Riordan followed the sounds of banging to find Sarah cleaning out one of the sinistral-side passenger suites Riordan used for general catch-all storage.

“How did you find out?” he asked, leaning against the hatchway.

Sarah paused, then resumed piling spare parts and miscellaneous tools into a small crate next to her. "I found some files and old messages on a storage device when I was going through some of my mom’s old things. They were between my mom and some guy, you. Love letters. Journal entries. I thought she might have been cheating or something, so I asked my dad about them." She shouldered past Riordan, setting the crate with a small pile of others just outside the hatch.

“What did he say?”

“He explained that she was in an earlier relationship with his best friend who died in an accident. She was pregnant but didn't find out until after. She moved on with her life and married my dad. He didn't tell me you were still alive; I figured that out on my own."

“Then why do you assume I abandoned you? I came back, Sarah, a few weeks after we popped back into existence. Imagine my surprise to learn that I had a little girl and that my fiancée was now married to my best friend. I still loved her. It was a lot to process at once." he added a few parts from a side table to a new crate and placed it on the floor next to her. "Your mother refused to see me. She couldn't handle it emotionally, I guess. She sent your father. We met at a bar and had a few drinks and a good long talk. Here, let me help," he said, grabbing the side handle of a heavy crate of damaged sensor elements she was struggling with. They placed it with the others.

“How’d that go?” she asked, without making eye contact.

“Not exactly in my favor. I wanted to be part of your lives, but they never told you about me, and they were worried the situation would be confusing, even damaging. They didn’t want to cause you any trauma.”

“Trauma? Do you know how many times I had to clean up my mother when she passed out on the floor in a puddle of her own sick?” she said, pulling open a wall locker to find it full of conduit loops and reels of optical cabling. “Trauma!” she scoffed.

“I agreed with their decision," he said, bending down to retrieve a few wayward spools. "At the time. Not that I had much of a choice. With their marriage, I was left with no parental rights. I just wanted what was best for you, and that was what you had, a loving mom and dad."

“So, three mature adults thought that living a lie was best for me?” she said, slamming a reel of cable into the crate. “Don’t you think having my real father in my life was best for me? Why didn’t you put me on one of the rescue ships?” she asked, meeting his eyes for the first time in the conversation. “Why did you let me stay?”

He broke eye contact, suddenly uncomfortable. “You got nobody now, who’s going to take care of you?” He closed the distance between them, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I can take care of myself…,” she said.

“I can take care of you better,” he said.

“So, what? You’re stepping up now?”

“Yes, stability, discipline, and the chance to make a future for yourself.”

“Seriously?” she scoffed.

“Yeah, all this can be yours someday,” he said, gesturing widely.

“Impressive,” she said flatly, clearly not impressed.

“Sometimes. Anyway, meet me in the command deck in an hour. We’re going to be getting underway soon, and you’re gonna need some training if you want to become the greatest cargo pilot that ever lived.”

The General Quarters alarm sounded throughout the ship.

“What the...”

“Atticus!” Glori yelled over the PA. “A Federal destroyer, The Dunkirk, is hailing us. They’re demanding we stand down and prepare to be boarded! What should I do?”

A few moments later, Riordan stormed into the command deck. He checked the sensor console.

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"1000 kilometers and closing. They'll be in weapons range soon," Riordan powered up the engines and readied the ship for travel.

“Atticus, what are you doing?” Glori demanded. “Stand down!”

“No way! That is a warship," he yelled, pointing at the sensor console. "Not the police, or customs. We are getting the frek out of here!"

The com crackled to life. "Passive Swindler, this is the Deuces Wild. You need to bounce outta here! It's all over the news nets, they think you helped attack the station. Somehow, they have holo-vids of you shooting people on the station and firing on the docking arm! They're saying you're part of the 'Sons of the Confederacy'!"

“See, I frekking told you!” Riordan pressed the com button. “This is the Passive Swindler, already tracking Deuces, thanks for the heads up. Swindler out.”

“I’ll see if I can buy you some time. See you on the flip side, Deuces out.”

