The Lost Goats, 43
Aug. 1st, 2012 10:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencerDrakamur, where the widow Thessalote's son was engaged in dam-building, boasted a nicely varied climate, some impressive scenery, and a prosperous and largely contented population. Sure enough, in the local shops were to be found the produce of Endelli, Hamilcar and other Affiliated worlds. The dam project was one of the latest in a series of remedial works that had only become possible since the planet's economy had become properly self-regulating.
"From my mam?" said the sunburned young man in the hard hat. "Are you sure? She can't read nor write nohow..."
Soren passed him the letter, and he read every word with care, moving his lips silently. When he looked up from it, his eyes were bright. "Thank you, gents," he said. "I been trying to bring her out here, but she won't come. I...I'd like to send an answer, if you don't mind."
"We thought you might," Zander said, opening his briefcase and producing a medium-sized com unit, subtly enhanced with N-band capability on a limited range of frequencies. Its mate proved to be in the care of the widow's next door neighbour, who was persuaded to carry it to the lady's house and summon her from her labours.
Zander and Soren tactfully withdrew while the conversation took place.
"So," Zander said, once they were back aboard the smallship and leaving orbit, "that's it. Four lost goats recovered, one MIA, two AWOL, and six sets of coup files duly recovered or destroyed. Home again, home again, tinkerty-tonk."
"Not quite," Soren reminded him. "There's still Snood to deal with."
"Galen can handle him. He likes bringing ruffians to book."
"Galen can't stop the coup. He might be able to get the lottery stopped, but it's too late for that to make any difference. That would just bring the tipping point closer. He needs us."
"Otslag first, then, to confer, and then--what the frod?"
The smallship rocked as it was struck by repeated weapons fire.
"Hello again, boys," came the voice of Definitely-Not-A-Pirate Jenny. "You have led me a dance."
"From my mam?" said the sunburned young man in the hard hat. "Are you sure? She can't read nor write nohow..."
Soren passed him the letter, and he read every word with care, moving his lips silently. When he looked up from it, his eyes were bright. "Thank you, gents," he said. "I been trying to bring her out here, but she won't come. I...I'd like to send an answer, if you don't mind."
"We thought you might," Zander said, opening his briefcase and producing a medium-sized com unit, subtly enhanced with N-band capability on a limited range of frequencies. Its mate proved to be in the care of the widow's next door neighbour, who was persuaded to carry it to the lady's house and summon her from her labours.
Zander and Soren tactfully withdrew while the conversation took place.
"So," Zander said, once they were back aboard the smallship and leaving orbit, "that's it. Four lost goats recovered, one MIA, two AWOL, and six sets of coup files duly recovered or destroyed. Home again, home again, tinkerty-tonk."
"Not quite," Soren reminded him. "There's still Snood to deal with."
"Galen can handle him. He likes bringing ruffians to book."
"Galen can't stop the coup. He might be able to get the lottery stopped, but it's too late for that to make any difference. That would just bring the tipping point closer. He needs us."
"Otslag first, then, to confer, and then--what the frod?"
The smallship rocked as it was struck by repeated weapons fire.
"Hello again, boys," came the voice of Definitely-Not-A-Pirate Jenny. "You have led me a dance."