The clinking of glasses, the soft murmur of dinner conversation and the sound of fine music, an old Italian opera, filled the surprisingly large space. The lights were turned dim and the many different smells of the various foods lying at the center of the large table brought back some very vivid memories, most of them good ones.

"Why so quiet, Tobias," Max Gun'jhur spoke lightly from his immediate right. "Aren't you enjoying this marvelous treat?"

Tobias Thibodeau allowed his eyes to roam over the Officer's Banquet Hall, settle on most of the faces, some he knew, some he'd just met, and then turned to face his business manager. "Of course, Max, I'm enjoying this evening very much. By the looks of things, you are, too."

Gun'jhur fixed him with a sly smile, raised a glass of deep red wine and clinked it lightly against Thibodeau's. "That's the spirit."

Suddenly there was the sound of a utensil being rapped quickly against a glass and all eyes turned toward the captain of the Rabbit II, seated to Thibodeau's left. "Quiet, quiet, everyone," the man said, looking regal in his dress blues, and fixed Thibodeau with a grin. "I would like to propose a toast. That is, if you don't mind, sir."

The man seated directly across the table from Thibodeau gave a short nod of his head and smiled. "Of course not, Captain Braithewaite, please do."

"Very good, sir," Braithewaite said, slid his chair back a few centimeters and stood. "It is with great honor that we dine here tonight along with the enormous musical talent of these very gifted people." Braithewaite paused for a slight round of applause. "It gives me great pleasure to know that I have sailed the currents of space with the lot of you, my new friends, and all of us here hope to do so again soon."

"Here, here," the man across the table from Thibodeau said and another small round of applause followed.

Braithewaite sat and reached over to lightly grab Thibodeau's arm. "You are an amazing musician, Mr. Thibodeau," the captain said. "One whose talents can not be known by those who merely listen to broadcasts of it. No, only those of us who've had the privilege to hear you perform in person can possibly know the enormous talent you possess."

"That's very kind of you, Captain Braithewaite," Thibodeau said. "But I'm just a player of music, nothing more."

"Spoken like a true gentleman," Captain Braithewaite said and leaned toward his employer. "What say you, Mr. Turney…are these mere musicians we dine with tonight?"

Glenn Turney shook his head from side to side and smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth. "From what I've heard so far, absolutely not, my friend, absolutely not."

Thibodeau bowed his head toward the white covered table and his now empty plate, feeling just a bit uncomfortable with the praise of this ship's owner and captain. Max saved him from the moment by leaning forward and catching the captain's eye. "My good Captain Braithewaite, this is one fine boat you have."

"It's not mine, Mr. Gun'jhur," Braithewaite said, although he swelled in pride at the compliment. "It belongs solely to Mr. Turney."

Max directed his attention to Glenn Turney and raised his glass. "Then to you, sir, a fine boat indeed."

"Actually, this is the second version of the Rabbit," Turney said. "The first one was lost in a rather unpleasant skirmish with border pirates along the fringes. All the crew was lost…I had this vessel built as an exact replica of the first and renamed it Rabbit II, in order to honor the men and women who had served aboard her predecessor. I was very lucky that day. Two minutes from boarding her for the journey before some business call or other begged me off the access ramp."

Thibodeau noticed Max stiffen at the mention of pirates, he was obviously recalling their own ordeal with piracy not too long ago. "Let's hope that this journey turns out differently, then."

Several people around the table laughed at that and Toby stood, looking toward Anita Salazar, three seats away. "Would you care to dance, Ms. Salazar?"

The band's back-up singer smiled, rose from her chair and took Thibodeau's proffered hand. Anita looked stunning in a low-cut blue satin dress, her dark shoulder-length hair and olive complexion a perfect contrast to the shimmering fabric. The dress fit snugly and Anita's well kept form had been turning heads all evening. As the two walked from the table to the dance floor, Thibodeau leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Thanks for saving me back there?"

"You were doing just fine, Toby," she said as they reached the floor and began a slow dance. "Why do you always get flustered around InterGridactic Trillionaires or military personnel?"

"It's a long story, Anita," Thibodeau laughed. He tried to avert his eyes from the generous amount of cleavage she was sporting tonight but, being at least a foot taller than she was, he was finding it very hard to do.

"Oh, please, Toby," she said and blushed. "I bet you've had this type of angle on female breasts your entire life…look at how tall you are, for crying out loud."

Thibodeau grinned at that and Anita stepped closer, pressing herself against him. "This is nice, Toby, we should get more gigs like this."

"You'll have to ask Max about that," Thibodeau said, catching his business manager in deep conversation with Glenn Turney and Captain Braithewaite as he and his dance partner twirled across the floor. A great chandelier hanging from the center of the magnificently sculpted ceiling was something to behold. The ornate dance floor was astounding, Thibodeau marveled at the work that must have gone into laying the millions of multi-colored tiles. The sheer scope of the project was truly mind-boggling.

He moved left his hand lower on Anita's hip and fastened his hold on her a bit tighter. He'd been enjoying her company very much so far on this trip. The great yacht was larger than most cruise-type vessels and there were many different great halls in which the band had entertained the various passengers these past few days. Usually unwilling to become romantically involved with anyone on the crew or in the band, Thibodeau was finding himself becoming more and more attracted to the dark haired beauty each and every moment he shared with her.

He looked down at her again only to find her looking up. Sharing a smile, they both looked at each other for the better part of a minute, lost in each other's gaze as they danced very slowly. "Boy, are you getting an eyeful tonight," Anita said and he somehow smiled wider than he'd been smiling, something that he wouldn't have thought possible.

"The view's great from up here, too."

"I just bet it is," she said, playfully kicking him in the shin.

"Hey, watch it now, don't go crippling the lead singer," Thibodeau chided just as the music suddenly stopped, only to be replaced by an announcement that reverberated off the walls of the enclosed space and seemed to echo inside Thibodeau's skull.

