by David Smith
O’Mara smiled a beaming “I told you so” smile until a threatening scowl from Romanov told her she was definitely not forgiven.
There was a beep from the console O’Mara was stood at and she turned to check it out. Relieved, but still nervous, Hollins asked ‘What was that?’
O’Mara checked it. ‘It’s the universal translator. There’s only one signal chemical left in the plasma conduit systems. The translator thinks it says “goodbye”.’
Chapter 2: ‘Cause and Effect’
Personal Log: Chief Petty Officer Reuben Money
Star Date 9303.3
Another day, another dollar!
My father always told me that every day was another opportunity, and that the real winners in life are not those that necessarily achieve great things, but those who make the best of what opportunity brings their way.
Truth be told, my father was a bit of an asshole, but that one phrase has probably influenced me more than anything anyone else has ever said to me.
You could argue that as philosophical statements go, it’s not a world shaker, but it’s always resonated with me and shaped everything that I’ve ever done.
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Chief Money stomped down the passageway to his office on Deck 10, ignoring everyone he met.
He’d always been an entrepreneur, always sought to maximise whatever opportunity came his way. However, things were getting difficult.
When Money had joined USS Tiger many years before, the ship had been crewed by officers who couldn’t or wouldn’t do their jobs, commanded by a Captain who didn’t care whether they did or didn’t.
He’d got away with murder.
However, since Dave Hollins had joined the crew as Executive Officer, it had become more and more difficult to find those opportunities. Hollins was far sharper than either Captain Emmanuel LaCroix or Commander Israel Joynes had ever been
To the Chief’s horror, LaCroix and Joynes had been shunted off the ship and Hollins had been promoted to Captain. Now in command, Hollins was about to let slip the biggest opportunity that had ever been presented in the history of the free-market economy: He planned to refit the ship’s warp drive and do away with the Tana warp coils they’d bodged into the system in a dire emergency.
While the coils had worked better than anyone had dared hope, they’d eventually discovered that they’d interacted with the ships original coils in an entirely unexpected way.
Warp coils warped the fabric of space so the ship could travel at speeds apparently greater than light. The Tana coils warped space in a different geometry to their own Federation-built coils and bizarrely the combination of the two fields drove the ship forward at massive velocities whilst also pushing it backwards through time.
The scientists were still trying to work out the fine detail of the interaction, but to Chief Money’s mind, they were missing the important point.
The interaction of the fields was irrelevant. What was important, and represented the gigantic opportunity, was the fact that they’d inadvertently created a time machine.
He’d spent restless nights fantasising how much cash he could generate if he could slip back just one week in time.
Stocks and shares, currency fluctuations, sports betting . . . the opportunities were mind-boggling.
But the Captain was about to give it all up for nothing. The Tana coils were already disconnected in the port engine, ready been replaced. The Starboard engine was to be similarly eviscerated as soon as the Port engine was completed.
The Chief sighed and rubbed his aching neck. His jaw was aching and he realised he’d been subconsciously grinding his teeth together really hard.
He could feel the opportunity slipping away from him, and it wasn’t a nice feeling. He carried on to his office in the stores complex, mulling over ways in which to take the opportunity before it was gone for good.
That wasn’t as easy as it sounded. How do you manage to persuade the skipper of a ship with four hundred crew to go where you want him to go when Command insist on giving him those dratted mission things?
Worse still, the ship was nowhere near fit to sail. The Engineers had already started the removal of the Tana coils and he needed them intact and working to be able to try any venture. As soon as the first coil was physically removed, the opportunity would be gone for good. Time was running out.
He slumped in his chair, ruminating on how he could engineer even a single excursion before the window of opportunity closed. He was so lost in his thoughts that at first he didn’t notice that PO Winston had entered his office.
‘You alright boss?’
‘Yeah, sorry ‘Arry, just got a few things on my mind. What’s up?’
