,

  Admiral Nelson could guess the status of the battle as he watched starfighters flying by and performing death-defying stunts like looping the loops and corkscrews, trying to keep from getting shot down. He saw one titan-class battleship being repeatedly bombed by hundreds of bombers. Interceptors were trying to defend it as the Federation pilots were shot down rapidly — their bombers and escort fighters exploding in a shower of shrapnel.

  The enemy fighters were scattered just outside the viewport of the bridge as one squadron moved in for the kill. Three Confederation fighter-crafts came in and separated two enemy fighters from their formation. Despite their acrobatics, they were quickly shot down in a short but brutal dogfight.

  Admiral Nelson turned his back to the viewport, averting his gaze from the battle raging outside. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket his wife had made for his birthday. He opened it, and inside was a hologram of his son and daughter. His wife was caught at a conference for metalsmiths at Hoth Prime. His son joined the navy today and his daughter was a first officer on one of the frigates. While the battle raged, he thought of his son — a kitten of 17 years — onboard the Titan-Class Battleship which was under attack from two enemy battle cruisers.

  As he thought of his family, He could guess that he was winning the battle with 10 percent certainty and that the battle was a draw with 22 percent certainty.

  The sensor officer spoke, “Admiral, four Titan-Class battleships just warped into range. They are under attack from picket ships and enemy frigates. The battleships are maintaining their shields for the moment, but their shield generators are about to overheat.”

  Nelson sighed. “Dispatch the predator drones. Load them with Pulse torpedoes and blast-wave missiles. After dealing with the fighters, tell the four battleships to launch a barrage of tricobalt torpedoes at the ships on the left flank. We need to begin breaking up this clusterfuck. Tell the ships on the right flank to tighten up and form a line. I think we are winning, but I can’t be 100% sure until we organize our lines.”

  One after the other, one hundred predator drones launched from the command ship in quick succession.

  The drones were in the shape of a triangle, with two photon blaster cannons on the tips of the wings and a repeater blaster in the center. In addition, there were two thrusters in the back, a five-million-gigawatt shield, and eight-inch-thick durasteel armor.

  The carriers were attacked and the drones quickly forced the enemy fighters to disperse. They took out 400 enemy fighters in a quick series of dogfights by coming behind them with overwhelming speed and blasting the pilots out of space with the repeater blaster. The destroyed fighter craft exploded in a fireball and a shower of white-hot shrapnel.

  Admiral Nelson watched the entire battle from the drone squad leader’s camera.

  He spoke into his triquarter, “Drone 6252, I want you to attack the two federation carrier engines. Launch the energy pulse torpedoes at the thrusters.”

  “Sir, might I suggest we clean up the enemy spacecraft first?” said Drone 6252 in a monotone computerized voice.

  Admiral Nelson had to admit it was hard to argue with logic. “Sure. Be quick about it. The sooner we take out those carriers, the better.” Admiral Nelson hoped taking the carriers would force the enemy off of the battlefield.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Predator squad began taking out fighters and bombers. The Confederate Navy formation tightened over the next 80 minutes, and the Feds became more disorganized. The enemy began fleeing. The two carriers were attacked in the span of minutes. The engines exploded in a shower of debris and white-hot sparks. The Federation lines began to fold not long afterward. It didn’t happen immediately, but over the next half hour, the Federation ships began warping off the battlefield after picking up escape pods from destroyed starships.

  After the drones returned to the ship, one by one, the enemy ships disappeared in a flash of light, leaving behind their dead and broken allies. The system began to empty as the enemy retreated.

  After an hour, the star system was completely quiet.

  Ten Minutes Later:

  Brinus and Simmie were in the starship’s hallway outside the robotics lab. Rather than the red light flashing now, it was a yellow light. Brinus had his foot against the wall and leaned back into it, and Simmie leaned on the wall with his feet on the ground. The hallway was quiet. It was calm after the battle. The lieutenant walked up to Brinus. Brinus and Simmie saluted the lieutenant.

