by John Scalzi
“Oh, I am entirely certain that you do,” Kiva replied. “You were planning to leave the planet and never come back. You’re going to have to start somewhere else, where you have no franchise and no assurance of having prospects. The only way you and your family will survive long enough to generate those prospects is with a heaping pile of ready cash.” She stopped and considered Donher. “I’m going to guess you’ve probably got ten or fifteen million marks in a personal data crypt right now.” She pointed. “It might even be in that vest pocket right there. Am I wrong?”
Donher said nothing to this.
Kiva nodded. “Then back to business. Four million to let you out of your franchise obligations.”
“Yes, Lady Kiva.” Donher bowed, signaling that he assumed the deal had been struck.
“We’re not done,” Kiva said. “How many people are you bringing with you?”
“Myself, my wife, and our children. My wife’s mother. Two servants.”
“How many children?”
“Three. Two girls and a boy.”
“What a nice family. A half a million marks for each person we transport.”
Kiva watched the color march back into Donher’s face. “That’s outrageous!” he finally managed to sputter.
“Probably,” Kiva admitted. “But I don’t care. Your little family unit will be with us for nine months while we travel to Hub. That’s nine months of food, of oxygen, of space, on our ship.”
“That’s another four million marks!”
“Your math skills are impressive, Donher.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“Oh, well.”
“Surely we can come to some accommodation, my lady.”
Kiva laughed. “I’m sorry, did you think this was a negotiation? It’s not. You want off the planet. These are my rates. If you don’t like them, you’re welcome to look elsewhere. I understand the Tell Me Another One is departing soon.”
“Actually ma’am, it’s been detained,” Magnut said. “The duke had its captain arrested. He seems to think she allowed pirates to board the ship and take a shipment of weapons.”
“Is that so.”
“Apparently the deal was originally with the executive officer, who attempted a mutiny and failed. The captain decided to follow up on the deal with the pirates anyway. Better money. Allegedly.”
“Huh.” Kiva turned back to Donher. “One less option for you, then.”
“Lady Kiva, I can offer you three million marks for passage. With the four million marks you already require, that’s more than half of what I have.”
“Then I guess you’re leaving your servants behind,” Kiva said. “Unless you were planning to take one and leave your mother-in-law behind.”
The color began to drain from Donher’s face again.
“You were!” Kiva crowed. “You were going to ditch your mother-in-law! You utter dog.”
“I was not,” Donher protested, weakly.
“A word of advice for you, Donher. With that face of yours, you shouldn’t play cards with anyone on this ship. You’ll end up in debt. So, we’re up to seven million marks. You planning to bring anything with you? Any cargo?”
“If you’ll allow it, ma’am.”
“Of course I’ll allow it. One thousand marks a kilo, and I’ll collect a half million marks up front to allocate the cargo space. Any mass allowance you don’t use, we’ll refund.”
Donher had learned by this point not to argue. “Yes, ma’am.”
She pointed to Magnut. “Gazson will collect before you leave here and otherwise make arrangements. All of it, in full. We depart in five days. Gazson will give you the exact time. If you and your family aren’t on the ship twelve hours prior to that moment, you all stay here, and we keep the money. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then we’re done. Go back to the floor of the hold and wait there for Gazson.”
Donher bowed and left. Magnut closed the door behind him. “That was impressive, ma’am,” he said to Kiva, after Donher was back on the hold floor.
Kiva snorted again. Then, “What did we learn here today, Gazson?”
“That Sivouren Donher really wants off the planet?”
“We learned that he wants off the planet badly enough to pay seven and a half million marks for it,” Kiva said. “And that means there are other people like him who are willing to pay just as much as he is, if not more so.”
“Are you thinking of taking on more refugees, ma’am?”
“Refugees? No. Exiles? Yes.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Roughly half a million marks per head, Gazson.”
“Ah. So we are running a cruise line, then.”
Kiva smirked and pointed down at Donher, standing forlornly once more near a stack of haverfruit crates. “We just bagged seven and a half million marks off this one dumb bastard,” she said. “That’s twelve and a half percent of our financial loss for this entire fucking trip, erased. A few more like him and we’ll actually make it into the black. That’s worth putting up with their entitled asses for a few months.”
Magnut motioned toward Donher with his head. “That one’s actually got travel documents for his family and servants. Not everyone who wants to go with us and can afford it will have those documents. Even if they were allowed to leave, most government offices are closed, so they wouldn’t be able to get them.”
“This is our problem?”
“When we get to Hub and unload these … exiles, if they don’t have travel documents, we can get fined for illegal conveyance. So, yes, it could be our problem.”
“We can only be fined if they can prove we knew they weren’t allowed to travel, right?”
