Trading in Danger (9 page)

“So when he came back…”

“He didn’t come back,” the man said sourly. “The next Pavrati ship wasn’t the right one, and we knew that. We didn’t even ask. Then no Pavrati ship came for another one hundred twenty days, twice as long as usual. We’d queried, of course, but they had no explanation. When that one arrived, it didn’t have our machinery, or any explanation. It wasn’t the same ship, or the same captain, and he knew nothing about our shipment. We’d asked FarmPower in Sabine if the goods had been picked up, and they’d assured us they had. So at least the captain hadn’t spent our credit on fancy clothes.” For a moment the man’s gaze rested on Ky’s formal captain’s cloak, as if it were encrusted with precious gems.

“That must have been very confusing,” Ky said.

“Confusing and infuriating. FarmPower claimed they’d delivered our goods to the ship we specified, and they had no further responsibility. Pavrati, when we finally got a reply from them, said that taking goods aboard outbound and carrying them on the long legs of the circuit would result in storage charges in addition to shipping charges, whereas we had prepaid only base shipping from Sabine to Belinta. They tried to charge us for the balance right then and there, said it should have been prepaid. And besides, they said, the ship had never arrived at its next stop and was listed missing.”

“Insurance?” Ky asked.

He glared at her as if she had just insulted him. “Insurance! Do you have any idea what insurance charges are for a cargo like that? We’re a young colony; we don’t have money to throw around. Of course we had some insurance. But not full value. The insurance company won’t settle until we can give a cause for nondelivery, and for that we need a statement from Pavrati. They say they won’t sign it until we pay what we owe for storage, and we aren’t going to pay for storage and shipping of goods that never arrived.”

“I see,” Ky said. “And you want someone to bring a new order?” She had never been to Sabine; she wasn’t entirely sure what the standard routing was, whether Vatta had regular service there.

“Yes,” the man said. “But we aren’t paying first this time—it’s pay on delivery.”

“Our policy,” Ky said, “requires at least a deposit on account. You’re asking me to change my schedule—”

“We’re not going to be cheated again!” the man said. “You Slotter Key pirates—”

Ky put up her hand. “A moment. Vatta Transport, Ltd., are not pirates; we are licensed, bonded transporters.”

“It’s all the same,” the man said. “Take our money, and for nothing—”

“Has anything consigned to Vatta ever failed to reach its destination here?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Then—”
Don’t blame us because you didn’t have sense enough to hire us
was hardly tactful. “Not all firms are alike,” Ky said instead. “Vatta Transport is sorry that you have not been served well by another firm, and that this incident has damaged the image of Slotter Key businesses.”

“I suppose it’s not actually your fault,” the man said. “But we’re so far out—”

Which wasn’t Ky’s fault. Was this the time to push for a mutually agreeable solution?

“What do you think happened to the Pavrati ship?” the man asked.

“I don’t know,” Ky said. “They could have had a drive failure—”

“Drive failure! You mean—that happens?”

“Yes,” Ky said. “Usually going into or coming out of FTL space. Any little bit of debris in the jump lane can cause that much damage—it’s why we only travel to places with a decent traffic control crew. Or they might have collided with something bigger—” Leaving a dangerous smear of debris on the mapped routes. “Piracy you mentioned—they could have been intercepted somewhere—”

“But surely Pavrati would have told us about any of that—”

“No,” Ky said. “In the first place, they may not know what it is yet, and in the second place they won’t want it known, lest someone else profit by the knowledge.”

“Seems ridiculous,” the man said. “They should at least tell our insurance company…”

“If they know, yes. But when a ship disappears… space is big and ships are small.”

“Ships really do disappear… they’re not lying about that?”

“Ships can,” Ky said. Across her mind ran the list of Vatta Transport, Ltd.’s disappearances. They had a good record, the result of prudence, hard work, and another dollop of prudence on top. The spaceways, her father had said when she first mentioned the Academy, offer risk enough.

“Well, then…” His voice firmed. “Your consul tells me you have the authority to decide if you want this contract. As I said, we aren’t going to pay in advance this time. What are your rates?”

“We have no consignments for Sabine,” Ky said. “Nothing we can sell there.” She had tried to find something in the cargo for Lastway that would sell on Sabine, but nothing fit. “And you have no consignments, either, do you?”

“No. We’ve never had exports to Sabine.”

