Hostile legacy, p.21
Hostile Legacy, page 21
part #2 of Afterwar Saga Series
“You know where there’s an abandoned Series Three and you want to trade that information for Bandit and a couple of guns,” I said. “Do you even know the shape of this derelict? Has it been salvaged? Does it have operational engines? Why was it abandoned? Who’s looking for it?”
“Yes. That’s the trade,” he said.
“How about we fetch this freighter for you and bring it back to Paradise Station? In return, you find us those weapons,” I said.
“I’m disappointed. You haven’t done your research,” he said. “An operational Series Three in the worst condition is worth a minimum of two million credits. You’re trying to start a freighting business with a long-range shuttle. I admire your spunk but you’re digging ditches with a spoon. At some point, you will exhaust the available small jobs and your business will founder. Unless you believe you can earn your keep as a racing team, you need this deal.”
“You didn’t answer my question. What about us bringing the ship back for you?”
“No dice. The previous owners would take offense. It would draw the wrong kind of attention.”
“Which is a good reason for us to not be involved.”
“You can’t have it all, Mr. Hoffen,” he said. “You want to avoid what you describe as dirty jobs, yet you would have me procure highly illegal weapons. I offer a legitimate trade with a legal salvage operation, and you scoff. Grow up already. This is the real world and I tire of this conversation.”
One thing I don’t love about my ability to read people is that anger is communicated more effectively than other emotions. Turnigy was indeed angry with the turn of the conversation. I tried to access a ship trading exchange but whatever field he’d erected around us prevented data exchange. Raised eyebrows showed that he’d been notified of my attempt and with pursed lips, he nodded.
I scanned the ships available in Tipperary that were similar to or exact matches for the Series Three General Astrodynamics freighter. Prices were all over the place and were not only impacted by the condition of the vessel, but even more by the age and capability of the deep space powerplants. At the top end, a newer Series Three with top-of-the-line power could fetch forty million. At the bottom, a million and a half, although that was for one that was inoperable. I switched the scan to ships like Bandit and found prices between two and four million credits.
“You’re asking for a lot on faith,” I said. “We don’t trust each other. Good faith doesn’t exist between us.”
“Talk to me about conditions, then,” he said, striking a surprisingly conciliatory tone. It was a masterful pivot. He’d flipped the tables on me. It was now up to me to come up with an exchange that would trade Bandit and give us his derelict.
“I need to talk to my team,” I said. “They’re making a delivery and will be back on station in ninety minutes, give or take.”
“They’re on approach to the pier on Level-13,” he said. “You have an hour.” He stood and walked away.
It was such a quick change of events that I felt off balance as full communications were restored. Reviewing messages, I found that the drop-off was complete and Bandit was headed to Paradise Station. I pushed my way out of the booth and walked briskly from The Racetrack.
Only one level from where Turnigy had said they’d land, I took a stairwell, jogging down the dirty metal stair treads. Exiting to Level-13, I caught Bandit’s familiar outline as Addy piloted her to a pier two hundred meters extended from the station. With gravity at 0.4g, I chewed up the distance at a loping run that had me covering several meters in each stride.
“I see you,” Addy announced over comms when I was about halfway out on the pier.
“How’d it go?” Cassius asked a few moments later after I transitioned through the airlock.
The four of us stood in the small crew area that we’d called home since arriving in the Tipperary system. I felt a nostalgia for the ship that belonged to my family and was at some level, one of the last vestiges of our connection to home.
Olivia had some inkling of where the conversation was headed and gestured to a chair. “We should sit. You have something you need to discuss.”
“Turnigy has a proposal,” I said. “It’s a tough pill to swallow.”
“Tell us,” Olivia said.
So I did.
“I bet that Series Three is a piece of crap,” Cassius said. “If it was nice, someone would have gone back for it. Nobody leaves a twenty million credit ship out in nowhere.”
“According to Turnigy, the people who have claim to the ship don’t know where it’s at,” I said. “He doesn’t want his name associated with the salvage because it would cause him trouble.”
“It feels like we’re missing the headline there,” Addy said. “Why would we look for trouble Turnigy doesn’t want?”
“As Turnigy has pointed out several times, we’re asking for illegal weapons. We’re not getting out of this cleanly.”
“Are you certain they’ll work against the Noctisid?” Cassius asked.
“No, but we know for sure that blaster bolts don’t work.”
“And you’d give up Bandit,” he said, looking more at Olivia than me.
“Bandit is a thing. A possession,” she said. “I would give everything I own to head off the danger that comes from the Noctisid. So would you if you could feel what I do.”
Cassius whistled lowly. “That’s tough to imagine. Without Bandit we don’t have a way to survive. I don’t know if you’ve looked around, but people on Curie are broke. Without our shipping business, without Bandit, we’re homeless.”
“It’s not like we wouldn’t have a ship,” Addy said. “I thought you’d be all over a bigger freighter, Cass.”
“I’m not arguing against that. It’s like Quinn said when he explained the deal. We just don’t know enough about this Series Three’s condition to be trading off something as valuable as Bandit.”
