Keel Hauled

By

D. D. Tannenbaum

Chapter I - I’ve got them old “But you promised!” blues…

             “The ship has finished establishing geosynchronous orbit thirty-three thousand kilometers above Briar Patch Colony spaceport, Captain Keel.” The ships’ AI announced this in its usual clear, deep tones.

In the ensuing silence Jeremiah Keel, Captain-Owner of the freighter Rusted Nuts, rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his unruly brown hair. His nose started to itch but he couldn’t get the sneeze to come, and his back was getting sore from the extended time he had spent in the pilot’s seat. It had been a long trip and he was glad to get here. He always appreciated the minute or two between the cessation of engines and thrusters and when people started moving around the ship. He glanced over at his First Officer and co-pilot, Mark Sandor. There was a sheen of sweat on Mark’s dark face; it made his face glisten like a polished ebony sculpture. “What’s up? You seem more nervous than usual. It was a long run, but nothing went wrong.”

Sandor pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped his face and neck down. “I’m just worried about this delivery. A lot of the other independent freighter companies have been cut out by B’Hirute trading houses. According to Jon, we’ve about sunk every credit we have into this cargo. What if that happens to us now?”

“Not much we can do about that, is there? We’re here and we need to make the best deal we can. Besides, this was a direct order through Markham ’s Trading House not a general cargo post on the trading boards.” Keel unhooked himself from the seat safety harness. He stood up and stretched his six foot, stocky frame and walked to the back of the Pilot’s Bridge. At the bulkhead door, he punched the button for the ship-wide communications system. “Will the Purser please report to the Engineering Bridge .” He clicked off the comm, and hit the button to open the bulkhead door. He stepped inside the Engineering Bridge , which was more than twice the size of the Pilot’s Bridge. Where the Pilot’s Bridge was a cockpit six meters deep and four meters wide with wrap-around armored glass windshields and four seats surrounded by instrumentation and controls, the Engineering Bridge was a rectangular room six meters wide by ten meters long. The bulkheads were covered in screens, controls and instrumentation and there was a center control console two meters by five meters that doubled as a conference table. There were eight crash couches placed around the room that could swivel between the bulkhead controls and the center console. An odor of sweat and hot insulation pervaded both rooms, proof of the heavy usage of both ship and crew.

Keel settled himself into the crash couch at the head of the table closest to the bulkhead door leading back to the Pilot’s Bridge, closed his eyes and tried to relax. Sandor followed about thirty seconds later, and took the seat at the other end of the console.

After another minute, the bulkhead door in the back of the room that led to the rest of the ship opened up and admitted the Purser, Jon Blair. He was a tall, slim forty year old, with blond hair. He hailed from Epsom, a town outside of Greater London. His most notable features were a receding hairline, and long slim fingers that would do a concert pianist justice. “Are we ready to contact the colony? I have all of the manifests ready.”

Keel reached over the console top and hit the button that connected the ship to the space port below them.

“Briar Patch control tower, Controller Two speaking. Please identify yourself and state your business.”

“This is Jeremiah Keel, Captain-Owner of the freighter Rusted Nuts. We have a cargo delivery to make. Can you contact the appropriate officials for me?”

“Will do Rusted Nuts, hold please.” The speaker went silent, except for a barely audible hum. After a couple of minutes the speaker clicked on again. “Keel, you rotten bastard, is that you?”

This was a different voice; one that he hadn’t heard in years. “Mac? What the hell are you doing down there?”

“I’m Controller One for Briar Patch. Are you still flying that bucket of bolts? They’ve been calling you a charity hauler; you’re so desperate you’ll haul anything. That’s quite a come-down for a former fighter pilot.”

Keel felt his temper rising. “Why the hell aren’t you in jail? They court-martialed you.”

“They almost did. And it was because of your testimony! You told them I was selling fuel and supplies and on the black market. Hell, everybody was doing it. Why did you pick on just me?”

“Because you were sloppy; I wasn’t singling you out. You were so obvious, it was a joke. We drew straws to see who would turn you in; I lost. How did you avoid prosecution?”

“I turned in the characters that were buying from me; got myself a nice pardon. But I’ve been thinking about you Keel, hoping to meet up with you some day and settle the score.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. We’ll be in and out of here in a day or two.” He heard laughter from the speakers.

“Maybe you will and maybe you won’t. I’ll guarantee you’ll have an interesting time here, that’s for sure! I have the Colony Administrator ready for you. He’s on a full video and audio feed on your secondary channel.”

