Longshot

by wdhenning

Prompt: I knew the price for the interstellar cargo was too good to be true. But when I found out why, I was already in the pickle (prompted by jinnis).

Opportunities like this don't come around often, if ever, but that annoying little contrarian voice in my head said it was too good to be true. But with the profit potential so great, I stifled the voice.

Bad move.

And thus, me and my humble star-hauler landed smack dab in the middle of an interstellarconspiracy. Woo-hoo...

A mysterious hooded woman named Amber offered four pods of medical supplies at cents on the credit, claiming a distressing personal issue she would not divulge. And as it was, I already had amotivated buyer in mind. The remote Eleutheria colony urgently needed the cargo, so I could be a hero and turn a tidy profit at the same time. In my business, those two things don't often go together.

And I really needed the money to pay off a debt to some shady people with rather harsh loan default policies, and also to make needed repairs. My cargo ship, aptly named the Longshot, which I bought from a scrapyard and fixed up myself, was held together with baling wire, duct tape, and prayers — well, not the first one, some of the second, and lots of the last.

I was careful, inspecting the manifest and spot-checking the cargo pods before agreeing. But the woman left out one rather significant detail. Hidden among diagnostic equipment was a stasis tube containing a hibernating young woman — no ordinary woman, mind you, but Aquila Savoire, the missing daughter of the deposed Athenian Emperor.

Returning to the bridge, I slumped down in the thread-worn pilot's seat, propped my feet up on the cracked control panel, and then placed a long-range com to a friend on the Meridian Space Station from which I came.

A grainy holographic image of a man with a scruffy black beard and a grimy old-fashioned ballcap appeared before me. "Hey, Micah. Waz' up?" the image said.

Holding my hands up for effect, I said, "Goob, you won't believe what I just found in my cargo."

Goob put a hand to his chin, pretending to be thoughtful, which he usually wasn't. "Let me guess... An Empress Heir?"

I abruptly sat up and my eyes went full open. "How did you know?"

"It's all over the station," he replied. "You know that woman you bought the cargo from?" I nodded. "Someone capped her. Rumor has it she was the Athenian Agent that smuggled out the Heir."

And then tricked me into smuggling her onto my ship. I face palmed. "Great..."

"Guild spooks are crawling all over the station, and they ain't makin' any secret about what they're after, which is the Heir and you too, my friend." A smirk rose on Goob's mouth. "The reward is enough to turn me upper class."

I stared. He was joking, right? We were like brothers, him and me, he wouldn't... "You didn't tell them I was heading to Eleutheria, did you?"

"Didn't have to. You filed a flight plan, and that is public record."

Oh, yeah, I did. "Well, crap..."

"Although, I did tell them you planned to stop over at the Aegis Station first to check on a salvage job along the way. That got me free drinks."

My grin returned. Goob knew I sometimes did salvage to supplement my income, but also knew I had already completed that particular job. "Thanks." He probably bought me some time.

Goob's expression turned grave, something that rarely happened, and thus, sent a chill down my spine. "These people are seriously bad news, my friend. If I were you, I'd become real scarce, like real quick like."

I let out a long, exasperated breath. "I hear you, buddy."

Goob grinned and made a mock salute, then said his usual closing statement. "Keep the shiny side up, Micah."

And my usual reply was, "There is no up in space, Goob." The holographic image disappeared.

I was close to Eleutheria, little more than a day out. With Goob's ruse, I should have enough time to drop off the cargo pods, collect my pay, and skedaddle. The Longshot may look like a rundown boxy star-hauler — and she was — but she was also fast. Only if nothing vital broke. The pressurized pods hung on to the sides like giant ticks on a hound dog.

But what to do with a hibernating Empress Heir? I usually avoid political intrigue like the plague, but I felt for this young woman.

Being the last surviving heir, I supposed she was now officially the Empress of the AthenianCommonwealth, a collection of several outer worlds. The rebels had killed her family in a quick, brutal revolution. Not that the Savoire ruling family didn't have their controversies — they were frequently featured in the scandal blogs — but nothing to warrant a rebellion.

Well, there was one unforgivable sin: the Savoire family opposed the powerful interstellar Traders Guild, which I had no doubt funded and directed the revolt. Harsh regulations and excessive fees sponsored by the guild have forced many of my fellow independent traders into bankruptcy. And soon me, if I didn't make this haul.

