voice cracked only slightly. “And if you surrender now… you still might avoid the death penalty.”
“The death penalty?” the Halgorian interrupted. “The death penalty was not part of our deal, robot. Neither was firing on the authorities, for that matter.”
Igon swiveled his oblong head around 180 degrees at the Halgorian. “I already said I’d give you an extra one percent to open fire.”
“One percent won’t begin to cover our legal expenses if we’re caught,” the Halgorian said.
“Alright – two percent extra, then,” Igon told them, throwing up his hands. He swiveled his head back around to look at Loy. “You’re dead in space, cop. The next shot will put a hole through your hull wide enough to drive through. But it doesn’t have to come to that if you hand Gladys – and her luggage – over. I’ve got no beef with you – hand her over and you get to go on with your lives.”
Loy squared her shoulders. “DUPES does not negotiate with criminals. –8724, cut audio.”
“Umm,” 8724 said, “Miss Swartzbaum?”
“Cut it,” Cortez said.
“It’s cut,” 8724 said.
Loy sneered at Cortez. “Anytime you want to hand control of 8724 back, feel free.”
“Let’s see how the rest of the day goes,” Cortez said. On the CRT screen, Igon soundlessly waved his arms at them and jumped up and down, trying to get their attention. Cortez ignored him and turned to Loy. “What’s your plan, Junior Officer?”
“Uh, my plan?” Loy asked. Blushing, she glanced back at Hackenthrush. The Lieutenant Detective, a pouch of tequila in each hand, swiveled back and forth idly in his commander’s chair, softly singing an alcohol-slurred version of La Cucaracha to himself. Loy shrugged, and bit her lower lip in thought. After a moment, she said, “Protocol says first we ask nicely, then we ask a little less nicely. –8724, transmit the standard cease-and-desist order to compel their Ship’s Brain to turn off her engines and disengage.”
“Miss Swartzbaum?” 8724 asked.
“All right,” Cortez said with a slight nod as she watched Igon gesture emphatically at the Halgorian.
“Transmitting cease and desist,” 8724 announced.
“Any effect?” Loy asked.
“You tell me,” 8724 said, switching the main CRT over to a feed from one of her external hull cameras. The scavenger ship was slowly backing away, the glow from the converters on her plasma cannon getting brighter as it charged up. “My hunch is they don’t have a Ship’s Brain. And that they’re going to, as the robot threatened, put a hole in me wide enough to drive through. Which I must say, I am not looking forward to.”
“What kind of ship doesn’t have a Brain?” Rikki asked, squeezing in between Loy and Cortez. He gave Cortez a snaggle-toothed smile from behind the pouch of tequila he’d wedged inside his life-hood.
Cortez snorted. “The kind that would fire on a cop. –Ship, what weaponry are you packing?”
Loy answered before 8724 could. “Stock for a Corbel class patrol rocketship is two twin plasma cannon turrets, a compliment of six ship-to-ship mid-yield atomic torpedoes, and a grappling hook for boarding and rescue actions.”
“That’s it?” Cortez asked.
“More or less,” 8724 said.
“What do you mean more or less?” Loy asked. “That’s the standard load out for patrol duty.”
“That’s the standard, yes, but we have not re-stocked since Lieutenant Detective Hackenthrush and Rikki used all of my torpedoes destroying an asteroid whose orbit threatened to intersect a trade lane last week.”
“They used all six taking out a single asteroid?” Loy asked.
“It was my birthday.” Rikki hiccupped. “There may have been drink involved.”
Loy shook her head sadly. “Okay… So that leaves turrets. At least say they’re working.”
“They are,” 8724 said. “Can’t point the one backwards, and the other can only fire at half power, but, other than that…”
“Doesn’t
“The death penalty?” the Halgorian interrupted. “The death penalty was not part of our deal, robot. Neither was firing on the authorities, for that matter.”
Igon swiveled his oblong head around 180 degrees at the Halgorian. “I already said I’d give you an extra one percent to open fire.”
“One percent won’t begin to cover our legal expenses if we’re caught,” the Halgorian said.
“Alright – two percent extra, then,” Igon told them, throwing up his hands. He swiveled his head back around to look at Loy. “You’re dead in space, cop. The next shot will put a hole through your hull wide enough to drive through. But it doesn’t have to come to that if you hand Gladys – and her luggage – over. I’ve got no beef with you – hand her over and you get to go on with your lives.”
Loy squared her shoulders. “DUPES does not negotiate with criminals. –8724, cut audio.”
“Umm,” 8724 said, “Miss Swartzbaum?”
“Cut it,” Cortez said.
“It’s cut,” 8724 said.
Loy sneered at Cortez. “Anytime you want to hand control of 8724 back, feel free.”
“Let’s see how the rest of the day goes,” Cortez said. On the CRT screen, Igon soundlessly waved his arms at them and jumped up and down, trying to get their attention. Cortez ignored him and turned to Loy. “What’s your plan, Junior Officer?”
“Uh, my plan?” Loy asked. Blushing, she glanced back at Hackenthrush. The Lieutenant Detective, a pouch of tequila in each hand, swiveled back and forth idly in his commander’s chair, softly singing an alcohol-slurred version of La Cucaracha to himself. Loy shrugged, and bit her lower lip in thought. After a moment, she said, “Protocol says first we ask nicely, then we ask a little less nicely. –8724, transmit the standard cease-and-desist order to compel their Ship’s Brain to turn off her engines and disengage.”
“Miss Swartzbaum?” 8724 asked.
“All right,” Cortez said with a slight nod as she watched Igon gesture emphatically at the Halgorian.
“Transmitting cease and desist,” 8724 announced.
“Any effect?” Loy asked.
“You tell me,” 8724 said, switching the main CRT over to a feed from one of her external hull cameras. The scavenger ship was slowly backing away, the glow from the converters on her plasma cannon getting brighter as it charged up. “My hunch is they don’t have a Ship’s Brain. And that they’re going to, as the robot threatened, put a hole in me wide enough to drive through. Which I must say, I am not looking forward to.”
“What kind of ship doesn’t have a Brain?” Rikki asked, squeezing in between Loy and Cortez. He gave Cortez a snaggle-toothed smile from behind the pouch of tequila he’d wedged inside his life-hood.
Cortez snorted. “The kind that would fire on a cop. –Ship, what weaponry are you packing?”
Loy answered before 8724 could. “Stock for a Corbel class patrol rocketship is two twin plasma cannon turrets, a compliment of six ship-to-ship mid-yield atomic torpedoes, and a grappling hook for boarding and rescue actions.”
“That’s it?” Cortez asked.
“More or less,” 8724 said.
“What do you mean more or less?” Loy asked. “That’s the standard load out for patrol duty.”
“That’s the standard, yes, but we have not re-stocked since Lieutenant Detective Hackenthrush and Rikki used all of my torpedoes destroying an asteroid whose orbit threatened to intersect a trade lane last week.”
“They used all six taking out a single asteroid?” Loy asked.
“It was my birthday.” Rikki hiccupped. “There may have been drink involved.”
Loy shook her head sadly. “Okay… So that leaves turrets. At least say they’re working.”
“They are,” 8724 said. “Can’t point the one backwards, and the other can only fire at half power, but, other than that…”
“Doesn’t
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