Chapter 13 The Tiladore Charter
01
Illy radioed from Port Barque-nela during the second watch wondering if there was any news. I told her things looked promising, could say no more. I heard the gang prompting her with more questions – rather surprisingly since it was early morning and they usually kept rather late hours when downside – threatening to find someone who would. Since the world of tramp shipping on Calissant is small enough, they might actually turn up someone who had noted the ship's new owner before it became a shell company, but that wasn't my problem. I merely advised them to be patient and enjoy their time on the beach while they had it.
After that, I studied Tinlai's Complete Cargo Handling's chapter on stowing suspended animation boxes (sleeper-pods) and spent several hours drawing up a tentative chart for stowing and balancing the Tiladore Cargo. I may have been tempting the Dark Neb, but it kept my mind occupied, while waiting for word on the charter.
The Ghost appeared early in the third watch and hailed the ship.
'Hello 'Star. I've brought a party up to inspect the ship. Sorry about the lack of notice. An inspection is required and we had the time,' said Min.
Astro and Orbit were off like a shot.
'I'd be delighted. Meet you at the port side gangplank.'
I headed for the landing stage smiling. Inspecting the ship is often the penultimate act of signing a new customer. Min's offer to inspect the ship without notice was doubtlessly meant to impress the Tiladore people with our competence. However unprepossessing our exterior was, Miccall and Vinden had lavished credits restoring the interior of the Lost Star to its original elegance as a passenger/cargo liner. It always impresses. Indeed, in three years as a trade inspector, I boarded almost a thousand ships and never found a finer looking, better maintained ship.
I arrived on the landing stage to find Astro and Orbit eagerly awaiting our guests. I knelt down, looked them in their eyes and gave them a stern lecture on behaving themselves – no barking, no jumping, no licking. They cocked their head to indicate they understood and tried to lick my nose to assure me they were on board with the plan. And as the Ghost arrived, I gave them a stern stare to impress upon them the importance of keeping their wits about them.
The Tiladore group consisted of four people, three commission officials and their supercargo, who would be traveling with us to oversee their immigrants and goods in transit.
I'd objected to that requirement. A supercargo in a sleeper-pod who could be animated if necessary would've been preferable, but Min assured me it'd be a condition they'd insist on. Animated passengers increase the risk of piracy. In the old days, when the ship carried passengers and cargo, the passenger section was sealed off from the rest of the ship by solid bulkheads. It had its own crew, galley and environmental services reachable only via its airlock from outside the ship, precautions long since breached.
The dogs surprised me by actually keeping their wits about them and staying on their best behavior, though we quickly left them on the landing stage before they could forget by starting our tour in the engine room where they're not allowed. I'd accompanied Miccall on dozens of these tours, potential customers, new customers and old customers bringing family or friends up to see the ship. Miccall was in his lyrical glory showing off his beloved ship and I made a point to learn his lines and stories. As I showed the Tiladore people around the ship I painted its colorful history in stories and anecdotes, only changing Miccall's first person yarns to third person, Here Captain Miccall once...'
Min attended the three officials while I paid special attention to the supercargo, Miclae Midedow. She was ex-liner cargo master who'd started out in tramp service. She'd an eye for detail and asked a number of technical questions about our equipment and procedures. Having signed aboard in my enthusiastic youth, I'd embraced cross training and fifteen years later, I knew her from bow to stern down to the make and model numbers of the fuel pumps so she didn't stump me.
I stopped in the ship's office to show Midedow my plan to stow the containers with the sleeper- pods and asked for suggestions. She offered several, but seemed satisfied we were attending to the details of the charter.
I'm sure the fit and polish of the engine room, mechanical rooms and bridge impressed Midedow, the restored passenger decks clearly impressed the other Tiladore officials. The captain-owners who'd last fitted her out for a passenger/freight liner had not spared expenses, nor had Miccall and Hawker when they set about restoring her. Above the engineering workshops the utilitarian nature of the ship disappears, the steel bulkheads are hidden behind warm white panels, divided and trimmed by wide dark wood strips. Compartments are generously sized and well-furnished and the open expanse of the awning deck never fails to impress both down-siders and spaceers alike with its sweeping view and size. Miccall and Vinden treated the ship more like a yacht than a tramp ship, and it shows.
