by Chris Hechtl
“Sure. First you have to understand pirates. They are all thieves, liars, murderers, and rapists. They will gladly smile and take your stuff and then kill you; you can't trust ‘em. The word of a pirate is worthless.”
“I see.” She frowned ferociously, looking pointedly down at Molly. He nodded, catching the hint. No more needed to be said about the gory details.
“Some like the Don have spies who spot cargoes he'll want and report to him. He usually gets what he wants.”
“I see…” Rebecca said slowly.
“So, if you’re hauling something, it's best not to advertise it. Same with people. I know you want to brag about how good we are, but that's just asking for trouble. Big ass target on the Duck.”
“I…see. I hadn't thought of it in that light.”
“Yeah. Negative publicity.”
“Ah.”
“Some ships hand over their cargo. I'd think it'd be to save their lives; sometimes the Don is smart and lets them go. Witnesses are bad; they can identify you in court. But too many dead ships and people start getting antsy and they call the navy in. He doesn't want that. As he said, 'tis better to shear a sheep repeatedly then eat lamb.'”
“Ah,” Rebecca said thoughtfully. That sounded a lot like a business maxim. “Smart. I wonder where he got it from.”
“I'm not sure.”
“When did you hear it? When did you meet him, Baloo?” she asked. He damn near fell into her beautiful eyes when she batted her lashed at him like that.
He frowned. “I got caught twice. Both times sucked. I dumped the cargo and scooted the second time. He radioed 'Next time Baloo. Next time will be your last,' and then laughed. I swear that coyote is part Hyena.”
“Right.”
“Actually, he's part Dingo,” Kit said. They glanced at the cub who shrugged and picked at the cheesy fries. He liked the bacon, so did Molly. But the potatoes were a bit much. “He talks with that horrible accent though.”
“French.”
“Something like that. All oooh and stuff,” Kit said with a sniff.
“He's got his reasons for not making too many waves. He warns those he lets go not to advertise it or he'll be back for them. They file a report only when they have to. Some don't even try for the insurance.”
“I see.”
“Besides, widows and orphans tend to want revenge. The Don's smart enough to avoid that sort of thing as much as he can.”
“True,” Rebecca said. Baloo reached for the fries, but Rebecca slapped his paw away. He rubbed it with a hurt look. She shook her finger at him.
“OW!” she glared. He hunched his shoulders. “Yeah, I know, the diet,” he grumbled.
“Too right!”
He shook his hand paw as the cubs snickered. He let out a long suffering sigh, then frowned. “Where were we?”
“The pirates?”
“Don thinks he's all that. A romantic, fighting for honor or whatever sells this week. He keeps it going because it gets his crew going and it looks good to the public. He occasionally does a good deed, which wipes away a lot of the problems he's caused.”
“Um…”
“Trust me, he has, but it's all calculated. But back to the original thing, yeah, he makes arrangements with some ships. They meet up, dump the cargo; then he shoots the ship up just enough to make it look believable. Then they come into port with a scary sob story.”
“They are in the clear, he gets the loot, and they get a kickback,” Kit added with a nod. “I know, I saw it on the Vulture.” She took a sip of soda.
“Damn, that's dreadful! Think of the people who lost their goods! They could go out of business if they lost inventory!”
“Hell of a risk yeah I know. And even worse when they set you up. Trust me. Been there, done that.”
“Oh?”
“A story for a later time,” Baloo said, pointedly looking at Molly. Rebecca took the hint. She pulled a hairbrush out of her purse and went to work on the cub's ruffled and tangled fur. “But…But here? Here is something else.”
“Oh?” Rebecca stopped brushing Molly's fur and looked up.
“Right up your alley, Becky,” Baloo said.
The brush stilled. She turned angry exasperated eyes on the bear. “I told you don't call me that!" She growled. “It's Miss Cunningham!”
“Okay, Beckers,” Baloo said, smirking. She growled. “It's business,” he said in a saucy voice, knowing it would get her interest.
She blinked, suddenly confused. “Oh?”
