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"Tommy this is a terrible idea!"
"Ranboo I am hurt, this is my best idea yet!"
"You and I have wildly different ideas of what constitutes 'best', at best we're going to get kicked out of the Academy and prosecuted for theft of Stellaris property - and more likely, we're going to crash into something and die!"
The blonde turned to look at him, rolling his eyes, "Ranboo we're going into space. What are we gonna hit?"
"Oh I don't know - a meteorite? Space debris? Another ship? How did you even get ahold of Admin Access cards anyway?"
"I have a contact up in one of the repair crews - this one came in for service yesterday, they finished early and he owes me a favour."
"Does he owe you a favour or did you badger him until he gave up?"
"Same thing!" Tommy protested, "Now are you coming or are you gonna stay down here and cower like a pussy?"
"Cower like a pussy, thank you," Ranboo said promptly, but when Tommy started moving again he followed regardless. Tommy had amount as much sense as the average squirrel, and even less impulse control, so someone needed to balance it out. If he wasn't a natural raw talent and consistently top of his classes, he was sure Stellaris would've quietly discharged him already from the program. As it was, he suspected Tommy was on the track for Captain - they'd stick him on the deck of a ship near the Frontier, let it get his head straight, and then when he'd matured no doubt Ranboo would be answering to a Captain Innes one day.
Terrifying.
This was good practise at least, for the times he wouldn't be able to convince Tommy to back down from a harebrained scheme.
"Okay - there she is!"
The ship was small, a personal transport vehicle built for two - three at a squeeze, if someone perched on a lap. A century ago, something like this would've been worth more than most Stellaris crew earned in half a decade, and taking one on a joyride would be a spectacle, but since their treaty with the Gillarians had secured, they had become remarkably cheaper to build and fuel. You saw them regularly now - the Academy had dozens for student use, final years earning the privilege of being able to cross the belt to some of the trading stations nearby.
Ranboo wouldn't be able to afford one for years, of course, since the docking fees and personal flight licenses were now more expensive than actually purchasing the thing, but at least they'd be inconspicuous. Assuming Tommy wasn't bluffing when he said he could fly one, and they didn't crash head first into a convey ship.
Ranboo shuddered at the thought. He'd seen a few crashes in his life, accidents borne of horrible timing, system failures, or reckless teenagers going for a joyride in daddy's aircraft. You could build the strongest aircraft able to launch, and it would crumple like a tin can at those speeds.
He couldn't deny she was gorgeous, though. Gleaming metal, the Stellaris logo embossed on the side, port window winking at them in the torch beam, like she was inviting them in.
The actual owner of the craft would be able to access all the cool features like autopilot, on-board refreshments and surround sound speakers (or so he'd heard), but that required face ID and Tommy's stolen Admin card would only get them basic functionality. It made sense - locking autopilot meant that only trained pilots could even get it out the bay, you didn't want some idiot climbing in to look cool and accidentally shooting off into the depths of space.
Which was in the realm of possibility for them right now at this second.
"So you're sure you can fly this?" Ranboo checked for the fifth time since Tommy had woken him to incriminate him in his crimes, "I spent so long getting into the Academy, please don't kill us before I can graduate."
"So after graduation is fine?"
"Tommy!"
The blonde huffed, "Yes I can fly this! Techno showed me! I'm pretty sure he only did it to spite Dad, but it worked out great for me so he can be petty whenever he wants. Cmon, get in!"
Ranboo muttered frantically under his breath as Tommy popped the hatch, clambering into the pilot's seat without second thought. This mostly equated to 'oh god, how did I let him convince me to join his schemes again, this is going to end horribly', but were occasionally interrupted with 'this would really cool if it wasn't very illegal'.
He settled himself carefully into the second seat, more of a small bench than an actual comfortable seat, but then again these things weren't really designed for comfort. They were usually used for short and fast journeys, zipping between stations and between some of the closer planets, if you wanted to relax you'd use of the larger ships and hire someone else to drive. Like the difference between a jet ski and a yacht, except the comparison fell apart after that.
Ranboo peered over the dash as Tommy started to press things - it looked purposeful, but Tommy had always been good at bluffing. Something seemed to be happening at least, since the faint hum of the engine sounded, and lights flickered to life every so often. Ranboo settled himself firmly on the centre of the bench, reaching behind him for a set of straps.