I offered refreshments from the bistro, but they were on a schedule so I saw them off with a nod and smile from Miclae Midedow and another from Owner Min as she followed her guests into the Ghost.
I checked Guild records to confirm that Midedow had indeed signed on fifty years ago as a pilot in the tramp trade, moved to liners, spent thirty years working as a cargo master for the TriStar Interstellar Line before signing on with the Tiladore Commission as their supercargo a decade ago. Not that she'd struck me as a pirate, but, what did I know about pirates?
Pirates, though much less common these days, still operate, mostly by placing an agent aboard – either as crew or an animated passenger and ship the rest of the gang as sleepers. During the passage the pirate agent disables or eliminates the crew, poisoning the air or food, revives his or her cohorts in the sleeper-pods and it's off to the deep drifts with the ship and cargo. Three thousand sleeper passengers could easily hide a pirate band, so I needed to know for sure that the one person on board I didn't know, was as reliable.
02
Min stopped up early in the fourth watch, but didn't stay long, content with a brief conversation on the landing stage.
'We were impressed with your tour, Captain. We sign the contract tomorrow. I was confident an impromptu inspection wouldn't knock you out of orbit, but hadn't expected your showmanship.'
'I'm not quite sure that's a compliment, but I've been Miccall's understudy these last few years, and I've given a tour or two this past voyage as well. Miccall always made it a point to have any potential shipper up to see the ship, as shippers connect a well looked after ship, with a well looked after cargo. Which is likely true, and certainly in our case.'
'Well your tour cleared any doubts they may've had about chartering a tramp. I'd like you at the signing tomorrow to answer any last minute questions.'
'Right. Just give me a time and place.'
'It'll be in my office. I'll pick you up on my way down. That'll give you time to follow my first order as owner.'
'Which is?'
'Take yourself down to Star Gate Boulevard and buy a Neb-blasted captain's star for your cap,' and eying me critically, 'And a new uniform, and maybe some other fittings as well. I believe even tramp ship captains are not above looking like captains. At least in the tramp ships I own.'
'Aye, aye.' I said, standing to attention. And we shared a rare, easy smile.
'I'll call before I leave the 'Moon. And one more thing. The new owners of the Silvery Moon are taking delivery this coming Firstday. We've a fair amount of personal gear and provisions that must be removed before. I'm wondering if you could lend a hand to help us clear the ship this Sixthday. We'll just transfer everything to the Lost Star. I'm sure Bar and Say will welcome the provisions – my parents did not stint on flavors and potables.'
'We'll all appreciate it.'
She nodded, adding, 'We, Vyn, Ten and I, can sign on and move aboard. Turns out to be perfect timing, with the sale of the Silvery Moon we'd have been homeless. Plus, it'll also give you a chance to meet and work with Vyn and Ten. I'm sure you'll lik
e them.'
'I'd be delighted.' I assured her. 'When can I tell the rest of the crew about what's in the works? They were asking this morning.'
'When the contract is signed. And they'll need be told of my plans to sail to out of system. Anyone who doesn't want to go, can sign on just to Sanre-tay if they like, since they're unlikely to get a berth out of Calissant any time soon.'
'I'm sure they'll go along. Most of the old gang came out of those systems, anyway.'
'Right. I'll radio you no later than mid-morning tomorrow. Vyn and Ten are waiting for me, so I'll head out. Until tomorrow, Captain. Fair orbits.'
'Fair orbits, Owner Min.'
03
Min had the Ghost screaming down through the clouds Fourthday morning, locked onto the Yacht Club beam. It was another thick day in Primecentra and what little we saw of it was mostly darker shadows against the grey of the day.
She'd given me the address of an establishment on Star Gate specializing in outfitting spaceers not far from the office building housing Min & Co. I knew she wasn't kidding about upgrading the cap and my kit in general, so I had left my cap and old uniform behind and dressed in mufti, determined to look every bit the up and coming tramp ship captain for the signing.
I rode the flier taxi with Min to the roof and leaving her at the 27th floor, proceed down, out and a block over to Star Gate Boulevard. The wide mall was once again sparsely populated. The nearest Port Prime gate was blocks away so there weren't even cheery companions to brighten the dreary scene.
