"Really?" says Miles, peering at the adhesive on the artificial hairs. "Huh."
Their pod pulls away from the station, revealing the row of docking pockets - empty for a dozen spaces on either side of their first docking site.
"I'll report this incident to the station authorities, shall I, my lords?" says the pilot, reaching for his com controls.
"Wait," says Miles.
"My lord?" The pilot glances over his shoulder with a doubtful expression. "I think we should—"
"Wait till they ask us. After all," he says persuasively, "we're not in the business of cleaning up Cetagandan security's lapses after them, are we? It's their problem."
"Yes, sir," says the pilot, treating the suggestion as an order and thereby depositing all responsibility with Miles, although his brief grin signals that he agrees with the provided reasoning. "Whatever you say, sir."
no subject
Their pod pulls away from the station, revealing the row of docking pockets - empty for a dozen spaces on either side of their first docking site.
"I'll report this incident to the station authorities, shall I, my lords?" says the pilot, reaching for his com controls.
"Wait," says Miles.
"My lord?" The pilot glances over his shoulder with a doubtful expression. "I think we should—"
"Wait till they ask us. After all," he says persuasively, "we're not in the business of cleaning up Cetagandan security's lapses after them, are we? It's their problem."
"Yes, sir," says the pilot, treating the suggestion as an order and thereby depositing all responsibility with Miles, although his brief grin signals that he agrees with the provided reasoning. "Whatever you say, sir."