*
So the fourth beer which Hesperus was obliged to supply barely registered as an imposition. When a man finds himself adrift in a boundless ocean of inconvenience, why complain when another teaspoonful is tipped over his head? Besides, the Asp pilots and the Rapier’s two crewmen were proving to be decent company, and seemed to hold Hesperus in some regard.
“Well, Hesperus, the Dubious Profit might not be the prettiest ship I’ve ever seen, but you handle her well. I’m just glad you left us enough pirates to make our trip worthwhile!” Ander, captain of the Olympus – the Rapier’s callsign: the two Asps were named Pavonis and Ascraeus – raised his glass to Hesperus before taking a long appreciative swallow.
“Yes, indeed! You get some good action out of that old boat,” added Perren, pilot of the Ascraeus, and the other two humans nodded, smiling.
Ander drew a pack of slim Rizalan cheroots from his breast pocket, and offered one to Hesperus.
“Oh … ah … thank you,” said Hesperus, taking one and savouring its delicate scent. He licked the tip and shook it, and it flared into life. He settled back into his chair, sipped his beer, and pulled cool spicy smoke into his lungs. He could feel his fur smoothing out, losing the electric bristling it had acquired during his conversation with Tulka’s agent.
Quedly, the Olympus’s co-pilot, leaned forwards. “So, where do you think might be your next port of call?”
Hesperus was beginning to enjoy himself. The cheroot was excellent, and the beer was adequate and pleasingly inexpensive. How nice it was to be appreciated, he thought. Here were compliments, and a genuine interest in his plans, instead of acerbic comments and carking complaints.
“Now? Now the Profit is bound for Teen, once we have cleared a few formalities with our cargo.”
Quedly whistled. “That was pretty fast! We haven’t even got a buyer for our junk yet. You waste no time, Captain!”
“Time is money, gentlemen. Fortune favours the … swift.”
“Will you be fully laden, Captain?” said Ander.
Hesperus twitched an ear. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, we’re a bit low on cargo space. Pavonis and Ascraeus, they don’t have cargo bays at all, and the Olympus can only stow twenty-seven tons at a stretch. We often have to leave perfectly good salvage unclaimed. It’s a problem.” Ander frowned. “But maybe, well, if you’re interested, we could tag along with you – at least as far as Te’en? Any extra space you have inside the Profit, you could take on board anything we couldn’t fit. And when we sell it we’ll split the proceeds fifty-fifty. Half for the four of us, and half for you and your crew.”
Hesperus took a long pull on his cheroot: too long. He coughed and spluttered, his eyes watering. He gulped at his beer, sucked in a wheezing gasp of air.
“Ah, do excuse me … that’s an, ah, an interesting suggestion.” Very interesting. With Tulka’s eighty tons of machinery on board the Dubious Profit still had thirty-five tons empty. The route to Teen was a mixed bag, to say the least, but with a squadron of bounty hunters accompanying him it shouldn’t pose any great difficulty. At worst, he was getting a powerful escort for free. At best … Hesperus’s mind ran through the calculations. In a dozen jumps he might reasonably hope to fill those spare thirty-five tons at least twice over. Fill them with salvage, every gram of it clear profit. This was a moment to make a leap.
“Well, ah, Mr Ander, I think I might be able to accommodate you,” he said. “The Profit currently has some thirty-five tons available. Would that be suitable?”
Ander grinned. “It’s more than double what we can stow just now,” he said, sticking out a hand. “Captain Hesperus, we have a deal.”