"Captain Braithewaite and Mr. Turney, your presence is required on the bridge," the voice sounded rushed and with a tinge of fear, Thibodeau thought. "Your urgent response would be greatly appreciated."

Thibodeau caught Anita's concerned glance and turned to watch as Braithewaite and Turney left the room in a rush. Max quickly approached from across the dance floor and Toby realized that Anita had not released his hand despite the fact that they'd stopped dancing.

"What is it, Max?" Thibodeau asked.

"They haven't a clue, Tobias," Gun'jhur said. "But I didn't like the tone of that message."

"Yeah, I caught that, too," Thibodeau said and squeezed Salazar's hand tightly.

"I knew this gig was too good to be true," Anita said and laid her head against Toby's right arm. Now there was a feeling he could learn to like, Thibodeau thought, then cursed himself for not staying focused on attempting to discover the cause of their newest apparent crisis.

# # #

Braithewaite entered the bridge followed closely behind by Turney. "My God, what could be so important…?"

"Sorry to disturb your dinner, Captain Braithewaite," the Rabbit II's First Officer said and gestured toward the viewscreen where an enormous ship was slowly rolling in space. "I thought that this was important enough to call you both here, though."

Braithewaite stepped closer to the viewscreen, taking in the gigantic size of the craft drifting lazily before them. "Reduce magnification."

"Sir, there is no magnification on that image," Percy Godwin said. "We came right in close to run the scans."

"You mean that thing's as big as it looks?" Braithewaite wondered aloud and Godwin nodded in affirmation.

"It's very large, sir," Godwin said. "I believe that it's the…"

"It's the Hound Dog," Turney said. "I recognize it."

Braithewaite turned toward Glenn Turney and raised his right eyebrow. "You mean Pressly's ship?"

"The very one," Turney said. "I've been on it a few times, I should know."

"Mr. Turney's correct, Captain," Godwin said. "We verified her identification by the markings on her hull, she's not transmitting anything. We couldn't even pry it out of her dead banks, sir. She's not giving up a thing."

"Any signs of life, Godwin?" Turney asked.

"No, sir."

Braithewaite let several silent seconds pass before he turned back to look at the image floating across the screen. "That ship must have been carrying at least ten thousand people."

"At the very least," Turney said. "She's so dark."

"Yes, sir," Godwin said. "Like I mentioned, she's a hulk. Simply floating. Who knows for how long."

"What could have happened?" Braithewaite asked.

"That's the strange thing, sir," Godwin said. "We've run scans on all sides of her, every nook and cranny. There aren't any signs of hull breach, no signs of any cataclysmic failure, nothing to indicate why she should be floating like that."

"Were you able to detect the bodies?" Turney asked.

"One more thing to add to the strange list, sir," Godwin said. "Our sensors didn't pick up anything in there. Nothing. It's as if all those people just left…all at once."

"What in the hell is going on?" Braithewaite asked. "This is impossible. With today's technology…what could it have been?"

Turney turned toward his Captain and sighed deeply. "Let's find out, those were good people. A competitor, no doubt, but very good people. That ship was Aaron Pressly's headquarters. He did all his business there. Those ten thousand people weren't merely passengers, they were his employees. They must have been headed somewhere for some purpose. Let's find that out and send a message to the nearest U.E.N. Outpost."

"Consider it done, Mr. Turney," Braithewaite said and began issuing orders to the bridge crew.

Turney took one last look at the vast floating hulk just outside his Rabbit's hull and felt a sudden sense of loss. Although he and Pressly had been fierce business rivals, the two had liked each other and often sought the other's company. Even when there wasn't any business to discuss. Not an actual friend but, Turney knew he would miss Pressly very much. Another sigh and he left the bridge to seek out his special guests. Perhaps they could play something impromptu and take his mind off of this horrible tragedy.

# # #

The band was sitting together at the same table when Turney entered the Officer's Banquet Hall. There were four musicians altogether, although he'd heard that their number sometimes grew to as many as ten or more. Add to that any number of crew and the band's manager, Gun'jhur, and that would make quite an entourage.

"My friends," Turney said, plopping down into the captain's chair at the head of the table. "Please accept my apology for my hasty retreat earlier. It seems that we have stumbled upon quite a tragedy and the bridge crew was correct in calling Captain Braithewaite and I away from dinner as they did."

"Oh no, what's happened?" Anita asked.

"We have found a very large vessel floating in space, a derelict it seems," Turney said. "Right now, there are no life signs."

"Do you know whose ship it is?" Thibodeau asked, noticing that Max had grown alert at the mention of a derelict ship, too. Especially in this lonesome and often dangerous portion of space.

"Yes, we do," Turney said. "It belongs to a competitor of mine. One of the major players in the InterGridactic market place. It's called the Hound Dog…"

"Aaron Pressly's ship," Thibodeau said. "His headquarters, if I'm not mistaken."

"Correct," Turney said. "You've heard of it?"

"We've played there many a time," Gun'jhur said, as if he were one of the musicians himself, and slumped softly in his seat. "Mr. Pressly was a great fan of Toby's and the band."

Turney smiled at that. "I'm sure he was. Pressly was a very musically oriented fellow, to say the least."

Thibodeau nodded at that. "I didn't know him very well, personally, but we enjoyed some very long conversations about the history of music, especially with that of the man he considered his namesake."

"The one he liked to call the ‘King' of rock and roll," Turney said and smiled.

Thibodeau laughed and continued. "That's the one. We played for Pressly's employees at least twice an e-year. He had an enormous collection of music-related memorabilia. Most of it aboard the Hound Dog."

Turney laughed. "Of course, I should've known, that's where the tip to contact your Max here came from. It must've been old Pressly, it was sent to me anonymously."

Gun'jhur looked from Toby to Turney. "He'd mentioned to us several times that there was a business rival of his that would greatly enjoy our performances."

