Chronology (as excerpted from the AD2307 edition of the Encyclopedia Terranica)

2009 A former First lady is inaugurated as the United States’ first female President.

2010 The U.S.-led War on Terror is declared over and won by the new President.

2011 An epidemic across North America and Europe is determined by various intelligence agencies to be the result of a biological attack by Islamofascist terrorists. Over three million Americans, Canadians, and Europeans ultimately perish. The U.S. President tries to bring the perpetrators to justice via the courts, to no avail.

2012 The Kyoto Protocol expires. The Treaty of Berne is proposed to toughen measures to combat manmade global warming. Most of the developed world signs the Treaty of Berne. Even the United States, with the Democrats firmly ensconced in the White House and Capitol Hill, formally signs the treaty and subordinates its economic well being to the dictates of global warming alarmists. Meanwhile, the U.S. President is reelected, possibly due to voter fraud that was never investigated by the Justice Department, Congress, or the media.

2015 The economies of the Western world shrink as they adhere to the Treaty of Berne. By the end of the fiscal year, experts determine that the Berne-exempt China and India have both outpaced the United States as the world’s economic leaders.

2016 Unable to support its powerful military with a weakening economy thanks to the strictures of the Treaty of Berne, the United States undergoes a massive disarmament program.

2017 Within twenty months after commencement of its disarmament program, the U.S. military has been reduced to a quarter of its FY2015 strength. The reign of the U.S. as the world’s lone superpower is declared at an end by the United Nations secretary-general, and leftists across the world rejoice. China readily accepts the mantle as the lone superpower. Western civilization’s decline becomes a nosedive.

2020 The “manmade global warming” hysteria is finally accepted as the sham that it is, propagated by leftists who wanted to bring down Western civilization. The damage is already done, however, as economic powerhouses China and India dominate the world.

2025-2031 The Indo-Chinese War. Overpopulation combined with limited territory result in China and India coming to blows. China prevails, smashing the once-robust economy of India. China forces a harsh peace treaty on India. Retributive war reparations destroy what was left of India’s economic power.

2032-2040 Suffering a nationwide depression, India comes under the sway of Islamofascists from Iran, sowing the seeds of a new caliphate.

2045 On the centennial of the creation of the United Nations, China moves the headquarters from New York to Beijing. The UN becomes a Chinese empire in all but name.

2050 The latest census figures show that Muslims are the majority populations across North America and Europe. Political power had shifted dramatically over the last few decades.

2060 The U.S. becomes the last Western nation to shed its Western code of laws and adopt Sharia law.

2070 Worldwide sociologists and political scientists arrive at a consensus indicating that the world is divided into two totalitarian power blocs: the atheistic socialists led by Beijing and the Islamic jihadists.

2083 The Islamic jihadists formally separate from the UN, becoming the United Caliphate of Islam with its capital in the historic city of Baghdad in the former Iraq. The Caliphate comprises the Middle East, North Africa, Europe, and the Western Hemisphere. To prevent further secessions, Beijing tightens its hold on the UN. Global stagnation ensues.

2116-2128 The Sino-Islamic War, also known as World War III. This long, drawn-out clash of arms leaves both empires devastated. The UN defeats the Caliphate, but just barely.

2130 Mustafa Abdullah Hakim al-Cheyenne, a fair-haired veteran of the Sino-Islamic War and one of the millions of subjects of the Caliphate who secretly remained a Christian, retired to his hometown of Cheyenne, located in an area near the Rocky Mountains that was once called Wyoming. He has in his possession literature that is banned by the Caliphate—literature that includes copies of the U.S. Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution. Seeing the weakness of the Caliphate since the war, he foments unrest. Included in his planned revolt are men who had served with him in the war and who wish to see the return of the liberties enjoyed by their American forefathers. He drops his Muslim name and takes the name Boone, which had been his family name from before the jihad conversion. Taking as his Christian name a historic name important to his American forebears, Mustafa Hakim becomes George Washington Boone.

2130-2135 The Second War of American Independence. General George W. Boone leads a rebellion that frees North America from Caliphate subjugation. Weakened by the Sino-Islamic War, the Caliphate is no match for North American militia emboldened by the fires of liberty.

