My thoughts were quickly interrupted by a jab to the gut as my partner - Naris McEldry - softly said "That's our call, buddy. Let's go." Apparently, Dapin had called our crew's name, but had been drowned out by my thoughts. I sat up, as I did at every day's 'morning orders' assembly, and left the room to go board the S.S. Lonestar, the vessel Naris and I co-owned.

Now Naris is a great guy and all - and my only friend from Earth on the base - and he hopes to live each day to its fullest - but not being the smartest of people, he probably won't reach very far in life. That, I guess, is why he joined the Confederation naval academy anyway. He felt there was nothing left for him back on Earth...

Personally, I have always been attracted to space and the stars. When I was enlisted by the Confederation's draft, it wasn't too much of a disappointment. I was always bored of the repetition of the daily life back on Earth, I suppose, and some ten years ago, when I left home, I was immediately drafted into the navy academy.

We then walked down the hallway to slip 2D, where the S.S. Lonestar was moored. Coming upon the door to the slip, pressing the door's actuator, watching the huge titanium door raise up, listening to the repetitive 'clink clink clink' of the motor's belt, all seemingly average and normal morning actions - but again, I began to think - what if it was the last time I would ever hear the sounds and see the sights of the home station?

After entering the rear of the ship and into the cockpit, thoughts still in mind, and sitting down in the forepilot's seat, I suddenly noticed that Naris had never spoken of any family of his own...

It's not something important enough to dwell upon, and I certainly won't ever be the one to ask...

Now firmly in the comfortable grasp of the seat belt, Naris and I were both repeating launch commands for the umpteenth time and receiving orders from Launch Command back on the base.

"And initiate launch burn on my mark," said Naris, "in 3... 2... 1... mark." With the depression on one small, red button, the engines hummed and the noise grew louder and louder until the sound almost hurt my ears. The shaking of the vessel started softly, then grew harder until the violence of the vibration of the S.S. Lonestar was almost scary - I had been through this a thousand times over, but the initial takeoff from stardock always scared me - and I have no explanation why. The vessel began to move forward, ever so slowly, then gained speed as it exited the slip.

Soon, we were on our way to the Saxon quadrant.

Switching on the autopilot, I unbuckled the seat restraint and went in search of the instant coffeemaker. The S.S. Lonestar isn't the biggest of ships - it's only a Rapier converted for wartime service - but finding something in the mess of the cargo bay is hell.

Finally, finding it, I asked, "Coffee, Naris?"

"Naw. Had some at stardock."

"Alright. I went and sat down after making a pot, and poured myself a cup. Disengaging the autopilot, I quietly sipped at the hot, bland liquid. I've always hated the taste of instant coffee.

"Blah. Vacuum sealed coffee always tastes like shit - ever notice?" Mp> "Well, of course I have - that's why I drink my coffee back on base. They have the real stuff there, from real coffee grounds - not vacuum sealed crap. You should remember that tomorrow when we get assigned to our quadrant."

"I'll be sure to. Thanks." Naris didn't make for the most interesting of conversation, but it was conversation nonetheless. I don't understand the pilots who opt for making their morning runs on the lone. That must be the most lonely - not to mention boring - time of a person's life. Naris then proceeded to go to the back. Thinking nothing of it, I heard his footsteps on the cold, dry metal flooring and suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of my head - reaching up, I felt a large pool of blood and a large gash in my head. My best friend had just betrayed me for no apparent reason...

Damn...

As I opened my eyes, I was assaulted by bright light coming from all around. As my eyes adjusted to the light in the room, I noticed the familiar sight of the infirmary ward. It would appear that I was back on stardock. Looking around, I noticed a heart monitor and a capacitor board to my left, to my right was a small table with what seemed to be surgical tools, and two doors - one to my left, one to my right. After about five minutes laying in bed, adjusting to the room's features, a nurse entered the room through the door and turned to check my charts, which were clipped to the foot of my bed.

In a shaky and unstable voice, I tried to speak. "N... nurse?" Her head jerked up, as though startled, and a puzzled and almost scared look came across her face. She stood up to her full height and took a step back, and hurriedly - almost in a run - exited the room from the door she entered from.

About a minute later, a doctor and the same nurse burst into the room. Their breathing was heavy, as if just coming out of a run.

"I came as quickly as I could, Mr..." he looked at the charts at the footboard, "Quinlan. You know, you shouldn't be alive, and frankly, I'm surprised that you are." He looks at the nurse, who is shaking almost violently.

"Why? What happened?" I asked the doctor.

"We found you drifting through the area just around Confederation Starbase #264. You had a nasty laceration in the rear of your scalpal area - do you remember anything about what happened?" Trying to remember the events, you come up empty.

"Damn... No..." you reply. The doctor goes on.

"They haven't been able to track down your vessel or your co-pilot. Your ship is assumed destroyed and Mr. McEldry presumed dead by the Confederation headquarters on Earth - condolences have already been hypermailed to the families back on Earth," the doctor explained. "You should be out of the ward in the next few days, though. But right now you should sleep, alright?" They both left me to sleep, which I did - gladly.

Over the period of the next five days - things stay pretty routine around the ward - your wounds heal, and on the sixth day there, you are put into swingbed, from which you are immediately discharged. You find yourself back on the active list in the Navy, but now flying solo missions escorting freight and transports. Now that I'm back in the fleet, I have mixed feelings - confusion, loyalty, loneliness. Confused because of the disappearance of Naris, loyal to the fleet Navy, and loneliness from flying solo - solo runs are the most boring missions I've ever encountered. Never has space seemed so hopeless and desolate. It's not as bad, though, as I have a bulk freighter or other transport right by my side often, though.