"Yes, it must have been him," Turney said. "I'll miss him, to be sure. I'd heard that his business affairs had fallen on very hard times recently, especially with some of his InterGridactic patents coming up for expiration. There'd even been rumors of a possible bankruptcy for all his business concerns. Times were growing dark for my old friend."

"Are you certain that he's dead, Mr. Turney?" one of the band members asked.

"Actually, no, not at this point," Turney said. "There are no life signs that our sensors can pick up but the ship is slowly rolling with no systems operational. No lights, no sound, no signals…it's dark."

Thibodeau shook his head in confusion. "This doesn't sound right," he said. "That ship must have held at least ten thousand people. Where are they?"

"We don't know, Mr. Thibodeau," Turney said. "But our sensors don't show any bodies floating around in that hulk either. It's very strange."

"A ghost ship?" Conor McCain, another of the musicians, asked and Max shot him a look.

"It might just be, young man," Turney said. "For all we know, they all simply blinked away. There's no signs of a hull breach, no signs of a critical systems failure. It's just floating, rolling actually and, from the looks of it, someone's turned it off."

"Can we get a look at it?" Thibodeau asked.

Turney turned a quizzical expression toward the tall band leader and said, "Well, yes, I suppose, if it will fulfill your sense of curiosity."

"Mr. Turney, you may not know this," Thibodeau started. "But all of us are very skilled engineers as well as musicians. It's one of the prerequisites for joining this band. We find that people who comprehend the intricacies of mathematics, the ebb and flow of higher math, understand music on a deeper level than most. It helps us to be better at what we do."

"Fascinating," Turney said and stood. "Then let's get you to the bridge for a look. If there's one thing we need, it's more points of view on what in the hell happened to Pressly's ship."

# # #

"There's no way around it, Mr. Turney," Thibodeau said. "We'll have to board the Hound Dog and find out what happened."

"That sounds dangerous, sir," Braithewaite said. "Perhaps our men should handle it. I'd feel better if men experienced in this sort of thing went over first."

"And how many men experienced in boarding gigantic derelict spacecraft do you happen to have in your crew, Captain Braithewaite?" Gun'jhur asked and the older man stiffened. "I mean that as no insult, sir, merely as a reference to the fact that none of you are actually experienced with what we have here."

"However," Thibodeau said. "We are."

"What do you mean, Toby?" Turney asked.

Thibodeau motioned toward Martino Velez and Conor McCain. "Those two are both former Engineer Corps, an exclusive group called on by the various branches of the U.E.N. Military whenever the need arises, and Conor there has even done some salvage work in his time. We've all been in a scrap or two in our travels and Max is an above-average pilot, too. At the very least, he could safely guide a small scout craft over to the Hound Dog and nestle it safely in a landing dock. First off, though, we have to stop that incessant rolling."

Braithewaite looked nervously from his boss to the band leader and back to Turney. "Well then, you seem to have the better of us in terms of actually boarding her. But you can leave the rolling issue to us."

"I'll come with you," Turney said to Thibodeau and Braithewaite snapped up from his chair. "Absolutely not, sir, I can not permit you to do so."

"Relax, Evan," Turney said. "The ship's been turned off, you said so yourself. We're just going to take a short ride over, check it out for ourselves and then we'll come right back. It's perfectly safe."

Braithewaite's eyes narrowed with concern. "Not without some of our own boys, sir. I must insist."

"Of course," Turney said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"We'll have to suit up," Martino said. "Do you have enough EV suits?"

"Yes," Braithewaite said after a moment's hesitation. "We have more than enough for a small party. But I still don't see why…"

"Don't worry, Evan," Turney said, raising a finger in an obvious signal to his ship's captain to be quiet. "What could go wrong?"

# # #

The small shuttle worked its way toward the landing deck in the belly of the Hound Dog and settled smoothly to the flat metal plates of the vast empty interior. The huge ship's rolling had been stopped moments earlier by an intricate series of tractor beams dispersed expertly by the Rabbit II's bridge crew. Thibodeau had been more than impressed with just how quickly their worst problem had been solved.

"Isn't it strange that the landing deck hatch seems to be missing?" Max Gun'jhur said and received several murmurs through the tiny speakers inside his helmet in return. "It's almost as if a hatch was never installed here."

"That's impossible," Martino Velez said. "Every ship has a landing deck hatch, especially one of this size."

"It's hugeness is impressive, isn't it?" Anita said. "But Max is right, I don't see a hatch or anywhere that looks like it could have rolled up into."

"We'll find one, it has to be there somewhere," Velez said as two of the Rabbit's crewman secured the docking clamps and opened the shuttle's exit hatch from their consoles in the tiny forward cockpit.

"Careful as you debark, people," a young voice sounded in Thibodeau's helmet. "We don't know what's going on here so be ready for surprises."

One by one, the eight suited figures emerged from the small hatchway and slowly floated to the deck plating, the magnetism in their boot soles ensuring contact with the metal surface. Everything was stark white, bright white, in the shuttle's exterior lights. But the total darkness lying just beyond the range of those lights made Thibodeau shiver inside his suit.

"I hate being exposed like this," Gun'jhur said, voicing Thibodeau's unspoken thoughts.

"Engage your suit lights," another commanding voice said and within seconds the interior of the vast landing deck grew far brighter.

"What's the plan?" Turney asked, his voice sounding smaller coming through the helmet speakers.

"We scout around, break up into two groups, keep in constant communications with each other and regroup here once the preliminary search is complete," Thibodeau offered.

"What exactly are we looking for?" again from Turney.

"Signs," Thibodeau said.

"Of what?" Anita asked.

"Of anything that can tell us what happened here," Gun'jhur finished and Thibodeau nodded.

"This ship is an anomaly," Toby said. "Some of us here have been on this ship before, it's usually bright, vibrant, almost alive with activity. Ten thousand people are usually aboard her during flights. Ten thousand. Where did they go? Why is this ship dead in the water, so to speak? Let's try to find out."

"Once again," Turney said. "What exactly are we looking for?"
"Anything unusual," Gun'jhur said. "Anything that stands out. Anything at all."

