Sensing an opportunity to pry loose the information that his employer had clearly omitted from the job description Kassad offered, "I'll explain myself to you in detail if you tell me what this job is really about." With an indignant glare Greene retorted, "We're rescuing some good people." With a wry smile Kassad sarcastically suggested, "Well then how about we just say that travel appeals to my wanderlust?" "So you're a romantic?" Greene rolled her eyes, "I should have guessed." Leaning up against a bulkhead suggestively Kassad said, "The universe can always use more romance." Greene responded as if reciting a mantra, "No, the universe doesn't need anything. The people in it need hard facts and actionable data." Only a little deflated Kassad observed, "Spoken like a true University woman." Then reluctantly accepting the rebuff Kassad extended an empty hand palm up. "I suppose that's why you're not the pirate." An angry rapid barking came explosively from somewhere in the distance. Remarking on the bark Greene asked, "Okay, what's the story with the animal?" "Canis?" Kassad asked in mock confusion. "He's not an animal, although he used to be a customs patrol service dog. A lot of people prefer them over electronic chemical scanners. Following his service there I'm afraid he developed certain intolerances for the criminal element." An incredulous Green inquired, "A customs dog? And he ended up with you how? Why?" Replying as if it were the most natural thing in Laniakea Kassad explained, "Picked him up from a veterinary rehab hospital. A 'you-know-what' had shot him. The customs people decided it would be cheaper to replace him than pay the bill. So I covered his bill and he joined the crew. He's done wonders for security, as you've already seen, and we don't…" he considered the phrasing carefully, "discretely transport anything if he can still find it." Greene's initial response was a long slow blink. "So you're also a smuggler?" This term too invoked a torrent of distant barking. "Oh no, now you're just upsetting my crew on purpose." Kassad protested. "Just about everything we transport is legal…" he reconsidered the assertion, "at least it is where we pick it up. Protectionist markets can be seductively lucrative for the sufficiently daring entrepreneur." Shaking her head again Greene grabbed her personal gear and headed to the living quarters commenting, "Quite the set up you have here." Kassad smiled again while taking in his passenger's departing form and commented more to himself than anyone else, "You don't know the half of it." Chapter 3: "Outbound" "There is not one way to traverse space. There is not even a best way to traverse space." -Galius Tromor, captain of the exploration ship Cabral Sabha's cockpit was a small but spacious affair with a pair of tandem seats separated by a center console of miscellaneous controls and indicators. Originally intended for a cramped crew of four, including navigator, sensor operator, weapons operator, and commander, there was ample space for two. The Spartan acceleration chairs of military use had been quickly replaced by more comfortable civilian variants when Sabha had first been adapted for private use. Later Kassad had replaced those with sumptuous 'couches' from the yacht he'd salvaged. Greene slid into the cockpit seat adjacent to Kassad's own saying, "I'm ready when you are." As she buckled in she noticed Canis curled up in a dog sized acceleration bed built into the angles of the cockpit's rear bulkhead as the virtual display expanded to encompass her. In place of windows information from the sensors mounted around the hull were compiled and presented as a virtual representation of the world around them. From the co-pilot's chair anywhere Greene could turn her head showed the world outside Sabha's hull as if there was nothing in between. While this visual representation was useful in the close quarters of port maneuvering it was the information layer that was most critical. In color coded blues and greens with the occasional symbols in bright red all of the most important information was presented overlaying the virtual window. A few of the icons Greene understood but many were from the specialist symbology that only ship's crews ever bothered to learn. Once they were in space the symbology layer would be all that remained visible with starlight being too faint to avoid being drowned out by even the cockpit's modest lighting. Noting Greene's expression as she took the cockpit view in Kassad corrected his passenger with a chuckle, "No, you are ready now." Greene rolled her eyes at the quip more than a little annoyed at the delays that the rescue operation had already suffered she noted, "And yet we're still here." "We're waiting on the final check of a port safety inspection." Kassad explained pointing to the virtual cockpit window that showed heavy equipment on thick metal arms extending from the hanger walls to skim along the outside of the Sabha's hull. "I've trained the loader well but we wouldn't want any of that gear you brought aboard rolling through a bulkhead." Greene observed disbelievingly, "You have a trained machine and an animal as crew." Nodding amiably Kassad replied, "Yes, and now I have a sarcastic passenger." "You're going to have an irate passenger if we don't get moving soon." Ignoring the comment Kassad checked departure status with the tap of a key and inquired, "So what's all the equipment for? I know about the medical pods, but what's in the cases?" "System's monitoring equipment." Greene explained. "They'll provide a feedback loop checking the status of equipment. They can even cut off power to systems that may become dangerously unstable." It made a certain amount of sense to Kassad to monitor prolonged exposure of systems. "I take it that you'll be attaching those to life support, data, and thrust systems?" With a shrug Greene said, "They didn't take long to set up." And it went without saying that Greene preferred to work on systems that weren't actively in use. That was one of the rules her husband had always tried to impress on her even before they were married. Of course she hadn't had much cause to work on equipment herself in recent years, and this had been an excellent stretching of those mental muscles. In disapproving tone Kassad chided her, "Really you should tell the captain before making changes