Chapter 02 The Belbania Affair
The Belbania Affair can be said to have begun with the receipt of a radio-packet from Min & Co. ordering us to remain in Belbania orbit pending the arrival of another of the late Captain Vinden's ships, the Comet King. No explanation offered.
Normally extra days in Belbania orbit would've been welcomed – not that we ever clear Belbania in a great hurry. Nobody hurries on Belbania. It's a soft world, mostly warm seas speckled with green islands complete with white beaches, lush volcanic peaks, friendly, easygoing and often naked people. But I was up against delivery deadlines. And times aren't normal. And the lack of explanation left me uneasy. And I couldn't shake the feeling I should've missed that radio-packet and left Belbania orbit as soon as the last lighter cleared.
The Comet King arrived two days later and I drifted down to the ship's landing stage to await the arrival of her captain, Zelbe Jann. Azminn, our sun, faintly haloed in dust and gas, hung low over the vivid blue and white arc of Belbania, flooding the landing stage in ruddy light through the clearsteel hull as I restlessly paced, occasionally glancing at the Comet King, a bright silver dagger in the marbled night sky three kilometers off.
I'd only two theories why we here held – neither explained the knot in my gut. Theory one was that I was to be superseded as captain by Jann's first mate, Seni Shir, who, rumor had it, was the leading candidate to replace Miccall. Though my acting appointment was slated to end upon our return to Calissant, if the managers of the Night Hawk Line wanted to reward Shir with a captain's appointment, now was the time – before the Ministry of Death paid us off. For the last 175 days I'd been looking forward to reverting back to first mate, but could that knot be saying I'd miss being captain now?
My second theory was even more innocent – Jann found himself with a few containers for Pinelea and Calissant and hoped to avoid the beach by handing them off to me. I'd be happy to accommodate him. The Lost Star had fifty-two containers for Pinelea and Calissant so we couldn't avoid that particular fate. Doing Jann a favor would cost me nothing. But again, why the uneasy?
Glancing across to the Comet King, I caught the spark of the gig pulling away from the ship and paused to watch its flight. There was the brief flare of the gig's main rockets, a flash of light as the gig was flipped and the flare of the main rockets once more to decelerate. Jann was in a hurry – steering rockets alone would've sufficed for three kilometers.
I took a final turn around the landing stage. Astro and Orbit, the ship's dogs, paced me. They're both standard-issue spaceship mutts, tall and thin and equipped with magnetic implants in their paws to keep them anchored on the deck in free fall. They've been aboard the Lost Star longer than I and had developed a strange ability to sense when company was coming. They'd been waiting on the landing stage when I arrived and were far more excited by the prospect of Jann than I was. As the gig loomed close, maneuvering to align with the extended gangplank, they started barking and bounding about, threatening to lose all contact with the deck. I pressed my hands down on their backs to keep them attached. You don't want excited dogs floating about.
Jann aligned the gig's hatch with the gangplank's capture lock and made contact. The articulated tube curved a full meter, springs creaking as it absorbed the boat's excess velocity.
Neb, that annoyed me. Any pilot worth a pile of drift dust can match speeds finer than that. Jann could, but never bothered – always in too much of a hurry. Ram you, damn you, is his style. I took a breath and reminded myself to stay pleasant and diplomatic.
The safety door on my end of the gangplank slid open and the dogs bounded eagerly forward on the thrust of an incidental paw on the gangplank deck. I followed them with greater restraint. At the far end, the air lock opened and Jann swung out, planting his magnetic bio-controlled boots on the deck, and stood to take the charge of the hounds.
When no one followed him out, the knot in my gut untangled a little.
Jann's a Jornvanian, a heavy worlder, with a large square framed body that a century in space has left lank and loose, but still imposing. He sports a trim black beard with fierce eyes deep set under dark bushy eyebrows. Neither in looks, nor in fact, is he a fellow to trifle with.
'Down lads! And I don't need your kisses!' Jann commanded as Astro and Orbit eagerly bounced about him. He greeted the dogs with rough affection and extending his large hand to me, booming, 'Great to see you again Wil... pardon me, Captain Litang.'
'Welcome aboard Captain Jann. It's good to see you again, as well,' I said, shaking his hand. 'Wil is fine.'
'No it's Captain Litang. We need to talk captain to captain.'
'In that case, let's go up to the office,' I replied, indicating access well and stairs at the far end of the landing.
I felt a dart of joy. Seni may have dodged a comet, being a first mate in space might be better than being an unemployed captain on the beach – I'd likely find out – but I was still captain, and to my surprise, I was happy.
Reaching the access well, we jumped start up the well shaft. The dogs bounded up the steep stairs that wrap around two sides of the well. They're hapless in the access well. When the whim strikes them – as it occasionally does, Neb knows why – they inevitable end up as frantically flaying derelicts barking for a tow.