"Well I can think of one thing right now," Conor McCain offered. "This landing deck just doesn't feel right. I mean, from what I can see, it looks the same. But it doesn't feel right…you know what I mean?"

"It feels spooky to me," Martino Velez said and there were several grunts of agreement from the group.

"Conor's right," Thibodeau said. "It doesn't feel right. Something's wrong. Really wrong here. But, for the life of me, I can't put my finger on it."

"Conor and I will head down to the engine room, take a look-see," Velez said and Thibodeau nodded his helmeted head.

"I'll take Anita, Max and Mr. Turney to the bridge. One of the Rabbit II's crewmen should accompany each group," Thibodeau suggested and the crewmen nodded. "Each group should report their progress every five minutes. If one group fails to report, the other will work their way toward the last reported position of that group. Understood?"

More grunts of agreement and the eight figures made their way toward the landing deck airlock. Other than the beating of his heart and the quickened pace of his breathing, Thibodeau could hear no sound at all. The eerie silence was one of the things he hated most about extravehicular excursions into space. Although his suit was heated, he could feel the intense cold of space just inches away from his skin creeping into his bones. His fingers had gone ice cold and he could barely feel his toes. Deep down, he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him but the more steps he took into the interior of the vast empty ship, the more the urge to turn back and flee this awful place threatened to overwhelm his common sense.

"Let's get this over with as soon as possible," Thibodeau said to the group. "I won't be able to stand being here for much longer."

"I'm with you, boss," Max said as they reached the airlock door. One of the Rabbit II's crewmen brought a small device up to the entry access panel and entered a quick series of commands via the tiny keyboard. Thibodeau watched this all in complete silence and fought back the urge to look over his shoulder into the darkness that lay between the shuttle and their position.

The door didn't budge and the crewman repeated the process. When the door still didn't move, the man turned to look at Turney and Toby could see the man arch his eyebrows with confusion. "This should have worked, I don't understand."

"Let's see if the thing's even locked," Thibodeau suggested and the man placed both gloved hands against the large metal plank. With a minimum of effort, the hatch slid aside and a long empty corridor stared back at them. The interior was totally dark, a frightening blackness that Thibodeau was sure no one in the group wanted to be the first to enter.

"Jesus," Velez said and took one shaky step into the darkness. His suit lights played against the walls and the flooring, causing more shadows than there really were but Thibodeau gulped down the lump in his throat and followed his band mate into the murky depths ahead.

Soon all eight of them were in the cramped corridor, their suit lights bouncing off of smooth metal plating and leaving a good portion of the corridor still in an inky blackness.

"This still doesn't feel right," Thibodeau said out loud and felt Anita Salazar's suit bumping up against his from close behind. "Mr. Turney, you've been on this ship many more times than anyone else here. Can you tell me what you're feeling right now?"

Turney stepped through the group and took the forward position, allowing his suit lights to glance off the smooth metal walls. "I seem to remember carpeting here in this corridor and some piping running along the upper portion. I can't be certain but my memories of this corridor seem so clear. This is the only way out of the landing deck. Every time I've come here, I've had to wind my way through this corridor. As to why there aren't any pipes here, no carpeting…I can't say. Perhaps my memory serves me falsely."

"I don't think so," Thibodeau said as Turney's words brought it all together for him. "Mr. Turney's right. I remember this corridor, too. There was carpeting, a deep burgundy. There was piping, too, if you happened to notice it. Along with artwork adorning the walls and a handrail running along the left side. None of that here, though. In fact, I remember markings all over the deck plates in the landing deck, too. Do any of you remember seeing floor markings back there."

A few brief murmurs and it was established that none of them had. "Ok, so what we have here is a skeleton of the ship that we all remember," Turney said.

"Let's open one of these side hatches, take a look at another room," Velez offered and slid aside another unlocked metal panel. He poked his head into the room, allowed his suit lights to play around the bare walls and turned back to the group. "Empty and bare. No carpeting, no furniture, nothing."

"Where did it all go?" Turney asked. "Could the pirates who did this have looted the entire ship, taken everything of any value at all?"

"How many pirates do you know steal the carpeting off of corridor floors and take the time to dissolve the adhesive and scrape it all down to bare metal?" Thibodeau said.

"So what does it mean?" Anita asked.

Max and Tobias looked at each other through the clear faceplates in their helmets and both nodded in unison.

"This is a mock-up," Max said. "A dummy."

"Made to look, for all intents and purposes, like the Hound Dog but, in fact, just an empty hulk," Thibodeau said. "An elaborate look-alike, that's all."

"For God'sakes, why?" Turney asked.

"The hell if I know, Mr. Turney," Thibodeau said and turned toward the other end of the corridor. "I don't know about the rest of you but I've seen enough. Let's get back to the shuttle and report in to the Rabbit II."

Just then a crackle sounded in Thibodeau's helmet and an external link went live. "Attention Hound Dog boarding party, please return to the Rabbit II immediately."

"What is it, Rabbit II?" Turney asked.

"We have three ships approaching fast on long range scanners, sir, big ones," the voice came back. "And we've just picked up an energy source from the engine room of the Hound Dog. It's very hot and growing hotter."

"So is this a mock-up or what?" McCain asked as the group began shambling back down the corridor toward the landing deck.

"Rabbit II, does the energy source look like an engine signature, perhaps a warm-up cycle?" Thibodeau asked.

"Negative," came the immediate reply. "It's so hot, it screams of an incendiary. Reminds me of some of the military-grade explosives I've seen in action deep in my past. I have a nasty feeling about this and suggest that you make haste in your return."

"You heard the man," Turney said as the group attempted to hurry in the cramped confines of the corridor. "It sounds like this empty hulk is going to blow up soon and I want to be far from it when it does."

