《The Zarkazian Incident》 Chapter 1: An offer you cant refuse Jaisen Folyn and Atticus Riordan, the crew of the Passive Swindler, raised their heads from their bunks as they heard the hatch at the end of their cell block creak open. ¡°Chow?¡± Folyn asked. "It can''t be, it''s too soon," Riordan said as he sat up. He ran a hand through his mop of brown hair, a hint of gray at the temples. Riordan listened carefully and thought he could hear four or five pairs of boots on the rough plasticrete. "It could be legal, though," Riordan added as he dropped off the top bunk and landed lightly on his slipper-ed feet. ¡°Why would they be coming back so soon? They were just here yesterday. Maybe we made bail?¡± Folyn said. ¡°Bail?¡± Riordan scoffed. ¡°We were looking at 25 years. I don¡¯t think bail is a possibility.¡± ¡°Frek! I told you this job was FUBAR from the start! I don¡¯t know why I listen to you!¡± ¡°You practically begged me to take this job,¡± Riordan retorted. The footsteps drew closer, echoing ominously through the empty cell block. Instead of the force fields used to detain prisoners in more affluent systems, in this backwater, the cells were made of thick plasticrete and steel bars ¨C obsolete, but still effective. They waited by their bunks, trying not to look expectant. The approaching party consisted of four guards in standard tan Department of Corrections jumpsuits and two smartly dressed Fleet officers in black uniforms, the color of Combat Forces Command. Riordan stepped up to the bars, his face barely concealing anger. ¡°Commodore Koenig, congratulations on the promotion. Come to gloat?¡± Riordan asked. The Commodore handed his ornate headgear and gloves to his assistant, a Leftenant Commander, and approached the bars. ¡°Leftenant Atticus Galileo Riordan. Seven cycles of honorable service. Discharged after a court-martial for failure to obey a direct order, destruction of government property, endangering the lives of crew members, and gross negligence in the line of duty¡­ among a host of other charges. I¡¯m not here to gloat, nor am I surprised to find you in a cell, yellow suits you,¡± he finished, waving a hand at Riordan¡¯s bright yellow prison jumpsuit. Folyn looked from Riordan to the Commodore and back. Despite the Commodore''s finer features and close-cropped gray hair, the resemblance was unmistakable. Folyn plopped down on his bunk with a groan, cradling his head in his hands. The two men stared at each other for several long moments. The Leftenant Commander instructed the guards to wait at the end of the corridor. Riordan watched the guards retreat. ¡°So, how¡¯s Mom?¡± He asked, sarcastically. ¡°Disappointed,¡± the older man replied. ¡°Glad I¡¯m living up to expectations,¡± Riordan said, leaning against the bars. ¡°Why are you here?¡± Commodore Koenig pondered for a moment. ¡°Private schools, tutors, a greased application packet to the flight officer¡¯s academy, and you turned out nothing more than a common smuggler and thief.¡± ¡°What can I say, Subject genes? Blame Mom,¡± Riordan replied, thumping his chest. ¡°Oh, I do, but not for your crimes. You inherited her stubbornness and independence, but also her potential.¡± ¡°Potential for what?¡± Riordan scoffed. ¡°Piloting troop transports or cargo barges for my entire career only to retire as a Leftenant with a 50% benefit? Then I was supposed to spend the rest of my life at a desk in some mega-corp building, punching in the same key sequence until my sedentary lifestyle and poor eating habits caught up with me. I¡¯m a Subject, Dad. I ain''t got potential,¡± Riordan said dismissively. ¡°Prison seemed like a viable alternative?¡± ¡°No, living my own life, writing my own destiny, seemed like a viable alternative,¡± Riordan retorted. ¡°But I guess three hots and a cot and all the crap holo-vids I can consume is still better than an office cubicle.¡± He paced back and forth, letting the awkward silence stretch. Commodore Koenig sighed. ¡°Your trial starts next week. You will be convicted. Your precious ship will be scrapped, and you will spend the next 25 years in a cell very similar to this one. Is that what you really want? Just say so, and I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡± ¡°What I want is irrelevant. I wanted to be important. I wanted to be someone who made a difference,¡± he leaned close to the bars and lowered his voice. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to spend my life supporting a government that unjustly pre-determined my fate by branding me as ¡®Less Than¡¯.¡± ¡°Son,¡± Commodore Koenig started to say. ¡°I¡¯m condemned because one of my ancestors, from a hundred years ago, stood up against injustice and fought a losing war against the FRS.¡± Riordan interrupted. ¡°You have to think outside the box sometimes, Atticus. Play the game while gaming the system!¡± ¡°Dad, look at me! I¡¯m in a jail cell in the armpit of the far side of the Greater Galactic Cluster. I don¡¯t even remember what the box looks like anymore!¡± Riordan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. ¡°If I may,¡± Folyn tried to interrupt. ¡°Shut up!¡± Both men yelled at him. Commodore Koenig thought for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m not here to help you. I know you like doing things your own way. I¡¯m here to ask for your help.¡± Commodore Koenig let the last statement sink in for a moment. ¡°You need my help?¡± Riordan laughed. ¡°You have a fleet at your command, staff, subordinates, and thousands of specialized troops of all types. Why would you need my help?¡± Riordan asked, skeptical. Commodore Koenig looked to the end of the hall. ¡°I need someone with your particular¡­ skill set. Someone I can trust, implicitly,¡± He lowered his voice. ¡°A simple exchange. In and out.¡± Riordan and Folyn shared a look. Simple was a four-letter word on the Passive Swindler. Nothing was ever simple. ¡°What do I get out of it?¡± ¡°All charges dropped. We¡¯ll arrange to pay restitution to the injured party, and once the job is done, a full exoneration for this offense,¡± Commodore Koenig replied. ¡°Hmm,¡± Riordan said, considering the offer. He continued to pace. ¡°I¡¯ll need my ship.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Folyn loudly cleared his throat. ¡°Fully supplied and equipped for the mission and my partner. I fly the ship, he does the tech work.¡± ¡°I can do that.¡± ¡°It needs to be a full pardon for all crimes, past and present.¡± Riordan hastily added. ¡°For both of us.¡± A look of consternation passed over the Commodore¡¯s face. He briefly conferred in hushed tones with his associate, pausing only to shoot his son a glare. The aide tapped in the air on the holocon display projected directly onto his retinas. Commodore Koenig returned to the cell bars.