He'd been tracking the smuggler since leaving Australian space, and finally caught up with it here in the Midgard system. "Look out," I whispered to him. He had one flaw as a pilot. He was too caught up in the single combat, to pay enough attention to what else was going on around him. It hadn't matted when he had a squadron behind him. Now it was too late. The three pirate fighters appeared as if from nowhere. He'd barely begun to turn, when his prototype Privateer ship was struck by pulses from three different ships behind him, as well as two missiles. His ship disintegrated. One more Hunter gone. I stood there in space, pondering the debris, wondering if I should have made sure he survived. Or not. Twelve wasn’t there. One wasn’t there. No-one popped in to tell me I'd screwed up. Disappointing. Not all Hunters were considered valuable. But after a short while, I became aware someone was there. "Hello Ninety Nine," I said. "Thirteen isn’t it?" "Yes." "One of yours?" Now visible to me in avatar form, she indicated the debris field.