Lorof & Staff has a narrow, unimpressive front on Star Gate, several blocks down. However, like many Star Gate establishments the back rooms stretch on and on, (and on) – a vast, multi-floored and seemingly endless warden of showrooms filled with everything a spaceer might need or might dream of needing. Clothing, gadgets and gear, some beyond the powers of my imagination to identify, overflowed into the narrow aisles, making navigation perilous at times. The clothing alone spread over many floors, from boots to caps, intimates to spacesuits and everything in between was stocked for sale, at the lowest prices in the known universe – but only if you could find it – which for me, meant asking the avatar sales staff for detailed navigational instructions. The dress uniform department is located in the third sub-basement, or so I was assured. I was given detailed directions involving half a dozen landmarks just to find the ramp down by a harried sales avatar. (Turn to port by the engine room tool belt display and starboard just before you reach the catering department, and down the ramp, three turns...) Eventually, after several dead ends and new directions from different sales avatars – but likely the same harried operator – I arrived at my port of call.
Lorof & Staff offers uniforms for every sex, size, rank, employment, environment, style and price. Ship climates and cultures vary as much as the planets their crews come from, so the collection is vast. In addition, they seem to anticipate serving time traveling spaceers as well – offering uniforms in styles that seemed thousands years out of date to others which I can only imagine will be in style a thousand years hence. After wandering about this archipelago of fashion for what seemed like hours, I settled on a nice understated black captain's uniform and a stiff new cap complete with a captain's star badge, plus a few crisp white shirts and couple of pale yellow sweaters just for some color. (I believe I mentioned that we're a cool climate ship.) It was a step or two up in quality from what I had been wearing, though not the equal of Min's. To this I added half a dozen other items for my wardrobe and some gadgets I stumbled upon while wandering lost and decided I needed, until, eventually, running out of hands to carry more, I began my search for the checkout station. Realizing that I was now up against the time of the meeting, I had to cut the bargaining short and closed the deal for at least five credits too much. I changed into my new uniform before I left and hurried to the meeting.
While we were waiting in her office for our clients to arrive, Min gave me a funny look. 'What do you reek of?'
'I reek? I don't reek of anything.'
She waved her hand to clear the air. 'What is that? I know it.'
I put my nose to the sleeve of my new uniform. 'Perhaps you're smelling Lorof & Staff's lingering ambiance. I can get just the faintest whiff of it. But after spending several hours in their emporium, I may've grown accustomed to it. You'll get used to it, it's a very spaceer-ish aroma. Such is the price of glorious peacock of a captain.'
'Peacock? Couldn't you have at least gotten something less than five hundred years out of date? Or are your referring to that canary yellow sweater you've added to your costume?'
I gave her a look of reproach. 'I like this uniform. You certainly can't complain about the color – black – since you wear just black, with a bit of white... And the sweater, well, it just adds the right touch of dash to an otherwise sober and understated uniform...'
'Old and out of date, and, well, very canary like. We're meeting clients and you look and smell like something out... I don't know what...'
'I'm sorry you don't approve. I didn't think you wanted me dressed up like Brilliant Pax. Next time you'll just have to come along to pick out my clothes.'
'Next time I will...'
Kardea knocked and announced the Tiladore Planetary committee, not a minute too soon.
We spent two hours going over the charter contract, each side making certain the other side knew exactly what was expected of them. Min had everything on our side well in hand. The only point I made was insisting Miclae Midedow be the supercargo, no last minute substitute. If she couldn't sail with us, we'd only accept a mutually agreed upon substitute. Min gave me a look, but I explained that for security's sake, I'd have no one aboard my ship that I didn't have complete confidence in, which, I pointed out, was in Tiladore Commission's best interest as well. They signed and we made arrangements to start loading the cargo containing boxes in ten days, with the passengers boxes a week after for a 1st of Second Spring sailing date.
Min took me (and my bundle of treasures, also reeking of Lorof & Staff) out to a Laslion island cuisine restaurant to celebrate. Afterward we boarded a flier at the taxi stand for the hop to the Yacht Club through the misty spring evening.