it on bad luck."
Melissa gave a wan smile. "You're trying to make me feel better. Mom said I should take responsibility for my actions." Melissa looked down at her feet. "And I screwed up. If it weren't for you⦠we'd be dead."
Lando wanted to hug her but held himself back. Hugs were her father's job whether he did it or not. He cleared his throat.
"Tell me something, Melissa. Let's say Cy wasn't here⦠and the ship's drives were out of alignment. I try to fix them and fail. Is that my fault?"
Melissa looked thoughtful. "No, since you aren't an engineer, it's not your fault. You did the best you could."
Lando nodded. "Right. So ask yourself the following questions. Are you an adult? Are you a trained gunner? And did you do the best you could?"
Melissa thought about it for a moment, wiped her face with a sleeve, and smiled. "Thanks, Pik. Daddy says you're one helluva pilot⦠but you're something more too. You're my best friend." And with that Melissa kissed Lando's cheek, laughed, and skipped away.
It took three standard days to transfer the cargo from Junk to the planetoid below. Over and over they loaded cargo aboard the tender, ferried it down to Knob's surface, and dragged it onto the crawlers that carried it away. The miners provided some of the muscle but it was still hard work, and by the time it was over, Lando was ready for two or three days of rest. Unfortunately he didn't get them.
Once the final load of cargo was down the miners threw a party in their underground complex. It was a cheerful affair, complete with games for the children and an open bar for the adults.
Melissa had a wonderful time, whooping and screaming as the children chased each other up and down the duracrete corridors, and whining when it was time to leave.
Cy won twenty credits in a game of Rockets and Stars, Cap drank until he passed out, and Lando hit on a pretty brunette named Cee.
She had quick intelligent eyes, a stiff mohawk, and a very nice figure. As usual Lando tried some of his father's favorite smuggling stories first, got a good reaction, and went for the close. "How 'bout you and I slip away and talk?"
It didn't work. Cee patted his hand as she spoke. "Thanks, Pik, but there's three things I never do: I never play with loaded guns, I never go outside without a suit, and I never go to bed with pilots. Call me conservative⦠but that's how I am."
So as they pulled away from Knob, Lando was more than a little hung over, still horny, and looking forward to some rest. All he had to do was find a gate, pass through it, and punch in Snowball's coordinates. Then, barring rock pirates and other unforeseen problems, they could coast all the way home.
Lando was just setting up a course for Gate Twelve when Cap staggered onto the bridge. His hair was uncombed, his eyes were red, and he moved as if his body were made of glass. Coming up behind Lando he examined the vid screens, checked Junk 'scourse, and offered the pilot a data cube.
"Looks fine⦠but run this course instead. Call me if you see anything unusual." So saying, the older man turned and walked away.
Somewhat surprised, Lando accepted the cube, and began to plug it in. He stopped when he heard Cap's voice. "Lando?"
The pilot turned around. Cap was more than halfway to the starboard lift tube. "Yeah?"
"You'll call me if you see anything strange?"
"Yeah, Cap. I'll call you."
"Good." And with that Cap walked away.
Curious, Lando plugged the cube into the NAVCOMP, pulled it on-line, and read it out. He frowned as the screen filled with orderly rows of numbers. The numbers disappeared as his fingers danced over a keyboard. A pattern appeared. A graphic layout of the belt's known features, the gates, and Cap's course.
It didn't make any sense. Sorenson's course would cause them to crisscross a small section of the belt a dozen times. In doing so they would risk collision with uncharted debris, use a lot of fuel, and waste what could've been
Melissa gave a wan smile. "You're trying to make me feel better. Mom said I should take responsibility for my actions." Melissa looked down at her feet. "And I screwed up. If it weren't for you⦠we'd be dead."
Lando wanted to hug her but held himself back. Hugs were her father's job whether he did it or not. He cleared his throat.
"Tell me something, Melissa. Let's say Cy wasn't here⦠and the ship's drives were out of alignment. I try to fix them and fail. Is that my fault?"
Melissa looked thoughtful. "No, since you aren't an engineer, it's not your fault. You did the best you could."
Lando nodded. "Right. So ask yourself the following questions. Are you an adult? Are you a trained gunner? And did you do the best you could?"
Melissa thought about it for a moment, wiped her face with a sleeve, and smiled. "Thanks, Pik. Daddy says you're one helluva pilot⦠but you're something more too. You're my best friend." And with that Melissa kissed Lando's cheek, laughed, and skipped away.
It took three standard days to transfer the cargo from Junk to the planetoid below. Over and over they loaded cargo aboard the tender, ferried it down to Knob's surface, and dragged it onto the crawlers that carried it away. The miners provided some of the muscle but it was still hard work, and by the time it was over, Lando was ready for two or three days of rest. Unfortunately he didn't get them.
Once the final load of cargo was down the miners threw a party in their underground complex. It was a cheerful affair, complete with games for the children and an open bar for the adults.
Melissa had a wonderful time, whooping and screaming as the children chased each other up and down the duracrete corridors, and whining when it was time to leave.
Cy won twenty credits in a game of Rockets and Stars, Cap drank until he passed out, and Lando hit on a pretty brunette named Cee.
She had quick intelligent eyes, a stiff mohawk, and a very nice figure. As usual Lando tried some of his father's favorite smuggling stories first, got a good reaction, and went for the close. "How 'bout you and I slip away and talk?"
It didn't work. Cee patted his hand as she spoke. "Thanks, Pik, but there's three things I never do: I never play with loaded guns, I never go outside without a suit, and I never go to bed with pilots. Call me conservative⦠but that's how I am."
So as they pulled away from Knob, Lando was more than a little hung over, still horny, and looking forward to some rest. All he had to do was find a gate, pass through it, and punch in Snowball's coordinates. Then, barring rock pirates and other unforeseen problems, they could coast all the way home.
Lando was just setting up a course for Gate Twelve when Cap staggered onto the bridge. His hair was uncombed, his eyes were red, and he moved as if his body were made of glass. Coming up behind Lando he examined the vid screens, checked Junk 'scourse, and offered the pilot a data cube.
"Looks fine⦠but run this course instead. Call me if you see anything unusual." So saying, the older man turned and walked away.
Somewhat surprised, Lando accepted the cube, and began to plug it in. He stopped when he heard Cap's voice. "Lando?"
The pilot turned around. Cap was more than halfway to the starboard lift tube. "Yeah?"
"You'll call me if you see anything strange?"
"Yeah, Cap. I'll call you."
"Good." And with that Cap walked away.
Curious, Lando plugged the cube into the NAVCOMP, pulled it on-line, and read it out. He frowned as the screen filled with orderly rows of numbers. The numbers disappeared as his fingers danced over a keyboard. A pattern appeared. A graphic layout of the belt's known features, the gates, and Cap's course.
It didn't make any sense. Sorenson's course would cause them to crisscross a small section of the belt a dozen times. In doing so they would risk collision with uncharted debris, use a lot of fuel, and waste what could've been
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