Fic: Altered Trajectory (cont.)

[jeriendhal]

Softpaw stood frozen for a moment in surprise, then burst out laughing.  “In case you haven’t noticed the color of those jumpers you’re wearing, you’re my prisoners, milord,” she said, finally regaining her breath.  “What incentive do you offer exactly to turn myself in?”
 
“A chance to come home,” he said simply.  “Because otherwise your remaining alternatives are to either stay out in space beyond Vulpine law forever or to space Hazel, Machiavelli and myself to keep us quiet.  Now call me a raving optimist, but I’d like to think that a noble sworn to my mother’s House is not going to abandon her home and family, or become a cold blooded murderess.”

“You've got a very comfortable cell here,” she pointed out. “You could stay in it for a very long time, if necessary.”

“For how long?” Hazel asked. “A year? Five? Ten? Planning on attending my cub's Coming of Age party here in this cozy little apartment?”

“Touche,” Softpaw said, waving away Hazel's scenario. “All right. You know perfectly well I managed to operate for nearly ten years as a pirate and not slaughter the innocent for sport or my own self-protection. I'm not about to start now. But neither am I going to turn myself in to be indentured to a corp or sent to a rehabilitation facility.”

“Quite,” Rufus agreed. He took in a breath. “Alternatively, should certain individuals suspected of being engaged in extra-legal activities prove to be helpful to the Council of Farmer Lords, they might be willing to look the other way, especially if someone speaks on their behalf.”

“And what would those individuals have to do to get this someone's favor?” Softpaw asked.

“We need to contact the Galapagos,” he told her. “For their sake as well as the Council's.”

“Not possible,” Softpaw said flatly. “I've taken a contract you see. One that stipulated confidentiality.”

“I'm not asking you to take us to the Dominion, just give us the means to contact them,” Rufus said.

“Even if I wanted to I couldn't,” she replied. “Drisden was quite paranoid about the possibility of us accidentally or intentionally leading hostile forces back to the Dominion. He didn't keep the navigational coordinates for the sections of space where we would rendezvous with the Dominion courier with himself, just in case he was captured, or killed as it turned out. It's in a datafile he left on the Scarlet Claw's, behind a series of encryption walls that only Drisden had the code keys for. You would need a cyber-glider to crack it, and unfortunately Cyber-Cor doesn't make a habit of renting out theirs to pirates.”

“Well, it's a real good thing you've got me around, isn't it?” Mac said from across the room. They all turned to see him standing in the doorway of his bedchamber, dressed in the same orange jumpsuit and thin collar as Rufus and Hazel were, with the addition of chromed shackles and chains at his wrists and forelegs. He reached up with his cuffed hands and tugged at a patch of fur at the base of his right ear. To Rufus' surprise it tore away, revealing the bright gleam of a cyber-glider port in the short security officer's skull. “Now, Lord Ru Ofanius, I do think you owe me an apology.”

TBC

Comments

[mjkj.livejournal.com]

Hmm, nice turn of events...

...apology? ...what for? The way mac behaved was to bring scorn to himself...

Ah, well, looking forward to the next update :)

mjkj