With that, one of the main view screens on the port side of the bridge lit up with the face of a distinguished-looking gentleman with a shock of white hair and a deep tan. “Good day, Captain Keel. My name is Carl Terennio. I am the Colony Administrator. I believe you have some cargo to deliver?”

“Yes. And I’d like to get this over with and move on to our next job.”

“I’m afraid there’s been a change in plans, Captain. We no longer need your cargo.”

Keel felt his face get hot as he stood up. “What do you mean you don’t need my cargo? You ordered the damn stuff!” He banged his fist on the console in front of him for emphasis. Mark and Jon jumped.

            “I’m afraid a B’Hirute freighter docked three days ago and just happened to have the same supplies we needed at a much better price. It’s not something we could just turn down. We’re not self-sufficient enough and we need to conserve whatever capital we can for emergencies.”

Keel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he exhaled and opened his eyes he was a bit calmer. “The damn B’Hirute do this all the time. They find out when and where a cargo is needed and cut in with cheaper prices and faster delivery. How am I expected to make a living when we can’t get a fair shake? I have a cargo hold full of equipment and medical supplies for you, and if you don’t buy it my costs on this run may wipe me out! What are you going to do about it?” Keel glared at the man in the screen.

Terennio said, “We will certainly take the medical supplies. Lord knows we need them in this crazy place. Do you know anything about our little planet?”

“Something about big thorn bushes, that’s all I know about.”

“Those damn thorn bushes can sprout anywhere in a matter of minutes. The root system is all through the only human-habitable continent, and we always have injuries. At least we’re starting to get some medicinals out of the thorns. When we process them, we are able to make a fairly potent analgesic with very few side effects. As for the farming and construction equipment, we may be able to take it off your hands if you will accept trade goods in return and help someone get a lift off Briar Patch.”

“What kind of trade goods are you talking about?” Keel demanded, “I don’t like to be skanked like this. Transmit the list of trade goods and I’ll look it over. In the meantime, I’m going to offload the medical supplies. I expect full payment for that portion upon delivery. As for the passenger, we’ll discuss it when I see you in person.”

“Very well,” the Minister said, “I will have the list transmitted within the hour. You may deliver the medical supplies to the star port here in the capitol. I will have payment transferred into your account as soon as the shipment is verified. And please, if you and your crew will accept my hospitality, I would like you to come to my office this evening. We will have a reception to honor your good nature about this little misunderstanding. And we can talk about the passenger that needs transportation.”

“If that’s the best we’re gonna do, then I guess that’s that, Minister. I’ll bring some of my crew down tonight. When and where? And believe me; my mood will depend upon what trade goods you have to offer!”

“Thank you! Please be at my offices at the port in 6 standard hours. I look forward to meeting you and your crew; Terennio out.”

Between finding that crook Mac here and the problem with the cargo, Keel felt nauseous.

“Damn!” said Mark, “I told you this could happen!”

“We’re screwed, you know that, right?” said Jon, “Really, really screwed. Now we won’t even make expenses, let alone a profit. What the hell are we going to do?”  His voice was loaded with frustration.

He told his Purser, “Well, not much we can do right now. Let’s look over the list of trade goods and then we go down and drink as much of his alcohol as we can get away with. Maybe getting a hangover will soften my disposition. When the list comes in, get Maggie and meet me in the galley in an hour. Mark, call Tony and Tuk’ Zari and tell them the same thing. We need to figure out how to handle this situation and I don’t want to do that on an empty stomach.” Keel walked off the bridge and headed down-ship to the galley.

Sandor asked, “Jon how bad is it really? We’ve been in rough shape financially for a long time, but we’ve always managed to scrape by.”

“Well,” the Purser said, “unless we at least break even on this deal the only thing we’ll have left is the emergency fuel and repair reserves. That would let us make maybe two more runs, but with nothing to purchase a cargo we would have to do consignment shipping and you know what that means.”

He grimaced, “Yeah, stuff nobody wants to carry like low-grade ore shipments if we’re lucky and biohazard or chemical and radioactive waste if we’re not. Ugh! Hopefully, we will be able to work something out with the Minister. Well, let’s get moving.” He hit the intra-ship comm line for Medbay; “Tony, I need you to meet the Captain and me in the galley in about 50 minutes. We have to figure out what we’re going to do with the little kink we’ve run into with our cargo.”

