Excerpt: Fractured Symphony: Vortex

The hover jets pushed the ship's nose up just enough to send it sailing over the hull of the massive passenger cruiser in the next berth. A startled squawk came from the communications panel as the traffic controller realized what was happening. [Attention, human vessel! Darkpoolport is currently under a Class Theta lockdown. Please return to your assigned berth at once.]

"Yeah, right," Jack muttered, increasing speed and aiming for the ribbon of nebula overhead. The ship blew past a much slower security vessel, and its weak plasma beams splashed harmlessly against the underside of a wing. Before it had a chance to turn around and give chase, the Chula warship was already skimming the upper layer of the planet's atmosphere.

The faint glow of atmospheric gases dissipated from his viewport, revealing the endless expanse of space, marred only by the planet's massive rings. Still in the planet's gravity well, but high enough to eliminate molecular friction, Jack smiled grimly and throttled up.

To his surprise, when he checked the tactical readout, the red blip of the Agency ship was still descending towards the spaceport. Why weren't they giving chase? Had he read the situation completely wrong?

Momentary hope gave way to disappointment when the blip finally wheeled around and streaked in his direction. His comm panel sprang into life. "Unidentified craft, you are in violation of intergalactic procedure and have breached a Time Agency quarantine. Surrender immediately or you will be destroyed. You have twenty seconds to comply."

So that was it then. They had come for some completely unrelated reason, and he had jumped the gun completely and made things worse. Either that or they were putting on a show for the planetary authorities, which he didn't doubt. Time Agents never went rogue. Never. At least, not that the Agency let anyone know about. Even if he surrendered, the crime of desertion carried the penalty of execution. No trial. No last words. Just a bolt to the brain and then dump the body into the nearest convenient star.

Screw that.

"Computer, power up weapons!" Jack ordered. His blood began to sing with adrenaline, gearing his body up for the fight. He would rather fight to the death than allow himself to be killed and spaced like a common criminal.

"There are no weapons installed," the computer said, sounding almost regretful.

Jack faltered. "Are you serious?"

"Affirmative."

Running it was, then. Cheated of his glorious last stand, but possessing a hundred-thousand mile head start, Jack pushed the Chula ship onto an intercept course with the nearest planetary ring.