Jim Baen's Universe Volume 1 Number 5

by Eric Flint

  The two businesspeople walked up and introduced themselves. Quimby gave an icy stare to Misa, who answered with a warm smile. Rostov's face was almost totally emotionless. Both Quimby and Rostov were physically perfect representatives of their gender, which left no doubt in Maddy's mind that they had biosculpted to excess. The two "suits" had made the classic blunder of removing all the tiny imperfections that create true beauty.

  Quimby sat on one of the lounge chairs and made a shooing gesture at Misa. "You need to leave, Gonzales. What we're about to say is proprietary information. Go."

  "Not my problem, Ray. I'm just sitting here by the pool. I am a guest here, after all. Are you staying here, too?" She grinned sweetly.

  "No," he growled, "we're staying at the Hilton, but you knew that. Didn't you?'

  Misa simply shrugged and made no effort to get up.

  Quimby blew out a puff of air. "Fine! But that thing goes off. Right now."

  Nodding in acquiescence, Misa pointed her remote at the drone. The red light winked off. Lee noticed it didn't turn around like it had last time.

  Rostov fixed her with a piercing gaze. "He said 'off,' Misa."

  "Well, I had to try." Misa sighed, then pressed another button on her remote, sending the drone away. Rostov nodded and sat down.

  "Mr. Kurchowsky," Quimby began, "I'd like to make you an offer. My competitor here will make you another offer, but I think you'll like mine better."

  Lee shot a quick glance at Maddy, who nodded slightly. "Okay. Shoot."

  "As you're well aware, we've all taken some big hits in this disaster, and we need to get back on our collective feet. So, we'd like to offer you a job."

  "Doing what?"

  "We've already got an asteroid fitted out, a fifty-gigatonner—"

  "Hold on right there. You want me to work another smelter?"

  "Yeah, that's exactly what we want you to do." Quimby flashed a smile that reminded Lee of a man he'd bought a "slightly used" flitter from, only to find out it was a complete clunker the next day. "This time, you'll be supervising a complete crew. We'll give you free run of everything. After all, you are the best in the business. All you'd have to do is produce. Plus, we'd take that partial slug you fired out there off your hands—at the going price, of course."

  "Sorry. I can't do it. I'm not putting my family at risk again."

  "Oh! No-no-no! You misunderstand me. It'd just be you going. We don't have dependent quarters on our smelters. The insurance premiums are way too high for that."

  A horrible sinking feeling washed over Maddy at the thought. She did not want to see her husband go back into that inferno, nor did she want to be left behind, alone with her fears. Her face must have mirrored her thoughts, because she saw Lee shake his head.

  "No can do," he stated. "I can't—and won't—do that to Maddy and the kids. I'm not going to put my family through hell every time I leave, not after what we've just been through. Sorry, but my answer is no."

  Rostov quirked an eyebrow at Quimby. She opened her mouth to speak, but Lee cut her off. "I'm sorry, but that goes for you, too—if the job involves going back to the sun, I've gotta refuse."

  Not to be dismayed, Rostov pressed on in an even tone. "Mr. Kurchowsky, my firm is prepared to offer you a substantial salary, as well as stock options—which my competitor here isn't prepared to offer. We could make you a rich man."

  "Yeah, wealth is nice, but Sol already tried to kill me once. I'd be a damned fool to give him another shot at me. No deal."

  Quimby spoke up again. "Mr. Kurchowsky. Lee. May I call you 'Lee'?"

  "No, you may not." Quimby recoiled as if slapped.

  "Very well. Mr. Kurchowsky, what happened was a once-in-a-lifetime accident. They're revamping the warning network, so it'll never happen again. So—"

  "It wasn't supposed to happen in the first place!" Lee's temper flared. Couldn't guy understand no?

  "But even if it did happen, we have pinnaces—"

  "That can't do over two hundred gees without jury-rigging them and burning out the impellers," Misa interjected. "Solar Steel's famous for putting the bottom line first, no matter what the cost."

