by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
Salak’s ruthless reputation for dealing with those who disappointed him proved to work in his favor this day. The Stasis had suffered the brunt of the Shikkeron’s wrath, with three ships destroyed and four others crippled. Still, few of the Stasis captains dared withdraw from following Salak’s commands. Only three of the two-dozen or so remaining Stasis ships pulled away from Salak’s armada, those being from more distant and wild colonies. The others grudgingly fell in line and joined the Pseudes in hot pursuit.
After Salak screamed his threats and scathing denunciations at the fleeing pirates, he turned his attention back to the retreating Shikkeron, sending a message to the remaining ships to ‘let go all fighters’. After shouting “Prepare the scullers!” he commented to Namir, “If our people are still alive, they’ll have that hulk down in short order. As soon as the fighters are off, order the armada back up to speed. Report to me when we’re close!” Salak headed back to his captain’s lounge, hands clasped behind his back, whistling a merry little tune.