“Alex, I need your advice,” Quill told him, “seriously, urgently. ISiS Corps has offered me a million dollars to take over Karadon Leisure!”
Alex considered this for the three seconds it took him to fully appreciate it, then burst out laughing. He could just imagine Davie-Boy North Delaney grinning at him from the Stepeasy, waiting for his reaction to that.
“Alex, I’m serious!” Quill protested, as Alex hooted merrily.
“Yes, I’m sure!” Alex pulled himself together, though still with a broad grin on his face. “I don’t doubt you for a moment, Quill.”
“But you don’t understand, it’s for real!” Quill didn’t seem to grasp that Alex understood him, and persisted in trying to explain it, “I thought they were having me on at first, but they’ve put it all in writing, proper contracts – they’ll pay me half a million down right now, as what they call “good faith” money, and the other half in five months if I’ve got Karadon Leisure up and running again. And they’ve said they’ll give me a hundred thousand dollar bonus if I can get Marto to go back aboard. It’s mad, but they’re serious!”
“Quill, it isn’t mad at all,” Alex assured him, seeing that his friend was not politically astute enough to realise what was going on with that. “They could not find anyone better to take on that role right now if they scoured the League. You’re ideally qualified, as a senior liner officer with the full confidence of both liner companies. You’re also high profile here and people trust you. In the wider sense, too, government will be reassured that you’re ex-Fleet, someone who’s worked with us here and a man of strong integrity.”
Quill looked at him with dawning suspicion.
“Hey!” he said. “Did you have anything to do with this, Alex?”
“Me?” Alex grinned back. “Nothing at all, Quill. It never even occurred to me. It is a brilliant solution, though.” As he spoke, a further thought occurred. “You know, I bet you a dollar they’re making the same offer to Aidon Dulahi to take over Freight.”
Aidon Dulahi was the skipper of the Logistics 912, the container ship that had set up as an alternative trading venue. He had the trust and respect of spacers and he too had spoken out fearlessly against the drug trafficking and piracy that had become rife on the station. ISiS Corps could do no better than to recruit him to get their Freight Division back up and running.
Quill brushed that aside, not the slightest bit interested in Freight.
“But you think I should take it, then?” he asked. “Seriously?”
“Well, you know, that has to be up to you,” Alex replied. “Take the million dollars out of the equation for a moment and just ask yourself, would you like to be the Director of Leisure at Karadon?”
Quill gave an immediate nod. “Heck yeah!” he said, inelegantly but with huge enthusiasm, “Who wouldn’t?”
Alex could think of a long list of people who wouldn’t want that job for any money, with himself right at the top of it, but he grinned back.
“Well, then, if you want the job and they’re offering you a fortune to do it, why not?”
“Well, it’s just so sudden, and I wouldn’t take it if you thought it was a bad idea,” Quill said. “I mean, you know all about the corporate stuff going on behind the scenes and the politics and all that. Tell me honestly, Alex – are they really good people to be working for? Can I trust them?”
Alex thought about Davie North, with his dark, compelling eyes and that oddly engaging combination of royal hauteur and boyish humour. Even if he could tell Quill that he was being made a job offer by a fourteen year old superhuman who’d been genetically engineered by an alien race, Quill would not believe him.
“Yes, I think so,” he said. “Things went wrong here, with a weak manager and a corrupt head of Freight, but ISiS Corps itself is okay. They’ll be very keen, for sure, to put in new systems and precautions to ensure that nothing like this can happen again. I think you can rely on them to take good care of your security, too.”
“Oh.” Quill obviously hadn’t thought of that, but nodded. ISiS Corps would certainly be putting high security in at the station, in case of reprisals from the gangs on Dortmell. “Well, I would like to take it, obviously, if you really think it’s okay?”
“I don’t see any reason why not,” said Alex, and meant it. “They’re not, presumably, leaving Ambit Persane in charge as MD.”
Quill gave a splutter of laughter at the thought.