“What kink?” said the ships’ Chief Medical Officer, Tony Gavalio, “What the hell happened?”

“You’ll find out when we meet. I don’t want to go into it more than once. Sandor out.” Switching to the Cargo Masters office, he called, “Yo, Tuk! Who’s there?”

A gruff voice answered, “Tuk’ Mglin speaking, Zari and Hneer are inspecting the cargo, prepping for the drop. What do you want? I was sleeping.”

“You’re always sleeping Mglin, when you’re not eating or drinking!” laughed Mark, “You better stay out of the brandy ration though, you know how the Captain hates it when you clean it out! Have Tuk’ Zari come to the galley in 45 minutes. We have to rethink this shipment; Sandor out.”

“Grrruh!” grumbled FerdiTuk’ Mglin, Third Cargo Officer, “Always something, nevermind.” Mglin stretched her bear-like bulk in her desk chair, which creaked alarmingly under her 300 kilos. She got out of her chair and stretched to her full height of two and a half meters. Her clothing consisted of a standard ship’s coverall, albeit in a huge size. She used her claws to scratch various parts of her anatomy where the coverall chafed a bit and to pat down the exposed fur on her head and face. Lumbering over to the airlock leading to the cargo bay, she let out a yawn that showed just what kind of teeth and fangs a carnivore would have, no matter what planet they were from. She rubbed her snout and thumped the intercom, “Zari, the Captain wants you in the galley in 3 haks. Are you done prepping the cargo?” Speaking in her native tongue, she sounded just like the angry bear she looked like.

“No,” the Cargo Chief, GaluTuk’ Zari roared back, “and I never be if you keep calling me! What does he want?”

 “Keeper of him am I? I drink his brandy; I don’t study him. That your duty-boundness be, Zari!” she snuffled back.

Stifling a yawn, the female Kiru smiled and turned away from the airlock and went in search of a bottle of brandy, the clicking of the claws on her unshod feet a comforting sound. The two male Kiru, Cargo Chief GaluTuk’ Zari and his Cargo Second JaduTuk’ Hneer, returned to their work of making sure the cargo for Briar Patch was ready for delivery.

 

 “Come on, you damn busted machine, Give!” scowled Keel, as he tried to get a cup of coffee from the galley dispenser. He kept pressing the lever that should have spat out a stream of smoking dark brown liquid, but only dribbled some rank smelling steam. After a few more seconds of futile effort, he turned away in disgust and threw his cup into the recycler. Grabbing a pitcher, he filled it with what he hoped was cold water from another spigot. Taking a new cup he walked to his seat, going over in his mind how badly this situation was. On a good day, the noise in Keel’s head was almost deafening, what with the running of the ship, keeping the crew in check, dealing with a floundering business and a whole raft of neuroses his childhood had left him with. Now, adding the thoughts of having the ship repossessed spun webs of depression through his mind that threatened to smother whatever vestiges of sanity he happened to claim at the moment. He felt his head starting to implode, when Mark walked in. He waved to Keel as he walked over to the dispenser and proceeded to draw a cup of perfectly brewed coffee from the machine. “Someday I’m gonna shoot that machine right in the spigot.” He growled.

Sandor smiled, sat down and sipped his coffee. He knew how much the Captain hated being dependant on computers. He figured that the Captain was probably a closet Luddite. He said, “If you shot up every piece of machinery that pissed you off, the ship would look like a piece of Swiss cheese and run just about as well. Let’s just get going on what we need to do to stave off starvation and the Repo Man.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Keel said, “that’s just what’s been running through my head. We need to make enough to buy some kind of cargo at our next stop. If we do dip into the reserves, I’m not sure how far we’d get. Everything has held up pretty well for the past year and a half months, but you never know when something is going to fail. On top of that, the Tachyon Pump is overdue for service. How’d you like to have it blow in the middle of a run up to tachspace?” 

Sandor gave his captain a grin and said: “At least it would happen so fast we wouldn’t feel a thing! One second, you’re bumping along happy as you please, getting ready to go faster than light. The next, you’re a stream of unfocused tachyon particles headed for the boundary of the universe, with no hope of reconstitution!”

“Christ and I thought I had a gruesome sense of humor! Well, anyway, what are your thoughts on this mess?”

Sandor looked thoughtful for a moment. His face scrunched in a way that made Keel think it was made of foam rubber instead of flesh.

