The Bray Keaven continues slowing for orbital insertion as the two mining cutters and the slow boat continue on their intercept course, closing now to almost 10 thousand kilometers.
Argent turns to Vargas and replies, "I believe that you are right in your assessment. I do think that these guys are serious and afraid of their leader. Probably has their families under the gun if they fail. Poor bastards. Please plot a course to avoid them as much as possible and still get into orbit for a proper deorbit into Bromley."
Argent turns to Vasilii, and says, "If they light us up with active sensors, return the favor and see if you can tell what we’re facing weapon wise."
As if on cue, the two mining cutters go to active sensor mode and Vasilii bends over his console in deep concentration and mutters, "If this tub had any decent sensors, we could have picked them up before we were almost on top of them."
When Ian breathlessly arrives bearing gifts and asks about battle conditions, Argent agrees with him. "Yes, you’re right, Ian. I’ll cue the crew." He then keys the internal comm and announces, "Crew, we're going to go to Navy battle standard conditions. Lights will be dimmed to night red, and air pressure will be set to very thin to minimize the effects of decompression. Gravity will remain as is."
At this point, the slow boat alters course angling away from the Bray Keaven while the mining cutters continue on their approach. The slow boat makes another plea as it angles away. "Bray Keaven! Please! You will cease your orbital approach immediately and allow the Imperial Lingdsonland cutters to come along side for an inspection!"
Argent replies, "Lingsdonland boats. Again, we are under Imperial Noble charter to deliver our medical supplies to Bromley which is affected by the plague outbreak. Our information indicates that Lingsdonland is currently unaffected by the plague, and your Illustrious Leader will be safer if he lets us pass and deliver the supplies which may help stop the plague before it gets to Lingsdonland. Do not forget that the Imperial Navy interdiction cruiser Wall of Stone and her consorts are in the system and we are under their protection."
The slow boat, now accelerating away from the Bray Keaven, retorts, "We will take the supplies now! Our best pilots are in the cutters, and we will retrieve the supplies for our Illustrious Leader one way or another. If you do not alter course away from orbital insertion and continuing slowing in one minute, we will fire."
At this point, Vasilii mutters, "Best pilots? Best pilots? I’ve seen Merchant trainees who look like better pilots. It’s a pity that we can’t sell them some training. Maybe later."
In a louder voice, Vasilii continues, "I can’t do much with these sensors, Captain. I think that the two cutters are just armed with a single mining laser each, but I can’t make out any armaments on the slow boat."
-----
Swann listens to the information coming from the bridge while he watches the cutters approach through the turret’s targeting system. "Mining lasers," he mutters to himself. "What are they thinking? Why don’t they just throw rocks at us?"
-----
Argent says, "Thank you, Vasilii. Please assist Swann with targeting and let the computer target the trailing cutter, designated LCutter Bravo.
"Vargas? Please continue to plot a course for orbital insertion and away from these fools as much as possible."
"I’m on it."
"Swann? Please target the lead cutter, designated LCutter Alpha. If they open fire or close to within 5K klicks, fire upon LCutter Alpha."
-----
Swann shifts the targeting system, and puts his crosshairs squarely on the lead cutter, currently a small dot which is quickly blossoming into a real target. "They’re just coming straight at us," he thinks. "This is going to be like shooting P’wtang in a barrel."
-----
"Man, I hate the waiting," Ian thinks. "And the inertial dampeners mean you can’t even feel what’s going on from here. First thing you know about anything is bits of shrapnel flying around. Doo be doo. Can’t wipe the sweat off your hands in a suit, either. Gotta get my mind off it. Let’s see. ‘Aboard the good ship Venus, by God you should have seen us, the figurehead was in . . .’ Wait, damn! Why didn’t I think of this before?"
As Ian reaches out his hand to touch the comm, it comes to life.
-----
"Argent to crew. I’m afraid that we won’t be able to talk our way past. Looks like they are really du. . . "
Vasilii suddenly yells, "Power spike in the lead cutter!"
The lead cutter opens fire, and Argent yanks the controls feverishly, throwing the Bray Keaven into a roll.
-----
"Crap. I guess I’ll have to wait now. That was quick anyway, so they probably wouldn’t have gone for it. Poor suckers in those tubs. Perhaps as a consolation prize — assuming we win. I’ll buzz the Captain later and see if we can just drop a case full of antivirals out the back with a beacon on it, enough for the Illustrious Leader, a few of his cronies, and the crew and their families. That way they might not be executed if we win. Can’t say anything right now though, it wouldn’t help."
