Hmm, keeping your head down... I'm wondering if my guess (that you never responded to) about you secretly being a hitman for the Canadian government is turning out to be true. Which, of course, means you're not in Moscow at all, that's just there to throw us off the scent! Happy midsummer, by the way :)
We shall return to this: Keeping your head down The customs official was frowning as he and his men (two of whom were women) went through the manifest. Outside there was the occasional thump as a rock the size of a grain of salt struck the ship at appreciable speed, and more often there were little 'pew-pew' noises from Letter-designate as it handled the lasers, burning up larger pieces of debris before they could collide. CPU kept leaning over the customs official's shoulder to 'helpfully' point out where they could find things in the hold, and to complain about the man's penmanship. Solo sat in the navigation couch and vaped. "These seems to be in order," said the customs official. "You sound grumpy," said Solo. "Like you just had to haggle with Jab'bar over the price of some Malthusian slaves." The customs official looked hurt. "He's calling himself Jal'frezi these days," he said. "There was a bit of an issue when it turned out some of the slaves he'd been selling were royalty, so he declared bankruptcy, changed his name, lost a bit of weight, and opened up shop again. That's not the point though. Your manifest is perfect, and that's just impossible. You've got over eight thousand items in the hold and you have them all correctly listed and organised. No-one's that good!" "CPU does it," said Solo. "Jab'bar's not the only one keeping his head down; I've been inspected by you lot sixty-five times in the last two years; that's practically once every two weeks. Last time I did the Kepler run you had a ship keeping pace with me for eighteen parsecs demanding I let you board! I've got no idea what your problem is, but I don't want to be part of it." "...are you sure you didn't sell us some laminar shielding and laminate batteries? Because Lord Vader was particularly upset with the quality of those." Solo sighed. "Itinerant rock farmer, remember?" "You have eight-five sacks of rare spices in the hold, which doesn't seem like the kind of thing a rock farmer would need." "I like curry." They stared at each other for a few moments. "Well, how long before we get out of the cloud bridge?" Solo tapped Letter-designate on it's tabletop head. "Pew-pew! Beep-beep pew-pew-pew. Pew! Pew! Pew-pew-pew-beep-burrrrrrrp." "Letter-designate says that we are 63.82% of the way through, and that with current debris density and velocity he anticipates another two hours of fun." said CPU primly. "His idea of fun is not necessarily the same as ours." "Yes," said the customs official. "Yours involves a necrophile, after all. Well, Mr Solo, since we're here for two more hours at least, and you like curry, why don't you rustle one up and treat us all?" "Dinner!" said CPU, clapping its hands together. "I'll let the necrophile out!"
2 comments:
Hmm, keeping your head down... I'm wondering if my guess (that you never responded to) about you secretly being a hitman for the Canadian government is turning out to be true. Which, of course, means you're not in Moscow at all, that's just there to throw us off the scent!
Happy midsummer, by the way :)
We shall return to this:
Keeping your head down
The customs official was frowning as he and his men (two of whom were women) went through the manifest. Outside there was the occasional thump as a rock the size of a grain of salt struck the ship at appreciable speed, and more often there were little 'pew-pew' noises from Letter-designate as it handled the lasers, burning up larger pieces of debris before they could collide. CPU kept leaning over the customs official's shoulder to 'helpfully' point out where they could find things in the hold, and to complain about the man's penmanship. Solo sat in the navigation couch and vaped.
"These seems to be in order," said the customs official.
"You sound grumpy," said Solo. "Like you just had to haggle with Jab'bar over the price of some Malthusian slaves."
The customs official looked hurt. "He's calling himself Jal'frezi these days," he said. "There was a bit of an issue when it turned out some of the slaves he'd been selling were royalty, so he declared bankruptcy, changed his name, lost a bit of weight, and opened up shop again. That's not the point though. Your manifest is perfect, and that's just impossible. You've got over eight thousand items in the hold and you have them all correctly listed and organised. No-one's that good!"
"CPU does it," said Solo. "Jab'bar's not the only one keeping his head down; I've been inspected by you lot sixty-five times in the last two years; that's practically once every two weeks. Last time I did the Kepler run you had a ship keeping pace with me for eighteen parsecs demanding I let you board! I've got no idea what your problem is, but I don't want to be part of it."
"...are you sure you didn't sell us some laminar shielding and laminate batteries? Because Lord Vader was particularly upset with the quality of those."
Solo sighed. "Itinerant rock farmer, remember?"
"You have eight-five sacks of rare spices in the hold, which doesn't seem like the kind of thing a rock farmer would need."
"I like curry."
They stared at each other for a few moments.
"Well, how long before we get out of the cloud bridge?"
Solo tapped Letter-designate on it's tabletop head.
"Pew-pew! Beep-beep pew-pew-pew. Pew! Pew! Pew-pew-pew-beep-burrrrrrrp."
"Letter-designate says that we are 63.82% of the way through, and that with current debris density and velocity he anticipates another two hours of fun." said CPU primly. "His idea of fun is not necessarily the same as ours."
"Yes," said the customs official. "Yours involves a necrophile, after all. Well, Mr Solo, since we're here for two more hours at least, and you like curry, why don't you rustle one up and treat us all?"
"Dinner!" said CPU, clapping its hands together. "I'll let the necrophile out!"
Greg - got to keep you guessing, keep you on your toes :P
Fun, fun, fun stuff. Also very much enjoying this tale. You're spoiling me with this and Derby!
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