Voyage of the Jolly Roger #1
By Ray Koons AKA Col. Falkenhorst
Standard disclaimers apply.

Mark Sheppard was reclining in his bucket seat, looking  at 
a skin magazine.  His AK-47 hung on a strap within easy  
reach on a bulkhead nearby.  To his left, Falkenhorst was  
concentrating on piloting their stolen Raider class ship,  
the Avenger.

"Man, Shep.  That Josie back on Risa, she was a fine lay."  
Said Falk, showing a shitfaced grin.  Sheppard just smiled.  

"Falk, my man.  While you insist on spending your share of  
our ill-gotten gains on individual pieces of merchandise,  
I have taken the liberty of maximizing my experience,  heh 
heh heh," said Sheppard, flipping the page.  

"And then you had to spend the rest of your loot on that  
visit to the medcenter after your nuts almost rotted off  
from the Rigellian clap, you dumb fuck!  Hahahahahhaha!" 
said  Falkenhorst.  Sheppard winced at the painful memory 
of the  fast-acting venereal disease, but didn't show it. 

"And now we find ourselves cruising among the space-lanes 
in  the vicinity of the idyllic planet of Risa, eh?" 
Muttered Falkenhorst.   The sensor screen began pinging.  
"Say Shep, man weapons.  I've got  a fat bogey on sensors."  
Sheppard tossed the Vegan leg magazine  aside and slid the 
chair forward, keying up the weapons console.  

"Target is Antares class, bearing 001 Mark 7, range 5 Light 
years."  Said Falkenhorst.  He reached over, opening 
several red safety covers.   "Stand by to cloak."  The ship 
disappeared as Falk flipped the switches  from right to 
left.   Deep in the equipment spaces of the small ship,  
the cloaking device clunked and clattered and hummed to 
life.  It  always acted a little balky, but it worked.  It 
had damned well better  work, since Falk and Shep had spent 
many long hours in EVA suits  cutting it out of the 
shattered wreck of a Klingon Bird of Prey  they had 
ambushed.  

The Avenger's warp engines changed pitch as Falk angled the 
ship  in and matched speeds with the freighter, which was 
traveling at  Warp 3.  Sheppard reached up and pulled down 
his custom made HUD,  tapping in a firing solution on a 
keypad welded to the arm of his  seat.  "I'm gonna whack em 
with a torpedo to the starboard side to  make em drop out 
of warp, and then I'll nail the comms, shields  and bridge 
with the phasers." Said Shep.  

Falk cursed.  Torpedoes weren't cheap, but then again, 
Phasers  were useless at warp anyway.  Sheppard grinned as 
he lined up the  targeting reticle on the midships 
starboard section of the freighter.   Shep held the 
cloaking cut-out switch down for a second, and pressed  the 
firing button with his other thumb.  The torpedo flashed 
away.   Falk's hands tensed on the controls as he dropped 
the Avenger out  of warp behind the freighter.  

Sheppard repeated the earlier action, uncloaking the ship 
and  raking fire across the freighter's subspace 
transmitter and shield  generators before recloaking and 
letting Falk steer the vessel  around for another shot.  
The bridge crew of the freighter shat  their pants and 
screamed in terror as the Avenger decloaked right  in front 
of them.  Shep grinned as he sent 2 phaser bolts tearing  
through the freighter's bridge, snuffing out the command  
crew instantly.  

"I guess that's their last barbecue, heh heh heh," muttered 
Falkenhorst  as he dropped the cloak for good and powered 
up the scanners.  "Ok.   I'm getting some jolly readings 
from that ship.  Plenty of antimatter  fuel, foodstocks, 
the lot.  I'm gonna begin beaming it over."  Said  
Falkenhorst.  Sheppard nodded and laid his AK across his 
lap, hitting  a switch that slammed the airtight doors 
throughout the ship. If  someone from the freighter tried 
to beam over, they'd have fun  eating lead.  

A few minutes later, the cargo was aboard.  Sheppard was 
staring  intently into the HUD, his hands clasped around 
the firing controls  on it's sides.  "Can I waste their 
asses?" he asked.

"Yeah, if you don't use any torpedoes." Said Falk.  

"Ok," said Shep, squeezing the trigger again and raking 
phaser fire  across the stern of the ship.  A series of 
explosions ripped through  the aft compartments as 
superheated liquor kegs began blowing up.

"Cool, they're carrying Romulan ale.  We should have 
snatched some  of that;" said Shep.

"Oh Fuck!  Sheppard, hurry the fuck up!" said Falkenhorst, 
his  voice rising in alarm.

"Just what's the problem, eh Falk?" muttered Shep, 
squinting  through his gunsights.  

"Our problem is an Akira Class Starship coming in at Warp 
9!" yelled  Falkenhorst, his eyes flashing with fire.

"Oh Fuck." Spat Sheppard, firing off a full volley of 
torpedoes into  the aft of the stricken freighter.  The 
ship heeled over, spewing flames  and wreckage.   "Go GO 
GO!!" said Shep. 

"It's not blowing up-" Falk was cut off as a series of 
heavy explosions  ripped the freighter apart in a blinding 
fireball.  "They're almost in  sensor range, man! Cloak! 
CLOAK for fuck's sake!" said Sheppard,  reaching over and 
flipping the switches.  Falk brought the ship around  and 
hit the throttles.  The Avenger disappeared into warp drive 
as  the USS Michigan began it's first sensor sweep.  

15 minutes later, the Avenger was at Warp 6, putting 
distance between  the Federation ship and itself. 

"Man, Falk, we've gotta start planning these hits better.  
We almost  got wasted back there." Said Sheppard.

"At least that freighter crew will tell no tales," said 
Falkenhorst,  leaning back in his seat.     "Hah, yeah.  
And those punkass feds won't get their sensor logs either,  
HEHEHE" said Sheppard, pulling another porno magazine from 
his stash  under a console.  The ship sped onward, out and 
away from the core  of the Federation.  Where they were 
going, only time would tell.