In Kassad's rented hanger the Sabha squatted on its extended landing struts. The struts at the forward end extended significantly more than the aft section to facilitate loading of cargo. In Kassad's mind this nose-up posture made Sabha look somewhat disgruntled at being inspecting by a stranger. While Kassad could only see the figure's feet at his ship's far end, he immediately felt a certain annoyance at their presumptive presence. Ignoring his guest who had not introduced herself Kassad busied himself performing a quick visual inspection of the venting ports for the reaction drive. Not that eyesight alone was sufficient to determine anything of worth about the mechanisms. So much of the mission would depend on these devices that Kassad felt they merited personal attention in addition to the usual molecular level safety inspection scans. A couple of meters from the sharp conical end of the twin teardrop hulls the vents expressed themselves. They formed a discreet gap in a ring through which the thrust generated could be directed. The cone sections could then be adjusted to deflect the thrust as much as one hundred and ten degrees in any direction. They made the Sabha incredibly agile. A distinctly feminine voice called out to Kassad from the other side of the vessel."I have some equipment to load and I trust your ship will be ready to go as soon as it is loaded." "I trust her too." Kassad replied, openly admiring the lines of his vessel. With a whistle Kassad called for the front facing loading ramp to open. The ramp provided ingress through a large airlock located in the join between the two teardrop hull segments. From the top of the ramp one could move into the starboard section which housed the living and working spaces along with assorted equipment, or to the port section which housed the main cargo hold. Having both hulls separated by an airlock was a survivability attribute inherited from her military design. No sooner did the ramp finish extending then a deep loud burst of threatening canine barking emanated from it. Openly annoyed instead of concerned the female voice complained, "No one said anything about wild animals on the ship." A bemused Kassad came around Sabha's portside to see his guest staring down a growling hound. The dog's stance was that of a fighter, legs slightly spread, tail straight and stiff, head and ears low with teeth prominently displayed. At a little over a half a meter tall the dog was clad in a thick tricolor coat in pure white, shades of brown almost orange, and a black so dark and glossy it gleamed blue under the hanger lights. To Kassad's eye the colors combined to make the dog look like he was wearing a uniform. Kassad ordered sternly, "Canis, guest." At the command the dog's demeanor immediately altered. The thick tail came up and began wagging like a pennant, his head and head and ears came up spritely, and the mouth relaxed to let the tongue hang out slightly. As the animal trotted forward to sniff the stranger in a friendly manner it seemed an almost impossibly abrupt shift of attitude. The distraction gave Kassad a chance to look over his guest. She looked to be about Kassad's own age, although that didn't mean anything these days. She was dressed in a civilian's version of a spacer's suit, sleek and form fitting at the sacrifice of long term comfort and durability. It accentuated her form well showing her modest curves and fashionably honed strength to good effect. Jerking her thumb towards the friendly hound Greene observed sourly, "It might be a good idea to leave the animal behind. Our data suggests that simpler life forms are affected more quickly by the region than more complex ones." Kassad wasn't about to take suggestions from a stranger about how to run his ship, but with a raised eyebrow he managed to make a joke about it rather than taking offense. "If that is the case then perhaps Canis should undertake this mission alone." Canis barked enthusiasm at the endorsement. Kassad concluded by giving the dog a vigorous patting on its back, saying, "Anyway, he's not an animal. Canis is crew, and a vital asset to any mission." Still not introducing herself Greene hefted two large metal cases from a stack of luggage next to the automated medical units that would supplement the Sabha's sickbay. In response to the work demanded of them the muscles in her arms and down her flanks rippled in a way Kassad found pleasing. As she mounted the ramp Kassad lingered below for a moment to admire her movements. Ignoring Kassad's defense of the dog Greene changed topics interrupting Kassad's approving gaze. "I didn't see any viewports. If your sensors stop working do you have a plan to navigate?" Following his guest up the ramp Kassad explained, "My plan is to play this by ear. We'll know what we have to work with when we're on the other side. Sabha is a good ship, I know her, and I trust her." After a pause to deactivate Sabha's internal security he added, "There is in fact a starlight navigation port that can be opened for emergencies, but if it comes to that it seems likely the rescue mission will have to be called off does it not?" Navigation by eye in the vastness of space was a rather absurd proposition although Kassad determined not to insult his guest by saying so out loud. It would require that you happened to know how the patterns of local stars should look from wherever you happened to be in the supercluster. Taking a ship into atmosphere without a machine calculated interface path was something that Kassad found so absurd he could only call it suicidal, and this too he did not say out of politeness. Knowing that a failure to grasp the seriousness of the task could just add their lives to the list of lost Greene observed with worry, "You don't seem worried." With a nonchalant laugh Kassad admitted, "This ship has done surveys of Law's End without reporting unexpected trouble with the sensors, and I have to admit that I'm more curious than worried. The only reason I haven’t crossed Law's End before this is simply because there was never any profit in it." Inside the airlock Kassad paused to activate the cargo management robot, looking like a small somewhat scuffed and dented forklift. "Luggage to stateroom five, secure cargo in the lower cargo hold." The small robot verbally repeated the order to verify it before trundling off to complete its task largely ignored. Greene stopped and turned to face Kassad, and then as if with a great force of will said, "Thank you." Kassad smirked. "The name is Kassad Mir, and you may call me Kassad, but there's no need to thank me. It's not like I'm doing it myself… um, miss?" Of course Kassad knew her name, but it would have been presumptuous and ungentlemanly to use any lady's name uninvited, and Kassad was always a gentleman when it was convenient. She peeked through