“I tell him that we will make a study as to how much this extra security will cost us to implement. To any who might observe, it appears that an official of a TPC enquires of an official – me – of the Families if we might not step up our security to the benefit of all.”
“And what will you tell this individual when you next speak to him?” Matt asked.
“If our answer is yes, I shall tell him that we agree that stopping the possibility of transportation of contraband on our ships is worth what the extra security will cost. If, on the other hand, we decide against such a risky venture, I shall inform this individual that while we will inform our security to be on the lookout for such smugglers, and that we will turn over to Enforcement any whom we discover, we cannot afford the extra expense to ensure that nothing gets through.” He smiled. “After all, ensuring such an outcome would mean that we must search every item of clothing, every seam, every container, be it only a pen. Quite impossible.”
“Do you trust this individual?” Bill Tannon asked.
Pierre laughed. “Trust him? No. But I trust his avarice. He loves what he calls ‘the good life’. I do not believe that he would try to entrap me or the Families. In any event, should we agree to accept his cargo, I will make payment out of my personal accounts. Should the axe fall, it will fall on me only, and I will admit to the judges that I, personally, intended to sell the merchandise to those on the colony worlds. As much as I can, I will accept full blame, and divert it from the Families. The Families will, quite rightly, disavow me.
“As all know that I spend most of my time on Earth, looking as if I am a – how do you say? – black sheep of the family, few will look further.”
No one else seemed to have any questions for Pierre. Matt considered both the good and the bad of it. Every eye turned to him as he stood.
“I thank you for bringing this to us, Pierre, Simon. I believe it merits discussion. Pierre, as we seem to have no other questions for you, you may leave us to our deliberations. We will inform you of our decision.”
The young man nodded, turned, and left the conference room. After the door had closed, Matt addressed the reps.
“Given what we believe the TPC’s and Earth governments have planned for us, I think that we should go forward with this plan.” He turned a bemused face to Simon. “I’m just surprised that none of us thought of something similar before.”
A hubbub arose, with those in favour trying to persuade those more reticent. Matt sat back, listened, and contributed but little. He hoped they would finish quickly. He needed to get back to his real work.
To his surprise and relief, they reached an agreement in only two hours.
“So,” he said, rising at the end of it all. “We agree to the terms as follows. We allow Pierre to make the deal, taking on all the risk. He will bring the seeds up to us on a dedicated Families shuttle, bypassing any official government security. Once we have the package in hand, we will store it until such time as we can ensure that actually growing the plants will not bite us. Basically, we will consider it an investment for the future. And then we will reimburse Pierre for his outlay.
“Have I left anything out? Is there any more discussion?”
Silence met his questions.
“Fine. Back to business.”
The reps rose, and left the conference room – all except Simon Fontaine. That worthy came over and shook Matt’s hand.
“Pierre would not steer us wrong. It will go well.”
“I certainly hope so – for his sake. You will tell him the news personally?”
“Oui. I think that we should avoid even a message that says simply, ‘yes’. He spends the night on FTL-1 – I believe with a woman. In the morning, before he returns to Earth, I will tell him.”
CHAPTER 11
Venture
Friday 18 June
Jaswinder closed the program with a joy she hadn’t felt in a long time. Coming back to Venture had provided her with just the break she needed. Away from Matt’s forbidding presence, with the new idea presented to her by Carson, she revelled in her familiar surroundings. She picked up her stuffed tiger, given to her so many years before.
“It’s possible!” she told it. The tiger didn’t answer. She danced around the room, grinning like a child who had just received a new toy. “It’s very possible.”
The door chimed.
Jaswinder opened the comm to see her son waiting patiently at the door. He didn’t often come to her lab. She granted him access, composed herself, and waited for the door to slide shut behind him before speaking.
“Owen. Have you a problem?”
He peered at her from under his thick Yrden brows. “Yes, Mother, we do.”
Her own eyebrows went up. Mother? Not Mom? “We?”
“Yes, Mother, we. You’ve begun locking yourself away in your lab again. You’ve missed meals, and you’ve neglected other duties.”
She sat down at her bench, and regarded him. He’d filled out this last year, and looked much like his father, though with a darker complexion, closer to her own. But his serious side seemingly came from neither of them. It struck her that he’d never been a child like the other shipboard children.
“Which duties have I neglected, Honey?”
He hated when she called him that in public, but he accepted it well enough when no one else could hear.
“Family responsibilities,” he replied, then hurried on as her eyebrows went up again. “No, not Yrden Family – our family. You, me, Becky, and Dad.”
Jaswinder made to protest, but he held up his hand, stopping her.
“You’ve cooped yourself up in here for the last ten days. When did you last do your yoga?” He paused to allow her to reflect.
She did a few moves every morning and evening, barely enough to maintain her flexibility. “I’ve done some,” she told him, unused to being on the defensive when speaking with her children.
“Not enough to even maintain the level you should be at,” he countered, perhaps correct. Then he shifted the subject. “I passed my exams. I went down to see Granddad. I came up. And I graduated four days ago.”
That hit her where she lived.
“Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry.” She looked around at her lab, wondering how she could explain necessities to him.
“Don’t even try it.”
“What?”
“I’ve heard it before.” He looked sad. “Why do you think Dad and Becky aren’t here – or, more to the point, why we aren’t there, with them?”
Jaswinder froze inside. “Whatever problems your father and I may have, that’s between us.”
He gave the rueful smile she’d loved so much when he’d used it as a youngster, admitting his errors. This time, it didn’t melt her heart like before.
“You don’t understand, Mom; you’re going to lose us all.” He waved his hand around at her equipment. “For this?”
She stood, having taken enough. “You don’t understand, Owen. I have important work, here. This is what I do.”
But he just shook his head, “No, Mom, it’s not what you do, it has become who you are.” His shoulders slumped. “Anyway, I just came to tell you that I’ve also passed the Detector Initiation course. I’m going to transfer to FTL-1 for my Level I ranking. Then I’ll put in for another ship, perhaps Solar Night.”
“Owen!”
But he had already turned and begun walking. He ignored her call, and left the lab, not knowing how badly he had shaken her.
She looked at her equipment, and whispered. “But this is important.”
* * *
Bettina turned off the comm, and sighed. Jaswinder wouldn’t like this at all. She dialled the Lab; no one answered. Her hand moved to the Inship-Broadcast, but the doorchime forestalled her.
“Enter.”
“Bettina, I have to get back to Haida Gwaii immediately, but I need a favour first,” Jaswinder said as she closed the door behind her.
Bettina cocked her head and
smiled. “Well, that’s fortuitous. Matt just called, and he insisted I send you back. You have four hours before the Earth-Haida Gwaii shuttle is ready to leave after it docks with us. It’s bringing us our winning contestant from The Lottery.” She chuckled. “I thought I’d have to send in Tanaka and three of his people to pry you loose.”
Jaswinder blinked. “He only has two people.”
“So you see the scope of the problem I anticipated. But you solved it for me. Go and pack. Hurry.”
Jaswinder, looking a little stunned, turned.
“No, wait. You wanted a favour?”
“Yes. Owen wants to go to FTL-1 for the detector training course. Could you talk him out of it?”
Bettina frowned. “That’s going to take some doing, as I talked him into it. He won’t get better training aboard ship – either Venture or another one. Come, let me walk you back to your quarters. We can talk there while you pack.”
They left the cabin, and began the trek to Jaswinder’s rooms. A thought occurred to Jaswinder, for she frowned and looked over to her companion.
“Why is the shuttle docking here first? It would make more sense to offload the workers, then come here.”
“Except Matt wants you. That would entail either an extra trip or a trip by one of our shuttles. Besides, the shuttle carries some freight for us, too – and the luthier. It also has a tourist on board – one who’s going to Haida Gwaii with you.”
“Tourist?”
“Someone named Harold Preston. Claims he knows you, and that you invited him up. Had you forgotten?”
Apparently she had. They turned down the hall, meeting Ms Fulton, who walked in the other direction.
“This shuttle, Ms Fulton,” Bettina told her. Fulton smiled widely in return.
“What’s that about?” asked Jaswinder.
“Personal order coming up from Earth.” They arrived at Jaswinder’s door. “Now, why should I talk Owen into staying here?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to lose him,” Jaswinder said. “I need more time with him.”
“And yet you told me you needed to get back to Haida Gwaii immediately. Were you thinking of taking him along?” Bettina could see that Jaswinder hadn’t thought anything through – quite unlike her.
“No. Yes. And that course is nine weeks – nine weeks without seeing him at this time is just too long.”
“What would he do over there?”
“I don’t know.” Jaswinder pulled out her travel case, and began putting her clothing into it. “We need to talk, reconnect.”
“And how much time will you have to spend with him? To reconnect? While you’re in the lab, will he just sit around doing nothing?” Bettina asked, projecting as much reasonableness into her voice as she could. She had seen this coming. “He needs something to occupy him.”
“We have to get Haida Gwaii ready to move,” Jaswinder acknowledged. “But I’ll still get to see him.”
“Yes, so Matt told me. But you’re not going to have much time for anything else, I’ll wager, and Owen will feel like you’re holding him back. It won’t work, Jaswinder. He’s set to go to FTL-1 before you even leave. Didn’t he tell you? Don’t worry, it’s just nine weeks.”
Jaswinder sat down on her bed, and covered her face with her hands. “He’s right. I’m going to lose them all. I’m going to lose everything – again.”
Bettina’s heart went out to the older woman.
“No, Jaswinder, you won’t. Like it or not, you’re part of the Family. And so are they. However, you do need to make room in your life for your life. You are not the job.” She laughed at her own words. “Except now. Right now we need you to be the job – until we get Haida Gwaii away. Do you need anything from your lab?”
Jaswinder looked up, grateful, then stood and hugged her.
“Thank you.”
Bettina didn’t know what Jaswinder thanked her for, but hugged her back.
“Earth Shuttle docking in thirty minutes,” came Ritter’s voice from the Inship.
