I'd positioned our exit point far enough to assess the tactical situation before committing, yet close enough to retain the element of surprise.

  The Mahkkra had a combat reentry mode. A messy feature that could slam shields online milliseconds before dropping to realspace. It was brutal on the ship's frame. Micro-fractures accumulated with every use. But the quantum singularity reactor had power to burn. Enough to keep the FTL drive hot while energizing weapons and shields simultaneously.

  Time to use every advantage I’ve got. I’m not going to perform a normal re-entry without shields. That would be suicide. Plus, most ships can’t do it. Shields and warped space don’t play well together. Those pirates are never going to see it coming.

  The transition to sublight speed hit like a physical blow. It sounded like thunder erupting inside the ship, a sonic assault echoing through the confined space, instead of the usual subdued boom accompanying normal physics reasserting itself.

  My fingers dug into the controls. My stomach lurched into my throat, then the g-forces slammed it back down into my boots. Sweat beaded across my forehead as I forced my jaw shut against the wave of nausea. Don’t lose focus, Nico. You have trained for this. It's time to show it paid off.

  I took a breath. Held it. Then let it out slowly.

  Don’t screw this up.

  Five small vessels swarmed around a medium-sized ship like wasps. The pirate craft were an odd aggregation of mismatched components grafted onto salvaged frames, prioritizing engines and weapons over everything else. Their hulls displayed the telltale patchwork of scavenged parts: different metal alloys, varying states of corrosion, and inconsistent paint schemes.

  Pirates rarely invest in defensive systems or maneuverability. Their strategy typically revolves around overwhelming speed, numerical superiority, and concentrated firepower. They struck hard, grabbed what they could, and vanished before their prey could organize themselves or help could arrive. A prolonged engagement represents nothing but risk to their business model.

  Unfortunately for them, they hadn't anticipated the Mahkkra. And they hadn’t anticipated me.

  My neural port activated with a familiar electric tingle at the base of my skull. The boundary between flesh and machine dissolved. Sensor data flooded directly into my consciousness. My thoughts redirected power distribution, shunting additional energy to forward shields and the main particle laser while I deployed the riftlance. Diagnostic routines ran automatically in the background of my awareness. My consciousness extended through the ship's systems, adjusting thrust vectors.

  I wasn't just piloting the Mahkkra. I was the Mahkkra.

  A feral grin split my face. My breathing quickened, shallow and rapid. They were just starting to notice me, while I was already assessing the tactical data and settling on my first moves.

  Their comm chatter flooded my audio feed.

  "Whoa, we've got company!" The voice crackled with static and surprise.

  "Who's this guy? I don't recognize the ship's model." Uncertainty tinged with the first notes of concern.

  "Shut up and keep on the target while we take care of him." A deeper voice, presumably their leader.

  "One against five, this guy's suicidal." Followed by harsh, overconfident laughter.

  My eyebrows raised as I noticed they weren't even encrypting their communications. Noobs, you’re broadcasting tactical information on open channels. A tight smile spread across my face as my fingers drummed a rapid sequence on the weapons panel, cycling through targeting solutions. The muscles in my shoulders loosened slightly. What a bunch of amateurs. This is going to be easier than I thought.

  The tactical display projected their attack vectors in glowing red lines across my viewscreen. My pupils dilated as combat stimulants automatically released into my bloodstream through the neural port's secondary medical functions. The Mahkkra's engines hummed with increasing intensity as power redirected from non-essential systems, the vibration traveling through the deck plates and up through the soles of my boots.

  Four hostile vessels peeled away from their original target, accelerating toward me in staggered formation. The fifth continued its assault on the civilian ship. Sporadic energy pulses struck the Reizen's faltering shields. A tactical decision to prevent escape while dealing with the unexpected threat.

  My scanners showed they had missile pods, but none were launched. They probably want to save money. They’re confident they can take me down with lasers only. They’re in for a surprise.

  My high quality heavy lasers had a longer range than theirs. Another mistake. I aligned the lead pirate ship with my targeting reticle and fired. A ripple of color flared across his shields for a fraction of a second before they shattered into nothing. The laser beam, now unopposed, vaporized the ship's nose. Cockpit, pilot, and all. One down. My pulse hammered in my ears. Too easy. A thread of worry wound through my excitement. Were they this weak, or was I about to get overconfident?

  The communication channels erupted with panicked exclamations as the remaining pirates scattered in chaotic evasive patterns. My hand slammed the power distribution lever to maximum propulsion, rerouting energy from non-essential systems. The Mahkkra shot forward with crushing acceleration, pinning me against the command chair, ribs compressing, breath forced from my lungs in a grunt. Red beams of light cut the space I occupied a split fraction of a second earlier, missing me by only a few meters. Close. But that’s just another word for miss. My heart was racing from excitement, I had a wild grin on my face.

