landing on Madison, an Alliance sector capital, claiming to be a Kostroman ship. Well, you and I have done worse than that to the Alliance, haven’t we, spacers?”
The response this time was a bloodthirsty roar from the body of the ship, though the sound had been reduced to tinny echoes by the time it reached Daniel. Nobody inside the BDC actually cheered, though it wouldn’t have been a surprise if Fiducia and Rocker, the missileer’s mate and gunner’s mate respectively, had joined in.
“But there’s something else you ought to know, spacers,” Daniel said, pitching his voice a little lower to suggest that he had reached the serious part of the discussion. “Admiral Cox doesn’t know what we’re about to do. He thinks we’re going straight to Sunbright, everybody in Macotta HQ thinks we’re going to Sunbright.”
“Who bloody cares what the farmers out here think?” somebody shouted. Daniel thought the voice was Woetjans’, but if so she spoke for everybody aboard—Captain Daniel Leary included. Certainly the cheers seemed universal.
In fact the tricky part was going to be keeping up the pretense of being Kostroman while they were on Madison. He’d slipped past that when he told the Sissies it was minor compared to what they’d done in the past.
The deception wasn’t dangerous in the sense that the Alliance authorities would shoot them if the trick was detected, but it would certainly be embarrassing and might very well mean months or years of internment while diplomats discussed the matter in measured tones. Daniel didn’t imagine that the Macotta bureaucracy would strain itself in helping uppity naval personnel who’d come out from Xenos with an attitude.
Very few of the Sissie ’s crew were from Kostroma, perhaps six or eight out of over a hundred. That in itself wouldn’t surprise Alliance port officials. Spacers were a nation unto themselves. That was less true of a warship’s complement than it was for civilian vessels, but even so no more than half the crew of the corvette Princess Cecile had been born on Cinnabar or worlds under the Republic’s hegemony.
“Well, Sissies…” Daniel said. “We’re going to come through this fine, like we have before, if we all do our jobs. This time for you that means mostly watching what you say when we’re on the ground. And for me, that means being Kirby Pensett, who used to be an RCN officer. Can we carry it off?”
There were so many variations in the reply that they merged into a growl, but they all amounted to, “Yes!” generally with a word or words of emphasis.
“Then for the last time until we’ve succeeded, let me say it’s an honor to command you, Sissies. Six out!”
Over the cheers, Vesey’s amplified voice from the bridge said, “ Captain to ship! Prepare for liftoff in thirty, that is three-zero seconds .”
Unexpectedly she added, “ Next stop Madison, spacers .”
Daniel grinned. Vesey tended to seem colorless, and it wasn’t often that she raised a cheer. She got one this time.
CHAPTER 7: Ashetown on Madison
Daniel walked down the Harborfront wearing mottled gray utilities without any markings. A veteran might recognized them as RCN in cut and color, but in dim light they would be indistinguishable from the Fleet’s gray-green or from similar garments worn by spacers all over the human universe. The clothing wasn’t a statement of allegiance, though it did imply his profession.
That would have been a safe bet anyway. Most people at the waterside of a spaceport were spacers or had been spacers.
“Ah, young master,” Hogg said in a falsely righteous tone as he viewed the storefronts. “What sinks of iniquity! How I long for the good clean air behind the pig styes back at Bantry.”
“You’re being unjust to the establishments, Hogg,” Daniel said, pursing his lips judiciously. They were looking for the Miltiades Hotel, where the offices of Calpurnius Trading were located.
The Grand Hotel Pleasaunce was
The response this time was a bloodthirsty roar from the body of the ship, though the sound had been reduced to tinny echoes by the time it reached Daniel. Nobody inside the BDC actually cheered, though it wouldn’t have been a surprise if Fiducia and Rocker, the missileer’s mate and gunner’s mate respectively, had joined in.
“But there’s something else you ought to know, spacers,” Daniel said, pitching his voice a little lower to suggest that he had reached the serious part of the discussion. “Admiral Cox doesn’t know what we’re about to do. He thinks we’re going straight to Sunbright, everybody in Macotta HQ thinks we’re going to Sunbright.”
“Who bloody cares what the farmers out here think?” somebody shouted. Daniel thought the voice was Woetjans’, but if so she spoke for everybody aboard—Captain Daniel Leary included. Certainly the cheers seemed universal.
In fact the tricky part was going to be keeping up the pretense of being Kostroman while they were on Madison. He’d slipped past that when he told the Sissies it was minor compared to what they’d done in the past.
The deception wasn’t dangerous in the sense that the Alliance authorities would shoot them if the trick was detected, but it would certainly be embarrassing and might very well mean months or years of internment while diplomats discussed the matter in measured tones. Daniel didn’t imagine that the Macotta bureaucracy would strain itself in helping uppity naval personnel who’d come out from Xenos with an attitude.
Very few of the Sissie ’s crew were from Kostroma, perhaps six or eight out of over a hundred. That in itself wouldn’t surprise Alliance port officials. Spacers were a nation unto themselves. That was less true of a warship’s complement than it was for civilian vessels, but even so no more than half the crew of the corvette Princess Cecile had been born on Cinnabar or worlds under the Republic’s hegemony.
“Well, Sissies…” Daniel said. “We’re going to come through this fine, like we have before, if we all do our jobs. This time for you that means mostly watching what you say when we’re on the ground. And for me, that means being Kirby Pensett, who used to be an RCN officer. Can we carry it off?”
There were so many variations in the reply that they merged into a growl, but they all amounted to, “Yes!” generally with a word or words of emphasis.
“Then for the last time until we’ve succeeded, let me say it’s an honor to command you, Sissies. Six out!”
Over the cheers, Vesey’s amplified voice from the bridge said, “ Captain to ship! Prepare for liftoff in thirty, that is three-zero seconds .”
Unexpectedly she added, “ Next stop Madison, spacers .”
Daniel grinned. Vesey tended to seem colorless, and it wasn’t often that she raised a cheer. She got one this time.
CHAPTER 7: Ashetown on Madison
Daniel walked down the Harborfront wearing mottled gray utilities without any markings. A veteran might recognized them as RCN in cut and color, but in dim light they would be indistinguishable from the Fleet’s gray-green or from similar garments worn by spacers all over the human universe. The clothing wasn’t a statement of allegiance, though it did imply his profession.
That would have been a safe bet anyway. Most people at the waterside of a spaceport were spacers or had been spacers.
“Ah, young master,” Hogg said in a falsely righteous tone as he viewed the storefronts. “What sinks of iniquity! How I long for the good clean air behind the pig styes back at Bantry.”
“You’re being unjust to the establishments, Hogg,” Daniel said, pursing his lips judiciously. They were looking for the Miltiades Hotel, where the offices of Calpurnius Trading were located.
The Grand Hotel Pleasaunce was
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