Captain Marced stood on the bridge, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen. The other ship loomed large and ominous, its parallel course seemed unnatural and somehow forged. He had never flown any formation with a Horon ship. He had only seen them in battle as worthy enemies, bearing down and looking for the kill. And he was used to looking for the kill too.

Even now, under the flag of truce, Marced’s eyes were fixed on the port nacelle. He was thinking of how easy it would be, right now, to knock out their engines and leave them adrift in space.

All of the battles fought with the Horon have been bitter ones. Hundreds of thousands of lives had been traded at the altar of war. The Horon, floating along with its defenses muted, was a tempting target. Over time, hatred had seeped into Merced’s character.

The captain tapped the tactical console. The weapons array was idle…waiting. It’s target awaited a volley. It’s operator fought with a single thought.

“Peace is…unnerving.” Captain Merced breathed.

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