“No – they’ve said that Kalvin Geovane will be staying for at least a year, to supervise things personally.” Quill did not understand why Alex laughed again at that, and Alex did not enlighten him. Alex was actually rather impressed that Davie North hadn’t taken the easy decision there to fire the CEO. Having him work at the station for a year would both make it clear that the Shareholder did not approve of the way head office had allowed this matter to slide into crisis, and it would also oblige the CEO to clear up the mess himself. “I’d really like to work with him,” Quill said. “He’s one of the best business minds in the League.” He looked tolerantly at his friend as Alex gave another helpless splutter. Alex was remembering the carefully expressionless look on Kalvin Geovane’s face when Davie had stated, “I’m his boss.” “What is so funny?” Quill asked, and then, recognising the apologetic look on Alex’s face before he even spoke, held up his hands, “All right, okay, I get it, it’s one of those “if I tell you I have to shoot you” things. But just, please, okay, tell me, word of honour, are they okay to work for, Alex? Clean?”
Alex nodded. There might be political differences of view over the sovereignty of ISiS Corp stations, but there could be no doubt that Davie North was a patriot, wholly dedicated to the service of the League. He and Davie North might not have anything else in common, but they had recognised that about each other.
“Word of honour,” Alex promised him, “I wouldn’t have any qualms about you going to work for them, Quill.”
“Good enough,” Quill said, and broke into the most enormous grin. “I’m going to ask Maxi if he’ll come with me,” he confided.
“Good luck.” Alex’s smile was sincere. He would be genuinely pleased for his friend if his dream job and million dollar fortune was completed by being able to share it with his beloved. “I’ll talk to you later, then, Quill, okay?”
It was late that night before they spoke again. Quill was weary but still beaming, calling Alex from his new quarters aboard Karadon. Maxi had indeed gone with him and was introduced to Alex, Quill proud and Maxi bashful. He didn’t stay on the call, though, recognising that Quill and Alex would want to talk privately.
“So, how are things going?” Alex asked.
“Pretty well, so far,” Quill told him, with a happy look. “Captain Giscard has been brilliant – I’d have understood her being a bit annoyed, really, at one of her officers jumping ship like this, but she couldn’t have been more supportive. She’s been organising with the other liners – Red Line as well – to send over crew to help with safety checks.”
Alex had no difficulty understanding why. Both liner companies would want Karadon Leisure open for business again as quickly as possible.
“Quite a lot of the Leisure staff have come back, too,” Quill said. “The ones still in the system, at least. Chantalle Rivers said she’d come back when she heard how much ISiS Corps is paying me, but Mr Geovane said no – he said he doesn’t want anyone in management associated with the old regime. One of Red Line’s officers has come in to work as my deputy – she seems a decent sort,” he conceded, “for a Reddie. You were right about Aidon Dulahi – he’s come in to take over Freight, on the same deal as me, and Mr Murchson is staying on as head of security. We’ve hired a lot of spacers for Freight and tech work. We’ve even hired a few passengers who were up for taking a job. We’re still short of techs but we’ve got enough people to start opening things up again. We’ve had to put freefall hazard stickers on a lot of the shops and things, though.” He shook his head at Alex, mock reprovingly.
“Next time you liberate a station that’s being occupied by a gang of murderous drug traffickers, please try not to make so much mess, okay?”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Alex, with a grin. He had seen some of those images earlier, in fact, when Buzz had drawn his attention to footage that was coming out of the station. At least one of the shops there had been spectacularly trashed. It was a duty-free mart with a good deal of breakable stuff in it and apparently no concept of using magnagrip shelving. “How are you getting on with the journalists? They’re back aboard, I gather.”
“Fine, yes. They’re having a great time, charging round the station hunting for people to interview. We’ve managed to open up a couple of the hotels – I’m not letting them stay at the Central any more, not unless they pay.”
He spoke, Alex was amused to notice, with firm authority. Karadon Leisure was his, now, and he was already so invested in it that the very idea of allowing grubby journos to stay for free in their most exclusive hotel roused indignation. Give him a week, Alex thought, and he’d be running the resort as if he’d been doing so for years.
