The forward element of the boarding party rounded the corridor and detected the heat signatures and charged weapon and fearing another ambush, immediately opened fire.
“Cease fire! Cease Fire!” The team leader yelled. The stack of crates and boxes at the end of the corridor were a mess of debris flying in all directions. it took a few moments but the firing came to a halt. Plasma scorches and glowing craters pock marked the walls and crates. Shreds of sheeting and plasteel drifted in the low g.
The team lead crept closer, weapon ready, allowing his armor’s sensors to collect data. Satisfied that situation was resolved, he stood and strode forward. He reached down brushing aside some debris and picked up a plasma pistol.
“Taped safety, decoy weapon.” He said over the coms. “Throw in a battery powered heater and some crates and you have a decoy ambush. What is this guy doing?”
“I… it’s psychological warfare, man! He’s trying to freak us out!” The corpsman replied, gaze darting around frantically.
Another trooper kicked over the shot up heater. “A ruse? Distraction?”
“I don’t think so,” the team leader replied. Something was nagging on the edge of his consciousness. He mentally reviewed the route they’d been following in his head while pursuing the target. Pursuit? They were supposed to be searching for the target, but the target found them. Naturally, they refocused on pursuit, followed. They learned the hard way to proceed carefully. But, why only use a single grenade when he could have used more? Casualties and searching traps took time and slowed them down! It seemed so obvious now! Distract, redirect, delay!
“He’s not trying to distract us, he’s delaying us, buying time! Shize!” The team leader exclaimed as he slapped the controls on his left wrist activating the communications link between the boarding party and the ship.
“Strike Team Alpha to Command.”
“This is Command, go ahead.”
“Contact has been made with the target. One casualty. I believe the target is drawing us deeper into the ship as a delaying tactic. Recommend redirecting to an overwatch position in case the target tries to make a run for it.”
The com remained silent for a few moments. “Message received. Redirecting to overwatch of the Odyssey. Priority one is retrieving the package, secondary is to eliminate the target. Capture is acceptable if the opportunity presents itself. Out.”
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The team lead severed the comlink. “We’re ending this now. Two at a time, move forward, secure intersection, next pair moves up, double time! Go!”
***
Riordan entered the passcode from memory and ducked inside the hatchway. He didn’t bother to secure it behind him, he wasn’t going to be there when the boarding party arrived. In contrast to the main hangar where the Swindler had been parked, this hangar was mostly clean and orderly with racks of tools and cabinets and tanks of various supplies and fluids. Most of the cabinets were plastered with various decals featuring different company and product names. PSANKO INJECTORS, ANDERSON ARRESTORS, REEDLY , TUFFTAPE, FRANKLIN FINISHES. Ignoring everything else Riordan approached a large oblong object wrapped with woven plasteel tarps and secured to the decking with ratchet straps. He popped the tie downs and pulled the tarps aside to reveal a fully functional championship racing sled.
Their first year together, he and were hired to make a multi
About a year into their partnership he and Jaisen were hired by a wealthy investor to make the direct competitor of his preferred racer’s racing sled disappear. The pilot he sponsored had lost the Galactic Cluster championship to this pilot and sled two years in a row.
They stole the sled and all the support equipment and pulled in a hefty fee. Neither of them had the heart to actually destroy it. The very next year, the investor’s pilot was caught cheating and banned from racing for life and the reigning champion won for a third year in a row with a completely brand new sled. He promptly retired, and opened a sled racing school.
Riordan ran his armored hand along the smooth, glossy, red body in appreciation. The typical racing sled is a very simple craft. It consisted of a rear mounted large displacement ion engine with a variable nozzle surrounded by a framework that held an APU,a fuel tank, the pilot’s seat, and basic instrumentation. The tubular framework was covered by a lightweight carbon fiber and plasteel shell painted in a sponsor’s color scheme and often adorned with multiple logos and decals of minor sponsors. The only safety equipment was an ejection seat for the pilot. No shields and no inertial dampening. The pilot felt every G of acceleration. Life support was provided by an EVA suit. Sled Racing was about more than pushing the limits of the sled, it was also about the endurance and nerve of the pilot. Racing sleds are built for speed and acceleration, in mostly straight lines. If they pilot wasn't careful and fully aware of their own limitations, they extreme g forces could render them unconscious. The thrusters were under-powered and more useful at lower speeds. Most course corrections at racing speeds were accomplished with nozzle vectoring.
Grunting he reached inside the open cockpit and activated the main breakers. He powered up the APU and confirmed fuel levels. He disconnected the umbilical cable from the battery cart and pushed it away. It tumbled in zero gravity. The duo didn’t just steal it and hide it away. How can anyone possess such a magnificent machine and not take her out a few times?
“Riordan to Swindler, are you still there?”
“Roger,” Glori replied. “We’re about five minutes from FTL solution.”
“Any status update on the cruiser?”
“It's still on the other side of the Odyssey last I checked. I severed the link between the sensors and the Swindler, in case they could detect it. We are drifting among the garbage and trying to blend in."
“Smart move! I have the boarding party chasing ghosts and I am about to make my exit. I might even be able to meet up with you before you jump.”
“Roger,...Oh Frek!” The alarm was clear in Glori’s voice.
"What? What is it?" Riordan tapped the side of his helmet, as if that would help. "Swindler!?"
Glori watched in alarm as the aggressive lines of the FRS cruiser crested the silhouette of the much larger colony ship like a shark over a whale carcass. The rhythmic sweep of their active sensors sent the sensor console of the Swindler into a frenzy.
“They’re here!”