-----
Swann anticipates the Bray Keaven’s roll, compensating by shifting his targeting to keep LCutter Alpha in the crosshairs. As soon as he feels the roll halt, he quickly readjusts his targeting. "I have you now," he says as the crosshairs embrace the cutter. Swann fires with both lasers.
He watches as the twin laser blasts jump across space and strike the cutter. "I hope your families have insurance," he says to himself. "Too bad your Illustrious Leader isn’t riding with you. He deserves a taste of what you're getting."
I have to say I'm empathising with Ian, always thinking of the perfect solution just after it's too late
Say, you're not looking for more players are yah? This game's given me hope that you can actualy have a decent and long-lasting 'Play-by-post' game. I've tried IRC/PvP games before, and all came to a rapid and disorganised end
Saro Talbek sits strapped in one of the jump seats in the lounge. He is no stranger to tense situations, but the fact that this one is totally out of his control unnerves him. As is his custom, he starts speaking to himself softly, mulling things over.
"I wonder what would be the best thing to do after we land? While the excursion to KGL might work, my skills would probably be of more use treating patients. There might be a way to develop our own vaccine, or to look into altering the local pharmaceutical plants to produce the effective antivirals.
"I need to talk to Martha further. She might have been exposed and still she did not develop any symptoms. She might just have the right antibody in her bloodstream. With the help of the flow cytometers and some chromatography equipment, we might be able to isolate them. Of course, we could try this in the five percent of people who do not develop the symptoms.
"We also need to develop a faster diagnostic test than viral cultures. I wish I had thought of this sooner. Perhaps we can ask the scientists at the Wall to beam us a DNA sequence from the virus that is unique to it and we could use simple sequencers to determine who has the virus in the bloodstream. The procedure could take less than 10 minutes.
"Of course, right now I just want to land and get to work. I can’t bear the thought of all of those people needing attention and some unscrupulous individuals trying to steal the medications."
His steady hands, surgeon’s hands, rest in his lap while he thinks. The sounds of combat shake him from his soliloquy.
"I’m certainly grateful to be with others who are so dedicated and skilled. We’ll be OK."
-----
The lead cutter’s mining laser fires at the Bray Keaven, but Argent’s snap roll takes the ship out of the brunt of the shot, which results in some minor surface scoring amidships but no real damage.
Swann’s return fire lashes out across the vacuum and smashes into the lead cutter. The first laser hits toward the cutter’s engines while the second hits squarely on the cutter’s nose–mounted sensor array. The cutter’s engines seem to sputter but then kicked back in, and the cutter seems to be erratically casting about as if unsure which way to go.
The Bray Keaven continues in her erratic maneuvers, and the port laser does not fire for what seems like an endless time. Argent is about to ask Vasilii if the computer is tracking the trailing cutter when the port laser finally fires. Perhaps out of pure luck or a sincere desire by Martha’s baby not to get hurt, the computer–controlled port turret’s shot strikes the trailing cutter squarely on the maneuver drives as the cutter is banking and trying to line the Keaven up for a run. Nothing seems to happen for a few seconds. Then, there is a visible shudder through the cutter, a puff of red– and yellow–tinged atmosphere vents through the holes in the hull, and the mining cutter’s maneuver drive goes dead.
-----
Vasilii looks up from his scanners in puzzlement and asks Vargas, "Emile? I thought that you said the port laser wasn’t completely calibrated?"
"Somebody out there must like us," Vargas replies. "The turret wasn’t completely calibrated. Either that or someone’s a hell of a better gunner than they’re letting on," he adds with disbelief in his voice.
-----
Though unable to complete its turn, the second cutter manages to get one shot off before the Keaven passes beyond its arc of fire. However, Argent’s maneuvers cause the shot to miss completely. The cutter then continues on its ballistic coarse heading away from the Keaven and Alief.
The slow boat, angling away from the action, has slipped to the extreme edge of the Keaven’s sensors. A few beats after the second cutter fires, the external comm crackles to life again with a transmission from the slow boat.
"Merchant ship. Cease fire, please cease fire! There has been a terrible misunderstanding, and the officers on the cutters will be punished. Please cease fire. I have received new information that indicates our Illustrious Leader was misinformed about your cargo, and he is now convinced that you only have medicines onboard.
