The Pilot

First thing in the morning, Kieran made a cup of coffee in his hotel room. He had slept well that night, which was good, for he had scheduled a long flight for today. After he had finished his coffee, Kieran gathered up the few belongings he had brought into the hotel room and walked down to the lobby to check out. He swiped his ID card across the register and tapped the screen to agree to payment. The main gate opened, and he stepped outside to the docks.

“This is a very nice planet,” remarked Kieran. “Good weather. The sun seems to be about the right temperature.”

He walked along the side of the docks to find his ship. Since he was piloting a large freighter, it was parked in one of the outer bays. It would be a bit of a walk. Kieran was an avid admirer of ships, and he always enjoyed looking at the various types that were always parked at a busy hotel like this. There were some very expensive personal speeders, built for quick travel for those who needed to travel across the galaxy regularly—often government officials and company executives. Then there were the standard personal ships, often used by ordinary families on vacation or by normal people on their way to visit friends or family. Occasionally, there might be a military fighter, fully loaded with weapons, but these were generally peaceful days, and in they weren’t often seen far from their own bases.

Then, of course, as he reached the outer docks, there were the larger spacecraft—freighters and passenger haulers. Today, there was a massive tourist cruise ship docked in one of the first spots. This one could probably carry several thousand people, and it likely was used for vacations and such. Finally, Kieran came to his own freighter, the Fairweather. The Fairweather was an excellent freighter. It was a custom-built Conero FT-47 that Kieran had purchased at a bargain from its original owner. It had excellent cruising speeds, maximum civilian shields, and even some respectable defensive weapons to counter pirates. Kieran had sold everything he owned to buy it, but it was an excellent source of income for him now.

Kieran was a private trader and freighter. It was an exciting career. No two days were the same, and he was able to travel to every corner of the galaxy. Some days, he would go shopping in the bazaars of some remote planet, searching for a good deal on something he could sell at one of the trade centers. Other days, he took on freight jobs that were too dangerous or inconvenient for the major shipping companies. Today was one of those days.

Kieran was set to meet with an anonymous client on a nearby planet in several minutes, so he climbed into his cockpit and took off from the planet where he had spent the night. Within a few minutes, he had reached the client’s planet and had requested entry permission from the local authorities.

“What is your business here?” came the voice over his radio.

“I’m here to pick up a cargo shipment,” he replied.

“Do you have anything to declare?”

“No.”

“Come on in, then.”

Kieran began to descend towards the planet. He had been given coordinates for a private dock where he would be able to load the cargo. A minute later, he had landed his ship and climbed out of his cockpit.

He looked around for the contact, but there was no one in sight. Kieran was used to unexpected delays on jobs like this, so he sat down and waited for someone to come.

He noticed that this seemed to be a rather old warehouse. Much of the loading equipment was rusty, and it was obviously made before some of the modern advances in architecture. There was a faded sign on one of the doors that read, “Stellar Products Corporation.” Kieran knew that company had been bought out years ago, so this location must have been repurposed and never rebranded.

Finally, after a few more minutes, a young man hobbled around the corner of the warehouse. He seemed to be in pain when he stepped on his left foot.

“Ah, you must be Kieran,” the man said.

Kieran nodded. He never asked his clients more questions than they offered to tell him—even something as simple as a name.

“Are you ready to load the cargo?” the man asked.

Kieran nodded again. “Just let me know where to hook up.”

The man’s face turned a bit red. “Our…uh…power has been out lately, so we’ll have to load it by hand. Thankfully, there’s not too much—only a few crates.”

Kieran shrugged. “There will be an extra charge, but if you’re okay with that, then we’ll be fine.”

“That’s fine,” said the man. “Just let us know what the total will be once it’s delivered.” He turned and pointed towards the main building. “The boxes are in there.”

Kieran and the man walked into the warehouse. It was mostly dark inside, and it was completely full. Most of the boxes in the warehouse were covered with old canvas tarps and lots of dust.

“This is all very important,” said the man. “We’ve got to be careful in here.”

Kieran just nodded.

The man led him all the way to the back, where there was a shelf with several small metal boxes.

“This is the cargo,” he said.

Kieran was surprised. It seemed that these should be able to fit into anyone’s personal ship. Why would they pay him to carry it?

“Does this cargo have any special handling requirements?” he asked. “I require all additionally safety factors to be disclosed, as it will affect the rates.”

The man hesitated for a moment. “They are extremely valuable,” he said. “We are hiring you to carry them for insurance purposes.”

“Any cargo worth over a million pounds will need a special form and fee,” said Kieran.

“Does that require disclosure of the contents?” asked the man.

“No,” replied Kieran. “Although, if it contains contraband, I can’t take it for you. I’m not willing to risk my license and ship for one job.”

“Oh, no,” replied the man quickly. “It’s not illegal. I’ll fill out the form for you.”

They carried the metal boxes back to Kieran’s ship, and Kieran loaded it into the cargo hold.

Once the man had finished signing the papers, he handed them back to Kieran. He took a quick look at them before getting into the cockpit.

“Ten trillion pounds!” he exclaimed.

“Are you able to handle it?” asked the man. “Better to back out now than later.”

“Of course,” replied Kieran. “But you’d better expect a significant insurance fee on your bill.”

The man nodded, “I understand.”

Kieran boarded his freighter and climbed back into the cockpit. He lifted off the planet and set his ship toward the delivery destination.