“Well, then. That means it’s a dry run over, and a paying cargo back. If we’re not getting an advance, that means a surcharge for the extra distance—”

He scowled.

“Think about it,” Ky said. “You want us to go out of our way, without profit on one leg; if we know we’re going somewhere, we carry cargo there, and that means we only need to charge each shipper for the distance their cargo actually travels. Now, have you asked for bidders again, or are you planning to buy from FarmPower?”

“Well… no.”

“Well, then,” Ky said. “Let me suggest this…”

The haggling continued for hours, with breaks for refreshments, but in the end she had what she thought was an acceptable deal. She had missed the polo match, but she didn’t much care.

The closer she came to the station, the more reluctant she felt to tell her crew, her experienced baby-sitting crew, about her bright idea and the contract she’d signed. What would they think? Would they insist on telling her father? She was the captain. She had to approve all communications. Would that stop them?

Gary Tobai met her at dockside. “How’d it go?”

“I need to talk to you,” Ky said. “You and Quincy, anyway.”

“Trouble?”

“No. My office, when you can.”

“Now works for me,” he said, dashing her hope that she could have a few minutes to think up how to say it. “I’ll get someone on dock watch, and callQuincy—ten minutes?”

“Fine,” Ky said. She went quickly to her quarters and tried to organize her thoughts. Quincy and Gary appeared long before she felt ready.

“So… what is it?”Quincyasked as she came in. The tone said “What have you done now, youngster, and how hard is it going to be to fix it?”

“We have a contract,” Ky said.

“A contract. You mean—another contract? You do remember the assignment is to take this ship to Lastway and scrap her…”

“Yes, I remember. But trade and profit is trade and profit. Belinta was our only time-defined delivery. The goods for Leonora and Lastway are all spec. This is a profit run.”

Quincy’s mouth tightened. “How much?”Garyasked. “And what do we have to do to get it?”

Ky explained about the Pavrati failure to deliver a prepaid order, and the Economic Development Bureau’s urgent desire for agricultural machinery before their attempt to open theHamilValleyto farm settlements failed.

“And the profit,” she said, ignoring the twitch inGary’s cheek, “is enough—with the profit we can reasonably expect from the sale of our Lastway trade goods—to do a refit at some reasonable yard, enough to bring her up to spec.” Or almost.

“Hmmmm.”Quincylooked down. Ky couldn’t read her expression.

“Payment or profit?”Garyasked.

“Profit,” Ky said. She tensed, knowing the next question.

“So how much is the advance?”

“Well… actually… they’ll pay on delivery. They paid Pavrati in advance, and the manufacturer in advance, and they don’t trust us.”

“So… you’re talking a spec run, and… do we have to pay for the merchandise?”

“Yes,” Ky said. “But it’s hard goods; if they don’t cough up, we can sell it somewhere else. And we get a residual, the rights to any insurance settlement.”

Quincylet out a stifled sound and buried her face in her hands.

“What?” Ky said. “It’s not that bad an idea…”

Quincylooked up; tears rolled down her face, and her shoulders shook. She was laughing, Ky realized, laughing so hard she couldn’t speak.

Gary, when she glanced at him, was grinning. “Ky,Ky,Ky.We wondered how long it would take.”

“How long what would take?”

“You. So prim, so proper, so very earnest—” He chuckled, and shook his head. “I knew it wouldn’t last. It never does.”

Ky felt her neck going hot. They were treating her like a child, and—

“You’re so Vatta, is what he means,”Quincysaid, through the laughter she was trying to control. “Trade and profit, right? If there’s an angle—and then it is your first ship.” She shook her head, still laughing.

“The thing is,”Garysaid, “there was no way you were going to take this ship off to scrap if you could help it. I’ll bet you that you’d been wondering if you could possibly earn enough for a refit before you ever got aboard.”

“Not… exactly,” Ky said. They were both grinning now, not sarcastic grins, but genuine glee. “You knew,” she said. “You knew all along… did my father know?” Gaspard must have known, she realized. He must have assumed that any Vatta would find a way to save a ship from scrap.

“He knows you,”Quincysaid. “I don’t suppose he knew about the Pavrati nondelivery, no, but he knew you.”

“I think Ted got it,”Garysaid toQuincy.

“Depends on how we set the time,”Quincysaid. “From the time she made the contract, or from telling us?”

“Now what are you talking about? Ted got what?” Ky asked.

“The ship’s pool,”Quincysaid. “Actually we had two, one for you taking a contract, and one for you figuring out a different way to make a profit.”