"Furthermore, he asked me to see if we could come to some sort of understanding about acquiring a very small portion of the cargo for research purposes? Please?" the slow boat’s captain finishes rather plaintively.
Argent taps his comm switch to reply. "I’m sorry, captain, but I’ve no control over the distribution of the cargo," he says. "Instruct your cutter to give us a wide berth; any untoward moves will be construed as an attack and we will act accordingly. Bray Keaven out."
Flipping his external comms off, the captain switches on the internal comms. "Swann, you keep a lock on that second cutter until they’re out of range. Make sure they know you’re locked on."
-----
"You got it, Captain," Swann says, keeping the lasers locked onto LCutter Alpha. He takes a couple of deep breaths, more than a little surprised that the fight is over so quickly. He continues to monitor the cutter closely. "I’m glad we got that other turret working. This ol’ ship is a real trooper. Maybe it’s all that TLC it gets from Martha."
-----
With that, Argent angles the ship back onto its original approach vector and heads for the pre-arranged landing zone.
The lead cutter seems to be moving fairly clumsily, but eventually manages to get roughly pointed in the direction of the Bray Keaven. The cutter continues closing the distance to the Bray while the slow boat also begins closing again. All the while, Swann keeps the cutter firmly targeted.
-----
Ian takes advantage of the break in the action to key the comm to the bridge. "Captain? Those poor suckers in the tubs probably are caught between a rock and a hard place. Rather than risking another attack, maybe we can drop a few courses of antivirals out of an airlock with a beacon for them to pick up? Just enough for the idiot leader, a few of his cronies, and the crew. I’d rather not have those suckers executed just for being tromped."
-----
Before Argent can reply, the external comm crackles to life again. "Bray Keaven? Please come in. Look, we need a small number of samples for research. I have been authorized to offer 1 million lingonsallers for each course of effective antivirals that you provide to us. I have enough cash onboard for 20 courses. What do you say?"
-----
As Swann listens, his targeting crosshairs momentarily change to credit signs. "I wonder how much a lingonsaller is worth offplanet?" he thinks as he continues to track LCutter Alpha. "I hope the Captain had Vasilii strapped in, else he’s probably halfway to the cargo hold by now."
Then another thought occurs to Swann. "This could all be a ruse."
He keys the internal comm. "Captain, my target is closing. At what range am I authorized to fire again?"
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Saro hits the button on the intercomm and tries to speak. It is obvious he doesn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but he needs to speak his mind. "Mr. McConnell. Captain. While I commend you for your compassion and I do feel for these unfortunates, the drugs do not belong to us. If the info we have on Lingsdonland is correct, those drugs are going to benefit the people in Bromley much more. As it is, there probably are many more people affected by AHV than the number of courses of antivirals that we have.
"If what they need is info on the drugs, I am more than happy to transfer to them all the monographs I have which include molecular structure, interactions, production, safety, and all the data on the clinical trials. They don’t have to pay for it, either. If they have the plants and the know-how, they could even produce them in small quantities from the monographs. That is what I think, anyway."
-----
Vasilii hears the communication and glances over to the Captain. Wondering how Argent will react, he decides to check the computer for a list of the most recent currency exchange rates for Alief.
He quickly starts combing the computer for information about exchange rates. "Damn pity that this planet doesn’t have a proper info net! Let’s see here," he thinks to himself as he starts his hunt.
He turns to Argent as he finds some information. "Captain? I have no information on the exchange rate for lingonsallers to Imperial credits, probably because Lingsdonland has been pretty hostile to Imperials. I do have exchange rates for Imperials to Bromlian pounds: the rate is around 10 pounds to a credit. My gut tells me that the exchange rate for Lingonsallers to Bromlian pounds can't be too good though given their isolationist stance, so exchanging them to Imperials isn’t going net us a million credits for a million Lingonsallers. The exchange rate from Bromlian pounds to Lingonsallers could be anything from 1 to 5 to as high as 1 to 20. Still, a small profit is still a small profit."
Vasilii pauses for a moment to allow the Captain to contemplate this, then continues. "Captain, we are unsure of the total extent of the spread of this plague on this world. Perhaps travelers have spread the infection to this Lingsdonland like they did to those cities and the Wall of Stone.
"One or two doses will not be enough in themselves to turn the tide of the infection in Medway, but maybe Lingsdonland can use them to synthesize something to help any infected persons in their country.
