by Britt Ringel
“Well,” he hemmed, “you know I was holding out for a place here, in Streasskogan. I wanted to live close to you but everything’s so expensive.” He nodded as if making an internal decision. “I’ll just grab an apartment up in Capeland City. It’ll be cheaper and I’ll be able to afford the deposit and the classes. When do I need to transfer the funds?”
Melissa sighed. “Let me talk to my father.”
Lochlain kissed the top of Melissa’s head. Her chestnut hair smelled like wildflowers. “Mel, where are the schedules for the hands-on classes?”
“You don’t need them,” she restated adamantly.
“I know but I wonder if I could be an instructor.”
Melissa’s eyes widened and her next words ran together. “That’d be perfect! You could work for the ASA right here!” She looked up and ogled him greedily. “I’d be able to keep my eye on you.” Her hands flew over her keyboard with renewed vigor. “Let me check the job listings and get you an application. Give it to me once you’ve filled it out and I’ll show you nepotism at its rankest.”
“The class scheduling, Mel,” he reminded her.
Her keyboard clicked ceaselessly. “Here.”
Lochlain’s datapad chirped. He fished it out from a front cargo pocket and looked at the request. “I have to take this, Mel. Send me the schedules, if you don’t mind. I’ll flash you later.” He gave her head another peck and walked from the office.
Once outside of the Appiation Sailing Association’s administration building, he accepted the comm request. “Reece Lochlain.”
“Mr. Lochlain, I’m calling about the freighter you’ve put up for sale. My name is Arthur Lunde.”
“How can I help you, Mr. Lunde?”
“I’ve spoken to Agent Brooke from Customs and Borders and did some research after speaking with her,” the prospective buyer began. “I have to admit that I’m reticent about purchasing an impounded freighter.”
“I certainly wouldn’t buy one,” Lochlain confessed. “The horror stories I’ve heard about having your ship in CBP limbo are fabled.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that, Mr. Lochlain.”
“Truth is truth,” Lochlain answered plainly. “But the fact is, Mr. Lunde—,” he lowered his voice secretively, “—On Margin is coming off impound. Probably tonight.”
“I’d need proof before I was willing to make an offer and, of course, I’d need to see the ship once it’s been released.” Impounded ships were strictly off-limits to the public.
“I think that’s only prudent,” Lochlain agreed cordially. “I can show you a copy of the release authorization when we meet. Where are you currently?”
“Capeland City.”
Lochlain cringed. Judit Larsson was undoubtedly searching for him. “Let’s meet at the spaceport around thirteen hundred. We can take a shuttle up and you can have the run of the ship.”
“You’re that certain it’s going to be released?” Lunde asked skeptically. “I’m a very busy man who can’t afford to waste time.”
“The freighter’s owner has strong ties to government, Mr. Lunde,” Lochlain explained. He poured honey into his voice and revealed, “CBP is bending over backwards to accommodate her. She’s actually heading out with an ambassadorship although you didn’t hear that from me.”
“I see,” Lunde said as he whistled in understanding. “That makes me feel much better. The price and circumstances of the ship are rather unusual but now they make more sense.”
Lochlain tested the alarm on his datapad. It chimed loudly for him. “Oh! Another potential buyer is flashing me, Mr. Lunde. Will I see you at thirteen hundred then?” he asked rhetorically before continuing. “Just flash me when you arrive at the spaceport and we can meet.”
“Until then, Mr. Lochlain.”
He disconnected and quickly entered Brooke’s comm code into his datapad.
* * *
Brooke’s initial fear that Arthur Lunde was not a serious buyer faded when she witnessed the team he brought with him for the inspection. Two engineers, a fully qualified bridge crew, an attorney and a financial officer from Lunde’s banking institution were in tow. The extent of the inspection team surprised even Lochlain and required a shuttle upgrade from Class-F to Class-B. It was an unwelcomed, though necessary additional expense.
As they docked with the deserted ship, Lochlain provided expert cover for Brooke as she bypassed the impound lockout with a CBP code. Her request to board was officially logged as a trip to retrieve personal effects from the freighter. She had spent nearly four months aboard On Margin as an Engineer’s Mate while undercover. After an agent on the surface of Svea approved Brooke’s request, she was given permission to board the confiscated freighter.
