No Man's Space 1: Starship Encounter Read Free

chest to cover the blood and placed his gun in his right hand. His gray hair had stains of blood in it. He’d probably fought until his last breath, even after ordering his men to poison everyone aboard the ship.
    It had been his last, desperate move.
    I muttered a few words of farewell. I never thought I’d take death so ritualistically, but I admired the officers for their bravery. I would’ve let the men fight for longer. It would’ve made us die even more slowly and painfully.
    “He won’t hear you,” Flanagan said insensitively. He didn’t crouch beside anyone or pay his respects to the dead. Instead, he kept his electric gun in his hand and picked a couple extra guns in case he needed them. “We must secure the ship, sir. Don’t know if we’ve got more Cassocks around or if they’ll shoot us.”
    Flanagan waved his hand in the air to turn on the sensors. They showed five enemy frigates surrounding us. The captain’s logs mentioned three ships. The other two must’ve remained cloaked.
    The North Star, a modern ship of the line, could fight against one frigate, maybe two if we were lucky. But outmanned and outgunned? We had no chances against five enemy ships. I’m not exaggerating; this is well beyond any crew’s limitations. Some men claim that a task is impossible to make it even more impressive once they achieve it. Fighting five frigates fairly was beyond anyone’s skills.
    Wait. Who’s said anything about fairly?
    The enemy had approached us in the middle of the night, when most of our crew had been asleep. I know there aren’t any nights in space, but modern ships stick to Earth times to simulate days and nights. Earlier models tried keeping on the lights continuously, but it made the men restless and messed up their biological clocks.
    The case is: we were attacked at night, the enemy had sneakily dodged our sensors, and they’d killed our men without giving them a chance to fight back. Why did we have to play fair?
    What do you mean the right thing to do ?
    A gentleman might play nice with his enemies. Officers are supposed to be gentlemen, but I’ve already told you: I’m an engineer. I lack the manners or the impulse to act nice. Those damned Cassocks had killed everyone aboard my ship, and they were going to pay.
    “Beat to quarters, Flanagan,” I said. I stood back up and noticed the blood stains on my knees and shoes. I hadn’t even noticed the blood before, but the men must’ve fought hard before falling to the poison. It was still warm.
    Flanagan stared at the badge on the left side of my chest: a white anchor over the silhouette of a spaceship heading out into space. Silver laurels circled my badge, marking me as a lieutenant in the Engineering Corps.
    Engineers weren’t supposed to lead men into battle, but what did he want me to do? Wait until the Cassocks noticed that their own men were dead? They’d destroy our ship before we could even run. The core explosion had probably disabled our engines.
    “Sir?” Flanagan said. He was trying not to sound insubordinate, but every single cell in his body tried to make him contradict my orders. He didn’t consider me capable of leading in battle. But how can a man of the sea openly doubt his officer’s skills? He doesn’t; he shuts up and follows orders. Flanagan was a vet; he knew how things worked when you ended up with an incapable officer.
    Luckily for both of us, I was open to suggestions. I wasn’t going to tell him yet, though. First I needed to make the chain of command clear before everyone.
    “You’ve heard me, man,” I said. “Beat to quarters and get an updated headcount. I’m in charge unless you raise one of the officers from the dead.”
    Flanagan bit the inside of his mouth and his weathered face tensed. He was measuring me and considering punching my nose and getting rid of me before I caused any trouble. But we were outnumbered and unlikely to survive; what difference would losing yet another officer make?