Marshall Everett Dylan cut an imposing figure in his 'danetech spacesuit, especially as it appeared to be one of the ones adapted from deep-sea diving. His stride was a little strained as he was apparently used to the lesser gravity of the 'danelaw parts of Luna. His eyes flashed back and forth between myself and the Dobbses.
"Which one of you," he asked in the typical NASA drawl affected by most 'dane spacers, "is the Captain?"
I smiled gently and replied. "I am the Captain of the Pinafore."
And a right good Captain, too! Buttercup chorused.
"'Tis true, by trow," I said to her pickups, "But please, not now."
Awww! That's no fun!
The Marshall's eyes crinkled a bit. That was good, he was somewhat used to the quirks of Fenships. "Right, Lieutenant Nelson said you needed to see me?"
I straightened the cuffs on my jumpsuit. "Yes, I had to rescue these nice folks," I said, indicating the Dobbses, "and their charter pilot from the scumbag in my brig. I was too late to stop the biomods you see, but I was able to stop the brainwashing procedures before he got them into the slave markets." I glanced at the door to the decks below. "Well, I saved the Dobbses. Their pilot has suffered mental trauma and may not ever be normal again."
"The poor dear," Mrs Dobbs interjected.
"I see," the marshall said. "Evidence?"
I handed him a DVD. "From a vanilla camcorder. I also have the logs from his asteroid base in Earth-Sol Lagrange cluster five."
"Right. This appears to be in order." He removed a device from a magnetic holster at the waist of his suit and passed it over the Dobbses. He frowned slightly at the various bloops and bleeps it emitted, replaced it and pulled out a voice recorder. "Is the pilot modified the same way?"
"Approximately," I replied. "Her hair is black, rather than the blonde you see here."
"Right. With your permission Captain, I'd like to take the Dobbses' statements on board."
I quirked an eyebrow. That was unusual. Normally, the 'danelaw rep would take the victims to his base for their statements. 'Well,' I thought, 'maybe there's something going on at the base.'
"I don't think that will be a problem. Just tell Buttercup when you're done." I walked belowdeck and made my way to the cabin I'd put the pilot into. Her modified Checker Cab sat beside the Pearl Forrester in my vehicle bay. Hopefully, the marshall would be able to use the license plates on it to identify who she used to be.
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll
"Which one of you," he asked in the typical NASA drawl affected by most 'dane spacers, "is the Captain?"
I smiled gently and replied. "I am the Captain of the Pinafore."
And a right good Captain, too! Buttercup chorused.
"'Tis true, by trow," I said to her pickups, "But please, not now."
Awww! That's no fun!
The Marshall's eyes crinkled a bit. That was good, he was somewhat used to the quirks of Fenships. "Right, Lieutenant Nelson said you needed to see me?"
I straightened the cuffs on my jumpsuit. "Yes, I had to rescue these nice folks," I said, indicating the Dobbses, "and their charter pilot from the scumbag in my brig. I was too late to stop the biomods you see, but I was able to stop the brainwashing procedures before he got them into the slave markets." I glanced at the door to the decks below. "Well, I saved the Dobbses. Their pilot has suffered mental trauma and may not ever be normal again."
"The poor dear," Mrs Dobbs interjected.
"I see," the marshall said. "Evidence?"
I handed him a DVD. "From a vanilla camcorder. I also have the logs from his asteroid base in Earth-Sol Lagrange cluster five."
"Right. This appears to be in order." He removed a device from a magnetic holster at the waist of his suit and passed it over the Dobbses. He frowned slightly at the various bloops and bleeps it emitted, replaced it and pulled out a voice recorder. "Is the pilot modified the same way?"
"Approximately," I replied. "Her hair is black, rather than the blonde you see here."
"Right. With your permission Captain, I'd like to take the Dobbses' statements on board."
I quirked an eyebrow. That was unusual. Normally, the 'danelaw rep would take the victims to his base for their statements. 'Well,' I thought, 'maybe there's something going on at the base.'
"I don't think that will be a problem. Just tell Buttercup when you're done." I walked belowdeck and made my way to the cabin I'd put the pilot into. Her modified Checker Cab sat beside the Pearl Forrester in my vehicle bay. Hopefully, the marshall would be able to use the license plates on it to identify who she used to be.
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll