marksmanship.”
“ Second,” he replied.
“ The winner didn’t graduate, though.”
“ Winning by default isn’t winning.” He glanced across at Cantrell, “What the hell, it should relieve the tension a bit. This include officers?”
“ It certainly does. I’m looking forward to getting some zero-g practice again. It’s been much too long.”
Kicking away towards the corridor, he said, “I’d better head down to one of the cargo decks, see about outfitting it as a firing range. I wonder if we have any laser targeters in stock.”
“ I doubt it. You’ll need to cobble something together.”
“ I’ll give you a hand,” Cantrell said. “Sensors are supposed to be my specialty, after all.”
With a smile, Caine replied, “I’m sure that Mr. Mulenga will be very pleased to hear that.”
Chapter 11
Marshall lay in the command couch, tugging at his borrowed flight jacket. Despite five days’ work, it still didn’t fit quite right, and at this rate he somehow doubted it ever would. Looking around the bridge, he barely managed to suppress a laugh at the motley appearance of his crew; they looked like a collection of actors waiting to perform ‘Pirates of Cydonia’ rather than spacehands. Orlova, lingering near the rear, was the only one who had managed to pull it off, drawing on her own experience; he was rather afraid to ask what he looked like.
“ Coming up on emergence in ten seconds, Skipper,” Nelyubov said at the helm. “That should put us just fifteen minutes from Sinbad Outpost; the egress point is really well positioned in this system.”
“ I’m surprised it isn’t better used.”
“ Nothing much here,” Orlova said. “Just some pretty decent Euxenite deposits, but if it wasn’t easy to get to, no-one would be here. And ice, of course, so we can top up.”
“ Emergence,” Nelyubov said, and everyone hung on to their couches – and their stomachs. Despite round-the-clock work on the dimensional compensators, it was still like a visit to the galaxy’s most sadistic dentist, and Marshall shook his head in an attempt to clear his vision as they slid back into reality.
Tapping a button, he said, “Wilson, if you don’t fix that you ’re walking home!”
“ I’ll see what I can do, skipper,” his voice replied, tinny over the antiquated microphone. “No guarantees, though, not with garbage this out of date.”
Snapping the channel closed, he turned to Spinelli, “Get me the dockmaster.”
“ Trying, s...skipper. All I’m getting is some loud music.”
“ Music?”
“ Wait, oh, hell. I must have broken into a commercial frequency.” He glanced up at his board, “Lots of small ships in the vicinity. Dozens, mostly singleships, all civilian. Couple of tankers and support craft. I’d say we’re the only hendecaspace-capable ship in the system.”
“ That’s good news, anyway.”
“ Got him!” he said. “Dockmaster coming on now.”
“ Who is he?” Marshall said, quietly, turning to Orlova, who was glancing at a datapad.
“ Zaid Karim,” she whispered.
“ Basil, what are you doing back here already?” a voice boomed from the speaker. “I thought you were going to lay over at Hydra and fix that ship of yours.”
Taking a deep breath, Marshall replied, “This isn’t Basil, I’m afraid. My name is Daniel Trent, and as of a week ago, I’m the owner-operator of this ship.” Most of the crew were going under their own names, the Cabal unlikely to pick up on them, but Marshall’s profile was high enough that Bailey had insisted on providing him with a pseudonym.
The voice was growing soft, suspicious, “Basil sold up? Why?”
“ All I know is that he was selling a ship, and I had the money to buy it.”
“ And how come I’ve never heard of you before?”
Orlova looked at him, and Marshall nodded, “Because I’m new to the area. We got ran out
“ Second,” he replied.
“ The winner didn’t graduate, though.”
“ Winning by default isn’t winning.” He glanced across at Cantrell, “What the hell, it should relieve the tension a bit. This include officers?”
“ It certainly does. I’m looking forward to getting some zero-g practice again. It’s been much too long.”
Kicking away towards the corridor, he said, “I’d better head down to one of the cargo decks, see about outfitting it as a firing range. I wonder if we have any laser targeters in stock.”
“ I doubt it. You’ll need to cobble something together.”
“ I’ll give you a hand,” Cantrell said. “Sensors are supposed to be my specialty, after all.”
With a smile, Caine replied, “I’m sure that Mr. Mulenga will be very pleased to hear that.”
Chapter 11
Marshall lay in the command couch, tugging at his borrowed flight jacket. Despite five days’ work, it still didn’t fit quite right, and at this rate he somehow doubted it ever would. Looking around the bridge, he barely managed to suppress a laugh at the motley appearance of his crew; they looked like a collection of actors waiting to perform ‘Pirates of Cydonia’ rather than spacehands. Orlova, lingering near the rear, was the only one who had managed to pull it off, drawing on her own experience; he was rather afraid to ask what he looked like.
“ Coming up on emergence in ten seconds, Skipper,” Nelyubov said at the helm. “That should put us just fifteen minutes from Sinbad Outpost; the egress point is really well positioned in this system.”
“ I’m surprised it isn’t better used.”
“ Nothing much here,” Orlova said. “Just some pretty decent Euxenite deposits, but if it wasn’t easy to get to, no-one would be here. And ice, of course, so we can top up.”
“ Emergence,” Nelyubov said, and everyone hung on to their couches – and their stomachs. Despite round-the-clock work on the dimensional compensators, it was still like a visit to the galaxy’s most sadistic dentist, and Marshall shook his head in an attempt to clear his vision as they slid back into reality.
Tapping a button, he said, “Wilson, if you don’t fix that you ’re walking home!”
“ I’ll see what I can do, skipper,” his voice replied, tinny over the antiquated microphone. “No guarantees, though, not with garbage this out of date.”
Snapping the channel closed, he turned to Spinelli, “Get me the dockmaster.”
“ Trying, s...skipper. All I’m getting is some loud music.”
“ Music?”
“ Wait, oh, hell. I must have broken into a commercial frequency.” He glanced up at his board, “Lots of small ships in the vicinity. Dozens, mostly singleships, all civilian. Couple of tankers and support craft. I’d say we’re the only hendecaspace-capable ship in the system.”
“ That’s good news, anyway.”
“ Got him!” he said. “Dockmaster coming on now.”
“ Who is he?” Marshall said, quietly, turning to Orlova, who was glancing at a datapad.
“ Zaid Karim,” she whispered.
“ Basil, what are you doing back here already?” a voice boomed from the speaker. “I thought you were going to lay over at Hydra and fix that ship of yours.”
Taking a deep breath, Marshall replied, “This isn’t Basil, I’m afraid. My name is Daniel Trent, and as of a week ago, I’m the owner-operator of this ship.” Most of the crew were going under their own names, the Cabal unlikely to pick up on them, but Marshall’s profile was high enough that Bailey had insisted on providing him with a pseudonym.
The voice was growing soft, suspicious, “Basil sold up? Why?”
“ All I know is that he was selling a ship, and I had the money to buy it.”
“ And how come I’ve never heard of you before?”
Orlova looked at him, and Marshall nodded, “Because I’m new to the area. We got ran out
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