Grabbing a pole as we reached the top, we swung out and planted our magnetic soles on to the bridge deck. I waved Jann into the ship's office across the companionway, followed him in, chased the dogs out and slid the door-panel closed. 'Grab a seat and take a load off your soles,' I said, slipping around the desk. I wanted to be on the captain's side of the desk if (or likely when) thrust came to blast.
Chairs in free fall are not strictly necessary but standing anchored to the deck on one's magnetic soles for long conversations is wearisome. Floating has its place, (honeymoons in orbit are quite popular) but can be awkward and undignified. So even in free fall, parking your trouser seat magnets on chair is still the most natural way to relax.
'Can I offer you a drink?' I asked as he settled into one of the chairs. 'A globe of Ysent rum?' A Jann favorite.
'Thanks, but business first. I take it you received the radio-packet from Min & Co ordering you to wait on my arrival?'
'Aye, I'm still here though I'm up against delivery contracts,' I replied with a slightly bitter laugh, adding, 'And without explanation, I might add.'
'We thought it best for me to deliver that explanation in person. Radio-packets can be lost, misinterpreted or ignored,' he remarked giving me a wink. 'I trust you've read the trade advisories and analysis Min & Co has been sending out.'
'Aye. Not that they matter. I can't avoid Calissant and the beach.'
'Well Captain, we've a plan to help you avoid the beach. Tallith Min, Pilot and Purser's daughter is back and now in charge of Min & Co. I've been in contact with her. Together we've devised a plan we hope will save the Lost Star from being paid off and keep the Night Hawk Line operating while Vinden's estate is sorted out.'
'Sounds very encouraging,' I assured him, trying to keep my sudden wariness out of my voice. 'What's the plan?' And what lay behind his obviously rehearsed sell? He certainly didn't need one merely to hand over half a dozen boxes...
'As you can imagine, the Ministry of Death has neither the expertise nor interest in running tramp ships.'
'That's clear enough.'
'Moreover, the Ministry has only started the process of cataloging Hawker Vinden's holdings, so the details of the distribution haven't been released. Given the tangled web of cross-ownership and the shell companies our Calissant tramp ship owners love, the process will likely take many months. The key issue is that any losses incurred by the shipping line comes out of the assets of the estate, possibly reducing the inheritance of the legatees who do not inherit the ships. Given the Ministry's duty to protect the interests of all the legatees you can see why, with shipping prospects so dismal, the Ministry is laying up Captain Hawker's ships as they arrive home...'
/> I nodded. 'Makes sense – assuming the ships will operate at a loss.' Which, I must admit, was a discouragingly likely assumption.
'Exactly! Tallith Min believes she can use that logic to keep profitable ships running,' he continued enthusiastically. 'If a ship is making a profit, those profits and future profits should benefit all the legatees. Plus, taking profitable ships out of service, dispersing crews and abandoning customers will make it much harder for the eventual legatees of the ships to get the Night Hawk Line up and running again when the estate is cleared.' He paused and gave me a measuring stare before continuing, 'Of course, for this line of reasoning to work, you need ships showing a profit, which is where the Lost Star comes in...'
'But certainly not all of the other five ships they've laid up were in the red?' I didn't think it was simply a matter of profit. Convenience had to have something to do with it.
'Their profits hardly covered the expenses of paying them off and laying them up. Plus, those ships were laid up prior to Tallith Min's return. However competent Kardea is at managing Min & Co, she wasn't in a position to question Ministry's orders. As the firm's owner, Tallith Min is willing to challenge the Ministry to keep a profitable ship sailing.'
'That sounds encouraging.' Still something still did not chart right. 'We kept ahead of the collapse outbound. I should show a respectable profit for this voyage.'
For the last half century, the Lost Star has operated almost like a scheduled cargo liner, circling the Azminn system twice each year, calling on twenty some planets serving over a hundred regular shippers. The outbound cargo had been normal, only the inbound ones were reduced. Jann's Comet King operates as a pure tramp running cargoes within the Sanre-tay, Rigtania and Pinelea sectors. If he'd been careful, he'd not been caught with too many Pinelea/Calissant containers in his hold before it became clear what the Ministry of Death's policy was.
But had he been careless, or caught unaware? I was beginning to wonder...
'Tallith Min is quite pleased with your performance, and she believes the Lost Star will make a strong case with the Ministry,' he said, watching me closely.
'Not that we've a choice. Or do we?'
He ignored that. 'We also need to keep the remaining Night Hawk Line ships operating in the Sanre-tay and Rigtania sectors where there's still cargoes to be had. With only four ships in operation, we can ill afford to send even one on to Calissant to establish the precedent. Our priority is keeping the remaining ships operating out of the Ministry's rather limited oversight.'
'Yes, I can see that. And I'd be happy to take a couple in-bound boxes off your hands as we've done in the past,' I said, to cut his sell short. 'I don't need to be sold on the idea.'
'Excellent. We're ready to start the transfer immediately,' he said, but without the relief he should've shown if it was really a clear course.
'How many inbound boxes do you have for me?' The real issue.
'Forty-seven. Min has already cleared it with the shippers and completed the documentation for the transfer. As the operation will take some time, the sooner we get at it, the sooner you're on your way.'