“We’ve got a few visitors aboard, already,” Quill told him, “and we’re going to open up some shops and things for day-visitors, tomorrow. And,” he added, with an air of triumph, “I got Marto!”
“Congratulations,” Alex grinned. He knew nothing about the leisure industry and even less about fine dining, but even he understood how important it would be for Karadon to have their superstar chef back on board. His presence gave the station glamour, and he was such a well known household name across the League that where he led, thousands would follow.
“Thanks,” said Quill. “It wasn’t easy. I actually had to cry.” He grinned too as Alex laughed at that. “But that wasn’t why I called. I just came out of a board meeting, okay? And I’ve been asked to find out, discreetly, whether you, on behalf of the Fourth, would accept a reward from ISiS Corps in appreciation of all that you’ve done here. I told them you wouldn’t,” he observed, seeing that on Alex’s face, “but Mr Geovane has asked me to ask you, at least, whether there’s anything you’d be willing to accept.”
“A box of doughnuts for the crew would be nice,” Alex said. “Beyond that, no.”
“Understood,” said Quill, and knew Alex well enough not to try to persuade him. “And – can I ask what your own plans are, Alex?”
“We’ll be leaving in about an hour,” said Alex, and smiled as Quill looked shocked. “We’re done here,” he pointed out, “and we have prisoners to get back to Therik.”
The only reason they were still in port was because the surgeon from the Stepeasy was still in their sickbay, helping Rangi to put Hale Ardant back together. In fact it was the other way around, as Rangi was assisting the far more experienced ER surgeon. Rangi had told him they’d be done before one, and once the surgeon had gone back to the Stepeasy, the Heron and the Pallamar would be on their way.
Alex was looking forward to that. Having more than eighty prisoners aboard was bound to have its challenges and there would be a great deal of work to be done, interviewing those who were prepared to give statements and getting all the files ready to hand over to the police and prosecution service groundside. Alex knew that they had enough, at least, to prosecute everyone they had aboard. ISiS Corps had been very efficient in providing all necessary paperwork to confirm that everyone the Fourth had arrested had been occupying the station unlawfully, having refused to leave and taken up arms to resist eviction. They also had good, strong evidence on the drug trafficking. They even had Durb Jorgensen on heatscan image, actually shooting Hale Ardant. Whether they could get him and the others for any of the other murders they were suspected of, or even find out for sure what had happened to the unfortunate Dale Hopkins, remained to be seen.
Whether they had enough to take down the Landorn gang was even less certain. Alex might feel sure, himself, that they’d established a clear line of evidence from the drugs seized to the station and from the station through the Pallamar to the Landorn gang. They had at least two people prepared to turn State’s evidence, and Alex felt confident that that number would go up once they got to Therik and people were being advised by their lawyers. By rights, they ought to have enough to go for major prosecutions on Dortmell, even perhaps to Landorn himself. He also knew, realistically, that stronger cases than that had fallen down in court. Whether they won the cases or not, though, he and the Fourth could not have achieved any more.
Alex would, therefore, enjoy three and a half weeks of relatively peaceful routine as they cruised back home. There would be time for a stroll round the ship and a mug of tea in engineering. They’d be able to spend time at their new base, too, when they got back to Therik, enjoying some well earned shoreleave before the Admiralty fired them off at their next mission. Alex already had a pretty good idea what that was going to be. Both League President Tyborne and First Lord Harangay had mentioned that if they could get this business sorted they’d like the Fourth to go and take a look at Sixships.
Quite what they imagined that a single frigate could achieve at a world that routinely had a full taskforce assigned to peacekeeping duties had not been made clear, but given how things were going Alex suspected that their role would involve doing things the regular Fleet wasn’t allowed to. The Fourth would be up for that. If it came with the opportunity to blow stuff up, so much the better.
“Oh,” Quill looked disconcerted, as if he had somehow expected the Heron to become a permanent fixture at Karadon. “Yes, of course,” he said, a little lamely. “I see.”