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°I¡¯ll need to make a few calls to confirm everything, but that should be within the realm of possibility. Are you on board, Folyn?¡± The Commodore asked him. Folyn stood out of respect. ¡°Absolutely, Sir! Commodore Koenig, Sir!¡± ¡°Good. It shouldn¡¯t be more than a few hours, and then I can brief you both on the mission parameters in full.¡± Commodore Koenig glanced around the empty cell block. ¡°Speak of this to no one.¡± Commodore Koenig offered Riordan his hand. Riordan grabbed it, pulling his old man into a full embrace through the bars. ¡°You have to agree to one stipulation, after this is all over, your mother would appreciate a visit to include a fancy dinner. Non-negotiable, understand?¡± Riordan smiled. ¡°Only if we can go to that fancy restaurant you hate so much. The one with the violin guy.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± Commodore Koenig replied. They said their goodbyes and exited the cell block with the guards in tow. Folyn waited until the hatch was closed. ¡°What. The. Frek!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°I know, right?¡± Riordan agreed. ¡°I wonder what the details are.¡± ¡°Your father is the Commodore of Third Fleet!?¡± ¡°Drugs, a bribe?¡± Riordan wondered aloud. He jumped up onto the top bunk. ¡°Naw, the old man is too straight for that,¡± he continued to muse. ¡°This isn¡¯t coming from him. This is above his pay grade. A Fleet Commodore can¡¯t pardon civilians.¡± The next few hours passed slowly. They ate the compressed nutrition bars the guards delivered at mealtime. Eventually, guards came to release them from their cell and escorted them to a spartan conference room a few levels above the cell block. Their personal effects and clothes were on the table in heavy vacuum-sealed vinyl packs, including Folyn¡¯s tool belt and Riordan¡¯s ancient slug thrower. They dressed quickly. Once finished, the guards returned with trays of real food, presumably from the staff¡¯s cafeteria. They tore into the trays with a vengeance. One could only eat so many fruit-flavored nutrition bars. As they were finishing their first meal as free men in weeks, the conference room door hissed open. ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Commodore Koenig greeted them before taking a seat. ¡°Sir,¡± Folyn returned the greeting, rising to his feet. Riordan remained seated, grunting past a huge bite of yolk-soaked toast in his mouth. ¡°You¡¯ve met Leftenant Commander Griffor,¡± Commodore Koenig said. Riordan stood, wiping his greasy hands on his pant legs and offering a hand. The Leftenant Commander ignored the offer and handed Riordan one of the tablets he carried. He handed the other one to Folyn. Leftenant Commander Griffor remained standing. ¡°This meeting never happened.¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor started. ¡°Those are your mission packets. Memorize as much as you can. Once this brief is concluded, they¡¯ll self-wipe.¡± He tapped on his tablet. ¡°Six days ago, a vessel traveling under a merchant ident visited a small research outpost on a moon around Chevros Prime.¡± The screens changed to a view of the Chevros system. ¡°It was a scheduled supply drop. Standard SOP. A few hours later, as the ship, the Zarkazian, was preparing to depart, the crew attacked and overwhelmed the outpost''s small security force and kidnapped one of the scientists.¡± The face of a pretty young woman in her mid-twenties appeared on the screen. Her lack of a temple tattoo marked her as a Citizen. ¡°What was the nature of the outpost''s research?¡± Folyn asked, ever the tech geek. ¡°Medical, pharmacological. They research an extensive array of projects which the nature of is completely irrelevant to this mission. The scientist wasn¡¯t even that important to their work. It was a favored assignment.¡± Riordan digested this last bit of information. Favored assignments were meant to pad the resume of people related to those in positions of power. ¡°Then why was she kidnapped?¡± he asked, raising his hand. Leftenant Commander Griffor sighed. ¡°She was kidnapped because of who she is. If I may continue.¡± He tapped on his tablet screen. ¡°Her abductors killed eleven guards and severely wounded a twelfth. They left him alive to deliver the ransom demand. 15 million credits, in well-used, untraceable chips.¡± Riordan raised his hand again. ¡°Boy,¡± the Commodore warned. Riordan grinned and sheepishly lowered his hand. Folyn released a slow whistle. Leftenant Commander Griffor glared at Riordan as if daring him to interrupt again. ¡°We want you and your associate to make the exchange. Once you have custody of the target, you will rendezvous with an FRS destroyer at these coordinates. Don¡¯t bother memorizing them,¡± he said, handing Riordan a data chip on a beaded chain. ¡°That contains the coordinates to the exchange and rendezvous locations.¡± Riordan put the chain over his head, carefully tucking the chip into his shirt. ¡°I assume once I input the coordinates into my navcomp, the chip self-wipes?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Who is this lady, and why is she worth fifteen million credits?¡± Folyn asked. ¡°That lady is Remalyn Arianna Tagmeyer, the youngest daughter of the Grand Chancellor¡¯s sister.¡± Riordan and Folyn exchanged a glance. ¡°Additional information you may appreciate, gentlemen.¡± This time, the image of a man appeared on their screen. He had longish dark hair, peppered with gray, a roguish smile, and several days'' worth of salt and pepper beard. It looked like a booking image. ¡°This is Roger Syddel, known pirate, thief, smuggler, and slaver. He regularly conducts business in the unaffiliated territories and recently has started working the edges of the Occupied Territories. That is until his latest venture into the FRS core systems. He¡¯s had multiple encounters with various law enforcement agencies and federal ships resulting in numerous casualties. We advise using extreme caution when dealing with this man. Do not deviate from the script. Deliver the ransom, collect the target, and leave.¡± ¡°What information do you have on the ship, the Zarkazian?¡± Folyn asked. Leftenant Commander Griffor tapped on his screen. Schematics and specs scrolled across their tablets. The Zarkazian was a Corvette-sized transport vessel retrofitted with enhanced propulsion and illegal weapons. It was faster and better armed than the Passive Swindler by far. The duo took a few moments to go over the information. ¡°We¡¯ve been in lock-up for weeks. Why didn¡¯t you come to us a few days ago?