Psawhn: I am in a position to intercept your target. Would you like assistance?
Quigley overheard the exchange and keyed his mike.
Quigley: Freelancer three dash nine, this is the Cerulean Dream. We'd appreciate any help you can muster. We're in pursuit of a Starflier, Sigma three dash two.
Psawhn: Got his trajectory. Uplinking to your neural net.
Quigley saw a waypoint appear on his nav map. The point was one 100+ klicks about, but Danson had to be along that line.
Quigley: Terra, Connor, I've got a trajectory. Form up on me.
Quigley activated his cruise engine and slewed his fighter in line with point. The other two stayed in perfect formation. The other two pilots flew wierd craft he'd never seen before. Terra seemed to be flying a cobbled together wreck probably held together with spit and space tape. Connor, on the other hand, flew a well- engineered heavy fighter. Quigley's cpu could pin the type, but it looked a lot like the Liberty Defender.
Psawhn: Dream, what did this poor sap do to get you guys and that Drake on his tail?
Quigley cursed. A Drake? He had flown with a flew Kusari snubjockies. They were decidedly of the opinion to shoot first and let the Junkers sort it out.
Quigley: That poor sap is a former client of mine. He neglected to pay. I came looking for him, and he bolted. I don't want him slagged. I just want to calm him down and get my credits. I hope he doesn't do anything stupid and get himself killed. Your welcome to join us if you want.
Psawhn: Don't mind if I do.
JEDI ERRANT
For the joy of smoting.
"You're clever than you look, Q" ~Bond
"Better than looking clever than you are, 007" ~Q