“Sort of,” Magnut said. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“But basically,” Kiva said. “If they have travel documents and they just happen to turn out to be fake, but we weren’t able to tell, then the house can probably get those fines dismissed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kiva raised her eyebrows, signaling to Magnut without incriminating words ever being spoken that he should find and procure the services of someone who could make passable faked travel documents on an expedited basis, to make sure these forgers charged an outrageous amount for them, of which the House of Lagos would take a “finder’s fee” cut, and that, of course, if the forged documents were ever to be traced back to them, Magnut himself would take the fall rather than implicate Kiva and by extension the House of Lagos.
Magnut’s heavy sigh and curt nod signaled that he understood this perfectly well.
“Then send out the word that we’re accepting exiles. If they want on the ship they better hurry. And they better bring cash.”
* * *
A lot of exiles did want on the ship. And they were happy to bring cash.
Not all of them were the financial windfall of Sivouren Donher, of course. Not everyone was planning to bring a family of five with hangers-on. But they added up: the single exiles, the couples and occasional families of three or four, all at half a million marks a head, plus cargo charges, plus documents, plus additional sums if the refugees were Lagos franchisees or business associates, which many were because Kiva told Magnut to screen for those and to give them preferential treatment.
Within two days, Kiva was within five million marks of going into the black for the trip. “I’m a fucking financial genius,” she said, to Captain Blinnikka, back on the Yes, Sir.
“Or you’re war profiteering,” Blinnikka said.
“I’m not selling anything to the combatants,” Kiva said, taken aback, but then trying to shrug it off with some light snark. “I’m offering a service to those who wish to leave the theater of combat. That makes me a humanitarian, actually. I’m saving people.”
“For half a million marks each.”
“I didn’t say I was a bleeding heart about it.”
“Whatever you say.”
“We mi
ght finish this trip making a profit,” Kiva pointed out. “You don’t object to that.”
“No,” Blinnikka admitted. “Even a small loss will be a win for us given the circumstances. I won’t lose my command. You won’t lose face in front of your mother and the House of Lagos. What you’re doing makes sound financial sense.”
“But.”
“There’s no but. You’re right. It’s just a reminder that war favors the rich. The ones who can leave, do. The ones who can’t, suffer.”
Kiva was silent for a moment. Then, “Fuck you for having a conscience, Tomi.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kiva’s tablet pinged; it was Gazson Magnut. “You’re about to have a visitor,” he said when Kiva connected.
“Who is it?”
“A Lord Ghreni Nohamapetan. He says you know him.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Kiva said. “What does that abject pile of shit want?”
“I think it has something to do with your exile plan. He was asking questions about it, anyway.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that he would need to bring it up with you. He got snitty about it and tried to pull rank with me, at which point I started quoting Interdependency trade regulations at him until he got frustrated and left me alone. He turned to his flunky and told her to get him a shuttle to take him to the Yes, Sir. He’ll be there presently.”
“Got it,” Kiva said, and closed the connection. She turned to the captain. “Ready to do some space lawyering?”
Blinnikka smiled. “Of course.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
* * *
“Lady Kiva,” Ghreni Nohamapetan said, once the shuttle bay had run through its cycle and put air back into the space. “So lovely to see you again.”
“Is it?” Kiva said.
“As far as you know, yes.” Ghreni nodded to the captain. “You are Captain Blinnikka, I assume.”
“Yes, my lord.” Blinnikka bowed.
Ghreni did a quick head bow in return and then focused on Kiva. “We should talk privately,” he said.
“About what?”
“About your profit-taking on refugees.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“The duke disagrees.”
“Captain,” Kiva said, to Blinnikka.
“My lord, the Interdependency is quite clear on the rights of refugees during wartime and the leeway ships and their crew have in offering assistance to them. Indeed, it’s one of the core rights of the Interdependency, handed down by the Prophet herself.”
Ghreni gave a humorless smile to this. “That’s a lovely sentiment, Captain, obviated by the fact that you’re charging a half million marks a head for passage.”
“Actually, the captain and I were just talking about the plight of the less advantaged,” Kiva said.
“You?” Ghreni said, disbelieving.
“One, fuck you, and two, yes.” Kiva looked over to Blinnikka. “Isn’t that right?”
“There had been some discussion, yes.”
“And I suppose now you’re going to tell me that you charging half a million a head to leave End is meant to subsidize the poor you will also take on as a gesture of your concern for their plight.”
“Maybe. I suppose that’s hard for you to believe, Ghreni, but then, you’ve always been a condescending little shit.”
“There was a time when you saw that as an endearing quality, Lady Kiva.” Ghreni turned his attention to the captain. “Laws concerning refugees notwithstanding, you are aware that End has special status in the Interdependency. Many people here can’t just leave. They are here on End for a reason.”
“Our chief purser is well aware of the special nature of End and some of its citizens,” Blinnikka said. “We won’t take anyone from the planet who is not allowed to leave.”
“You don’t mind if we double-check that,” Ghreni said.
“Of course not,” Blinnikka said. “I am sure the imperial customs office here on End will supply you whatever information you desire.”