"Tommy? Shouldn't you, you know, strap in?" he said nervously as Tommy showed no signs of doing the same.
"What, in case we get T-boned?" Tommy snorted, "Those things are for like, government checks right? They don't do anything they just need them there to look proper."
"I'm ninety percent sure that seatbelts do do something. Please?"
Tommy spun properly in his seat at that, looking decidedly unimpressed, "Boo, stop being a baby. We're going on a nice gentle cruise down to one of the trading ports, we're gonna see barely anyone."
The benefit of doing this at the Academy was Tommy was right - foreign ships needed clearance to enter Stellaris airspace, and they rarely let anyone but cargo ships and dignitaries through. The students and staff of the dock would be asleep, for the most part, since the Academy ran on Standard time, and since they were already registered with the Academy database, no one would stop them for questions. Hopefully. That was what Tommy claimed, at least.
But 'probably no other ships' was very different from 'definitely no other ships' and it didn't even begin to cover 'literally anything else they might run into'.
"If you get us killed I'm going to strangle you," Ranboo threatened, giving up on the seatbelt with a huff. If Tommy wanted a concussion so badly he could have it.
"You're gonna be begging me to do this again once we stock up - the night markets have the best stuff, Boo, I'm gonna introduce you to candy and it's gonna blow your mind."
"You're aware that we have candy in the outer fields, right? It's not just grass and livestock, we're just as advanced as the hub worlds,"
"Sure," Tommy waved off in a manner that said he absolutely wasn't aware of that, "Let's get this show on the road!"
Ranboo sent off a quick prayer to whatever god might be listening, and gripped the seat.
"Alright, let's go."
Most of the procedure for leaving the dock was automated - the doors to the first airlock door slid open, the ship shuffled down the rails it hung suspended on, and then the door behind them shut. The process always unnerved Ranboo, no matter how many times he did it - he kept picturing what would happen if something failed, if one of the doors didn't shut properly, if an engineer didn't leave in time. The void of space was a horrible way to go.
Since they were the only ones in the dock, part of that fear was alleviated, which would've been a relief if it weren't replaced by a dozen more nagging worries.
The engines shifted from a gentle purr to the full roar of motion as they were released, shooting out the second airlock and into the night. They didn't need the full drive, since their trip was so short, but it was still insanely fast to even think about. Technology really had come a long way.
Behind them, the Academy stretched out. The scale of the station was incomprehensible, even when you lived on it, an endless ring looping out into the distance, interlocked with vast connecting lines.
At any moment, he expected to hear the crackle of the radio, a demand from security to know their business, but it never came. Tommy's information must've been good, for the first time in his life - it wasn't a student vessel (those were kept rather more securely under guard), so they had no reason to question whether or not the true owner was in the cockpit.
Ranboo's nails dug into the leather as Tommy carefully brought them round, scanning the navigation system to ensure everything was calibrated right, before gently tipping the nose of the craft forward.
Technically, Ranboo would be able to drive this too. He'd done every pilot testing sim the Academy offered to first years, and he fluctuated between 8th and 5th place on most leaderboards. Tommy might have the sort of insane raw talent that came around once a decade, but Ranboo had spent his entire life training for this. If a life or death situation arose where their survival based on Ranboo's ability to pilot them away from danger, he would be able to get them back to the Academy.
It was just that he'd never flown an actual ship before, and their instructors had told them over and over that the real deal was too strange for any sim to perfectly replicate. He understood what they meant, just a little, as Tommy hit the thrust and they started rocketing towards the trading station. This was the smallest ship he'd ever been in - even the transport the Academy provided for field trips and the like was massive compared to this, large enough that it felt no different to walking down an Academy hallway.
With the developments they'd made in the centuries since the Great War had ended, space travel was now as mundane to most people as taking a plane back on the outer fields was. It was nothing to zip across to another country there, even in one of the least developed sectors of humanity, just as it was nothing to hop across to another planet here.
