It was black. So very, very black. Flat, wide, and wedge shaped; but it was the deep, dark, blackness that struck her the most. Tracy recognised it for what it almost was immediately. The apparent Cobra Mk3 stood in the hanger before her, its passerelle extending invitingly to the floor from the rectangle of light marking the entrance.
The noise from the engines sent shivers down her spine. Different to the tones of ships she'd seen before. This was the sound of raw power. Not like other Cobras she'd heard which were more whine and rattle. Almost as if, that was it, it sounded old fashioned, she thought. In a good way though - she liked it. Reassuringly powerful and strong.
But the blackness. It was as if the ship was swallowing up all the light in the hanger. A black hole couldn't be any darker.
"Get yourself on board and strapped in," Morgan pointed her up the passerelle, and then to no one in particular, added: "This is Tracy."
She looked around to see who he was introducing her to, and found no one.
She reached the light at the top of the passerelle and found a series of big green arrows pointing her to a well lit cockpit. She could see nothing else, the rest of the ship was in darkness. In front of her a console flashed messages, communicating with traffic control it seemed.
"Requesting clearance."
"Please identify your crew."
"Only one, Mr Morgan de Nigh - owner."
"Stand by..."
From below Morgan's voice shouted up: "Minerva, use a false ident for clearance, the Feds might have a warrant on us both." Then a new message flashed on to the screen.
"'Now he tells me'"
Followed by confirmation of Morgan's fears from traffic control just as he entered the cockpit.
"Power down your engines, you are selected for random checks from border control. Federal agents will be joining you shortly."
"Hmm, that's not optimal," Morgan's voice said, joining her from behind.
"Should we leave?" she asked.
"Yes, we should." He jumped into the pilot's seat and strapped in, surprising her.
"I meant, should we leave the ship?" she corrected. "They're not going to let us leave the station now."
"We could abuse your diplomatic privileges," said a new female voice that made Tracy spin around in her seat to see who was there. There was no one there.
"I could try," Morgan replied, "but Tracy doesn't exactly count as diplomatic baggage."
"It would be entertaining to see how they respond to finding you though," continued the mysterious voice. "I suspect they would choose to ignore your diplomatic status and ..."
"Minerva! Use your time to find us a way out of this station, please," broke in Morgan. "We can catch up later."
"Oh please, you left me here with Lucy poking and prodding me for ten years. Do you not think I might have hacked into every control system in the place by now?"
"You blew up the bloody door," screamed Morgan, "that doesn't back up your claims of being a master hacker."
"I like explosions," the voice retorted. "I've missed making things go 'Pooof!'"
A whirring was heard behind them, and Tracy turned to see the passerelle sliding back into the ship and the green arrow she had followed earlier looked suspiciously like a large finger - but just one - raised as a sort of greeting.
"Speaking of which," Minerva continued, flashing up a screen showing activity outside the ship, "those border guards have arrived."
"Don't shoot them, Minerva!"
"Aww, you ruin all my fun."
"How do we get out?" Morgan asked, changing the subject.
"Oh that's simple. I've been planning for a big escape for a long time. Watch and learn, Commander."
The star port's transport mechanism clanged into place around the hull and began carrying it down the shoots towards the docking bay. On the screen Morgan and Tracy watched the border guards standing around the hanger impotent.
The comms buzzed to life once more, the traffic controller still sounded bored, but slightly more animated: "Mars and Minerva, you must not attempt to leave the landing pad or you will be destroyed."
"What's going on?" asked Tracy. "They're going to blast us into dust as soon as we appear in the docking bay!" She'd seen this unforgiving process play out as often as most others had. Station guns would destroy a Cobra Mk 3 before it even reached the airlock. They never missed. It was unforgiving and deadly.
"Your new friend has no faith," Minerva complained.
"Who the hell are you?" demanded Tracy. "And where the hell are you?" she added, looking around the darkness once more.
"That's Minerva," Morgan told her. "Rest assured, she has a very strong desire to stay alive."
The Mars and Minerva, blackest of black ships appeared on the landing pad to the surprise of nearby dock hands. They quickly scarpered. This was a Federation star port, and unscheduled launches only ever end in one way. They didn't want to be there when the light show started.
"Mars and Minerva do NOT attempt to take-off," went the traffic controller again. "Violation of launch protocol is punishable by ship destruction." The Federation's lack of tolerance for such petty crimes was the stuff of satire among Tracy's generation. It was severe, but they accepted it because it had always been so. Still, when it was someone else threatened by it, it was easy to not care. Not so much when you were strapped in to the co-pilots seat.
"We've got to get off this ship!" she screamed. "They're going to kill us!"
"Easy Tracy," Morgan placed a reassuring hand on hers. "Minerva has this under control." He smiled at her, and she didn't believe a word.
Minerva heard it too, and wasn't quite as confident as Morgan sounded.
"What happens next, Minerva?"
"Hmm, that depends if I'm talking to the master server in the control room."
"Err okay, and if you're not?"
"Then someone's freezer might be about to defrost rather violently."
They felt the clamps let go of the Cobra's landing gear which Minerva instantly retracted.
"Flight assist off," said Minerva in a sarcastic voice mimicking most ship computers. Morgan instinctively tightened his harness; Tracy, seeing him, did the same, and didn't let go. Her face now snow white in fear, her clenched knuckles like-wise.
"Final warning Mars and Minerva, redeploy landing gear and turn off your engines or we will open fire."
"Guys please," Tracy was pleading now, "just do as they say, I'll turn myself in."
She felt the nose of the Cobra lift slightly and the airlock came into view in front of her. Her entire body was shaking, in fear she thought, but then realised it was the vibration from those big engines. Warning lights began flashing around the landing bay and she saw workers running for cover, everyone knew what came next.
A quick glance at Morgan just added more confusion. He was busy flicking switches and performing what she assumed were pre-flight checks.
"There's no point doing those checks," she wanted to scream at him. "We're going to die before we get to the airlock!"