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Ky said. She had not even imagined a ship’s pool on her performance. “You were all sure I’d try to save the ship?”

“Did anyone pick no?”GaryaskedQuincy.

“I don’t think so,”Quincysaid. “I’d have to look at all the entries so far.”

“Just what did you expect me to come up with?”

“Who could guess?”Quincysaid with a shrug. “First-run captains have done all sorts of things. There’ve even been a few who followed exactly the line they’d been given, but most of those end up working for someone else. Now—let’s take a look at this contract you signed. Spec, and we have to buy the goods up front?”

“Yes.”

“Could be worse,”Garysaid. “You’ve got a letter of credit from the family, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Ky said. “It’s on Crown & Spears at Lastway, but that should be negotiable elsewhere, but we also have the payment on delivery for the cargo we brought in. That’s actually Vatta Transport, money, though. I’d rather not use it.”

“Quite right,”Garysaid.

“So, I thought Sabine Prime,” Ky said. “The Economic Development Bureau has given me the specs for what they want. Sabine has several manufacturers of the kind of equipment they want, plus used-equipment dealers.”

“Is that where they ordered it from in the first place?”

“Yes. From FarmPower. But they’d take equivalent stock from another manufacturer, or used, in order to get something here quickly, they said. And that’s in the contract.” Ky pointed out the relevant paragraph.

“And how much do you know about farm machinery?”Quincyasked.

“Me?” Ky said. “Nothing. But there are books, and it’s two months to Sabine.” Quincy and Gary both rolled their eyes. “What? You don’t think I can learn?”

“Mitt may know,”Garysaid. “But let me see that—we may have a load problem.”

“I checked the hold layouts,” Ky said.

“Yeah, but… some of these brutes will have to be disassembled, and then—we have to shift the Lastway cargo around. We aren’t fully loaded, but we’ll need easier access in these tight spaces…”

“Store some of it here,”Quincysaid. “They aren’t paying in advance, so they can store our stuff free.”

“It’s worth trying,”Garysaid.

Somewhat to Ky’s surprise, the Bureau of Economic Development was willing to put Ky’s Lastway cargo into storage for no fee, as security against their timely return. Ky hadGarycheck out the sealed storage facility; to her it looked like any other sealed storage facility. They had no special requirements, so she wasn’t nearly as concerned about temperature, pressure, and so on as about pilferage.

“The locks and seals are good quality,” he reported. “If something goes missing, it’ll be because someone used the main hatch and the key for it.”

“What do we do if they do?” she asked.

“We have their ag machinery, and we keep their ag machinery until they return our cargo.”

This was getting more complicated by the minute. Ky extracted Aunt Gracie’s fruitcakes from the rest of the cargo—maybe she could unload them on Sabine, and they fit into one of the lockers in her cabin—and signed off on the stowage contract.

Glennys Jones
eased away from Belinta Station under her own power—Belinta’s single tug service being occupied with an insystem carrier—and Ky tried not to fret. Ted Barash, Mitt’s assistant in Environmental, had indeed won the pool, and used it to treat everyone to a meal just before they left. Ky tucked a mint she’d saved from the dessert tray into her mouth and went back to her calculations. Two months to Sabine. Say a week to locate the machinery, a week to do the paperwork, some days to load—to be safe another week—and then two months back to Belinta, and a week to unload, process the paper, reload with their Lastway cargo. Five months, all told, by which time the family would expect to hear that she was in Lastway, though Lastway would still be four months away.

She would have to let them know sometime, she told herself. But when? Not now, when they might tell her to stop, or send someone to help her fix her mistakes. Maybe once she had the cargo loaded at Sabine Prime? Or when she was back here and they’d be expecting word anyway?

The imagined message appeared in her mental vision, expressed in perky tones unlike her own:

No. Definitely not.
Slight delay, don’t worry
wasn’t much better.

She forced her mind away from the wording of a message she didn’t have to send for several months, at least, and called up the ship’s reference library. Farm machinery. She knew what they used in the tik plantations back home; she had even been sentenced to a fortnight of hard labor—as she’d called it, bootlessly, at the time—driving one of the harvesters.

The Belinta Economic Development Bureau wanted ag machinery to convert thick forest into productive farmland. As a colony world with limited repair and manufacturing facilities, they wanted machines designed specifically for such use—very rugged, low maintenance, easily repaired. They were willing to trade off the advantages of multipurpose machines for the increased life-span of a dedicated single-purpose machine.

