"Cap, should we be in this sector? This are Imperial space."

  Captain Lero Rannek of the Hook Tooth Pirates leaned back in his captain's chair and smiled.

  "Sure, and do you know why we rob the Imperium? That's where the money are."

  Bracken, his Second, couldn't help but fret. His eyes compulsively ran across the console readouts, alert for any new energy signatures.

  "It's just... I've heard stories, neh?"

  "Listen, Bracken. How many good raids-- really good ones have we had this year?"

  "Well, yeah, it have been slim."

  "Bracken, I have got us the deal of the century. We do this raid, we get whatever we can walk off with, plus we get paid by these Bolt of Justice llandos." Rannek roared with laughter. "Who ever got paid for piracy, neh?"

  "Still, Imperial space..."

  Captain Rannek waved a hand carelessly at his Second.

  "The Bolt told us this sector's safe right now. And raiding Imperium space are the only requirement they laid. Raid inside the Imperium, bring back evidence, get paid." He shrugged. "I don't know why, but as long as the cash shows up, I don't care. Loot and cash. My two very favorite things."

  A shadow of a smile appeared on Bracken's face. It really had been tough lately. A good score would do a world of good for the men's morale.

  "Besides," Rannek continued, "if the Navy shows up, we'll just run. We're on the edge of Imperial space as it are. And the Bolt says the Navy are dealing with their own problems. Not nearly the bogeymen of tavern stories."

  Bracken shrugged uncomfortably.

  "The slaughter of the Stone Pirates weren't that long ago."

  "Captain Thion were an idiot, and lazy. He got comfortable stealing fighters instead of proper pirate work. He were predictable. It were only a matter of time before he were caught out."

  "Signature, Cap!" Bracken cried, his throat tightening. Captain Rannek leaned forward eagerly.

  "A cargo ship! Let's have a peek, neh?"

  Bracken, tight-lipped, nodded and ran the scans.

  "It are a Nomad-class vessel. Lots of cargo room. She's unarmed, Cap."

  Captain Rannek clicked on his console to open comms.

  "Hark, cargo vessel! This are Captain Rannek of the Hook Tooth Pirates. Your vessel, goods, and lives are mine now. I'll let you have two of the three back. You choose what two you want."

  There was a long silence.

  "Bracken, warm up the blasters." Rannek leaned forward and clicked comms again. "Cargo vessel, I say again: vessel, goods, lives. Choose now or I'll take all three."

  "Sir, they're powering down their engines," Bracken said.

  "Fast learners, neh?" Rannek smiled.

  The cargo vessel opened comms, and a woman's voice filled the small, dingy bridge.

  "Pirate vessel, this is Captain Decol of the Cloudsurfer, operated by Landsberg Shipping. We will not resist, but be advised that this Imperial space."

  Rannek grinned.

  "Be advised that I don't care," he replied. "Prepare to be boarded." He clicked off comms and smiled at his Second.

  "Bracken, you ever fly a Nomad-class cargo vessel?"

  "Always wanted to try, Cap." Bracken made a crude facsimile of a salute.

  "Grab the men. Get suited, armed, and loaded in the shuttles."

  Within twenty minutes, half a dozen shuttles drifted toward the hapless cargo ship while Captain Rannek kept his ship's blasters trained on the bridge. They landed in the docking bay.

  "Cargo ship Cloudsurfer, gather all crew in the docking bay. We'll keep you under eye, make sure nobody gets heroic." Rannek clicked over the Bracken's private channel. "Sweep the ship. I don't want any leftovers. And let me know what kind of cargo you find."

  Bracken acknowledged the commands and signed off. Rannek idly hoped that the crew of the Cloudsurfer would try something, just for the excitement.

  Alas, they were spineless company drones. They meekly gathered in the docking bay as instructed, surrounded by armed pirates.

  "Looks like foodstuffs, Captain," Bracken commed in. "Seafood, mostly. Manifest says it were aimed for some cruise line."

  "Well, we can eat it as well as any rich toff. It'll keep us fed for a bit. Don't know if we can sell it anywhere. Maybe we can trade, for some variety. Have the men clear out of the docking bay and patch me into the ship's intercom."

  "Yes sir, Cap."

  Once Bracken commed back that the men were clear, Captain Rannek opened a channel to the Cloudsurfer's intercom.

  "Attention, boring company people. Since you took so long to respond to my polite call, I've decided to take your cargo and your ship. But never fear, I will let you keep your lives, while you can."

  Captain Rannek's grin widened.