“Terennio said that they were starting to get some good quality pain relievers from the thorn bushes. What about trying to get an exclusive trader’s agreement for distribution? That would be especially good if the product works cross-species, like alcohol or chocolate. It would cost quite a bit to set up a company to handle it, but it might be worth the risk.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Talk it over with Jon. See what kind of time and money we’re talking about. If you can get something together by the time we get down to Briar Patch, we might make this trip profitable yet!” he said as he felt his mood lighten a bit. “What else have you got?”

“Not much, Captain, I think we should wait until the rest of the crew get here and bring them up to speed. I’ll bet we get a bunch of ideas when we get started.” Sandor looked at Keel and saw him scowl.

“A bunch of hair-brained ideas, you mean. Getting this crew to agree on anything usually involves threats with blunt objects.” 

At that moment, Tuk’ Zari lumbered in and went straight to the bar dispenser. He drew a liter of French brandy and took a seat at the far end of the table.

“Tuk’, isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” asked Sandor.

Tuk’ Zari grumbled in his deep, gruff voice: “Today holy day for Kiru. Must drink to honor gods of home world.”

“Which gods, Zari?” asked Keel.

“Don’t remember”, said Tuk’ Zari. “That whole point of holy day. Honor which ever gods happen to be hanging around.”

Keel and Sandor both laughed. It was a welcome relief from the stressful atmosphere that had been gathering.

“Has somebody been breaking into my Med Cabinet again?” said Tony Gavalio, the stocky, gravelly-voiced Medical Officer from Detroit who walked in with Maggie Templeton, the Chief Engineer.

“Sounds like somebody started snorting some NitrOx from your gas stores, more likely!” Maggie said.  Maggie was a tall, lean woman, originally from Southern California .

Keel always felt that she had a strikingly beautiful face the color of Café’ au Lait, long dark, silky hair (currently tied up on her head) and the grace of a ballet dancer. But he also knew her looks belied her ability to swing a wrench and curse with the best of any engine room crew.

Keel looked over at them and said, “You’re early, Tony. You never show up on time, let alone early. What’s up?” 

The Chief Medical Officer smiled as he and Maggie sat down across the table from Keel. He said “Well, when Mark called me for the meeting and told me about a little ‘kink’ in the works, it sounded more interesting than the medical inventory I was working on.”

“Kink is right”, said Sandor, “the B’Hirute beat us here with a cargo of the same stuff Briar Patch ordered. And the colony was in no financial shape to pass up the offer. At least they’re taking the medical supplies at the agreed upon price, but we don’t have much leeway with the farming equipment they ordered.”

Maggie said, “We need the money for the upgrades to the engines, not to mention the fact I’m running out of bailing wire for most of the rest of the ship. What do I use to fix the airlocks the next time they start blowing out? Or the galley starts dispensing nothing but grits?”

Keel chuckled and said, “Maybe you can cannibalize the coffee dispenser to fix the airlock. The damn thing won’t give no matter what I try, so maybe it’ll keep the airlocks plugged.”

“What do you mean?” she replied, “I just used one of the last proc modules we had to get the whole galley dispensary system working after the last glitch!”

“Never mind about that, we’ve got more important things to worry.” Sandor said. He wanted to override her tendency to drop what ever she was involved in to jump in and fix something that wasn’t up to her standards. “We’ve got to figure a way to keep the ship in space, holding air and us eating. As soon as Jon gets here we’ll get started.”

“Who’s talking about me again?” said the Purser as he strolled in and got himself a cup of coffee. “Hmmmm,” he said, as he smelled the aroma of the coffee, “Columbian today. Good stuff.”

Keel went for his on-ship side arm, the one that shot plastic bullets; it would damage flesh and softer metals, but not the ship’s hull or superstructure. Sandor grabbed his hand and said: “I told you, don’t shoot up the machinery. You know how Maggie hates that!”

“What makes you think I was going to shoot the machine?” growled Keel. “Jon, get over here.” Blair sauntered over and took a seat. “OK,” started Keel, “here’s what’s up. Briar Patch will only pay for the medical supplies. The rest of the cargo they’ve already bought from the B’Hirute. We may be able to unload the farming and mining equipment but at a substantial loss, and only in barter. We have to see what they are offering before we make a decision. Did you get the list of what they are offering Jon?”