What they’d really wanted—what they had intended to have—were draft animals, horses and oxen, self-replicating, self-repairing, long-lived, but they’d been overruled by the aristos among them. Instead of draft animals, they had polo ponies—all owned by the rich, who weren’t about to let them pull a cart, let alone a plow. The machine equivalents were faster, if they worked, but right now they had nothing but small tillers people had planned to use in their gardens. Hardly suitable for serious farm work.

So—tractors to pull various field equipment. Multigang plows, harrows, planters, harvesters. Rugged trucks to haul their produce on rough roads. Ky thought they were making a mistake not to include road-building machinery in this order, but they were the customer.

She compared the specs the EDB had given her to the information in the database, and found nothing that the EDB hadn’t told her. All these things were fairly standard, and should be easy to find. The database also had the current market value of the equipment, in the currency of several systems. Unless Sabine Prime’s prices were over the top, she should have enough for the cargo.

It was going to work. She shut down the library link and allowed herself to relax. She’d been through it again and again, on her own and with Gary and Quincy. It was a good plan, and it had no obvious holes in it.

So why this nagging cold chill that ran up and down her spine? She told herself it was just the leftover loss of self-confidence from that mess with Mandy Rocher. Naturally she would distrust her own judgment for a while. But this had nothing to do with Mandy or Miznarii politics. This was just straight-up trade and profit, something she’d known about since childhood. Simple, straightforward, easy. It was all going to work.

Endim transition felt even rougher with no cargo aboard; Ky would have crossed her toes for luck if she could.

“We really do need to get that tuned,”Quincysaid, when the vibrations settled down. “It’s degrading faster than I thought it would, to be honest. There’s a pretty good shipyard on Sabine that could do us an interim fix, probably wouldn’t take more than three or four days.”

“And how much money?” Ky asked.

“We’d have to ask.”

“We don’t have much,” Ky said. “We can’t draw on the company accounts for this—the ship’s not authorized for repairs. And we’re using my letter of credit to cover expenses.” Maybe she should have been bolder about taking the Belinta delivery payment herself instead of depositing it to Vatta Transport, Ltd.

“I know,”Quincysaid. “I thought she had at least ten more transitions in her, but that last one wrenched something. If she’s that rough coming back out, we’ll have to get it fixed. If not—I suppose we could risk the trip back to Belinta, but I’d rather get something done. I’ve only got the three engineers, you know.”

“There’s nothing we can do now?” Ky asked, already knowing there wasn’t.

Quincyshook her head. “Sealed unit. It either works right or it starts degrading. I’ll tear down the supports, try rebalancing before we shift back, but I don’t think it’s the supports. I think it’s the unit itself.”

Fine. A rotten little sealed unit the size of a large suitcase could mess up her whole plan. To keep herself from hovering behindQuincy’s shoulder during the rebalancing, she took out the ship model and forced herself to work on it. Even if it did remind her of what she’d lost, it was better than driving her crew insane. She kept up her exercise periods, using one of the now-empty holds. In a way, she found it reassuring that she did not need the rigid schedule of the Academy, the shouting of instructors, to make herself exercise. But then, she reminded herself, lack of initiative had never been her problem.

She was back on the bridge for the down transition; she could not help noticing how many of the crew found it necessary to be there as well. She nodded to Riel, who gave the slightest shrug before touching the controls.

Down transition brought them out where they should be—whatever was giving
Glennys
the problem didn’t seem to affect navigation, at least—but that was all the good news. The ship trembled, creaked, even groaned as vibration stressed her structual members. Ky clenched her teeth to keep from crying out along with her ship. It felt like hours, but only a few minutes passed on the ship’s chronometer. Finally it steadied. Several new status lights came up red.

“Mandatory repairs,”Quincysaid. “We have to replace that sealed unit.”

Ky didn’t argue. She could still feel a faint tremor in the ship’s fabric. She certainly didn’t want to take this ship back through endim transition again without a repair. Instead, she began downloading Sabine local information. Sabine’s manufacturers, drawing on a wealth of raw materials in their system, produced solid, basic agriculture, mining, and construction equipment for many of the colony worlds in this sector. Their advance sales information systems offered everything Ky needed to plan the stowage of their intended cargo. Sabine also offered a variety of ship services, from consumables to complete refitting.