  "Damn, he's got some skills," crackled through the comm.

  "No, it's his ship. We should try to salvage as much of it when we've taken care of him." The voice carried unmistakable greed.

  Both its propulsion systems were marvels of experimental technologies. The main propulsion, the Quillon drive, was, at its core, a standard plasma drive, ejecting superheated plasma. But unlike conventional designs with their bulky exhaust nozzles, the Quillon created and shaped dimensional micro-tunnels to precisely guide plasma ejection. These quantum-stabilized conduits allowed real-time adjustments to plasma flow and direction, resulting in exceptional velocity while maintaining unprecedented directional control.

  Taking advantage of its high acceleration capabilities, the Mahkkra shot forward in what looked like erratic patterns but was just me dodging incoming shots. The pirates’ laser cannons were weak and had no chance of overloading my military-grade shields.

  Once I reached the middle of their formation, I took advantage of the Mahkkra’s secondary propulsion system. The anchorfield thrusters defied conventional physics in ways that still seemed fantastical despite my technical understanding. These specialized emitters created localized hardpoints in the spacetime field. Essentially temporary anchors against which the ship could push. I mostly used them to provide instantaneous vector changes impossible with traditional propulsion.

  I maxed out the inertial dampeners. This is going to hurt. I triggered the starboard anchorfield thruster, creating a single, immovable point in spacetime. For a split second, the Mahkkra pivoted on that anchor. It wasn't a turn; it was a lateral smash-cut. My muscles screamed as a phantom giant tried to crush my chest, the g-forces turning the air in my lungs to lead. But the maneuver worked. I was now perpendicular to their line, floating broadside to their exposed flanks.

  I triggered the riftlance. The jagged beam of pure darkness sliced through both like they were made of paper. Their hulls peeled open, atmosphere venting, then they bloomed. Twin fireballs expanding silently in the void.

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  Three down. My hands were trembling. Not from fear. The grin on my face felt manic. I’m actually doing this. I’m winning.

  The remaining ship of the interception force screamed on the comms.

  “What the frack! I’m outta here!”

  He was now behind me and instead of losing speed to start a turn and come back to me, he continued to gain speed, getting away from me.

  Oh no you don’t.

  I re-shaped the Quillon drive’s exhausts to perform a smooth U-turn and pushed the throttle to the maximum. As expected, the pirate’s ship, made of parts cobbled together as best as they could, did not have enough power to get away. I simply caught up to him and shot him from behind. The lasers reached his thrusters, triggering a cascade of explosions.

  I did it. Just like in the game and just like in the simulation. But it didn’t feel like the game. The g-force was real. The explosions were real. The crew, whoever they were, were dead. Because of me.

  I quickly shoved that thought aside. Not the right time for philosophical drama. Plus they’re pirates. They attacked an unarmed transport ship. This is justice. Or survival.

  I surveyed the scans and saw that the last remaining pirate was still there, still firing on the Reizen. His flight pattern showed that he was planning on using his prey as cover.

  Smart, but that won’t be enough.

  This time, I took my time to reach the Reizen. I did not want to leave an opening by coming in too fast. The other one stayed on the other side, hidden.

  Oh, so you wanna dance? Then let’s dance.

  I increased the thrust output while doing runs around the Reizen, like I was its satellite. The pirate followed, always staying on the opposite side. Once we got into a rhythm, I slowly started to widen the circle. He had to make a choice. Either widen the circle and match me or stay tight.

  Come on. Take the bait. Widen the circle. Get impatient.

  He stayed close to the Reizen in tight circles.

  Smart. Or Stubborn.

  I continued on the same trajectory, regularly widening the circle, but not too much, for a full minute.

  Fine. If you won’t break the pattern, I will.

  I made a direct one eighty. No ship was supposed to be able to maneuver like that and his tight trajectory made him see my maneuver too late. I aimed and shot.

  I was sure of my victory, but the pilot had exceptional reflexes and managed to veer to the side. My lasers grazed his hull. Shearing plating but missing any vital system.

  Shit. How did he dodge that? My teeth clenched. This one is good. A sliver of doubt crept in. What if I underestimated him? Am I the one being played?

  He dove toward the planet and I followed. His trajectory was erratic, using perfect avoidance patterns. When he was about to hit the atmosphere, he changed trajectory and went high. Atmospheric insertion has to follow a specific trajectory, making them easy to anticipate. Good move. I smiled. I was completely focused, my hands frenetically typing commands while I was doing micro adjustments to every system through the neural port.

  It was a stalemate, and I knew it. He had nowhere to go. The asteroid belts were too far, the planet behind us. But he was buying time, hoping I'd make a mistake. Let's see how you react when I close the gap. I bet you'll try to flip the pursuit.