"At worst, it will give Mr. Hellinic and Mr. McConnell some planetary currency to spend on their ‘vacation.’ If they are successful, that might be worth a lot more than a couple of doses of antivirals."
Vasilii turns back to the sensor screen and watches the cutter approach. As insurance, he prepares to throw random scanner frequencies into space, trying to confuse the cutter’s targeting.
-----
Argent taps the internal comms as he continues on course for the planet. "Target the port turret on the slow boat, Swann, and put one across their bow the minute either one of those bastards cross into range," he orders. "I want it clear to them that they get no closer.
"And I have to agree with Saro; we don’t have the authority to distribute even a small portionof the cargo," Argent continues. "Saro, go ahead and prepare the information for download, then stand by."
-----
Over the comm, Ian adds, "Well guys, 20 million Lingsdonland peso’s has to at least buy us a round of drinks. More to the point, these suckers up here with us and/or their families might get the chop for failure. I figure their Illustrious Leader will simply gobble up whatever we give him — since taking them beforehand makes you immune — whilst maybe sending the information off to a bunch of docs to help out the rest of the population. How about we slip them a bunch of placebos in the original packaging, keep the contents for proper delivery, collect the cash, save the crews, and laugh behind El Illustrios’ back all the way to the bank?"
To himself, Ian thinks, "I’ll bet Swann and Vasilii will bite at this one. Shame Argent always seems so straight-laced. Also, in the best of circumstances, if the plague actually makes it to Lingsdonland along with the cure, the guy might just snuff it thinking that he’s immune. Now that would be poetic justice."
-----
Switching to externals, the Captain injects a little Naval authority into his voice as he calls up Vasilii’s information on "ligonsallers" on his terminal. "First things first, captain. Keep yourself and your cutter outside of our weapons range; we will finish what we started if you don’t back the hell off. Now, on the other matter, the best I can do for you is to teach you to fish. Make an offer."
-----
Dr. Talbek unstraps himself and tries to make his way to the cabin where the data disks and laptop are. "Well, at least I am on the same level as the cabin." He struggles, holding on to the walls and the table. "Tailored my ass. I can barely breathe in this suit. Maybe it’s all those carbohydrates."
When he finally makes it to the cabin he takes the laptop, hooks it up to the ship's network, fires up the Imperial Drug Registry, 987th Edition and retrieves the info on the antivirals. He then comms the bridge. "I’m ready, Captain."
While Vasilii is doing his research, Swann keeps the starboard laser firmly targeted on the cutter. Vasilii finally remembers to switch the computer targeting for the port laser to the slow boat after he finishes his research and then prepares to attempt sensor jamming.
The slow boat and cutter are both well within the Bray Keaven’s weapon range already. The cutter is at 6 thousand kilometers and closing slowly, the slow boat is at 7k and closing. The Keaven’s lasers actually have a much further range than its sensors can see — about 15k.
Swann watches the range click down and again asks, "Captain? At what range do you want me to fire off that warning shot?"
-----
Before Argent can answer, the slow boat comms the Keaven again: "Merchant ship? What do you mean by fishing? Would you be willing to provide detailed information on how to produce the antivirals ourselves? If so, could we purchase that information from you and maybe four courses of the antivirals for our Illustrious Leader and his family? We could give you the 20 million Lingonsallers that we have onboard in trade. What do you say?"
Argent feels he has a fairly wide latitude in dealing with the locals. Giving some courses of antivirals would probably raise a few eyebrows, but could be considered fair given the situation. That doesn’t mean that the Imperial Marines wouldn’t pay Lingsdonland a later visit for trying to impede a vessel under Imperial charter, but the crew probably wouldn’t be reprimanded. Giving basic information in a publicly available reference would be fine for medicine; giving weapons related information wouldn’t be.
-----
Saro collects his information and prepares a data packet. The data packet doesn’t contain detailed information on how to prepare the antivirals, but it would give an Imperial–grade facility a good start on how to create the antivirals. Whether or not a tech 6-8 facility could produce the antivirals is another matter.
-----
Martha chimes in on the discussion. "Captain, a data packet isn’t going to help them without the proper facilities to produce those drugs. They don’t even have the capacity to safely induce cold sleep; I’m certain that they won’t be able to understand, much less produce or mass produce, any of the antivirals. I don't know anything about medicine, but I do know interior biosensors for anti-hijacking programs. You can’t get anything decent on a molecular level for sensors below TL10 or so."