# # #

From the bridge of the Rabbit II, Max, Turney and Thibodeau watched the three blips signifying the three fast approaching ships. The rest of the band had gone to the science lab where the instrumentation there would allow them to better research the huge dead hulk floating just outside the hull. There were still too many unanswered questions, too much strangeness surrounding the ship.

"So, the question begs, why build a mock-up of one of the largest ships in the U.E.N. registry?" Max asked. "The only things I've seen larger than that floating hulk are military warships and those absurdly large cargo carriers. To build an empty framework on such a massive scale…for what purpose?"

"Good question, Mr. Gun'jhur," Turney said and bent over another monitor close by. "Those approaching ships are not running silent. They're still too far away for us to pick up any transponder activity but they're gaining fast. The fact that they haven't attempted communications yet can't mean anything good. They definitely know we're here, we're keeping no secret about it."

"I agree," Captain Braithewaite added. "This situation is about to get ugly. I suggest we power up and put some distance between ourselves and those three bogies."

"As well as that new mystery hot-spot on our free floating guest," Tobias added.

"Agreed, at full acceleration," Turney ordered and Thibodeau felt the slightest pressure of acceleration in the decking under his feet. Suddenly the dead hulk began to recede in the viewscreen, growing smaller as the Rabbit II scurried away.

"Captain," Godwin said from his post at another terminal. "I'm reading an increased energy reading coming from that hot-spot aboard the dummy Hound Dog. It's growing exponentially, perhaps triggered by a brief transmission we just detected originating from one of the three approaching ships. Whatever's going to happen will happen soon."

"Pour more speed into this rig, Godwin," Braithewaite said and his First Officer immediately relayed the orders to engineering.

"Hide your eyes!" Turney said as Thibodeau watched the viewscreen turn to bright white just before snapping his eyelids closed. The Rabbit II immediately began shaking and shuddering as the onslaught of energy waves created by the dummy Hound Dog's destruction pounded through space past their position. Thibodeau slowly opened his eyes now that the brightness on the other side of his lids had receded. A bright glowing central area, like the nexus of a galaxy seen from millions upon millions of miles, filled the viewscreen.

"What in the hell just happened?" Max said, rubbing his eyes with two fingers of his right hand.

"Our mock-up of the Hound Dog exploded it would seem," Braithewaite said as the bright remnants of the skeletal ship continued to grow smaller with the Rabbit's acceleration.

"The dummy began emitting transponder codes identifying itself as the Hound Dog about ten seconds before she blew," Godwin reported. "Along with a distress signal on all channels, multi-disbursement."

"What in the devil?" Max said but Thibodeau cut him short.

"Think about it, this all makes sense," the tall musician said. "Whoever's behind this has created an elaborate plan to hijack the Hound Dog and kidnap the Senior Officers of Aaron Pressly's business conglomerate. They built the dummy Hound Dog, took over the real ship, spirited it away from here and left the dummy with an explosive device aboard obviously strong enough to reduce the entire ship to very tiny pieces. All they needed was the mock-up so that any investigation into the matter would find small bits of a ship resembling Pressly's headquarters vessel. The transponder activity and distress call was a brilliant move, it'll make the authorities think that the ship ran into some fatal problems and blew up quickly, killing everyone aboard."

"Still, why?" Turney asked. "And why are those three ships still approaching?"

"My guess is they were part of the force that kidnapped Mr. Pressly and hijacked the real Hound Dog," Max offered. "They must have noticed us on one of their last scans and turned around to see how much we were able to learn during our recent boarding mission. When they saw just how close we were to the dummy Hound Dog, they must have grown suspicious that we'd uncovered the truth behind the mock-up. Then they poured on the speed and raced toward us."

"So, now we are chased by these same marauders," Braithewaite said and grinned. "Good then, let them come."

Turney turned to face him and returned the smile. "Thinking what I'm thinking, Evan?"

"What's going on here, you two?" Max asked and Turney laughed once.

"When the first Rabbit was…lost, I swore that her replacement would never fall into that kind of trap again. I've built the Rabbit II with faster engines and with an accompaniment of various weaponry the likes that no corporate yacht has ever seen."

"Careful, Mr. Turney," Thibodeau warned. "We have no idea who is chasing us, what their armaments are or how fast they are. You wouldn't want to test the Rabbit II's new toys against such a mystery."

"Why wouldn't I, Toby?" Turney asked. "How better to discover if I've gotten my money's worth?"

# # #

Aaron Pressly fidgeted in the captain's chair aboard his Excalibur Class Yacht, Blue Christmas. The captain of the boat stood mere inches away, standing at attention, no doubt resenting Pressly for usurping his command chair at this moment of crisis.

The plan had been brilliant, he was sure that it couldn't have been foiled by anyone, even by an experienced investigator in the U.E.N.'s SpaceBorne Emergency Response Unit. But then…disaster! Turney, damn him! His competitor's yacht had turned up at the most inopportune time! Minutes, they were just minutes away from destroying the Hound-Dog Doppelganger and all would have been made right in the universe.

His numerous business entities had experienced a major financial collapse over the past several months. His inner investigative unit showed massive errors and poor management as the primary culprit though Pressly knew that his idiot son was responsible. Three e-years ago he had been stupid enough to let the boy take over most of the figurehead duties that he himself used to perform, allowing the desire for more vacation time and a life away from the hell that was everyday business to cloud his better judgment. The kid hadn't been ready, had never understood the big picture of Pressly's corporate mission, and had begun to make horrible decisions behind his father's back.

Now, here he was, ready to turn tail, fake his own death and ride off into the proverbial sunset as a fugitive from justice. The plan should have worked, it should have been pulled off flawlessly…all except for Turney. Glenn Turney, bitter rival, sometime friend. A man he simultaneously detested and held a deep fondness for had come here and laid waste to all his grandiose plans for a re-birth. Over the past week, Pressly had dissolved most of his secondary businesses, allowing them to be taken over for enormous sums of cash by lesser competitors. All under a sworn secrecy and with the stipulation that most of his employees would continue on at their positions under the supervision of their new employers.