¡± Riordan asked. ¡°We needed time to prepare the ransom and coordinate the pardons we offered you,¡± the Commodore replied. Riordan leaned back in his chair. ¡°We weren¡¯t your first choice,¡± Riordan declared. The Commodore and Leftenant Commander Griffor shared a look. ¡°The Grand Chancellor wanted to send a team of highly trained special operations commandos to orchestrate the exchange to ensure a smooth transaction. Others,¡± the Commodore glanced at the Leftenant Commander, ¡°wanted to turn the exchange into a kill/capture mission to eliminate Syddel and his pirate crew. Cooler heads prevailed. This needs to be handled with care and precision by a disinterested third party. I recommended you. You have the skills and the reputation. Despite your current setback, you have a higher-than-normal rate of mission success. If you take a job, it gets done. Period. Most of the time,¡± he added with a wry smile. ¡°Interesting, I thought the government didn¡¯t negotiate with criminals and terrorists.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t, which is where you come in. If a disinterested third party wants to pay a ransom, that¡¯s up to them, but they will receive no support, endorsement, or encouragement from the government to do so,¡± Commodore Koenig said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not missing out on the ¡®Deniability¡¯ factor,¡± Jaisen stage-whispered in Riordan¡¯s direction. ¡°Fully aware. Expendability, too,¡± Riordan added with a knowing nod. No longer needed, he pushed his tablet toward Leftenant Commander Griffor. ¡°Let me get this straight. You want us to meet with a dangerous criminal mastermind in a desolate, ungoverned, region of space. Then, you want us to hand this man fifteen million credits? You fully trust that he will then hand over the target, unharmed, and allow us to leave, unmolested? If we can do all this, and survive, we get a clean slate, a full wipe?¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s pretty simple as jobs go,¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor said. ¡°There¡¯s that word again,¡± Folyn said under his breath. ¡°What''s to stop us from taking the money?¡± he finished in a more conversational tone. ¡°Honor. You¡¯re thieves and smugglers, yes, but you have honor. I have been closely following your exploits. As far as I can tell, you¡¯ve never committed an act of actual piracy as defined by law. Most of your grifts target corporations, wealthy concerns or individuals. You never smuggle slaves. On one occasion, you even ran a quarantine blockade, in the wrong direction, to deliver an experimental vaccine to the afflicted on Prana III.¡± ¡°It was just the formula and several hundred doses for care workers, they did the real work,¡± Riordan said. ¡±We weren¡¯t in any danger. We were vaccinated, and the samples were held in a level three containment unit.¡± ¡°The untested, unregulated, unauthorized experimental vaccine?¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor asked. ¡°The short of it is, if you take the job, it gets done. If you say you¡¯ll do something, you do it. For scoundrels, you have an inflated sense of integrity, and that¡¯s what we are relying on,¡± Commodore Koenig finished. ¡°What if you don¡¯t keep up your end? What assurances do we have?¡± Folyn asked. ¡°You have my assurances and my word. Plus, I already have your pardons in my possession. When you return with the target, all that remains to be done is signing and filing,¡± Commodore Koenig answered. ¡°Contingencies?¡± Folyn asked. ¡°Deal with them as you see fit. The use of deadly force is authorized. Priority is the safety and well-being of the target,¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor answered. ¡°Backup,¡± Riordan inquired. ¡°You¡¯re on your own until you rendezvous with the FRS destroyer. We can¡¯t have any government associations connecting this OP to us,¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor finished. ¡°Remember, the target is the priority, not the money, and not your ship. We aren¡¯t anticipating anything other than a smooth exchange. Syddel needs the funding. We¡¯ve been hitting his operations rather hard lately in the Outer Territories. Questions, concerns, comments?¡± Commodore Koenig asked. Chapter 2: Rendezvous True to their word, the Passive Swindler was fully fueled and stocked. The Commodore authorized the transfer of the ship to his destroyer. The med bay was upgraded with a newer model Auto-Doc in case the target sustained any injuries. Teams of technicians went through every system, making sure the ship was fit for the mission, but careful not to make her too pretty. Riordan and his father stood on the loading deck, watching crew members detaching lines and umbilici, prepping the old freighter for flight. The steady roar of the Swindler¡¯s engines filled the bay. ¡°Thank you for doing this, Atticus,¡± the Commodore shouted to be heard. ¡°Thanks for getting me out of jail,¡± Riordan shouted back. Smiling, he hugged his father. The pitch of the engines increased, whipping up a strong breeze in the hangar bay. ¡°Prayers for an easy run.¡± Riordan boarded his ship and made his way to the cockpit. ¡°Status report,¡± he requested, pulling the restraint webbing across his chest and buckling it into place. His hands danced over the controls with the ease of long practice and familiarity. ¡°Stocked, locked, and ready to rock! All systems are go for departure,¡± Folyn replied from his position. In their several years of partnership, Folyn was more than proficient at the operation of the Swindler. There were several brief occasions due to injury or incarceration when Folyn played Captain. Riordan pulled the data chip from his shirt and plugged it in. ¡°Prepare to receive coordinates,¡± he said. ¡°Coordinates received, inputting destination. FTL solution in 120 sections.¡± The roar of the Swindler¡¯s engines slowly died as the atmosphere was pumped out of the hangar bay. The outer door opened faster than something of its size should, revealing nothing but darkness. The hangar lights were too bright for stars to be visible. ¡°Control, this is the Passive Swindler, Delta Delta Two One Four, requesting departure vector,¡± Riordan purred professionally into his headset. "Swindler, this is Control, departure vector sent. Godspeed, and bring her home, Son," Commodore Koenig replied over the coms. Suppressing a smile, Riordan responded, "Roger that, Control. Swindler out. Jaisen, how long of a flight are we looking at?" Jaisen tapped a few controls. "We are looking at 36 hours, give or take, at max FTL. Longer if you want to add a few jumps for security." "Roger, as soon as we jump to FTL, I¡¯ll take the first watch. You get some rest. Let''s do this." He reached forward on his left, resting his hand on the throttle control as he pulled back on the control yoke with his right. The ship lifted several meters off the deck. Tapping the foot pedals expertly, he spun the Swindler to face the opening. He