After a refueling stop on Beeblebrox, the fleet made its way back to Palshife, slowly but surely. Upon landing, the Commander told us to report to the debriefing hall.

"Good work, soldiers. I am proud to say that we didn't take a single loss on that trip. Every single one of us made it out alive, though some were injured in battle. Here are the statistics in from our tactical operations units." He punched a series of buttons on the control panel and stepped back to look at the large screen. "As you can clearly see, this was an obvious victory for the Rebellion. Do not get too overconfident about this, however. You must be warned that you might not be so lucky in our next encounter with the Confederation."

He was right and I knew it, but it still felt good to have such a decisively well-fought battle behind me. I should have learned my lesson from my earlier battle, but if there is one thing I was bad at doing, it was learning from my mistakes. After all, that was not the first, or possibly not even the last, time I had lost one. People may say that it is hard for one to go into battle, but they are wrong. It is actually very easy. Going into battle and winning is another matter entirely.

I was interrupted in mid-thought as I heard the words "pay check" escape the Commander's mouth. I looked up to see him transferring the information to each of our individual panels. It was less than I had hoped for, but much more than I had actually expected. Thirty-five thousand credits can't get you far, but it is certainly enough for food and decent board. The idea of using military quarters repulsed me, even more so that of the Rebellion. Sure, I agreed with their cause, but the money was just too tight for good living conditions. There was sure to be a nice hotel around somewhere.

I ended up spending the night in a cheap hotel somewhere in downtown Boacksburg, a large city thirty or forty kilometers from the base. It wasn't perfect, but it beat Rebellion quarters. The next morning I woke up and returned for the next mission. You may get good pay, but you have to work your ass off for every credit. They say nonstop mission after mission will finally get to a pilot, and he'll become so fixed on fighting and flying that he'll forget about everything else. I don't know if it's true, but I can certainly believe it. Interstellar travel can be the most monotonous thing in the galaxy when you are stuck in a one-man fighter.

The only thing to do is to stare out into the infinite emptiness of space and think about what will happen next.

I took the Mag-Way back to the Rebellion base, since it was faster than a cab and less annoying. They are faster than travel by hover-car, but they are only available in the largest of cities. I looked down at my watch again. 14:20 in the morning, and not a minute later, the Commander had said the day before. We had to be up and ready in time for the briefing. The train suddenly skid to a halt, dropping from over five hundred kilometers per hour to a complete stop, though only jolting the passengers slightly.

"Palshife Naval Base: exit from the doors on either side of you. Move away from the doors when leaving, I repeat, stand clear of the doors. " The calm, smooth computer's voice repeated this message again and again, only to be interrupted by the occasional announcement of a sale in the lobby's gift shop. I did as the computer said and walked through the black-and-yellow striped automatic doors. I stepped out onto the platform and made my way from the small station, which was really more of a small room with a camouflage tarpaulin over it, than it was a station.

I made my way up to the briefing building, which was only one of the myriad ones in the area. As I entered, I found that the majority of the other pilots were already there.

"Glad you could make it, Riprock," announced the Commander, already at his podium. "Now that everyone is here, I can get down to business. Our next mission will be to gather information on a group of Rebel ships grouping in the Martar system. They seem to be planning a retaliation because of our previous interception of the Confederate convoy. We only need to observe the convoy, but not necessarily to engage. Three Mantas light fighters will be sent in to assess the fleet's strength, and then leave immediately. We will have two Destroyers accompanied by the rest of the fighters on the outskirts of the system waiting just out of sensor range, just in case you are attacked." He looked down at his panel. "Emerick, Riprock, Rochester. You will be in the away group. The rest of us will be on red alert until you are back, ready to jump in and provide cover. It is imperative that at least one of you make it out, as you will be the ones with the scanner records. Any questions?"

The room was silent. "Good. You will proceed to the takeoff pads until the order is given to ascend. Dismissed."

I exited the building with the others and walked down to my numbered pad. I entered my fighter and waited for the command to takeoff. When my time came, I flipped on the atmospheric engines and engaged the auto-pilot. I was greeted by the familiar sight of the Destroyers when I arrived in orbit, and as soon as the remainder of the fighters came in, we were given the order to start the jump.