  “Stinkball! The commander is going to begin salvage operations in about 30 minutes. Finish your boy time and then get to the hanger.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  After chilling with Simmie, he went to the vending machine and put eight credits into it. He then bought two bags of salted turnip chips and a bottle of soda.

  He walked over to the flight deck, launchpad 10, where the salvage teams assembled.

  He walked to the young man and saluted him. “I’m Helios. ya got need fer a salvage expert?”

  The young man was a Petty Officer 1st class and a squad leader. He looked at Brinus. “You’re the ex-con everyone is talking about?”

  Brinus was unsure how to respond and just looked at the petty officer with a blank stare.

  “Welcome to my crew, Stinkball. My squad will be here shortly. Are you certified as an Engineer? Do you have any EOD experience?”

  “I got formal credentials last week in basic trainin’? I was drafted from prison as an engineer, sir.”

  The petty officer smiled. “Good. You’re my new EOD specialist for the squad.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.”

  “Oh btw stinkball, a fire team already cleared the Carrier so there should be nothing left.”

  Brinus’s heart pounded from nerves as he was strapped in and handed a pistol. The budding sweat was itchy against a deadpan look on his face. His skin was cold against his uniform and he feared he would fail. Thought brinus as he shook his leg and bit his nails. The nerves left him paralyized with fear.

  “You okay cadet?” asked a petty officer 3rd class next to him.

  The lieutenant smiled and gave Brinus a love tap and ruffled his messy hair. “It’s his first time in combat. I’ve seen this before. You’ll do good stinkball with someone of your background.” The commissioned lieutenant pointed to the no smoking sign on the crew compartment as he boarded the shuttle, “Anyone caught smoking or vaping in the bathroom or the weapons room will forfeit their share of the prize money from your salvage.”

  A crewmate handed Brinus a box of nicotine patches, “Take these, you look like you’re about to pop.”

  Four large shuttles landed in the flight bay 20 minutes from the enemy carrier’s landing strip. It had several large holes in the flight deck and half-destroyed fighters and fighter-bombers in rows. There were burnt corpses everywhere and a putrid smell of smoke in the atmosphere. The air reeked of death and burning synthetic materials.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The Lieutenant yelled, “Alright, boys and girls! Gather up! Is everyone here?”

  The men, women, and cat people nodded.

  “Cadet Stinkball! It says in your service record you were an engineer with a specialty in metallurgy and machining. You have an EOD disposal certificate! Petty Officer Samol! I want you to take your group and defuse the proton torpedoes, plasma missiles, and concussion missiles in the arsenal. Everyone else! Y’all know your assignments. We probably have about one hour before the life support cuts out and another one-and-a-half hours of breathable air afterward. Everyone knows what to do?”

  “Sir, Yes, sir!” said everyone in unison.

  “Dismissed!”

  He found his squad leader and then walked over to him. An atmosphere began to form between Brinus and two of the crewmen.

  Brinus’s squad leader looked at Brinus. “Youvon, your battle buddy is Brinus. Find the torpedo workshop and get me some missiles!”

  Youvon groaned but took working with Brinus in stride as they left the flight deck.

  Brinus and his battle buddy entered the torpedo workshop. Hundreds of torpedoes and tens of dozens of missiles were piled on storage racks. He popped off percussion caps from the concussion missiles and put them into vacuum-sealed baggies. It looked easy, but detonating a torpedo accidentally was one careless slip of the hand away. His heart pounded in his ears as he hyper-focused on his job. Youvon removed the radiological fuses from the proton torpedoes.

  Brinus heard footsteps from outside of the torpedo workshop after fifteen minutes as Youvon listened to music on earbuds and was oblivious. He knew someone was about to ambush them, so he took his blaster pistol off the safety and positioned his back to the wall, facing the door. Youvon continued headbanging to music in his earbuds.

  whispers could be heard, and then someone threw a plasma grenade into the torpedo room. He ran as fast as possible and slid into the grenade but the grenade never exploded as he kicked it back at the enemies.