eased the throttles forward, and the Swindler slid into the inky darkness. Volunteering for the first watch, Riordan sent his associate aft for some rest. Not necessarily normal for freight operations, the pair long ago fell into the habit of setting at military-style watch. Six hours on, six hours off. Riordan monitored the systems and control boards making occasional adjustments as needed. Folyn relieved him at the appointed time. Before giving over command Riordan dropped the ship out of hyperspace and then jumped back in for security. An observer can project a ship''s trajectory and velocity if they observe the jump. The easiest way to defeat this is to drop out, and then jump back in. This conceals the true destination if you pre-plan and enter hyperspace heading in a direction not in line with your actual destination. Sketchy missions always made it difficult for Riordan to sleep. Without a sleep aid it wasn''t unusual for him to remain awake for 48 hours or more if the mission called for it. Riordan took his medicine and settled into his humble bunk just behind the command deck for some much deserved rest. Nothing significant happened and they traded shifts when the time came. An inspection was required per shift where a crew member walked all passages and checked all bulkhead doors for obstructions, and for leaks, or anything else out of the ordinary. If they were transporting cargo the cargo was inspected for shifting or anything unusual. The trip continued in a similar fashion until they neared the rendezvous point. Riordan elected to remain awake though it was his turn at rest. He ran diagnostics on defensive shields and weapons systems. He inspected his personal armor and weapons, just in case. He was going to make the actual exchange while Folyn remained on the ship to facilitate a hasty egress. "Ten mikes until we exit hyperspace, 10,000km short of the rendezvous point which is... empty space. Literally nothing." Folyn called over the com. Riordan was in the cargo hold inspecting the crates of credit chips strapped to a grav sled. "Roger," he replied. "The ransom is still secured. I''m going up to check the med bay and make sure its ready to go, just in case." Folyn shook his head. Riordan didn''t like to admit it, but he got nervous as showtime approached. Every. Mission. But once everything was in place he was in his element. The nervousness evaporated as if it were never there and he was cool, calm, and professional. Riordan was seated comfortably in his chair as the ship dropped out of hyperspace with a twisting sensation and a slight twinge of dizziness. "Passive Sensors only. We''re a bit early, let see if they''re here yet." Riordan ordered. While the sensors were doing their job he was going over the shields and weapons. He made sure they had a direct route to FRS space locked into the navcomp. Once the order was given it would only take 60 sections for the hyper drive coils to charge for the jump. "Sensors are reading a thermal signature and various spurious transmissions consistent with a ship the size of the Zarkazian," Folyn reported. "Alright, let''s do this. Sweep them once with the sensors, full power." Folyn complied and a few moments later the mystery ship responded with a message giving them instructions to park in their hanger. Riordan took manual control of the Swindler and headed in their direction. He reduced speed as they approached. ¡°Anything¡­ weird?¡± ¡°Nothing. No weapons activity. Shields lowered. Hanger lights on.¡± ¡°Well, let¡¯s do this then,¡± he said, aligning the Swindler with the hanger opening. The Zarkazian was easily ten times the size of the Passive Swindler, but having a hanger large enough for her was unusual. He expertly manipulated the controls to gently set her down in the middle of the hanger. It was very clean and organized, which was actually pretty normal for a ship involved in criminal enterprises but not what normal people would expect. There were two smaller shuttles modified with illegal weapons on the dextral side of the hanger and one small maintenance craft with various armatures and tanks mounted to the framework on the sinistral side of the hanger. They must store most of their cargo in a separate cargo bay as there was nothing else in the hanger aside from a few pallets of supplies and some neatly stacked crates. They sat there for a moment before the outer door of the hanger began to close. ¡°That¡¯s not cool. I don¡¯t like that.¡± Riordan said. A few minutes later Riordan descended the rear cargo ramp pushing the grav sled loaded with fifteen million credits, packed in sealed crates, ahead of him. He stopped just in front of his ship and waited.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Any communications from the crew?¡± He asked Folyn over the com installed on his helmet. ¡°Nothing after the instructions to present the credits for inspection.¡± Folyn replied. Riordan stretched his chest muscles, reassured by the feeling of his trusty slug thrower concealed behind his breastplate. If something went down, it should be enough to allow him to grab the plasma rifle he left at the top of the ramp, just in case. A small hatch on the far wall of the hanger slid open. Roger Syddel himself emerged and strode confidently across the hanger floor toward him. ¡°Are you alone?¡± Syddel asked. ¡°I have one crew member on board, but other than that, it''s just us.¡± ¡°Do you know who I am? I know who you are, Captain Riordan. You¡¯re the Hero of Pranna III, you ran a federal blockade to deliver lifesaving treatment for a plague, and refused payment, no less!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care. All I care about is making sure this exchange is conducted to the mutual benefit of each party.¡± Riordan replied, patting the grav sled of credits. Syddel whistled loudly to signal his followers. ¡°You know, they came to me first, Pranna III. How much did they offer, 50k, a hunert? I had to politely refuse as that wouldn¡¯t even cover my fuel costs, not to mention payroll, benefits, 401k contributions, you know. You¡¯re not very smart are you?¡± Riordan was about to answer with a witty reply but there was a commotion at the hatch. He leaned slightly to the left to see around Syddel. Armed rough-looking men approached. They wore a motley assortment of body armor and various other gear and dragged a hooded and shackled woman with them. The two men dragging the prisoner dropped her at his feet. Riordan crouched down to inspect the prisoner as Syddel¡¯s men began opening crates and scanning the credits. He pulled back the black hood from her face, revealing bruises and dried blood. She was having trouble remaining conscious. ¡°She¡¯s been abused!