  "You're on thin ice, Gonzales!" Quimby snapped, and his face reddened. "And those pinnaces were perfectly adequate for any projected emergency. Accidents happen. Today's losses were tragic, but you just can't plan for the impossible."

  Maddy couldn't hold her tongue anymore. "That's no excuse!"

  Quimby jerked like a dog that overestimated the length of his leash. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Maybe you can't 'plan for the impossible,' but that is no excuse for skimping on safety equipment. You plan for the absolute worst, then double your estimate."

  Maddy fixed Quimby with an icy glare. "You always overdesign, overbuild, and overstock your safety equipment. That way, when the 'impossible' happens, there just might be enough of a cushion built up to give your people at least a fighting chance.

  Maddy shook her head. "I'd never serve under an officer who was as casual about the safety of her crew as you apparently are about that of your employees. And, knowing that, I sure as hell wouldn't want my husband working for you."

  Lee shook his head and chuckled. "I guess that settles it. Where my wife goes, so go I. Nice talking to you, Mr. Quimby. Please go away."

  Quimby stood so quickly he knocked his chair over. When he spoke, he abandoned all pretense of politeness, and a biting undertone of disgust filled his voice. "Fine! Be that way. But you can forget about anyone buying that hunk of B-steel. After all, if we refuse to buy it—and we do buy a substantial amount from wildcatters—everyone else is going to start wondering what's wrong with it, especially if we put a few whispers in the right ears. I hope you realize that the Solar Guard will come after you, sooner or later, for creating a 'navigational hazard.' I hear the fines are quite stiff. Good day."

  Rostov shook her head. "I think my competitor's offer has been withdrawn. However, our offer is still on the table. I should remind you that, with all the claims filed because of this disaster, it's probably going to take quite some time for your insurance to pay off."

  "Ms. Rostov, I won't go back there, and I certainly won't take my family back there. We barely made it out of there alive. So, my answer is still 'no.'"

  She nodded, and said, "I wish you'd change your mind, but I can understand your reasoning. Here's my card. If you eventually reconsider, or if you think of some other way we can arrange this, please give me a call. I'll be in my suite at the Hilton for the next few days."

  Lee took the card, and Rostov stood up to leave. She took two steps, then stopped and turned around. "One more thing, Mr. Kurchowsky; I wouldn't worry too much about the Solar Guard if I were you. They're pretty flexible with regard to disaster victims."

  After Rostov left, Lee asked Misa, "She's a little different, isn't she?"

  "Oh yes. While Selene is definitely a shark—I've tangled with her before, and I've got the bite marks to prove it, she's an honorable shark. She won't double-cross you as long as you deal honestly with her. Plus, you can bet your bottom credit that the LAM pinnaces can do more than two hundred gees. Quimby, on the other hand, is just a rude, obnoxious, backstabbing toad who climbed the corporate ladder holding on to Daddy's coattails. If brains were reaction mass, he wouldn't have enough to deorbit a dust speck."

  Maddy rested her head on Lee's shoulder. "So, I guess this means we're at rock bottom, huh?"

  He grinned and chuckled lightly. "No way. I've been at rock bottom before, and I know what it looks like. This is much nicer. The last time I was at rock bottom, I sure as hell don't remember having a pool."

  Maddy tried to chuckle, but it came out as a partial sob. "I know you're just trying to cheer me up, but you don't have to. I know we're in for some tough times."

  "Don't worry, honey. Things will work out—trust me. Besides, we may not have money, but at least we're not in debt. You said so yourself."

  Lee was right. Maddy was still convin
ced they were at rock bottom, but at least they weren't digging.

  Misa favored them with a sympathetic grin. "He's right, Maddy. Things will work out."

  Maddy was puzzled. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

  "Oh . . . maybe. We'll just see how things shake out." A Cheshire-cat grin spread across her face. Her eyebrows then shot up, and she started digging in her handbag. She pulled out a handful of flashsticks and handed them to Maddy.