  A loud explosion echoed from down the hall, and about a dozen screams filled the room. Youvon pulled out his Blaster. Both of them hid behind the workbench. Four enemies came into the room. Brinus double-tapped two of the enemies in the chest, and Youvon popped the third and fourth enemy in between the eyes.

  A fifth enemy soldier threw his arms into the air. “I surrender!”

  Brinus’s hand shook as he grabbed the enemy officer and zip-tied him to the bulkhead. He then took a moment to reflect. Brinus leaned against the blasted wall just inside the torpedo room. Smoke filled with smoke, and the bodies were cooling as the smell of melton plastic and fried pork filled the room. His ears rang from the grenade.

  Youvon muttered as he rose from the workbench. Brinus glanced down at his own blaster pistol, which was still hot.

  he thought.

  He looked at the gold-trimmed officer he zip-tied to a bulkhead. The officer glared at him with pure hatred in his eyes. Brinus shot his screw-you back at him. He was still trying to figure out why he didn’t freeze.

  His lungs burned as he took a cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth. but his hands shook too much to light it.

  Youvon snorted behind him and lit the cig for him.

  “You gonna cry, convict?” he said this like he was unsure of what to say.

  Brinus took a deep drag, tilted his head back, and blew it out slowly.

  “Nah, just realizin’ somethin’. Maybe I ain’t what I thought I was.”

  “Huh. You mean... like a real soldier now?”

  Brinus didn't answer. He watched the prisoner shoot death glares at him and cuss under his breath. He should feel proud, angry, or really anything. Instead, he just felt hollow. His first taste of combat tasted like sour watermelons from Canzoli Prime, bitter and like spoiled fruit.

  He noticed a gold star-fighter pin on his stand-up collar and four gold rings on his uniform’s sleeves.

  “Stinkball! Secure the prisoner and watch the door!”

  Over the next 20 minutes, Brinus had his back to the wall with the prisoner next to him as he stood guard at the door. He was getting progressively more antsy and fidgety. He pulled out a cigarette and said, “I am goin’ to the bathroom to interrogate the prisoner. I’ll be back.”

  Youvon said, “Sure, be back before I leave cuz I won’t wait for you.”

  He went into the bathroom and lit it. He took a deep drag and exhaled slowly, enjoying the taste of the flavors and the sensation of smoke in his throat. The prisoner was handcuffed across from him in the torpedo room’s men’s restroom.

  The prisoner just looked at him. The commander laughed to himself while staring at Brinus.

  “What?”

  He scoffed. “You were a pirate?”

  Brinus smiled. “Not quite. I was in the Orin Syndicate and got busted fer a licensed hired burglary cuz I purposely botched it so I could get arrested.”

  The man laughed.

  “What?”

  The commander scoffed with contempt in his voice. “In the Federation Navy, we don’t let smokers or addicts join the military or allow people with felonies or certain misdemeanors in, yet somehow, with every advantage, you guys still handed us an ass whooping.”

  Brinus took a drag and blew the smoke into the officer’s face. He hopped to provoke a response. “Maybe that’s why ya’ lost? Your arrogance.”

  “You guys are so smug, aren’t you? You have no idea the power of the Federation Navy.”

  Brinus laughed, showing his teeth in his classic screw-you smile. “I don’t know about either navies. I’ve only been ’n the Confederate Navy fer two weeks. Tell me. Who won this here battle again? Was it on your side? No? Didn’t think so.” He blew another cloud of smoke into the commander’s face.

  The commander coughed angrily, “I think I told you enough. When will you be finished?”

  “In about 10 minutes. I need a couple of cigarettes.” Brinus smirked and jumped onto the toilet. The cigarette dangled from his mouth as he took a drag and blew more smoke into the commander’s face. “I figure we can spend a little time together gettin’ to know each other, commander.”

  “What? How....”

  Brinus laughed in a mocking tone. “I know you’re a lieutenant commander in the Federation Navy cuz uh the markin’s on you’re sleeves. I also know you’re the carrier’s flight officer cuz of the emblem on your collar. The others don’t know cuz they ain’t got much combat experience.” He folded his arms and laughed maniacally.