¡± Riordan accused, looking up at Syddel. ¡°She resisted,¡± he replied with a chuckle. ¡°Over and over and over,¡± one of the other men added with an evil laugh. Riordan waved a handheld scanner around her head, revealing no permanent damage and the presence of several sedative chemicals. He scanned the rest of her body, revealing contusions and other evidence of abuse. His blood boiled. He gently helped her to her feet. ¡°Jaisen, prepare to receive one in the med bay,¡± Riordan called over his com. ¡°It¡¯s going to be ok, hun. You''re going home.¡± ¡°Acknowledged,¡± Jaisen replied. Riordan turned with his charge to walk the 50 feet to the Swindler¡¯s ramp. They made less than a dozen. One of Syddel¡¯s henchmen barked something in another language, possibly Deutch or Franc. Riordan only knew basic and some curses in Chin and Hispan. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Riordan looked back over the slumped head of the woman at Syddel. ¡°I¡¯m stowing my cargo, what does it look like?¡± He took another few steps, ending up under the edge of the Swindler. ¡°You¡¯re short!¡± Syddel barked. Riordan stopped with his back to the pirates. The small hairs on the back of his neck prickled. One after the other, the whine of charging blast pistols and plasma rifles filled the awkward silence. ¡°What do you mean it¡¯s short? 15 million credits. I counted it myself,¡± Riordan growled. He knew they were going to pull something like this! His hand stole to the butt of his trusty slug thrower concealed under his breastplate. Frelling Pirates! ¡°Initiating plan B,¡± Jaisen whispered over the com. Riordan adjusted his grip on his charge, using the movement to hide the drawing of his slug thrower from its holster. ¡°Now!¡± he yelled, pointing his gun and throwing slugs in Syddel¡¯s direction. At the same moment, the navigation thrusters they had been standing under fired, belching out nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and xenon like a fog machine at a Karak festival. Plasma fire and blaster bolts screamed around the pair as he mostly dragged his charge up the nearby boarding ramp. He thought his rounds hit at least one henchman. ¡°I¡¯m going back for the credits!¡± he yelled over the comm, dropping the nearly unconscious woman to the deck. He grabbed the plasma rifle he secured near the hatch before the drop and rushed back down the ramp. ¡°Be ready to get us out of here!¡± ¡°Frek the money!¡± Jaisen yelled back over the com, but it was too late. Jaisen flipped switches and turned dials, bringing the ship¡¯s defensive plasma cannons online. Riordan used the cases of credit chips on the grav sled as cover, as the pirates laid down suppressive fire so their boss could escape the firefight. Credit chips rained down as Jaisen sent cannon fire screaming over Riordan¡¯s head, incinerating one of the henchmen as he popped up to fire at Riordan. The fog screen from the thrusters dissipated rapidly. ¡°Upper catwalk!¡± Riordan yelled after a sniper¡¯s bolt nearly took his head off while he was busy firing in Syddel¡¯s direction. Jaisen strafed the catwalk with a scintillating barrage of cannon fire. Riordan took advantage of the distraction and sprinted to a pile of crates. Aiming, Riordan fired a volley of plasma bolts at Syddel¡¯s retreating back. Syddel stumbled, grabbing at his right leg. Riordan¡¯s plasma rifle beeped loudly. He cursed vehemently as he slammed a new charge pack into the rifle¡¯s butt-stock. Plasma fire tore at the crates he hid behind. Riordan risked a glance. ¡°Where are they?¡± ¡°Four dead, two for you, two for me. Most of them retreated down the corridor with Syddel,¡± Jaisen replied. ¡°Two or three are using the crates by the main hatch as cover.¡± Riordan grabbed the handle of the grav lift and ran with it to the ramp, credits spilling out of the shattered containers. ¡°I got the credits, let¡¯s get the frek out of here!¡± The grav lift self-powered its way up the ramp as it rose to a closed position. Seconds later, Riordan stormed onto the bridge. He ripped his helmet off and let it drop to the deck. ¡°What¡¯s the holdup?¡± He asked angrily, stripping off his armored vest, trying to ignore the smoking crater that almost went all the way through. ¡°They closed the hangar door,¡± Jaisen replied, ¡°Remember!¡± ¡°Hijo De Puta! Shoot our way out,¡± Riordan replied, strapping himself into his captain¡¯s chair. ¡°It¡¯s armored. Our cannons wouldn¡¯t even make a dent,¡± Jaisen replied, hands dancing over the engineering console. ¡°Plus we have other issues. The Zarkazian outclasses us by a wide margin.¡± ¡°Not in all areas. We¡¯re smaller and more maneuverable,¡± Riordan replied, waking his console. The pitch of the engines rose as he added power. He pulled the data fob from around his neck, inserting it into the slot in his console. ¡°Uploading rendezvous coordinates into the navcomp. I need that door open! Can¡¯t you hack it or something?¡± A pair of pirates began firing from the hatchway of the corridor. Jaisen directed a barrage of cannon fire in their direction. The damage was impressive. The frame glared a dull orange and slumped to the floor. ¡°Already on it,¡± Jaisen replied. ¡°I¡¯m in their system. Truly laughable security.¡± Riordan lifted the Swindler a meter from the deck. The ship rotated to face the hangar door, the wash from her engines and thrusters tumbling crates and debris. ¡°Great, now get the door open!¡± ¡°They¡¯re spooling FTL!¡± ¡°If they jump with us in here, we¡¯re frelled!¡± Jaisen navigated through the Zarkazian¡¯s network. Network architecture varied little from ship to ship unless you were running a custom operating system. The first thing he did was grant himself full administrative permissions. Exploiting a well-documented security flaw, he deleted all other user profiles and permissions. ¡°I just locked them out of Navigation, life support, comms, pretty much everything. It¡¯ll take them hours to recover.¡± ¡°Great! They can¡¯t follow us. Let¡¯s make sure,¡± Riordan said, targeting the pair of armed shuttles on the far side of the hangar bay with the ship¡¯s cannons. Plasma fire lanced across the bay, striking the craft. The side of one shuttle caved in with a shower of sparks, and the other exploded. The shockwave rocked the Swindler. Fire blossomed from the stacks of crates and pallets of supplies. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the best idea, bossman,¡± Jaisen said. ¡°Why not?