Derelict For Trade Page 3

  The crew expressed their relief and satisfaction in a variety of ways, from Jasper Weeks’s quiet smile to Ali Kamil’s jokes.

  Ali hit the intership com with an extravagant gesture. "We’ve got fuel, Captain."

  Stotz looked up. "Ask him how much he wants transferred over. We’ll need a minimum of thirty percent in order to decelerate and dock."

  Ali nodded and relayed the question.

  After a brief pause, Captain Jellico’s voice came back: "Take half. How long?"

  "No more than four hours," Stotz replied.

  "Make it three," replied Jellico and the com clicked off.

  "You heard him," said the engineer.

  The crew sprang into action. Kamil disappeared outside to attach the fuel hose already snaking over from the Queen, brought by Rip Shannon, and for what seemed far longer than the time allotted, Dane did what he was told, functioning as an extra pair of hands for Stotz and Kamil, who talked back in forth in their own cryptic shorthand. Dane’s inner clock kept yammering at him about the length of time it was taking to make the conversion—he had no idea if the Kanddoyds would warn them first before blasting them out of space.

  He didn’t let himself look at the time until Stotz said finally, "We’re done."

  All four of them looked: two hours, forty-five minutes.

  "Nice work, my children." Ali managed a graceful bow despite the bulky suit.

  Stotz snorted. "Get back over to the Queen. Captain wants us. Rip,

  you’re to stay here with Wilcox. You too, Jasper. I want you down here monitoring."

  Jasper Weeks nodded silently, and began drifting around the engine room, looking closely at the alien scripts.

  Dane followed the others back to the lock, and one by one they blasted along the cable to the Queen.

  As the lock of the Solar Queen pressurized around them, Dane felt excitement flood though him, and he rotated his neck, trying to ease the kinks out. Immediate danger seemed averted, though they were not in the clear yet.

  "Decontamination cycle commencing," came Kosti’s voice, and Dane squeezed his eyes shut as the UV lights flared on. He felt the needle-sharp spray of biostop even through his suit, and he raised his arms and turned slowly around, letting the deadly solution hammer against every square millimeter of his suit. The actinic light died, and as Dane opened his eyes his almost giddy sense of relief provoked a snicker at the sight of his crewmates in an identical posture, for all of space like a troupe of Parnixian Devil Dancers.

  "Stand by for acceleration," came the captain’s voice. Jump seats swung down from the walls of the lock, and they sat down and strapped in. The engines roared, and weight returned, building swiftly towards what felt like about 1.25 gees.

  "We cut it close!" Kamil exclaimed.

  "Damn close," Stotz muttered, but Dane heard the relief in his voice. The Kanddoyd defense monitors would see their engine exhaust, and soon their change of course. They were safe.

  As soon as Kosti released them from decontamination, Dane stripped off his suit and ducked out of the lock bay. Carefully, he swung onto the downdeck ladder and climbed down three levels, feeling the increased acceleration in his thighs.

  He found the two doctors in the surgery, hovering solicitously over the cats from the Starvenger. The two animals were in an isolation box. Both were sleeping; to Dane they already looked better.

  "Not safe to touch?" he asked.

  Tau shrugged. "They exhibit no signs of anything we’re familiar with, but we can’t take any chances—they could be infected with some rare new bacteria."

  Dane put his hand into the gloveport and reached down to stroke one of the black-and-white heads, when a flicker on the periphery of his vision made him pause. Tail high, Sinbad, the Queen's cat, marched in, and leaped up onto the table next to the isolation box.

  One of the cats seemed to sense another feline, and raised its head. Delicately, with proper detachment, the two cats touched noses to either side of the plastic, sniffed, and with a little chirrup of affront that sounded to Dane just like one of the matrons at the orphanage where he’d lived before Pool, Sinbad turned away. Clearly these animals, while trespassers, were not deemed a threat to his territory.

  "We’re calling them Alpha and Omega," Rael Cofort told Dane, her blue eyes glinting through long, silky lashes.

  Dane turned away, hoping his neck wouldn’t look as hot as it felt. "Which is which?" he asked, making a business of stroking one of the cats behind its ears with one gloved finger.