‘Just had an instruction from the Bridge, sir. There’s a tug coming into orbit and they’ve asked if we can supply them with a few spare parts.’
‘Spare parts? Like what?’
‘Arry handed over a pad that contained a list of familiar items: a power cable, co-ax data couplings, low-power relays . . . all standard Federation equipment. What on earth was a Starfleet tug doing this far out?
He realised he must have spoken loud, as ‘Arry answered him.
‘It’s not a Fleet tug, guv, it’s a tatty old private one. Apparently the guy’s been drifting around the FTES for a couple of years mostly making a living from recovering scrap.’
‘Scrap?’
‘Yeah. The FTES is littered with thousands and thousands of derelict spaceships and stations. There must’ve been a big war out here at some stage.’
‘Arry shrugged. ‘Ironically, it’s not those that he’s found this time. He was heading off to Hole for some stuff, when he came across the remains of that Tana scout we fought a while back. He’s towed it here because he’s heard the local Sha T’Al have got a Tana battleship and he figured he might be able to trade the wreck with them so they can cannibalise it for spare-parts.’
The Chief didn’t need to ask how ‘Arry knew all this: he’d trained his team well and they all kept an ear to the ground. If there was anything going on anywhere on the ship, someone in his team would know about it.
He was about to hand the pad back and tell ‘Arry to get it sorted when his instincts got the better of him.
The Tana scout that they’d fought and beaten over a year ago. A warp-capable scout-vessel, undoubtedly propelled by those weird shaped Tana warp-drive coils. Being towed by a tug with Federation-pattern engines.
Fate moves in mysterious ways. Fortune favours the brave. However, most importantly (and as the Chief constantly reminded his team), money always goes to Money.
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The Chief looked around the small cargo bay that doubled as a transporter room for the tug. The Pacifica was much smaller, much older and even tattier than Tiger.
There was junk stowed everywhere, most of it completely unrecognisable alien artefacts that the skipper had evidently collected from somewhere in Treaty Space.
The space was cluttered, untidy and poorly lit, mostly as the majority of the light fittings were broken. Even in the dim light he could see that many other fixtures bore visible signs of hasty (and not particularly professional) repairs.
Despite that, with a few minor repairs, she’d be warp-capable, and with a few minor tweaks, she’d be more than warp-capable.
The Chief heard footsteps coming from behind him and turned to find himself facing a broad Polynesian man. The contrast between himself and the newcomer were stark.
The Chief was short, rotund, balding and, as always, immaculately turned out in a clean, neat and perfectly pressed Fleet uniform. The hulking Polynesian was built like a line-backer and had to duck to get under the beams of the deck-head. He was dressed in tatty overalls that were tied around his waist and below these he wore a vest that had probably been white at some previous stage of its existence. The remains of the vest revealed the dark swirling tattoo patterns beloved of Polynesians for a thousand years.
He hel
d out a sweaty, grimy hand. ‘Manny Vainatolo, skipper of the SS Pacifica. So you’re the famous Chief Reuben Money. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
The Chief grinned. ‘Whatever you’ve heard isn’t true. Or at least not all of it, and even if it is true, no-one can prove anything.’
The Chief took his hand and shook it. He noted the grip was firm without being crushing, even though the hands were big and square. These were working hands that had seen honest toil. Engineers hands.
The hand shake came with a meeting of eyes and the Chief’s gaze was met by a steady, unblinking stare of big brown eyes that had seen a lot.
In his line of business the Chief had always known that you can tell a lot from the small things. From his first few seconds of speaking to Vainatolo he gathered that this man would be no push-over. He needed to be treated with respect.
Manny was sizing the Chief up in exactly the same way, even though there was little to discover: The Chiefs reputation preceded him. ‘Your man tells me you have a business proposition for me?’
Chief Money nodded. ‘I won’t beat around the bush. I gather that you’re a man who looks to find a margin where he can, and that’s exactly what I do. I’ve got an investment opportunity that needs a ship and a good captain. Suffice to say that what I have planned isn’t strictly legal, but the outcome could result in significant financial gains without us having to steal, lie or cheat.’
