Easy Money, Part 6
Holy shit.
Odrida's heart pounded in her chest. This wasn't the first time she'd been in mortal danger; hell, Mayberry was as close to death as most people ever got. And in her Coast Guard days, as a member of the boarding party onto Olde Earthe Candles, she'd had people try to kill her before.
But this time, she was in charge.
She glanced over at Morg, staring intently at the display inside his own Goggles, fingers moving frantically through the air.
No. The Captain did not look to the goddamn First Mate. It went the other way.
All right.
Sensor data coming back from the pursuing vessel; looked like a Bloch Interstellar Conestoga-class light freighter. Possibly modded -- no, remember who owns that ship -- definitely modded for extra weaponry.
Fast, for a freighter.
But slow compared to Mitch.
... except that Mitch was nursing those bad injectors. Shit! How hard could she push her own ship before wrecking the engines? Hard enough to outrun a Conestoga?
Maybe.
But they didn't know Mitch was compromised.
There had to be a way she could use that.
"Captain! They've activated guidance radar."
"Our railgun on-line?"
"Affirmative."
"They firing?"
"Negative."
"Comm: open a channel to pursuing vessel."
Calm. Calm. Calm. You spotted them sooner than they intended, and as far as they know, you're a gazelle with a machine gun. And you can start screaming for help; you're on the side of the angels here. They do not have all the cards.
A small screen opened low in her field of vision. "I see we have your attention, Captain," said a smirking Tubby.
"Back off," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "Your plan is toast. We spotted you too soon; you're not boarding anybody."
"If we board you," Tubby said, "you'll merely lose your ship, Ms. Chan. If you force us fire a missile salvo at you, you shall lose a great deal more."
"Go for it," Odrida said. "I've got a Hulme Arms Mk. IX Light Railgun covering my ass; best goddamn point-defense weapon on the civilian market." As Morg had said on any number of occasions.
"We have a lot of missiles, Captain."
"Permission to open fire," Morg said.
Odrida gave her head one firm shake, hoping like hell that her mic software had done its job and filtered out her First Mate's voice.
"You'd be a fool to waste those missiles," she said. "I can pull five gees in this thing; plenty of time to turn all of 'em into clay pigeons. And this is an awfully public place for a shootout, don't you think?"
Tubbly chuckled. "Bold words, Captain, but we both know that you can afford the attention even less than I can. I give you my word, Captain, let us board, and we will grant you and your crew your lives and your freedom. Involve the authorities and I assure you, you'll be lucky to get away with just the former."
What the hell?
"Captain," Morg said, "what the fuck is he talking about?"
You looked me square in the face and lied to me.
Odrida muted her connection to the pursuing ship. "I have a very nasty suspicion. Tell Ham to search our passengers' luggage. Now."
She re-activated the connection with the pursuing vessel while Morg paged Ham. "I am prepared to consider your terms," she said. "Neither of us wants this to turn into a running gunfight, Mr ..." Fuck! What was Tubby McAssface's real name?
"Hasegawa," Morg whispered to her from his couch.
"Mr. Hasegawa," she finished.
"Consider quickly," Tubby -- no, no, Emil Hasegawa -- said. "You will find that I am a man of exceptionally finite patience. Particularly when I'm dealing with somebody who's already lied to me once."
She needed to stall, to give Ham some time. "I'm afraid I don't get it," she said, fearing that she understood all too well. "You keep calling me a liar, but I don't know what you're talking about."
"Save your 'ignorant victim' routine for the police," Hasegawa said, beginning a long-winded tirade about the importance of honesty and the notion of honor among thieves.
Thank Christ this guy loves the sound of his own voice.
"Captain," came Ham's voice over her earpiece.
She muted the ship-to-ship connection. "Go ahead."
"We got drugs."
Fuck. "Any chance it's just their personal stash?"
"Only if they plan on giving it to their grandkids."
Fuck!
"Let's see," Ham said, "they brought on a suitcase stuffed full of Easy Living, looks like a few blocks of Slam, and ... hey, they're fans of the classics! We got Smack, we got Crack, we got ... shit, is this mescaline?" A pause. "Yup, sure is. All of this is really top-flight stuff. I'd say they brought on enough dope to triple the value of this ship." Another pause. "Oh, and they brought a big fucking gun, too."
"What kind?" Morg asked.
"Dunno," Ham said. "Do they all look this damn big when you're staring down the barrel?"
Odrida's heart lurched.
"Help is on the way," Morg said, unbuckling himself from the couch.
"Mr. Hasegawa," Odrida said, assuming weapons control as she re-opened the comm channel, "it would seem that your claims are not without merit ..."