His grip on the seats loosened just a fraction, as the ship remained steady, Tommy's hands resting loosely on everything he'd need to avoid crashing into something. He'd worried that he wasn't taking this seriously, that he'd do something stupid like turn around mid flight, but it would seem even Tommy took their lives seriously. Good to know. He would make a fine Captain one day, if this was an indicator of how much he could mature when the scenario called for it.
Something beeped on the dash. The leather creaked as Ranboo restarted his assault.
"What's that?" he asked anxiously, peering at the nav screen, which showed a foreign object nearby. All Stellaris ships were registered to the database, so it wasn't one of their ships. Meteorites and space debris had their own categorisation, neither of which were showing on the display screen right now. It was just an anomaly, a blip on the dash.
And it was coming closer.
"No idea!" Tommy said cheerfully, although Ranboo didn't miss the undercurrent of worry in his voice, "Let's speed this up a little, huh Boo? Just in case."
"Yeah, let's do that." Usually, Ranboo would've argued against going faster. This was not usually.
The blip on the dash sped up too. They were still ten minutes out from the trading station, no sign of life aside from this intruder. Ranboo really hoped it was a security ship whose registration had malfunctioned. He'd take being arrested and dragged back to the Academy over-
"SHIT!"
Ranboo startled so hard he bit right through his lip as Tommy yelled, rolling the ship over in a dizzying moment.
"What?" he asked, eyes scanning the dash, "What happened?"
"They fired at us! The system is really good, caught it in time - who the fuck are these guys??"
"Does this thing have cameras?" Ranboo questioned, looking round the cockpit like they might leap out at him. His heart had jumped to his throat, pounding painfully as he tried to breathe through the panic.
"Uhh I think so? Let me just-" Tommy fumbled a moment with the dash, pulling up screens and keeping one eye on the nav, "There!"
Several panels appeared, and Ranboo leaned forward to swipe through them. He focused in on the back camera, showing a blurry ship in the distance. He zoomed in, dread rising as the screen confirmed what he'd already suspected, from the first blip on the dash.
"Are those fucking-"
"Pirates," he confirmed grimly, "Can this thing go any faster?"
"How did they even get into the belt?? The Academy's regulations are-"
"Able to be bypassed." Ranboo finished, "Can this-"
"No, we can't go any faster! Not unless we go into warp, and then we'll go straight through the station. We're… eight minutes out. Do you think this thing has guns?"
"How am I supposed to know that?" Ranboo demanded, "This was your idea!"
"You didn't stop me! You enabled me, really- FUCK!"
Tommy rolled again, and this time kept going, swerving to avoid the rain of fire down on their hull. Some hit, colliding with the metal with a horrific clang, but nothing vital seemed to be struck, and the pirate ship seemed stuck at their speed too.
"What do they even want?" Ranboo demanded, more to the empty air than to anyone specifically, "We're not a cargo ship, we don't have room for anything valuable!"
"They want us," Tommy said distantly, shoulders tense, leaning too far forward in his seat as they twirled dizzyingly, "They think we're rich idiots or something, hostages."
"How do you know that?"
He shrugged, "My dad does this occasionally. Under the table, you know?"
"No I do not know!" Ranboo squawked, "What do you mean your dad is casually a pirate? I thought he was retired!"
"He is! Well- he was retired for a bit and then he got bored. Why are we even talking about this? We're about to get kidnapped!"
"You brought it up!" Ranboo half-yelled back, "And will you put your seatbelt on now? We-"
The ship jolted so hard that Ranboo was flung forward, the straps round his shoulders preventing him from going face first into the seat before him. Tommy, who still hadn't put his on, had no such luck. He smacked into the dash with a dull clunk, and slumped in place, dead to the world.
Ranboo gave a screech of pure frustration and terror - he was never letting Tommy do this again!
The ship was still spinning - thankfully Tommy hadn't knocked into any of the controls, and they were going straight forward if nothing else.
The prayers that fell from his lips were garbled, as Ranboo unstrapped his own belt and clambered around the seats. Tommy was tall but lanky, so moving him was more a question of how to deal with that much body and not of strength. Ranboo had never been so aware of the passing of time as he was then, precious seconds slipping away as he practically hurled Tommy into the backseat and slid into place, taking a moment to strap himself in. He didn't have time to do the same for Tommy, but he didn't feel very bad about it. If he'd listened, they wouldn't be in this situation right now!
