Sunday May 18, 2008
Book 10: The Longshoreman of the Apocalypse — Part I: Wet Feet


Narrator: Coordinating with Credomar Habitat Traffic Control. . .
Captain Tagon: I'm sure you don't know who shot at us, but can you guess? And we're still waiting for a dock assignment.
Myron: No idea, Touch-And-Go. Antimatter warheads? No profit in that. It's just vandalism.
Captain Tagon: And attempted murder. Do you know any vandals? Or murderers? With access to antimatter?
Myron: Nope. But I've got your dock assignment. We'll put you in Northport. Dock Number One is clear, and agents are standing by to receive.
Efrim: Negative, Touch-And-Go. You are assigned to Southport, Dock Four. We've got receiving agents standing by.
Myron: Efrim, get off this channel! Touch-And-Go, belay that. Southport's agents are trying to hijack the delivery.
Efrim: Really? From here it looks like Northport doing the hijacking. Get off the channel yourself, Myron!
Captain Tagon: Excuse me. . . Who is in charge down there?
: Touch-And-Go, sorry for the delays. We've had to hack back into our own system. This is the real Credomar Traffic Control. You want Northport, Dock Six. Look for the red uniforms.
Ennesby: Sir, we're getting an analog radio transmission from a makeshift antenna on the hull of the habitat. It's weak, but it repeats. "Please don't let them steal the food again. We're hungry."
Captain Tagon: Right.
Captain Tagon: Thurl, check the contract. Do we get paid on delivery, or on distribution? It's one of those d-words, and I can't remember which one.
Thurl: Distribution.
Captain Tagon: Dammit. . . is also a d-word.