2135 The birth of the North American Republic, its capital in Washington, DC. The nation is created along the ideals presented in the Declaration of Independence, the original U.S. Constitution, and the ten amendments of the Bill of Rights. Its territory stretches across North America from coast to coast and from the Arctic Circle in the north to the Panama Canal in the south. Christianity and Judaism are no longer outlawed, and Western civilization is reborn.

2136 The voters elect General George Boone as President of the North American Republic and four hundred members of the Congress of the Republic.

2138-2141 Emboldened by their neighbors to the north, the still-staunch (though secretly) Catholic peoples of South America revolt from the weakened Caliphate. The North American Republic lends its aid, and all of the Western Hemisphere becomes free of the Caliphate’s yoke. The papal see—hiding in central Brazil since its ouster from Rome after Europe fell to the Caliphate—now openly ministers to the pope’s flock from the new Vatican in Sao Paulo, Brazil.

2145 The peoples of South America vote to join the North American Republic, which henceforth becomes simply the American Republic. The West once again becomes the beacon of freedom and liberty in the world.

2148 After three terms as President, George Boone does not seek reelection. He retires to his home in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Mary Chase of Calgary, Alberta—the wife of Boone’s most trusted lieutenant during the Second Revolution and a constitutional scholar in her own right—wins the election as the Republic’s second President.

2150-2210 These years mark a period of prosperity for the people of the American continents as their freedom provides unfettered opportunity. The Republic’s people, no longer stifled by either the Caliphate’s theocratic fascism or the UN’s socialism that plague the rest of the world, transforms the new nation into an economic powerhouse in less than five decades after its independence from totalitarian rule. The period also sees the expansion of freedom for the world’s populations as the totalitarian regimes lose power and influence.

2156 Australia revolts, declaring itself independent from UN rule. Beijing tries to subjugate its wayward province by force, but the American Republic allies itself with the freedom-seeking Australians. After five months of intense fighting, the UN relents. Australia is granted its independence.

2157 New Zealand is granted its independence from the UN without a shot being fired.

2158 Observing the weakness of the corrupt regime in Beijing, and securing a promise of aid from the Americans, Japan secedes from the UN.

2159 Australia and New Zealand jointly vote to become protectorates of the American Republic.

2160 Japan formally accepts status as a protectorate of the Republic.

2173 A joint research team with astrophysicists from America, Australia, and Japan discovers the exotic material called tachyon particles. They successfully use the tachyons to open a stable wormhole in high Earth orbit for less than a second.

2186 A probe on the outer reaches of the solar system attempts to re-create the orbital experiment of 2173. Far beyond the gravitational interference of the sun, the resultant wormhole remains open for a long five seconds before the small nuclear reactor aboard the probe is drained of power.

2187 On the year of former President George Boone’s death at 90 years of age, Constantine Andros, a Greek nationalist from Athens, is inspired by the late American hero.

2188-2191 The War for Europe. Starting with his home in Athens, long called the cradle of democracy, Andros foments unrest against the Caliphate. Rebellion spreads across Europe, and the Caliphate attempts to suppress it. Andros asks for aid from the Republic, and President Hudson Gaines readily agrees. Gaines sends direct military support to the European rebellion, but the Caliphate is aided by an unexpected ally: the United Nations. Beijing, worried that a successful European rebellion would inspire more of the UN’s own subject peoples to rebel as well, allies itself with the Caliphate. Even the combined military might of the UN and the Caliphate cannot stand up to the fires of liberty burning within the European freedom fighters and their American allies. Europe is freed and becomes a protectorate of the Republic.

2191 The War for Africa. As the Caliphate is still reeling from the War for Europe, the peoples of Africa secure their freedom in a short but intensely bloody conflict. The year also marks the last gasp of the Caliphate. The sultan in Baghdad is deposed by militia forces from the Middle East.

2192-2202 World War IV. As Africa and the Middle East elect to become protectorates of the Republic, the United Nations engineers a war with America. The global war lasts ten years and kills hundreds of millions of people. By the end of hostilities, the power of the UN is finally broken. Socialism is finally thrown onto the ash heap of history once and for all, and freedom across the globe prevails.