His breath came hard and fast as his hands hovered over the controls. He tried to throw his mind back to the classes they'd had on this, to the functionality of each dash and button and handle, but the logistics slipped away into the fog of panic every time he tried.
The sound of the ship being struck came over and over, harder and faster now. Ranboo wondered what the pirates must be thinking, watching them spin like a spinning top in the void of space. Wondered if they were laughing, picturing a panicked dignitary fumble with controls they pretended to understood to look cool.
Ranboo didn't even realise he'd reached out until the ship swerved, shifting under his grip like it was an extension of his body. There were no logistics here, no careful planning of which button to press and what degree this button needed to sit at - nothing but muscle memory, hundreds of hours on the sim decks, moving like he was a part of the ship, like he was the brain and the screeching metal simply slightly numbed limbs.
The onslaught slowed, the clang of open fire reduced to a few dull thuds. He didn't allow himself to celebrate - they were five minutes out from the station yet, and the pirates were showing no sign of slowing.
Ranboo would have to deal with this the old fashioned way then.
The benefit, you see, to coming from the outer fields was precisely what everyone deemed their greatest impediment. When you came from a community that relied on their hands and their wits, instead of the technology that had replaced most of both through the decades, you entered the fleet rather less enamoured with the right way to do things. The protocol for being intercepted by pirates was to flee, and to open return fire only if strictly necessary. Even if this ship had guns, Ranboo had no clue where they'd be, and no way to find out - which meant he was going back to the good old days of warfare.
Even if the pirates had known what he was about to do, they had no way to break nearly as fast - they must've been four times their size, and that took significantly more effort to drag to a halt than their tiny craft.
It shot ahead, as Ranboo pulled to as close of a dead stop as he could manage. He started again almost immediately, this time in pursuit.
The manoeuvre was risky - deadly, to a point. If he didn't pull it off. If he went too hard and shattered their own hull, or if he didn't hit at all and it was all for nothing.
Ranboo was barely aware of the blood trickling down his chin, from the lip long since split, as he tightened his grip on the controls.
If a hunk of metal could convey emotions, the pirate ship would've been dripping with confusion as Ranboo approached, unsure whether they needed to make a break for it, or if the pilot of this strange little craft had just lost their mind.
He grinned as they drew closer, drew up and-
Both ships shuddered hard as the edge of Ranboo's ship scraped against the base of the pirates, and then shot out from beneath, starting once more towards the trading station.
He risked a look at the cameras, pleased to see them starting the pursuit once more. The dash showed no indicator he'd hit anything vital of their own, and he wondered how long it would take the pirates to realise that their guns were down, scraped clean off their belly alongside most of his paint. There was a reason they'd discontinued that model when the Great War ended, why it was now only usually found in the most peaceful straits of the universe, the ones where guns weren't needed anyway.
The pirates chased for a minute longer, before peeling off and away, having clearly finally realised what he'd done. Ranboo grinned wider, as the trading station finally blinked into view in the distance, a tiny pale blob he knew would soon grow into a vast expanse of machinery.
A noise came from behind him, a pained groan.
"What the fuck happened?" Tommy asked, pushing himself up off the floor where he'd slumped. Ranboo threw a glance over his shoulder, snickered at the sight of Tommy's still dripping nose, smearing blood across his face.
"Rammed a pirate ship," he said nonchalantly, "Hows your nose?"
"Broken - sorry, what the fuck do you mean you rammed a pirate ship?"
"Wear a seatbelt next time and I'll let you see. We're almost there now, you might want to find a tissue. I don't think they'll take kindly to you scaring everyone looking like that."
Tommy's mouth fell open and flapped, rather reminiscent of a goldfish. "You what?" he managed again, "Ranboo what the fuck! You've been holding out on me!"
He shrugged, "You never asked. I think I've got the hang of this by the way, you're right, it's awesome."
Tommy continued to gape. Ranboo reached over to close his jaw.
"You're buying me so much candy for this," he added, "And next time I get to fly the ship from the start."
Well, if there was a next time. Ranboo decided he was also going to let Tommy explain what had happened to all the paint.