Multiverse 1

by Chris Hechtl

  The XO had tried to negotiate and make a deal with the Halced government for the three days it had taken them to cross the system to reach orbit. Diplomacy, however, was rough; they didn't have any common ground to build up off of. Not only that but the recruiters that the freighter Mariah’s Mischief was supposed to have dropped off weren't responding to a hail. The native's communications officer curtly informed them that the request to remain in the system by the recruiters had been denied. MM had apparently kept them on board and moved on to her next stop months ago.

  The natives were descendants of employees of a subsidiary of Lagroose industries at one point. Many of the humans called themselves highlanders for some strange reason. They wore plaid kilts and spoke English with a thick accent. Some had originally been born on Eden in Pyrax and had moved to Halced 6 to take up jobs in the various genetic engineering and terraforming projects of the time.

  The planet had been terraformed, but with a twist. In order to generate tourism, the subsidiary had commissioned dinosaurs to be reconstructed from Terran avian DNA. Apparently such projects had been common in the early days of the founding of the Federation, but on Halced 6 they had succeeded, not just with dinosaurs, but also mammoths, other ice age mammals, and extinct animals from other worlds. They had then exported the animals to other worlds like Agnosta, Eden, Gaston, and others in the Rho sector and throughout the galaxy, putting the planet on the must-stop places for tourists to visit.

  Apparently at some time there had been some gas refineries in orbit of some of the Jovians as well as automated platforms collecting rocks for processing. None of the systems had thick enough asteroid belts to warrant industrial investment however, so it had been strictly freelance small time outfits. During the Xeno war, either the platforms and outfits had pulled out, or they'd eventually worn out and had been abandoned or destroyed. It would be interesting to see if the natives wished to revive the industry again.

  The ancestors of the modern Halced people had reverse engineered Terran birds to recreate therapods dinosaurs to not only use as racers but also for public transit and pets. They had created several lines of animals, one for water, air and land races. After the fall the races had faded as practical concerns of survival had taken hold. But over the past century the natives had gotten enough of a hold on civilization to begin rebuilding. They had brought back the race tracks. It was a planetary passion that some considered broadcasting to other systems.

  Shelby had heard about it; she'd even seen a couple videos of races when she'd been a kid. Freighters would record the races, and then sell the recordings abroad to local media outlets in other star systems. That had apparently rubbed the natives of Halced 6 the wrong way, so they banned any recording devices at races.

  “This planet…these people are stubborn. They don't want handouts, Ma'am. They have a stiff pride, almost admirable,” the XO reported. "They also don't trade on credit. Cash on the barrel head, that's a direct quote. And what's mine is mine, don't touch our system."

  “Did you offer to sell them things? Or trade for them?” The XO signaled second level of negation. “Well, then, that's our next proposal,” she said firmly.

  “Do you wish to take over, Ma'am?” he asked, sounding hopeful. “Perhaps your species would have better luck? Or your higher rank as captain?”

  Shelby shook her head. She wanted Zeb to handle the negotiations since it was good training for him. She didn't want him to give up when it got tough or didn't work out. “No, you handle it. I'll observe. If they ask, I'm busy but I can be made available,” she said. “For my sins I'll catch up on paperwork while you do it,” she said.

  The Veraxin clacked in amusement. “We have paid our port fees, Ma'am for all four ships. And the first shuttle of personnel have been cleared for ground side leave and liberty,” he reported. "I have Prometheus and the cargo master going over what we have in stock for trade. They should have a list for me shortly," he reported.

  Shelby nodded. “Good. Send Conrad down and tell him to get a handle on the natives. See what's going on and then report.”

  “Aye aye, Ma'am,” the XO said.

  <====###====[=]<==

  Shelby frowned thoughtfully as she looked at the report. There had been a few fights on the ground, drunken brawls as expected. The perpetrators would face a mast. Most were sleeping their hangovers off in the local jail or in the brig. She'd deal with them later, though she had been tempted to give them a rather loud and bright mast while they were still hung over. Prudence had made her hold back, after all, she wasn't certain if their implants could keep them from barfing all over her and her desk.