All of this had been done very quietly during dozens upon dozens of secret meetings with some no-face legal outfits who specialized in such shady dealings. None of it was legal but, who would care? At the end of the investigation, all of InterGridactic Space would think him dead and the building blocks that had been put in place over the past week would make it seem to the U.E.N. authorities that the smaller businesses owned by Pressly were being sold off to counteract the uncountable amount of debt currently owed by Pressly Enterprises.

It was a win-win situation…none could lose. His employees would continue working, his business entities would be absorbed by his rivals, his debts would be covered by the subsequent liquidation of his main business holdings and his death would be reported in all four Corporate Grid-Sectors. He would be mourned by trillions, he would watch the various stories of his life, some kind, some no doubt cruel, blaze across the nets and laugh and cry along with everyone else.

That is, if he could stop Turney from finding out the truth. There was no doubt the scoundrel had figured out the falsehood that was the Hound Dog's doppelganger. Especially if their scans were true and a small landing party had made it aboard before the ship blew.

Once they had appeared within scanner range of the Rabbit II and Turney's ship had turned around to run…Pressly knew the decision he would have to make. Thus far, his grand scheme had cost nobody their lives. But, in order to ensure that his good name not be smeared in the history books with tales of shady business practices, deals gone bad and shoddy management, he would have to destroy the Rabbit II and everyone aboard her.

How ironic, Pressly thought to himself, that the original Rabbit had been destroyed just a few e-years ago during an unwelcome visit by pirates. Everyone aboard had been killed…all except Turney, who had been called off the ship at the very last moment by an unexpected problem that needed his utmost attention. Pressly had been foiled back then, too. Those pirates had failed to establish concrete proof that Turney was aboard the Rabbit that day. If Turney could have been killed back then, when Pressly's business woes had first begun to show themselves, perhaps some of his troubles would have gone away due to the turmoil that would have overtaken Turney's various business interests.

Oh well…Pressly knew, to cry about what could have happened, should have happened, would have happened was to waste your tears and your time. Here he was right now, at the tail end of what should have been his glorious ride off into the sunset with his dignity intact and his InterGridactic reputation gone to the grave. Instead, he was giving chase to Glenn Turney, trying to outrace the Rabbit II and put an end to the threat that now hung over his grand plan like a great and dark menacing cloud.

"Can't you push this boat any faster?" Pressly snarled and the captain's head swiveled quickly around to stare down at him.

"We are at our maximum speed, Mr. Pressly," the tall and emotionless face of Captain Curry stated. "And we are gaining on the Rabbit II. We should be within weapon's range in mere minutes. Would you wish to deliver the fire-order, sir?"

Pressly bit his lower lip, cursed himself for being a sentimental fool and hesitating just this very tiny bit before issuing his answer. "Of course, captain. Let me know at the very soonest when we are in range. Perhaps my skeletal Hound Dog's destruction couldn't catch this Rabbit, but this ship's long-range missiles should be up to the task."

"Of course, Mr. Pressly," Curry said and turned his face back toward the viewscreen. Pressly knew that the captain of this lead ship thought him an old fool, as did the captains of all the other ships in his fleet, including the real Hound Dog, which was making due time toward the fringes of the U.E.N. / U.S.S. Border at this very moment.

"Screw you all…" Pressly muttered under his breath and noticed just a flicker of movement near the eyes of tall Captain Curry. "It's my money that makes you listen to this old fool and it's my money that will make you all continue to do so."

"Excuse me, sir?" Curry said without turning to face Pressly this time.

"I said, you ain't never caught a rabbit before today, Curry," Pressly snapped. "But, right here and right now, is your chance to show me that you're worthy of wearing those stripes on your sleeve."

"Have no worries, Mr. Pressly," Curry said in a snide tone that Pressly wasn't sure he liked very much. "By now the Rabbit II knows who we are, we've been in transponder range for quite some time. He'll see that his ship is more than outmatched and he'll accept his defeat. Mr. Turney's Rabbit will stop her running soon. Mark my words."

"Screw your words, Curry," Pressly said and slumped back in the captain's chair. "Just catch her already and let's turn around. My retirement and fake death have waited long enough already. Let's do this deed and be done with it."

Curry laughed once, a slight yet impetuous snort. Pressly knew the sound for what it was. The response of a man who hated his boss yet tolerated the old man's presence as long as it meant that more money kept flowing into those unmarked accounts. Part of the plan, part of the scheme and part of what made Pressly's overwhelming influence among his employees so complete.

# # #

Conor McCain and Anita Salazar entered the bridge aboard the Rabbit II with a pile of flimsies in their hands. "Wait til you see what we found on old Aaron Pressly."

"What do you mean?" Turney asked and grabbed the flimsies from McCain's hands.

"Take a look for yourself, Mr. Turney," Salazar said as she nestled up close to Thibodeau's left arm. "We were able to hack our way into his corporate network, raid his files and find some juicy tidbits on just how badly Pressly's financial outlook has become."

"These are incredible," Turney muttered, handing the sheets he was finished with to Thibodeau who then handed them to Max. "Simply incredible."

"Good work," Thibodeau said as he scanned the flimsies. "Now I guess we know a bit more about why the mock-up ship was constructed and what Pressly's plans were for the immediate future."

"Was he really in this bad a shape?" Turney asked as he scanned the numbers, all the horrible negative numbers. "Could Pressly Enterprises have been this bad off?"

"If Pressly's own files are to be believed," McCain said. "Martino is still working on more of this stuff. We thought it best to update you with what we've found so far, though."

"I'm glad that you did," Turney said and fixed Max Gun'jhur with an angry glare. "So this is why he's chasing us, then. Because he has to silence us, everyone on this ship, in order for his scheme to work. With us free to spoil the announcement of his supposedly fake death, he will not be able to pull this off."