My new vessel is one of Terran Naval's new patrol ships. Quarters are quite cramped, and they don't handle nearly as well as the S.S. Lonestar - but its a ship nevertheless.

The morning of September 11, 2052 will stick in my mind forever. It started off normal as any, with the assembly of assignments. Crew after crew exited the auditorium building, until only I was left. I thought it extremely odd that I be the last to leave, as I was one of the Navy's top pilots - but then Dapin called me into his office. I walked up the aisle to the large metal door, which opened as I strolled up slowly. I walked inside and the door slid shut behind me with a loud 'shashunk.' Dapin then began to speak.

"Quinlan. I understand you were recently put into the ward?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you feeling alright now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Feeling well enough to go on a top-secret pirate raid?" Now this question scared me - I didn't know what to make of it. I felt apprehension and elation at the same time - and my stomach twisted into knots. I gulped.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. There is a new bad boy in town by the callsign only of 'Lonestar.' He popped up about a week ago, and has raided freighters in the Kamfor system. We need you to escort a pseudo-transport ship into the Kamfor system - and take him out when it goes after the freighter.

"Yes, sir. I'll get right on it."

"Your vessel is being custom upgraded right now with the latest in communications, radar, weaponry, and propulsion systems as we speak. It should be much more battleworthy when you fly it next. We fly the birds in three hours. Be suited up and to the slip by noon."

"Yes, sir." You exit the office and are on your way. Thoughts are racing through my mind: is it Naris that has been raiding vessels? I guess I'll find out at noon...

After getting my inertial suit on, I went down to the slip my new ship is moored up in. There are still techbots working on updating it, and you think to yourself that this must be some good upgrading they're doing with it.

After I went through the launch commands and take off from the dock, I noticed an immediate improvement in the handling of the vessel - spins, rolls, turns - all much more responsive and advanced. A weapons test; I fired the primary laser cannons - which have been updated to Mk. III's instead of the stock Mk. I's. Much more powerful. A small asteroid reduced to frap in a matter of seconds. Setting hyperspace coordinated, I set en route to the Kamfor system. With multiple leaps through bypassed systems, I finally jumped into the Kamfor system, with the huge bulk freighter 'Narcissius' looming over my vessel. Almost immediately the 'Lonestar' began firing upon the 'Narcissius,' and I was right on the firefight. The freighter had been updated with larger shield generators and heavier armor, so the freighter crew had nothing to worry about. Hailing the 'Lonestar,' I recognized the voice on the other end. My fears confirmed:

Naris.

"What the hell do you want, Confederate scum?" the voice screamed.

"Naris? What the hell are you doing?"

"Quinlan? You're not dead?"

"No."

"Time to finish the job." I stared down at the gauges and at the targeting radar screen, and as it came withing initialization distance, I realized that he was piloting the S.S. Lonestar - my pride and joy. How could he...

"Die, bastard!" he yelled into the mouthpiece as he made his first strafe, coming dangerously close to taking off my right wing - and the S.S. Lonestar's underbelly. I turned around, firing the blasters in the general vicinity of where he went, and saw him incoming for another try. This time firing the plasma disruptors we had recently installed onto it, he came straight in and over the top of me. I felt my vessel spin out of control, and looked to my left - gone. All of the life support systems and thrust propulsion had been taken out by one fell swoop, and I knew my chances of living were slim. He had hit my vessel almost head on. Turning my vessel around, I could see flame spewing out of the S.S. Lonestar, as it, too, spun out of control in the distance. Naris was a good pilot, though, and I knew he would bring it out of the flat spin. Just as I thought, he did, and charged forward again. This time coming straight for my vessel, he came faster and faster as he had the afterburner engaged. He came into visual range, and the ball of flame, still half intact, hurtled toward my vessel. Larger and larger it grew, and it soon came within 400 yards of my ship.

300.

200.

100 yards and closing. I panicked and slammed on the escape pod button. The bright red button glowed brightly, and belts whirred, motors ran, latches clicked open, and in the complicated works, something jammed. God dammit, something jammed. I looked up, and my disabled ship sat there, stricken. The S.S. Lonestar must have been within thirty yards now, and coming fast. Again I futily slammed my palm against the ejection button, to no use. I could now see Naris through the window, and it suddenly struck me that I was going to die - that there was nothing I could do but accept that. I sat back against the warm bucket seat, I somehow found a comedy to what was going on and a smile crossed my face. I looked out the window into the cold intergalactic terrain, and somehow my eyes found the S.S. Lonestar, hurtling towards me. Naris was inside, and I stared into his cold eyes: and I knew there was absolutely nothing there. An insane grin was on his lips and an unusual darkness and sorrow was about him. I again looked down at the ejection mechanism and became very angry - not at Naris, not at life - but at the Confederation. Then Naris' and my own hulls' collided, titanium and steel gnarling and fusing until I could feel the pressure of the dash against my chest as my ribs cracked and my insided compressed. And again, I found myself looking down at the mechanism, and thought of all the credits they had spent on the lasers, the shields, the engine. The one thing they overlooked, the ejection seat - what I needed so desperately right now, failed. The pressure became too great for my chest to bear, and it folded in on itself. A darkness overcame me, but it wasn't unpleasant - it was rather peaceful. But the escape pod...

Damn the Confederation...