The Slap, part two
10 Nov 2017TripleRazor
The glowing trace of another vessel in supercruise ahead of him. After a lot of searching, he had found his quarry. And certainly, she was doing well for herself; when he had set off he was looking for someone in a Sidewinder, now he was closing on a Dolphin!And....here he was, eyes flickering to the distance reading between the two ships. For the tenth time, he double-checked the ship and pilot's name against the mission manifest. It's the right one, dammit!
Closer.
He cycled through available weapons until the frame shift interdictor was armed. This was just one of many interdictions he'd done. But he was still uneasy about the whole thing. He spasmed with nerves as the FSI cheeped to report they were in range. Triplerazor took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "I'm so sorry...."
His finger came down on the trigger button.
The glass thudded on the table, a clink and a gurgle as it was refilled.
"Sorry for what? You were just doing a job, and a weird one at that! Most people getting yanked outa supercruise by a Ferdy generally drop their cargo sharpish or make peace with whatever gods they believe in!"
Two hours had passed, and neither of them would have imagined this.
He'd found his quarry very elusive indeed; it had taken three attempts to subdue the Dolphin and even then he suspected that was a daft screwup like any person makes.
The jarring thud of forced realspace drop and the frantic pirouette of chase and evasion. Sin Eater’s four modded pulse lasers and gargantuan multicannon deployed, instinctively. Scan completed. And when no shots came, the Dolphin, Little Blue, opened a comm channel.
"You aren't much of a pirate, are you? Won't make a living like this!"
Triplerazor could hear the harshness of her breathing after the chase. His wasn't much different. He flicked a switch and stowed Sin Eater’s weapons.
"No pirate, sister. Got what I want."
Heart still pounding, he'd turned the ship away and prepared to jump out.
"Whoa, bro....you just took a fucking year off my life, for nothing? Any chance of some kind of explanation?"
He was silent. Then something clicked inside and he started to laugh. The mission never stated what he had to do after the scan....
He consulted the nav panel.
"Over a drink, maybe? What's your poison?"
She too had started to laugh. "Better be Lavian or Indi after that!"
They'd docked up, found a quiet, high-end bar and took a private table. The bartender was a good one, no comments or funny looks when Triplerazor had ordered a whole bottle of Lavian brandy. When someone ordered that without enquiring about the price, you knew they could damn well afford it....
So after slamming down the first couple of glasses, they'd relaxed and stared at each other. Niugnep Tep, she introduced herself as. "Not necessarily my real name. Like yours....."
She was a good-looking woman of middle years with auburn hair; but the long scar that ran down the left hand side of her face, through the socket where a prosthetic eye now gazed, spoke of a hard past, someone who had been through rough times and lived to tell the tale. She studied his face in return, a pale, gaunt man, hair and beard cut close, prominent cheekbones but pockmarked cheeks and sunken eyes. A face that had looked better in the past.
He'd given her the explanation, which had been received with a mixture of amusement and incredulity.
"Well, you tell your Imperial intelligence folk that I've spent most of the last fifteen bloody years cryosleeping in an escape pod. I used to be a pilot. But I think after that length of time you get declared dead or whatever, record gets wiped or archived. So yeah, if I seem too good to be a rookie, that's because rookie I am not and I'm making up for lost time!"
They'd clinked glasses, drained and refilled them. At ease now, they chatted and joked.
"Funny that, the Empire wanting to check up on me. I'm heading into Imp space soon to do some work for them. Guess you're pretty high up the ladder?"
He nodded. "Prince." She raised her glass in a semi-ironic salute.
"Worth it?"
He shrugged. "I guess so. Mainly I always wanted to be on good terms with everyone so I could go where the hell I liked and not worry 'bout it!"
"Are the ships any good?"
"Depends what you want them for. I licked enough Fed boot polish to get my hands on an Assault Ship, and it's a good beast in combat - that's what Fed ships do best. But Imperial vessels are a lot more fun. And they look better."
"Fun?"
He winked. "My Clipper, now I don't fly it that often any more. But every time I think about selling, I take her for a spin and come back happy. It's damn fast and manoeuvrable for such a big ship."
She nodded, and sat back, her eyes thoughtful.
"Got it. So your overall philosophy is go everywhere and see everything?"
He nodded.
"Good plan. Like I said - I've lost fifteen years. Lost a lot more than that as well. Money. A life. Maybe a family...." Her voice trailed off and her face darkened with introspection. Triplerazor wisely did not probe any more. He recognised deep pain within, the kind he had seen too often in the mirror.
"So I'm back. Gonna make me a fortune, and I don't really give a shit who pays me. But what I am going to do is rescue poor bastards like me, because I got given a second chance, and they should too."
He inclined his head and raised his own glass in a return salute.
"Do you realise we've nearly finished this bottle?" she said in mock alarm.
His eyes widened. "Wait. I have a plan....yes, I think it might just work! Another one?"
"Drink? Or bottle?"
"Which do you think?" They grinned at each other.
Morning after, night before.
They'd hugged tightly as they entered the docking bay boulevard then separated wordlessly and headed back to their respective ships.
Triplerazor watched, hand over mouth, from the bridge of Sin Eater as Little Blue undocked and sped from the station. He watched the exhaust trail dissipate then shook himself. Things to do, places to be. He set a course back to Dvorsi, sat back in his seat and requested launching permission.
The ship lifted smoothly and accelerated through the slot, frame shift drive charging, waiting for mass-lock to end.
He deliberately did not look to see where her wake was.