"The fighters may now engage the hyperspace auto-pilot, and make use of the rejuvenation chamber," the commander said over the radio. "There will be a long ride ahead of us. Over and out."

Though it was still quite early, I decided that I should heed his advice and enter the chamber. I would need it in the days to come, and it was incredibly boring to be in such a small vessel for so many days. I crawled into the small chamber behind the pilot's chair and commanded it to start the sleep cycle. I blacked out almost instantly.

The high-pitched whine of alarms sounded around me as I was startled awake. We must be under fire. I ran to the pilot's chair and looked down at the radar screen. There appeared to be a small fleet of pirate Argosies entering the system accompanied by three, no four clippers. There was no problem in taking them as long as the Destroyers hit their target. A gasp of terror escaped my lips as I realized that the destroyers were no longer on the radar screen! Could they have been destroyed by the pirate fleet? I suppose that would be quite unlikely. Perhaps the fleet had been separated in flight. That theory made much more sense, but that was of no consequence right now. For now I need to worry about the pirate fleet. I received a hail from the Argosy in the foremost position in the fleet.

"Greetings, Captain Riprock. You will surrender your vessel and your belongings or die. That is your first and final warning. Over and out." At least he was fair about it. Most pirates will simply try to disable or kill you, not allowing you the chance of escape. I couldn't afford to have to give all this up again, and the Rebels would certainly make me pay for the ship if I surrendered and made it out alive. My only chance was to put up a fight. I made my decision and quickly turned the Manta away from the fleet, and proceeded at full thrust.

Another transmission from the pirate fleet commander appeared over the radio. "You have made a mistake, captain, perhaps even your last." I continued in my retreat, but two of the Clippers were advancing from behind. They must be equipped with an engine-enhancing device, I thought to myself, and judging from the black exhaust coming from the rear, not a very good one. As soon as the first was in range, he fired a round of Javelin rockets. I attempted to swerve from side to side, but I only succeeded in slowing myself down. I got back on track and tried to regain control of the situation, but my lead was steadily being lost. In a standard maneuver, I turned myself around, but did not accelerate in the opposite direction. This way, I could still fire upon the enemy with out having to lose my speed. I watched as their Javelins collided with my shields, moving a bit farther inwards each time. I decided to save my missiles for the argosies, when I would really need them. I pointed the ship's nose towards the lead Clipper and began firing laser cannons, trying to weaken them enough to allow safe passage around them. I saw that his shields were dropping, but his rockets were too powerful in comparison to my cannons. I knew that my only chance would be to get around him. As my shields hit fifteen percent...then twelve... I fired up my engines once again, attempting to make a full about-face while I was turned towards him. I dodged his vessel by only meters, as I hit full speed in the other direction. He flew behind me as that was the last thing he had expected. His momentum threw him to the edge of my radar screen before he tried to regain speed. There was no way he would manage as long as I gave him enough sharp turns to deal with. I immediately set my targeting scanner for the head Argosy and waited for him to enter range. When he did, I fired my first missile, then the second. In the distance I saw them contact with small flashes of light. Each one drew him closer and closer to his doom. After the second one made contact, his shields had hit thirty percent. He must have been damaged from previous battle to be so easily damaged. I fired the third and prepared for close combat as I neared his ship. I saw the third make contact, and with it's explosion came the collapse of the faint, green shielding around him. Seeing him in his most vulnerable stage, I fired my laser cannons relentlessly until the engines and weaponry systems had failed.

I sent a radio message to the remaining ships. "Your commander and his ship have been captured," I said. "I have already sent a subspace message to Beeblebrox requesting backup and a ship equipped with a tractor beam. Unless you want to die, I would suggest leaving the system immediately. Rebel Command doesn't take very kindly to people such as yourselves." They must have taken my message as seriously as it was spoken, for the last trace of them disappeared as with a flash of light as they entered hyperspace. I sent the message to Beeblebrox and the neighboring systems, just as I had told the pirate fleet. I checked my scanners once again to ensure that there were still life signs on the disabled Argosy, and that the life support systems were stable. A dead pirate was good, but a live one was so much more useful, especially if a promotion was possible. All I had to do now was to wait until the Rebel fleet arrived, equipped with a tractor beam to tow the pirate and his ship back to the nearest Rebel planet. And wait I did...

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