  "Bracken, if you find any trespassers on board my new ship, please toss them off."

  "Cap, I just found twenty-two trespassers in the docking bay."

  "Do your duty, Second."

  Over the comms came the thumping hiss of the docking bay doors opening, followed by muffled screams.

  Captain Rannek watched with glee as the spray of bodies was ejected from the ship.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "They look like little dots from way over here," he said. "Take note: I Christen my new ship 'Space Spray.' Bracken, you're Captain of that vessel now. We'll fit her with some guns when we find a friendly port."

  "Yes, Cap!" came the Second's voice back.

  "Oh, I'm no Captain any more. I've got two ships, so that makes a proper fleet now. Call me 'Admiral,' neh?"

  "Yes, Admiral Rannek!"

  "Let's go collect some cash, Captain Bracken!"

  The Hook Tooth fleet turned toward the exit jumphole that would lead them back to Techterra.

  "What are we doing out here?" Tazrika asked.

  "We're picking up some supplies," Krassik said.

  Tazrika looked around. There were three lizardmen, two thick, furry Ursine, and herself.

  "Lots of folks to pick up supplies," she noted.

  "Well, the folks we're picking them up from don't know we're doing it."

  "Aha."

  It was Tazrika's fourth mission with the Electroveil Collective. The only threat in her missions so far was terminal boredom.

  They drove down down the bright, sunlit streets of Techterra in a small utility truck. One of the Ursine drove, his bulky form comically crammed in the tiny cab. Krassik and Tazrika sat with him. The rest of the crew sat in the back of the truck. Seedy buildings flanked their advance.

  "Keep your eyes up," Krassik said. "We're in Riftborn territory now."

  "Who are they?" Tazrika asked.

  "You are new to Techterra, aren't you? They're the biggest Terran gang in the city. They were pushing us around since forever, but when the funding came through we started pushing back."

  "Funding?"

  Krassik started guiltily. The driver snorted a laugh.

  "Krassik can't keep his mouth shut again," the bear-like Ursine rumbled.

  "Ah, shut up. Tazrika's good. She's no MP." He turned to Tazrika. "We're not supposed to talk about it, but a few months ago, we got some good funding. Lots of money all of a sudden. Rhydak brought it in when he took over the gang. We could get good weapons and supplies. Like this truck."

  "So why'd I only get a steel pipe for a weapon?" Tazrika asked, waving the aforementioned weapon around in the tight confines of the truck.

  "Ah, funding dried up. Boss won't say why. That's why we're picking up supplies. We need some credits."

  "Makes sense."

  "We're here," the driver rumbled.

  Krassik slapped the side of the truck twice, and everybody scrambled out.

  They stood in front of a rusty fence around a yard full of junk. A few unnaturally hardy weeds struggled to grow in the compacted dirt, surrounded by wrecked vehicles, burned-out thruster cones, and the industrial trash of a thousand other discarded vehicles.

  "We're stealing something from here?" Tazrika said in disbelief.

  "The haul's inside," Krassik said. "We got a lead about some stuff Riftborn stole. Good camouflage, huh? Tazrika, you want to let us in?"

  There was a short chain holding the gate closed, secured with a lock so old that looked as though it had been manufactured before space travel had been discovered.

  She slid the end of her pipe into the chain and began to rotate it. She paused as the chain grew taut. Up to now, she hadn't deliberately committed any crimes. Her conscience pinched her.

  But no. This was Tazrika's job. She couldn't afford any suspicion. She needed to do her job.

  She threw weight against the pipe, and the rusty chain gave way.

  They opened the gate and drove the truck into the yard.

  After a few minutes of searching, one of the other lizardmen called out. The crew walked over.

  A large box made of thick cardboard sat on a pallet. It was filled with strange electronics and unfamiliar wires.

  "This is what we're looking for?" Tazrika asked. "What are they?"

  Krassik lifted something out of the box. It looked like part of a helmet, trailing thick wires.

  "Neurotrodes," Krassik said, "with no limiters."

  Tazrika grimaced.

  "That the kind of thing you're into?" she sneered.

  "Hey, I'll hit a stimtron sometimes, but I don't mess with these things. Too dangerous. Even if I needed a stim that bad, I wouldn't trust myself to program it right. Trodeheads will pay real good for these rigs, though. There must be a hundred or more in here."

  Tazrika picked one up and looked at it. It looked cheaply made. The halves of the plastic shell didn't fit together right, and the buttons weren't even aligned with their holes. The wire looked like good, heavy-gauge wire, though.

