“So what’s the plan?” Walsh asked as he walked into his boss’s familiar office. It was more familiar than his own.
Visible as a semi-solid apparition on the desk holo that Arfus now allowed him to view, Ambassador O’Bien said from a cozy looking nook somewhere on the planet, “Admiral Eats has called some marauder captains to form a perimeter around the area so the Shadowstar doesn’t get reinforcements from other mutated, aggressive Taslamin that might be within range.”
“Good,” Walsh said. “I hope this plan involves disabling their weapons and getting out of here with Pandora research info you’ve gotten from Taslamin.”
“More or less,” O’Bien said. “I’m still working out the compensation details for the Taslamin and Poids.
Arfus spoke up. “I’ve arranged with Admiral Eats for him and me to join a party of Sixers on Heracles so we can dock and board the Shadowstar. The Poid ship will keep Shadowstar’s crew distracted until we destroy their weapons. We’ll then board through a break we’ve formed in the exterior. We’ll find their intel on the Pandora infectious DNA and bring it back to Chiron.”
Walsh looked somewhat relieved. “Ok,” the Captain said. “Bold plan. Suitably so, under the circumstances. I’ll pilot another fighter for backup.”
Alarmed, O’Bien said, “Captain, we need you on Chiron. It’s a dangerous mission.”
“Ma’am,” Walsh said drily, “in case you forgot, Arfus is in command, and doing a bang-up job.”
“But –”
Walsh shook his head firmly. “But I remember you agreed you wouldn’t give operational orders to my crew. Right now, I’m crew.”
O’Bien wrinkled her brow with exasperation. “I did say that.”
“I’d better gear up,” Walsh said, heading to the lockers.
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