2210 The American Republic evolves into the Global Republic. Meanwhile, astrophysicists send an unmanned probe through a wormhole to the Alpha Centauri solar system.

2215 A manned flight transits a wormhole from the Sol system to the Alpha Centauri system. The historic flight is marked as a turning point in human history.

2224 A manned flight travels to the Tau Ceti solar system. A habitable planet, similar to Earth, is discovered in the star system.

2227 A colony is established on the planet Nova Terra in the Tau Ceti system.

2235 With the establishment of a second extraterrestrial colony on the planet Ymir in the Epsilon Eridani star system, the Global Republic evolves into the United Systems Republic, or, more familiarly, the Terran Republic.

2280 According to the latest census figures, the Terran Republic has a population of sixty billion people spread among Terra (Earth) and its ten extraterrestrial colonies.

2286 Another turning point in mankind’s history is marked by first contact with an extraterrestrial civilization. While exploring the Hydrae-34 star system, a Terran Republic explorer ship discovers an alien outpost on the fourth planet. Diplomatic overtures are extended, and the crew of the explorer are surprised to find that the outpost is inhabited by humans speaking an utterly alien tongue. The alien nation is eventually identified as the Supreme Galactic Empire, a thousand-year-old interstellar feudal society inhabited by two distinct classes of people. The aristocratic class is composed exclusively of a humanoid alien species known as the Annosians. The peasant class—who make up the merchant class, the military class, and the working class—are composed of lower-class Annosians and non-Annosians, including humans who are descendants of the humans abducted from Terra during the early ages of its history, up to and including the “UFO Craze” of the latter twentieth century. Friendly relations result in trade agreements, including the access of the Empire’s star charts to Terran Republic shipping. The Terrans learn of many alien civilizations thriving in this small corner of the Milky Way galaxy.

2293 The Terrans lose their first merchant ship in a region of space just off the Imperial frontier, a region known for its rich trade opportunities as well as its unrestrained piracy. The region eventually becomes known by the Terrans as the Barbary Corridor, named for the Barbary Coast pirates from Terran history. All established governments, including the powerful Empire, avoid attacks on their shipping in the Corridor through bribing the chieftains of the pirate cartels. The Republic, unable to fight the pirates without an established interstellar armed force, must rely on paying tributes to the cartel chieftains for passage.

2302 The United Systems Republic Congress authorizes the creation of the Republican Navy and the Republican Marine Corps, which become the Republic’s first interstellar armed services.

2305 The keels of the Republican Navy’s first ten star cruisers are laid in orbital shipyards. They are expected to be completed by 2307.

1

“Contact bearing zero-four-three degrees, relative ascension negative two degrees.”

Captain Jack Boone, master of the merchantman Gabrielle, leaned forward in his command chair. “Transponder code?”

The man at the helm console, Roland Paulson, shook his head. “Negative, Cap’n, she ain’t pinging a transponder.”

“No ident transponder, huh,” Jack remarked. “Speed?”

“She’s at point-five percent the speed of light and accelerating, sir.”

Jack rose from his chair and moved to stand behind Roland, peering over the youthful man’s shoulder. Roland—employed by Boone Shipping, Incorporated, for nearly two years—couldn’t have been more than twenty years old.

“Wash the contact’s drive emissions through the ident software,” Jack said.

Roland’s fingers worked the console keyboard. The identification software installed aboard the Gabrielle’s main computer was the most up-to-date currently available in the United Systems Republic. Jack had heard rumors, however, that a new, more precise identification software was in the process of being created for the warships now under construction for the new United Systems Republic Navy.

“Ident coming through now,” Roland said. “It’s a KS41.”

Jack nodded in acknowledgment. The ship on the screen was a small armed merchant ship built by Kreuger Shipbuilding out of Terra Nova in the Tau Ceti system. The Model 41 was a fairly old design, and most shipping companies had sold theirs off. Many of the KS41s in operation anymore were crewed by pirates preying on shipping in the Republic’s frontier systems. The fact that the KS41 on the screen wasn’t broadcasting an identification signal told Jack that it was most likely a pirate vessel.

“All right, let’s put some space between us,” Jack said. “Change course to bearing two-seven-four, ascension one. Accelerate to two-point-five at full burn.”