Brooke, wearing a CBP armored chest piece and helmet, played the role of irritated, detached government agent and sequestered herself to the bridge while Lochlain perfected his part as magnanimous ship captain. Eventually Lunde’s entourage broke into separate teams to perform diagnostics and spot inspections on the ship’s various systems while Lunde and his attorney pored through On Margin’s records.
Judit Larsson demanded that all of her freighters be kept in strict accord to Appiation commerce laws, a deep irony considering her profession. Consequently, On Margin’s logs were flawless and Brooke had painstakingly ensured that the freighter’s elaborate path to impound release had been properly navigated, at least on first appearance. Lunde and his attorney lacked the security clearance necessary for an in-depth examination.
By the six-hour mark of the inspection, Lunde’s team had given On Margin the mechanical equivalent of a comprehensive medical exam. Lochlain and Brooke now sat across from Lunde and his legal and financial support.
“I must admit that I am impressed with her condition,” Lunde gushed. It was clear the man had fallen in love with not only the well-maintained freighter but also the prospect of coming into it on the cheap. He looked at his counsel and said, “And my attorney tells me that everything is in order as far as the impound release.”
The lawyer raised a cautionary hand and corrected, “That’s not exactly true, Mr. Lunde. The forms have been completed and the authorization is approved but the process is not complete. The public freighter rolls still show it on impound.”
“But the proof of release is that we’re aboard her, Ted,” Lunde argued before Brooke could. The potential buyer gestured toward her. “She would have never let us aboard if it were still impounded. Besides, CBP’s own network shows the ship is freed.”
Indeed it did. Brooke had captured a copy of the screen and digitally removed the impound status seven hours earlier.
The attorney tilted his head in partial acquiescence but said, “I still wouldn’t advise you to make an offer until it’s on the public rolls, Mr. Lunde.”
Lochlain interjected, “When word is released to the public—”
“He’s going to get multiple offers within the hour,” Lunde finished for him. “And then I’ll be involved in a bidding war. This is a sturdy ship and it’s been very well taken care of but what makes this ship so special right now is its price.” Lunde rocked back into his chair and boasted, “I haven’t ascended to my position by playing it safe, Ted. Reward demands risk and I think the risk is minimized in this case.”
“You pay me for my opinion, Mr. Lunde, but of course the decision is yours,” the attorney admitted.
Lunde turned to his financial advisor. “Charles, make the offer.”
The man sitting stiffly to Lunde’s right wore a fine suit. He nodded firmly once and pecked at his datapad. Lochlain’s datapad chimed immediately.
“Unfortunately,” Lunde said with soothing sympathy, “I can’t promise she’ll remain homeported in Svea or Imdali. It’s still a very generous offer.”
Lochlain eyed the offer on his screen: 200,000,000 credits. Brooke, seated next to him at the briefing table but seemingly engrossed in her own datapad, continued to play the disinterested spectator. Under
the table, she casually stepped on Lochlain’s left foot. Her partner shook his head slowly. “Mr. Lunde, I appreciate your offer but if I wait just a few hours, I’ll be fielding bids twice this much.” He pulled his foot free and moved to lift himself from his chair. “I appreciate your time and I’m sorry we couldn’t come to an agreement.”
Lunde’s hand flashed out to stay him. “Hold on, Mr. Lochlain. That’s just an opening offer. I hope you understand that corporate acumen demands a lowball at first. I can do better.” He thrust his chin at his financial agent expectantly.
Lochlain settled back to his chair cushion and saw the offer improve to 250,000,000. “The listed price is two ninety-nine, sir…” He fiddled with his datapad.
“Arthur P. Lunde could never pay list price. It would ruin my reputation!” the man refuted good-naturedly. “Can you give me a counteroffer?”
Lochlain sent a number and bargained, “Plus the money is immediately liquid upon receipt. In return, I can sign ownership over to you right now.”
The lawyer burst into a coughing fit at the demand.