The dark brown eyes never wavered. ‘Sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?’
The Chief smiled confidently. ‘Not a catch, just a degree of investment on your part. Your ship’s engines will need to be modified a little for what I’ve got in mind.’
Manny didn’t look keen. ‘Modified? How?’
‘I won’t go into details, but with the inclusion of a couple of the drive coils from the scout that you’ve just recovered, we can change the performance of your vessel.’
Manny smiled. ‘So you need my ship, and the coils from my salvage?’
The Chief smiled too. The guy was a businessman after his own heart. ‘Yeah, I can see where you’re going, but to make this work, we also need the technical knowledge I can provide and a stake for a business investment. I suspect you aren’t in a position to provide either.’
Manny shrugged. He knew there was no point in lying about such things; the Chief was a smart man. ‘Fair enough. But if this is an investment, what guarantees do I have that I’ll get paid?’
‘I’m happy to take the financial risk for this operation. I’ll pay you up front for your time and the hire of your ship and I’ll provide the staff to carry out the modifications and also staff to navigate. The modifications will take about a week, the trip will take about a week or maybe two, so I figure twenty thousand credits ought to cover your costs and encourage you not to mention this to anyone else.’
That was a huge amount for a man who was clearly living on the edge, but Manny never flinched. ‘But I’m still risking my own safety and that of my ship. I figure that’s worth a little more than flat fee. I’ll take the twenty thousand and 10% of any profits.’
The Chief smiled. He liked this guy. Firm but fair. ‘Twenty thousand, you get to keep the modifications when the mission is done and we treat this as a test run. If everything goes to plan, we’re in a partnership, and we split risk and reward eighty-twenty on future investments.’
Manny straightened up and weighed the risks. He knew nothing significant about what was on offer other than it not being strictly legal. However, he felt he could trust the Chief on the matter of there being no theft and no lying involved. This was a big thing for Manny: he considered himself to be an honest man.
Truth be told, he wasn’t in a position to turn the Chief down: the Pacifica was on her last legs, and he was struggling to get the cash to keep her going. Twenty thousand would go a long way to getting her fixed up properly, and if he could secure a steady stream of income he’d be able to keep her going for as long as he liked. As long as he lasted.
The entrepreneur in him couldn’t be held in check. ‘Sounds good, but it’s still my ship and I don’t expect to be at your beck and call. If you want my ship at your disposal, I think sixty-forty is a fairer split.’
Chief rubbed his chin. ‘That’s a push as I’ll be providing all the financial muscle, the data and the contacts that’ll make it work. Seventy-thirty is as far as I’ll go.’
Knowing that the offer from the Chief was firm and final, Manny held his hand out. ‘Seems fair. When do you want to start?’
The Chief shook his hand again. ‘I’ve got a couple of things to sort out at my end, but I expect to have some guys here to carry out the mods the day after tomorrow.’
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Returning to Tiger, Chief Money headed straight down to the Engineering Deck. He entered the deck and made a bee-line for the point where the stanchions that joined the engines to the main hull terminated.
Dangling half-way out of one of the access ways into the stanchion, the Chief saw a pair of legs. ‘Joey? Joey Vitalli?’
The Chief didn’t need to see Vitalli’s reaction to sense the sudden trepidation. Without moving a muscle, the man in the tube lied ‘Oh, hi Chief. I was just on my way up to see you.’
‘That’s good Joey: your account is getting a little out of hand.’
‘Um, yeah. But I’m good for it Chief! I’ll pay you back, every credit of it, I swear.’
The Chief could almost smell his fear, and decided to crank the pressure up a little more. ‘That’s what you told me last month Joey. You know how this works: all debts to be settled on payday. Debts not settled are subject to minor interest charges.’
There was a moment’s hesitation which the Chief assumed was Joey working out whether to try his luck about the matter of interest charges.