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked as she entered the cramped command deck.

“Only your father's poor decision-making skills. He's made the conscious decision to become an inter-cluster fugitive," Glori replied from her seat at the coms station.

Sarah turned to Riordan. “What is she talking about?”

“We have been implicated in taking part in the destruction of the station. Can you take the engineering station, please? Keep an eye out for anything red."

“Whoa, who’s we,” she replied in shock. “I didn’t do shize! Is that a warship?” she asked, glancing at the sensor readouts. “They just powered up their weapons!”

“Yes, it is, and while not the largest ship in the fleet, it's more than a match for the Swindler, so we,” he said, reaching to flip switches, “are leaving."

“What about all that talk about stability and shize?" she asked, strapping herself into the chair in front of the engineering console.

Riordan ignored her. "Glori, you need to keep a sharp eye on life support and whatever else is on your panel.”

“What choice do I have?” Glori mumbled as she wrapped the restraint webbing around her torso.

“Status report!" Riordan called out as he took his spot in the captain's chair.

“Uh… most indicators are amber, wait, one just turned green. Now it's amber again." Glori responded.

“Good enough! Navigation?” he asked, looking at Sarah.

Sarah fumbled with a few controls. "We are a go for FTL, the destination coordinates you entered are locked in. Engines are spooling at 100% parity."

“Glori, what’s the Dunkirk’s position?”

“800 kilometers, weapons charged and ready. Short-range sensors on the sinistral side are out. Sinistral-side attitude control is at 35%." The coms console beeped. "Oh look, they just transmitted your warrant!" Glori called out.

“Thank you. Navigation and astromech are complete," Riordan said, punching buttons and adjusting controls. "Crew, brace for burn. Sarah, watch the ion drive temps."

“Which ones are those… OK… got it! Ion drives? Won’t that leave a trail their sensors can follow?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re gonna burn ions then jump to hyperspace for 15 seconds. Then we’ll drop out, calculate a new heading, and re-enter. They won’t be able to track us then. Engaging ion engines, now.”

Everyone was pressed back into their seats as the Swindler lurched forward, turning to the right, directly into the path of the Dunkirk.

“Aren’t we supposed to exit an inhabited system before we enter hyperspace?” Sarah asked Glori.

“I don’t think your father is concerned about traffic laws right now,” she responded.

“Battle stations!” Riordan called out, mashing a large button on the console above his head. The hatch to the command deck clanged shut, and muffled bangs echoed throughout the ship as hatches sealed off all major compartments. During combat, all sections were sealed in case of a hull breach. This limited the loss of life giving atmosphere. “30 seconds to FTL. Glori, open a channel to Dunkirk.”

Glori pressed a button and adjusted a dial, “Channel open.”

“This is Atticus Riordan, Captain of the Passive Swindler, federal registration delta delta two one four..." Riordan was interrupted by a voice blaring from the speakers.

“This is Captain Jared Eckles of the Dunkirk. By federal authority, I order you to shut down your engines, lower your shields, and prepare to be boarded. We have a warrant for your arrest..."

“Captain Eckles," Riordan interrupted. "I am transmitting my sensor logs as well as internal security recordings. I am also uploading the same to the quantum net for public consumption."

“What are your intentions with the hostages, Captain Riordan? What are your demands?” Captain Eckles replied.

“Hostages? I don’t have any hostages! As far as demands, review the footage and think for yourself. I had nothing to do with the attack on Vesta station except for the defense of myself and evacuees. Those that remain with me do so of their own free will.”

The line to the Dunkirk remained open, and the crew of the small freighter could hear chaos and alarms. “Spekhli duzkh! What are you doing?!”

“Range!” Riordan called out.

“Less than 100 kilometers and closing fast. 90 kilometers," Glori responded.

More chaos poured over the open channel. "Evasive maneuvers, helm! Full power to shields! Ready weapons!" Captain Eckles sounded panicked.

The Dunkirk was now large in the view port. Riordan jinked the manual controls a few degrees to starboard as the Passive Swindler jumped to hyperspace.