The comm broke in. "This is Nar Shadda Control to unidentified ship. Please transfer your launch authorization codes."
Trychon looked at Tyrrazapon. "You having second thoughts yet, man?" He tried to give him a slight grin.
Tyrrazapon looked back at him. "Yeah... just drop me off as you pass by the next station." He paused then continued. "I don't have a whole lot of choice... but yeah I'm coming along for now. Not doing anything at the moment."
Trychon gave him an ironical smile just as the Comm message came through again. "This is Nar Shadda Control to unidentified ship. Please transfer your launch authorization codes." They sounded just a bit more irritated this time. Trychon kept his smile as he said "I'm glad you're coming along. Take the controls. I'll try to stall the bureaucrats. We'll have to come back for your ship."
Trychon didn't tell him that he was relieved to have an excuse to get away from the piloting. He'd worked enough computers in his time and the basic ideas were simple enough... he was sure he could figure out the controls... but now wasn't the time.
He got on the comm. He raised his voice a half octave. "Control, my captain broadcast our codes minutes ago. What seems to be the problem?"
He glanced over his readings and pointed to a vector for Tyrrazapon to pilot.
The comm came back on a moment later. "Control to unidentified ship, we show no authorization for your transponder 'Jet Razor'.
"Trychon expected this and was ready. He cleared his throat and raised his voice again. "Well, something is certainly wrong then. Check your instruments. This is the 'Fair Maiden' not the 'Jet Blade'."
He was going to get them in trouble... but Tyrrazapon fought back a snicker This is fun. Trychon waved as to say 'Keep going'.
Control came back on. They were certainly not going to take much more of his game. "Sir you need to turn around and head back to dock". Trychon waited until he thought it was nearly too late and responded. "I'm sorry... but is there someone else we could speak to?"
Game over.
"We're dispatching patrol. Turn around now."
Trychon frowned. "Understood, control." He pointed towards a grouping of some of the higher traffic of ingoing and outgoing ships only a bit lower than they were... so they'd be headed down and back... but only slightly down.
"When you get into that grouping, cut thrusters and get under the largest inbound freighter and follow it's belly as close as you can."
Tyrrazapon grimaced and did what he was asked. He was a pretty fair pilot. It wasn't perfect, but it was hardly a duster's maneuver, either. After only a few moments, Trychon pointed at a freighter going the other way coming up on them. "Get under that one now and follow it as long as you can."
Tyrrazapon didn't say a word... he just concentrated on the task given. A small bead of sweat formed on his face.
After a few minutes, they could see the patrol scrambling around trying to find them. 15 minutes later, they heard a broad message to all ships to halt or return to dock. "Well," Trychon mused, "That was about as far as I expected that to get us. Wait until the freighter has come to a full stop and then head out on the nearest vector as quick as you can."
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