No Moon

Red Ship

"Move," Luka elbowed Tusca out of the way, a fierce, furious expression on his face. Before Tusca could say anything, the prince settled himself in Carlito's empty seat. Electricity crackled across the console, and he wrenched open a cerebral socket that Tusca didn't know he had.

"When-" he started, and made for his chair, because he knew that look and he wanted to be strapped in for whatever came next. "You-"

"You gave Roja permission to teach me," Luka said with a coldness to him that he must have learned before he ran away from home. "He taught me. Can't do our kind of flying without one."

The ship groaned and the crew called their worries or curses as suited their natures. Luka ignored them as wires snapped free all over the bridge and wired themselves into his console. Soon it was a spiderweb of glittering wires, and Luka fitted a small plug onto the nearest coil and plugged himself straight into the ship's control center.

Then he flipped on the comms.

"I am Lucas Rayhan Goliat, Crown Prince of the Human Galactic Empire," he snapped, Imperial accent crisp as he bit the words off with a viciousness no one could miss. The pirates on the other end stared at him, and Tusca smoothed his face of any expression. If Luka thought he had a winning play, well, it wasn't like Tusca had anything better to offer. "You are currently in violation of eighteen Galactic laws including murder, and guilty by your own admission of more than that. If you do not vacate this area immediately I will personally and with great pleasure, blast you out of the goddamn sky."

He flipped the comms again, and Tusca could only stare at him as electricity crackled around them again and the web around Luka pulsed. The ship rumbled, and Luka smiled coldly.

The pirates, apparently, weren't smart enough to take the hint. Weapons began to power up, and their own shields flickered on in time to block the first few salvos in a bright splash of silent light.

Then they were moving.

"Captain?" Do' was white-knuckled in her chair as a coil of wires jacked into her console on their own.

"Luka's in charge," Tusca decided as his ship shot forward, dodging between blasts like Luka had grown up a fighter pilot. "He says to do something, you do it."

"Yes captain," Left replied for Do', his hand tight on his twin's shoulder. Right was focused on his console, but they all knew there was nothing he, or anyone else, could do.

Luka flipped the comms back on as the pirates began to circle around them.

"Galactic control," he said shortly after keying in a short code from memory. "Alpha-Delta-Eta-eight-four-two, by the sign and Order of the Imperial Throne. I want an open channel to every Galactic ship in range."

There was loud silence over the comms, and for a moment Tusca wondered what was going on.

Then; "Yes, your Imperial Highness,"

The comm tech sounded rattled. That was telling in and of itself. Comm techs were known for their unreasonable control during transmissions. To shake one of them was a feat in and of itself.

Luka dropped the shields suddenly as one of the other ships got just a little too close.

Lightning blazed along their hull and leapt to the enemy ship in a long bolt that left an ionized trail behind it.

The other ship shuddered violently, and Luka's hands danced across the controls.

Tusca wondered how he could split his attention in so many directions at once. Flying, controlling the Power no one knew he had, and broadcasting all at once.