¡± "The refueling bladders were under the deck plates on that side of the bay." "Well, open the door and it won''t be a problem anymore," Riordan replied. Jaisen accessed the override controls, and the outer hangar door trundled open. He didn''t engage the containment field, allowing the atmosphere in the hanger to violently vent into space. Deprived of oxygen, the fires quickly went out. "All our problems solved!" Jaisen quipped from his console. The bay''s illumination panels flickered and went out. Riordan turned on the Swindler''s landing lights and slammed the throttle control to max. The Swindler rocketed out of the Zarkazian''s hangar. "Full scans," Riordan ordered as he pulled the throttle back a quarter, easing the strain on the old engines. "The Zarkazian is dead in the water. No pursuit. No other vessels within sensor range." "Prepare for FTL," Riordan announced, his hand hovering over the large red button. "All boards are green, navcomp coordinates locked," Jaisen replied, smiling. In a flash of blinding light, the Swindler''s FTL engines tore through space and time, propelling her and her crew into another dimension where physics and time were¡­ different. Chapter 3: Success 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."Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. 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¡ã 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¡ã 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. Chapter 4: Black Hand and White Star They were almost finished with their first hot meal in days when Leftenant Commander Griffor approached their table. "Heads up, trouble," Riordan said in a low voice. "Gentlemen, enjoying your meal?" Leftenant Commander Griffor asked. "Absolutely, much better than prison issue protein bars. What can we do for you, Leftenant Commander Griffor?" Riordan asked, dabbing a paper napkin at the corners of his mouth. "Congratulations on a successful mission. Commodore Koenig requests your immediate debrief," Leftenant Commander Griffor replied. "Lead on," Riordan said as he and Jaisen pushed their trays away and stood to follow the black-garbed officer. The destroyer jumped to hyperspace as they were following the Leftenant Commander through various hallways and corridors. Several crew members cast the motley pair curious glances. It wasn''t every day on a fleet ship that you saw civilians being escorted by a high-ranking officer. Leftenant Commander Griffor led them deep into maintenance corridors and opened the hatch to a non-descript strange room. Inside was a table, some chairs, and a few tablets. "Wait here. I''ll be back with the Commodore shortly." Leftenant Commander Griffor said. They entered the small room. Leftenant Commander Griffor sealed and locked the hatch behind them. They didn¡¯t have to wait long. The door reopened to admit Leftenant Commander Griffor and the Commodore. Two guards in black Shok armor, armed with plasma rifles, were stationed on either side of the door. Leftenant Commander Griffor closed and locked the hatch. They settled into their seats. Riordan led the debrief with military professionalism. He narrated the events of the mission blow by blow. He left nothing out. "¡­ and then we dropped out of hyperspace and rendezvoused with this ship." Riordan ended, setting his tablet on the table. Commodore Koenig looked at Jaisen, "In layman''s terms, explain what you did to their ship''s systems once you gained access." Jaisen nervously cleared his throat. "We didn''t have a lot of time for finesse, so I deleted their entire user account directory and shut down every major system to prevent them from being able to mount a pursuit. Simple but effective. It would have taken their engineer hours to regain access." "Outstanding!" Commodore Koenig turned to his aide. "I trust there are measures in place to prevent a similar incident happening on fleet ships?" "Of course, Sir," Leftenant Commander Griffor replied. "They were using the ship''s original industry-standard operating system with almost no security measures in place. It was mostly their fault. If they had a tech with even an entry-level knowledge of security, we may still be on the Zarkazian," Jaisen added, deliberately underplaying his hacking skills. "I told you he was necessary," Riordan said, bopping his comrade on the shoulder. Leftenant Commander Griffor consulted his tablet. "Captain Riordan, you risked your ass and brought back the ransom as well as the target. Good job." "Most of it. I took cover behind the crates and they got pretty shot up. How much was lost?" Riordan replied cooly. "Several hundred thousand credits unaccounted for," Leftenant Commander Griffor responded, letting a tinge of accusation creep into his voice. Riordan leaned back in his chair casually. "Better than losing 15 million," he said, trying not to visualize the piles of credits concealed in the Swindler''s shielded storage beneath the cargo bay¡¯s deep freeze. It was one of many modifications Jaisen made to the Swindler to keep them out of trouble. "This brings me to one last point. Syddel claimed the ransom was short, but I confirmed the amount myself. It was all there¡­ unless 15 million wasn''t the actual ransom amount. Did you send me to retrieve the target without enough ransom? Cause if you did¡­ that would mean you wanted the job to go south." "Son," Commodore Commodore Koenig said, watching the rage build in Riordan''s eyes. "We knew it would provoke Syddel. The Grand Chancellor wanted him eliminated," he admitted. "We could have died!" Riordan growled through clenched teeth. He no longer felt guilty for filching some of the ransom. "Hey, everything turned out fine," Jaisen said, placatingly placing a hand on Riordan''s arm. Riordan shook it off roughly. "I had confidence in your abilities, Atticus. You proved my trust in you wasn''t misplaced." "How? I retrieved the target, but Syddel is probably still alive," Riordan retorted. "For now," Leftenant Commander Griffor responded. "We had a frigate following you. It''s been over 48 hours since Mr. Folyn disabled their ship. The Zarkazian''s systems are still offline. The frigate stayed behind to make sure the Zarkazian didn''t try to follow you.¡± Jaisen paled and swallowed hard. "Uh, they should have been able to restore access by now." "We think one of the men you killed was their engineer," Commodore Koenig said. "What are you going to do? Are you going to rescue them? They can''t have much air left," Jaisen said. "Unfortunately, we don''t have any jurisdiction in the unaffiliated territories. We don''t have any ships close enough to respond. Officially," Leftenant Commander Griffor said, a satisfied smile on his lips. "You can''t just let them suffocate!" Jaisen yelled. Now it was Riordan''s turn to calm him down. "Easy, it''s better than they deserve. How many times do you think they raped that poor girl?" Jaisen reluctantly settled down. "Don''t feel bad. If they do regain control, the frigate has orders to destroy them. They die either way," Commodore Koenig added. Everyone stared at each other for a few moments. Riordan broke the awkward silence. "If the mission was completed to your satisfaction, we''d like to receive our payment and move on." Commodore Koenig nodded to Leftenant Commander Griffor and the latter produced two folders in official fleet gray and handed one to each of them. Riordan opened his folder to reveal the agreed-upon pardon signed by the Grand Chancellor himself. ¡°Full Grand Chancellory pardons absolving you of all crimes committed before this date.