  "Here! These should come in handy."

  "What are they?"

  "Chits for complimentary stuff—free meals, entertainment, and the like. I get tons of this sent to me as a 'media personality,' but I'm never gonna use all this crap. Hell, there's enough there in meal chits alone that your whole family could eat free for the next six months."

  Maddy's eyes started to mist up. "Thank you . . . I don't know what to say."

  Misa made a dismissive gesture. "Oh, don't worry about it. I got tired of lugging it around. Just one thing? If you ever decide you want your story told, could you give me a jingle? Please? I can't help it—I'm still a reporter."

  "Okay, okay. If we do tell our story, you get first crack at it. Deal?" Maddy put out her hand.

  Misa took it and shook. "Deal"

  When they returned to their room later in the evening, there were two messages for Lee. The first message was from their insurance company. The sender apologized profusely and conveyed regrets that "due to the large volume of claims from the recent incident," the turnaround time on their claim might be "indefinitely prolonged." The other message was from the Solar Guard—the first good news all day. Because of the hardship the Kurchowskys sustained, the Guard tagged their slug with a beacon, and would delay classifying it as a navigational hazard for the next six months. Also, the slug would be tracked and monitored by picket cutters in the area to safeguard it from possible theft.

  There was no way they could get to the slug, or sell it, but at least their nest egg was safe for now. In the Grand Scheme of Things, the scales were tipped well away from them. But this small victory, as well as the meal at the five-star restaurant Misa's chits had provided, gave them reason to celebrate.

  After they sent Kat and Shelby to bed early, Lee and Maddy resumed the celebration the SWS warning had interrupted—and continued to celebrate throughout the night.

  * * *

  They had visitors the following evening. Maddy answered the chime and found Misa outside their door with a slender, severe-faced woman and a chubby, gregarious man in tow.

  "Misa?" she asked, somewhat puzzled. "What can I do for you?"

  "Actually, Maddy, it's what these nice people I found wandering around the spaceport can do for you. May we come in?"

  She nodded. "Sure, make yourself at home."

  The voices drew Lee out of the bedroom. "Maddy, what's going on?"

  "Mr. Kurchowsky?" the man asked. "Hi, I'm Gunther Faber, the president of the Mars Technological Institute, and next to me is Cora Patel. She's the Director of Research and Development for Olympus Heavy Industries. We need to talk."

  The group sat around the table in the suite's small dining room, and Faber took a data pad out of his pocket and switched it on. "We would have got here sooner, but, with the disaster, it was hell chartering a fast courier. On the flight, I was looking at your cover letter, and I have to say that I'm impressed."

  Lee nodded. "So, are you interested in the rest of my data?"

  "Hah!" Faber grinned. "I hate to break it to you, but we really don't want your data; we want you. I'd like to offer you a position with our School of Applied Metallurgy. From what little I've seen, the data looks impressive—but not nearly as impressive as the man who put it together does. Granted, we couldn't pay you the high salaries SSW and LAM offered, but you definitely wouldn't be hurting."

  His grin widened. "Plus, you get your summers off."

  "Wow." Lee shook his head in amazement. "Sounds nice, Mr. Faber. We'd move to Mars then?"

  "Yup! Oh, and it's 'Gunther.' And, as of sixty years ago, you wouldn't even need to pack a respirator."

  "Oh, I know that—believe me I know! Maddy's originally from Mars, and that's the first detail she beat into me."

  "We're moving to Mars!" Kat's voice squealed from the other bedroom. "That'd be great! If we're on Mars, it'll be a local call to talk to Roger."

  Maddy narrowed her eyes, and her tone was stern.. "Kat . . ."

  Sigh. "Ye-e-e-s, Mom." The Pout reappeared, and Kat went back into her room.

  "You're from Mars?" Patel asked. "Which family?"

  "The MacBride clan. My parents are Aaron and Tammy."

