The Fifth Correction

by Robert Wingfield

  “No problem.”

  “And what about income?”

  “These are the god-awful tidings. Apart from the misappropriation of the Company jet, we haven’t much income at all. Interest on loans you know about, but as far as I can see, we aren’t actually selling anything.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Nobody can tell me what we actually make or supply.”

  “So we really must be a consultancy company. That’s a good way of making money without having to actually do anything.”

  “Perhaps.” Amber retrieved her pad as Tom slid it back across the table to her. “That might be a clue to the ‘C’ in the company name, but there is very little income from that field. We do have a few teams in other businesses, telling them what they already know, and of course providing training and inspirational posters they don’t really need.”

  “It’s not that ethical, is it?” said Caryl, now back with Tom and rubbing the inside of his thigh.

  “Not really,” said Amber, “But we get away with it because our customers haven’t the trust in their own staff to listen to what they are saying. Apparently our guys chat to the workers and simply submit their comments in a big report for the bosses, who lap it up.”

  “How much are we charging them for that?” Tom leaned back in his seat and tried to cross his legs.

  “A lot,” said Amber. “But then they deserve the subsequent reduction in their bonuses as the profits plummet.”

  “We’re not working with banks, then,” said Tom. “We may need to revisit that.” He fidgeted, and tried to focus back on the meeting, turning to another member of the executive team. “Young Pete, you haven’t said anything yet. How is IT and Development coming along? What have you got to report?”

  The youth sat up straight. “I’ve closed ‘Constrictions’, our social media platform…” He faltered as there was another snort from the end of the table, and regarded Errorcode uncomfortably. “Sorry to shut your platform down, Mr Errorcode, but nobody was able to use it. When we could get it working it was impossible to find any information, and the only department to really benefit was the staff restaurant, with menus and feedback, and ordering the tea and meeting rooms.”

  “But it cost 17 million,” blustered Errorcode. “We have to use it. That’s too much money to throw down the drain.”

  “We can save 10 million a year in licence fees,” said Pete, nervously.

  “A good decision,” said Tom. “Don’t worry Monty, I have every confidence in Young Pete. He is the top man for the job, since Old Pete left us.”

  “Was assassinated, you mean,” muttered Errorcode.

  “Yes, it was sad to lose him, the entire Plank of Directors and your beloved leader, Ferdinand Badloser, in that tragic accident; very sad but we have to rise above these setbacks.” He settled back in his seat. “So Pete, how are we now going to communicate across the organisation?”

  “We have reverted to what everyone was already unofficially using; videophones and conferencing, email and word-processing. In time alone we’ve saved 50% of everyone’s day.”

  “How?” Errorcode challenged. “Constrictions was going to streamline all our operations by keeping the data and processes in one place. Everyone was using it. I’ve seen the stats.”

  Pete recoiled under the tirade and went silent.

  “It’s okay, Pete,” said Tom. “Monty isn’t attacking you…”

  “With respect, I bloody am,” muttered the man. “Stupid young whipper-snapper, what does he know?”

  “He is only interested in your reasoning,” said Tom, smiling at Pete. “Can you explain the paradox of why everyone and no-one is using it?”

  Pete fidgeted and shot a worried glance at Errorcode. “You see, everyone was using it, because Mr Errorcode told them to, but then they were also doing their normal jobs through other media. Removing Constrictions has made everyone more cheerful.”

  “We’ll soon see about that,” said Errorcode. “Being cheerful doesn’t get the job done.”

  “That’s why you’re in charge of Change Management,” said Tom. “They probably don’t like to be cheerful there. ‘Changes’ are serious business. You have to have ‘Changes’.”

  “I’m glad we agree on something,” said Errorcode, entirely missing the sarcasm.

  “Thank you Pete,” said Tom. “Monty and the Committee are right behind you. Keep on searching and see what else you can do with cost and efficiency. I’m very pleased with your progress so far. If you need any help, come directly to me.” He stabbed a meaningful glance at Errorcode. “I know Monty was your former boss, but he has his hands full with Change Management, and I don’t want you to divert his attention by soliciting any input from him; clear?”

  “Very clear,” said Pete.

  “Monty?”

  Errorcode scowled and slipped down into his seat. “It’s not rocket science,” he muttered.

  “Actually that’s what we’re about to talk of,” said Tom. “Now, Tanda, how are you getting on with that other project?”

  The statuesque Skagan squared her shoulders. “I still think you should have Vac here instead of me.”

  “Perhaps, but you are his deputy.”

  “Second-in-Command, if you don’t mind, sir.”

  “That’s fine by me,” Tom nodded, “although I do find the military references a little disturbing. Are you still giving me the close protection I really don’t need?”

  “We have your ‘six’,” said Tanda, “If that’s what you mean. We wouldn’t have it any other way; insurgents everywhere.”

  “You can leave my Six alone,” said Tom, giving Caryl a squeeze, “And you keep telling me about insurgents, but have you actually seen, or better still, captured anyone yet?”

  Tanda ignored the question. “Vac is roaming the planet in our prototype ship, the ‘Skagan Surprise’, looking for an alternative power source,” she mumbled.