Since there was no artificial gravity within the pods, I floated along until I re-found the stasis tube. Little blinking green lights indicated it functioned normally. I peered at her through the transparent cover. With a gentle face, high cheekbones, full lips, and smooth tan skin, she was a looker by most standards.

If I turned her in to the guild, I would save my own life, and probably collect a hefty reward. I mean, I never really signed up for this. She was not my responsibility. Right?

But damn, that didn't set right in my craw. I gazed at the hibernating young empress again.Hardly more than a child, she seemed so innocent, and probably never signed up for this either.

Morality can be a pain in the arse.

"Well, my little empress," I muttered with a groan, "you deserve a say in your own fate."

After hooking up a hand-sled, I lugged the tube onto the Longshot, placing it between the scuffed gray walls of the main passageway. Opening the control panel cover, I started the recovery process, which would take most of a day.

Won't she be surprised.

*****

Big, doe-like eyes, as deep blue as the seas on her home world, gazed up at me, inquiring. By the stars, was she beautiful. But who was I kidding? I was a low-class hauler, and she was, well, an Empress. Although, for a brief moment, I wished I had changed into cleaner clothes and brushed my messy brown hair. But hey, I am what I am.

Aquila's eyes widened further, and she opened her mouth to speak, but only an airy rasp came out.

"Here, drink this," I said, placing the straw from a water pouch to her lips. "Don't try to talk yet — you just came out of stasis."

She drank, in small sips at first, then with gusto, nearly draining the half-liter pouch. With throat re-moistened, she whispered, "Thank you."

Aquila's eyes took me in again, then scanned the passageway. "Where am I?" she said in Sol Standard, but with the heavy Athenian drawl.

"On my hauler, the Longshot," I answered. "And believe me, Empress, I was just as surprised as I suppose you are."

Her forehead wrinkled. "Empress?"

Did she not know? "The rebellion... Your family was all killed. I'm sorry."

Aquila's lower lipped trembled as she clamped her eyes closed, squeezing out a tear. "I feared as much. And if I had not run away, I would have died as well."

The scandal-blogs usually casted her as a spoiled, defiant teen that partied too much. But when pressed, I admired her compassionate stances on social issues.

Aquila grimaced as she propped herself upon elbows. "Easy now," I urged, offering my hands toassist. Slowly, I helped step out of the pod onto unsteady legs. The black, form-fittingcompression suit, standard fashion for stasis sleepers, hugged willowy curves. "You know, there is a huge reward out for you."

Widening eyes, she said, "Is that your intention, umm..."

"Micah McAlester. And no. To my amazement, I found a few scruples."

The corners of her mouth turned up. "Then, would you help me, Micah?"

"It would be my honor, Empress," I replied with an exaggerated bow.

"I am empress of nothing, Micah. Please call me Aquila," she said, shaking her head. "DidAmber Hawke send you?"

"Amber?" I said, putting a hand to my chin. "Oh, yeah. In a way, yes. She sold me the cargopods, but I had no idea at the time they included you. A friend of mine said she was killed later on the Meridian Space Station."

Aquila's eyes shot full open as she gasped, then dipping her head, a series of sobs escaped her lips. I wrapped an arm around her waist when her knees faltered and allowed her head to fall against my shoulder.

"You must have cared for her." I said in a gentle voice. "I'm sorry."

"Amber was my protector," Aquila said between quiet sobs, "and more family to me than my own."

"You may rest in my cabin. I'd give you the guest cabin, but it's full of junk."

"No. I need to send a message," she said, wiping moisture from her eyes. "Then, may I request you take me to Eleutheria?" When I threw my head back and groaned, Aquila wrinkled her forehead and asked, "What?"

"That is my destination, and we are almost there," I responded, internally awed by Amber's clever tactics. "Apparently, your Amber knew I would go there to sell the cargo, delivering you at the same time."

I lent a supporting arm as Aquila staggered onto the small bridge and into the navigator's seat. She narrowed her eyes upon noticing the scorches, dangling wires, various missing panel covers,and cobbled eclectic repairs, especially the layer of duct tape on one wall that I used to seal a hull leak. Tentatively, she touched the angled transparent control panel to activate the long-range com, probably repulsed by the cracks and greasy smears that partially obscured the colored icons underneath.

Without looking at me, Aquila asked, "Do I want to know how space-worthy this ship is?"

"I'm fairly sure you don't."

"As I thought."

