The co-pilot wearing a clean but well worn Coverall with Tinkers badge with trade fleet embroidery entered Tukkers small but comfortable office on board the refitted Pelican Transport, waiting politely till his chef looked up from his workstation.
Sir, we have just recieved a message over Council transmission frequencies.
Seems our Guests have arrived in Baffin and are underway to Shasta.
Ah, fine. Thank you , Williams.
Tell Rodney to start the ship and fly out to meet them, we will greet them in space and escort them to whatever location the General wishes to inspect first.
Shall I also tell the Steward to prepare a bottle of Champagne and some petit fours , Sir ?
Tukker laughed, shaking his head.
No, Williams.
We are greeting a friend and ally, not some fat oligarchs from Libertys upper classes or a celebrity to-be starlet we wish to embezzle.
The beverages will have to wait till after buisness has been cleared. You can tell Francis to prepare some fine tea and cookies though.
Greet them over the same frequency and tell them we will meet them in space.
The aging trader smiled as he finished his last calculations and checks , secure in the knowledge that his experienced crew would need no supervision.
He was looking forward to meeting the fabled General, like somebody who had been breathing stale station air would look forward to landing on a habitable Planet. The last few weeks had been full of stress and in his experience the Councilmen could perhaps be difficult to handle, but straightforward and honest. Not like all the ViP and Buisness meetings he had been forced to endure the last weeks. And life was getting interesting in the independent systems again, after a long and difficult time.
