A different sort of pirate

Who: You'll see
Where: Inside Venus' orbit, gaining on the BD
When: Just before the detonation
The sleek shuttle darted through the inky void, its windscreen wipers
efficiently removing the ink and allowing its robotic pilot a spectacular
view of the Blue Dwarf and her remora pirate ship. The robot cocked a
metallic eyebrow, knowing that the situation was the kind that would once
have tempted his master into quick, decisive action. But that was before
the career change. That was before the banishment of his master's ethics.
"Coming up on the Blue Dwarf, sir. ETA . . . ninety seconds."
The intercom hummed. "Excellent. Bring us to their portside shuttle bay,
away from the Rapier. I want to steer clear of the debris."
"Yes, sir. Adjusting course." The robot tweaked the shuttle's course, then
tapped the intercom again. "Sir? Might I ask what debris you are referring
to?"
An explosion flashed along the docking ring connecting the two ships, and
chunks of the pirate ship's bow went spinning away. The ships began to
drift away from each other, the Dwarf beginning a gradual turn away from the
sun and the pirate ship spinning lazily onward. "Ah. Never mind, sir."
The robot shook his head, annoyed that this development had surprised him.
Twelve years of working for his master had exposed him to this phenomenon
many times.
The shuttle arced gracefully around to the left side of the Blue Dwarf, then
glided to a perfect landing in the shuttle bay. The security officers were
having a pitched battle with the remaining pirates, and several stray shots
glanced off the shining hull of the shuttle. The robot sighed, then reached
into a small cabinet underneath the main console and removed a bottle of
shuttle polish and a rag. He'd looked forward to a little down time while
his master conducted his business here, but apparently that was going to be
delayed.
A short man in a double-breasted pinstriped ash-gray suit poked his head in
the cockpit with a grin. "See to those weapons marks, would you?"
"Of course, sir." The robot squeezed the bottle of wax with almost enough
force to blow the lid off and spray the contents on the ceiling. Almost.
He'd calculated the force needed to the last decimal, a necessity, as this
was his only means of venting steam.
The man smiled. "Good. We don't want to look shabby. Bad for business,
you know." He stepped back, and the robot heard the boarding ramp lower and
his master's footsteps descending. With every ounce of his free will, he
tried to raise the ramp, launch the shuttle, and be rid of the man he knew
as master. Instead, programmed loyalty safeguards forced him to his feet,
and he headed aft to begin touching up damage to the shuttle. The darkest
part of his free will prayed that a stray shot would put him out of his
misery. The rest of his free will prayed that a stray shot would put his
master out of his misery.
The man reached the deck, took a deep breath, then marched off toward the
Drive Room. Two pirates charged toward him, screaming and waving weapons.
The man simply smiled and tapped a small stud on the handle of his
briefcase, then shimmered out of sight. The pirates stopped and stared,
confusion twisting their already marred faces. Then security shot them full
of holes and they fell to the deck, relieved and quite dead.
In the Drive Room, he reappeared, earning him the attention of just about
everyone. Smiling, he pulled a business card from a vest jacket and handed
it to White Wolf. "James Penfiddle, divorce attorney."
"Divorce . . . what?" White Wolf frowned at the business card. "What are
you doing here?"
Penfiddle coughed politely. "I'm a divorce attorney. I'm here to represent
Cubie Richards in her case against her estranged, and might I add strange,
husband Zack Richards."
White Wolf blinked. "What?! Are you crazy? We're in the middle of a
battle with pirates!! And the Richards have been AWOL since before that!"
Just then, an ST-jump tube opened up in the ceiling and Zack and Cubie
tumbled to the deck, Zack still in his JMC commander uniform. It was
uncertain whether he was still wearing commander insignia, as Cubie's hands
were securely wrapped around his throat. "Sucking face with that hussy!
I'll give you a flip-top head for this!"
" !" was Zack's only reply. His color matched the deep blue of
the JMC command uniform nicely, however. " !"
Several officers pulled Cubie off of Zack, then flew across the room as the
enraged hologram shrugged them off, but before she could leap back on top of
Zack, Penfiddle stepped in between them and handed her a card. "Before you
do anything that might adversely affect your case, we need to talk."
Cubie snatched the card and glared at it, her expression shifting rapidly
from murderous rage to amused confusion. "You're a divorce lawyer?"
Penfiddle smiled a smile that caused everyone in the room to check their
wallets. "Of course. I sensed a disturbance in the Force, and came as
quickly as I could."
" !" said the hapless Zack, just before he passed out.
~The Richards and the Lawyer~