“Yes,” he said, “and it isn’t all bad. They’re loaded with that drug from the thorns. They also have a decent quantity of rare earths that they’ve been mining. We should be able to get a good price for them. They’ve only recently started mining here, mostly in the mountainous areas. The strikes they found haven’t been advertised widely and we’re the first Earth cargo ship to come here since they finished processing the ore. Between the ore and the analgesics, we might just squeak by.”

Sandor chimed in, “Maybe we can also get an exclusive on the shipping of the ore. Between those two items we might just be able to set up a nice, stable run with a steady revenue flow. What do you think, Captain?”

Keel looked thoughtful for a minute, and then said: “You mean give up the adventurous life we live and settle down? Give up the lifestyle of borderline starvation and the occasional airlock blowout? Give up the opportunity to see what really happens if the Tach Pump blows while we spin up? Gee, I don’t know if I could stand the lack of excitement. I mean, my hair might stop turning gray, and my ulcer might settle down. Then where would I be? You idiot, what do you think I think? Some peace and quiet might be a nice thing for a change. When we get to the surface, snag the Minister and see what he thinks about us being his trade and shipping agent. Maybe this won’t turn out as bad as it first seemed. Maggie, I want you to see if you can charm the Minister’s staff to see if he can throw some repairs and upgrades our way as part of our deal. Load up on any spares they’ll part with, even second hand ones. “

“I’ll be happy with some new duct tape at this point,” Maggie said as she smiled ruefully, “but I’ll push for all I can.”

“OK, thanks. Tony, I want you and Clair to work with the Medical staff on planet to see just what this wonder drug can do. See if there’s anything that we need to worry about. I don’t want to find out we just became the sole distributors of the next heroin or MaxTime. Zari, make sure the cargo of ore is clean of any radioactives. I don’t want to spend most of the time in our next port doing DeCon on the cargo hold. I think this should do for now. We’ve got about 5 hours before we need to be there. Let’s get set, and get some rest before we head down. Meet me in the shuttle bay in 4 hours.” With that, Keel leaned back and closed his eyes. Everybody but his First Officer went their separate ways.

“We’ve got a good crew.” Sandor said, “But you’ve got to ease up on yourself. You’ll give yourself an ulcer if you don’t calm down.”

He smiled at him and said, “Some days if I don’t feel stressed I don’t feel alive; at least that’s how it seems.”

“Well I need to get ready for the trip down. Which shuttle are we taking?”

“None of them; I’m still honked off so we’ll take my gig down. I’ll send Zari and his crew down with the shuttles when the time comes for the cargo transfer.”

Sandor looked at him like he was a little nuts and said, “Are you sure you really want to show up at a small colony space port in a fully functioning fighter-bomber, loaded with every weapon you could get your hands on?”

“Yup; especially with that rat Mac down there; I don’t trust him in the least!”

 

 

Chapter II – This really isn’t a good day to mess with me…

             “Incoming ship, this is Briar Patch main, Controller One. Please identify.”

“Mac,” said Toby who was Controller Two, “there’s only one ship in orbit and we know who it is. We’ve been expecting them to come down around this time.”

“Shut up, Toby.” Mac said, “I’ve got a score to settle with this Keel. Let me have a little fun. What’s the harm?”

“Ok, it’s your ass. I’m gonna go down and get some coffee. Call me when you’re done screwing around.”

“Ok”, said Controller One as he cracked his knuckles and chuckled, “now let’s have some real fun! Incoming ship, I repeat, please identify. If you do not identify in the next 30 seconds I will be forced to deny you landing privileges. I repeat, you will not be allowed to land.” Not a peep came from the radio. On the radar, the incoming ship was still 200 miles up and 1000 miles from the spaceport. It would still be a couple of minutes before it was close enough and he had to be concerned with guiding the ship in. Thirty seconds ticked off, and then another thirty, and now he was getting ticked off.

“Ok, wise guy, see how you like this. Incoming ship, you have violated standard Allied Worlds landing procedures. You are hereby ordered to return to orbit immediately, and await further instructions. That’ll show him!” he said as he clicked off his mike. Sure enough, the ship was climbing back to orbit. Yup, there it goes, accelerating back up. Yup, back up there she goes, up, up, uh, wait, why is it looping? It’s coming back down?

All of a sudden the tower radio crackled on, with the voice of Mac’s boss, Minister Terennio; “Controller One, what the hell is going on? I just got a call from the Captain of the Rusted Nuts and he is not happy. He said you denied him permission to land. Explain yourself and it better be good!”

