“Mr. Kosmalski?” Lawrence looked up as his secretary’s head poked through the door.
“Yes, Moisha?”
“Admiral Kaczynski is here to see you.”
“Send him in,” he said, and gave her a sly wink. The woman’s incredibly pale cheeks flushed slightly. After she’d gotten over his roguish appearance, Lawrence had stolen her from Lech, and had taken her to bed shortly after that. Russian girls had always been his favorite. He muted the TV and set the remote aside.
The admiral entered, his dark navy uniform immaculate down to the polish on his shoes and the plethora of ribbons decorating his chest. As he entered the office he removed his hat, and nodded to Olga as she closed the door. Lawrence rose to come around his desk, a hand held out. The navy man only looked mildly surprised before taking the tattooed hand, and he seemed to eye the purple mohawk and piercings with some interest.
“Kids these days,” Lawrence said with a smile. Kaczynski seemed to regard those words for a moment, holding Lawrence’s hand, before giving it a squeeze and laughing. Lawrence matched the grip perfectly and the admiral gave an approving nod. “Good to meet you in person, Admiral,” Lawrence added.
“You as well, Mr. Kosmalski. Your brother seemed only too willing to have you handle this matter.”
“Cousin,” Lawrence said, gesturing the other man to a chair. “It’s a common mistake. Can I offer you a drink?” The admiral glanced at his wristwatch before giving a shrug.
“Why not? Scotch and soda on the rocks, please.” Lawrence went to the bar and mixed the requested drink, pouring himself two fingers of Kentucky bourbon.
“You will please forgive my cousin,” Lawrence said, handing over the tumbler, “these sorts of contracts are not his specialty.”
“Your grandfather had been negotiating this for some time before he passed. It was a setback when it happened so suddenly.”
“Yes,” Lawrence said, sitting behind the desk and removing a green folder from a drawer. “It is quite complicated.” He opened the file and started summarizing. “Kosmalski Shipping is to provide at least 20 billets for officer candidates in the Polish Navy, with as many as 50 per year. These are in a six-month rotation, with transportation to and from potential ports of call to be provided by the Naval Department. Proposed compensation is to be in the form of a 40% subsidy for staffing these crew members, in essence making the billets a net profit. A premium of one million euros is to be paid at the initiation of the training contract and another 150,000 euros at its completion.” He hummed and read to himself for a minute. “All in all, it’s a pretty good deal,” he said finally. The admiral nodded and sipped his drink.
“Excellent, than we can proceed?”
“I have a couple questions,” Lawrence said, raising a hand. “Why are you interested in training your future officers on merchant vessels?”
“It’s merely cross-training,” the admiral said, waving a hand dismissively.
“I don’t buy that,” Lawrence said. “You’ve been training your officers for a century without needing civilian instruction.” The admiral eyed him with a considering gaze. “No, I suspect the Polish Navy is interested in expanding beyond the Baltic and into a blue water navy. Russia’s renewed global interests, as well as the growing rivalry with the USA, suggests Poland is getting nervous and wishes to expand its military.” He fished out a piece of paper. “There are two orders for guided missile cruisers that are going to be made later this year, as well as for a pair of destroyers and six new frigates. The Polish Navy is already one of the most powerful navies in the Baltic; this suggests a reach beyond.”
The admiral locked eyes with Lawrence for a long moment before reaching to take his glass. He drained it with several swallows and carefully returning it to the desk, never losing eye contact the whole time.
“I see several things,” he told Lawrence, glancing at his hair and tattoos. “The first is that looks can be deceiving.”
“And the other?”
“That your grandfather chose his successor well.” Lawrence inclined his head toward the admiral in respect. “What more do you want to make this deal?”
“I would wish for a number of Kosmalski Shipping officers to be trained as naval reserve officers as well.” The admiral look turned from appraising to curiosity.
“I will admit,” he said, “that was not what I expected. In which case, I am inclined to disapprove.”
“I expected that would be your reply, which is why I’m offering to waive the one million euro premium in exchange for what I’ve requested.” The admiral shook his head. Not in denial of the request, but in amazement. They both knew what they wanted. The admiral wanted men trained in blue water maritime operations, and Lawrence wanted his captains and officers as reserve naval officers, so that if war did ever come, and his ships were pressed into service, it would be his own people retaining command. They spoke about the details for several more minutes before coming to an agreement.
Lawrence mixed another drink, and they clinked glasses and drank while shaking hands. Olga brought in the finalized contract, and they both signed. It was a done deal. When the admiral was gone, Lawrence sighed and sat back down.
“Olga,” he said as she came back in, “tell Amelia well done.” The lawyer he’d hired had the office next door. She hadn’t come cheap, but what did anymore? The damage Lech had done to their standing with the legal community had been almost impossible to overcome.
“I will,” she said and dropped into his lap. They kissed, and he let his hands wander until he saw something interesting on the TV. Olga pouted as he stretched out to tap the remote, and the audio came back up. An announcer was speaking in Polish about aliens in the United States. The Reuters News Service logo was scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
“Is this real?” he asked, knowing the girl watched more TV than he from the weekends she spent in his Warsaw condo.