“Aye, aye,” Roland said.

Jack felt nothing as the Gabrielle accelerated; her artificial gravity field generators effectively compensated any change in internal inertia. The ship’s fusion reactors churned out plasma as a by-product of their normal operations, similar to the reactions inside a sun, and as with all starships of Terran design the Gabrielle’s thrust was produced by venting that plasma through directional nozzles. The primary nozzles were located in the four drive nacelles near the stern, and with the ship currently at full burn all the thrust was being directed out the aft nozzles on the nacelles. When the Gabrielle achieved the velocity of two-point-five percent the speed of light, Roland shut the drives down to allow the ship to move under inertial power.

At 3,500 tons, the Gabrielle was a comparatively small ship—not as big as the massive freighters operated by many of the large shipping conglomerates. Named by Jack’s father for his wife, Jack’s mother, the Gabrielle had been built three years ago by the Lanford Shipbuilding Corporation out of Norfolk, Virginia. She was a modern ship, designed to rely on her agility to protect herself against dangers such as piracy. However, if she couldn’t avoid danger, she had sixteen railguns in eight twin-mount turrets to meet the danger head-on.

“The KS41 changed direction and velocity to pursue,” Roland said.

“Hey, Jack, what’s going on?” asked a voice behind Jack.

Jack looked over his shoulder toward the Gabrielle’s first mate, his younger brother. Tom Boone, like his elder brother, was tall with pale Nordic features, right down to his blond hair and blue eyes. At thirty-four, Tom was two years and three months Jack’s junior.

Tom was not standing alone. Layla al-Akbar, an attractive young woman of twenty-nine with raven tresses and a deep tanned complexion, stood at his side. It was no secret aboard the Gabrielle that the two were lovers—for one thing they shared a cabin.

“Could be a pirate,” Jack said. “We’re being shadowed by a KS41.”

“A KS41, huh? Haven’t seen one of those since Dad sold off his last one twenty years ago.”

“We should be able to outrun it without a problem.”

“Some of those pirate cartels have been known to soup up their ships’ engines.”

“That can be dangerous. If they crank up their engines’ power without a corresponding reinforcement of the ship’s hull, they could tear themselves apart.”

“Man, we’re so worried about the alien pirates in the Barbary Corridor, and here we haven’t left Republic space and we’re running from one of our home-grown pirates.”

Jack moved away from Roland’s station and stepped up to the dais on the aft deck of the bridge, where the tactical holotable was located. He took an earpiece and put it in his ear, adjusting the attached mic to the corner of his mouth. Tom and Layla, also wearing earpieces, joined him at the holotable.

A holographic icon of the Gabrielle hovered over the center of the table. A red blip was positioned off the Gabrielle’s stern and slightly lower than her horizontal plane. An identification tag attached to the blip showed the hostile ship’s designation, relative speed, and distance. The distance numbers were slowly ticking down.

“Full burn on the thrusters,” Jack said into his mic.

“Full burn,” Roland responded.

The Gabrielle’s main thrusters fired, hurling the ship at full acceleration. Still, the distance numbers on the red blip’s tag continued to count down.

“They’re still gaining,” Tom said. “The Gabrielle should have no problem outrunning a fifty-year-old design like the KS41. Looks like they did soup up their engines.”

“Agreed,” Jack said. “Man the turrets. Compartmentalize the ship.”

Layla reached over to a panel and flipped a toggle. Klaxons banged throughout the Gabrielle, sending her men scrambling through her corridors to man their battle stations. Weapons stations were manned, the weapons primed and ready. Airtight doors slammed shut and secured themselves to maintain airtight integrity against battle damage depressurization.

“All stations report manned and ready,” Tom said. “All airtight doors sealed. The cargo bay is depressurized.”

“What’s our distance to the jump point?”

“The jump point to SSC345 is three light minutes out. We’ll have to come to all-stop to open the wormhole, Jack. All they have to do is wait for us to decelerate on our final approach to the jump point.”

“I’m tired of running from these clowns,” Jack said.

Tom smirked. “We could always stand and fight.”

“Yes, we could. Good idea, actually.”

“What? Jack, no, it was just a joke.”

