I used to write science fiction all the time when I was younger and entertained thoughts of being a professional writer. I even have two or three short stories and one 80,000+ word novella from my attempts, the stories of which I still enjoy. As these things happen, life had other plans and that never panned out as I had hoped. Always meant to come back to it though. I still might.
What I have noticed though, looking over the following few paragraphs, is that it has been some time since I've tried to seriously write any kind of science fiction and I should apologize in advance for what follows. So.... Sorry.
Hope you enjoy regardless!
Where Wolves Roam
It was silent. A sleek silver spike glided through the dark, a faint orange glow its only outward sign to the universe. It spotted her then, in the distance, and went soaring after her. Traces of light leapt towards it and it glided nimbly around them, dancing with them, flying ever onward. Its moves became more frantic, more urgent, like it knew the cresendo was fast approaching and its moment would be forever lost. The light struggled in vain to keep pace. Finally, then, it found her and erupted in a flash of bright light dominating everything for the briefest of moments and then, like the sudden fall after a climax, it was gone. In its wake tumbled its one true love, confused, frightened, alone... and, once more, all was silent.
This is it, Captain Rourke thought, eyes tracking the missile on the tactical display as it passed through the hail of point defence laser fire. The explosion shook the ship and jolted the elderly captain, the safety straps of his chair cutting deep into his shoulders. He winced through the pain and then, mercifully, passed out. When he finally came around the command room was dark, lights flickering on and off with the smell of blood and death strong in the air. Pressing the release button he pulled himself up to survey the damage. Two of the command crew were clearly dead, the others hardly looked better. Even if the computer terminals were still functional they could hardly tell him more than he already knew; the ship was dead in space, the crew injured or worse and his pursuers were moving in to board his ship. His heart pumped and his mind raced to catch up. He had only been in one boarding action before and it had not been pleasant. A junior quartermaster aboard a patrol vessel in the Varlok system, he had been part of the prize crew who had commandeered the ship and taken her to the nearest port, a journey of only a few days. It had been a nerve-wracking experience and one he had no intention of repeating, especially not on the losing side. He felt the grip of the pistol strapped to his hip. It wasn't as comforting as he'd hoped.
The command centre was built to protect against being boarded; it was small, spherical and its only access point was protected by blast doors. There were two maintenance shafts that could be accessed, but finding them and getting through them would take some time. He could hole up here, destroy, disable or otherwise wreck the electronics, then put a bullet through his brain to destroy the command codes. He licked his lips, it was not a terribly attractive option. The engine room maybe? Even if he got it to move though it'd be unlikely he'd be able to outrun that damned frigate. There was a shuttle in the hangar, though that wouldn't get very far. Surrender? He turned that option over in his mind. Maybe. Although, he'd been paid to deliver those two to Corvus III and they could still be alive... He swore and opened the hatch to the maintenance shaft that led to the lower decks. He took one last, long look at the ruined command centre and shut the hatch behind him. If he was lucky, he'd be down to the passenger rooms to make sure they were dead and be back up here to surrender the ship before the marines came aboard, or at least before they breached the blast doors.
He pressed forward into the darkness of the maintenance tube. At least, he hoped it was going to be that simple.