  "That one’s Alpha," Tau said. "And that one Omega."

  "No, no," Rael Cofort said promptly. "That one is Alpha."

  The two doctors looked from the nearly identical cats to each other, and laughed.

  "Two females, probably from the same litter," Tau said. "It seems a poetic touch, somehow, if we never do figure it out."

  "They’re safe enough now," Frank Mura said from the doorway. "Captain’s waiting above."

  "Conference time," Tau said, nodding. "Let’s go."

  Dane followed the others back up to the galley level, to the galley mess room, which was the largest gathering area on the Queen. It was cramped—the Queen had been built in the days when luxuries like extra space were deemed too expensive. There were a lot more comfortable ships flying around known space, particularly for a man who seemed about two inches taller than the architect had planned for, but the Queen, with all its quirks, was home. Dane felt another flood of relief and gratitude that once again they were safe— and ready to plan for their next move.

  As they crowded into the mess, Dane started heading automatically to the farthest corner of the cabin, a somewhat secluded spot under a bulkhead from which one could see everyone. As his footsteps took him in that direction, he saw Rael Cofort settle into the seat, and he turned aside, caught Van Ryke’s genial eye, and dropped down beside his superior.

  Opposite Cofort, Captain Jellico stood. There was no sign in his hard countenance of their recent scrape with death and danger. As soon as everyone was in place, either sitting or ranged along the wall, he said, " Ya was able to cancel the SOS before anyone responded. Wilcox, Shannon, and Weeks are conning the other ship on a matching course." He gestured at the communication grill. "They’re patched in with a laser link. Anyway, our velocity is too high for a direct approach, so we will have to loop around Mykos before we pull in, which gives us a week. During that time I want everything on the other ship catalogued, from the hydro to the galley."

  He paused, and Van Ryke and Mura nodded silently. Dane felt a spurt of anticipation—he could hardly wait to get over there and poke around that cargo bay with lots of time to spare. From the pleased smile on Van Ryke’s face, he could tell the cargo master was thinking the same thing.

  "What we have now before us is a decision. Legally we should be able to lay claim to the Starvenger, for we rescued it. Though we are no longer in Federation space, my understanding is that in the Kanddoyd-Shver-Terran Concord of Harmony set up here when humans were first invited in, certain Federation laws were guaranteed. One of them is the right to salvage."

  Van Ryke nodded silently.

  Jellico went on, "What we need to vote on is whether we sell this ship and her cargo—or whether we keep her and expand our cargo capabilities."

  "If her cargo turns out to be low value, we’ll really have to scramble to get something to trade with. Not to mention fueling two ships," Johan Stotz pointed out.

  "And dockage for two ships in the meantime," Ali put in, from where he lounged against a bulkhead. "After all, this is new territory for us, and there’s no telling how long our dear friends in the City of Harmonious Exchange will keep us paying for their hospitality while we clear up the legalities."

  Mura nodded soberly. "I vote we sell it."

  "The dockage problem isn’t necessarily as bad as you think," Van Ryke said, looking around the room. "We won’t have to pay double fees if we leave the Starvenger outside, which costs considerably less. We’ll brin
g the Queen inside— we do have Macgregory’s letter of credit to cover the initial docking fees. It’s only the duration we’ll need to pay for."

  Mura rubbed his chin, frowning silently.

  Craig Tau said, "I take it, Jan, you’re in favor of keeping this ship."

  "Of course." The cargo master spread his hands. "We not only double our cargo space, but our opportunities—if need be, our little fleet can investigate two possibilities for trade instead of one." He nodded at Rael. "Is this not how your esteemed brother started his successful career?"

  Rael Cofort nodded. "We sank everything we had into our ships, and he expanded as quickly as he could."

  Tau said, "I’ll admit, it’s disheartening when we start to build up some steam, then lose everything. Who knows how many Denlieth disasters are waiting in our future? At least we’d only lose half."

  "That second ship would stand as security," Van Ryke added. "If we had to we could always sell her later. No matter where we are, a good ship is expensive and will bring a good price."

  Jellico looked across the room at Rael. "Any opinion, Dr. Cofort?"

