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Dr. Christian Rijkard manipulated the outrigger controls with consummate skill. He ran the middle finger of his right hand over the heat-sensitive navigation pad as he rotated the axis lever in his left, willing the ship through the asteroid field with little concern for the apparent danger lurking just outside the plastisteel windows. A subtle touch here, a gentle nudge on the lever there and the swift ship darted from point-to-point at his whim.
Occasionally he glanced up at the wireframe images that supposedly held the outrigger’s true safety in its virtual display, only to sniff quietly at what he instinctively knew already and then return his attention to the transparent window before him. He much preferred flying this way. His own skills were far better than those of the auto pilot, and he could navigate any asteroid field faster than the specs said was possible. This field was denser than most. All the better to scramble tracer signals and leave their angry pursuers far behind.
After another hour had passed like spare minutes to the man, he gently released the controls and clicked on the auto pilot, its quiet hum the first sign of mechanized control the ship had displayed in the nearly six hours since their hasty departure from the holding bay of the Starliner Vixis. Rijkard swiveled his chair on the pilots deck to face the empty cabin. It was devoid of any chairs or features of comfort save the coffin of blue metal that held the body of Sire Dane Cochrane in stasis.
Rijkard switched off the restrictor plates that held the cabin rear door locked and sealed, indicating to his companion that the danger of distraction was past. They were now safe enough to allow the auto pilot to navigate them and their precious cargo to their illegally established jump point. Just an hour more and they would be safely through the hyper-dimensional vortex and back in the friendly confines of home space, then but a few more hours to traverse and once again they would find themselves secure behind the Defensive Shield.
Rijkard stretched and rubbed at a clenched muscle in his left bicep as he walked to the rear of the cabin, than snapped his arm forward in a flash, like a warrior’s killing blow. He felt the muscle release as if on command. He rubbed at it once again as the access door to the sleeping berths slid open at his approach.
He glanced at the blue sarcophagus holding Sire Dane Cochrane in stasis as he passed. He paused to bend over the control panel displaying Dane’s vital signs, checking the relays for optimum performance. Once satisfied he sniffed again and crossed the threshold to the rear cabin. Twin sets of bunk beds lined either side of the tiny room. A single door led to the open bathroom, small sink, toilet, and a vacuum shower visible just beyond. A second door to his left, closed tight, led to the cargo hold.
Rijkard turned as the sound of a woman moaning softly came from the lower bunk to his right. She lay on the bed with a small skin bandage on her left forearm, the opposite hand held to her head. Rijkard allowed himself a small smile.
“Colonel Noiman, who gave you permission to lie down on duty?”
“None asked for,” she replied, rubbing her temples now with both hands as she sat up. “I can’t imagine what this would feel like without the immunity pill.”
Rijkard sat next to her and took her hands in his, as a father might to a daughter. She closed her eyes against the pounding in her head. “You should rest more,” he said. She shook her head. “Plenty of time for that back home. Now I have work to do,” she stood unsteadily, gathering her tattered evening gown as she went directly to the stasis box holding Dane. Rijkard followed.
“And how is our prize?” she asked. Rijkard decided to humor her for the moment.
“He sleeps like the dead. The Lady Calinda was extremely helpful in his capture. Excepting of course for the minor sidetrack with those PKI vermin,” he said. She smiled a bit at this, then held onto the stasis box for support as she spoke.
“The Lady Calinda will not be needed again, thankfully, nor her outrageous gown. Time we put her to rest for good, I think.”
“Rest is not bad advice for the Colonel either,” he said. She smiled back at him, her eyes narrowing as if she might pass out. Rijkard moved to her side. She gripped his black tunic for support.
“I want to see him,” Rijkard sighed in resignation but said nothing, his hands keying in the code to slide open the viewing glass. She leaned close over the box, glaring in at their prisoner floating in near-death, Dane’s face white as a ghost.
“He looks dead.”
“He’s not.”
“Well, if I have my way that will soon be rectified,” With a quickness that belied her condition she grabbed a coil pistol from the armory on the near wall and powered it up, releasing the safety. Stepping back from the box she pointed the pistol at Dane’s head.
“Axel,” said Rijkard in a soft but even tone, “I don’t think General Tannace will be happy about any unnecessary killing.”
“I am not concerned about Tannace. They took my sister from me. I will take the pleasure of killing Cochrane.”
He moved a step closer to her as she held the pistol less and less steadily.
“Axel, we agreed on this. The General wants him brought back to the Sanctuary. Then you can execute him, after the public trial, if that’s your wish. I’ll see to it personally,” She looked at him again, eyes glazing over.
“You will?”
“I promise.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, he has to die now. For Aria.” Rijkard spoke to her slowly and evenly.
“He will be tried for his family’s crimes.”
She shook her head again. “I will kill him myself. Here. Now,” her hand wavered, index finger poised on the firing trigger.
“Axel! No!” Rijkard reached out and grabbed the gun from her hand in a flash of motion. “This is too much! We are in danger here and we must get through the jump point before the Vixis finds us.”
She looked at him through half open eyelids as he holstered the pistol and swung a supporting hand around her waist. “We go home then?” she asked, her rage dissipating. His manner became gentle again. The stungas undoubtedly was still influencing her.
“No, not home, not Quantar yet. We go to the Sanctuary.”
“The Sanctuary?” she questioned weakly as Rijkard led her by the arm back toward the sleeping berth.
“Yes,” he said softly as she lay back down, her eyes already closing. “We go to Earth.”
Then he shut down the cabin lights, and turned quietly back to his pilot’s nest.