¡± The Leftenant Commander said. ¡°Full pardons, cleaned records. A fresh start, gentleman, in recognition of your service to the Republic,¡± The Commodore said. Having the actual pardon in his hands reduced Jaisen¡¯s anxiety about the fate of the Zarkazian¡¯s crew. He and Riordan shared smiles. ¡°However grateful the Grand Chancellor may be if you leave and frek up or get up to your usual shenanigans the new charges will stand. This mission never happened,¡± Commodore Koenig advised. ¡°So, what are your plans for going legit?¡± ¡°Security Consulting.¡± ¡°Cargo transport,¡± they replied simultaneously. Leftenant Commander Griffor leaned in, ¡°Bullshit, the second you break orbit from Prime you¡¯re going to be looking for your next score.¡± ¡°Frek off, Griff. You don¡¯t know me. Why are we going to Prime?¡± Riordan asked quizzically. ¡°The Grand Chancellor requested his niece to be hand delivered to her mother and you promised your mother some quality time, remember?¡± Commodore Koenig said. It took nearly a week for the Lancaster to reach the Prime system, the heart of the Greater Galactic Cluster. The crew of the Passive Swindler used the time to effect much-needed repairs, and upgrades, and tuned nearly every system on the small ship. Parts, tools, and the occasional free hand were readily available, likely due to his association with the Commodore. When the pair weren¡¯t fiddling about on the Swindler they were mingling with the crew. Admonishments were in place to prevent the discussion of recent events but nothing stopped them from regaling crew members at the canteen. They only slightly exaggerated tales of their adventures over a few cold ones. Gambling was forbidden on fleet ships but clandestine games of poker, blackjack, and even Kawahl, a complicated game involving ceramic tiles and dice, were common. They made sure to lose just often enough that their side hustle wasn¡¯t obvious. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The food was better than they were used to on the Swindler. Cargo hauling, smuggling, and thieving rarely equated to a posh lifestyle. Battle rations and pre-packaged box meals were the norm. The days passed quickly and before they knew it they were nearing Prime Alpha, the capital planet of the Greater Galactic Cluster and the FRS. Jaisen approached Riordan who was standing alone on the observation deck enjoying a moment of solitude and contemplation. A highball glass dangled from his right hand as he casually leaned against a support column. He was the holovid image of the roguish scoundrel. His tan cargo pants were tucked into his black mag boots and bloused. His pistol holster was slung low on his right hip held up by a well-worn leather belt adorned with a vintage CRS belt buckle. He wore his standard dark green shirt under his ever-present fleet gray pilot¡¯s vest. If only there were a breeze to gently tousle his hair, Jaisen thought sarcastically. ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± Jaisen asked, leaning against the other column. He joined Riordan in staring out at the crowded approach lane bustling with ships. Riordan paused mid-sip pointing with his glass. ¡°You see that ship, the YT class freighter? That¡¯s the kinda ship we should be flying. Twice the cargo space and triple the range.¡± Jaisen chuckled. This was a well-known and time-honored trope in their relationship. ¡°You¡¯ll never let her go, Atticus, not until she¡¯s shot out from under you. Even then, I expect you¡¯ll die sitting in the captain¡¯s chair trying to figure out some way to turn a pair of twos into a full house.¡± ¡°She¡¯s not the fastest ¡­¡± Riordan began. ¡°¡­ or the best looking,¡± Jaisen continued. ¡°¡­ but she is home!¡± They finished in unison raising their drinks in a toast to their ship. At that moment Leftenant Commander Griffor cleared his throat behind them. They had seen very little of the taciturn officer or his superior in the past week. ¡°Oh, look! It¡¯s Leftenant Commander Griffor. Where have you been the whole trip?¡± Jaisen asked, turning. Griffor addressed Riordan, ¡°Commodore Koenig requests your presence. Both of you,¡± he said, glancing at Jaisen. They shared one last look at the stream of ships with the dazzlingly bright capital world as a backdrop before moving to follow. They paused at a manned checkpoint where the duo was required to check their weapons before Leftenant Commander Griffor led them down an endless maze of passageways and corridors. ¡°Aren¡¯t officers usually quartered between decks three and five?¡± Jaisen asked, pushing his limited knowledge of the fleet to its limit. ¡°Assigned crew, yes. Commodore Koenig is traveling as an unofficial guest, like yourselves.¡± ¡°Ah, unofficial, we forgot,¡± Riordan said. They could feel the vibration of the destroyer¡¯s powerful engines as they followed the officer aft. The already sparse d¨¦cor gave way to utilitarianism. Eventually, they stopped near a maintenance hatch. It groaned open and they followed the Leftenant Commander inside. The room was small and poorly lit. It was furnished with a small metal table surrounded by folding metal chairs. A single light emitter shone at half power. Riordan was instantly suspicious. ¡°What the frek is going on, Griff?¡± he asked, voice dangerous. Jaisen picked up on his anxiety and moved to Leftenant Commander Griffor¡¯s flank. ¡°Sit,¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor indicated to the unoccupied chairs as he chose one for himself. He unbuttoned his uniform tunic and pulled out a small dull metal flask. He stared at Riordan as he unsecured the small cap. He took a long pull as the other two men took their seats. ¡°So, what¡¯s this all about, Griff?¡± Riordan asked. ¡°If you wanted to play a few hands, all you had to do was ask.¡± ¡°Your father will explain when he gets here,¡± he responded, taking a last pull on his flask before recapping it and sliding it into the inside pocket of his tunic. He leaned forward clasping his hands together. ¡°I don¡¯t like you. I never did. You¡¯re unpredictable, unprofessional, and an utter disappointment. I find your lack of discipline disturbing and your presence endangers everyone around you. If I had my preference I¡¯d send you on your way and pray to the Gods you frek up again and spend the rest of your miserable life in some gulag in the asshole of the unaffiliated territories, or vaporized along with your garbage scow of a ship.