With the entry of a specific com address, the forward viewscreen flickered on, revealing the lined face of a white-haired man wearing some sort of blue uniform.

"Jules," Aquila muttered.

A smile brightened what was a harsh face. "My dear Aquila, we feared you lost." The smile dropped. "But Amber, she--"

"I know," Aquila said, dipping her head.

"Where are you?"

"Aboard a hauler, the Longshot, and are..." Aquila motioned me into the com video view. "This is Micah."

I explained, "We are on a galactic-side planetary plane approach into the Eleutheria system, just inside the heliosphere."

Jules glanced down for a moment, then said, "I see you. Maintain present vector. I will clear you for priority approach and docking at Alpha Station." He looked up, expressionless. "Were you followed?"

"Not that I could tell," I answered. "But the Traders Guild goons know my destination, so they can't be far behind. With any luck, I can drop off Aquila and the cargo pods, then get the helloutta Dodge."

Aquila swung around to me, her eyes widening with concern. "Micah, they will still pursue you."

"The Longshot ain't pretty, but she's fast. And I've got friends beyond the outer colonies where the Guild won't go. Don't worry about me."

The Alpha Station was an elegant structure, looking like a giant old-fashioned Christmas ornament, pointed at both ends and bulging out in the middle. Several other starships waitedalong dock gantries that poked out from the sides like spikes. A high-tension cable connected the geo-synchronous station to the planet below, along which a space elevator rode, delivering cargo and people back and forth. Lights from the many portals along the shell gave it a festive vibe as the Longshot approached.

To save time, I jettisoned the cargo pods in nearby stable orbit to be picked up later, then proceeded to dock with the assistance of tug-drones.

When the docking tunnel hatches opened, Jules and three others in blue uniforms greeted us. Aquila rushed in to hug him tightly.

Once they separated, I cast them a mock salute and said, "Best I leave now. Be sure to transfer payment into my account."

Jules's lips tightened as he handed a data tablet to me. "I would advise against departing now. Four large starships just entered the system and do not answer our hails, likely guild warships."

I gazed at the tablet tactical view. The Longshot would never make it out against them. "Well,crap... Looks like you're stuck with me for a while, Empress.

Aquila tightened her lips. "I'm sorry you got tangled up in this, Micah."

I put on a grin, partially forced and partially real. "Hey, I'll have a good story to tell. Might even get me some free drinks."

She winked. "If we get out of this, drinks are on me."

"Just might take you up on that."

I left the fusion reactors idling, just in case I wanted to make a quick getaway, then joined Aquilaand Jules in a station control room. Unlike the Longshot bridge, it was clean and functional, with a bit of artistic flair from the overhead space-themed murals. Five padded chairs arraigned in a semi-circle faced angled transparent control panels. Display panels showing external views or tactical charts lined the rounded walls. A single chair on a raised dais overlooked them all from behind. Rather stern people in blue uniforms occupied every chair. Like my ship, an AI usually ran things, but when the feces contacted the rotating air mover, it required more supervision.

The gray-haired woman in the command seat glanced at me and frowned. Seemed she didn't appreciate the trouble I brought. Not that I blamed her.

A young man glanced back at the woman. "They are hailing us, ma'am."

"About time. Connect, but tight view on only me," she replied curtly.

A hologram of a seated, balding man in a red and gray uniform appeared above a silvery floor disk. A smirk crossed his pale lips. "Celine DeVoir. How good to see you again."

"The Guild is not welcomed here, Brone," Celine responded, with eyes drawn to slits. "What do you want?"

He leaned back and sighed. "So hostile... You know what we want. Give us the Savoire girl, and then we will be on our way."

"She is not here."

"Oh, come now, Celine. Let's dispense with the usual denials and posturing." A cold smile rose on thick lips. "You have two of your days, then we come and get her. Believe me, you don't want that." The transmission abruptly ended.

"Prick..." Celine hissed.

"That was bold," Jules scoffed. "Do they think they could get away with that?"

"The Traders Guild controls the Sol Council," Celine replied, spinning around in her chair. "So yes, they can get away with it."

I stated, "They have only four ships."

"There are more coming," Celine said. "I'd bet a year's salary on that."

Jules shook his head. "It's a sad state of affairs when a trading guild has a fleet of warships."

"So, what happens to Aquila if they take her?" I asked.