  "Ah. I've met your mother." Cora shifted uncomfortably. "She's an . . . interesting woman."

  Maddy laughed. "You have my sympathies! She's the reason I joined the Guard. Sure, the duty, the honor, and the sense of pride had a lot to do with it, but getting out from under Tamara MacBride's roof was the main factor."

  Patel's severe features cracked into a warm smile, and she actually giggled. "That was much less awkward than I was afraid it would be."

  Cora regained her composure slightly, but the whole severe facade was completely gone. "I guess we should get back to business. You're probably not going to like it, Mr. Kurchowsky—"

  "'Lee,' please, and 'Maddy,' please as well. If that's all right with you, hon?"

  Maddy nodded.

  "Then it's 'Cora' for me. Anyway, you're not going to like it, Lee, but what I'm going to offer you would eat up the summers that Gunther says you'll have off. We're right now developing an automated solar smelter that can produce high-grade B-steel, and we'd like to retain you as a consultant. I'm sure we could make it worth your while to give up your summers, along with the occasional weekend. Interested?"

  Cora and Gunther leaned forward in anticipation.

  "This is a little overwhelming," Lee said in an incredulous voice. "I'd have to think about—OW!"

  Maddy cuffed him on the side of the head and stage-whispered, "Say 'yes,' stupid."

  "Yes!" Then he became serious. "I wouldn't have to go anywhere near the sun, would I?"

  Both Gunther and Cora shook their heads emphatically.

  "No, Lee," Cora reassured him. "That's why we're developing the automated platform. We think that, with MTI's analysis of your data, and whatever advice you can give us, we can make sure no one has to go back there, at least to make B-steel."

  "Okay. That sounds good." Lee looked over and saw the utter relief in Maddy's eyes.

  "Now there is one more matter," Cora said. "We'd like to procure an engineering sample of high-grade B-steel, preferably with ninety percent purity or higher. We want to buy your slug. Unfortunately, there's a catch; we're having a cash-flow problem right now, so we can't pay for the slug up front."

  Before Lee could protest, she held up a hand. "No, we're not broke! You will get paid, and paid in full. Financially, we're making money hand over fist. Our employees are getting paid, and will continue to do so. But, right now, our cash-conversion cycle is a complete mess. We've got the cycle so skewed, that we're paying our vendors before our customers pay us, and it's going to take twelve to eighteen months to get everything straightened out—but it will get straightened out. So, in the interim, while we can't give you any large amounts of cash, aside from your consulting fee, we can give you an advance in the form of goods. Would you be interested in a house?"

  "A house? You'd buy us a house?"

  "No, not buy—give. There's a housing surplus on Mars, and one of the things we did a few years ago to boost recruitment was to build several homes, and offer them to prospective employees. Normally, they live in the houses, rent-free, for the first two years of employment. After that, it's theirs with no strings attached."

  "Isn't that a little costly?"

  "Not really. Right now, real estate is dirt cheap on Mars, and it really doesn't cost us that much to put up a decent home. We don't have all of the red tape and fees you have to deal with to build
a house on Earth. For the price of building a one-bedroom house on Earth, we can build ten three- or four-bedroom homes. We can build thirty of those same homes for the price of a condo on an L5 station. Besides, what's really costly in the long run is not attracting good people. Believe it or not, even with that incentive, we've barely been able to fill ten percent of those homes.

  "Your case is a little different. We'd just give you the house outright, sell you it actually, with the assessed value—and we'd go with the lowest price—deducted from what we pay you for the slug. We'll also put in a clause that, if the price of B-steel drops by the time our cash flow gets back on track—though I don't see why it would—we'll still buy the slug from you at today's value. However, if the price goes up, we'll pay you that price for it. Yes, we will put it in writing—and you can have any lawyer you want go over it. Just remember: we may be a big outfit for Mars, but we're still small enough we can't afford to screw people over. So, you have a slug you want to sell?"