The large spacecraft before The Future Spirit bore the ominous symbol of The United Earth Sector Fleet (U.E.S.F.) on their hulls, a sight Onvelor cursed as he realized who had discovered the Journey-class starvessel.

Robert had rushed over to one of the many computers in the M.C.B. moments after The U.E.S.F. ships had come out of hyperspace, and now said, “Sir, we are being summoned by the lead command ship.”

Onvelor wasn’t in the mood to chat with members of an empire he detested, though a short conversation with the commander of the fleet could buy some valuable time.

“Raise our heavy shields, prepare all weapons to fire, and set our engines on standby for hyperspace jump into the nearest Asatran system.” Onvelor ordered, turning back towards Robert as he said these things.

The Asatranian’s were another dominate empire that controlled many of the systems The United Earth Sector forces did not. The U.E.S. and the Asatran empires were well-known for the dislike of the other, considered as rivals in the conquest for greatest control.

In this instance, Onvelor knew he could use their differences to his benefit. But first he would have to buy Robert enough time to prepare The Future Spirit for the jump.

“Shall I patch the U.E.S.F. transmission through as well?” Robert asked, just about to begin the tasks Onvelor had instructed.

“Yes. Patch it through.”

Robert turned back to the computer, and after a mere few seconds, the U.E.S.F. transmission was patched through to The Future Spirit’s Command Bridge.

A large hologram flickered into existence before Onvelor, a U.E.S.F. Fleet Commander appearing on it from the shoulders-up.

He looked to be in his late forties to early fifties, with greying hair, a minuscule beard, and lightly-tanned skin. His eyes, a green shade, locked onto Onvelor as the communication link came fully online.

The man spoke before Onvelor had hardly any chance to do so himself.

“I am U.E.S.F. Fleet Commander Grassion Wotes, commander of the secondary U.E.S.F. Outer Fleet.” Commander Wotes announced. “You are hereby ordered to surrender yourself and your vessel by the authority of The U.E.S. Empire. Resistance will not be dealt with in a kindly manner. Prepare to be boarded.”

It looked as though Wotes had said what he needed to, and was about to cut the transmission.

Onvelor, keen on keeping the transmission alive to buy time for Robert, spoke up before the Fleet Commander could break the communication link.

“Under what charges are you exercising this authority?” Onvelor questioned, keeping himself stony, his voice even, and the rock-solid emotion on his face indifferent. He knew the answer, but following his current mindset, it was purely a stall tactic.

Grassion Wotes returned his glare to Onvelor, and returned, with some slightly perceptible annoyance, “Under the charges of level-7 theft of U.E.S. Empire Scientific Research property; the Voluntary manslaughter of multiple U.E.S. Security Units and personnel; illegally hacking into a U.E.S. computer mainframe; allegedly harboring enemies of the U.E.S.; breaking and entering a U.E.S. facility, and several other less-notable crimes. You are also a dangerous extremist, and must be put in your place to prevent more ill-looked-upon incidents.”

“I see,” Onvelor said, betraying nothing concerning the fact he already knew the entirety of his crimes against The U.E.S. Empire. “You know who I am then?”

“Onvelor Jou Dematin; extremist, proficient scientist in many fields, eccentric adventurer, and infamous terrorist against The U.E.S. Empire.” Wotes replied.

Onvelor chuckled to himself on the inside. The Fleet Commander had done a fine job of describing him in the basics of his persona, and it amused him.

“This is what your empire believes me to be?” Onvelor returned, keeping himself serious in outward appearance and action. “An eccentric extremist?”

“Moreso you are an infamous terrorist; one The Empire has no further patience with.” Wotes countered, his demeanor now obviously portraying his annoyance towards Onvelor and the conversation. “And abiding to that lack of further patience, we will board your ship and you will become a prisoner of The U.E.S. I recommend you concede. The Empire is unforgiving; especially to you.”

With that, the Fleet Commander cut the transmission; the hologram before Onvelor disappearing into the nearby projector units, and leaving Onvelor himself to look out upon the U.E.S.F. Warships which were quickly closing in on The Future Spirit.

Onvelor looked back towards Robert, who was standing over a computer console, and asked, “Is everything I instructed you to do complete?”

“Yes, sir.” The L.aE.A.I. Droid responded. “Heavy shields are operational, weapons active and ready to fire, and we are set to make the hyperspace jump into the nearest Asatran system.”

“Excellent. Make the—“

The Future Spirit suddenly jostled violently, nearly knocking Onvelor off his feet.

“Sir! Our engines have been hit by a volley enemy fire!” Robert exclaimed, intent upon the computer console before him. “Some of the impact blast breached the shields, though very minimum, and the engines took only slight damage.”

“Can we still make the jump?” Onvelor asked with urgency.

Robert pressed a few things on the console in front of him, and after a moment replied, “Yes, we are still capable of—“

Another violent rumble shook the vessel, this one much stronger than the last.

It sent Onvelor to the floor with its ferocity, and as he collided with the hard metal which his feet had rested on moments ago, he knew the cause of the terrible rumble the ship had sustained.