Written for the Escapist Magazine, recreated in-part with permission.
The cockpit shifts to danger red, and Cactus calmly reports, “Weapons lock, preparing for evasive maneuvers.”
“W-weapons lock!?” The police dispatch blusters through the ship’s radio, “That’s a civilian freighter!”
Police constable Cactus’s small, one-user ship drifts alongside a mammoth of a freighter, lined with cargo containers, as lasers begin spewing concentrated fire. The ship bobs and spins, slipping between the lasers with reckless abandon. Cactus calmly hurtles into danger with gleeful ignorance, while dispatch desperately tries to reign her in. “This is beyond the scope of the operation. I’m advising you to abort the mission, and retreat immediately!”
“And submit a mission failed report? I hate those forms!” And then she slams her frigate straight through the hull of the cargo ship.