“Sure, see the pilots?” he pointed to half the pilots. They all looked uniform. She looked around then at him and quirked her ears and an eyebrow.
“So?”
“So, notice some are similar?”
“Um, yeah. Now that you mention it…” she noticed many of the pilots wore leather jackets with similar markings. She'd read about clubs, but this was pushing it. There was an image of a tiger on the back of one…it looked strangely familiar. She couldn't quite make the red lettering out though. She did note that most of the crew were cats. Many were domestic black cats. She wondered how much bad luck it would be to cross their paths.
“Khan freight and industries. Shere Khan.”
Rebecca's eyes went wide in wonder. Her breath caught. “The…”
Baloo nodded. “The tiger of industry. Yes, he makes it, then hauls it to where you want it. He's also a titan of banking too; he was the one who sold the note on the Duck,” the bear said, sounding bitter. “After he promised he never would. So much for that,” he grumbled softly.
“Nice slogan.”
“It's his. He even trademarked it.”
“You seem to have some issues with him.”
“Yes, him. Old…well, I wouldn't call him friend or enemy. Um…frenemy. We've met,” Baloo replied as he shrugged again. Kit stared at him. So did Rebecca. “He and I served together a looong time ago.”
“You…you have?" Rebecca sat back, stunned. She'd briefly tried to get in internship with Khan Industries when she first went to business school. She'd been turned down flat. They weren't quite racist. They hired Neocats most of the time, but they did occasionally take on a Neo of exceptional qualities. They'd snootily pointed out she didn't have those qualities. That had rankled deeply.
“Yeah, and I'm not name dropping, there is a point to this. See, you noticed the gauntlet is a big thing right? A lot of freight moving back and forth, premium rates right?”
Rebecca nodded. “Yes, of course, I modeled my business on that. It is why I am here,” she said.
“I know. And you know now why it's so high; the Gauntlet is dangerous enough to run. Throw in pirates, stiff competition, the occasional sabotage, accident, or solar storm…and well…”
Rebecca frowned. “Yes. I see that now,” she said softly. She had known there were risks, but with risks came big rewards, if they kept at it.
“So why doesn't the navy come in and kick ‘em out?” Kit asked.
Baloo shook his head. “Bad for business,” Baloo said, picking his teeth with a toothpick. Rebecca stared at him.
“Think about it. Sure, insurance is through the roof, but for someone like Khan, he's making tons of credits.”
“Ah. Crap.”
“Not just hauling freight but also industry. He's got it all sewn up in this sector. Just about everything has to go through his hands, either as raw material, manufactured, or hauled to a store or paid for with a bank loan. Which is why this area has so few replicators. Everything has to be hauled in. And guess who benefits?”
“I…see.”
“Right. There are a ton of colonies on the other side of the gauntlet. Some need emergency supplies, goods, people, whatever. So, they get us to haul it,” Loi added. “Hey, you going to eat that?” he asked, pointing a long finger under Molly's nose. She looked cross eyed at it until he flipped it up to flick her nose. She giggled, clutching at her nose. He grinned and took a long fry. Rebecca went to object but Baloo lightly kicked her shin.
She glared at him, momentarily distracted.
“Okay.”
“They could have a couple big ass freighters do the job, but there isn't enough cargo to justify it. Small fry like us make the run fast. A lumbering freighter would have to be loaded to the gills to do the job, which could take months,” Baloo explained.
“Ah.”
“Khan owns the warehouses too, or most of them. I don't think you can throw a rock and not hit a business somewhere that doesn't have his hooks in it.”
“Lovely,” Rebecca sighed. “I can't compete with it.”
“Who's competing? If you can't beat ‘em, join ‘em. Or do like me, find a niche,” Loi said, waving to the bar and the station at large. Rebecca got a thoughtful look on her face.
“Khan's not all bad; he knows monopolies aren't in his long-term interest. If he got a full monopoly, the feds would come in and sniff around and likely bust him up or fine him. He doesn't want that. He's got thousands of lobbyists doing their best to avoid it, but he also knows he can't stifle competition. You never know when it might help you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, oh,” Loi said, taking another fry and sucking it in between his big lips. Molly giggled, hands over her mouth. He tickled her. She shrieked a laugh, twisting and turning in her child seat.