“Even when jesting, you come up with good ideas.” Jack gave his brother a friendly slap on the shoulder. “That’s why I keep you around.”

“No, you keep me around because Dad wants me to have my own ship someday, and you’re supposed to take me under your wing. Dad tells us to always run. Save the cargo, and more importantly, ourselves and our men.”

Layla coughed.

Tom smiled sheepishly. “And women.”

Jack motioned toward the red blip closing on the Gabrielle’s icon. “A KS41 has, what, three hard points for weapons mounts, and those could be single-mount or twin-mount turrets, depending on what that particular pirate captain could afford.”

“Well, since he can afford an engine upgrade, I would guess he’s packing twin-mounts.”

“Even so, we outgun him.”

“That’s if he hasn’t added more hard points.”

Jack shook his head. “Not likely. He’s limited by the space available on his ship. Boosting his power output requires add-on boosters to the KS41’s factory-install engines, and that upgrade would eat into the only open space he has available—his cargo holds. By adding turret hard points he would have to sacrifice more cargo space. He is still a pirate, and pirates need someplace to store all their booty.”

“I guess so. What if he’s not alone?”

“They would be maneuvering to box us in when we decelerate in preparation to make the jump. Fighting is inevitable, because he’ll catch up to us once we begin to decelerate. So, we have to decide if we want to fight on his terms or ours.”

“Preferably ours.”

“Which means we fight here, now, before his buddies, if he has any, come into play.”

“All right.”

“It’ll be nice to actually fight back for once.” Jack tapped his earpiece to activate it. “Roland, drop an EM flare and detonate it, then cut all power to the engines.”

“Aye, aye,” Roland responded.

“What will that do?” Tom asked.

“It’ll look to their sensors like we had to dump one of our reactors before it blew,” Jack said.

“Playing possum?”

“He won’t come in guns blazing if he thinks we’re already crippled. No sense in needlessly risking damage to potential loot.”

“We’re a long way from our home in Wyoming, ain’t we, bro.”

Jack nodded, offering his brother a smile.

--

Elizabeth Madison emerged from the lander shuttle and basked in natural sunlight for the first time since leaving Earth two weeks ago. Granted, it wasn’t the same sun, but it was warm radiation from a G2-class yellow star. Like most citizens of the Republic, Elizabeth was not born on Terra. Only about twenty percent of Terrans were born on the home world. Elizabeth, however, could call no one planet home during the latter years of her childhood. As her mother rose from local politics on Ymir to national politics, she had dutifully followed. Between her mother’s political savvy and her father’s profession as a negotiator with the Republic’s Federal Bureau of Investigation, everyone around Elizabeth thought her path in life was pretty much assured. As it turned out, they were right.

The space terminal in which she now tread was in Jericho City, colonial capital of the planet Canaan, orbiting the star SSC351. The star system lay on the Republic’s frontier, far from the Sol system, and the colonial assembly of Canaan frequently debated on whether or not to vote for secession from the Republic to create an independent nation.

Elizabeth took out her PDA as she walked to the baggage terminal, where she picked up her travel bag. She accessed the map-finder software and located the position of the Republican federal building in relation to the starport. She hailed a taxi, and a yellow checkered aircar touched down at the curb. She embarked and told the driver her destination. He put the aircar in motion, whisking her through the streets of the city at surface level. While aircars could fly up to twenty meters off the ground, city ordinances all across the settled worlds of the Republic uniformly reserved the skies within city limits for emergency vehicles.

The cab came to an abrupt halt in front of a four-story-tall plain gray building whose architect looked to have been enamored with ancient Greek design. Blazoned across the top of a row of columns was the building’s identification: United Systems Republic Federal Building. The national flag of the Republic, comprising red and white alternating horizontal stripes with a dark blue star-spangled field in the upper corner, fluttered from the flagstaff at the peak of the roof.

Elizabeth walked into the building, entering the spacious foyer. A security guard quickly passed a scanner over her and nodded in satisfaction. Passing the security station, Elizabeth found the nearest elevator, which she took to the fourth floor. Accessing the schematics of the building with her PDA, she found the ambassador’s office.