Lunde shook his head. “That’s not how sales are conducted, Mr. Lochlain. My payment is transferred to you but not withdrawable until title transfer has completely flipped to me.” He tried to calm his attorney with a knowledgeable look. “That can’t happen until public confirmation of the impound release. That’s for my protection and I will not forfeit it.” After a nod from his attorney, he returned his attention to Lochlain. “The figure is acceptable though.”
Lochlain smiled and reached across the table with an open hand. “Then we have a deal, Mr. Lunde. Take care of her; she’s a good ship.”
Chapter 5
Two hours after completing the sale, Lochlain and Brooke watched Lunde’s team disappear inside the crowded spaceport. Lochlain looked nervously around the terminal and said, “Mercer, we’ve got to get out of this city. Larsson will unquestionably have surveillance here. This is the worst place I could possibly be. I’m just asking to get shot.”
“Why do you think I’m in raid armor, genius?” Brooke retorted with a wry look. “With my recent luck, they’ll miss you and hit me.” She pecked at her datapad for a moment before adding, “Our shuttle is waiting for us anyway. Terminal C, Gate Twelve.”
“We’re not taking an aircar back to Streasskogan?” Lochlain asked in surprise.
“No, we have our own ship inspection to perform,” Brooke explained breezily and began to smile. “What do you think I was doing all evening? Playing Ghui-Yo?”
“It’s a fun game. I’m level nineteen and just entered Itty-Bitty City. The trick to getting in is to sneak through the sewers.”
“I’m level eighty-nine, you newb.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “Besides, I was hunting for our ship and I may have found it.” She spun her datapad to face him.
On the screen, the schematics of a “Tuoma”-class cargo vessel appeared. The native Chinese characters for the class suggested a draft horse or more loosely a beast of burden. It was a fitting designation for a workhorse of hauling and trade.
This particular vessel was named CSV Zanshin, a small Handy-sized general cargo freighter with 150,000 tonnes displacement. Although unfamiliar with the specific class, Lochlain saw immediately that Zanshin had a traditional spinal configuration that carried up to eleven gigantic FUES cargo containers down her 230-meter long hull. Her beam was a mere eleven meters and her shallow draft of seventeen meters meant only one of her three decks ran the length of the ship.
Shun Shipping Company built Zanshin nearly seventy years ago inside the Tengying-controlled corporate star system of Shui Wei. The system was only two tunnel dives from Svea and Tengying Universal was a major competitor of Appiation Unlimited Transactions. Zanshin’s crew complement required just four qualified individuals to operate the ship legally.
“It’s everything we’re looking for,” Brooke told him before starting to walk toward Terminal C.
Lochlain threw himself into motion to keep up. “Are you going to be able to maintain all the equipment? Won’t everything be marked in Chinese?”
“There will be English underneath the characters,” Brooke assured him. “Tengying is nothing if not practical. It’s a smart, good mega-corp. Besides, Zanshin’s power core and drives aren’t even from Shui Wei. Back when this ship was built, Tengying didn’t have the facilities to manufacture propulsion so they brought in drives from the Ardea system. Toland Malatech builds solid equipment. Plus, buying this ship means our payment would have to flow all the way to the Shui Wei system and that’ll buy us more time before the owner can try to actually cash out the credit balance.”
“I guess it won’t hurt to take a look. With Lunde’s money non-withdrawable, it’s not like we can just pull out the credits and flee Svea as millionaires.” He looked nervously at the passing crowds again. “At the minimum, it gets me out of Capeland City.”
“Yup,” Brooke agreed, seemingly oblivious to Lochlain’s concern. “The best we can do with Lunde’s credit balance is transfer it to someone else.” She turned a corner to a narrower, less crowded corridor and came to a halt. “Which is exactly what you’re going to do now.”
Lochlain frowned. “Now? We’re going to buy sight unseen?”
“No, you’re going to transfer Lunde’s payment to me,” Brooke explained. “Zanshin’s owner thinks I’m the prospective buyer. I’ve already received alerts that a Shui Wei bank has made information requests on my credit and personal background. That’s a lot safer than having them dig into your past.”