“So, Khan keeps things down for the rest of us. He tolerates the competition up to a point. He knows better than to suck it all up, but he has a small interest in a lot of the freighters here, whether they like it, know it, or not.” He looked up to see Loi had swung over to the bar and had picked up a tray. He came back over, waddling on his short stumpy legs, holding the tray over his head.
“Right,” Loi said, nodding as he put the drinks down. “Khan's got this sector all sewed up. He's keeping the navy away so the pirates get to play. I wouldn't put it past him to have an in with them too.”
“I…see,” Rebecca said. She realized she was getting quite an education from people she had looked down on. Now she realized she needed it. She rather regretted impulsively getting into the freight business without looking deeper. She'd been so sure of herself! So sure a guiding hand was all that was needed. A bit of investment, a bit of luck…she frowned.
“Politics and business, Beckers. Ugly. I'll stick to flying.”
“But, they can't do that; I mean, what about his own ships?” Rebecca asked, looking from Baloo to Loi.
Loi shook his head. “They are armed. They are also faster; they have corporate maintenance and stuff. Sure they want to keep them in space as much as possible, but they know what they are doing. They can get parts in bulk too.”
“Now, you get people like you, start-ups. Tons who see the lucrative creds, get greedy and want to run the gauntlet to make creds. Creds you have to pay for insurance and other stuff. Noticed fuel and parts are pricy?”
“Hey, you saying…” Loi protested. Baloo waved a hand.
“Power down, Loi, I know you aren't gouging much. Everyone’s doing it. You have a business to run. If your supplier goes up, you have to pass it on.”
“True.”
“I see.”
“Becky, did you ever study the gold rushes?” Baloo asked. She shook her head no. She was surprised the seemingly slobbish uneducated bear did. “Then do so. You’ll see something right there. Most of the people got in, got what they could, but ended up leaving without a cent.”
“Um…Then why…”
“Or they died. The outfitters, the whores, the people supporting the miners, they made out. And of course the bandits,” Loi added.
She blinked. “Oh.”
“Next you'll want to get her in competition with me!” Loi said in disgust. He grabbed a hanging cable and swung off in disgust.
Rebecca had a thoughtful look. “You know, we could do in-flight refueling…”
“No,” Baloo said firmly as he could.
Rebecca frowned in thought. “It could work, service with a smile…”
“No. Not only no, hell no.”
<-----/^----->
Rebecca took it upon herself to buy parts for Duck. They had to have the synchronizer; it linked the two engines together and kept them running in tune. It was more than just a computer; it was critical to the Duck's function. Without it they were dead.
The problem was there weren't that many out there; Space Ducks weren't common. She was annoyed with the seemingly menial task; she didn't believe Baloo when he quoted her a price. “Outrageous!” she snarled, stomping, fists clenched. “I'll give them a piece of my mind,” she growled sternly. After she found out on the net, Baloo had been telling her the truth she went to negotiate but found the parts shops unmoved by her persuasion.
She finally went back to Baloo frustrated. “It's because I'm a woman, right?” he shook his head. “No, of course not. It's because I'm not a spacer.” He nodded slowly, tipping his hat back. “So? Now what?” she demanded, flopping down in her bucket seat. She winced, the padding was about flattened from Baloo's bulk.
“Struck out?” he asked. “Couldn't get it so gave up?”
“You guessed it,” she said, rubbing her temples, then holding her nose. “I flat out refuse to pay those prices; we can't afford it. What is that…”
“Smell? Wiring melted into the deck. Wildcat and Mowgli are scraping it out now.”
“Ah.”
“It's what you get when you push maintenance too hard. I usually give Wildcat some money, and he finds what we need. Usually in a scrap heap. Which is an issue but he has a magical touch.” He shrugged. “I don't ask questions about his priorities, though I do give him a list. Sometimes he sticks to it, sometimes not.”