  "What do Steen and Rip think?" she countered.

  "I’ll go with the majority, Chief," Wilcox’s voice came promptly over the com. "But let me add this: if we expand, there are three apprentices and one jet tech who will be promoted at last, and each of them has earned it several times over."

  Ali grinned, bowing toward the com grill. Dane felt his neck go hot, and he fought against the urge to tug at his collar.

  "Of course that means we have to hire on new crew," Stotz put in with a frown. "That’s a tricky venture, particularly as we still have years to go on our embargo from Terraport. We can’t rely on Psycho to synch us up with good crew."

  "With all due respect for Terra’s excellent psychological evaluative computers," Van Ryke said, "we have two equally excellent doctors aboard who ought to be able to screen possible employees."

  Mura smiled wryly. "I’m less worried about finding good shipmates than I am about paying them."

  Jellico looked up at Dane. "What do you say, Thorson?"

  "If they’re Traders like us, they’ll go with staking their pay against getting better cargo. When we win, we all win."

  "Well said, my boy." Van Ryke nodded genially. "If steady pay was our first priority, we’d all be cogs in one of the big Company drives. We don’t have to move at once—we can split crew and pilot both, as we did with the Space Wrack, for a time. But when we find likely prospects, if we are straightforward about our situation, we’ll get a straight answer. "

  Jellico gave a short nod. "And you, Karl?"

  Kosti jerked his thumb in Van Ryke’s direction. "Jan hasn’t pushed us into a nova yet."

  The captain looked from face to face. "I’m hearing a consensus," he said. "Anyone against keeping the Starvenger! Now’s the time to speak up."

  Mura lifted his hand. "I don’t know. my own feelings are mixed, but like Karl said, we’ve trusted Jan’s hunches before, and they’ve played out.

  I’m in."

  Stotz laid his hands flat on the table. "I’ll admit I’d like more time to poke around that engine. I suspect there are some nice improvements on our old drives I can learn from and improvise. Why not keep her for now? As Jan said, we can always sell her if need be. But getting out with some cargo now will be tricky."

  "Leave that to us," Van Ryke said, thumping Dane’s shoulder.

  Jellico looked around again. "Then it’s settled."

  "What I want to know is," Mura said, "how in the Five Hells of Krantuvi we managed to hook up with her out in space?"

  "Pure luck," came Steen Wilcox’s voice over the com.

  "And about time," said Kamil.

  Wilcox continued as if Ali hadn’t spoken. "We just happened to intersect her realspace position during engine windup, when the ship is most vulnerable to gravitational knots."

  "The engines seem to be intact," Kosti said. "No signs of tampering or sabotage."

  "No signs of violence anywhere," Rip’s voice came over the com. "I checked all the cabins. Belongings were all gone, no signs of any scuffles or breaks."

  Jellico’s eyes narrowed. "But the comps were stripped, which contraindicates an emergency evacuation. That takes time."

  "All the comps except that little auxiliary one in hydro," Ya spoke up for the first time. "I’ll get to work on that right away."

  "Everything gone," Tau said, "except the cats. That’s puzzling—even if they had an emergency, it seems to me any crew would take the time to scoop the cats into their suits, if nothing else."

  "We’re not talking about Terrans here," Stotz said.

  "But they had cats, which is a human and humanoid custom," Rael

  countered. "And despite the shape Alpha and Omega were found in, we think they were well cared for."

  Tau nodded, tapping his fingers on the table. "They were overlooked. This, with the computer wipes, bothers me." He looked up at the captain. "From what I remember of salvage law, we are required to report any sentients on board a derelict, whether alive or dead."

  "True," Van Ryke said. "There’s always an investigation to make certain the salvagers didn’t get their ship through foul play."

  "We don’t have to mention the cats, then," Tau said. He leaned back and folded his arms. "We’ll need to keep them here in any case, for it’ll be a while before they’re strong enough to set free again. When we make our report, I really think we should sit on this particular item."

  Jellico’s brows lifted slightly. "Then you do suspect foul play."

  Tau shook his head. "I just think we ought to keep the cats to ourselves."

