Junebug nodded sagely and cycled the cargo hatch. The smell of coffee was immediate and powerful, nearly a hundred wooden containers were loaded with pallets of freeze dried coffee beans in 5 kilogram industrial packets of a sort that lower tier reasturants might use. It was stacked to the ceiling and lashed down with thick canvas tie downs and cargo tape.

"We can't shift it," Sayeeda said as she picked her way forward towards the cockpit, "not in any sort of time anyway and we have to pay to store it."

"I had planned to take it to Carver's Reach but I guess that is shot all to hell," she grumbled voice straining slightly as she climbed the ladder. It was late in the season to start a voyage to the Reach. Within days the shifting tide of the rip would close the Reach off from easy navigation for well over a year. It would have been the perfect time to sell a luxury like coffee.

"I guess we will get rid of it somewhere, once we can get a fix on RIP conditions. If we can get a fix." She clicked her safety harness into place.

"Well we can always drink it," Neil said clearly straight faced only by a herculean effort of will.

"Ha," Sayeeda said tonelessly, "Ha. Ha." The comm system chirruped as clearance came in from the automated tower control. The panel blinked with a voice alert from tower control. Sayeeda ignored it. Automated clearence was all they needed. She grinned viciously.

"Light her up."

_________________________________________________________________________

X-792b was a nondescript asteroid in Formax's mid system belt. It was a two by three mile section of compressed iron ferrite with an irregular elliptical spin. Junebug imagined it would have some gravity. X-792b had been mined at some point in the mythic past, but the current regime, or their ancestors, had built a communications station into the ancient tunnels. The only problem was that it wasn't currently communicating. Part of Sayeeda had hoped they could pirate the current RIP data and jump for it but the transmitters were offline. Not just standby or maintenance but physically disconnected. That was beyond strange. Even the usual low powered transmitters and unused microwave transmission heads had proved stubbornly silent.

"Well? What do you think?" Sayeeda asked as the third scan came back with no active transmitters. Her palms itched slightly, which was never a good sign in her unfortunately extensive experience.

"Feel like a night position just before it gets hit," she said, unstrapping herself and reaching for armor. Scans didn't register an atmosphere breach, which she supposed was something.

[@POOHEAD189]