He was headed toward another branch of the galaxy, so even at maximum speed, it would take him many hours to arrive. After they cleared the local star system, he could enable autopilot, but with such an expensive cargo, he wanted to stay alert for any trouble anyways.

The Fairweather had a full living area. It was very cramped, so Kieran usually preferred not to sleep in it overnight, but it was certainly enough to live in if he needed to. Once the ship was set in its autopilot route, he stepped back into the little kitchen to get some food. He hadn’t really had breakfast, and he was pretty hungry. Kieran opened his cupboard and took out a cup of instant mac and cheese. He added some water and put it in his microwave. Four minutes later, it was cooked.

After he finished his food, he walked back into the cockpit. The computer screen showed a map of the planned route. It said there were 18 hours and 47 minutes left till arrival. Kieran tapped on the keypad to run a piracy analysis on the route. It lit up green on all systems. He nodded his head in approval. This wasn’t a time to take any risky shortcuts.

Kieran pulled out his laptop and put on a movie. This was a long trip, and it could be pretty boring if he didn’t do something to keep himself busy. Thankfully, he was an avid movie watcher and book reader. He had a shelf in one of the storage bays that he kept stocked with books he wanted to read, and he always downloaded several movies to his laptop as well.

After the movie was completed, Kieran took some time to enjoy the view outside his window. He was flying through a very beautiful part of the galaxy. Great pillars of luminescent gas towered around him, stretching light years across. They reminded him of the towers of the castles in fairy tales. In this part of the galaxy, there were no hospitable planets, so other than a few other travelers, there probably no other humans within hours of him

Or perhaps not.

Kieran was startled to see a notification come up on his communications panel. Someone was trying to contact him with a short-range radio signal.

He accepted the call.

A fuzzy, computerized voice on the other end said, “FT-47 pilot, you are being directed to halt for boarding. Shut off power to all engines now.”

Kieran was used to this. Often, scammers would set bots up to try and interrupt trade routes. They generally posed no threat and would take a small fee in exchange for “protection.”

“My apologies,” he replied coolly. “I’m on a tight shipping schedule, and I don’t have time to deal with you.” If this was some amateur pirate, this would be enough to scare them off.

At first, there was no reply. Then a woman’s voice across the radio. “FT-47, you are advised to halt immediately. If not, we will be required to disable your ship.”

Apparently, this was not a scammer bot.

“Who is this?” he asked. “Are you a legal trade authority?”

The voice replied, “Pilot, we are warming up our lasers.”

Ordinarily, Kieran might have complied, but given his current cargo, he did not think that would be wise.

He replied, “I’m warming up my shields.”

And he was none too soon. Seconds after the Fairweather’s shields had come up, he was hit with a powerful laser beam. Based on its frequency, it didn’t seem to be from a police weapon. Immediately, alarms started going off on his dashboard, but his shields were more than powerful enough to prevent any damage.

Apparently, the attacker realized this, for a moment later, the laser disappeared. Kieran set his ship to full speed. Hopefully, they would give up as he flew out of range.

However, the woman spoke again over the radio, “Pilot, you must stop, or we will send in attackers to disable your ship.”

“Any attackers will be destroyed,” Kieran replied. “If you want my cargo, you can’t have it.”

The woman replied, “Pilot, we have reason to believe that you are carrying a very dangerous cargo, and we need to stop you before someone gets hurt.”

How could they know what he was carrying? Kieran didn’t even know himself.

“Who are you?” he asked. “I’m under a contract to deliver this cargo, and its safety is none of my concern. I understand that I have no contraband or stolen materials on board this craft.”

“Pilot, although your statements are technically correct, we know that the materials you are transferring are intended for use by a terrorist organization. Please stop your craft, and we will come on board to speak with you.”

With this knowledge, Kieran agreed to stop, as long as his attackers agreed not to bring any weapons with them.

Once he stopped, a small attack speeder uncloaked in front of him, and he opened his boarding dock. When the bridge opened between them, a young woman came on board his ship.

She was wearing a uniform—white, not blue, like the usual military police. There were a number of insignias on her uniform, as well as gold stripes on her shoulders. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun.

The woman held out her hand to shake Kieran’s. “I apologize for not introducing myself over the radio,” she said. “We make it a policy not to give out any information on unencrypted radio signals.”

“I understand,” replied Kieran. “No hard feelings.”

“I work for a nonprofit called Intergalactic Freedom Collective. Our purpose is to interfere with terrorist organizations and criminal leagues and protect the safety of the people. Our biggest operation is the interception of slave traders. However, we also occasionally do other work, like what I’m doing now.”

“Very interesting,” replied Kieran.

“Pilot—uh, what is your name?”

“Kieran.”

“Kieran, how much do you know about the company you’re taking this shipment for?” she asked.

“Absolutely nothing,” he replied. “Except for the location of one of their warehouses.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, you have taken on a contract with one a small terrorist group. Most likely, they wanted you because your record is clean.”

Kieran nodded.

“However, we cannot let them have this shipment. The contents of those boxes could result in the deaths of thousands.”

“Are you aware of their cost?” asked Kieran. “They won’t overlook this if I do not deliver it as expected.”

“That is certainly a difficulty,” she replied. “You could tell them that pirates stole it from you.”

“If they really are such bad people as you’re saying, I can’t imagine that will turn out well for me. Besides, a loss of that size will make my insurance rates go up beyond belief.”

“Perhaps it would be best for you to openly take it from them,” she replied.

“And how do you expect I will not be killed if I do that?” he asked.

“You could join our organization,” she replied. “We could always use more talented pilots.”