...without a paddle.

[Patrician]

Cooper amused himself by placing mental bets on the cockroaches racing across his holding cell when the sound of the door locks disengaging roused him. As his attorney walked in, frowning, Frank forced himself to keep a straight face. 'Been talking to Trenton, looks like.'

'You are free to go. Your crew has also been released and is awaiting you at the ship impound.' His annoyance was plain to see. 'Must get a commission for every soul sold to the prison/factories' Cooper thought.

'Oh yeah? How'd that happen?' Frank just couldnt resist baiting the man.

'Seems your friend has connections that pointed out certain...irregularities in your arrest.' Oh yeah, he was mad.

'Hmph. Irregularities like wrongful arrest, unnecessary use of force, those sort of irregularities?'

'Just get out of here, you filthy Junker,' the man hissed.

'Right.' Not even bothering to conceal his smile now, Frank brushed past the man and followed the guards to impound. His crew were waiting, seemingly none the worse for wear. They do look confused though, Frank thought, with a chuckle.

Frank grinned at them. 'All ABOARD!' Frank walked up to his first mate, a man name Otto. 'Otto, there is no WAY these goons didnt put trackers or something in the Krate. Search the ship top to bottom before we take off. Otto nodded and walked towards the ship. Good man, Otto. Doesnt run his gob a lot.

Frank boarded the ship, savoring the smells of his vessel; smells that would be considered foul to others just smelled like home to him. After giving a loving caress of his chair arm, stained as it was by ashes and coffee, Frank sent a comm towards Puerto Rico.

'Thanks, JT. I owe you and the Congress one. Im yer man. Fer now.'