nodded to his captain.
“Aye, Sir, wilco,” he said, and his hand slid up to cup his throat mic as he spoke to the Trannis contact down on the planet and then simply said, “Confirmed, Sir,” as he received the verification the Marwick was now expected.
“Right, XO, put together the normal away team for convict pickup, and let’s meet down on the boarding ramp at say 1600 hours,” he said and rose to leave the bridge.
As he left, the XO noted the time and made the necessary notices. Thinking for a moment, he also used his PDA to message Lieutenant Sander, the Marwick Adept officer on the off chance that he might be useful to the away team.
On Deck Twenty-nine in the captain’s quarters, Tanner sat on his bunk and stared out the huge viewport that lay to port and watched the lights that were trails across the window. Moments later, the trails stuttered and then faded as the stars near Hope suddenly came into focus as the Marwick dropped out of FTL, and he could see the huge yellow star just ahead. As the Marwick spun under thrusters to align the ship with the planet ahead, he rose to grab the black bottle of Scotch on his dresser. Slipping the coffee cup lid to one side, he poured in a healthy shot and then took a swig from the bottle too. More than enough time to worry about shaking the booze on Halberd had been put onto his plate by the admiral just a few weeks ago. ‘Til then ... no need, he thought and swigged once more.
After handling much of the bottle, he slightly swayed as he rose from the bed once more, noted the time, and slowly made his way down to Deck One and the landing ramps. No one can tell, he thought, . He took his spot at the lead end of the away team.
Bram’s here too, he realized and thought he spent far too little time with his Adept officer and made a note of trying to rectify that over the next year. Sounds of the thrusters and landing rockets sounded loudly in their ears as the Marwick came down vertically on her tail, blasting all around the ship’s landing spot.
Shortly thereafter, the away team went down the ramp and off the ship to be met by the local station commander and his team.
“Captain Scott, I believe,” the station commander said and came to attention as he saluted the Marwick away team.
“Not necessary, Commander, but yes, that’s me,” Tanner said as he snapped the same salute back to the station chief. No need to even be saluted, Tanner knew, but a military nicety for sure.
“Convict pickups, Commander, all ready to go, are they?” Tanner said, and later he remembered it was at this point that the pickup went south.
“Ah, well, Captain, that’s the problem—one I’m sure no one envisioned,” he said, and Tanner thought there was a hint of apology in his voice. A large hint.
A slight burp suddenly escaped Tanner’s lips, and he quickly cupped his hand around his lips.
“My apologies, Commander, as you were saying?” he said and stifled another burp that smelled as “Scotch-y” as the last one.
“Captain, it appears that while we do have the eight convicts ready for transport as per the manifest, one of them is—well, not here, Captain. Storms off the island chain in the southern hemisphere about 6,700 miles from here have prevented them from delivering same. So ... we have a problem. Not you, I realize, Captain, as you can simply take the seven we have on hand and go—but I do need to ask you if you’d consider helping us out by helping us pick up that last convict. I will, of course, be ‘singing your praises’ to the admiral if you can help, Captain, but I don’t know if that matters much,” he said, and again for no reason, he saluted.
Tanner saluted back and yet stayed silent. A few days here would surely put off the time on Halberd, and by agreeing to help, he’d help Hope’s government and at the same time have that couple of days of extra time to do what he liked best. Get a glow on and captain a starship. What could be better,
“Aye, Sir, wilco,” he said, and his hand slid up to cup his throat mic as he spoke to the Trannis contact down on the planet and then simply said, “Confirmed, Sir,” as he received the verification the Marwick was now expected.
“Right, XO, put together the normal away team for convict pickup, and let’s meet down on the boarding ramp at say 1600 hours,” he said and rose to leave the bridge.
As he left, the XO noted the time and made the necessary notices. Thinking for a moment, he also used his PDA to message Lieutenant Sander, the Marwick Adept officer on the off chance that he might be useful to the away team.
On Deck Twenty-nine in the captain’s quarters, Tanner sat on his bunk and stared out the huge viewport that lay to port and watched the lights that were trails across the window. Moments later, the trails stuttered and then faded as the stars near Hope suddenly came into focus as the Marwick dropped out of FTL, and he could see the huge yellow star just ahead. As the Marwick spun under thrusters to align the ship with the planet ahead, he rose to grab the black bottle of Scotch on his dresser. Slipping the coffee cup lid to one side, he poured in a healthy shot and then took a swig from the bottle too. More than enough time to worry about shaking the booze on Halberd had been put onto his plate by the admiral just a few weeks ago. ‘Til then ... no need, he thought and swigged once more.
After handling much of the bottle, he slightly swayed as he rose from the bed once more, noted the time, and slowly made his way down to Deck One and the landing ramps. No one can tell, he thought, . He took his spot at the lead end of the away team.
Bram’s here too, he realized and thought he spent far too little time with his Adept officer and made a note of trying to rectify that over the next year. Sounds of the thrusters and landing rockets sounded loudly in their ears as the Marwick came down vertically on her tail, blasting all around the ship’s landing spot.
Shortly thereafter, the away team went down the ramp and off the ship to be met by the local station commander and his team.
“Captain Scott, I believe,” the station commander said and came to attention as he saluted the Marwick away team.
“Not necessary, Commander, but yes, that’s me,” Tanner said as he snapped the same salute back to the station chief. No need to even be saluted, Tanner knew, but a military nicety for sure.
“Convict pickups, Commander, all ready to go, are they?” Tanner said, and later he remembered it was at this point that the pickup went south.
“Ah, well, Captain, that’s the problem—one I’m sure no one envisioned,” he said, and Tanner thought there was a hint of apology in his voice. A large hint.
A slight burp suddenly escaped Tanner’s lips, and he quickly cupped his hand around his lips.
“My apologies, Commander, as you were saying?” he said and stifled another burp that smelled as “Scotch-y” as the last one.
“Captain, it appears that while we do have the eight convicts ready for transport as per the manifest, one of them is—well, not here, Captain. Storms off the island chain in the southern hemisphere about 6,700 miles from here have prevented them from delivering same. So ... we have a problem. Not you, I realize, Captain, as you can simply take the seven we have on hand and go—but I do need to ask you if you’d consider helping us out by helping us pick up that last convict. I will, of course, be ‘singing your praises’ to the admiral if you can help, Captain, but I don’t know if that matters much,” he said, and again for no reason, he saluted.
Tanner saluted back and yet stayed silent. A few days here would surely put off the time on Halberd, and by agreeing to help, he’d help Hope’s government and at the same time have that couple of days of extra time to do what he liked best. Get a glow on and captain a starship. What could be better,
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