“You didn’t hear about the spaceships out past the moon?” He shook his head. “You honestly need to watch more than the financial news sometimes.” He watched as the sleek, shiny ships descended from the sky past the Manhattan skyline.
“I guess you’re right,” he said. He switched off the TV, and turned his attention back to her.
* * * * *
Winged Hussars - 5
Lawrence never wasted his time on the political goings on in Warsaw, and especially not on the ones in New York City. The company didn’t do a lot of trans-Atlantic business, instead keeping to the Baltic, Mediterranean, and certain Middle Eastern trade routes. If cargo needed to move to eastern United States ports, he’d usually arrange for transshipping. However, when the vote suddenly came up to join the Galactic Union, he was interested enough to watch. It was carried live on TV, though late in the Warsaw evening, and he watched as the terrorist set off the bomb and killed half the UN representatives, the Galactic Union envoy, and her MinSha guards.
The Arabian Peninsula had been a problem for a long, long time. A combination of toxic religious fervor and massive wealth added up to a never-ending series of cataclysmic atrocities. Lawrence wasn’t surprised to see a good part of it end the same way. He was in the company-owned bunker when the alien ship began its bombardment of Iran. Earth’s new unified government had been assured the attack would be precise and without collateral damage. Over a century of modern warfare argued against that assurance, but it proved true. The MinSha ship’s weaponry was accurate and lethal.
After the country was burned from space, ships dropped from orbit carrying MinSha soldiers who then finished off any remaining resistance and looted everything they could find of value. They explained this was to compensate them for the losses in exacting retribution. Lawrence thought it was like billing the condemned for their own execution. But the MinSha were the ones with the space-based weapons, so Earth didn’t get a say.
When it was over, the planet was in shock. General Thales, who’d been the U.S. facilitator and aide to the appointed U.S. ambassa
dor to the Union, had nearly been killed in the UN attack. The Union’s advanced medical technology saved his life, and he was appointed as the U.S.’s new ambassador to the Union. To hear him explain the attack against Iran, the world got off easy, and they were better off to let the subject drop.
Of course, the countries that hadn’t voted to join the Union protested the attack. The UN, for once, was mute. Lawrence found that amusing. The feckless world government had been carefully subverted by a galactic government. It was, simply put, hilarious. Any Pole would have seen such a move coming, especially with the Americans pulling the strings.
Now, with the Iranian incident several months past, other news was dominating the cycle. The aliens were impressed with how Humans could fight. It turned out most of the aliens (and there were thousands of races out there) couldn’t fight, or wouldn’t. Everyone knew Humans loved to fight. The aliens should have dropped by a Polish holiday celebration, and they could have seen that in action.
The new representative from the Union was supposed to be from the Mercenary Guild, one of many that actually handled the day-to-day governance of the Galactic Union. As the 37th race that would fight for a living, Humanity now had value in the galaxy.
“Stinking mercenaries,” Lawrence said, shaking his head as he watched the Polish news program talking about the happenings. No one respected mercenaries. It was all background noise compared to saving the family business. Contracts to go off-world, into the unknown, and get shot at were just about the last things on his mind. At least until his cousin struck.
He had spent the previous day completing negotiations with the bank to advance their repayment of loans. Things had been going well for the company, and the deal with the Polish Navy helped. That is, until Lawrence came in that morning to see the majority of the company’s liquid assets gone overnight.
“Lech!” Lawrence yelled as he barged into his cousin’s office. He immediately stopped when he saw the man wasn’t alone. There were dozens in the office, all with computers set on long tables and temporary monitors set up to display pictures of a building.
“Hello, cousin,” Lech said with his infuriating smile. A smile somewhat bent, thanks to Lawrence. “So you noticed the deal last night?”
“Damn it, you spent almost every euro we had! And for what, some building?” He looked at all the displays around him. He also noted the people were from the marine engineering division. “We already have a building we can barely afford.”
“Building?” Lech asked and gestured at the displays. “Look closer.” Lawrence looked closer and realized what it was.
“A spaceship? You bought a spaceship?”
“The future is in space,” Lech said, shrugging, either not noticing or not caring about the tone in Lawrence’s voice. “There will be ships going back and forth from Earth very soon. To our own colonies maybe? But if not, to alien worlds to buy and trade.”
“We don’t have anything they want, you idiot.” Lawrence said. “You spent all our cash on a dead end.”
“I didn’t just spend our cash,” Lech said, the barest hint of regret in his voice. Lawrence slowly looked from the displays to his cousin. “It wasn’t enough. No one thing was enough to buy the ship. Luckily, there was a large quantity of something they did want, just rotting in Vladivostok.”
“Jesus,” Lawrence moaned, “you traded them the promethium?!” Lech nodded. “What have you done?”
“Secured the future.” It took every bit of Lawrence’s will not to pound Lech into a bloody pulp again. “Mark my words, with that freighter, we’ll make back the investment 1,000 times over!” Lawrence massaged his temples with his left hand, the right one balled into a fist. He had a clear and distinct memory of agreeing to the contingency that Lech could approve cash transactions, but not service contracts. He’d been certain this would limit Lech’s shenanigans, but he’d been sorely mistaken. Lech had merely waited until Lawrence got a large amount of money into their account, then he’d cleaned it out in one fell swoop.
