Snark repair yard...
a few short years go, Rear Admiral Throckmorton would have put the woman he was meeting here, in a prison cell and called it a good day's work.
Anh Cu'ong was a known face in some circles, after all-a smuggler and pirate wanted for crimes against the Rim Worlds Republic, a smuggler of contraband, identified by numerous informants over a thirty year period, at one time on the Star League's 'most wanted' list in no small part for her distressing habit of avoiding capture.
Now, he was floating in a pressurized bubble-shelter looking into the eyes of one of the most elusive criminals in the last fifty years.
She was also, currently, holding a letter of Marque issued by the Kowloonese provisional government, with a warrant of commission.
"Admiral, welcome to Snark." She said. Her accent was clipped with a sharp, precise pronunciation of someone who studied English and was good at it, but didn't speak it at home. "I trust your trip out was uneventful?"
"No significant problems. General DeChevalier said you're the person to talk to about the supply corridor for the 171st." Throckmorton stated. "You know, I hardly believed it, We chased you all over the periphery for years..."
she inclined her head. "you came a long way for work that could be done over correspondence. What does the Star League Navy need with my people?"
"We're prepping an offensive in the direction of the Terran Hegemony." he laid out, "There are some issues with transport of supplies and personnel..."
"You need to hire some shipping then." she shrugged.
"Actually..." he nodded at her pale tan overgarment, at the patch below the left zip-pocket. "I'm looking for routes that aren't likely to be heavily patrolled by member-state navies that aren't committed to the Liberation."
"You're concerned about interference from the Lyrans." she observed, "Which you kind of should be. The Steiners didn't come out on your side."
"No, they didn't. We're getting some back-channel support but..."
She didn't smile. "I understand. Rimjob intelligence doesn't need to do much to mess with your supply lines and the Lyrans aren't going to secure those routes."
"You do understand."
"Of course I do. Ngo led the ground fight, but I've been fighting this war against the Rimjobs since my parents were disappeared in '35. You're looking for a pathfinder's trail into the Terran Hegemony that bypasses most of the observer and traffic control stations, so that your offensive can kick off without the Rimjobs having a nice ambush laid for you. You're also looking for sustainment, and unless I miss my guess, you're laying in for additional cargo shipping to keep your field units supplied...and you're hoping I can talk to The Folk about coming off the fence on your side."
He gestured at the patch on her coverall, "You've got the Pathfinder patch." he said.
"It means I've done some extraordinary things, it doesn't mean I've got juice with the Lines." she stated, "What do we get out of it?"
Throckmorton schooled his face to look confused, because he'd been coached on this by Igor. "What do you want? wood? Cloth? fresh meat? booze?"
She rolled her eyes, "We get those here from the planet." she said, "Try harder. I know about the Mother Doctrine. You're asking for smuggler's routes, that's a confidence, what do you have to offer for trade secrets?"
he reached into his tunic. "This, is technical information." he told her, "Fundamentals not released in the open, basic research, core fundamentals for building or rebuilding an industrial base."
"You'll get your routes." she said, accepting the chip, "IF this is genuine."
