Chapter 3: Success

  Once they were safe in hyperspace, Riordan and Jaisen secured their passenger in the small medical bay and let the Auto-Doc do its job.

  "Nice of your Dad to upgrade your Auto-Doc," Jaisen said as the machine went to work, administering meds and scanning the patient for further injuries or medical conditions.

  "Yeah, nice of him. Syddel said the ransom was short. What do you think he meant? Was he looking to start a fight?" Riordan pondered aloud.

  Jaisen caught his eye. "The possibility exists that he was trying to start something. But at the same time, it’s possible that the ransom was… short."

  "You think my dad set us up? I could have died," Riordan stated.

  "But you didn’t. We have luck on our side, we always have. How many deals have gone south on us? How many times have we barely escaped from sticky situations when by all expectations, we shouldn't have?" Jaisen pointed out.

  "My father is a career fleet officer. He doesn’t believe in luck," Riordan said, turning away.

  "He believes in you, though."

  Riordan ruminated over the various possibilities during their flight to the secret rendezvous coordinates. Both possibilities held equal weight. Syddel is a pirate, and they aren't known for their integrity. Commodore Koenig is a fleet officer whose job is to weigh the cost of resources against possible gains. Would his father have willingly put him in a dangerous situation, trusting that he would succeed? He would have accepted the job even if his father were open about the ransom being short. Riordan hated pirates. Did his father trust that his experience and expertise would carry him through? That’s a hell of a risk to take. He'd done nothing to give anyone an ounce of faith in him. He failed at everything his old man wanted him to do. As a bastard to a first-rate Citizen officer, his father called in many favors to get him accepted into the fleet's prestigious flight academy.

  Riordan frekked that up by disobeying a direct order. Only his father's influence kept him out of prison. Instead of taking an easy clerical position as an aide to a political friend of his father’s, he remained adamant about making his own way in the galaxy. Jaisen handed him one of the fancy self-heating pre-made military rations that had been part of the re-supply, but he ignored it. He watched the footage from his helmet and exterior ship cameras over and over. He fed the audio through a translator, but the pirates never mentioned how short they were, but they also didn’t talk about screwing them over. A few hours later, Jaisen informed him they were only a few minutes away from the rendezvous. With a twist of reality and a groan, the Passive Swindler dropped back into normal space. They were a few thousand kilometers short of the actual coordinates as often happens. Stars and systems are in constant motion, and every variable is considered when the Navcomp calculates a course. Newer Navcomps had better error correction protocols.

  The Swindler floated in the dark, all exterior lights off, and ion engines reduced to standby.

  "Passive sensors only. Sweep out to 5,000 Km," Riordan ordered.

  Jaisen looked quizzically at his friend, concerned about his mood. "Detecting several ion trails in standard patrol pattern. The newest is several hours old. They head off a bit to dextral. Think that's them?"

  Riordan thought for a bit. "Might not be. Maintain radio silence. Blackout mode. Keep sweeping with passive sensors," Riordan said as he brought the defensive cannons online. They drifted in the dark, waiting for the timer to run down.

  "How much time do we have?" Riordan asked.

  "14 minutes. Nothing on the scopes."

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  Riordan started flipping switches and typing commands into his control panels. The Swindler's exterior lights cut through the darkness, and a subtle vibration began to build as the engines came to life. "Full power multi-spectral scans, 360° coverage. Look for tachyons or temporal distortions."

  "Roger," Jaisen replied, fingers dancing across the controls. He leaned over and manipulated the console next to him. "Defensive shields at 50%, navigation shields deployed and angled."

  Riordan fed power to the engines, the inertial dampers compensating for the slight sense of acceleration. "Let's go to them. Put that ion trail on the HUD."

  The main viewport HUD flickered to life, a purple-shaded path superimposed on the clear glass.

  They followed the trail for a while when Jaisen's sensor console bleeped, alerting him to a hit. "We have an area of concentrated thermal radiation about 5,000 km dead ahead."

  "Roger," Riordan said, flipping controls on his coms panel. Nearly every vital system on the ship's small bridge had at least the most important controls duplicated on the myriad of panels and screens arrayed around his captain's chair. If necessary, Riordan was more than capable of flying the Swindler and maintaining her systems by himself. Even he would admit if asked, that it was easier and less stressful with some assistance.

  "Squawking Ident, once," Riordan said.

  Jaisen watched his screens. A ping sounded from the comms panel as a blip simultaneously flashed on his screen. "It's an FRS destroyer, the Lancaster."

  "Any other vessels in sensor range?"

  "Negative," Jaisen replied. "They are ordering us to take our weapons offline and to lower our defensive shields. They are sending a patrol craft to escort us in. We are cleared for landing in hanger two."

  "Roger," Riordan said. "Lower defensive shields. Powering down weapons."

  Riordan sent Jaisen back to inform their passenger that she was almost back in the hands of the FRS. When she first woke, she was terrified and frantic. It took a considerable amount of time to convince her she was safe and on her way home. Jaisen pressed the call button on the panel outside the old passenger suite installed by a previous owner of the Swindler. He could have entered the access code, but he thought it was important to give her privacy and space. She has spent the entire journey in her room since being cleared by the Auto-Doc. The hatch opened a crack, and she peered out cautiously.

  "Yes?" she asked.

  "Ma'am, we are approaching the FRS destroyer Lancaster. They’ll take you home from here. It'll be about 30 minutes. Are you hungry? Is there anything I can get you?"

  She thought for a moment. Jaisen could see the faded bruises on her face and felt dark anger for the pirates that mistreated her. He hoped they were still struggling to regain control of their ship. His only regret was that they didn’t kill more of them.

  "No, I'm fine." She looked down. "Thank you for all you've done. Really."

  Jaisen blushed. He wasn't used to being on the right side of things. "It was our privilege. It felt good to have a chance to hand out some justice to those thugs. Oh, when you hear the alert on the P.A., strap in, for safety, ok? It won't be long."

  Jaisen returned to the bridge and resumed his station.

  "How's she doing?" Riordan asked.

  "She still seems pretty shaken up. It's going to take a long time and a lot of therapy before she feels safe again." Jaisen said, checking readouts and screens.

  Riordan said nothing. What could he say? The poor woman had been through hell.

  The patrol craft remained off their port aft as the Swindler cruised slowly along the length of the destroyer's hull. Riordan admired the larger ship's sleek lines and profuse armament. Cannon pods and missile ports decorated her hull in strategic locations, providing 360° of defensive and offensive fire. The Lancaster was relatively new to the fleet and was the first destroyer of her generation.

  He had only been qualified to pilot frigates, corvettes, and various smaller craft like the patrol craft that escorted them. It had always been his fantasy to pilot a destroyer or the yet larger cruiser. However, as a Subject, his options were limited to the smaller ships, usually older models, in secure non-strategic systems.

  Flight control gave them their final docking authorization, and the Swindler followed the patrol craft, the Hermes, into the hangar. The hangar was immense. The Swindler settled onto the deck as crew members with fuel and supply lines ran forward. The crew of the Swindler escorted their charge to the rear airlock and handed her over to a pair of guards and a group of medical personnel. Riordan managed to avoid any overly emotional thank-yous by heading to the enlisted mess.

  Jaisen transferred the necessary files to the doctor's tablet and assisted the hangar crew with bedding down the Swindler properly. His holocon beeped, notifying him of a message. It was Riordan asking him to meet up in the enlisted mess when he was finished.