MacFife could remain quiet no longer. "Yes, mister. And that's no' the end o' it. We will collect the salvage fee. One half the value of the salvaged vessel. Aye! My men will like that, since we share and share alike on salvage. Now put out a cable from your nose tube. I'll take ye in tow first."
He cut the communicator off, and met Rip's grin.
The two spacemen had figured out the one way to repay the Connie for his attempts on the asteroid. They couldn't fire on him, but they could fake an "accident" that would cripple him and cost Consops millions of dollars in salvage fees.
Nor would Consops refuse to pay. Salvage law was clear. Whoever performed the salvage was not required to turn the ship back to its owners until the fee had been paid, in whatever currency he cared to specify.
And there was another angle. The cruisers would tow the Connie into the Federation spaceport in New Mexico. If past experience was any indication, the Connie would lose about half its crew—perhaps more. They would claim sanctuary in the Federation.
Rip shook hands solemnly with the grinning Scotchman. It would be a long time before Consops tried space piracy again.
"We'll be back at our family fight again tomorrow," MacFife said, "but today we celebrate together. Ah, lad, this is pure joy to me. I've had a score[pg 238] to settle with yon Connies for years. Now I've done it."
He put an arm around Rip's shoulders. "While I'm in a givin' mood, which is not the way of us Scots, is there anything ye'd like?"
Rip could think of only one thing. "A hot shower. For me and my men. And will you take the prisoners off our hands?"
"Yes to both. Anything else?"