  She tapped her chin thoughtfully. Lieutenant Zeb had done his best over the past several days, and he'd come to an agreement with the natives to barter for some goods and materials. The natives were highly suspicious though, and their local government had agreed to materials like school supplies, medical gear, supplies for their hospital, and even some books for their local library. But they had stubbornly refused donations. They had also required an observer to observe any mining they did in system, and a 50 percent cut of all the materials the ship mined. They were limited to Aten asteroids that had a chance of hitting the planet. That tied her people's hands; most were sitting idle, bored or playing cards…or catching up on maintenance.

  The planet's authorities were still debating on the wisdom of satellites and other gear. There was some issues with their placement and the radiation coming from Cat's eye. She hoped they made up their minds before Prometheus broke orbit to leave.

  It was maddening really, and a little…gratifying. She had to admire that stubborn spunk. Scottish or Celtic, she made a note to look those phenotypes up. She made a side bet with herself that anyone who signed on from this planet would do well as an investigator or paper shuffler. Maybe even a JAG lawyer. They had a stubborn integrity about them a kilometer thick. They were brutal in business negotiations; Zeb had apparently picked up and passed on a joke about “pinching a penny in half.” She shook her head in wonder and amusement. She did admit, their people were known to be incorruptible. That was rare in politicians and jurists.

  Zeb had that under control so she turned to something else going on. She'd just finished wrapping up the mess on Bertha…the valves and plasma line had been rebuilt and tested. But Prometheus had come to her before she'd had time to enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet with a…she had to label it as a get rich quick scheme. That was the only thing that came to mind to her.

  Ensign Murray, Kettle and a couple of the other schemers on her ship had come to her with a proposal. It was half ass, verbal, and she seriously wondered about how they handled their duties if they came up with this pipe dream in their off time.

  “Are you serious, Conrad?” she asked. The young man nodded, smiling brightly. “Do you have…” she shook her head, cutting herself off. She took a deep breath and then let it out slow. That let him know he was on thin ground. “Do you have any idea what is involved? The legal mumbo jumbo you're going to be involved in?” she asked.

  He frowned.

  Some of the crew wanted to do industry investing on the planet with the credits they had earned while serving on the ship but Shelby refused. “Look, I get it, you've got credits to burn in your accounts. And yeah, investing in industry is a good thing, especially in our position. And normally I wouldn't involve myself in your personal finances folks, but we've got issues here. Halced 6 is ripe for expansion, but all wrong. I've gotten indicators that they will nationalize anything you invest once you are gone. You can't manage it when you are off world, and certainly not when we're out of the system! So seriously, save your creds,” she urged.

  “But what about those who have already invested? Or have been making and selling stuff?” Conrad asked. “That's not fair to the rest of us to be…” he paused when he saw her expression.

  “What others? What stuff have they been selling?” Shelby asked, voice cold. She turned to Prometheus's AI avatar. “What
others?”

  “Apparently some of the crew on leave have been using some of their spare time to make items and then bring them down in their luggage. Twice a shuttle went overweight and a passenger or two had to be bumped.”

  “Oh?” Shelby asked, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Why is this the first I've heard of this?” She asked.

  “Because the XO is handling it, Ma'am. Apparently most aren't using materials from ship stores. Nor are they making and selling things that are illegal. Apparently the Bosun suggested it to a couple of the ratings to keep them away from gambling.

  Shelby frowned thoughtfully. “You said most aren't using materials from stores. But they are using energy and the replicators?”

  “And machine shops,” Cynthia said, coming in to the conversation. “Sorry to interrupt, Skipper, but Prometheus called me in on this. Most of it is minor, name plates, tools, even some medical and shop things. We've had a couple cases of theft, the Bosun and ship's NCIS agent afloat is handling the investigations. They'll hand it off to you for a mast or court later,” she said.

