Chapter 14
Amongst the quiet folds of transitional space, the José Fabuloso lay in shambles. Every access panel hung ajar, all of the drawers in all of the compartments were open, even a fair number of non-critical control consoles were partially disconnected. Heaps of laundry and bedding were stacked in the corridors, the food all piled high in a stack and all the spare parts were in rows of grocery bags.
The crew sat despondently in the middle of the mess. “It's got to be a case of mistaken identity,” said M'Elise. “There is no hidden treasure on this ship.”
“Except for my lovely wife, of course” sniggered O'Riley. Squirrel glared at him from the espresso machine. It had been pulled away from the wall but not disconnected.
“Take it from a man with bitter matrimonial experience,” said the old man, “don't bait the missus after she's undergone a 3rd degree panty inspection.”
“But there were no ants in her pants” said José. O'Riley sniggered again.
Squirrel served M'Elise and the old man espresso, pointedly skipping José and O'Riley. “What about whoever had this ship before us?” she asked.
“Dunno. Looked new. Practically had plastic wrap on the seats. I just assumed that it was being delivered to some rich idiot,” said M'Elise.
“It's new alright,” said O'Riley. “The engine can't have gone through more than a few transitions. The spares are all factory issued as well.”
“So why was a new ship in the police yard?” asked Squirrel.
“Good question,” said M'Elise. They sat and thought about it for a while.
“Maybe they got caught speeding,” said José.
“Being rather a lead foot yourself,” said O'Riley, “and having quite the collection of tickets, have you ever had a ship impounded?”
“No once!” said José proudly.
“So would you not think that would rule out a traffic violation?”
“Oh, said José.
“Maybe it was stolen before we stole it,” said Squirrel. “They did some sort of heist but got caught. They broke out when Port Newark got blown and have been hunting us since. Only the cops found whatever it was that they stashed here and we don't have it”. She beamed.
“I like a girl with imagination,” said O'Riley.
“Truth is often stranger than fiction,” said the old man.
“So you think we should just let them search the ship so they don't follow us anymore?” asked José.
“OK, uh,” started Squirrel. “I don't know. They could be a little angry.”
After some time M'Elise rubbed her face. “Ultimately crime is like any other trade: it is a question of profit and loss.” She got up and put her espresso cup in the sink. She looked thoughtfully at the machine, but decided otherwise. “The bigger a pain in the ass we are to track down the more it cuts into their margin. Eventually it won't be worth it for them and they'll stop.”
The old man did a half cough and half laugh. “If anyone in this galaxy could do that I'm sure this is the crew for it.
“Fabuloso!” cheered José to everyone else's sleepy stares.
It took most of the rest of the transition to get the ship back in order. O'Riley came up with new and novel ways to organize his spare parts while M'Elise struggled getting the control panels on the bridge back into working order without too many parts left over. Squirrel took José and the old man in hand and directed them in the general restoration of order to the galley and guest room. Nearly as much time was spent haranguing them to work as was spent actually working.
“The central board wobbles” said José to M'Elise as they ran through the post transition checks.
“Sorry about that” she said. “I'll check it later if it’s nothing big. Maybe it's one of those round flat rubbery things.” She peered into a jar containing a dozen or so extra bits she was unable to find homes for.
“It's OK” said José rocking the panel back and forth.
“Go easy on #12,” said O'Riley's voice from engineering. “I only patched the gimbal before and haven't been able to find the spare since we re-organized.”
“I thought you changed the spares to just the way you liked them” asked Squirrel.
“Enough lip,” said O'Riley tartly. “Just because they are the way I like them doesn't mean that I can always put my finger on each little washer.”
“I will just keeping turning left,” said José. “Wow! That's a big ship.” A rather large blip appeared on his scanner. “I bet I can run left rings around it.” He sped towards it.
“Um, José,” said M'Elise after scanning the system roster. “That's an Ashoka Class Frigate. Maybe we should leave it alone.”
“Too late,” said Squirrel. “It's hailing us. It's the 'Arun's Spear', attached to the local Naval base. They're asking for our transit logs and cargo manifest. Is there some legal way out of it?”
M'Elise considered. “We could file a 5273, or maybe a 61/67, but you would have to fake being pregnant. That's the problem with the military: the only way to avoid doing what they want looks very suspicious. Tell them we'll gather the information and comply.”
“But the logs will show us and those two Junks back there. Won't that raise questions?”
“Yes it will. Hopefully more for them than for us. We don't have to supply communication transcripts. We didn't do anything illegal. So they may scratch their heads for a while.”