  “Did he remove those laser cannons from it like I asked, before setting off?” said Tom.

  “I didn’t think to check.”

  “Young Pete, did you have a look?”

  Pete looked worried again. “I did ask him, but you can’t argue with someone like that. He said he would remove them, but wouldn’t let me inspect the ship before it took off.”

  “Oh dear; more compensation claims to worry about.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” said Tanda. “He knows that we need the new materials. He is motivated.”

  “I hope he’s not thinking of using the new ships for anything aggressive. We need them to save the company. We won’t get many sales if he goes around blasting away. That’s not good for customer retention.”

  “We might be able to sell to the military markets,” ventured Errorcode.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We need to keep the firepower technology to ourselves. The idea of something like that in military hands gives me the frissons. Remember team, you are all under a non-disclosure agreement.”

  There were nods around the table, even from the top of Errorcode’s head.

  “Right, go to it.”

  The meeting broke up. Caryl waited until the last committee member had departed and the door was closed before throwing herself on Tom.

  “Agony,” she said, “Me and you in the same room without me being able to jump on you.”

  “I thought you said we were professionals,” grinned Tom, slipping his hand up her skirt. “Ah, stockings, and… oh.”

  “You’d better lock the door,” she said, grinning. “It’s been a long hour.”

  Piracy

  A Freighter gets Holed

  A Hold gets Plundered

  A

  large freighter drifted peacefully at double-light-speed through the regions of space not too far away from an inhabited but somewhat mephitic solar system. The captain looked up from his ‘Redshirt the Disposable: Space Adventurer’ comic as his second
in command entered with a cup of hot chocolate.

  “All systems operational and running, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Number Two; and the cargo?”

  “Nicely refrigerated and not complaining too much at the moment.”

  “Good. We want it to still be fresh when we get to our destination.”

  “It will certainly be that. It was getting a bit fresh with me until I turned the temperature down.”

  “That would be the guests’ quarters. Are they happy?”

  “It is in their breeding to serve, so our customers will be happy at least.”

  “That’s a start I suppose. I’m not really comfortable running refugees, but one has to take the jobs when they come up.”

  “They all volunteered, Captain. They said it was better than where they come from.”

  “I’ve seen it; dreadful place. Odd how those austere surroundings breed such attractive creatures.” The captain folded up his comic.

  “I think it’s the diet; all they can get is cabbage and vodka, so they never put on any weight. There is also a problem with the genes since that Fusion Reactor went off bang and polluted half their world.”

  The captain smiled. “Some say it improved the scenery.”

  “I suppose it did, keeping the humans away and letting Nature take over, but it also damaged the DNA so that most human offspring are now female, and incidentally, the rabbits are growing to the size of bison. The girls were telling me that they have to make the best of themselves to be in with any chance of getting a boyfriend. That’s why they are all gorgeous—there’s so much competition.”

  “I expect the boys love it.”

  “Most of them were too tired to say.”

  “No stowaways then?”

  “No captain, there are so many unattached ladies left behind that the few males who are there really don’t want to leave to find work elsewhere.”

  “I can see that they wouldn’t, but I still feel it is wrong for us to charge them to relocate.”

  “As I’ve mentioned, it is cash on delivery, Captain. The customers are paying; in fact they will be holding an auction when we arrive, and bidding for the cargo.”

  “You didn’t tell me about the sale. I thought they already had selected husbands to live with,” said the captain.

  “They did, but I thought that an auction would be fairer, and we would be sure of getting the cash. You know what tight gits the gong farmers are: reluctant to pay up, once they have their merchandise.”

  “An auction; I see. So tell me how we differ from slave-traders in that case? If the authorities find out, I’ll lose my ship and licence.”

  “We’re really in no trouble,” said Number Two. “I got all the girls to sign release forms, and they are looking forward to finding a place where there is an excess of males, although the Doku Farmers are a rough bunch…”

  “But loaded, kindly and good to their mothers, it says here in the brochure,” said the captain, flicking through a small catalogue of rough and bearded faces.

  “Let’s hope that’s true,” said Number Two thoughtfully. “I might take first choice; I was thinking of getting married myself.”

  “You mentioned that earlier and I meant to talk to you about it.”

  “Talking?” said Number Two. He passed over a large glossy publication filled with CVs and portraits. “This is what the famers work to. Have you seen the girl on page 57 and what she’s written about her sexual preferences? What’s with talking?”

  The captain grunted. “If you do choose one, the likelihood is that she will be more than willing, right up until she hitches with you and persuades you to tear up the prenuptial agreement, and get a vasectomy. Once the three months settling in period is over, you will find out who’s boss.”

  “I think I’ll risk it, Captain, even for three glorious months. Pass me the brochure.” He flicked the pages. “No, I’m sure she’ll be faithful. It says so here in her C.V.”

  “There you go then, page 57 is yours. Remember to keep her away from fast food and cakes, or you will find you’ve twice the woman you started with. It happens with them all, but usually it’s too late for the owner to do anything about it. And if the girls don’t become lard-arses once they’ve settled in, they go off and find a richer man, taking half your estate and citing ‘mental cruelty’.”

