The Jester was still docked with New Detroit station, and Captain Cameron Valentine Marshall was in his private office just astern of the bridge contemplating the report being given by his long time friend and Executive Officer, Gandu Mkaba.
"... And I can't see how it would be possible to replace the defective lines without expending significantly from our reserve capital. We have little choice but to pay hard cash for them; the only merchant who has SPC lines compatible with our systems is refusing to extend us credit." Gandu concluded. Cameron was rubbing his temples with his thumbs, trying to massage some of the tension out of his scalp. The last thing he wanted to do was spend any more of his hard cash for a problem he thought he had already solved.
The Jester had been laid down in '27 and was more than five decades old now; but the engineers at the New Halifax shipyards in the Sol system had designed the toughest hulls in space, with over 90 percent of their hulls in Jester's age category still in use somewhere. NHI-312B salvage/transport ships were generally thought to be the toughest; combining massive amounts of power with their extremely high deep space endurance, making them ideal privateer ships. He had - for years - been putting away his corporate bonuses, along with a large chunk of his regular pay, in an effort to bankroll his own cargo ship; when one of his superiors called him to say that the company was going to be auctioning off a block of its fully amortised and depreciated assets - including several ships. He wasn't sure if any of the ships were what he wanted at first, but after checking them out from bow to stern while they were laid up for some final maintenance, he decided on one with absolute certainty. The only issue had been money, and he hadn't had enough of it. He might have put a down payment on a smaller ship than the one he had in mind, but everything he could scrape together on his own had fallen short. He had gone looking for every last favour he could call in, but in the end it still wasn't enough. He had called his boss back to say thanks for the tip, but the dream of privateering would have to wait another couple of years at least. The return message had floored him completely: 'Cam, pick your ship, and we'll see to it that it stays off the auction block. The company will help arrange your financing on very generous terms if you'll work on contract for any of our salvage claims over the next five years.' He'd taken possession of Lot#DG781A within the month, and had it re-registered as 'The Jester' the same day. The company had done right by him, and while he wouldn't exactly call it a gift, the financing terms had been better than he could ever arranged on his own. His five-year contract had kept him and his crew busy, doing what amounted to trash runs getting the company's damaged and derelict spacecraft back - either running or to the breakers for scrap.
Those early days of doing corporate trash runs were looking pretty good right now. "Where do we stand on everything else? Fuel, life support, supplies for the galley, and the like?" Cameron asked, as he pulled his hands away from his face to look directly at his XO.
"We are ready to go: The bunkers are full to the brim, our galley is supplied with everything we need for a long term deployment - including the additional emergency ration packs you requested, our life support system is certified for a minimum full-time operational cycle of 12 months, every system has been checked and re-checked, spare parts have been laid in, and all of our auxiliary craft have new inspection tags. We even have full ammo bins on the main guns; all we need is new SPC lines for them." He gave the Captain a sly grin and added, "Oh, and of course there is the issue of new hires on the dock. I did a preliminary screening, and there are about two dozen or so with potential."
Cameron gave a disgusted sounding sigh and asked, "How much potential?" He truly did not want to have to deal with hiring new people, but he realized that New Detroit was the best place to do so, and his reputation for giving his crew solid pay and a decent bonus structure, along with a fairly generous benefits package, meant that he could be choosy about who joined his crew. He knew that they needed more hands; but this next job was long term, and most newbies lasted long enough to get to a new world and jump ship, with little more in their pockets than their last paycheck. All of which meant that he would have to be more involved in selecting crew than normal, and he wished he didn't have to. It was his preference to let Gandu handle hiring and dismissals, while he settled accounts and lined up work, but a long term job with the potential payoff of the one he had decided to undertake this time required greater personal involvement on his part and there didn't seem to be any way of shaking it.