“OK. If you say so. Ready to send when you are.”
José throttled back and M'Elise did some quick editing. Shortly she had a data packet to send to them and not long after that they had a return query.
“That was fast,” said M'Elise. “Put them on.”
Squirrel did so. “Arun's Spear to José Fabuloso. Your license states you are a cargo/passenger ship. Is this correct?”
M'Elise nodded and Squirrel broadcast. “José Fabuloso to Arun's Spear. Yes. We are a cargo/passenger ship.”
“Your manifest indicates that you have neither passenger nor cargo on board. Can you explain?”
Squirrel checked twice that she had the microphone off. “They got us there.”
“Piece of cake.” M'Elise held out her hand for the mic from Squirrel. “Arun's Spear, this is the Fabuloso's exec here. We accepted a premier shipment from Mérida to Tungkoey. Once there we were unable to secure a passenger who was able to afford our luxury services or, as they specialize in bulk ore, a low mass cargo of high enough value to be worth diverting to another world with high passenger potential. So we're running empty on the speculation of good prospects in Grenoble.”
She switched off. Squirrel nodded. “I'm impressed. You didn't even lie.”
“Honesty is the best policy” said M'Elise. “It's just not always a viable one.”
“Arun's Spear. Thank you for your answer, José Fabuloso. We have no further questions at this time. Please follow system traffic control directions to your berth. Have a nice stay on Grenoble.”
“We're clear!” said M'Elise enthusiastically. “You heard them José. Take us in. But take it easy, OK? Leave this slot blank in your traffic ticket collection.”
“Maybe a parking violation?”
“Sure. Be a bad boy. Go for it.”
Halfway to dock, system scan reported two additional ships inbound. “Great,” said Squirrel. “It's those junks. Like a wet hair you just can't unstick from your hand.”
M'Elise smiled. “Just wait. Monitor the military band.”
“Whoa, they are being hailed by the frigate.” M'Elise nodded. “They're asking them for their transit logs and cargo manifests. Same as us.”
“Now you get to find out what happens when you don't cooperate with the military.”
“They're claiming to be transient.”
“Not a bad one. Reduces their options though.”
“Now the military is requesting an inspection.”
“They'll refuse. They can. It just looks bad.”
“They are. Oh, ha ha, get this: Arun's Spea
r is sending a launch to escort them during their stay in orbit here.”
M'Elise laughed. “Looks like we won't have to worry about them for now.” She pulled up the orbital's information on the screen. “Book us an external berth. In case they do manage to land I'd rather they had to deal with vacuum if they decide to do an external examination.”
“OK,” said Squirrel. “How long are we staying?”
M'Elise flicked through a few more screens. “Thirty six hours. That's the next outbound convoy. To Fort Wellington. Not an ideal amount of time to look for a good cargo, but I'm sure we can scam something.”
“What about passengers?”
“Probably not, but we might as well look. When you're done booking a berth log an advert for passage. Use what we ran at Mount Royale as a template. Run it by me before launching.”
“Wouldn't it be easier if you just did it yourself?” said Squirrel with slight irritation.
“Much,” commented M'Elise dryly. “But you are only a few hours short of a provisional qualification in commo. The more you get in before Wellington the better chance we have of getting you that piece of virtual paper that makes us all look more legit.”
“Oh,” said Squirrel, mollified. “I am totally one with the radio. I'll talk up a storm!”
She proceeded to do so as José brought them in. He had enlarged the scale on his navigational guides to the point where the slightest deviation had enormous visual impact. He jumped and jerked around in his chair, narrowly missing the guide wires by a hair's breadth. But nothing was felt on the ship.
“Thank the spirits” said O'Riley's voice, startling them all. He was standing in the doorway watching José's board. “The engines are barely running above a whisper. I thought I would come up and check in to make sure no one was dead.”
“It's OK” said José, riding his trim with infinitesimal precision. “It helps me keep my edge.”
“Whatever floats your boat.” O'Riley continued to loiter about watching people's screens. “Good prospects?”
“Not bad. Some selections of small mass, high value produce. Reasonably marketable. Not great margins, but not bad in most ports.” She swiveled the monitor.
“Chocolate?” he asked. She nodded.
“Chocolate!” said Squirrel, interrupting her transmission. “Seriously? I love chocolate!”
“Fine” said M'Elise. “No shore leave for you. You get duty.” She continued over Squirrel's protests, “We need a buyer. If you like the stuff, do the rounds, eat enough free samples to make you sick and pick up a few palettes for the hold.”