A woman, about ten years older than Elizabeth’s age of thirty-three, stood from her desk as Elizabeth entered the receptionist’s area. The woman held a hand to the visitor, and Elizabeth accepted the handshake.

“Ms. Madison,” the receptionist said. “Welcome to Canaan. How was your flight?”

“The star liner was nice,” Elizabeth said, “but the lander shuttle from orbit was a bit choppy. I think there’s a storm system incoming.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, I left the windows of my car down. I wish you’d have told me you arrived in orbit. I could have had a car sent to the starport to pick you up when your shuttle landed.”

“That’s all right. I’m used to fending for myself. Coming to a new planet is not new to me.”

“Well, Mr. Potter’s away from his office right now. Getting some coffee, I think You’re welcome to wait for him in his office.”

The woman, her name plate reading Anita, gestured to an oaken door. At least it looked like oak—it could be made from a hardwood native to this planet for all Elizabeth knew. The receptionist manually opened the door via doorknob and pushed it open. Elizabeth thought it quaint that Potter would opt to have an old-fashioned manual door on his office instead of some kind of motorized mechanism.

The receptionist stepped aside to let Elizabeth through into the office. Anita took the visitor’s travel bag and set it behind her own desk. Elizabeth stepped into the office and seated herself in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Anita closed the door, and Elizabeth was alone.

The door opened, and Elizabeth turned in her chair to look. A tall man with gray hair walked in.

“Ms. Elizabeth Madison?” he asked.

Elizabeth stood. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re as pretty in person as your mother is on the screen.”

She resisted her urge to reach for her dark hair, which was tied back in a utilitarian ponytail. “You must be Christopher Potter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Potter smiled. They exchanged hand shakes. “If you’re here, the President must be serious about ensuring that Canaan remain within the Republic.”

“Yes, sir, she is.” Elizabeth sat down and donned her reading glasses. She took out her PDA, ready to take notes. “I need to know all you can tell me about the two parties.”

“Sure.” Potter seated himself behind his desk. He took out a PDA and scrolled through it. “Most of those who favor independence are in the upper echelons of colonial society, while most of those who favor staying part of the Republic are among the common folk. The loudest voice among the secessionists is a trial lawyer named Heironymous Vaughn. It’ll be Vaughn who you’ll be facing.”

“What are the items of contention? Why are the secessionists favoring secession? I’ve heard the reports, but I want your take as someone who’s here on scene.”

“They talk a good game about liberty, but mostly, I think, they don’t want to be tethered to a government thousands of light years away. They want to run the colony their way without any interference from the Republican Constitution.”

Elizabeth noted the information in her PDA. “So these elites who favor secession don’t have the support of the general population?”

“No, but the secessionists are close to having a majority in the colonial assembly. The secessionists’ rhetoric looks to be working to turn some fence-sitters to their cause.”

“Do I understand correctly that the colonial governor doesn’t favor secession?”

“Correct. The secessionists were confident they had the gubernatorial election locked, but their media influence wasn’t as great as they thought this time around. The local media here, by the way, are among the elitists who favor secession.”

Elizabeth made notes in her PDA.

“There’s a fear among the populace,” Potter continued, “that once Canaan is independent it’ll become an oligarchy with the elites in charge. I’ve met some of the secessionists, and I can’t say that fear is unfounded. Having you here will embolden the pro-Republicans to fight harder, and those on the fence may come down on the side of staying in the Republic.”

“And my being here on behalf of the Republic won’t be considered nepotism?”

“You’ve been a negotiator long before your mother was elected President, and I’m sure those involved in the debate will already have researched your record and know that you’re the real deal. Besides, the pro-Republicans and fence-sitters might feel that President Madison is serious about keeping Canaan in the Republic if she’s willing to send her daughter to negotiate on behalf of the Republic. Family ties are important here on Canaan.”

“When’s the first session?”

“Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock local time.”

Elizabeth checked her wrist watch. “I’m still on Universal Time. What time is it now?”

“Three in the afternoon. Local time in Jericho City is close to Universal Time, so you’re not far off. Go to your hotel and get some rest. I’ll have a car pick you up at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good.”

