got lightweight non-breakables. You could have four gross of bedpans.”
“Does Core Central manufacture bedpans?” Sully sounded disappointed.
“Core Central contracts with a lot of small factories for just about everything. If you’re looking for supplies that would build a gen-lab, though, I’d be watching for shipments from Core Em-Ex. That’s their high-ticket, research division.”
Drogue turned his broad face up to mine. “You have a remarkable memory, Captain Bergren.”
I shook my head. “Repetitive. I’ve seen this stuff almost every day of my adult life.” And much of my childhood, as long as my mother had been alive.
Sully folded his arms across his chest. “Now you understand why we need you.”
A good interfering bitch with a working knowledge of Marker and Imperial shipping? I was far from unique. Every other patrol captain in the Imperial Fleet had my knowledge of cargo codes. And last I knew, over five hundred and fifty people worked at Marker. Many of them
Megan Sybil Baker - 30
possibly had knowledge of Marker’s routines and those same codes I did. But I was the only one sitting on Moabar.
Some of my unease about my pact with the ghost from Hell subsided. “All right. Count me in,” I told Sully. “But let’s make sure of your information, first.” Five hundred fifty people, including my brother, worked in Marker. I wasn’t going to convict them on partial evidence, or misinterpreted data. I knew only too well what that felt like.
* * *
Newlin came back on the intraship when we were cleared for docking. “Strap down and secure. I mean it, this time.” Evidently he’d heard that ominous thump two and a half hours before. We were a little behind schedule. Newlin said only that the station was having a problem with their escort tugs.
Ten minutes later a long shimmy rattled through the ship as she was gated to one of the station’s extended docking ramps. Two hard jolts. Clamps secure. We were probably lower level. Luggers usually didn’t rate the better berths. A tri-hauler like Diligent should be somewhat higher, closer to the M.O.C. command center, stationmaster’s office, rec facilities.
I made a mental appraisal of how much longer I’d be in the M.O.C.’s company. Another five, ten minutes until we were cleared to disembark. I didn’t know if we’d have to pass through an ID scan again. We’d come in as approved commercial transit, not prisoners. In theory, it was always possible the lugger could have been intercepted between Moabar and the Station, taken cargo or passengers off or on. If I ran the station, there’d be another ID check. But then, I tried to run my life, and my ship, the way my mother had taught me.
Details. Ask questions. Get facts. Something the Imperial Fleet and the M.O.C. had been known to ignore.
If they did recheck ID, that would delay us another five. Then we had to find the lifts, find the Diligent . Fifteen minutes. Sully had said they’d file for departure as soon as we were on board.
Half-hour. Forty-five if they were having a problem with the tugs. I’d be generous. An hour. An hour to wait and then I’d be heading in-system. Free.
It’s still too easy .
Shut up.
Sully unsnapped his harness as I did. “You stay with Drogue.” He stepped away from me, headed for Ren. A light touch of his hand on the Stolorth’s elbow preceded his quip. “Show time.”
Hazy silver eyes turned toward Sully. “I’m ready.”
Wilard arrived to escort us off ship. All conversation ceased as we filed after him toward the airlock. Drogue touched the wide belt at his waist, signaling I should have my ID ready.
Okay, five minutes, Chaz. Five minutes. This is the toughest part. You can do this.
Drogue didn’t know the Taka waiting at the bottom of the ramp. We went through the ritual greetings but without the easy familiarity of the spaceport.
“Blessings of the hour to you, brother.”
“Blessings of the hour. Guardian?” The Taka spent
“Does Core Central manufacture bedpans?” Sully sounded disappointed.
“Core Central contracts with a lot of small factories for just about everything. If you’re looking for supplies that would build a gen-lab, though, I’d be watching for shipments from Core Em-Ex. That’s their high-ticket, research division.”
Drogue turned his broad face up to mine. “You have a remarkable memory, Captain Bergren.”
I shook my head. “Repetitive. I’ve seen this stuff almost every day of my adult life.” And much of my childhood, as long as my mother had been alive.
Sully folded his arms across his chest. “Now you understand why we need you.”
A good interfering bitch with a working knowledge of Marker and Imperial shipping? I was far from unique. Every other patrol captain in the Imperial Fleet had my knowledge of cargo codes. And last I knew, over five hundred and fifty people worked at Marker. Many of them
Megan Sybil Baker - 30
possibly had knowledge of Marker’s routines and those same codes I did. But I was the only one sitting on Moabar.
Some of my unease about my pact with the ghost from Hell subsided. “All right. Count me in,” I told Sully. “But let’s make sure of your information, first.” Five hundred fifty people, including my brother, worked in Marker. I wasn’t going to convict them on partial evidence, or misinterpreted data. I knew only too well what that felt like.
* * *
Newlin came back on the intraship when we were cleared for docking. “Strap down and secure. I mean it, this time.” Evidently he’d heard that ominous thump two and a half hours before. We were a little behind schedule. Newlin said only that the station was having a problem with their escort tugs.
Ten minutes later a long shimmy rattled through the ship as she was gated to one of the station’s extended docking ramps. Two hard jolts. Clamps secure. We were probably lower level. Luggers usually didn’t rate the better berths. A tri-hauler like Diligent should be somewhat higher, closer to the M.O.C. command center, stationmaster’s office, rec facilities.
I made a mental appraisal of how much longer I’d be in the M.O.C.’s company. Another five, ten minutes until we were cleared to disembark. I didn’t know if we’d have to pass through an ID scan again. We’d come in as approved commercial transit, not prisoners. In theory, it was always possible the lugger could have been intercepted between Moabar and the Station, taken cargo or passengers off or on. If I ran the station, there’d be another ID check. But then, I tried to run my life, and my ship, the way my mother had taught me.
Details. Ask questions. Get facts. Something the Imperial Fleet and the M.O.C. had been known to ignore.
If they did recheck ID, that would delay us another five. Then we had to find the lifts, find the Diligent . Fifteen minutes. Sully had said they’d file for departure as soon as we were on board.
Half-hour. Forty-five if they were having a problem with the tugs. I’d be generous. An hour. An hour to wait and then I’d be heading in-system. Free.
It’s still too easy .
Shut up.
Sully unsnapped his harness as I did. “You stay with Drogue.” He stepped away from me, headed for Ren. A light touch of his hand on the Stolorth’s elbow preceded his quip. “Show time.”
Hazy silver eyes turned toward Sully. “I’m ready.”
Wilard arrived to escort us off ship. All conversation ceased as we filed after him toward the airlock. Drogue touched the wide belt at his waist, signaling I should have my ID ready.
Okay, five minutes, Chaz. Five minutes. This is the toughest part. You can do this.
Drogue didn’t know the Taka waiting at the bottom of the ramp. We went through the ritual greetings but without the easy familiarity of the spaceport.
“Blessings of the hour to you, brother.”
“Blessings of the hour. Guardian?” The Taka spent
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