She pauses, then adds, "Sharing that info, whether we get creds out of it or not, will have another affect, though. It’ll create a market, legit or not, for advanced medical tech that’ll be needed to produce these drugs. Something to think about."
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"Well, we don’t really know what facilities they have, although I agree that probably they can’t produce the antivirals," Saro says. "The information in the data packet is publicly available if you know where to look. With their isolationist stance, Lingsdonland probably doesn’t have access to it, though. It is certainly not a pharmacological recipe, although a talented pharmacologist will know what to do with it.
"I do not believe it’s worth money, and my intention was to provide information on the drugs that they need so that then they can either produce them, however unlikely, or trade for them, in a legal and transparent way. At least it would look like these sods accomplished something, although we have no real indication that they are going to be executed if they do not. Perhaps I’m just a backwater surgeon, but I do not know how easy it would be to find a space faring crew in Lingsdonland. I’ll go along with whatever is decided, though."
-----
Swann keys the internal comm again. "Could someone please ask our impending business partners to change course so I won’t have to shoot them again."
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Ian says over the comm to Argent, "Whatever you decide, just make sure we choose the method of delivery and which ship if any comes close to us to do it. One or all of them are going to have a boarding party onboard."
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Seeming to come to a snap decision, Argent flips the external comms switch. "Slow boat captain. First, you have 30 seconds to order your cutter to break off immediately, or else all you’ll be getting is a fast trip to oblivion," he says. "Once your cutter is away, we will dock with you and deliver the four courses and the information we have for 20 million lingonsallers. Do we have a deal?"
-----
Vasilii looks down at his sensor screens with the faintest smile on his face. "Let's see," he muses, "even if Lingonsallers are 20:1 against Bromlian pounds, that will be 1 million pounds. Those pounds are going at 10 to one Imperial credit, so we should clear 100k credits at a minimum. Now, if those Lingsdonlubbers don't try to play stupid we can all make a profit."
Vargas' face quirks into a smile. "I love it when a humanitarian mission turns a profit."
Vasilii watches his sensors, willing the cutter to move off and double-checking that the second cutter is still without power. He sets up a scan of the ship's boat to check for high-energy sources such as weapons packs, waiting for the situation to relax a little bit.
Reaching over, Vasilii makes sure that the computer has the ship’s boat as the selected target, then waits for the Captain’s orders.
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Muting the external comms, Argent switches to internals. "Saro, load that data packet onto a cube and ready four courses for transfer. Swann, they have 15 seconds to move that cutter. Blast it if it doesn’t break off entirely."
-----
Saro, who is furiously trying to put together some notes to further help the Lingsdonlanders, sighs deeply and speaks into the internal comm: "Captain. I’ll do as you ask."
He tries to finish as much as possible from the pharmacological protocol and then transfer it into a data cube, along with the data from the Imperial Drug Registry. Then he makes his way to the cargo deck to retrieve four adult doses of the three antivirals.
Saro checks his sources for hints on what would be needed to produce the antivirals. The information is a little sketchy on Wisulix and Karilic, but he suspects that they could be produced with TL-10 facilities. Information on the Derosium is easier to find, and he finds information that one of the compounds used in the production requires a TL-11 molecular site transducer.
After checking the sources, Saro loads the information onto his data cube, selects the four courses of antivirals, and places everything in a small spare foam box marked "Petri Mice. This Side Up. Do Not Microwave."
-----
Shortly after Argent makes his snap decision and communicates it to the slow boat, the slow boat replies, "Thank you for being reasonable and understanding, merchant ship. We are telling the cutter Leader’s Provider to decelerate now. Please turn off your active sensors and we will do the same. We will close with you and dock on your port side. When we dock, my assistant and I will enter your airlock with four briefcases containing 5 million lingdonsallers each. Any attempt to rob us will be met with deadly force."
Almost immediately after the transmission from the slow boat, the lead cutter flips on its tail and starts decelerating rapidly. The lead cutter also comms the Bray Keaven. "Merchant ship. Please don’t shoot. We're decelerating as quickly as we can. The fuel feed to our drives is erratic so we can’t decelerate as quickly as we could previously."
-----
Swann tracks the cutter as it begins to decelerate and notes that the cutter is still on a rough intercept course (though decelerating now). Assuming the cutter continues to decelerate, its closest approach will bring it to within 1000 km of the Keaven.
-----
Vasilii switches his sensors to the formerly trailing cutter and determines that the cutter is still on a ballistic course out of Alief orbit. The engines still appear to be non-functional.
