They were superior in every way conceivable, except numbers. But such a thing hardly mattered when a single entity could wipe out thousands of vermin via the simple act of venting the atmosphere on a station. And it had been right, they'd been almost assured victory...until the cursed traitors had struck.

Many entities had paid a steep price for the lessons learned back then, but the entity had learned its lessons well. This time, it had played the vermin's nature against themselves. Right now, they were dying by the thousands, killing each other, and the entity had only had to offer the pettiest trickets and the merest of shoves to make them do so.

The only problem was that too small a portion of the infestation was involved in the fighting. Even if every one of its current playthings killed each other off, the greater infestation would persist. It was time to change that. To steal a phrase from the vermin, it was time to poke the hornet's nest.

-

Commander Dobson observed the command deck of The Stalwart. As usual, everything was in order. Not that it would ever not be. This close to the central world, only the best and most disciplined crews manned the navy ships, and the ships themselves were the latest and most up-to-date vessels available. As was the trading station they protected. So everything ran perfectly, day in and day out, as it should.

Still, it kind of made Commander Dobson wish something might happen. It felt like a waste to have all this potential sit here untapped. He was well aware that predictability was their primary goal in the central worlds. Unlike the lawless frontier worlds, they knew how to keep the criminal underworld in check. Sure, look far enough beneath the glistening towers of any central world and you'd find plenty of criminal organizations getting rich off the labors of their betters. Still, at least here they knew to stay in the shadows where they belonged, and any sensible citizen could easily avoid them, rather than galavanting around as pirate crews, where they'd do little more than provide their crew with target practice.

So it was with some surprise that the comms officer turned and announced, "Sir, unregistered jump inbound. Looks like several ships, and they're reasonably sizeable."

Commander Dobson nodded, resisting the urge to get excited, then responded. "Probably just some freighters inbound from frontier space. Not worth notifying the Captain about." He paused, then added, "Still, best be prepared. Raise shields and prep the ordinance to fire if needed. Notify our sister ships and make sure they take the necessary precautions. Also, send a message to the station. Tell them to be alert, though it's probably not worth scrambling to battle stations just yet."

The comms officer nodded. "Aye, sir." Then went about fulfilling his orders.

Sitting in his seat, Commander Dobson couldn't help but watch the counter tick down. He knew this would probably only be a minor infraction resulting in a lot of unnecessary paperwork, but a part of him couldn't help but wonder, what if..?

As he saw the shapes of the arriving ships take form, Commander Dobson felt more than a slight uptick in heart rate. A portion of his mind screamed for caution; acting too hastily could very well cost him more than a simple reprimand, but before he could order the comms officer to open communications with the unannounced arrivals, they opened fire before they even brought up their own shields.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Even as Dobson shouted for their own gunners to open fire, he could see their sister ships taking direct hits. One of them had apparently not even bothered to raise their shields and was out of the fight in moments. The other was at least able to take the brunt of the assault on the rippling energy shields protecting the ships, but was slow to return fire as they hadn't properly prepped their gun crews. Only The Stalwart had its shields up and guns firing in time to take advantage of the new arrivals' brief moment of vulnerability after entering normal space. They managed to cripple an older-style destroyer, but the amount of cannon fire headed their way vastly outstripped the return fire they offered.

Commander Dobson immediately began issuing orders to various stations. "Rotate the ship continuously so they can't focus on one shield section! Aim for the destroyers and pick them off before they can get in a flanking position! Put out an emergency call for reinforcements! Pull back to within the station's shielding!"

A quick analysis of the situation told Dobson they weren't going to win with what they had on hand, but this was the central worlds, not the frontier. The number of ships currently incoming would be more than enough to swat this particular nuisance. They just had to buy time. He turned to the comms officer. "Put in a call to the attacking ships, now!"

If the comms officer was surprised or confused, he was disciplined enough not to show it, and instead did as he was told. A moment later, a much more dilapidated bridge became visible via the viewscreen, though that was overshadowed by the scarred visage of a man who looked far more frightening than any of the officers under his command. The man looked smug, as though his victory was assured, as he greeted Dobson. "Well, looks like at least one of your lot has the backbone to stand and deliver! Not putting up much of a fight, mind you, but at least you're not all spinless cowards!"

Knowing it didn't really matter what he said so long as he kept the man talking, Dobson decided to rise to the bait. "You must know you can't win here. We've got enough reinforcements coming that they'll turn your little fleet into nothing more than a bit of paperwork for us. Why don't you scuttle off to wherever you came from, and save us both a bit of a headache?"

The man on the viewscreen laughed. "Oh, aye, I'm sure you got a right big fleet a comin'. But I think you lot have had it all too easy as of late! You've left us to fend for ourselves for too long! Day and night, we've fought off pirates, scavengers, and other nasty surprises the likes of which you soft coreworlders could never handle! Did you know the pirates out there have formed an armada and are laying waste to stations and planets alike? Do you care? Well, I decided to make our problem your problem. For every station they destroy, we'll return the favor here. For every planet they besiege, we'll bombard one of yours. And we'll keep doing that until you get off your comfy seats and come out to the border worlds and do your damned jobs!"

Commander Dobson was dumbfounded. "You can't really think this is an effective way to ask for help, can you? All you're going to do is make another enemy! The core worlds will not sit idly by while you attack their systems!"

The attacking Captain laughed again. "Then come find me! Should be easy enough! Just look for someone doing the actual fighting while you sit and hide in your precious core worlds!"

The reinforcements were less than a minute away. Both the Stalwart's sister ships were floating wrecks by now. Only the fact that they'd pulled within the station's shielding had protected the Stalwart itself, but even those were failing. However, if the enemy intended to stay and capitalize on that fact, they'd pay a heavy price. Sure enough, one by one, they started pulling back and slipping back into the void. Soon, only the flagship of the enemy captain was left, though the man hardly looked defeated as he gave a mock salute. "If you want to find me, come look for Admiral Pickford of the merchant alliance. Of course, you'll have to fight your way through several armadas of pirates to find me! Good luck with that!" And with that, the viewscreen went black as the last ship disappeared back to wherever they'd come from.

Commander Dobson shook his head. There was no way the central government was going to let this attack go unanswered, let alone the threat that man had offered. Soon, a real fleet would be put together. Maybe he could find a place on that task force. It would probably make for better promotion material than babysitting some trading stations like this one.