“That's…” Rebecca looked up in concern. “Unsafe. Molly rides on the Duck. I ride on the Duck! This whole ship is just waiting to fall apart!”
“Wildcat is a genius, Becky, relax. He can spot a problem part before he buys it. Some need a rebuild; some are good. But he also has some ties with the black market, so I'm a bit iffy about turning him loose. He's naive as hell.” Baloo shook his head and then winced at the clatter and cat yowl. “He's not happy about the damage. He's been on to me about fixing that relay bank and the synchronizer for a while now.”
“And you didn't because…”
“Money doesn't grow on trees?” Baloo asked, eyebrow raised. Reluctantly she nodded in agreement. Many people just thought all you had to do was shake the money tree and you could get anything you wanted. It was a very juvenile viewpoint. “Besides, I had a choice, the relays or fuel. Guess what?”
“Make money or…there are no easy answers, I get it,” Rebecca moaned, hands over her face. “So what do we do?” she asked, not looking up.
“Give the cat his head and see what he turns up. I'll put a call in to Loi and the pilot network.”
“Okay.”
“Kit might be involved, I don't know.”
“Okay.”
<-----/^----->
Wildcat and Kit went shopping. They went to get parts for the ship from the machinist’s market but were chased out of the market by two human hoods. They took the long route back to the Duck, avoiding a suspicious black car in the park nearby.
“What's going on?” Baloo asked.
“No time for questions, gotta go,” Kit said anxiously, looking over his shoulder.
“Trouble?”
“Yes, let's go!” Kit said, pushing Baloo inside as the dark car crept closer to the dock.
Baloo frowned and then went and yanked the mooring lines off. “Get the aft one, Kit, then we can high tail it out of here. Don't get in a tail spin; we need to keep a straight head.”
“Roger, papa bear.”
“You got the flight plan worked out?” Baloo asked as he quickly worked. He got frustrated and snapped the four centimeter thick rope with his claws and brute strength.”
“Aye aye, skipper.”
“File it. Then prep the Duck. You know it now, right?”
“I've got it,” Kit said, finishing h
is end as a pair of hoods, humans by the look of them, got out of the car. Others followed. Baloo looked up to see them as Kit leapt into the ship.
“Okay, Wildcat better be on the ball, here we go,” Baloo said, pushing the Duck off with a foot. He jumped the gap as his ship drifted away from the pier. He barely made it, belly flopping on the deck. His legs kicked him over the knee knocker, scraping at the hull. “Damn that hurt,” he rasped, rubbing at his sore tummy.
“Come on, Baloo!” Kit said from the cockpit. “Coming,” Baloo said, struggling to breathe. “I'm getting too old for this shit. Maybe Becky was right about losing the weight,” he grunted, getting to his feet.
“What's going on?” Rebecca demanded, coming out of the captain's cabin.
“No time to talk, got to go,” Baloo said, squeezing past her.
“Well, someone better tell me something!” she demanded, stomping her foot. She saw Kit come out of the cockpit and hurry past her to the engineering deck. “Kit! What happened?” she demanded.
“No time to talk, Miss Cunningham; we've got to move!” he said. “Trouble on the pier!” he waved a hand.
She went to the hatch and peered out in time to see two thugs running up the wooden dock. The smaller one tried to jump on the wing but it was bobbing around too much. He missed and ended up in the water. His partner tried to help him, momentarily forgetting about their objective.
“What's going on?” Rebecca asked. “Someone tell me something!” She stomped off to the engineer's quarters.
Wildcat had the hatch door open. He was busy, bent over the parts he had. He was muttering to himself in a sing song voice. It went up and down the register, making her wince. He screwed his eyes up and had his tongue out as he delicately turned a screwdriver.
“We're repairing as we go. I'll take my time getting to the take-off point,” Baloo said over the intercom. “Roger tower, taxi commencing. A bit of chop so we're taking her slow over.”
“What was that about?” Baloo demanded once the radio conversation with the tower ended. They could hear engine one spooling up. There was a soft thrum. It wouldn't do them any good though, Engine two was out of synch. They needed them in synch, or the ship would tear itself apart.