  The commander had an open mouth and wide eyes.

  “So what’s life like in the Federation right now? I heard it’s tough.”

  Al Jex sat against the wall in military posture and yelled out, “My name is Colberet Al Jex! My service number is two-five-six-eight-three-zero. I am a Lieutenant Commander in the Federation Navy!”

  Brinus laughed hysterically for a moment and then said, “Why are you loyal to the Feds? Your government doesn’t take care of its own citizens! If I was in the federation, I would be in prison for the rest of my life!”

  He yelled even louder, “My name is Colberet Al Jex. My service number is two-five-six-eight-three-zero.”

  Brinus furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes in disgust. He smoked in silence and continued his Asian squat over the toilet. The bathroom looked like a roadside fuel station bathroom, which was cleaned once a week and smelled like urine and burnt metal. Brinus sighed in frustration and muttered cuss words under his breath.

  Brinus threw his cigarette butt in the toilet and lit another one. “You’re lucky I ain’t a criminal no more.”

  The commander scoffed and looked off to the side. “Criminals don’t belong in the service.”

  After returning to the torpedo room, two men stood with their backs to the wall, faced the door, and looked alert. One of the men looked at Brinus. They were loading the explosives onto a cart.

  Youvon looked up from his torpedo and snapped, “What took so long?”

  Brinus pushed Al Jex forward and forced him to sit. “Y’all don’t notice nuthin’ about this here prisoner? I was tryin’ to interrogate him.”

  Youvon rolled his eyes and sneered. “We are about to leave. CO2 levels are getting high. Leave the prisoner.”

  Brinus shrugged. “No. Bringing him with us will tickle the admiral’s tool.”

  “Whatever, just help us load these munitions. If you think the admiral will be interested in him, it is good enough for me.”

  Leaving the ship, he helped the men load the torpedoes, missiles, percussion caps, and fuse types on four carts and then activated the transporter on the control panel using Federation codes.

  The commander and the other two looked surprised. “How did you know the transporter codes?”

  Brinus chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know, commander?” he flashed his screw-you smile at the enemy commander. He looked at the other two men with a more severe expression. “I sent the weapons an’ fuses to the hangar bay where the shuttle-craft are. We gotta get outta here. Carbon monoxide levels are near dangerous levels. Ten minutes, and we’ll start having symptoms, and carbon dioxide levels are at 700 ppm.”

  The men made their way to the hangar with the prisoner. Everyone was gathered around two shuttlecraft. Half of the salvaging teams were lost in ambushes. The commanding officer was lost; therefore, one of the two acting lieutenants addressed Brinus. Other groups took dozens of prisoners.

  The lieutenant went up to Brinus. “Who’s the prisoner?”

  He puffed out his chest and smiled. “Lieutenant Commander Colbert Al Jex; he’s the carrier’s flight officer.”

  The acting lieutenant looked at Brinus and saw the four gold rings on his sleeve and the gold starfighter on his stand-up collar.

  The lieutenant smiled. “The admiral will be interested in him. Take him on the shuttlecraft. Nice work, Brinus.”

  “Just doin’ my job.”

  Brinus put the Lieutenant Commander onto the shuttlecraft. Two marines forced him into a seat and put restraints on him.

  After loading up the weapons, replicator parts, computer equipment, bridge data, and wounded from the various ambushes, the able-bodied went into the shuttles.

  As soon as Brinus exited the shuttle, he noticed a headache and felt dizzy; he felt more tired than usual after a battle and salvage and was covered in sweat and dirt. He also felt grimy from being in action for almost 15 hours. However, the Admiral and two marines were waiting for him.

  “Come with me; I need to talk to you,” ordered Admiral Nelson.

  Brinus saluted the admiral and then followed him to the ready room.

  They sat at their chairs, and Brinus took a glass of whisky and poured himself a triple shot. He then put two ice cubes in it. He did all of this without asking. Admiral Nelson sighed. “You didn’t ask Cadet or were offered. What I have to say is about your family. You aren’t who you think you are.”