Several hours later, Jirik sat back and sighed. "Well, that's it. The best course we can plot gives us eight more recal stops, and only five of them are guarded. That leaves us at least three recal points in inhabited but unprotected systems. Anyone have any ideas how we can avoid trouble in those systems?"
Ideas flew thick and fast. One of them would bring up a suggestion, and the others would try to spot its weaknesses, Several more hours and many ideas had passed, and the conversation was running out when Tor hit the jackpot.
"Captain," he cried excitedly, "We've been worrying about avoiding other traffic. What if we made them avoid us?"
Jirik was tired and irritable. "What the hell're you talking about, kid?"
"Well," the young man explained, "I just got to wondering how we could make sure that other ships would stay away from us. What if we activated the Plague Beacon?"
Via snapped straight up in her chair. "Damn, Kid! If we emerge with the Plague Beacon running, We're liable to be blown out of the sky before we can even turn around!"
"Look, Tor," she added in a more patient tone, "Nobody takes any chances with a plague ship. That's why the beacon's there in the first place! A ship with illness on board is supposed to be quarantined. Not allowed to land or dock, nobody comes off or boards until the sickness is over or the crew's dead."
Bran was beginning to see Tor's idea. "Exactly. What's the usual procedure when a plague ship emerges?" He turned to Jirik.
"I wouldn't call it 'usual'" Jirik growled. "It doesn't happen often enough. I've seen it twice, and it's not pretty. When a plague ship emerges, most other traffic scrambles to get well clear, in case the crew tries to disembark, or the ship has to be destroyed, or it self-destructs. Then the Guard, or the Patrol, or some representative of the system government puts picket boats around them to prevent contamination. Usually, the system will try to find out the symptoms, and give medical advice over the comm. But nobody approaches, and nobody disembarks. If they can't raise the crew on the comm, they destroy the ship. If they can raise at least one crewman, they'll usually insist that he jump out of the system or be destroyed, if the doctors can't identify the plague." He grimaced. "Occasionally, though, as Via says, they'll just blast her out of the sky as soon as she emerges. That doesn't happen often, but it has happened. It really pisses off the Alliance or the Empire, though, and any system that does it can suffer some heavy sanctions."
"Wasn't the Pheria system embargoed for five years for that?" Bran inquired.
"Yeah," Jirik replied, "It almost impoverished the system, and the system government was dissolved and reformed. They also set a new smuggling record. Generally, though, spacers honored the embargo. No one likes the idea that they might be blown up without a word if they have a problem."
Via snorted. "A problem! Plagues have destroyed entire systems! Blasting a plague ship is the best way to handle it. You make sure that it can't pass the plague along. Besides, it's not easy to pass a death sentence on someone you've been talking to over the comm."
"Well," Tor asked quietly, "What are the chances that they'd shoot first and ask questions later? What are the odds?"
Jirik looked uncomfortable. "Well, despite Via's opinion, I'd say that the odds are about ninety-ten that they'd quarantine and talk. The biggest risk would be from a jittery picket boat gunner who thought he saw movement near the plague ship. I don't know, kid, maybe your idea would work, but I sure don't like it."
"There's another problem," Bran pointed out. "As soon as we emerged with our plague beacon running, ships would be scattering, spreading the word that the Lass was a plague ship. Even if we could show that nobody was sick, Alpha might not believe us. They might refuse to let us land. That's happened before, too. Ships hounded from system to system, never permitted contact, until their fuel or supplies ran out, and the crew died.
"Wait a minute," Jirik said, "What if we weren't the Lass? We faked our ident beacon before; we could do it again! We aren't the only DIN class ship operating as a trader. The Empire has sold thousands of them over the centuries. When we got to Alpha we could go back to the legal beacon, and no one would be the wiser!"
The discussion dragged on and on. Finally, with Via still dissenting, and Jirik grudgingly acceding, a course of action was decided upon.
"All right," Jirik summed up, "Here's the plan. At our next recal point, if we're not dodging pirates, Bran goes out to see if the dust from the nebula scoured off our name and registration number while Via is recalibrating. If the name and numbers are gone, we modify the ident beacon. When we emerge with the plague beacon running, Via takes over the comm at the command console. She tells them that she's the Astrogator, and all she wants to do is recalibrate and leave, and makes sure to tell them that she hasn't gotten sick. That should relieve some tension."
"I still don't like it, skipper!" Via protested. "I don't like playing games with something like the plague beacon!"
Jirik was sympathetic. "I know. I don't like it either. I feel as though I'm taking advantage of someone, though I'm damned if I know who. But, if we're going to make it to Alpha, I don't know of any other way."
Via spent most of the next two ship-days in her cabin. She was sullen and uncommunicative for most of that time. Evidently, though, her self-imposed exile gave her a chance to think, and weigh options. The jump timer showed some six hours before emergence when she suddenly appeared at Jirik's cabin door.
"I've been thinking, skipper," he announced without preamble "I'm still worried about somebody blowing us to atoms, but since we're going to do it, I think I've got a way to increase our chances, if you want to hear it."
Jirik waved the woman into his cabin. "Tell me about it. I'm in favor of anything that makes this fiasco less risky!"
Via sat down. "Well, if the nebula's dust did scour off our name and registration, at least to where it can't be read, there's no reason that, when we modify the ident beacon, we can't modify it to make us a non-human ship. As you said, thousands of these tubs have been sold, and a lot of them went to nonhuman races."
Jirik nodded. "Yeah, but then how do we explain a human crewman talking on the comm?"
"No problem," Velson replied, "There are a lot of humans serving on alien ships; especially astrogators. Many nonhumans can't handle human-made comps as well as humans can. It wouldn't seem strange. If we claim to be a nonhuman ship, maybe the fear of causing a diplomatic incident would keep some jittery gunner from blowing us out of the sky."
"Yeah!" Jirik exclaimed. "Good idea. That would also help explain why you don't want medical advice from the locals. You could be trying to get the aliens back to their home system before they died! They might think that you were a fool for risking your life for a bunch of aliens, but chances are they wouldn't shoot, as long as you didn't try to disembark, and just wanted to recalibrate and leave. Yeah! I like it!"
Via grunted. "I don't. But it looks like you're going to do this plague beacon thing anyway, and I want to do anything I can to get my furry ass to Alpha in one piece."
Jirik grinned. "Well, we're only going to be trying it three times. With any luck, after the first one, the others will be warned by other ships from the first system, and the danger will be less."
"Maybe," Via said doubtfully, "But I doubt it."
Jirik had no chance to discuss Via's idea with Bran or Tor before they emerged at their next calibration point. Fortunately, the system was deserted, and remained that way while Via recalibrated to their revised course. Bran suited up and went outside to check on the readability of their name and registration number. When he returned, he told them that not only the name and number, but the entire ship's antirad hull coating was gone.