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Shakazhan frontCaptain Benjamin Drexel, commander of the Hannibal, paced the bridge as he assessed their situation. Three years of cryo sleep had brought him and his crew to a place no other ships should be. And yet—there was a mysterious ship in orbit around the planet.

Angry and flummoxed, Drexel scrambled his fighters and raised his shields. Taking his seat in the big chair, he prepared a greeting—both friendly and intimidating, for the captain of the other ship.

“Any luck identifying that ship, Warrant Officer Wilson?” He barked at the young woman on communications.

“No, sir. Still getting the robotic garbage scow reading off her.”

“Well, we can all see that’s a lie,” his second said, making a rude gesture at the screen.

“Thanks, Ray,” Ben snapped.

“Anytime, sir,” Ray replied, nonplussed.

© 2017 Dellani Oakes

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