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_For the Children_

Pounding down the corridor, Vance's pulse throbbed to the rhythm of the hull-breach alert. Pressure doors were already coming down.

"JACK, what the hell's going on up there," he shouted to the empty air. An inhumanly fluid voice replied, "We have been boarded by two Xenic troop pods. They have breached living areas five, seven, and cargo two. All of my internal sensors there have been deactivated. Tactical estimate: three minutes until they burn through bulkheads into Central Shaft."

"I won't let them take back those children. Load the kids into the escape pods, and start launching them, random dispersion. They can't recapture them all, and if I survive the next few hours, I'll pick 'em up later. Download the trajectories into my comp, encrypted."

"Automation engaged" replied the ethereal voice. "Last pod should be away just after Central Shaft breach."

"Great. I've got one last job for you, JACK. A going-away present for our uninvited Xenic guests. As soon as my pod clears the blast radius, blow the core."

"Confirmed." Pause. "Goodbye, Vance."

"Goodbye, JACK."

As he strapped in, Vance reconsidered his profession. The slave trade just didn't pay well enough for these headaches.

(I wrote this back in August 2002 to see if I could tell an interesting story in 200 words. That was 195, or 198 counting the title. Hope you liked it.)

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