“Oooh”” said Squirrel with enthusiasm “That's duty I won't complain about. Wow.”
“Riley, no leave for you either” M'Elise continued. “I want you to go with her. Our favorite twin Junks Tedium and Tedious might be stuck in orbit, but depending on how wide their conspiracy is, they might have friends in port.”
“It's alright,” said O'Riley. “I'll happily escort the lovely escort.”
“Just keep him away from the chocolate liqueurs” cautioned M'Elise.
“What about me?” asked José.
“You can drink as many as you like. You've got leave. Take your elderly son with you and see if he needs more laxatives or something.”
“You aren't coming?” asked Squirrel. “I can cut it short and cover for you if you want.”
“Thanks but no” said M'Elise, shaking her head. “I'll stay with the ship. I don't like chocolate anyway.”
“What?!?” said Squirrel.
“Our little freak,” said O'Riley, tousling M'Elise's hair. “No chocolate, hardly a drop of drink, and she won't let drugs anywhere near this ship. You would swear she hadn't heard they've abolished lent.”
“Give it a rest, Riley” said M'Elise, knocking his hand away.
“No chocolate? Seriously?” asked Squirrel incredulously. “How do you survive PMS?”
M'Elise sighed.
M'Elise sat alone on the ship. Docking was routine and without José's habitual violations she did not have any paperwork to do. She composed several ads and sent them to Wellington in early departing ships. She scanned schedule information, hoping a profitable match would reveal itself. One of the names leapt out at her.
“I'll be audited.” The Rich Kingford was due to dock in Wellington shortly before they arrived. The name did not bring back happy memories. That period of her life had been a radical rollercoaster of emotions. There had been the joy of the academy and, at last, finding something she could excel at. Then to have her work invalidated by the rampant cheating of her classmates. Then, getting assigned to the Rich Kingford. The Botany Bay Company was just about the only line her parents had ever heard of. They were terribly impressed and, perhaps for the first time in her life, proud of her. It was easy to believe that someone had seen beyond the inflated grades to a person with real potential. However, as the duty prep charts began to arrive it became more and clearer that they hadn't and she was signing up to be a deckhand. But her parents were so into it and she didn't want to lose that rare favor. So she signed on, hoping she could prove herself once on board.
But the universe is not a fair place. There's no cosmic balance sheet ensuring people's ill fortune is matched by good fortune. The ship's crew was a seething mass of power plays and pecking orders. A large line like the Botany Bay Company can only produce a consistent experience for its customers by highly regulating its service. High regulation breeds contempt as all of the common sense is removed from decision making. The people who do well are those who can follow the letter of the law, look good on paper, and trigger all of the correct flags in the corporate machine to get the bonuses and promotions.
M'Elise realized she had been holding her espresso cup with a death's grip. She tossed the cold liquid into the bin and flexed her hands. She looked over at José's console and wondered if she would tell him about the Rich Kingford.
He had been happy there. Perhaps alone of the entire crew. He didn't really know the regulations nor have much view of the pecking order, being on the bottom of it. He just did what he was told and was happy doing it. She'd heard of him, most often as the butt of jokes. How he had been sent looking for air for the airlock, or to deliver an extra large mouthwash bottle to the exec, or some other misdemeanor. In a moment of weakness she had transferred some unpleasant shift work to him. Verbally, of course. That way she still got the credit for it when it got logged into the duty roster. But she felt bad about it later and went to relieve him. She found him happily struggling to get her work, his work, and duty that three others had dumped on him done. She was incensed. Almost as much with herself as with the others.
It was a watershed event for her. She hated the ship, hated the politics, but had embraced it and tried to make it her own, since it was the key to success. But now she saw what she would have to become to do that and she hated herself for that. It was not how she saw herself. And if that was who she had to be to be successful, she'd rather be a failure. And with this resolve she pitched in and helped José finish his shift.
After they were done, she bought him dinner and drew out of him all the details of the other shifts he had worked for other people. She logged them all into the roster as shift transfers (since he gave her his password) and the resulting bonus got him awarded 'crewmate of the week'. It also got him beat up by some of those who had dumped work on him and were now behind in their hours. So she made sure that he logged that too with the infirmary and that got them disciplined.
She smiled briefly at the recollection of bureaucracy over brawn. They left him alone after that. At least physically. They restrained themselves to the myriad ways to make someone's life miserable and still keep to the regs. She then shared the bottommost position on the pecking order with him. It sucked, but she felt better about herself.