“Let’s work through this,” I said. “The first question is if we’re willing to get involved in a salvage operation with an unknown prior owner. Especially one that Blaid Turnigy doesn’t want to mess with.”
“There are treaties about salvage rights. Wherever the ship is flagged has some sway,” Cassius said. “If it’s been out there for more than a couple of months, there aren’t many widely recognized sovereign states that support claims beyond that. Get to a year and that’s done.”
“Let’s assume more than a year,” I said.
“How do you make a salvage claim?” Addy asked. “Do you have to bring it back to a port under the flag’s control?”
“No,” Cassius said. “It’s a little squishy. Mostly, you record where the ship was found, and send a transponder signature and a title claim. From what I’ve picked up in the last few minutes, most of the time the claim goes unanswered. Curie’s protectorate, if that’s where we’d rehome it, sends an officer to inspect it. Cost is a hundred credit processing fee.”
“I hate giving up Bandit,” Addy said. “But to make it work, all the major systems need to be operational. We don’t have money for expensive repairs. There also has to be room enough for six crew to be comfortable. I’m not doing the hot bunk-sharing routine again. As much as I love our time together, Quinn, it’s a tight squeeze and I need my sleep.”
“We’ll need to list the major systems and what we mean by operational,” I said. “Turnigy is slippery.”
“That’s not hard,” Addy said.
“Cassius, what are you thinking?”
“I’ll struggle to look past the fact that it has a giant hold, at least compared to Bandit. Some of the mass-to-grav lift ratios are hard on fuel because the Series Threes were built primarily for deep space deliveries and didn’t focus on escaping planetary gravity wells. That feels nit-picky, though. I agree with Addy. Major systems must be operational and the ship needs to hold atmosphere. If it’s too roached out, you could be giving up half a million credits in value. That wouldn’t feel too good.”
“That’s value we can’t easily extract in the timeframes we care about,” Olivia said hotly. “Money isn’t important. This mission is what’s important. I’m exhausted by all these delays!”
I’d been waiting for Olivia’s frustration with the conversation to surface. In her mind, racing, trading, and even negotiating with Turnigy were unimportant. She was on a mission to get up close and personal with a deadly alien. It finally boiled over.
The room grew quiet as nobody wanted to step in front of the freight train hurtling toward us. I let us sit for a minute. I hated making quick decisions but then I’d always known it was up to me to get this figured out.
“I’ll take all that back to Turnigy,” I said. “It has to be operational and flagged to a sovereignty that acknowledges we’re within our rights to salvage it.”
“What about whatever’s aboard?” Cassius asked. “We have to turn over the cargo or at least advertise we’ve recovered it and allow for it to be claimed. We can charge a fee for its recovery.”
“There will be some gotchas,” I said. “It’s in the nature of the man we’re dealing with. There’s no room for I told you so later on. We can deal with the Aninos instead, but I don’t think it’s worth it. Turnigy is the devil we know.”
“I’m in,” Addy said. “We’ll take our lumps gracefully.”
“Me too,” Cassius said.
I dared a glance at Olivia. She was upset with herself for boiling over, but impatience still simmered under the surface. “Come on, Liv, you know as well as I do, nothing happens in the timeframe we need it to. We’re doing the best we can.”
She nodded her head quickly and diverted her gaze. “It’s just … things are happening. We don’t have as much time as I once thought.”
“Can you put a number on it?”
“Days.”
I nodded. Generally, things related to Iskstar didn’t happen in hours and days, they happened over months and years. It was go-time.
“Do you want company?” Addy asked when I stood.
“No. Any other time, but Turnigy is a bad man. I don’t want you near him.”
“That’s a little sexist, don’t you think?”
“Probably.”
The lunch crowd at The Racetrack had thinned by the time I returned, and I had no trouble finding Turnigy. He waved me over to his booth, where he turned up his eavesdropping protections.
“Feel better after checking in with your handlers?” he asked snidely.
“Is that necessary?”
“You’re right. My apologies. What’d you come up with?”
“Weapons and ammunition on delivery. The following systems must be operational or are to be fixed at your cost,” I said, flicking a list of systems to him. “Credits for repairs are to be transferred on delivery. The vessel must be considered salvageable by whatever sovereignty it is flagged to. We keep the cargo and dispose of it legally.”
“My representative will accompany you and will be given first access to the vessel. Accordingly, my representative will be allowed to offboard two kilograms of material which you will not have the luxury of inspecting. As this material will be considered personal property, it will not cause you any issues with Curie Protectorate, if it should come to that.”
“Deal.”
21
CROSSED
“Where is this ship?” I asked, worried that since I hadn’t gotten better details, the Series Three would be out of reach.
“My representative will bring that information with him,” Turnigy said.
“I need a distance, so we can plan for fuel, atmo, water, and supplies.”
“Nine days round trip,” he said.
I sighed. Nine days would be hard to sell to Olivia.
“What burn schedule?” I asked.
“I’m not willing to pay for anything more than Class D,” he said.
“Have your man at the pier in an hour,” I said. “And make sure you have those weapons ready in four days. We’re on a schedule.”