“Sir”, he said, “he violated procedure and did not identify himself in a timely fashion. As per the regulations, I denied him landing permission and ordered him back into orbit.”

“Mac”, Terennio yelled. “You have no idea the trouble you just caused me! You are hereby demoted to Controller Two. Toby is now Controller One. Toby, are you there?”

“Uh, Toby went for coffee, sir. He’s down in the commissary. Should I get him?”

“No”, said the Minister, “when I send the port police to arrest you I will have them get Toby back up there.”

“Arrest me? For what?” Mac yelled, “I followed the regulations, I did everything by the book!”

“You’re going to choke on the book when I’m done! And the charges will include insubordination, gross negligence and attempted murder!” screamed Terennio.

“Attempted murder? Whose? They went back into orbit, nothing happened!” whined Mac.

“Mine! You’re going to give me a stroke with this stunt! Terennio out!”

Mac watched his life and pension flash before his eyes. Maybe he had gone too far this time.

“Mac?”

He jumped at the sound of this own name, but it was only Toby. He had come back with a cup of coffee for him.

“Everybody heard the conversation with the Minister. He piped it all over the base. I warned you about screwing around like that.” he looked sad, and that infuriated Mac.

“What the hell are you complaining about? You just got promoted. You’re my boss now, at least until they come and arrest me. So there you go, Controller One, guide that ship in while I just sit here and take orders.”

“Mac”, he said in disgust, “you never learn do you?” Walking over to the console, he called the ship. “Incoming ship, please acknowledge. We apologize for the little misunderstanding just now. Everything is under control. Please break orbit and land with our permission and thanks.”

“Toby”, Mac said, “they never went back to orbit. They just looped up out of the atmosphere and started to come back down. In all the confusion just now, I didn’t follow their track.”

He checked the radar. His throat started to close and his spine turned cold. He pointed to the radar and said, “He’s coming in hot! That doesn’t look like a landing run, that’s more like a goddamn strafing run! He’s gonna be overhead in about ten seconds! Incoming ship what the hell is going on! You are coming in too fast for a landing, break off and come around for another attempt!”

The radio crackled and a rough, laughing voice said, “What make you think I’m coming in for a landing?”

He looked out the tower window and saw his own life, not to mention death, flash before his eyes. He saw, just for an instant, the sleek shape of a fighter-bomber. The same kind he used to fly. He knew what the ship was capable of doing, when flown by an experienced pilot. He looked at Mac and said, “If we live through this you won’t have to worry about the Minister. I’m gonna kill you myself!”

Both of them ducked under the desks and prayed, just as the fighter slewed past the tower at something over Mach 3. Every pane of glass shattered and the roof flew off of the control tower. The fighter gracefully looped around and came in for a perfectly normal landing. Mac and Toby picked themselves up off the floor, covered in the ruins of their tower.

“Uh, I think I’m gonna retire.” Mac mumbled to himself, since both of them were deaf. He looked over at Toby who looked both shaken and furious at the same time. He had a pole in his hand, one of the support struts from the tower windows. He was getting up and coming toward Mac, saying something that Mac couldn’t hear. But he thought he saw Toby’s lips move and utter the same word over and over…it looked like “Kill… Kill… Kill…”

 

Keel looked at the ruins of the tower and smiled. That felt good, he thought.

“Captain,” Maggie called out from the passenger compartment behind the pilot’s cabin, “did you really have to do that? You could have hurt or killed somebody!”

“Well”, he replied, “he really did honk me off and made us waste fuel by going back into orbit.”

“But how much fuel did you waste on that childish strafing run?”

“Not as much as I would have wasted hovering there and blasting the tower with the forward batteries. Fundamental physic; it take more fuel to remain stationary than it does to fly downward with a gravity assist. Besides, I don’t have to recharge the forward batteries either.” Keel turned his attention to shutting down the ship. “Mark, set the engines and reactors to standby. Leave them hot in case we have to take off in a hurry.”

“OK, Captain, standby it is. Anything else, like set the proximity alarm to fry anybody that comes within 100 yards of the ship, maybe?” He said sarcastically.

“That may not be such a bad idea. I really don’t have a good feeling about this whole deal.”

“Jeez, Jeremiah, you really are having one of those days, aren’t you?” asked Maggie.

The rest of the crew chuckled and unbelted themselves and headed for the airlock. Sandor shook his head and grimaced, having been with Keel long enough to know today would be a special kind of day. The kind that might land them in the local jail, at the very least.