text: If Karoff can't track the ships there could be one lining up a shot even now. You'd installed a few shortcuts on your console and wristcomm last night, preparing for the possibility you'd be working alone, and now tap a key. The lights in the command center dim briefly as outside the station the massive shield generators hum to life and the turrets ready themselves. Whatever they'd been expecting, anyone approaching will know the station has people inside ready to defend it now, and that you'd been expecting them.
  
  "They're hailing us," Karoff says.
  
  "Oh good, let me talk to them. Maybe they're going to surrender."
  
  Karoff smirks at the comment and patches the call through to the viewscreen. An older man with steel-grey hair and a scarred face looks down at Hinsman and says in a gravelly voice. "I see you have a ship locked into the bay. Whoever you are, I suggest you use it. We won't stop you from leaving peacefully, but we're taking this station and anyone who tries to stop us will most certainly be killed."
  
  Hinsman looks unimpressed. "On the contrary, I think it's you folks who'd better turn around and leave. The Last Outpost is an Order station vital to maintaining peace in the Outer Rim, and if you fire upon it it's an act of war. We will hunt you down. There won't be a single airless, lifeless rock left out there you can hide under."
  
  The man smiles. "Well aren't you a big talker. But have it your way. I tried to make this easy, but I've never been afraid of a little work to get what I want, and I'm going to enjoy killing you even more now."
  
  The transmission cuts off and the first barrage of missiles collides with the central complex, shaking the whole station.
  
  You steady yourself against the doorframe. "They know this area is shielded. I'm surprised they don't go for the turrets."
  
  "Think those were just showoff shots to let us know they mean business," Karoff tells you. "Look, they're deploying into new positions now. Easier to keep track of at this range, anyway."
  
  "Off to a good start. I don't object at all to them wasting missiles," Hinsman says with a shrug. "They'll run out soon and then have to get within range of the turrets to use their lasers."
  
  Karoff has been tapping feverishly at a console, and suddenly interrupts. "And there go a few of my own. Two can play the torpedo game."
  
  Crowding around the screen, you watch as the missiles spin through the formation the ships had been gathering up into. There are a couple of glancing hits that take one ship out of commission and force others to veer this way and that. Two more are hit but their shields hold. Shields are almost always going to be weaker on a ship than on a station, but you suspect they'd all been angling themselves to protect the weaker ships in the center while they made their first sweep at the turrets.
  
  The missiles that are evaded by the pirates were lined up so that they exploded against the shields of the larger carrier ship waiting behind them. Again, no significant damage done, but the big ship does start moving to get more distance from you, meaning it won't be so readily available to provide backup to the pirates.
  
  You take a moment to send a torpedo tearing through the disabled ship, then frown at the screen. "Here they come again."
  
  The seven remaining ships come in at an angle, then just out of range of what would be a practical distance to take a shot at them they split into two groups, circling the station from opposite sides. The ships launch a series of missiles at the turrets as they swoop by, and while the lasers are able to take most of them out before impact, one does slip through and blow a gun into pieces spinning off into space.
  
  The three of you exchange grim looks. You know that with every gun that goes down they'll have a growing safe area to maneuver in.
  
  A moment later the ships begin another sweep. They concentrate their fire at the arms surrounding the one with the turret they cleared. Karoff takes another one out with a well timed missile that hits at the moment they drop their own, but two more turrets are taken out regardless. As you watch, a smaller ship moves in, aiming for the now unprotected arm housing the medical wing. It takes you a moment, but you come to a sudden realization. "They're trying to board it!" you say, remembering the massive gap open to space there.
  
  "We can stop them, surely?" Hinsman asks.
  
  Karoff shakes his head. "At that angle, can't really...wait! My ship! I've got a dozen torpedoes loaded still."
  
  "You transfered so much of the power over, though. It won't even have shielding. Let's stay on the station and just take up positions near the entrance to that section, pick them off when they come through."
  
  "We don't even know how many they have, and we don't have anything more powerful than a laser rifle. I really don't like leaving the rest of the ships free to do whatever while we're over there either."
  
  You're all running out of time fast. They really can't stand there arguing much longer. The situation being what it is, you decide to take the lead for once and just let them follow.
  > say "We don't need to stop them."
  "They're not coming here. They're looking for the vials," you reassure them. "And they won't find them." The first thing you'd done after finding Markov's stash, before you'd done anything else, was melt every single vial along with its contents down to nothing with your laser torch. "Oh, and assuming they know exactly where to look, I left a little surprise for them."
  
  The lab had been full of all kinds of interesting chemicals, and the three of you aren't waiting too long before the sensors trained on the medical wing register a sizable explosion. A moment later, the ship that carried them is careening away, clumsily enough that a laser turret can slice it in half before the shields have a change to reactivate.
  
  "Beautiful." Karoff grins, then squints at the screen. "And I think...yes, looks like the others may be retreating. Or moving back toward the carrier, anyhow. You musta got somebody important. That grumpy old bastard from the viewscreen, I hope."
  
  Well done, Zee." Hinsman slaps you on the back. "Damn, will there be enough left in medical to scrape up some DNA, I wonder? There's gonna be a hell of a manhunt on once we transmit this battle report. Hope none of you were planning a vacation."