"It seems very likely to me, Mr. Turney," Thibodeau said and glanced worriedly back at the console showing the three ships consistently gaining ground on the Rabbit II. "We know that he means business now. This information also identifies those three ships as the fastest and most heavily armed in his fleet. We know that Pressly most likely means to cause this ship's destruction. Is there any reason to give him the chance to fulfill his wishes?"

"I find it hard to believe that a man I was playing chess with mere months ago would now hunt me down and kill everyone aboard my ship just to guard his most ugly secret," Turney said and raised a single finger when Max looked ready to retort. "But this information, stolen from Pressly's own databanks, is most convincing. You and your people have done their part, Toby. For that, I am very grateful. With your assistance, we were able to board that ghastly mock-up, that soulless ghost of a ship, and learn the secrets behind Pressly's master plan. For that knowledge, the man now hunts my ship. Perhaps planning her destruction. But, before I can bring myself to do harm to those three vessels, I must see proof of these dark intentions myself. I can not rely on words and numbers. You must understand."

Thibodeau nodded his head slowly up and down and turned toward Max. "Mr. Turney knows his ship's capabilities. He knows what it can and can not do. If he thinks he can match up against the Blue Christmas, the Lonely Street and the Cellblock, three of Pressly's strongest vessels, then who are we to argue?"

Max began to protest but found himself staring at another raised finger. "Max, I can see it in Mr. Turney's eyes. He has a confidence in this ship that comes with knowledge about it's capabilities that we do not have. I say, let him see this through. It's his ship. "

"Jesus, Toby," Anita said and gave a short laugh. "I know he hasn't paid us for this gig yet but…this is ridiculous."

"I don't think so," Thibodeau said and turned to face Turney. "I think the owner of this Rabbit has a trick or two up his sleeve."

# # #

Curry grabbed a hold of the cushioned backing of his captain's chair as the ship accelerated at speeds that were in the red on the engine's specs. Dammit if they shouldn't have already run the Rabbit II dry by now but the little ship just kept going. It would slow, allow them to gain, and then accelerate again against all possibility. It was very frustrating to say the least but the threats to be done with this thing had continued to spew forth from Aaron Pressly's mouth, goading him on, making him push his ship harder, to the limit.

The old bastard was really being a son-of-a-bitch now, right here at the apparent end of the chase, and Curry was more than determined to shut the old fool up, collect his vast riches and escort Pressly into deep space before starting his own life over again on some resort world with enough money to retire comfortably on.

If only the Rabbit II's engines would give out already, the smaller ship just shouldn't have been able to run this long. "Tyler, what's the range?"

"Captain, the range to Rabbit II has not changed since the last time you asked," his First Officer snapped. "Still too far away for our missiles to be effective."

"You're sure that they've identified us, Curry?" Pressly wheezed.

"Yes, sir, they know who we are," Curry said quickly, annoyed at the distraction. "We've made no secret of our identity due to our confidence that we'd be through with them shortly. You might want to hail them, sir, ask them why they're running when you only want to talk."

Pressly darted an evil look toward Curry, stung by the words. Curry knew full well that the old man would not be able to look his former friend in the eye and then nonchalantly order his execution. "Just get closer, you fool, and we won't have to. What's wrong with this ship? Where does all my money go to? You told me that we could catch them…a long time ago, I might remind you."

"We'll catch them, sir," Curry said and absentmindedly wiped a bead of sweat from his right temple. "We'll catch them just as…"

"Sir, the Rabbit II has initiated communications," a voice called from a console behind the captain's chair.

"Patch it through," Curry said and glanced over to see Pressly stiffen. Suddenly the scene of space and the small outline of the Rabbit II disappeared. In its place was Glenn Turney's face.

"Aaron? What's the meaning of this? Why are you chasing us?" Turney asked, the dreadful look on his face made Pressly turn away.

At the uncomfortable pause that was created by Pressly's reaction, Curry responded. "You should know by now the purpose of this chase, Mr. Turney. Surely you could not have risen to such a successful position if you were not able to figure this out."

"I want to hear it from Aaron Pressly himself if you don't mind, you second rate excuse for a ship's captain," Turney snarled.

"Turney," Pressly rasped. "That's a hell of a way to talk to your killer. You have no hope, why don't you just cut engines and let this happen nice and quick so I can go on back and enjoy the rest of my life in peace?"

"So it's true, then," Turney stated. "You aim to destroy this vessel…just as you ordered the original Rabbit destroyed?"

# # #

Pressly gasped and felt his heart tighten in his chest. How had the man found out? How had he known?

"No need to answer, Aaron," Turney said. "I see the truth on your face. I just wanted to make sure for myself before I sent you to an early death."

Curry laughed at that and managed to speak through the rage that had threatened to overwhelm him upon Turney's insult. "Your meager ship has no hope against these three vessels, Turney. You are clearly overmatched."

"Quite so, it would seem, when looking at the schematics of a normal example of a ship of this class," Turney said. "But need I remind you that several of my subsidiaries specialize in military weapons development, warship upgrades and engineering design?"

Pressly felt his heart skip a beat, then another, and his breath was starting to come in slow raspy gasps.

"Oh, please, Aaron, don't die just yet," Turney said. "I want to have the pleasure of killing you myself. That's the least of my vengeance, you murderous bastard! When you ordered the destruction of the Rabbit, you didn't kill me as planned, but you managed to murder a thousand of my best and brightest employees. People who counted on me to protect them. People whose families are without fathers, mothers, sons and daughters because you wanted to save your petty little empire. A pathetic fool you are to say the least, Aaron."

"Kill him," Pressly whispered as his red-lined and rheumy eyes settled on those of Glenn Turney. "Kill him, Curry! Kill him!"

"They are still out of range," Curry spat.

"Oh, are we?" Turney asked. "Let's fix that."

Suddenly the Rabbit II decelerated so rapidly that all three of Pressly's ships shot past unable to react quickly enough to the daring move. As Pressly, Curry and the crew of the Blue Christmas panicked on the bridge, trying in vain to turn their ship around or target their weapons systems on the Rabbit II, several very small objects were jettisoned from Turney's ship, accelerated at great speed toward Pressly's little armada and simultaneously made contact with their hulls.