"I would say that three of them will probably stay with us, regardless of how the new job goes." He cocked an eyebrow in an unspoken question, but there was no further explanation forthcoming. "We might get a dozen in all, but if the job doesn't pan out the way you hope it will, then our reputation might suffer. Unless you are willing to go into the red to pay bonuses up front..." Gandu let the unasked question trail off when he saw the look of disapproval on his Captain's face. "Other than that, all I can suggest is that you be honest with them about the risks: Big bonuses for success, basic pay and a good record if we fail. The old hands will stick by you whatever happens, but you know as well as anyone that if you make promises, and can't keep them, then the good rep that gets us work is gone."
Cameron knew everything he'd just heard was true and he had already decided to do pretty much everything his XO had recommended, but it was nice to see that Gandu was on the same wavelength. Not that any of it was genius level thinking, just good people skills. He grabbed his shipcom badge from its slot on his desk and punched a code in. "Dirk" he said in an authoritative voice, "find me replacement SPC lines, whatever it takes, just get them. Preferably, for no more than what we paid last time. Understood?" He and Gandu smiled at the delay in response, which usually meant he was cursing in a variety of languages.
Dirk's "Aye aye, Captain!" came back over the com with crisp military precision, leaving Cameron feeling better for having dumped the problem in someone else's lap. This gave him the mental breathing space to deal with his more pressing crew issues. He looked back at Gandu before speaking again, "OK, get the applicants on the deck at 0800, and I'll talk to them in a group before we start interviews, maybe we can thin out some of the green and less than committed, before we start making headway. I truly hope that we can get a few people with experience, did your preliminary screening happen to catch any old hands or able spacers?"
Gandu had always shied away from his boss' desire to take on 'old hands'; men and women who had worked on ships without being officially rated in a specialty, usually as dependents of spacers, sometimes just chronic wanderers with training in a wide variety of fields useful enough on board a starship to allow them to 'work their passage' and maybe put some money in their pockets when the ship hit its next port. "One old hand, two able spacers, and at least five new ratings looking for a berth, as well as eleven or twelve who might make passable cargo handlers and janitorial crew. Oh, there are two who want to take passage, and are willing to pay for it."
"Passengers? Willing to pay for a berth on a salvage ship? Please tell me you checked with USPF and local law enforcement before agreeing to anything." The last thing he wanted was to find out these so-called passengers were wanted on a local warrant or by the UniSys Criminal Court; that would be a great way to get himself blacklisted from ever docking at New Detroit again, and if that happened he might as well sell the Jester and quit. Being blacklisted was worse than death for a ship owner, especially here, where virtually every ship in the populated sphere called in at some point. Privateers like him could pick up contracts for transportation of goods, and in his case get information from a network of fellow privateers that led to potentially huge salvage claims. And he wanted this happy state of affairs to continue.
"Yes, I checked," said Gandu looking somewhat aggrieved, "they have no local warrants, and aside from a friendly warning from the USPF office not to gamble with the one named Rolland, they are not persons of interest to the Untied Systems either."
"Then why would they want to ship out with us? They would be a lot more comfortable on a regular liner, as opposed to a working ship. I just don't get it, but if they have hard currency, then I really don't care, but you have to admit that it's a bit strange." Cameron had taken on passengers in the past, but they tended to be people who couldn't afford the rather high prices most starliners charged for a decent berth, or just wanted to get there fast; since no 'liner could match the Jester's FTL speeds. He had ferried a few USPF agents between systems, when they were in hot pursuit of a fugitive, for just that reason; and they knew he'd do it again in a heartbeat, since a USPF agent could authorise him to use faster insystem speeds than would normally be allowed. He had gotten some nice early delivery bonuses during one such incident, and the USPF had gone to bat for him when the authorities on New Jerusalem had wanted to impound his ship and arrest him. They even paid for the ride without much complaint or delay.
"I admit it seems unusual, but the gentleman who contacted me said that he was traveling with a private nurse. He apparently suffers from a rare type of emphysema which requires constant care. He also said that starliners are crowded and slow, both things he was eager to avoid." Gandu finished with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
Well, I can't say that I don't agree with that," Cameron replied with considerable feeling, "Let's take a look at those applications..."
No comments:
Post a Comment