“The duke would prefer to examine your passenger manifest directly.”
Blinnikka shook his head. “Apologies, my lord, but by Interdependency regulation that information must come through a request to the customs office, not from the ship directly.”
“Surely you may accommodate the duke as a courtesy.”
“Are you asking my captain to go against Interdependency law?” Kiva said.
“There is substantial overlap between the duke’s interests and Interdependency law.”
“As I am well fucking aware, thanks to your duke’s embargo of my cargo. But in this case there’s not, is there, Captain?”
“No, my lady,” Blinnikka said.
“Well, then.” Kiva looked at Ghreni, steadily.
“As long as I’m here, I would love to see some of the ship,” Ghreni said, after a moment.
“You want a fucking tour,” Kiva said.
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Because three days out from departure we don’t have better things to do than indulge your whims.”
“You really don’t.”
“This is your subtle attempt to talk with me alone, yes?”
Ghreni held his hands open, as if to say, You got me.
Kiva nodded and turned to Blinnikka. “I’m taking him to the production floor. If I need you again to spout imperial law at him, I’ll call.”
Blinnikka nodded and left.
“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Kiva said, and motioned to Ghreni to follow her.
The shuttle bay was at the aft of the main body of the Yes, Sir, a long, segmented needle, off from which branched two separate rings, which held the farming and processing modules, among others. Each rotated to provide a baseline .5 standard G, with push fields employed to bring the internal effective gravity to 1 G. Variations could be employed within individual modules and areas for production and other purposes.
As Ghreni noted when they entered an agricultural module. “I’m bouncier in here.”
Kiva nodded. “Haverfruit grow best at .8 G, so that’s what these modules are kept at.”
“End is slightly over 1 G. Were you going to tell the people you licensed to about that?”
“It’s not like it won’t grow at that gravity,” Kiva said. “It’ll grow just fine. And they’d be growing them off of actual haverfruit bushes rather than the hydroponic setup we’re using here.” She motioned to the growing racks, densely packed with lights and fruits arising out of the growth medium. “If you have anything on End, it’s acreage. Not that it matters, thanks to the fucking duke.”
“To be fair, the House of Lagos let loose a virus that wiped out a staple crop.”
“To be fair, you can go fuck yourself because we had nothing to do with that and you know it.”
“I’ve missed you, Kiva. You and your marvelous way with the word ‘fuck.’”
“No you haven’t, but thank you anyway.”
Ghreni motioned to the haverfruit. “So what will you do with all of this?”
“Follow me to the next module and find out.”
The next ring module was a processing module, set to 1.1 G for efficiency.
“You’re juicing them,” Ghreni said, looking.
Kiva nodded. “Juicing, concentrating, making fruit pastes from the remains, all that shit. Not that we’ll be able to do much with them directly. It doesn’t make sense for us to compete against our franchisees. We thought about it, but we’d just make them upset. So when I get back to Hub we’ll see if we can sell it as surplus to the imperial government. They’ll distribute it as part of their food assistance to poor families, or whatever, and the House of Lagos will get a tax deduction.”
“So you’ll finish the trip just fine, is what you’re saying.”
“It’s a maybe. If the imperial government doesn’t shove this shit into its food assistance program, we’re on the hook for all of it
.”
“I’m sure the Lagos accountants are clever enough to find a way to bury the loss. Combine that with the extortion you’re wrenching out from the people trying to leave End, you might even eke out a profit.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“Not at all. What are the guild houses if they don’t make money? That is their point. Your point. My point.”
“You haven’t actually come to your point yet,” Kiva said.
“Then here’s my point, Kiva: The duke is concerned about some of the people you might be transporting off the planet.”
“Okay. So what?”
“Some of them are people who are of interest to the duke, for various reasons.”
“This is where I say ‘so what’ again.”
“So, if certain people try to buy passage from you, the duke wants to know.”
Kiva laughed at this. “You have to be fucking kidding me, Ghreni. The duke is the reason I’m resorting to making fruit paste and taking on rich assholes as cargo.”
“The duke asks it as a favor, one noble to another.”
“The duke can fuck himself with a loaded shotgun.”
Ghreni nodded again. “I thought you might say that. So I’ve also been authorized to offer you a bribe.”
“For what?”
“For letting us know if certain people try to book passage on your ship. And for telling us where to find them if they do.”
“I’m asking for a lot of money for passage,” Kiva said.
“The duke is willing to match what you’re charging as the reward.”
“Match, hell. If he wants my cooperation, it starts at two million marks per person.”
“That doesn’t strike you as perhaps a lot to ask?”
“The duke screwed me out of sixty million marks at least, so, no, in fact, it doesn’t strike me as a lot to ask.”
“One million marks per person.”
“Look at you, Ghreni, acting like I actually need something from you.”
“The duke could decide to make your departure difficult.”
“Is he going to have my captain arrested, like he did with the Tell Me Another One?”