Some of the Chief’s clientele found the 25% per month interest rate a little excessive, although strangely very few of them ever mentioned this when they asked the Chief for credit in the first place. None of them ever questioned it once PO ‘Arry Winston and some of Chief Money’s more muscular employees came and explained things to them.
The Chief sighed theatrically, making sure it was loud enough for Joey to hear.
‘Joey, Joey, Joey . . . you really shouldn’t keep betting on things when your luck is out. I’m a reasonable man, but when you stack up over a thousand credits of debt, you’re putting me in an awkward position. Much as it pains me, I can’t afford to let money like that slide, Joey!’ he lied.
‘I know Chief, but that’s a whole month’s wages. I can’t give it all up, I’ve got bills to pay back home’ Joey wailed.
‘I appreciate that Joey, but I’ve got other things to consider. What would happen if everybody suddenly decided they didn’t want to pay me? I’ve got bills to pay too, Joey’ he lied again.
There was an awkward silence and eventually the Chief lowered his voice. ‘Ok Joey, I’ve said my piece. I doubt PO Winston and his Heavy Gang will have as much to say when they visit you . . . ‘
‘But Chief, I’ll find the money somehow. I promise I will!’ squealed Vitalli.
The Chief smiled. This was going to be easy. ‘Look, Joey, I like you. You’re a decent guy and you’re one of my favourite customers. Because it’s you, I’m sure we can come to some agreement.’
‘Yes Chief, of course we can! You know me Chief, I always pay eventually!’
Joey clambered down from the stanchion and Chief Money could see the desperation in his eyes first hand.
Going into full thespian mode, the Chief paced up and down the deck pensively while stroking his chin. As he reached the far end of his track, he span around smiling and clicked his fingers.
‘Hey, I’ve just had a great idea!’
He saw Joey’s face light up and suppressed his own smile as he laid out his offer.
‘There’s a little tug in orbit just astern of us and the skipper needs some work doing on his engines. Why don’t we get you to carry out
the work when you’re off duty, and instead of him paying you, he can pay me.’
Joey looked a hopeful, but uncertain. ‘Are you sure he’ll be ok with that Chief?’
‘He’s a reasonable guy. I’m sure I can persuade him to buy in. As I said, I like you Joey . . . ‘
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The Chief’s next objective was a little trickier to achieve, but like all businessmen of his ilk since time immemorial, Chief Money knew that achieving any goal was just about applying the right leverage in the right place.
He found Petty Officer Park in the Computer Core compartment, just forward of the Main Engineering Deck. Park looked up as the door opened and immediately said ‘I don’t work for you anymore Chief!’
Chief Money sighed to himself. That in itself was a great pity. Park was an absolute genius with computers, and losing him to the engineers had left a sizable gap in the skill set of his own team. He reminded himself that it was probably only fair: Park had spent years trying to move out of the Supply team and it was only his own persistent manoeuvring that had kept Park in place.
Money gave his most reassuring smile. ‘Relax Park, I’m here to do you a favour.’
Park looked even more nervous. ‘Favours’ from the Chief were not always welcome, and they always had a cost, welcome or not.
‘Er, I’m good thanks, Chief.’
‘That’s not what I hear, Park’ suggested the Chief. ‘I heard that the Captain wants you to get the ship’s computer back up to spec, but that you’ve hit a few problems.’
Park looked uncomfortable and the Chief knew he’d hit the nail on the head. The little Korean was struggling with a unique and incredibly complicated computer, but he wouldn’t willingly admit that to anyone, least of all the Chief.
The Chief smiled a familiar, knowing, infuriating smile. ‘Of course, getting the thing working again would probably be a lot easier if you had a copy of the original personality matrix.’
Park looked wary. ‘It would, but Susan lost elements of her personality matrix when she was connected to the Tana battleship. She was more stable afterwards, but had lost quite a bit of the technical ingenuity she was designed to have.’