The package was about the size of a refrigerator, but didn't weigh all that much -- there was only one grav-lifter module attached, and it was a small one. It was a bit unwieldy, with the large size, and the corridors of the asteroid-station to navigate. Unpacking it, she found a large quantity of air-filled padding balloons, as expected, and a hard plastic instrument case about as tall as she was. She laid it out flat on the sofa and started to unclip the fastenings when...
"Uhm, Gally?"
The box forgotten at the tap on her shoulder, she whirled about, knife appearing out of nowhere in one hand, to look straight into the eyes of... her boss. "Eep! Don't -do- that, sir. One of these days someone isn't going to recognize you in time, and...."
"Alright, Gally, alright, I'll try to be good. I see you got it. Didn't have any trouble?"
"None at all, boss, none at all. Well, some arsewipe tried to bid me up on it, but I gave him a look and he backed down..."
Chris Marsden shook his head, stifling a laugh. "Oh, Gally, Gally, Gally. I'd tell you you're supposed to save the Glare O Doom for important matters... but this one kind of -is- important. So no lecture. Let's just hope it's in as good a shape as they promised."
Gally set herself down on one of the (very comfortable) visitor chairs, and nodded. "It looked OK at the auction, but what do I know from this stuff? I'm a gunsel, you should've sent a specialist."
"Oh, I did contact one," Marsden confessed. "He pointed out this particular auction to me... then confessed that he'd already been agented by three other buyers. So I wanted an independent on site. It was probably him that was bidding against you. I hope you didn't scare him -too- much..."
"He didn't have to run to the little boys' room for clean trousers afterwards, so I'd say it wasn't too much. I even got to bid on that dagger I wanted... got that one, too."
"Well congratulations, hon," Marsden mused, lifting out the instrument from the padded case. "A bit overkill on the packing, but I suppose it can't hurt." He adjusted the tension on the bow briefly, then settled in to string the cello and tune it. "I do hope the poor kid appreciates it."
Gally grinned casually and sat back, watching the boss at work.
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.
"Uhm, Gally?"
The box forgotten at the tap on her shoulder, she whirled about, knife appearing out of nowhere in one hand, to look straight into the eyes of... her boss. "Eep! Don't -do- that, sir. One of these days someone isn't going to recognize you in time, and...."
"Alright, Gally, alright, I'll try to be good. I see you got it. Didn't have any trouble?"
"None at all, boss, none at all. Well, some arsewipe tried to bid me up on it, but I gave him a look and he backed down..."
Chris Marsden shook his head, stifling a laugh. "Oh, Gally, Gally, Gally. I'd tell you you're supposed to save the Glare O Doom for important matters... but this one kind of -is- important. So no lecture. Let's just hope it's in as good a shape as they promised."
Gally set herself down on one of the (very comfortable) visitor chairs, and nodded. "It looked OK at the auction, but what do I know from this stuff? I'm a gunsel, you should've sent a specialist."
"Oh, I did contact one," Marsden confessed. "He pointed out this particular auction to me... then confessed that he'd already been agented by three other buyers. So I wanted an independent on site. It was probably him that was bidding against you. I hope you didn't scare him -too- much..."
"He didn't have to run to the little boys' room for clean trousers afterwards, so I'd say it wasn't too much. I even got to bid on that dagger I wanted... got that one, too."
"Well congratulations, hon," Marsden mused, lifting out the instrument from the padded case. "A bit overkill on the packing, but I suppose it can't hurt." He adjusted the tension on the bow briefly, then settled in to string the cello and tune it. "I do hope the poor kid appreciates it."
Gally grinned casually and sat back, watching the boss at work.
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.