  “That bad Cynthia? And why didn't you mention it?” Shelby demanded.

  “Because, we're ramping up for the squash and zero gee handball tournaments and one of the ship's best players is up to his neck in it. I'd rather he catch a mast over a court though,” she said, shaking her head. “From what I gather he thought he could replicate a new spanner set. That's what got him caught.”

  “I see,” the captain said darkly. The sports tournaments were popular with enlisted and officers alike. Betting was going on, normally casual affairs. She'd even passed on a couple bets herself. They only had the tournaments when they were in subspace like now, so they had to make the most of the time available. Honestly, she was surprised they had the time or energy to work on selling stuff along with their leave time and sports. “You should have told me, Cynthia. You're department or not, if it is effecting the ship…” she growled.

  “It isn't. We're cutting it down now. Those that were stepping over the line have had their hands slapped publicly, or will get a dressing down and a mast. That will deter others seeking their fortune.”

  “Okay…”

  “I don't like them using the ship's materials or stealing, Skipper, but if they want to make something on their own time and dime, I'm not going to complain. Besides, most of what they make is practical,” the chief engineer said. “I've been pulled in on a couple of projects,” she admitted.

  “You chief?” Shelby asked.

  Cynthia nodded. “Yeah, an engine rebuild for a fire truck restoration, and a shuttle project. Both are good for the community.”

  Shelby pursed her lips in thought. After a moment she nodded. “Okay. I'll let those go as long as the materials were replaced. I want a full inventory, and yes, land with both feet on anyone with their hands caught in the cookie jar. They should know better,” she growled. The chief engineer nodded.

  “We've got about a week before we break orbit. Make the best of it,” the captain said and then signed off.

  “You aren't going to kill it totally, Captain?” The Ensign asked, clearly surprised.

  “No,” the captain replied. “First, she's right and so is the Bosun; it's a good hobby. Second, we can't get through to these people to help them. They won't take charity, but they will take trade. But they are about done with us publicly. These small projects help the communities in other ways. And get the word out about us.”

  “I see.”

  “And yeah, you can get involved, as long as you don't take or break ship's stores. Find another way to raise capital.”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “I know we're providing educational materials and some media files. I'd like to see if I could sell vids of sports, Ma'am.”

  “Like the upcoming ship's tournaments?” The captain asked, settling down into her chair. He shrugged. “It's a thought,” she said. “But you'd have to have a venue. From what I understand, most of the people ground side are dirt poor. They don't have running water in many communities, let alone electricity.”

  “Yet they won't let us help, Ma'am?”

  “Stiff necked pride,” Shelby said, shaking her head. “I get it; they want to do it for themselves, not to be beholden to someone. Not dependent on them. Good for them. But their kids are the ones getting sick and stuff.”

  Conrad frowned. “Maybe I'll see if I can figure something else out. You know, to help the kids,” he said.

  Shelby nodded. “You do that. Pass the word around that stuff like that is okay,” she said.

  “Aye aye, Ma'am,” he said.

  “On your own time,” she warned, holding up a finger. “I catch anyone doing this crap on ship's time I'll have their balls,” she growled. He gulped but then nodded dutifully.

  <====###====[=]<==

  They left orbit with mixed feelings seven and a half days after entering orbit. “Well, so much for that,” Shelby grumped, watching the blue marble shrink behind them. “At least we refueled,” she said. They'd spent the past day refueling from Bertha, the first time they had attempted it. It had worked well in sims, but as usual, real life came with all sorts of little variables that the sims just didn't account for. Such as ice crystals forming in the mooring lines and preventing a link up. Or lines not locked down and blowing off under pressure, wasting precious fuel. Two ratings had earned a mast over that one.

  “And I never did get a chance to pin Levinson's ears back,” she grumbled. She rolled her shoulders. She would have loved to have pinned his ears back, if only to get some of her frustration and mad out with not only him, but also the stiff necked pricks ground side.