  “Don’t worry about any expensive divorce sir; I know. The trick is to never have anything worth suing over. Spend everything you get and never have anything paid for that they can claim half of; I always stick with the credit agencies. Of course you don’t tell them to start with.”

  “Of course. Do you do that often?”

  “Only a theory, sir.”

  “I hope it works out for you. You can take her in lieu of wages, seeing as how you need to ensure you’ve nothing she can claim. The poverty will bring you closer together.”

  “Thank you, sir, I think. Oh, by the way, are we getting a bit too close to that system with the inhabited planet. We don’t want to be detected; they still think they are alone in the Universe.”

  “Yes, adjust course to avoid it, Number Two. Actually, do you have a real name? I’ve always called you ‘Number Two’ out of habit. I’m not sure what I’d call you, say, if you got promoted to group captain.”

  “Probably, ‘sir’ I guess, sir, but let’s not worry about that. What I’d like to worry about is the ship that the hadron detectors have picked up over there.”

  The captain whistled. “The display certainly shows something but it’s too small to be a vessel, isn’t it?”

  “I thought it was an asteroid to start with, but they don’t move that fast.”

  “There shouldn’t be any other craft in this area. The planet has only managed to produce atmospheric vehicles so far. It says so on Millipedia, and everything there is always bang up to date.”

  “Of course it is, sir, being maintained by millions of contributors, and even more legs. They can’t possibly be wrong?”

  “Probably not; it must have come from somewhere else. We don’t need to worry, the next inhabited system is our destination.”

  “Would they bother coming this far out?”

  “I think we’re about to find out, Number Two. It’s caught up with us and seems to have slowed alongside.”

  “That’s fast. Worrying isn’t it.”

  “It is now. I think it’s trying to contact us. Turn on the pion18 receiver please, while I finish my chocolate.”

  “Attention freighter,” came the message through the pionio “This is the pirate vessel, ‘Hynishota’. Heave-to and prepare to be boarded.”

  “Are you serious?” The captain regarded the console. “This is Captain Wang here, of the freighter, ‘Utopedia’. Put yourselves on the viewer so we can see who we are being menaced by, so anachronistically.”

  “Sorry,” said the voice, “First rule of pirating; we have to maintain our anonymity.”

  “So how will you do that if you are boarding us? Won’t we be able to identify you later?”

  “I hadn't thought of that,” said the pirate. The captain could have sworn he heard a female voice say “Stupid bugger, why didn’t you think of that?”

  “Have got a woman on your ship?”

  “Women can be pirates too,” answered the other voice haughtily. “We are more ruthless than the men. No mercy, no survivors.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “We can’t tell you that,” said the male voice. “I said we are retaining anonymity.”

  “Yes of course, but we do have proper pirate names,” said the woman.

  “Shhh,” said the man.

  “I should tell him,” said the woman. “He needs to know who he is being attacked by, or he’ll go to the briny deep of space, wondering who was that masked man.”

  “Go on then,” said the man, “but don’t blame me if…”

  “I am Bloodthirsty Babe Ruth and my leader h
ere is Neckbeard.”

  “Neckbeard the Pirate?” sniggered the Second in Command. “What are they on?”

  “I heard that,” said Neckbeard. “It’s most hurtful that you make fun of my shaggy situation. Anyway, you are going to heave-to and let us board you.”

  “No we’re not,” said the captain, “For one, we are not powered by sail and have no intention of heaving anything, and for two, we’re not in the least intimidated by you, especially as you lied about being ‘ruthless’, as your companion is evidently not so. We are a thousand times bigger than you; we have defence lasers and force-shields. What makes you think you stand any chance against us?”

  “Oh for Phoist’s sake show him,” muttered Ruth. “Fire the Shunt.”

  The captain cut the link. “Shields up,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to say that, like ‘Redshirt’ in his command role.”

  “I hope they still work,” said Number Two. “We’ve never used them before. This extended era of peace in the galaxy is such a pain.” He took a breath. “I’m pressing the button.”

  “Do you need to tell me that?”

  “What other way is there to let anyone else know what’s going on? It would be a sadly boring trip if we sat there, pressing buttons and rotating levers in total silence.”

  “Press the sodding button,” said the captain.

  “I’m pressing the sodding button, sir. Oh.”

  “What?”

  “It looks like Macrosquat are downloading yet another of their system updates; it says that this one is to improve the efficiency of the shields. They are telling me not to switch off while the system reboots. Bugger.”

  “Can you stop the download and save our lives?”

  “Too late, they’ve locked out the console while they tell us what the other 427 essential updates were for, wish us a nice day and suggest that we upgrade to ‘Goggles 2920 Galactic Edition’ before they discontinue support of UNIX. They’re also saying our licence key is invalid.”

  “I’ll play for time,” said the captain. He switched the pionio back on. “Hello Neckbeard. This is Captain Wang here.”

  “I know who you are. What do you want? I thought you were going to heave-to and let us board you.”