we're serious,
and can back our words with actions. We've got
to replace their image of us as misfits. They've
got to see us as an organized military force that
can defend its vital interests and, if necessary,
impose its will."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I want to use Kumiko's expertise as a weapons
officer familiar with Inner Region ordnance. I want
both of you to board the Sandbox and check all
installed armament that can be directed against
our fleet. Avoid a scrap, but if you find the guns
have not been deactivated, do it for them."

He pointed at Brad to give emphasis to his words.

"I don't want their weapons slipping back into
operational status as soon as you leave their ship.
Whatever it is you do, fix their armament controls
so that it'll take them at least fifteen hours to
get them back on line. We'll need that much time
to finish our job here and return to base."

Scarf joined them, listening.

"I don't like it." His words were angry; his
features petulant.

Drummer looked at Scarf with open scorn.

"Your likes and dislikes are the least of my
concerns," he snorted and turned back to Brad.

Scarf cut back in.

"I repeat, Drummer, I don't like it, and what I
like or don't like is your concern. I'm here on
counter-intelligence work, and I don't like your
sending this guy," thumbing toward Brad, "and
one of his sidekicks over to a UIPS ship on a highly
sensitive assignment. I'm not that trusting they'll
do the job as thoroughly as you're laying it out."

Drummer frowned.

"What do you suggest?"

"That I go along."

Brad stepped back to let the two work it out.
He didn't relish the assignment. The Sandbox's
commander was not going to accept boarders
graciously.

"You go along? What the hell for?"

"To see how the assignment is carried out, and
frankly, to make sure this guy doesn't, shall
we say, inadvertently pass information to
the enemy." After a brief pause, Scarf added,
"I'm within my authority, Drummer. Part of the
counter-intelligence function," adding, with a
smirk, "Don't you agree?"

##

The utility's approach to the cylindrical Sandbox
closed in on the port side. Brad, at the controls,
increased viewer magnification and inspected the
ship closely. Kumiko, looking at the same image,
reached under Brad's arm and adjusted knobs and
levers, zeroing in on one gun turret after another
along the Sandbox's length. She whistled softly.

"They're loaded for bear," sh