“I wouldn’t have gone without calling you,” Alex assured him. “But once we’re gone, things can start to get back to normal around here.”
Quill laughed. The spectre of drug trafficking and murder would hang over Karadon for decades. Even when they were back up to full occupancy, Karadon would never quite regain the glory that Chokran Dayfield would have said was normal. On the other hand, small ships would no longer go in fear of pirates and the station would no longer be trafficking rainbow-coloured death across the League. Both of those had come to be “normal” at Karadon in recent years too.
“I think maybe we need to create a new normal,” said Quill, and Alex grinned at him.
“Good thought,” he agreed. “And I can’t think of anyone better to do it.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, then said goodbye as spacers learned to do, accepting that it might be years before they met again.
Alex went around his ship, then, seeing that everything was in order before he took over the nightwatch. Many of the crew had already gone to bed. It had been quite a day, after all, taking the Pallamar, boarding the station, repairing damage and processing prisoners. There would be more diagnostics work to be done tomorrow, and extra duties all round with all the prisoners to be guarded and provided for.
Not everyone was asleep, however. When Alex went through the for’ard mess deck he found Murg Atwood sitting at one of the small tables with a mug of coffee and a hand-held comp. She looked up when she saw him and turned off the comp with a casual innocence he saw through at once. He knew very well that she’d been told to go off duty and get some rest more than an hour ago. They were no longer hacking Karadon’s computers. Intel would focus, now, on taking statements and preparing prosecution files.
Murg, however, was obviously continuing to work on some profiling in her own time. Alex said nothing, just glanced at the comp, then the coffee, and looked straight at her.
“Yes, all right, sorry, sir,” she conceded, with a grin as she could see he was more amused than annoyed. “I was just trying to figure out what the odds are of Hale Ardant turning State’s evidence because Durb Jorgensen shot him.”
Alex gave a little chuckle. The same possibility had occurred to him. Being shot by one of your associates would certainly be a loyalty-buster. There were only two likely reactions, Alex felt. Either Hale Ardant would be so terrified that they’d make a more thorough job of i
t next time that he’d refuse to say a word, or he’d be so furious that he’d throw himself on the Fourth’s protection and turn State’s evidence.
“Well, you could sit there all night trying to figure that one out,” Alex pointed out. “Or we could just wait, see if he recovers, and if so, what he says.” He let that sink in for a moment and then observed, “There’s no operational advantage to predicting what he might do. There is, however, operational advantage to you getting a good night’s sleep to be fresh for all the profiling and analysis that will need doing tomorrow from interviews.”
“Yes skipper,” Murg agreed, admitting, “I get kind of locked on. It’s difficult to stop, sometimes.”
Alex gave a slight but understanding smile.
“Well, try to recognise it as a bit of a clue that you’re pushing it when you have to drink triple-max coffee to keep going,” he said, and Murg laughed, giving a guilty glance at the betraying coffee mug.
“Fair enough,” she said, and got up, putting her comp into her pocket and picking up the mug, not to drink but to dispose of it. “Off to bed, skipper,” she assured him.
“Good.” Alex gave her an approving look. Murg was only supposed to be helping out a bit, under medical orders to take things easy after the very long, high stress undercover mission that she’d been on. Somehow, though, she had become an integral part of their intel team over the last few days. “I did just want to ask you, though, unofficially – I’m supposed to hand you back to Fleet Intel, of course, and there are several ways we can go about that. I did just wonder, though, how you might feel about staying on to serve with the Fourth.”
He knew the answer to that as her face lit up at once.
“I would love to, sir!” She said, and with a questioning look, “If that’s possible?”
“Possible and very easy,” he told her. “You’ve been “retired” less than three years so you’re still on the Fleet reserve. We’ll just reactivate that and bring you in as a Chief Petty Officer. Admiral Smith will call me some names, of course, for pirating one of his best agents, but we’re all on the same team, after all.”
Karadon (Fourth Fleet Irregulars) Page 40