  Rael Cofort said quietly, "I have to admit I really dislike the idea of acquiring a ship that might have been abandoned under coercive or suspicious circumstances."

  Jellico’s chin lifted slightly in a dismissive gesture that his crew knew well: his mind was made up. "No sentients on board, we found and rescued her fair and square. Salvage Law says she’s ours."

  "We may as well benefit," Ali said with a rakish smile. "If we don’t, someone else will eventually come along and get her—and I really think we’re about due for some luck."

  Several of the others nodded, and Dane watched Cofort concede the point. Her eyes stayed serious, though, her expression reflective. He felt the impulse to ask her what she was thinking—but he was too embarrassed to speak and have that jewel-bright blue gaze turn his way. She might think he was an idiot.

  "Let’s have a formal vote, then," the captain said. "All in favor of keeping the Starvenger ?"

  The crew members spoke their ayes, and Jellico said, "Then that’s it. We’ll fly her in, dock her outside, and rotate crews of two out to guard her until we’ve finished our business and found ourselves a cargo."

  "Then, my boy, we have lots to do before we dock," Van Ryke said to Dane. "No time to dawdle. Let’s suit up and find out what we’ve inherited."

  4

  "That's the last of them," Van Ryke said, three fingers tapping with practiced speed on his hand comp. "Twelve cases of stridulation unguent."

  "Seems most of this was meant for Kanddoyd trade," Dane said.

  The cargo master nodded. "Certainly the unguent."

  Dane ran his gloved hand over the cases of small containers, trying to recall what he’d read about the insectoid race. "What’s it for? Alterations in stridulation tones, isn’t it?"

  Van Ryke gave a nod. "Indeed: a sonic analogue of perfume. Kanddoyd fashions also run to these carapace jewels." He held up a large, faceted jewel mounted on a kind of small corkscrew whose sharp tip glittered coldly in the yellow light from overhead. Dane shuddered even though he knew the Kanddoyd carapace was largely nerveless.

  "And these cosmetic rasps, as well." Van Ryke grinned at him. "It might help if you thought of them as oversize fingernail files—that’s pretty much their function."

  Dane returned his grin as he pointed at another row of containers. "Wh
at about those?"

  "My guess is that the metallo-paints are used by the Shver for clan rituals. Those scented wood chips are somewhat of a mystery, but I doubt they are a high-pri item. The solvents and alloys and friction preventives are standard trade for habitats."

  "So it all came from Exchange," Dane said.

  "Logical," Van Ryke murmured as they crossed the bay a last time.

  Dane could feel the extra quarter-gee in his thighs. Free Traders rarely boosted over one gravity except in emergencies, which this was. But at least their trajectory was now aimed away from the Kanddoyd habitats, so they need not fear destruction by the habitat antimeteor defenses.

  "After all, the fuel was full, so they had to be starting their journey, rather than ending it. And since there is nothing here of startling value, one must assume something went amiss with the crew. Sickness, or a parasite—"

  "Unless it was an attack," Dane said. "That scar on the hull."

  "Could be old," Van Ryke said. "They wouldn’t necessarily need to fix the fairing if they transported between habitats. It would only be dangerous if they attempted to enter a planet’s atmosphere."

  "Then there’s the empty bay." Dane indicated the deck below them.

  "Something might have been removed from it," Van Ryke conceded, "or it might have been empty all along. Unless Ya can read the script, we won’t have a clue, I’m afraid. But more to the point, with this minimally valuable cargo, we’re going to have fewer options for dealing." He sighed and looked at his chrono. "My time is up. The captain will be cutting boost in a moment, and I’m for the Queen. I’ll tally the numbers, and start researching these items more thoroughly." He smiled at Dane. "Disappointing as our cargo seems to be, our experiences on Sargol should serve as a reminder of the potential of the most unexpected items."

  "Catnip," Dane said. Inwardly he winced. He knew that Van Ryke was thinking only of the advantage the Queen had gained over their rivals of Inter-Solar when the indigenous people of Sargol had discovered the Queen's catnip—but Dane’s memory went right back to the near disaster he’d avoided only by luck when he’d thoughtlessly given the native youngster the sprig of catnip without even thinking about its possible lethal potential to another species.