“Time to go,” she said.
“You said I had four hours,” Jaswinder accused her.
“So I did. They’re a little early. But, as I told you, they have freight for us. They’ll be docked for two hours, at least. Come along. Let’s go meet our luthier. And you can wish Owen a speedy and safe trip. Send him off with your blessings. Then relax. It’ll be your last true off-shift for some time, I suspect.”
* * *
Venture
Friday 18 June
Now what?
Now what had he done? He had an off shift – one of the too many allotted him – and yet the captain took this time to call him to her office? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?
Carson picked up his pilot’s jacket from the next seat, gave one last look to the stars outside of Venture’s acceleration lounge, then turned his back on them, as he’d turned his back on his life. He trudged out of the lounge, and walked slowly to the lift. In the lift, he cursed the fates that had put him on a Family ship. Not trusted enough to even do watch duty on the bridge, they’d relegated him to shuttle pilot and work pilot duty. And, after the sudden and massive overstocking of the ship’s larder, that duty had thinned.
The lift opened, and he came face to face with Angela, who beamed at him, before getting in. He stepped out.
“Hi, Wen, I have a lifeboat PMI,” she said. “And then I get to go to their learning centre and take a piloting course!”
Carson stopped short, put his hand back to prevent the closing of the doors. “Piloting course?”
She nodded, enthused. “They have a learning centre – an onboard school. They’ve made the piloting course into a series of games that their children learn on. Those who have aptitude access the higher levels, and graduate to actual flight simulation. Then they become pilots. I tried out the lowest level. It’s quite fun.”
“Fun?” Carson remembered his own initiation. He didn’t recall it as fun.
“Yes. I talked with their head teacher, William. He says it’s the best way to learn. And by the time their prospective pilots go for their first licence, they’ve had as much as several thousand hours of training in various aspects of a pilot’s duty. And it’s all in the form of games.”
Carson withdrew his hand. “Well, enjoy yourself,” he said as the doors closed.
So, no wonder the Families rarely recruited from Earth-side training establishments. Perhaps, if they let him, he’d take a look at this ‘learning centre’. He glanced at his chrono ... if the captain didn’t ground him for the slack way he answered her summons. He picked up his pace.
* * *
“Pilot Carson,” Captain Yrden addressed him, no smile on her face. “This is a Family ship. Do you know what that means?”
What did she want? What had he done?
“I have a good idea. The Yrden family purchased this ship, and brought its own family members to crew it, only hiring others for positions they could not fill – or did not want to fill – from their own ranks.”
He stood in front of the captain’s desk, while she shook her head. “I’m asking if you know what it means to work on a Family ship.”
“I don’t understand. I’ve done everything asked of me.”
The captain closed her eyes, and sighed again. She opened them, and stared at him. “A Family ship means just that. We’re family. Although we all have our specialties, we pitch in and help where and when needed. Even as Captain, I’ve cleaned passenger quarters when time constraints demanded that all hands fall to.”
His jaw slackened. A captain acting as room-maid? Apparently she read the disbelief on his face, for she continued.
“Yes, I’ve done that, and helped in the kitchen, too. We’re Family. We pull together. It keeps costs down, and thus increases profits – in which we all share, you included.” She folded her hands on top of her desk, and fixed him with a glare. “I’ve yet to hear of you doing anything other than strict pilot duty. Mr Carson. That’s
not good enough.”
Gods! Get me off this ship. I won’t clean washrooms.
The thump of her open hand on her desk returned Carson’s thoughts to the here-now.
“Not good enough, Mr Carson. You’re not pulling your weight.”
He held her gaze, trying to keep his anger in check. If she kicked him off, Richardson would blacklist him.
“Nothing to say? OK, then I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll assign duties until you either help of your own volition or decide to leave this ship. And we both know the consequences of that second option, don’t we?”
The bitch. And to think he’d cursed Captain Sullivan for giving him PMI duty. Next to this captain, he held the rank of saint. She gave a slight smile, and he knew this would turn out to be something infinitely worse. She knew she had him where she wanted him. For the year, he’d have no more rights than a slave.
“It has come to my attention that you are something of a musician.”
Where had she heard that? Angela must have said something to someone, and it had gotten back to the captain.
“Although we have a music program, we have no persons of talent on board at present. Our last one transferred to Solar Night six months ago. You have the luck to replace her as teacher. I’ll organize a sign-up, and get you some students. They might be children, they might be crew, they might be family of crew – or even a courtesan. I don’t know. You will get some, no doubt.”
He’d kill Angela. He did not want to get any closer to these people; just do his time and leave, that’s all he desired.
“I have no instrument,” he said.
“You play guitar, I hear. We have a couple of those lying around.”
Great. A couple of banged-up old pieces of junk. He caught her gaze, and she stared at him mercilessly. If he refused this, she’d find something much worse. She’d batter him down until he admitted defeat. He knew her type. Bitch.
He broke off the staring contest, and sighed. “Very well, Captain. Music lessons. Where will I find these guitars of which you speak?”
Not With A Whimper: Survivors Page 11