¡± ¡°Thanks for sharing with the group. I have similar feelings for you as well. Do we all hug now?¡± Riordan replied with aggressive condescension. ¡°Commodore Koenig thinks you¡¯re redeemable but I¡¯m sick and tired of watching him stick his neck out for you. Your father is a great man, one of the best, but you,¡± He looked Riordan up and down with disgust, ¡°The best part of you left a stain on your mother¡¯s sheets.¡± Almost faster than the eye could follow Riordan had Leftenant Commander Griffor pulled halfway across the small table by his collar. ¡°I¡¯ve had about enough of your shit, Griff. Piss me off again and you¡¯ll be choking on your teeth.¡± Riordan growled, his nose practically touching the older man¡¯s. When Riordan lunged across the table Jaisen had leapt to his feet and dogged the latches on the hatch. Riordan pushed the officer away to sit heavily in his chair when a stern knock came from the dogged hatch. ¡°Who is it?¡± Jaisen asked in a sing-song voice. ¡°Cut the dren and open up!¡± Commodore Koenig¡¯s muffled demand came through the bulkhead. Riordan nodded assent and Jaisen released the latches. Commodore Koenig entered the room alone. He glanced around reading the tension. ¡°Catching up, I see. Have a seat gentlemen,¡± he said, pulling back his chair. ¡°We¡¯re only a few hours out from Prime Alpha. Your mother is ecstatic about your visit but we have serious matters to discuss.¡± The four men sat in tense silence for a few moments. ¡°Roger Syddel and his crew are dead,¡± he said, observing his son¡¯s reaction. ¡°They were never able to restore the Zarkazian¡¯s systems and succumbed to hypoxia.¡± Riordan swallowed hard as Jaisen shifted in his chair uncomfortably. ¡°The frigate towed the Zarkazian into the nearest unaffiliated system where we expect it will be scavenged and stripped to its keel as soon as it¡¯s discovered.¡± Commodore Koenig looked over at Leftenant Commander Griffor and said, ¡°Go ahead.¡± He looked tired and old. Time was an enemy even the strongest warrior couldn¡¯t defeat. ¡°The information we are about to discuss will never be spoken of outside this room,¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor stated. ¡°Upon penalty of death?¡± Riordan interrupted sarcastically. ¡°Upon penalty of all of us being tried for treason and publicly executed. So, yes.¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor finished. ¡°Agreed?¡± Commodore Koenig asked, placing his right hand palm up in the middle of the table. No one can exactly pinpoint its advent but the gesture represented the willingness to accept what was offered and the terms under which it was offered. Each man solemnly added their hand to the table. ¡°Agreed!¡± they said in unison, completing the ancient ritual that bound them all to secrecy. ¡°We didn¡¯t send you on a suicide mission. Your primary mission was as a distraction.¡± Commodore Koenig said. ¡°You were selected because we needed someone we could count on to epically frek up,¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor added unnecessarily. Commodore Koenig shot an annoyed glare at Leftenant Commander Griffor. ¡°And also because you have ethics and a moral code. The girl was a secondary priority, but I knew you¡¯d die before you left her behind,¡± Commodore Koenig held out his hand. Leftenant Commander Griffor reluctantly handed over the flask. The Commodore spun the cap off and swigged. ¡°It was a hell of a risk. If your mother found out, the fallout would make anything the Grand Chancellor did seem like a thanks-gifting celebration.¡± ¡°The Grand Chancellor doesn¡¯t know his niece¡¯s rescue was a cover for a military operation?¡± Jaisen asked. ¡°And he never will,¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor warned. ¡°The op was planned at levels above his pay grade.¡± ¡°How high?¡± Riordan asked. ¡°The Fleet Marshall, The Grand Solicitor, The Supreme Speaker of the Senate, and The Magister of the House of Governors,¡± Commodore Koenig responded. Jaisen let out a low whistle. ¡°The four horseman,¡± Riordan said using the popular but distasteful nickname for the four most powerful people in the Greater Galactic cluster. All four positions were by appointment only and they served for life or until retirement. The four horsemen held the true power in the government representing the Military, Judicial, Executive, and Legislative branches. ¡°We knew Syddel was going to try and steal the ransom. We used the drop to get him out into the open. His organization needed resources and 15 million credits were too sweet to pass up,¡± Commodore Koenig swigged from the flask a final time. He handed it back to Leftenant Commander Griffor who made a face at finding it empty. ¡°The Grand Chancellor¡¯s public campaign against piracy in the Outer Territories has been very effective. Syddel planned to space the Grand Chancellor¡¯s niece as a personal message to back off. As we speak, a series of targeted raids are finishing off the rest of Syddel¡¯s gang in the unaffiliated territories.¡± Riordan tried not to feel proud of his contribution and failed. Who would have thought an itinerant smuggler and an expert thief would have been instrumental in breaking the back of the most successful pirate gang in the last century. ¡°You came through, Atticus. Thank you,¡± his father said, emotion seeping into his voice. ¡°Uh, hey, you¡¯re welcome. We¡¯re glad to have helped. You just should have been forthcoming about what was going on,¡± Riordan said, giving the older man¡¯s hand a warm squeeze. Commodore Koenig smiled at his son. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you. I always have been. I hope you know that. You¡¯re just so stubborn and independent!¡± Griffor cleared his throat. ¡°The additional business, Sir.¡± ¡°Yes. Additional business.¡± Commodore Koenig said, unconsciously sitting up straighter and adjusting his uniform. ¡°Roger Syddel wasn¡¯t just the leader of a private gang.¡± ¡°Ok,¡± Jaisen said confused, ¡°What else was he?¡± ¡°Have you ever heard of the Black Hand?¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor asked Riordan and Jaisen. They shared a confused glance. ¡°Never heard of them, Jaisen,¡± Riordan asked, turning to his partner. ¡°No,¡± Jaisen replied. ¡°Should we have?¡± ¡°I¡¯d be very surprised if you had to be honest. Saying that name around the wrong people ¡­ well it wouldn¡¯t be good,¡± Commodore Koenig said. ¡°Roger Syddel was a high-ranking member of the Black Hand,¡± Leftenant Commander Griffor said, ¡°which is why many of us in the know advocated for a commando raid. We gave your involvement a very low chance of success.¡± ¡°Thanks, that means a lot,¡± Riordan replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Hol¡¯ up. Who¡¯s us?¡± Jaisen interrupted.