  “We could stop and do it at the jump point, Ma'am,” Zeb said hopefully.

  Shelby shook her head. “Hell no, let's get the hell out of this system. I wouldn't call them ungrateful, but I'm not going to stick around where I'm not welcome. Let's deploy the last recon sat on our way out and get out of here. The sooner the better,” she said tartly.

  “Aye aye, Ma'am.”

  “The next stop,” Shelby vowed. Twenty eight days in hyper, she thought, plenty of time to get over the bad taste in her mouth over the whole Halced affair. The Veraxin bobbed a nod.

  <====###====[=]<==

  In New Haven they went about the usual satellite drop and ion trail search. Most of the trails were old, so Shelby let the sensor and CIC shops debate it while she focused on the colony. Their initial system wide hail had been positively received by the colony. They had immediately secured permission to mine asteroids and use the fuel refinery Io 11 had thoughtfully constructed and left behind. “Take em; take as many as you want as long as you clear our orbitals and don't push anything that might fall on us later,” the Veraxin representative said. "We'd appreciate it if you focused on asteroids that are on a potential collision course with the planet first like Io 11 did."

  “Well, thank you kindly. We'll of course focus on the dangerous rocks first; there is nothing like turning something dangerous into something useful," she said with a smile. "As this is your system, we're willing to give you a cut on the rare materials we recover along with the materials we are here to make and distribute to you or give you credit you can use to purchase goods from us,” Captain Logan said, bowing slightly to the Veraxin.

  “You…I…I'll have to check with our people,” the Veraxin said, sounding excited. “We've had some terrible weather here; some of our towns and cities have been devastated by a series of hurricanes recently. Having satellite coverage to warn of potential storms…That would do a lot for us.”

  “All right, we can get started on it now,” Shelby said. She nodded to Prometheus. The AI avatar knew what to do and nodded back as he silently passed on the go signal to the boat bays. After a moment the status board lit with the space flight ops in progress icon. Tugs drifted out the locks and into space, on course to asteroids nearby. Probes followed.

  “Will you need local distribution? I know a guy. A wholesaler,”
the Veraxin chittered.

  “We're donating most of the materials to your communities to help them rebuild,” Shelby said, falling into her well-rehearsed speech. “It is part of what we're here for, to rebuild the Federation and lay the grounds for a renewed sector and eventually galactic civilization.”

  The Veraxin's mandibles went slack in surprise. Shelby snorted in amusement. “So, most of the goods will go to your government.”

  “But other things?”

  “We can work on that. As long as they get into the hands of the people that need them the most,” Shelby said.

  They negotiated and set themselves up with a local distributor, Khan Industries. Khan was an ancient corporation Shelby remembered; she was surprised it still existed at all and wondered briefly if someone had restarted it for her benefit or just for name recognition.

  She saw the damage from orbit, so as soon as the materials began to flow in, the replicators swung into action. In short order they had survival equipment, food rations, learning material, computers, solar panels, water purifiers and other things flowing out of the ship and down to the planet. But a week into the project Prometheus reported that the local distributor wasn't passing the goods on to the people. “So what is he doing with it?”

  “For the most part warehousing it. Then he's selling the supplies instead of giving them away as contracted,” the ship's AI reported.

  “Are you sure about this?” Zeb asked. The AI nodded. The Veraxin turned to his captain, and noted she was thoroughly pissed off.

  “Agent Buck has recorded transmissions from Loch to the planet. Apparently Captain Yu is involved in the deal,” Prometheus reported.

  “He…What is he doing? He went behind my back?” Shelby demanded.

  The AI nodded. She frowned as she read the report. The distributor and Yu had gone behind her back, cutting deals for the goods without clearing it with her. That pissed off, even more so when she found out where the goods went. Most of the goods were indeed being stockpiled. But some were going to the rich or those who really didn't need it. The poor communities, those hardest hit and struggling to rebuild were being ignored or gouged.