Introductions

 

"Okay Chief! Comms should be up!" Viktor said. "How's the sat doing Sally?" 

"Everything nominal Vic," Sally was on comms for initial contact, as the station would be running its communications through the satellite they'd originally planned to deploy. "Configuring the sat was easier than we thought! Any time, Chief!" Everything was jury rigged but would have to do until proper comms were set up with the newcomers.

The Chief harrrumppfffed and keyed the mic. "This is the ISS to unknown vessel - could you please identify yourselves and your intentions? You are in a great deal of trouble - this is controlled airspace and you just about killed yourselves and us, and wiped out a multibillion dollar facility in the process! What country are you out of? Your presence here is causing a hazard!”

There was a brief burst of static and some garbled truncated voice... and then the newcomers came in loud and clear. "Hey guys!!! Hey - sorry for the scare a couple days back. Our helmsman is a hare lipped redard and can't tell his left from his right at the best of times, and the idea of clockwise vs counterclockwise is beyond him -" in the background, some guffaws and heckling came in over the radio.

The Chief paused, at a total loss for words. He was literally pole axed, with his mouth half open. He looked at his shipmates in total bewilderment. Slowly his face turned a light shade of purple.

" I REPEAT. IDENTIFY YOURSELVES AND STATE YOUR INTENTIONS!" he thundered. "You've violated our airspace, you illegally moored yourselves to this station - MOORED, not docked - and your presence here is causing international tensions that could lead to gunfire unless you can start coming up with answers! WHO is in charge over there?!?!?"

Sally reached over and cut the Chief off and killed the radio. "Chief, there'll be time enough for that. You're no good to us if you have a stroke. Use some diplomacy! Or go lay down and let Vic do the talking."

The Chief pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a migraine. The radio crackled and came to life again."Do we have a boss here, guys?" In the background a discussion broke out. "No we don't! And because Bob is a fucken retard... looks like you're up Pete!" someone said. More chortling and guffaws came in over the speakers. The Chief looked like he was about to explode. Carefully he fought to bring himself back under control.

"Who. Are. You..." he choked.

"You can call me anything you like if you’re a tax collector - but my friends call me Pete," the speaker said. In the background someone called out "Pete The Meat! He can't be beat!" More guffaws and laughter crackled over the speakers.

The astronauts on the ISS tried to stifle smirks and chuckles. The Chief looked like he had gone catatonic. Vic gently cut the radio and nudged him aside. "May I, Chief? You look like you need a BIG drink..."

"Hey guys, Viktor Kuznetsov here, cutting in. Mission Specialist, Systems - glad to meet ya! So - why are you guys out here? What can we help you with? Over."

"Hi Vic!" A number of voices responded in childish unison. " Shaddup you lot! I'm on the damn radio! Be quiet! Pete here again, Vic. Sorry for the noise! And... hey - sorry for scaring everyone and being a pain. We're just a bunch of old farts and we came out here specifically NOT to be a nuisance to anyone… and do what we want without getting hassled by the bureaucrats and scolds back on the ground! Errr... looks like we kinda shat the bed on that one... but we're piddling around with recreational space flight and trying to keep ourselves busy without getting in the way."

Vic sat back, genuinely amused. Sally leaned in over him and keyed the mic. "Hey guys - Sally MacRay here, Payload Specialist - no problem! All's well that ends well, right?'" she lied smoothly. "You'll have to forgive us - we've never met recreational astronauts before. It's a historical first, I guess? That's an odd hobby for anyone. How did you fellas get out here? And why did you moore up with us? We have a TON of questions for you: HOW did you get out here? There's no engines on that thing we can see... WHY are you here - as in here, moored up with us? Over."

Like a gaggle of children, the greeting came back followed by everyone talking at once. "Hi Sally" the happy newcomers called in unison. Again, Pete cranked at his crew. "For the last time - shut your damned gobs! One at a time!!! Can it, you morons!" There was a pause and some further muffled conversations and curses. A loud smack and a grunt of pain was heard. "JEEEEZ...!!!" someone groaned in pain.

Vic made sure the mic was cut. Solemnly he declared "Sally, Chief... I think we're dealing with The Three Stooges..." The Chief got up. "You deal with them them, Vic? I have things to do and need to get some rolaids... and fuck those guys..." .

****

"We don't want to be a pain, you guys... but the reason we wanted to hook up with you is that we *think* we have a revolutionary new propulsion technology and - we'd like to sell it! The problem in our country is that the gubbimint fart suckers will steal it if we try to sell it, and if they don't... their cronies and fart catchers will. We wanted to bypass the bureaucrats, grifters and fart catchers and deal directly with the big players. Ideally we'd like to sell to the Americans. That's the big reason we snuck up on you guys the way we did." Pete said. "We are hoping you might be able to put us in touch with President Trump and/or Elon Musk so that we can do a deal and get out of everyone's hair. Is there any chance you kids could tee up a conference call for us? We have something here that we genuinely think is worth their time - and yours!"

Vic and Sally paused and stared at each other, dumbfounded.  

****

GAB:

****

“Okay guys - word’s in from ground side: were to cooperate with our geriatric friends across the way. The higher ups want proper comms with them too. Vic, Sally and Kenji - you’re up. The Whitehouse wants to talk to these guys as does everyone else. We want audio and visual… and we’ll need to slave it to our systems here. We don’t want these guys talking to Chairman Xi or Putler behind our backs. Any feasibility problems with that, Vic?”

“Not a problem Chief. We have just what you’re looking for in spares, complete with freq hopping and encryption hardware. The only problem might be the lockout…If I’m lucky we can tackle that through the firmware. Gimme about an hour and a half…?”

The Chief nodded. “Good - Sally, Vic… check your suits, and prep ‘em. Looks like you might have to go over there and do an install and social call too. I’ll get them on the blower when everyone’s ready. Are we good to go? Any questions?”

Later that day the ISS got their first view of their new neighbours.

An old man leered out from the monitor screen. “Hey guys! Pleased to meet ya! I’m Pete!” An argument broke out, with the men anll talking ant once - and the camera then focused on the crew. Pete introduced his team from left to right. “So - that big fat mutt on the left is Chains. He’s the Mission Welder, Plumber who has his hands full keeping us and the O2 in, and the vacuum out.. Next over, that obviously retarded cretin is Finless Bob. He invented the propulsion systems and does our piloting and helps out Chains when he has to. Finally… that’s my Dad, Pete Senior. He’s our passenger and Super cargo.”

“Ya forgot someone, Pete.” Chains gestured at something off camera. 

Pete The Meat reached up and brought down a sleeping, curled up orange tabby cat. “Sorry everyone! This is Stinky Pete. We had to bring him along because he doesn’t get along with kids and he bit and scratched the Grandkids.”

The men beamed as the crew of the ISS formally introduced themselves, the women fawned over Stinky Pete, and welcomed them to the ISS as if they were honoured guests. At length, the Chief shooed everyone away and then addressed the old men.

“Okay fellas! Glad we could help you out! The President and his advisors have agreed to a conference call tomorrow at 10:00 am MST. Is there anything else we can do for you before we sign off for the night shift?”

“We’re good sir! And thanks for the assist on the radio equipment! If we ever see any of you groundside - we’d love to buy ya a coffee!”

The Chief signed off and smiled. The old guys didn’t belong out here… but he liked having them around. They weren’t half bad once you got used to them. He worried about their safety.