--

The Gabrielle drifted unpowered through the vacuum, looking dead to any passive sensors scanning her. The unidentified ship decelerated to a slow velocity relative to the Gabrielle and approached off the merchantman’s port quarter.

“He’s in range of the visuals,” Tom said.

“Punch it up,” Jack said.

Tom flicked a toggle and worked the keyboard. One of the screens near the tactical table snapped on, showing the image of the approaching ship on the Gabrielle’s telescopes. Tom zoomed in, bringing into view a name stenciled above a representation of a shark’s open maw that was painted across the vessel’s prow.

“The Jaws of Terror,” Tom remarked. “Ooh, I’m terrified.”

“Let’s ram some depleted uranium down their throat,” Jack said. He activated his communicator. “Gunners, center your sights on that mouth painted across the bow and open fire.”

Streams of blue-white tracer fire lanced out as the Gabrielle’s railguns discharged thousands of rounds of depleted uranium projectiles. The tracers converged on the pirate ship, stitching across its bow. Plating flecked away as the high-velocity hits chewed into the hull.

The Jaws of Terror suddenly fired her deceleration thrusts, her maneuvering thrusters firing to turn her broadside toward the Gabrielle. The pirate ship’s starboard turret fired off a hasty shot, missing wide.

“I can’t believe they fell for it,” Tom said.

The Jaws of Terror rolled enough to unmask her dorsal turret, and those guns joined the starboard turret in firing. Yellow tracers lanced out, but again they missed.

“We must have taken out their fire control sensors with that first hit,” Tom said.

“The computer core of the KS41, including their firing solution computers, lies in the forward section of the ship.” Jack pointed to the screen. “Right behind that mouth they painted on her. Now they have to shoot by eye, and at these distances that’s difficult at best.”

The Gabrielle’s gunners continued their firing, pumping salvoes of tracers into the hull of the Jaws of Terror. The pirate ship suddenly engaged its main thrusters and accelerated away from the Gabrielle.

Jack activated his comms. “Cease firing.”

The merchantman’s guns fell silent.

“How’d you know their computer core was there?” Tom asked.

“Basic ship design. One of the biggest complaints about the KS41 was the vulnerability of the computer core. One bad hit on their bow, even by space debris like stray asteroids, and they lose not only fire control but also their wormhole stabilizers, navigational positioning data, and even basic functions like the computer-controlled water reclamation system. Most KS41s in service received retrofits that included additional armored protection on the bow hull plates, but those armor plates were designed to protect against space hazards, not gunfire.”

“And you weren’t worried the ship’s new pirate owners might upgrade the armor to protect it from gunfire?”

“Armor plating of that caliber is expensive, more expensive than what any pirate cartel can afford. And it’s strictly regulated by the federal government.”

“Well, maybe the armor plating forged in Terran foundries is a controlled commodity. That’s not going to stop someone from going to the Barbary Corridor and getting some black market stuff. I hear that for the right price, Imperial plating can be for sale. Just grease the palm of the nearest Imperial governor, and he’ll look the other way.”

“The pirates of the Barbary Corridor may be able to afford black market Imperial armor plating, but our home grown pirates marauding the Republic’s star systems don’t have the advantage of a protection racket funding their activities.”

“True.”

“Besides, most Terran pirates don’t have to contend with a ship like the Gabrielle. We’re better armed than most Orbital Guard cutters.” Jack tapped his earpiece. “All right, Roland, let’s spin up the reactors and get us back on course.”

“Aye, aye,” Roland said.

Tom folded his arms across his chest. “So, once we get to the Corridor, what then? We may be able to chase off a KS41, but the Barbary pirates have dedicated warships escorting their loot-haulers.”

“That’s why Dad told us to only go as far as Tortuga. It might be more lucrative to sell these medicines directly to the Vincarans instead of through their middleman on Tortuga, but to reach Vincaran space we’d have to cross six pirate-infested star systems.”

“And Tortuga is in a border system. Gotcha. I just think that a nation supposedly as powerful as the Supreme Galactic Empire is should be able to control a region of space abutting its territory.”

Jack smiled. “Well, you know what they say about the Supreme Galactic Empire, don’t you? It’s neither supreme nor galactic nor truly an empire.”

