They had one idea—to surrender. "Somebody, you, captain, go bang on that personnel port," Rutledge urged.
"Never! Death before dishonor!"
"Hey! They're sending out a flag," Chong said.
The tender's personnel valves were ajar and between them a white cloth dangled.
"I'll go in and parley," Captain Welnicki said crisply. "Deploy and cover me, sergeant. If they try to overpower me, blast us all down."
Sgt. Chong snorted nervously. The captain walked toward the ship ... lonely, gallant ... ashes of defeat ... guile now.... The ramp poked out and a lanky figure, bearing the flag, descended. It was Cobb.
"Cobb! What happened? Did they—"
"General Cobb to you, cap'n. General of the Army of Fishdollar Five. I come out to take your surrender."
The captain stared.
"President Fishdollar says tell you we'll treat you real good if the marines'll help with the settlement. If so be you've a mind to, the foreign minister will work out a Patrol treaty."