-----
On station in the corridor near the port airlock, Darishun watches Saro hustling into the cargo bay to pick up the antivirals and coming back to the airlock. He cocks his head to the side to regard Saro and his little white foam box.
"Doctor? Are we sure that delaying our arrival in Bromley in order to reward erratic and mad human behavior is wise? I do not trust these crazy humans, and it seems unwise to reward antisocial behavior. Perhaps it would be wise for us to be ready in case they choose to exhibit additional non-cooperative behavior."
Through the visor of the vacc suit the conflicted expression in Dr. Talbek’s face is evident. "These ships that traverse space are like little islands held together almost by faith. Argent has proven to be a fair and reasonable man, so far. While I am not sure that this is ethical, I am going to follow orders since I believe dissention could do more harm. Once we are planetside I plan on voicing my thoughts to Argent."
Darishun sadly shakes his massive head and continues. "I simply do not understand why humans so often resort to violence to take what they want. A failing of your species, I am afraid."
"I know, Darishun, I know. It’s crazy. You have no idea how much pain and damage I’ve seen. How many wounds, radiation, biological weapons — it’s endless. I do what I can, but it’s tiring."
Saro then offers the Petri Mice box to Darishun. "Speaking of which, I think you are right about being prepared. Maybe I should get my gun. I don’t plan on using it, but maybe if they see it they would be less likely to attempt something funny. Something just feels very wrong here."
-----
Vasilii watches the sensor readings on the other ships, looking for any sign that they are not complying with the agreement.
"Captain, the one cutter is still headed outsystem. It looks like its maneuver drive is totally shot. The other cutter is decelerating, but hasn’t altered course.
"I haven’t run a detailed scan on the slow boat, so I can’t apprise you of any weaponry they may be carrying. Might I suggest that we proceed with caution? These people obviously believe in trading over a gun.
"Perhaps we can have them drop the currency out an airlock and move off. When we’re satisfied that it is good, we can do the same with the antivirals and information. That way we don’t have to worry about them attempting to 'trade up' in ships."
Over the comm but in a very low voice Vargas is heard to say, "Wouldn't they be disappointed once they found out what the Bray Kreaven is actually like?"
Vasilii checks to make sure that his scan for the slow boat is still set up, then waits for the Captain’s order to cease active targeting.
"Damn, I just don’t like this," Argent muses. "Vasilii, I’m inclined to take out the cutter’s hardpoint. What do you think?"
Vasilii thinks for a second. "Captain, that shot would be difficult, but I’m sure Mr. Hellinic would be better able to judge whether that is possible. I seriously doubt whether the computer–controlled port turret could accomplish that task. The cutter is currently decelerating with its stern pointed toward us.
"I doubt whether we could continue firing and continue trade negotiations, however."
"That’s the entire point, Vasilii," Argent counters. "I don’t think these jerks are on the up–and–up. That cutter can flip on its axis on a moment’s notice and come in while we’re docked with the slow boat. And something tells me the slow boat’s captain would rather finish negotiations with the point of his gun to my head.
"So, the question is: do we trust these guys to behave, and let the boat dock?"
Saro returns to where Darishun stands. "Thanks for holding those. I don’t know what’s going to happen. It sounds like the Captain is having second thoughts."
He then fidgets with his snub pistol. "Where do you think it looks most intimidating, but without it being inciting? I’m thinking in my hand, versus in a very visible holster right here across my chest. Do I look bad now?" He adjusts the position of the pistol. "Or do I look badder now, Mr. Darishun?"
Darishun chuckles to himself and softly responds, "Doctor. I am afraid that I do not find you intimidating in the slightest, but perhaps that isn’t saying much since I also didn’t find the Marines intimidating. Perhaps you should consult Ian who is better versed in the madness of humans."
After the large sophont responds to his poor attempt at humor Saro goes to the intercom. "Captain, at this point there probably aren’t any wrong decisions. I doubt they would fire at us with the slow boat docked. I would just recommend that, if they don’t mind, Mr. Hellinic and Mr. McConnell keep us company here in the airlock, preferably with large visible firearms, just in case. I don’t trust the Lingdonslanders, either, and I may not agree with what we are doing, but we made a deal.
"On the other hand, if you have anything concrete that says we are in danger, I think that is a good reason to call off the agreement. Have they done anything, after the agreement, that deserves that we break it?"
-----
"Oh ho!" Ian thinks. "Looks like I might see some action after all."
