Chapter One

25 BETAR 10328
26:10

His target moves closer, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows of
Handari's smallest moon. Sowel enjoys this part of the job even more than the idea
of the additional mark on his record. He rubs his prickly jaw as he watches the
screen at his command chair. Mentally estimating the time before the space faring
yacht will be in range of his ships weapons fire.
"Forty-five seconds to weapons range Sir!" Traldon moves closer to the
technician as he speaks, he crosses his hands behind his back.
Sowel once liked Traldon, it is the reason he spent many years grooming him to
be his second in command. Laughter threatens to escape his lips as he recalls the
young and ruthless boy Traldon once was. The smooth talking gutter snipe almost
lifted Sowels entire months earnings and he might have succeeded if he hadnt
chosen a master thief as his target. Over forty years now since he took the lanky
boy on as his protg. Traldon has his own familial pupil under his wing these days.
He grinds his teeth as he watches the boy across the bridge. Young and
impulsive, Simon is anything but his uncle. One rarely to volunteers themselves into
line of work. Sane individuals dont get into piracy in this quadrant of space with the
Denuitian government assuring a quick death when they caught up to you. Such
intolerances for piracy leave a mercenary captain no choice but to commandeer

vessels, conscripting the crew into their service for their very lives, some of his own
crew came from such measures. Some conscripted many years before by other
captains, others are products of his own exploits.
Individuals conscripted into service rarely live to leave the line of work. Those
who survive are left little choice for alternative employment, any individual known
to participate in pirating of any sort are given one sentenceexecution. Denuitians
might seem far better dictators than the Trell of many generations before, only to
the naive and illiterate, their tight grip on the industry and commerce around them
rivals even the great dictating countries of the planet most human bloodlines
originated from eons ago.
Sowel trusts few of the conscript personnel aboard his ship. Traldon has become
more like a son than a protg even with the rebellious stages; recently this makes
him more of a wayward son. Travis, his Field Ops Commander, is swift, efficient and
utterly ruthless. Sowel can always trust him to get the job done.
Capable as Traldon is, Sowel will never admit he trusts Travis over him, his
temper is as fierce as the electrical storms of New Ebony. It is that same temper
that lands the young Simon in their laps. And even with the success Sowel had in
taming Traldons temper, the boys temper is far beyond that of his uncle.
"The Barra IV is nearly within range sir!" Traldon turns to face him.
Sowel raises his brow as he slants his head in Simons direction. Traldon flinches
as he smiles his crooked smile. "Charge the Pulse Cannons." A foul grin spreads
across Sowel's face to match his second in command.

"Charging Pulse Cannons, Sir!" Traldon towers over the young technician as he
examines his work.
"Travis is in position to intercept Sir." His communications officers stern voice
echoes through the command deck as he speaks.
The Barra IV will be inert by the time Tavis' boarding team reaches the docking
bay. Sowel leans back in his seat with his hands loosely in his lap. Their mark can't
pose much of a threat even with a security detail. Thirty of Sowel's best trained men
will easily dispatch the ten reported to be on guard. He has no objection to
snatching a thirteen year old boy and hauling him off to the bosses, they'll take care
of him personally.
"Fifteen seconds to Pulse Cannon range Sir." Traldon glances in his direction
briefly before he resumes his countdown.
"The Barra is in range." Traldon turns his head, Sowel notes his eyes as they drift
toward Simon.
"Fire when ready." Sowel moves forward, bracing his hands on his knobby knees.
"Fire!" Traldon leans against the weapons console as he gives the order.
The four Pulse Cannons fire, each meet their mark in succession. "Travis is
closing in Sir!"
"Good." Sowel sets his timepiece, Travis is known for his speed. They will have
the boy in hand soon enough.