FROGPRINCE: We can keep transmitting, Hawk. We can tell Sandman. . . FROGPRINCE: we're sorry he's off his run. His buoy's destroyed. . . FROGPRINCE: . . . He's got to find a new job. . .
UNICORN: They'll be running construction and supply out. I'll apply, too. FROGPRINCE: Use a little damn compassion.
SANDMAN: T_Rex, I'm sure. I was damned careful.
T_REX: You braked.
DUTCHMAN: We both braked.
SANDMAN: I've got those figures in. Even braking, I'm sure of the numbers. T_REX: That's real interesting from where I sit.
FROGPRINCE: T_Rex, where are you?
T_REX: About an hour from impact.
UNICORN: Brake, T_Rex!
SANDMAN: T_Rex, it's 5 meters wide, no tumble.
T_REX: Sandman, did I ever pay you that 52 credits?
Tinman?
Damn. Damn! Fifty-two cred in a Beta downside bar. Fifty-two cred on a tab for dinner and drinks, the last time they'd met. Tinman had said, at the end, that things had gone bad. Crazy Tinman. Big wide grin hadn't been with them that supper. He'd known something was wrong. He'd paid the tab when Tinman's bank account turned up not answering.
The Lenny Wick business. The big crunch that took down no few that had thought Beta was a place to get rich, and it wasn't, and never would be.
SANDMAN: Dutchman, you copy that? T_Rex owes me 52c.
DUTCHMAN: Sandman, we meet on dockside, I owe you a drink. . . DUTCHMAN: . . . for the warning.
Dutchman didn't pick up on it. Or didn't want to, having fingers anywhere on the Lenny Wick account not being popular with the cops. Easy for Pell to say it was all illegal. Pell residents didn't have a clue how it was on Beta Station payroll. Didn't know how rare jobs were, that weren't. The big score. The way out. Unicorns by the shipload fell into that well. And a few canny Tinmen got caught trying to skirt it just close enough to catch a few of the bennies before it all imploded. SANDMAN: I copy that, T_Rex. If you owe me money. . .
SANDMAN: . . . get out of there.
T_REX: Going to be busy for a few minutes.
UNICORN: T_Rex, we love you.
T_REX: Flattery, flattery, Unicorn. I know your heart's. . .
DUTCHMAN: You take care, T_Rex.
T_REX: . . . for FrogPrince. (((Poof.)))
UNICORN: He's vanished.
LOVER18: This isn't a damn sim, Unicorn.
UNICORN: :(
FROGPRINCE: T_Rex, can we help you?
UNICORN: Don't distract him, Froggy. He's figuring.
Good guess, that was. Sandman called up the system chart-the buoys produced it, together, constantly talking, over a time lag of hours; but theirs wasn't accurate anymore. The whole Pell System chart was out of date now, because their buoy wasn't talking anymore. The other buoys hadn't missed it yet, and Pell wouldn't know it for hours, but the information wasn't updating, and the source he had right now wasn't Buoy 17 anymore.
They all had numbers on that chart. But the cyberchat never admitted who was Sandman and who was Unicorn. It never had mattered.
They all knew who Sandman was, now. He'd transmitted his chart number. He could look down the line and figure that Dutchman, most recently near that juggernaut's path, was 80018. He drew his line on the flat-chart and knew where T_Rex was, and saw what his azimuth was, and saw the arrow that was his flatchart heading and rate.
He made the chart advance.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
SANDMAN: I've run the chart, T_Rex. Brake to nadir. . .
SANDMAN: . . . Best bet.
The cyberflow had stopped for a moment. Utterly stopped. Then:
UNICORN: I've run the chart, too, T_Rex. If you can brake now, please do it. SANDMAN: I second Unicorn.
What the hell size operations had Tinman signed on to? A little light miner that could skitter to a new heading?
Some fat company supply ship, like BettyB, that would slog its 7 lower only over half a critical hour?
SANDMAN: T_Rex, Dutchman, I'm dumping my cargo. . .
SANDMAN: . . . I'm going after him.
HAWK29: BetaControl's going to have a cat.
UNICORN: Shut up, Hawk. I'm going, too.
SANDMAN: T_Rex, if you can't brake in time, have you got a pod? . . . SANDMAN: . . . I'm coming after you. Go to the pod if you've got one. . . SANDMAN: . . . Use a suit if not. Never mind the ETA. . .
SANDMAN: . . . I'll get there in time.
FROGPRINCE: Sandman, go.
SANDMAN: I'm going to full burn, hard as I can. . .
SANDMAN: . . . Right down that line.
Button pushes. One after the other. Hatches open, all down BettyB's side. Shove to starboard. Shove to port. Shove to nadir. Sandman held to the counter, then buckled in fast as the scope erupted with little blips.
T_REX: It's coming. I've got it on the scope. Going to full burn. . . T_REX: . . . It's not getting past me.
FROGPRINCE: T_Rex, that thing's a ship-killer. You can't. . .
FROGPRINCE: . . . deflect it. Get away from the console.
FROGPRINCE: T_Rex, time to ditch! Listen to Sandman.
T_REX: Accelerating to 2.3. Intercept.
UNICORN: T_Rex, you're crazy.
T_REX: I'm not crazy, lady. I'm a friggin ore-hauler. . .
T_REX: . . . with a full bay.
FROGPRINCE: You'll scatter like a can of marbles.
T_REX: Nope. She's coming too close and she's cloaked. . .
T_REX: . . . If station can't spot her, she can take out a freighter. . . T_REX: . . . Going to burn that surface off so they can see. . . T_REX: . . . that mother coming.
T_REX: (( Poof))
UNICORN: Not funny, T_Rex.
Sandman pushed the button. BettyBshoved hard, hard, hard.
SANDMAN: I'm on my way, T_Rex. Get out of there.
WILLWISP: I'm still here. Relaying.
CRAZYCHARLIE: I'm coming after you, Sandman, you and him.
SANDMAN: By the time I get there, I'll he much less mass. . .