Lochlain chewed his bottom lip as he hesitated. “But, if we make the transfers under your name, then…”
Brooke beamed at him. “I’ll be the ship’s owner.” Her voice took on a patronizing tone. “Don’t worry, dear, we’ll be equal partners.” She mimicked his air quotes from the previous night and gave him a wink.
Lochlain’s jaw dropped fractionally. “It’s not that, honey. Just… do you really want to turn Tengying into an enemy when the ship owner tries to actually liquidate your payment?”
Brooke shrugged. “Someone is going to get stuck holding the bag, Reece. The fraud will eventually be traced back to your sale of On Margin but Arthur Lunde will have a pretty sound case against CBP so hopefully Appiation gets hit with the bill. Maybe not though, since Appiation has the best lawyers and controls the courts. Either way, I checked and Lunde owns six other freighters so we’re not ruining that man’s life.” She waved her datapad playfully. “Still waiting for my money. Mercer Brooke wants to get paid.”
Lochlain sighed and dug out his datapad. He logged into his financial records and entered the required commands. With a final, longing look, he transferred the banknote worth over a quarter of a billion credits to Brooke. “Don’t say I never gave you anything,” he muttered sourly.
“After that bout of Le Verrier Flu, how could I?” She grinned maliciously when the transfer completed. “Well, it’s been nice doing business with you, Mr. Lochlain, but I think we should part ways now.”
Lochlain growled. “Let’s go look at Zanshin,” he said before looking around the terminal anxiously again. When she did not move to follow, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the corridor.
“You know,” Brooke pondered aloud as she was tugged along, “another benefit of this transfer is when Larsson’s men find you, now I can just run for it.”
Lochlain continued to search the terminal’s patrons for danger but the pair arrived safely at their destination ten paranoia-filled minutes later. The gate was small and connected to a tiny shuttle. A short man of Asian ancestry waited patiently at its portal.
“Miss Brooke,” he greeted her as they approached, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The man’s English paradoxically contained a heavy German accent. The nearby Neue Munchen star system boasted some of the finest business schools in the Coreward Corporate Zone and was a heavy draw for all of the CCZ’s aspiring students. Even Solarian Federation citizens were eager to pay t
he hefty tuition to obtain a vaunted Volkmancht-Kaufmännisch degree.
Brooke shook the diminutive man’s hand. “Mr. Oshiro? It’s nice to meet you.” She gestured toward Lochlain. “This is my business associate, Captain Reece Crapper. He’ll be conducting the inspection with me.”
Lochlain shot her a disapproving look.
Oshiro nodded eagerly at her associate before working the gate’s control panel. “Very good. Shall we be off, Miss Brooke?”
The Class-F shuttle accommodated only two people comfortably behind its controls. Lochlain had to unfold one of the two jumpseats in the narrow aisle behind the cockpit. Although cramped, the craft appeared well maintained and Brooke was delighted to learn that it belonged to Zanshin’s single shuttle hangar. It was a clear upgrade from the stock Tuoma-class freighter shuttle and while old, it had been hardly used with less than one hundred hours on its powerful drives. The tiny craft served a double purpose. Not only was it used for transportation but the shuttle had been constructed as a freight ferry with payload claws on the bow of the vessel designed to attach to shipping containers and maneuver them onto Zanshin’s cargo hardpoints.
During the ride back to the graveyard orbit, Brooke learned that the freighter’s owner was testing the waters in Svea because the Tuoma freighter market in Shui Wei was oversaturated. The aging class was rapidly approaching the end of its lifespan without major refits and many of the freighters were up for sale.
Lochlain unbuckled from his jumpseat to kneel behind Brooke when Zanshin came into view on the shuttle’s wall screen. The long, narrow ship looked skeletal without the enormous intermodal containers that would ride underneath her spine.
“As you can see, Zanshin is a beautiful ship,” Oshiro praised. “Her living space is very compact unlike most of the designs of older spinal freighters.” He waved a finger and smiled. “You won’t have to walk for hundreds of meters just to move from your duty station to your quarters. The main living parcels are all located at her center.”