'Forty-seven! Why I've only fifty-two myself!' I exclaimed, thinking rapidly. 'I'd been happy to take half a dozen as a we've done in the past, but you've nearly as many on board as I have. That's a star of a different color. No wonder I wasn't included on your plans. Sorry, you can't just shift those boxes to me. We need to agree on a fairer solution.'
I'm a cautious fellow. But with my appointment ending on Calissant, and the Lost Star likely being paid off as well – plan or no plan – I didn't have much in the way of future prospects to worry about. The Comet King could go on to Calissant just as readily as we could, and that made all the difference. I've not been a first mate for five years without learning something about the business of running a tramp ship.
'It's not a favor. It's an order, Litang,' Jann said, his forbidding face growing more dangerous. 'The reason you're going in is that with Fen Miccall's passing, I'm the line's most senior Captain, its commodore. At the risk of sounding vain, without Captains Vinden and Miccall the line needs someone with my experience at the helm. I intend to make sure the Night Hawk Line continues to operate and you'll do your part, which is to take my boxes on to Calissant.'
'The Lost Star is the line's senior ship and Captains Cringtin and ZaTarn are perfectly competent to carry on. As for being commodore, well, you can call captains' meetings to order, but it doesn't give you the lift to order us about.'
'I'll not engage in petty personal attacks, Litang, and I'd expected better from you,' he shot back, adding, 'The line has been good to you. A ship's captain after only – how many years with the company?'
'Fifteen years...' I admitted.
'A ship's captain after only fifteen years. And by Neb, it's only fifteen years in space, isn't it?
'I was a lighter pilot for five years and a Trade Control pilot for three before signing on the Lost Star...'
He dismissed my in-system experience with a wave of his hand. 'Hawker and Fen where very generous to you and showed a great deal of trust appointing you acting captain. But now, when asked to repay that trust, to be loyal to their memory and shipping line, you rear up and protest. This isn't about me, Litang. It’s about protecting their legacy. And it's about following orders whether you like them or not,' he said, ending with a fierce glare.
'Captain Miccall also taught me how to be a tramp ship's captain. I know what's required of me and I'm afraid I must respectfully decline to proceed with this scheme as proposed.'
'You're required to follow these orders...' he flared.
I shook my head. 'I think not.'
The “Night Hawk Line” existed only in Captain Hawker Vinden's mind. As the majority owner of the nine tramp ships, he operated his ships co-cooperatively as a “line” though in fact, each ship was set up as a separate company. (Several, in fact.) The Lost Star and Comet King are two distinct companies. Min & Co. may oversee our operations but I'm the operating officer of the Lost Star and only needed to concern myself with the Lost Star. Loyalty cuts both ways, they hadn't consulted me, so blast Jann's cant of loyalty.
I continued, 'I am responsible to my owner, which, at this point is the Ministry of Probate. I've received neither authorization nor instructions from the Ministry, nor from Min & Co to take on your cargo...'
'I can show you the radio-packets from Tallith Min confirming the orders to transfer my cargo to the Lost Star.'
'Oh, I believe you. But, I've no orders. Now as a general rule I'm quite prepared to follow instructions from Min & Co without such formality, but not in this case. I don't need your cargo for Min's plan to work. And while I see the clear advantage of only one of us going on to Calissant, I don't see any reason why it has to be me.'
'I'll have Min send you orders to that effect.'
'I'm afraid I'm rather pressed for time.' And reached out to touch the communicator field on the desktop, opened a line to my first mate standing watch on the bridge. 'Illy, please advise Riv and Eljor that we'll be leaving orbit within the hour.' I closed the link and looked to Jann, 'I'm going to have to cut this short, we're behind schedule and need to sail. You're welcome to travel on to Calissant as my guest, Captain, but I'm sure you'd rather travel aboard your own ship.'
'You wouldn't dare, Litang. It'll break you.'
'Maybe. Likely. No matter. Our crews are old tramp hands. They know how planets spin and Night Hawk Line operates. They'd know the Comet King could sail to Calissant just as readily as the Lost Star. And they'd know you can't force me to take on your blasted cargo. I'm not certain it's even within the scope of Min & Co.'s operating authority. You can only try to intimidate, but I've so little to lose I can't be intimidated. You've no lift.'
'Listen, Litang,' he growled rising to his feet and leaning over the desk, not that it was any obstacle in free fall. 'I don't give a damn what your shipmates think and neither should you. I'm the one you don't want to cross. Y
ou don't want to cross me.'
'Blast away,' I fired back. Then more pleasantly added, 'Really, Captain, you've tried your line and failed to make orbit. Roles reversed, I may've tried the same line myself. No hard feelings. However, I don't need the ghost of Captain Miccall standing over my shoulder to tell me how you and he would've settled this. I won't settle for anything less.'
He stood glaring down at me for several very long seconds, giving me the impression he was weighing his chances of getting away with murder.
Finally, he growled, 'Get them out.'
I let out my breath.