“And what if you’re wrong?” Lech’s face darkened slightly. “We have three loan payments we’ll barely make now,” Lawrence said, ticking off points on his fingers. “We can barely make this month’s payroll, and if anything goes wrong, we’re completely screwed with no reserves. Kosmalski Shipping will be dead. Dead and buried.”
“I understand,” Lech said, his face a mask of careful control. He had never liked having the light of reality shined on his dreams.
“Where is this spaceship, then?”
“We bought it through an organization known as the Wathayat. It will be delivered in a few days.” Lech looked at an alien-made tablet computer on his desk, called a slate. Kosmalski Shipping had purchased a dozen of them at a cost of better than 100,000 euros each. The devices were almost as powerful as the best Human-made supercomputer. More than a few had been purchased by the likes of IBM, Intel, and AMD with the unspoken hopes of reproducing the incredibly-powerful machines. “It’s a Schleect-class, whatever that means. Made by the Bakulu race. The name isn’t pronounceable. “
Lawrence went around the room examining the displays. The ship did kind of look like a skyscraper; it was not at all what he’d expected a spaceship to look like after watching shows like Star Trek and Star Wars. It seemed so…utilitarian. More importantly, it didn’t look like what he thought a freighter ought to look like. How much cargo could such a thing hold?
“How big is that thing?” Lawrence asked.
“It’s 120 meters long, 39 meters wide, and weighs around 8,000 tons,” Lech said with a huge smile.
Lawrence digested the numbers and applied them to a commercial ship he would be familiar with. It was tiny by comparison. A Panamax freighter would be 294 meters long and 32 wide. Most were more than 80,000 tons. That ship would have a cargo capacity of 65,000 tons. But those ships didn’t have to climb into space! He remembered the huge Saturn V rockets the Americans designed, 99 percent of which was just to get a couple tons into space!
“How much cargo can it hold?” Lech looked at the technical details and opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. He looked some more before shrugging.
“The Wathayat representative assured us it was a capable ship.”
“Jesus cousin, did you even watch the videos of the ships the alien arrived in last year? The ones they brought to make the stargate were big fat things. This looks like a needle by comparison.” Lech scowled and looked at the data again. “Give me a copy of the ship’s details, and I’ll get the answers myself,” he said and held out a hand. Lech glared at him for a moment, clearly considering to simply refuse. “I’m not trying to cause trouble; I just can’t operate without enough information. Please, let me have it.” Lech finally nodded and one of the others in the room handed Lawrence one of the precious slates. “Thanks, I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
“What are you so interested in?”
“At least partly what kind of crew we’ll need,” Lawrence explained, “and general capacities.”
“Fine,” Lech said, “if you’ll let us work, then indulge yourself.”
In the end, it took Lawrence a week to finish his analysis of the data on their new ship. A week of spending more money they didn’t have. He was forced to approve a contract for a node to the galaxy’s equivalent to the internet, called the GalNet. He made the decision after spending more than a day trying vainly to chase data that didn’t exist on Earth. Thus far the only ones with a GalNet node were a few shrewd internet businesses that charged a premium for access (upwards of one thousand euros per search).
Used to nearly free internet access and unlimited searches, the fees were an unpleasant surprise, and he quickly realized it was cheaper at two million euros to just buy the node. The representative of the Information Guild, a barely one-meter tall elSha that looked like a gecko, was most pleased to make the transaction. It was the first of many times Lawrence would feel that he’d been screwed by an alien.
With all the acces
s he needed, Lawrence could research things like fusion drives, energy shields, and an enigmatic material known as F11. Slowly the details of their new ‘freighter’ emerged, and much was exactly as he’d expected. Lech was in the middle of a meeting with the recently assembled Space Division of Kosmalski Shipping. Lawrence bulled his way past the secretary and entered the board room.
Lech had been speaking. “Ever the subtle one, cousin?” Lech asked.
Lawrence looked around the boardroom at the assembled people, the huge flat-panel monitors showing the new ship now in orbit, and laughed.
“I finally finished the last of the analysis,” he said.
“Oh? Are you prepared to admit I was right?”
Lawrence sighed. He’d hoped with all these people, they would have figured out what he had. “Did you know the ship cannot land on a planet?”
“We found that out yesterday,” Lech admitted, “but it has several orbital-capable shuttles with which we can move cargo.”
“At about five tons per trip,” Lawrence said. “Each flight from planetside to orbit will consume 100 tons of reaction mass, usually purified hydrogen, and several hours of life on the shuttle’s fusion plant.” Lech looked confused. Lawrence cursed and pulled out the slate, using one of its features he’d discovered to commandeer a monitor to show his information. “Union ships use a type of fusion power. It’s advanced by our understanding. It consumes something on the order of a kilogram of mass per megawatt.” Several of those assembled exclaimed in amazement.
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