Max returned to the Battalion to get them ready for work and waited for the transition alarm to sound.
Everyone was well aware of their role, namely to just wait in the hangars unless they were called upon. Unless things went very wrong, they would not need Mecha for a simple business deal, but caution dictated that they should all be ready to fight from the moment they made contact.
“Miller, how good is the shielding around these bays? Their patrol ships aren’t going to pick up anything strange are they?” Max asked his executive officer.
“Not a thing, sir. Even Abraham Kepler wouldn’t see us in here. Though if we have to land on the planet they might be able to scan through the shielding.” Major Miller replied.
“Good to hear. I will be in the Enduring Rage until further notice.” Max informed him, then hopped up to his Mecha’s knee and climbed the side to get back inside.
[Transition to Maneuvering Speed]
The announcement was followed by an immediate lurch as the ship left faster than light travel, making their entry into the Derrax system.
The hail that came moments later from the defense fleet was broadcast to all the Command units, and Max tuned in to see who they were dealing with.
A balding man with heavily wrinkled ebony skin, wearing a plain gray uniform coat that showed off a well-kept figure appeared on the screen.
Unlike the Kepler military, there were no rank badges, adornments, nothing at all that would indicate from a distance whether this man was important or not. It was almost like they were in battle camouflage, but with freshly polished boots.
Max had been warned in advance that the Derrax people weren’t big on colors or anything frivolous, but he hadn’t expected that it would extend as far as removing all sorts of badges from their military uniforms. Even the Captain’s chair that they could see in the background was bare stainless steel, without so much as a hint of padding on it.
Self-discipline was an admirable trait, but Max was beginning to believe that this had nothing to do with self and that it was something that was forced on the entire culture, whether they liked it or not. There simply wasn’t a better explanation for that level of denial of comfort, especially after knowing about the battle readiness advantages of ergonomic seating.
He wore a name tag that identified him as General Juarez, and a dour look on his face, but no other adornment.
[Unidentified vessel, state your name and purpose in Derrax.] He stated without preamble.
[I am Rage, of the Terminus Trading Company aboard the Dutchman. We have an appointment.] Nico answered simply and the man lifted a tablet into sight.
He tapped the screen a few times, then scrolled through whatever data came up in front of him, with the same impassive look on his face the entire time.
[So you do. Bay W4 of the orbital station. Do not disembark, the process is fully automated.]
After that the communication was cut, leaving Max and the other officers startled by the abrupt nature of their greeting.
It was more than a little bit of a culture shock for Max, who was used to the ritual and formality of Military discipline. Meeting a culture where even their military was that abrupt and emotionless was a disconcerting sight, despite the fact that they didn’t seem to be in any way hostile toward the Dutchman or her crew.
“I think he likes you, their bureaucracy is notorious for messing with trade vessels and wasting their time.” General Yaakov congratulated Nico.
“It’s all in the details. I messaged ahead to make a docking appointment. There’s still no guarantee that they will actually swap the loads in any sort of reasonable time though.” Nico responded with a roll of her mechanical eyes, anticipating a long wait for no good reason.
Admiral, be sure to watch your speed, they are very particular about port speeds.” She continued, bringing the guidelines and intended flight path up on the ship’s main screen for everyone to see.
Nico’s assurances set the other’s minds at ease, and the Dutchman smoothly maneuvered toward their assigned bay. The path had a half loop at the end, turning them so that they were broadside to the station, but the Dutchman didn’t have the lateral thrusters to enter the bay that way. It was too tight of a fit for the large cargo vessel, and wouldn’t leave room for the shipment to be unloaded.
Admiral Drake turned the ship and guided them in slowly using the reverse thrusters so that they were facing the doors and the bay that they were going to unload was closest to the equipment that was waiting in storage lockers along the side of the dock.
That position also pointed their main weapons at the bay door, which closed behind them before the atmosphere was injected back into the area.
Once it stabilized the Admiral opened their cargo bay, and the waiting game began.
Behind Armored glass overlooking the bay, a series of questions were being asked through video link with a very annoyed patrol ship captain.
“Are you sure they are authentic? You didn’t even send for a second opinion.” A bookish officer shouted at the man who had appeared in the video link with the Dutchman.
“The ship code matches the radio. The radio matches the reservation appointment. The encrypted security code matches the shipment documents, and to top it off the representatives are both from Reaver families, you can tell just by looking at them.
Now unload them and get them out of my zone before I bring planetary administration into it.” The Captain countered, looking far more annoyed than a simple questionnaire about a shipment would seem to have called for.
The dock’s unloading equipment began to move seconds later, and the shipment was quickly removed from the hold, then replaced with the aid supplies for the Tapani.
[We are pleased to report your loading process is complete.] A voice announced over the intercom in the bridge of the Dutchman, bringing a smile to the face of everyone in the room.
[Verifying anticipated weight and volumes. Please hold 15 seconds.] Nico replied, and pulled up a camera in the storage area.
The hold was nearly full now with identical rows of neatly stacked air-tight crates, and the scanner on the door had recorded all the labels as they entered. It all looked good to Nico, and the weight checked out, so the boxes weren’t empty. There was no guarantee that the contents were the desired cargo, but that wasn’t their business. They were the transport, opening the cargo was something that was viewed as the height of suspicious behavior.
Nobody wanted their shipment damaged by the crew that brought it to them, so they assumed the risk that the shipper might try to swindle them in exchange for the security of knowing that the sealed boxes hadn’t been tampered with.
[Verification complete. Volume correct, weight within two percent of expected numbers. Loading complete, please clear the bay doors for atmospheric integrity checks.] Nico informed the staffer, who nodded in relief and maneuvered the loading equipment back to storage.
The ship’s doors were sealed and the atmosphere warning in the dock sounded, letting them know the station was preparing to let them exit.
“That was crazy, I’ve never seen a loading dock work that fast. What did you put in the appointment message?” Klinger asked Nico.
“That’s just it, there wasn’t anything in my message other than basic details. My guess is that either the politicians are involved or someone is up for a performance review.” Nico replied with a shrug, just as confused about the situation as Klinger was.
Five minutes later, they were clear to move out and the dock doors opened, letting the Admiral gently maneuver free of the station and out of orbit, preparing for faster than light travel.
The Captain of the patrol ship watched carefully until they disappeared in a flash of light, headed towards Tapani space.
“Feeling better now?” His second in Command asked quietly.
“Much better. You know how Ghost Ships creep me out, and that one was notorious. Half a dozen crews died while exploring it before it finally disappeared. I can’t believe someone was crazy enough to not only go looking for it but to take over its helm.” The Captain responded.
He was much more superstitious than most of his Darrax counterparts, but everyone in the country that was old enough to have seen one knew that the Ghost Ships were taboo and not to be touched.
Aboard the Dutchman, the Pilots of the Terminus Trading Company were just happy to be heading back to civilization. That Derrax Captain was an oddball, and they hadn’t seen a single living person during their time there unless you counted over video.
It was a big change from the Kepler stations which were more like a bazaar, with shops and people everywhere. Very few crews didn’t send at least a few members off the ship at a Kepler station, and this situation ruled out them picking up any fresh supplies or other desired goods, other than what Nico might have put in the pickup order on their behalf if that was even possible.
Max wondered how the Tapani would respond to their arrival. They were waiting on final orders, but the mission was a combat one in a civilized world, so they were bound to meet at least a few other humans. If the Tapani were friendly toward Mercenaries, there was a chance that Max could arrange some sort of trade to get fresh food for the Battalion. They had been on freeze-dried ship rations for far too long now, and he was looking forward to something with the distinct taste of fresh.