Aquila locked eyes and answered me with an even voice, "Ultimately, I will die. Of that, I am sure. There are still many who support my family, so they can't have any of us survive." She let out a deep breath. "But know this — I shall not cause war, nor your harm, Micah."

Jules' eyes went wide. "What are you suggesting, Aquila?"

"You know what I suggest."

"We cannot give in to the guild," Celine retorted, jumping up. "They will not stop until opposed."

"But at what cost to the people of your world?" Aquila responded as her eyes moistened. "This is not yet the time. I see no other option."

"I do," I said. As all eyes turned toward me, a sly grin came to my lips. "If the guild wants you dead, then you must die."

*****

Of all my crazy schemes, this one took the cake. Like my ship's name, it was a longshot. And it amazed me that the others went along.

Me and a gang of dock workers spent the night constructing a Longshot bridge replica within an empty storage room, not exact, but close enough. A holographic representation wouldn't do — there were ways to tell. In the end, I had to admit it looked good.

The guild warships took positions surrounding the space station at a distance, presumably for containment. We knew, and they knew, that any escape attempt would need happen before more guild ships arrived.

Celine ordered deployment of the Eleutherian Space Force to harass the guild ships, but not fully engage. Hopefully, it will appear to be a distraction ploy to our faux-escape attempt.

"It's time," Celine said, blowing out a breath. "I hope this works."

Me, too.

Aquila and I returned to the fake Longshot bridge. Before we sat down, she leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek, leaving a warm tingle behind. "Thank you, Micah, for doing this."

With a nod and a deep breath, I took the pilot's seat and hid a data tablet in my lap. Years ago, I installed a dedicated com-link between the tablet and the ship AI so I could control it remotely. Never thought I would use it this way.

With a few tablet touches, I released the docking clamps and fired the lateral thrusters to move the ship away.

"Here we go," I muttered to nobody in particular.

Once cleared, I fired the main fusion thrusters, ramping them up to full power, setting a tangential course to skirt the upper atmosphere. As if we were trying to escape...

"Come on, come on..." I whispered while viewing a station tactical display. When a guild warship changed course to pursue, I pumped the air with a fist, shouting, "Yes! They took the bait."

After a few minutes, the guild ship hailed the Longshot. Per plan, the com relayed from my ship to our fake bridge. I activated the cameras here, which would also relay via the Longshot.

A holographic image of the guild official we met earlier appeared before us. With thick eyebrows drawn together, he ordered, "Longshot, power down and prepare for boarding. If you do not comply, you will be fired upon."

"You're up," I said to Aquila as I opened the outgoing com.

She put on an angry, scowling face, convincing enough that even I jerked back. "Go to hell, Brone. I shall never surrender to the Trader's Guild."

Brone smirked. "So unwise, girl." The transmission ended.

"Nicely done," I told Aquila, and she beamed in return.

To further guide the guild response, I fired two orange bolts from an aft mounted plasma cannon that I had installed years ago in case of pirate attacks. The cannon would not damage the guild warship much, but per plan, it would provide them all the justification they needed to return fire.

Sure enough, they did. I grimaced as a super-fast streak from the guild ship underside, likely arailgun slug, split the Longshot in half, bow from stern. A fusion reactor breach, exploding outward in a dazzling super-hot white flash, finished the job. The swirling pieces that remained glimmered in the sunlight, eventually to burn up in the atmosphere. No one onboard would survive that.

I had poured my heart, soul, and bank account into that ship, so a kind of grief shadowed my heart. "Goodbye, my fair lady," I muttered to the image. "You served me well."

Aquila reached over and placed a slender hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry about your ship, Micah. But I am grateful — you truly saved my life."

Jules, with more glee than I thought possible for this man, stuck his head through the hatch and exclaimed, "Hoorah! The guild ships are leaving. That crazed scheme actually worked!"

I grinned in return. The Longshot had died with honor.

"Now that you're dead, Aquila," I said, turning to her, "will you try to retake your family's throne?"

She shook her head. "No. History has shown that hereditary monarchies ultimately devolve into tyrannies. It is time for change. But I do plan to oppose the Traders Guild."

"I would support that."

"Then join us, Micah. We could use your resourcefulness and your independent hauler contacts."

I put a hand to my chin, pretending to be thoughtful. "It seems that I have some free time on my hands... But do you think we have a chance to take down the guild?"

"I am hopeful," Aquila answered with a coy smile, "but it is a longshot."