to any systems." Trying not to be annoyed at what she saw as petty bureaucratic niggling Greene asked, "Why?" It was sometimes difficult for Kassad to remember the startling shift in perspective that deep space work had brought him. The way those living their planned and managed lives secure in the belief that there was a place for everything and everything was in its place. The reality was that their personal electronic assistants managed everything behind the scenes to present that illusion. So extensive was the ability to forecast and plan for world based events that only rarely did things fall apart in such a way that people had their routines interrupted. "The answer is because a captain is legally responsible for the condition of his ship." Seeing that Greene was unimpressed by the answer Kassad elaborated, "If we get stopped by a custom's patrol they're going to ask me if there have been any changes to equipment from what is listed in the registry. If you make changes I'm the one responsible. If I don't know about the changes then I'm derelict in my responsibilities. A lot of polities will take your ship for that sort of thing." It still didn't make much sense to Greene who shook her head saying, "It's a strange life you have out here." "No," Kassad explained patiently, "it's straightforward and simple, but different. There's never any confusion as to who is responsible for what and when." Although Kassad noted mentally that when one worked alone things were even simpler. "To prevent any future faux pas just ask before making any changes to ship's equipment." Dismissively Greene replied, "You just worry about getting us to Law's End." There was a lot that Kassad was willing to let go unanswered for the amount of money this job promised and so he turned his attention to the task at hand. "Beckstine Ground Control, this is the Sabha, berth Seven A, with clearance Three Romeo Oscar Juliette, requesting taxi instructions to priority orbital path." Offhandedly Kassad wondered if this were the third Rescue Operation clearance granted that day or for the operational cycle of the starport. A Romeo Oscar Juliette designation let everyone know in the most legal way possible what the Sabha was up to. Anyone glancing at their cockpit or bridge navigation display would see the letters in red over the Sabha's sensor track making everyone aware this was not some routine cargo run or tourism jaunt. The disembodied voice that answered was firm enough to represent a veteran operator or an artificial purpose built construct. "Sabha, this is Beckstine Ground Control. You are granted clearance to departure track India. Be aware of heavy cargo haulers in transit above your track. Contact Orbital Traffic Control for clearance to orbital path. Good luck Sabha." The world side starport of Beckstine had too much traffic to get to know the people running it on the personal basis that most small operators like Kassad depended upon. It was also large enough and dealt with enough traffic that preferential treatment for preferred customers was of dubious value anyway. Even a designated rescue operation only got the Sabha moved to near the front of the waiting list for the designated off-world transit pathways. Although everyone recognized the importance of a rescue operation it couldn't force everyone to stop what they were doing with this much traffic in play. For Kassad the big question raised by all of this was whether they would grant the designation lightly. It was worth knowing if a shrewd ship's captain could get such head of the line privileges even if their holds were packed with commercial exports. It was the sort of information that could win one port preference over another as a way station in the hundred thousand galaxies. Even without windows the full spectrum sensor display wrapping around the cockpit provided a better-than-eyes view of everything above, below, and around the Sabha. Lifting free of the hanger provided a dizzying panoramic of cargo traffic in route to and from the starport and the numerous industrial centers on the world. A receding series of bright green squares was painted over the view to indicate the approved transit corridor for the Sabha as a convoy of building sized cargo haulers passed overhead. Keying the communications channel to Ground Traffic Control one last time Kassad announced, "This is Sabha, tracking heavies, thank you Ground Control." On the other hand if the port made a habit of routing small traffic under large traffic it would be a mark against them. Large traffic produced large down forces that tended to buffet any vessels transiting below, with the possibility of inflicting expensive foreign object damage. Weaving within the designated traffic track the Sabha evaded the potential navigation hazards from above as she made her way to the designated orbital pathway. Arriving at the departure zone Kassad switched channels, "Beckstine Orbital Control, this is Sabha clearance Three Romeo Oscar Juliette, holding at departure track India, outbound and awaiting instructions." Of course the computer systems would do all the work of scheduling and plotting traffic. It was even questionable if the voices Kassad was interacting with were synthesized or an indicator of an actual buffer between transiting ships and the machinery that routed them. Typically large population worlds keep part of their population employed in these jobs while less populated worlds relied completely on automation. Then again in the hundred thousand galaxies virtually anything was possible and very little of it would have surprised Kassad. A new voice crackled into being in the cockpit, "Sabha, you are cleared to depart via orbital track India, contact System Traffic Control prior to orbit. Good luck." It was the second 'good-luck' and it put Kassad in mind of a very natural reaction from a sentient being reacting to a rescue mission instead of a machine response, but Misses Greene interrupted his pondering by saying, "It certainly is a lot of work to get off a world." Smiling at the uninitiated comment Kassad angled the Sabha's bow up into the virtual corridor to orbit. With the shift in ship's orientation the world's gravity was now at their backs and pulled them more firmly into their seats. Balanced on the reactionless drive in this way Sabah only yielded slightly to the world's winds.