the open hatchway to the cargo bay before reversing course to head into the living spaces and finally answering, "It's Misses Greene, and I meant about taking the job. Time is critical and not doing anything was driving me mad. It feels good to be doing something." Kassad smiled again, pausing to take in his passenger's departing form once again, before following. "I'll be on the bridge making sure the tanks are topped off and getting final clearance to depart. Let me know when you're ready to go." Sabha's crew compartment comprised two levels with this first level being for passengers. There were eight small staterooms connected by a recreation area, walls stepped and narrowing as they went aft so that they could serve as climbing stairs when in flight. The walls were festooned with hand and footholds in places that suggested how the space would function under different conditions. At the extreme end of the space there was a partitioned meal preparation area and at the near end were steeply inclined stairs, known by spacefarers as a ladder, leading to the Sabha's upper deck. In his first year operating the Sabha Kassad had salvaged a wrecked yacht and from its hull he had extracted furniture whose combined value had rivaled that of the Sabha herself. None of the luxury furniture matched that which the Sabha had been refitted with when originally transferred to civilian service, let alone the few remaining pieces of furniture from when she was a military vessel. Rather than try to reconcile this clash of decoration Kassad had accentuated it by adding racing stripes and geometric patterns in bold colors to the bulkheads. Somehow everything managed to clash equally with everything else in a consistent style that managed to baffle the more astute visitors. As Kassad started up the ladder to the cockpit Greene considered the retreating form of her host. "I must say Mister Mir that your appearance lives up to your reputation." Greene said as the cargo handling robot returned beneath a stack of luggage with Canis following as if supervising the machine. Pausing on the ladder Kassad leaned back, slightly bending his knees and arching his spine, to give his guest a better view of his own physique. "Call me Kassad, Mister Mir was my father, and which reputation is it that you refer to?" It was Greene's turn to smirk. "The way Professor Fitzgerald speaks one would think you're some sort of pirate." Causing Greene to recoil reflexively Canis barked a violent response to Greene's words. Instantly the dog had gone from friendly back into attack mode. The barking was so sharp as to be painful in its echoing around the enclosed space as Canis jerked this way and that trying to determine the direction of the threat. The dog's short legs started him in one direction and then the other before being waved into silence by Kassad. Taking a few steps back down the ladder Kassad smiled amusedly at the description. "Oh no, there's very little of that. Too much legitimate or at least semi-legitimate work to justify the risks involved in that sort of work." Certainly there were always enough opportunities down the wells of major settlements to keep the number of people willing to take the risks of life in deep space low enough to keep the profits for all deep space work reasonably high. Rolling her eyes in disbelief Greene inquired, "So you're admitting to just a little piracy?" Canis response was a yip of ear splitting volume unmistakably directed at Greene and in clear disapproval of the term. Shrugging noncommittally Kassad said, "I'm a freelancer so I end up doing a lot of things. Can't even be certain the work I've done would rise to either the glamorous levels you'd consider worthy of that nefarious term," this brought only a worried grumbling from Canis as Kassad leaned over to reassuringly rub the dogs head with one hand, "but in technical terms yes." Popular concepts of piracy weren't very practical in reality and tended to be far from the truth. The few freelance ship owners who would take on jobs where there was serious risk that someone might get hurt didn't last long. Pilfering the contents of automated cargo haulers was still very much illegal, however only the insurance companies ever seriously complained while many spacers considered it good sport. Even for the companies targeted it only became serious if you pursued their ships enough to threaten their competitive solvency. Reality was that there truly was enough legitimate work that paid well enough to put anyone off the idea of working in the deadly environment of space let alone high risk areas of crime. Even the technically grey areas of criminal activity could only barely make the risk to reward ratio high enough to be tempting. It was mostly thrill seekers like Kassad who dared to skirt the law. Misses Greene raised an eyebrow at the admission, "A bold pirate." This time the word provoked a soft mumbling growl from Canis, who left in a disgruntled huff to return to the loading ramp voicing his disapproval the whole way. Smirking Kassad spread his hands and gave a casual shrug. "The universe favors the bold." Shaking her head at Kassad's casual attitude Greene reminded him, "You can't count on those kinds of rules where we're going. None of our assumptions can be relied upon." Finding this a rather amusing statement Kassad tried not to let it show. Everyone knew normal physical laws couldn't be relied upon beyond Law's End, but it was still the same universe. Hydrogen still burned in stars, gravity still pulled everything to center, and electricity still worked a circuit. Crossing his arms Kassad melodramatically cocked his head roguishly. "Ah, well, that's half the reason to go isn't it? I've been hearing about this Law's End since I was a child, but they're all spacer's stories and fables. I'd very much like to see what the truth is." Unimpressed by the bold assertion Greene inquired wryly, "And yet here you are with your own ship and somehow you've never gone?" "No, but the Sabha has." Kassad ran one hand lovingly down a bulkhead. I've never found an excuse to make the journey myself." Kassad gestured broadly. "There's plenty enough to keep a gentleman adventurer such as myself occupied in the hundred thousand galaxies." Shaking her head in disbelief Greene scoffed at Kassad's description of himself, and asked, "What is it that makes a person live that sort of life?" It was a common enough attitude largely responsible for keeping travel between the stars as lucrative as it was. Even the best radiation shielding did almost nothing against cosmic rays, and long before one could accumulate a lethal dose there would be serious genetic damage. With genetic rejuvenation therapy being prohibitively expensive it limited the amount of time and the number of people willing to make a living in the void.