Page 4 of Stripped By the Alien

A soft alert draws my attention back to the unknown ship. It's changed its heading. Only slightly, but enough. It's facing me now.

"Lucius, tell me if anything else changes."

"Captain, the minefield has changed." A cluster of contacts near the edge is moving. Three objects have detached and are accelerating, others following.

Minefields wait for victims to make mistakes. They don't abandon position and give chase. But every update puts the moving contacts closer to us than before.

"Lucius, are you seeing this?"

"I am." His light goes pink: possible danger.

I disconnect the autopilot and take the controls. "Give me options."

His light turns light red. "There are no good options at this point."

Stars wheel across the canopy as I roll away. The pursuing contacts correct their trajectories almost at once, too smooth to be a fixed route. Something's reacting to me in real time. The nearest one accelerates, then accelerates again, its closing speed jumping past anything I'd expect from a defensive mine.

"What the hell are these things?"

"These appear to be active mines. They're not waiting. They're hunting." For once, Lucius sounds genuinely concerned, and his light has turned a darker red.

Beyond the field, the other spaceship keeps adjusting its own position to match every course change I make.

Another alarm. One pursuing contact has separated from the rest. It's dark, angular, far more complex than a conventional mine. And it's learning, correcting its heading a beat after every turn I make. I watch the pattern repeat four times before I accept it: this isn't a drifting explosive. Something is actively tracking me, and it's closing.

My only advantage is that Intrepid 21 is smaller than whatever intelligence built this minefield expected. I pull into a hard turn and dive deeper into the field.

"I strongly advise against entering a region occupied by additional mines," Lucius says, his light gone stoplight red.

"I appreciate the advice," I say between clenched teeth.

"And yet you're ignoring it."

"I'm the pilot." I thread between clusters of dormant objects, sweat gathering under my collar, eyes jumping between canopy and sensors. For a while it seems to work, and the gap stops closing. But the field only gets denser the deeper I go, new contacts appearing faster than the computer can categorize them.

The hunting mine keeps following, unhurried, certain, as if the outcome's already decided and only the timing's left to settle.

A proximity alarm screams. A massive contact fills the forward canopy. I wrench the controls sideways and throw the ship into the sharpest turn it can manage. It almost works. The rear clips the stationary mine as we pass.

The impact slams me against the restraints hard enough to drive the breath from my lungs. Metal shrieks. Every display floods red. A camera feed shows flame pouring from the damaged engine section, the exposed structure glowing white-hot while suppression systems struggle to contain it.

Visible fire means oxygen. My oxygen, leaking out fast.

"Lucius?"

He takes a second before replying. "Multiple propulsion systems have failed. Our ship is no longer capable of sustained acceleration."

Before I can think past it, the pursuing mine detonates nearby. The explosion blooms off the port side in a burst of blinding light. The ship lurches sideways. Every display flickers. A panel near my feet bursts apart, spraying sparks across the floor. Something hits my head and my chest.

I grip the controls. Nothing. I try the thrusters. Nothing.

"Lucius, talk to me!"

The drone takes a second to reply. "We have lost propulsion and steering. The ship is breaking up. The main drive is overheating from coolant loss. And you are seriously injured, Captain."

Outside, the stars begin a slow rotation. Intrepid 21 is tumbling, and there's nothing left under my control.

"We'll have to eject." I grab the metal hoop, black with yellow stripes, and yank.