  I smiled. The ship fed me tactical projections through the neural link, probability cones blooming in my mind's eye. I could see it: he'd brake-check me, try to force an overshoot. Classic.

  I suddenly increased the energy allocated to the propulsion. The ship bucked up. I felt the acceleration, barely kept to manageable levels by the dampeners. And the Mahkkra suddenly raced forward, closing the distance between us.

  When I closed to point-blank range where his evasive patterns meant nothing, he did exactly what I'd predicted. His ship's nose flared as he slammed reverse thrusters, trying to brake-check me into an overshoot. I knew it! I cut primary propulsion instantly. The pirate shot past me as my momentum carried me forward. In that same instant, I hit the port anchorfield thruster. The Mahkkra pivoted hard, its nose swinging around to face his now-exposed underbelly. It was a point-blank shot.The world went grey. Blood drained from my brain as the g-forces crushed down. My vision tunneled. But my finger was already on the trigger. The riftlance erupted.

  His ship split in two.

  Got you.

  All done. I slumped back in the command chair, my hands still trembling. My heart was hammering against my ribs. The last one made me work for it. I grinned, half-wild, half-relieved. That final duel had been real. Real danger. Real skill. And I'd won.

  The adrenaline was already starting to fade, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness and a strange, giddy pride. I did good.

  I sat there for a moment, staring at the debris field expanding slowly across my viewscreen. Twisted metal. The faint, dissipating clouds of vented atmosphere.

  And bodies.

  I couldn't see them. The scanner didn't show corpses. But I knew they were there. Floating in the wreckage. Five ships. Maybe a dozen people. Maybe more.

  Dead. Because of me.

  My stomach lurched. Not from g-forces this time. I swallowed hard, tasting bile at the back of my throat. My hands were still shaking, but now it wasn't adrenaline. I felt something tightening in my chest and found it to breathe.

  I killed them.

  In Life Among the Stars, I had destroyed thousands of pirate ships. Racked up an impressive kill count. Built a reputation. But those had been NPCs, with scripted behavior and no real consequences.

  This was different. These had been people. Real, breathing, thinking human beings. They'd had lives. Histories. Maybe even families waiting for them somewhere. And I killed them. I even took joy in it. That was perhaps the worst of it. The joy I had taken when shooting them down.

  I closed my eyes, but the image was still there: a ship splitting cleanly in two, the riftlance carving through it like scissors through paper.

  Oh God.

  My breath came faster, shallower. The cockpit suddenly felt too small, the air too thin. I gripped the edge of the console, knuckles white.

  What have I done?

  But then, slowly, another thought pushed its way through the rising panic.

  They were trying to kill me.

  I opened my eyes. Forced myself to look at the Reizen on the viewscreen. The transport, scarred with laser impacts, still broadcasting a desperate SOS.

  They were trying to kill them, too.

  The pirates had been firing on an unarmed civilian ship. They would have boarded it. Stolen the cargo. Maybe taken hostages. Maybe killed the crew anyway, just to eliminate witnesses.

  And if I hadn't been here?

  The Reizen would be dead in the water. Its crew would be dead. Or worse.

  I took a slow, deliberate breath. Then another.

  They shot first. They were pirates. They made their choice.

  I hadn't hunted them down for sport. I hadn't attacked without cause. They'd been in the middle of a crime, and I'd intervened. That was justice.

  The tightness in my chest eased, just a little.

  It's okay. It had to be done.

  I straightened in the chair, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension. My hands were still trembling slightly, but I could work with that.

  The people on the Reizen were still out there. Still in danger, maybe. Injured. Scared. Waiting for help.

  And I was the only help they had.

  I tried hailing the Reizen. No response. That’s concerning. They must have seen the battle. The ship was hanging in the void, apparently devoid of life. I could see several impacts from energy weapons on its hull. Damaged, but nothing critical. I scanned it. The interior was hidden. Privacy protections prevented me to see if anyone was alive, or the layout of its interior. But I could clearly detect that the cheatlight was destroyed.

  I keyed in the docking sequence and watched the autopilot guide the Mahkkra toward the Reizen's central airlock. My reflection stared back at me from the darkened section of the viewscreen: pale, sweat-streaked, eyes a little too wide.

  Focus, Nico. There's still work to do.

  I grabbed the starburst, attached the personal shield to my belt and checked its battery levels.

  Time to meet people. Real people. My heart was thudding again, but this time it wasn't from combat.

  What if they're hostile? What if they think I'm a pirate too?

  I checked the Starburst one more time, making sure the safety was off but the weapon was holstered. Visible, but not threatening.

  Hopefully.