Logbook entry

Episode 112, Prisoner Transport

Android security lined the aft corridor of the Type-9 freighter, their carbines and electrified batons at the ready. The freighter’s thrusters, destroyed by pack-hound missiles, had left the vessel adrift, its attacker now latched onto the rear hatch. In the confined quarters of a ship, powerful ranged weapons posed as much risk to their users as to the enemy, making close-quarters combat inevitable. It was astronomically rare, but not unheard of, for a prison ship to be hijacked. As the outer and inner hatches were breached, the androids braced for engagement. When the inner hatch opened, a pair of small spheres bounced down the corridor toward them. The first released a thick cloud of smoke—useless against the androids’ heat vision. The second, however, detonated in a burst of blinding light, momentarily overloading their optical sensors. Following their programming, the androids fired in the directions their carbines were aimed, blind to the corridor’s sudden transformation into a chaotic battlefield. The smoke lingered as the flare’s blinding effect dissipated. Their vision systems recalibrated, but it was already too late. A shadow moved swiftly through the haze, its form masked by a heat-dampening cloak. The androids’ processors barely registered the threat before it was among them, weapons erupting again as they targeted the intruder. The charging android exploded in a blinding flash, tearing through the ranks of security bots. Shrapnel and scorched plating littered the corridor as the remaining defenders recalibrated, their numbers thinned by the devastating blast. Ryuko nodded to a second figure, who darted past him and down the ravaged corridor. The androids had been neutralized, the bulkheads scorched and pocked by the wreckage of their once-guardians. Ryuko stepped into the corridor, his gaze sweeping over the aftermath. More of his team followed, securing the deck with practiced precision. “The stasis pods are on the deck below,” Tara stated, her voice calm and steady as she and Ryuko moved forward, weapons held at the ready. They stepped carefully around the shattered remains of the security droids. The deck shuddered as a particle beam sliced through the entrance hatch to the bridge, the metal slab falling to the deck plating with a resounding thud. The commander inside started, his hand flying to the laser pistol at his side. He fired at the nearest intruder, a hulking battle droid that moved through the opening with mechanical precision. The droid caught the barrel of the weapon in its powered grip, crushing it with a shriek of metal. The commander stumbled back, releasing the now-useless weapon, his heart pounding as the massive form loomed over him. It halted a heavy, metallic voice echoing from deep within its chassis. “Ship’s commander is secured... your orders?” Ryuko’s voice crackled through the droid’s comms. “Have the commander instruct his crew to surrender.” The commander’s eyes darted between the battle droid and the wreckage of his bridge. There was no need for further threats—the droid would kill him if he hesitated, and he wasn’t about to die for a low-paying prisoner-hauling contract. He walked slowly to his command chair, swallowing hard as he reached for the ship’s announcement system. The whole affair—from raiding the ship to capturing the human crew and reviving the prisoners—had taken an hour. An eternity by space piracy standards. It was long past time to leave as Ryuko waved goodbye to the inmates from the rear airlock of the Type-9 freighter. He stepped back aboard his Python Mk II, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He would’ve liked to stay longer, perhaps help with the repairs, but the hunting was too good, and the Coterie were having a grand time interdicting and disabling countless other prisoner transports bound for the massive detention capital ship, Alpha. The vessel housed all manner of prisoners—criminal and political—from across the Pegasi sector. Alpha was operated by the Independent Detention Foundation, an entity unaffiliated with any faction, major or minor. They served all, for a fee, caring little about the prisoners’ circumstances as long as the incarcerating party paid up. To maintain their declared neutrality, Alpha never lingered in one place, constantly moving between systems to avoid drawing attention or attacks. Ryuko had waited patiently for Alpha to enter an uninhabited system where he could jam their communications and isolate the transport convoys without interference from local forces. The result had been a series of well-coordinated strikes that had left the detention ships adrift, their intended cargo—defeated warriors from the recent skirmishes in Tjakiri—freed. He knew attacking Alpha directly would be suicide without bringing in his fleet carrier and risking catastrophic losses. But intercepting prisoner transports, disabling them, and handing the ships over to the newly freed inmates? That was poetic justice. Representatives from every minor faction had been among the prisoners. Their return to their respective groups—once they repaired their newfound ships—would cause chaos. “A fitting tribute,” he thought, as he watched the newly liberated prisoners work together, their disparate allegiances temporarily set aside. Once they rejoined their factions, each would carry tales of the intervention. It would stir the pot, no doubt—unleashing a wave of confusion and retribution across the sector. Ryuko settled into the cockpit of his Python Mk II, his fingers dancing over the controls. The Coterie ships flashed past him, returning to their positions. Soon, he would call them back to the carrier, and disappear into the black, leaving chaos in his wake. “A fitting tribute indeed,” Tara murmured, her gaze narrowing, lingering on Ryuko.