  "You like our stuff, huh?"

  The Electroveil crew started and whirled around. While they'd been focused on the goods, a group of rough-looking Terrans had emerged from deeper in the yard.

  Tazrika scanned them. There were eight or ten Terrans. They were big, but young. The tallest stood at the front, nearly as tall as one of the Ursine, with his arms crossed.

  They were spread out and trying to look tough, but Tazrika could tell they were nervous.

  Krassik gave them a lazy smile, showing off his yellowed sawblade teeth.

  "Yeah, we thought we'd buy them off you," he said.

  "Oh yeah? What you offering?"

  "The continued use of your legs," grumbled one of the Ursine.

  The Terrans were rattled but clinging to their tough facade.

  Not that it was much of a facade. Tazrika was so short in this crowd that she felt as though she was surrounded by angry, violent trees.

  She stood a little straighter and sneered.

  "This is Riftborn territory," the tall Terran said. "What makes you think you bunch of corp-hound SSes can roll in here and leave in one piece?"

  Tazrika stepped forward and gestured to the tallest Terran. He leaned down toward her.

  "You should talk to Krassik with respect," she said quietly. Then she drove an elbow into his throat.

  The heavy Terran made an awful gagging sound and dropped to his knees, thick drool hanging from his mouth as he tried to remember how to breathe.

  Everyone froze as a galvanic spike of fear swept all assembled.

  "The deal's clear," Tazrika said in a quiet, dangerous voice. "Take it or leave it." She held up one hand in a fierce claw, the bright sunshine catching the sharpened edges of her talons. "Krassik, can I use these next?"

  A moment of silence held the yard. Then Krassik burst into laughter.

  "Our little Taz is ready to tangle!" he cried. "What do you say, Terrans? You want to tie into it?"

  The Riftborn watched their leader rolling on the ground, gagging and crying, taken down by the smallest of the Electroveil crew.

  "T-take it," said one of them. Relief spread through the Terrans as one of them spoke. "Just get out of here."

  "Appreciate doing business," Krassik said.

  The Electroveil crew loaded the box into the back of the truck while the Riftborn helped their boss back to his feet.

  Krassik didn't stop laughing until they were back at Warehouse 17.

  The Emperor sat on his bed and looked at his quivering hands. They shook more, nowadays.

  "Have I left it too long?" he asked.

  "It... is... possible." The Cryptographer stood near the head of his bed

  "It's just so easy to keep going."

  The Cryptographer stared impassively at him.

  "Can we find the third aspect in time?"

  "The... Kobold... will... bring... him. Eventually."

  "I really thought she and the Admiral would have come already. I'd hoped... well, a lot of things, really."

  There was a long silence. It would have been an uncomfortable silence, except that Cryptographers are never uncomfortable, and the Emperor was too lost in thought.

  "I don't suppose there's a way to speed things up?"

  "Not... without... endangering... the... Solution."

  "Ah, well."

  The Emperor laid back in his bed.

  "It's a comfort to me to have you here while I sleep," he said. "I'm glad you're all so willing to go along with my little quirks."

  "We... are... bound... in... purpose... to... you."

  The Emperor smiled wryly.

  "Well. Good night. Perhaps tomorrow we will find our aspect, eh?"

  "It... is... unlikely."

  The Emperor chortled at the pessimistic response and turned out the light.

  Admiral Stonefist stood on the captain's dais on the bridge of the ISS Swordheart. Young Lieutenant Sol Baric stood beside him, his scanner ready.

  Grimthorn's mind had been a whirl these last few weeks. Commander Ordren, the Cryptographers, and now the possible recovery of the fleet lost at Arcturus.

  And, of course, every thought, every plan circled mercilessly back to Kinnit. Her bright smile and luminous eyes stayed in the forefront of his mind. His heart ached to be with her again. He hoped she was having a relaxing time with her family back on Takkar, her homeworld.

  He shook his head. Focus on the task at hand.

  "We've been getting reports of increased pirate activity lately. Lieutenant Baric, do you have the coordinates?"

  "Nav has already laid in a patrol course for us, sir."

  "Very good. Let's go."

  The Ninth Fleet began its slow turn toward the jumphole.

  "Nothing clears the head like combat," Admiral Stonefist said. "Let's go put the fear of the Imperium into some pirates."

  after Valentine's Day, which is appropriate, since I tend to forget about this holiday. Fortunately, my wife is very forgiving. :) Hopefully you find the story to be a little silly, and a little sweet.

  March 1.