Pressly felt a moment of great heat as his eyes were blinded by the purest white light he had ever seen just before his world went black.

# # #

On the bridge of the Rabbit II, Tobias Thibodeau removed the hand that was covering his eyes from the glare that had filled the viewscreen a moment before. The destruction of all three of Pressly's ships, all of them large, within a millisecond of each other had caused the large screen to be overwhelmed before the auto-glare reduction could kick in, immediately causing it to turn itself off.

Now the screen snapped back on, showing an instant of black and white fuzz, before resuming its view of the scene directly ahead of the Rabbit II. Bits and pieces of the three ships that had been chasing them were twirling in space, spitting bits of fire out into the vast background of stars. Turney's ship had accelerated rapidly backwards when the ships had been destroyed, putting some much needed distance between them and the ensuing explosions. Still, the tiny pings of metal bits could be heard bouncing off of the hull immediately outside the bridge. Thibodeau looked up at the sound with a worried glance and Turney laughed. "Don't worry, Toby, that trash won't penetrate this hull."

"You seem confident of that," Anita said.

Turning toward Salazar, Turney touched her hand lightly and said, "I am."

In his right fist, Glenn Turney held the final bit of information that had brought him to the unfortunate decision he'd just made. Two minutes prior to putting in the call to Pressly's Blue Christmas, Martino Velez, one of the musicians, had burst on to the bridge with a new set of flimsies. The one on top detailed the deal that Pressly had made with the pirate ship to destroy the original Rabbit a few e-years ago. In full detail, ripped from the heavily guarded electronic files of Aaron Pressly himself. Velez had run the information to the bridge and Turney had gasped.

Since the destruction of the Rabbit, Turney had visited Pressly several times aboard the Hound Dog. Had played various games of skill with the man, had held many a conversation with him about the current state of InterGridactic business and where the U.E.N. economy was headed over the next decade.

He had become better friends with him, had thought himself a member of Pressly's inner circle, had thought that the two of them were closer than mere business competitors. But that single flimsy had brought to him such a rage, a complete and utter hatred of Pressly and what his three ships signified.

Of course, there was no reason to suspect that Pressly knew of the Rabbit II's upgrades or new weapons technology. No reason to believe that Pressly had any fear whatsoever of the fleeing Rabbit II.

The old man's confidence had betrayed him and now Aaron Pressly was no more. Turney sighed at the memory of the man who he had thought a friend and handed the flimsies back to Velez. "Take these, please," Turney said. "I've seen what they hold and would live my life out very peacefully if I never lay eyes on them again."

"Of course, Mr. Turney," Velez said and shot a questioning glance at Thibodeau. Tobias nodded and Velez took a step back, allowing Thibodeau to move in closer to the Rabbit II's owner.

"This is one amazing ship, sir," Thibodeau said, breaking the awkward silence aboard the overcrowded bridge. "I don't even think I felt the slightest bit of pressure when she decelerated so rapidly before."

"That's because she's been redesigned with…" Braithewaite started but Turney held up a hand for silence.

"No need to bother with small talk, my friends," Turney said. "I just ordered the deaths of many people on those three ships. Not just that bastard Pressly. Of course, we really had no choice. They were going to destroy us, Pressly as much as admitted that."

"He even ordered his captain to kill us," Max said. "I heard him say it. You had no choice."

Turney paused and a small smile came to his lips as he looked at Maximillian Gun'jhur. "I know that, Max. Believe me, I know."

"You will need to report this to the nearest U.E.N. Outpost, Mr. Turney," Thibodeau said. "We'll all make official statements of what transpired here today. We'll also make ourselves available if you need witnesses through any future…proceedings."

"Thank you, very much for that," Turney said. "And for digging up that awful information. I don't know how you were able to do it from here, this ship, so small in the overall scheme of things. But I do thank you. Now I can finally report the facts to the families of all those employees killed when the original Rabbit was destroyed. That incident has played havoc on my emotions these past several e-years, of that there is no doubt."

"It was no problem, sir," Velez said and Turney nodded toward him.

"Actually, I don't know how effective our testimony will be for you, Mr. Turney," Max said. "We might be considered by the courts as valued witnesses since we don't actually work for you or any of your business entities but, then again, we were in your employ during this trip which might taint our testimony as biased."

"It makes no matter," Turney said. "All that transpired during our discussion, Pressly and I, was recorded in this ship's computers. Pressly's admission that he was chasing us to our supposed deaths. His orders to Captain Curry to kill us…or me, I should say. All was recorded. There will be no need for a formal inquiry or for even the merest of legal proceedings. Especially with the information that you researched on what happened to the original Rabbit. I might even be invited to a share in the vast Pressly wealth as compensation. A nice healthy share, to be sure."

"At least you have closure now, Mr. Turney," Thibodeau said. "Some of us aren't ever so lucky. The truth can sometimes work wonders."

"Such wisdom from a musician," Turney said and laughed. "And for Pete's sake, my name is Glenn."

"All right then, Glenn," Thibodeau said and took Turney by the arm. "I may be a musician, one with just a tiny bit of wisdom, but my lecturing is over for today. How about we all go back down to the Officer's Banquet Hall and my band mates and I will play a short set all for you. At no extra charge."

Turney laughed again and raised a hand to Thibodeau's high shoulder. "Charge me all you like, Tobias, with what you and your people did for me today…I've decided to triple your fee. Press me a bit more on the matter and I'll quadruple it. Agree not to play anything by Aaron Pressly's favorite musician, the one whose songs all of Aaron's ships were named after, and I might just quintuple it."

Thibodeau stopped short, glanced at the smiling members of his band scattered about the bridge, looked back down at Turney and stuck out his right hand. "Glenn, my friend, you've made our little group happier than you'll ever know. Let's shake on it, you've got yourself a deal."