The Aprahanti ships are a small fragment of the Death to Vermin extermination fleets. These are stragglers still on their way to Sjandra Kei!" All dressed up for a massacre, and no place to go. "So now they want some action of their own." "Yes. Apparently Sjandra Kei put up some resistance and there were some escapes. The commander of this fleetlet thinks he can intercept some of these -- if he can get prompt repairs." "What kind of extortion is really possible? Could these twenty ships destroy RIP?" "No. It's the reputation of the greater force these ships are part of -- and the great killing at Sjandra Kei. So Saint Rihndell is very timid with them, and what they need for repairs is the same class of regrowth agent that we need. We really are in competition with them for Rihndell's business." Blueshell's fronds slapped together,
mbt sandals for men, the sort of "go get'em" enthusiasm he displayed when a hot deal was remembered. "But it turns out we have something Saint Rihndell really,
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复件 (68) air max2, really wants, something he'll even risk tricking the Aprahanti to get." He paused dramatically. Pham thought back over the things they had offered the RIPers. Lord, not the low zone ultrawave gear. "Okay, I'll bite. What do we have to give'em?" "A set of flamed trellises,
mbt m walk orange! Hah hah." "Huh?" Pham remembered the name from the list of odds and ends the Skroderiders had scrounged up. "What's a 'flamed trellis'?" Blueshell poked a frond into his satchel and extended something stubby and black to Pham: an irregular solid, about forty centimeters by fifteen, smooth to the touch. For all its size, it didn't mass more than a couple of grams. An artfully smoothed ... cinder. Pham's curiosity triumphed over greater concerns: "But what's it good for?" Blueshell dithered. After a moment, Greenstalk said a little shyly, "There are theories. It's pure carbon,
复件 (3) 复件 air max, a fractal polymer. We know it's very common in Transcendent cargoes. We think it's used as packing material for some kinds of sentient property." "Or perhaps the excrement of such property," Blueshell buzz-muttered. "Ah, but that's not important. What is, is that occasional races in the Middle Beyond prize them. And why that? Again, we don't know. Saint Rihndell's folk are certainly not the final user. The Tusk-legs are far too sensible to be ordinary trellis customers. So. We have three hundred of these wonderful things ... more than enough to overcome Saint Rihndell's fears of the Aprahanti." While Pham had been away with Ravna, Saint Rihndell had come up with a plan. Applying the regrowth agent would be too obvious in the same harbor with the Aprahanti ships. Besides, the chief Butterfly had demanded the OOB move out. Saint Rihndell had a small harbor about sixteen million klicks around the RIP system. The move was even plausible, for it happened that there was a Skroderider terrane in the Harmonious Repose system -- and currently it was just a few hundred kilometers from Rihndell's second harbor. They would rendezvous with the tusk-legs, exchanging repairs for two hundred seventeen flamed trellises. And if the trellises were perfectly matched, Rihndell promised to throw in an agrav refit. After the Fall of Relay,
mbt for women, that would be very welcome.... Hunh. Ol' Blueshell just never stopped wheeling and dealing. The OOB slipped free of its moorings and carefully drifted up from the ring plane. Tiptoe-ing out. Pham kept a close watch on the EM and ultrawave windows. But there were no target-locking emanations from the Aprahanti vessels, nothing more than casual radar contact. No one followed. Little OOB and its "potted plants" were beneath the notice of the great warriors.
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