--

The Alexander P. Hastings, a Republic-flagged freighter out of New Alsace, cruised steadily through the vast vacuum of space in one of the star systems that made up the Barbary Corridor, loaded with a cargo of unrefined ore. She was an old ship, barely meeting current Republic regulations.

Carlos Montoya, the ship’s master, leaned back in his chair on the bridge and fired up his cigar. The aromatic smoke wafted around him as he propped his feet up on the long-range sensor scope console. The long-range sensors had been nonfunctional for the last two voyages, and company management was unwilling to release the funds necessary to contract someone to repair it. So the console’s screen was blank.

He watched in silence as the first mate conferred with the navigator and the astronomer over the navigation console. They were worried about the solar flares that were reported to be active. They weren’t confident that the ship’s deteriorating electronic shielding might not stand up to a direct hit by a flare, thereby frying the electronics.

Montoya, however, could care less. This was his last voyage with Hanson and Yusuf Shipping; he had turned in his resignation to corporate headquarters via hyperwave transmission while the ship was on-loading its cargo. No more was he going to drive a straw-bottomed old rust bucket across space. A rival shipping company had offered him a brand-new, state-of-the-art freighter with niceties such as astrogational uplinks, self-defense weaponry, modern engines, and even a functioning long-range sensor.

The astronomer moved from the navigational console to the computer terminal where he made some calculations. He returned to the navigation console.

“I’ve run the calculations based on the report broadcast from that Hyronian freighter,” the astronomer said. “I think that flare will intercept our course just as we’re passing through. Of course, without any long-range sensors, we won’t be able to see it until it’s almost on top of us.”

“I think we’ll have to change course to avoid an incoming flare, Captain,” the navigator said.

Montoya puffed on his cigar. “How long of a delay are we looking at if we do?”

“We’ll probably reach our destination three days late.”

The captain pointed forward. “No, keeping going on our present course. Ahead steady.”

The navigator scowled. “What about the electronics?”

“If we have enough warning, we should be able to power down our systems to keep them from being fried..”

“All right, Captain. We’ll maintain course.”

“We might be lucky, and my calculations could be off,” the astronomer said. “But if I’m right, we risk more than the electronics. This old bucket can’t stand up to too much of a pounding. The radiation shielding lining the hull might let some of the flare’s radiation through to affect the crew.”

Montoya could only agree. The Hastings was, to use the vernacular, a piece of crap. “Ah, damn, perhaps we should divert. Thirty degrees ascension on the bow, Mr. Anderson.”

“Yes, Captain,” said the navigator, and he began plotting the assigned course change.

The navigator issued orders to the man at the helm, and the ponderous ship began a slow “rise” relative to the system primary.

Montoya puffed on his cigar, contentedly thinking of air-conditioned staterooms, world-class galley facilities, and hyperwave uplinks. That’s what he would experience as master of the state-of-the-art Noble Venture, after finally leaving the Alexander P. Hastings behind him.

Montoya’s nostrils flared as a stench assailed him. He scrunched his face.

“Did something die in the ventilation duct again?” he wondered aloud.

The navigator raised his hand. “I’m afraid that was me, Captain. Yesterday’s bean burritos.”

“For God’s sake, Mr. Anderson, what did I tell about that?”

“Sorry, Captain.”

“Why isn’t the purge system working?”

“No spare parts.”

The deck of the bridge suddenly shuddered.

Montoya came out of his chair. “What the hell?”

“That wasn’t me,” the navigator said. “Honest.”

“No, that was gunfire. We’re under attack.”

The first mate checked a console. “I can’t see anything on short range yet.” He moved to another console. “I have something on visuals.”

“On screen,” Montoya said.

The image appeared on the large view screen on the forward bulkhead of the bridge. A sleek vessel appeared as viewed through the Hastings’s telescopes. It was not a cumbersome cargo vessel, but a well-armed man of war.

“Barbary pirates,” the first mate said. “Their first hit took out our starboard thrusters.”

“What do we do?” the navigator asked.

“We’re unarmed on a deteriorating rattle-trap,” Montoya said. “Our only option is surrender.”

“We’ll become slaves, sir. We’ll wind up on an auction block before the end of the week.”

“At least we’ll be alive.”