“I do not understand why you must always be in such a hurry,” he said. “I will have Julian at your ship in two hours. The guns will be here when you return. I make good on my promises. It is how I have stayed alive this long.”
I stood. We were not friends, and I was done. We’d made a deal and I felt dirty. I rationalized that it could have been worse, but it didn’t change the fact that I’d dealt with an unscrupulous man who was risking my crew.
“Cass, we need to load up on fuel and supplies for five for a week,” I said. “Addy, look at whatever isn’t bolted down in Bandit that we’re taking with us. Liv, hang on, we’ve got a deal and we’re going as quickly as we can.”
“Tell me our fifth isn’t Turnigy,” Cassius said. “Or tell me it is. I can probably come up with entertainment.”
“No Cass. Not Turnigy,” I said.
“Divert to the chandlery,” Cassius said. “They won’t deliver on a tight timeframe, but you can borrow their grav-cart.”
A chandler is just a provisioner which specializes in supplies for space-going vessels. Cassius liked to be in charge of our orders, which tended to be significantly smaller than larger crewed vessels. I arrived at the warehouse before our order was pulled and had a rare moment to relax. Vendors often had samples available for testing and I found myself presented with a bevy of free, high-quality snack choices.
Forty minutes later, I was pushing a loaded grav-cart onto the commercial pier and out to where Bandit rested, likely her last time in my possession. She’d served us well. I’d miss her. At least, unlike my dad, I hadn’t needed a new ship because I ruined the one I’d been riding in. Now, if I could avoid septic problems on the freighter, I’d have truly accomplished something.
It didn’t take much to unload the chandler’s packages and by the time I’d returned the cart and made it back, a slim man stood outside Bandit, looking like he was about to request entry.
“Are you Turnigy’s man, Julian?” I asked.
“I’m my own man, but I’m Julian all the same,” he said, his face pinching as he looked me over.
Oh, joy, he’d be a real pip to have aboard.
“Bandit’s a small vessel and we’ll be tight,” I said. “Do you have any personal items you’d like to load?”
“The bag,” he said, dryly pointing at a bag sitting next to him on the deck.
“You’ll stow it in the hold.” I unlocked the airlock and gestured for him to precede me. He did so without taking his bag. I waited for him to process through the lock and then followed behind.
“My bag?” he asked, noticing I wasn’t carrying it.
“We’re ready to depart, Julian. We’ll need the coordinates and drift vector of our target.” I ignored his demand.
“I’ll need my bag.”
“I feel like we’ve gotten off to a poor start,” I said. “Welcome to Bandit. I’m Quinn Hoffen, the captain. Your only purpose for being here is to provide coordinates to the vessel we’re salvaging. In the event we accept that the salvage has met our criteria, you’ll take possession of this ship. Until then, you’ll lose the attitude, or you’ll spend the first leg of the journey trussed up in the hold. Tell me if you’ve become lost in the conversation.”
The man’s head snapped back like I’d punched him. “You … you can’t talk to me like that. I’m …”
“You’re a guest on my ship. I’m not sure what Turnigy said to you, and I don’t care. I believe I successfully communicated my expectations.” I took his elbow and led him to the airlock. “Grab your bag. Don’t grab your bag. If you come back on the ship, you’ll do so with an appropriate attitude.”
“That was a little heavy-handed, don’t you think?” Olivia asked once Julian was outside.
“What, do you think he’ll tell Turnigy on me?”
“He’s doing that exact thing, right now,” she said, pointing at the video panel that showed him talking animatedly.
“Good. I’ve taken enough crap from Turnigy today. I’m not riding in cramped quarters with an officious stuffed shirt for the next few days,” I said.
A light showed that Turnigy was trying to establish comms. “This is Hoffen,” I answered.
“Julian says you threw him off the ship.”
“Does he tattle often?”
“Don’t be difficult.”
“Nothing difficult here,” I said. “Tell him to lose the attitude and we’ll get along famously. The ship transfers hands once we inspect the Series Three, not before. He needs to respect the hierarchy while aboard. We’ll treat him right once he figures that out.”
I heard resignation in Turnigy’s voice when he responded. “I’ll talk to him. Please don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.”
“I ordered ice cream for the trip. We were planning to share.”
Turnigy cut comms. A couple of minutes later, Julian was at the door, requesting permission to enter the airlock, which I’d locked behind him.
“You must be Turnigy’s man,” I said. “Welcome aboard.”
A more somber, but less confrontational Julian entered Bandit carrying a bag over his shoulder. He flicked a data packet at me like someone might unload a pesky booger when they thought they weren’t being watched. I accepted the data packet to my system and had my AI scrub it for potential malware. It was clean.
“We eat three meals a day,” Cassius said, leading him to the hold to stow his bag. “Coffee is limited to fifteen grams per twenty-four hours unless you’re actively taking watch. Bunk three is yours alone.”
I lost track of the conversation as Addy and I loaded into the cockpit and set course to the given coordinates and drift vector.
“What are the odds the freighter is still out there?” Addy asked. “This feels like a shot in the dark. And I’m sketched out about this Julian character. I don’t think Turnigy is being square with you.”