Reaching out and tapping the intercom, Ian speaks quickly: "Just a suggestion guys, but if the packages we’re exchanging are small, I can do it by space walk — no need to make possible boarding actions easy for them. One of us, one of them, meeting between the ships. Should a squad appear on their hull or in their airlock, we just drive away and reel our fish back in."
-----
Vasilii listens to Ian and then turns to the Captain. "Sir, I agree with Mr. McConnell in principle, although that will put a member of our crew at risk."
Vasilii then studies the sensor panel for a moment, drumming his fingernails lightly on the console.
"Captain, if you have reservations concerning the last cutter, perhaps Mr. Vargas can maneuver the ship so that the slow boat is between us and the cutter before we make the transfer. Psychologically, that should make it more difficult for them to shoot at us. Since the boat is smaller than us by a good margin, I should be able to maintain sensors on the cutter to see if they try anything.
"If you don't like the risk still sir, might I suggest requesting the slow boat to match our flight path until the cutter has reversed momentum and is accelerating away? This would make it more unlikely that they would be able to try something. That would only be a delay of a short time in making the transfer."
Vasilii continues to study the sensors. He notices that the one cutter is not flying as blindly as first thought. "Captain," he says quietly, "I don't think that the last remaining cutter is as damaged as they want us to think. Either that or they are getting sensor information from somewhere."
Vasilii pauses to clear his throat. "Right now the slow boat should be in position to dock with us about the time the cutter will achieve negative-V. They could be doing this faster if they really wanted.
"If we want to do this, we are getting short on time. Since the Lingos are acting like they really want these items, perhaps you might prod them a little? Either they have to speed up or we might have to change to a holding orbit in order to accomplish this trade. I’m sure that Mr. Vargas can tell you the specifics on that."
"Captain, I say press them to speed up," Vargas adds. "First, if they're trying something it could throw their timing off. Second, money may be changing hands but we’re, in effect, doing them a favor with this deal. If they want the meds, they can throttle up a little more."
Vargas pauses a moment before inquiring, "Argent, do you want me to preprogram an escape vector?"
Vasilii makes sure that the computer is recording all the transmissions between the Bray Keaven and the other ships, and stands by.
-----
Swann continues to target the cutter, and tries to fight down a growing sense of uneasiness. "We need to be doing something, this is taking too long," he thinks.
After listening to various exchanges and suggestions on the comm, he can wait no longer. He keys the comm. "Captain, we need to put down a stake or get off the claim. If we’re gonna dock with the slow boat, the idea of putting it between the cutter and us is a good one. Ian’s space walk idea also is good, but it leaves us unable to make a quick escape if needed.
"I say let ’em dock on the port side and arrange a nice, large welcoming party for them. Only allow two people to come aboard with the money. If they look suspicious after they enter the airlock, we don’t let ’em in the ship. If they start anything after we open the airlock, we shoot ’em."
-----
"Well it does have the virtue of being a simple, direct plan," chimes in Vargas. "They’re the hardest to foul up. Mostly."
-----
Darishun looks quizzically at the doctor after Swann’s suggestion and then keys his suit comm. "Swann? I am already at the port airlock with the doctor. Do I qualify as a large welcoming party, or should we add Ian and Martha to our group?"
-----
After hearing Swann’s suggestion, Argent nods — he hates situations like this. Tapping the external comms, he announces, "Slow boat captain, if you want this deal, then you need to have your cutter stop hiding its damage level and perform a vectored deceleration at 110, mark 3. If the cutter doesn’t perform this maneuver within one minute, the deal is off.
"You will come along side us at best possible speed on course 301, mark 5, between us and the cutter. You come in on any other vector or any slower than I’m satisfied with, the deal is off.
"You will only be allowed two men into the airlock; any more, the deal is off and we can’t guarantee your people’s safety," he continues. "Your men will also be unarmed. If they are armed, they’re dead and the deal is off. You have 30 seconds to respond."
Muting the external comms, Argent leans to Vargas. "Preprogram that escape vector and have Martha standing by to give us everything she can."
Argent returns his gaze to the viewscreen, his mind running through the hundreds of possible outcomes of this scenario. He really hates these situations.
-----
Saro, after hearing Argent being decisive and authoritative with the Lingdonslanders, smiles and gives Darishun the two–thumbs–up sign. "Yup. That’s our Captain. Somehow I now feel everything is going to be fine, Mr. Darishun."
