Episode 88, The next newest thing
11 Aug 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Episode 88, The next newest thing
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Leaning back against the bar, the fiery liquid burned smoothly with each sip. Tara sampled a couple of drinks herself, though more for appearances than any effect it would have on her. Unlike the enlisted bars on the lower decks, with their various states of lighting and debauchery, the upper officer's lounge was well-lit with a large picturesque window, looking out among the stars. Wisps of smoke and the sweet tinge of tobacco permeated the air.
Most of the tobacco had been purchased from different systems, but a portion had been grown locally in one of the carrier’s botanical gardens. The local variant was a hand-rolled savory blend. Everyone has hobbies, and more often than not, a crewman’s hobby could be beneficial if not profitable. They sold the fruits of their labor, and no one could blame them for it.
Most of the mission had gone well. The Coterie had full cargo holds, and I ended up with a new cargo pilot, even if I did have to fight him for it. If Meredith’s demonstrated skills continued in my employ, he would go far in this business. What to do with his daughter, Ashlyn, wasn’t even a question. There were more than enough androids and learned humans onboard that were capable of tutoring her in the basic subjects. From all appearances, Meredith had done well on his own as a solo parent.
The only issue that remained was that of Raven, and any of the other Coterie who had discovered a conscience far too late in their chosen career. It was a given that Tara had been attempting to process and correlate all of what had taken place, and that there would be some conflicts within her morality sub-routines. She didn’t need to say anything for her mannerisms to manifest what was taking place within.
Once she analyzed the larger narrative and placed it into its proper context, her routines would be satiated. The worst of our kind would have sold them as slaves. We were not of that ilk. None of what was taken was a hindrance to their continued survival, but it would not be at the level of comfort that they might have been used to. In time, that situation could be remedied. Our kind were not without a heart. The Coterie operated from payment to payment; we did not, but first things were first.
Everyone wanted to get paid, and the carrier’s chief bartender and fence, Leila Bakir, was already hard at work. The data recovered during the repetitive installation raid would provide the funding for Meredith’s new ship. The Type 8 was due to release at any moment, and a space had already been made in the hangar for it, once it was purchased and properly engineered.
That same data was being sold to commanders who were filling their coffers as quickly as possible with all the materials and data that would be required to engineer their own, and Leila was selling it to them, with a minor markup but below what others were asking. Already sale orders had been filled, and the first cigar of the relative evening hadn’t even been smoked.
Leila walked down to our side of the bar, keeping her face expressionless as she leaned across.“131,231,479 million credits for a single divergent scan data, from your first run.”
Tara, conscious of her visual posturing did not tilt her head. “The asking price was two million.”
Leila allowed herself a smile. “While we don’t encourage it, but commanders often get into bidding contests against each other.”
Puffing rings of sweet tobacco, my eyes turned to look at Tara, who processed the information and nodded in confirmation, but not in understanding. While her mental capabilities were far more capable than our simple human minds, performance did not equal experience. Once she had time to process and contextualize what had taken place, she would be more adept. My curiosity was in how this would manifest itself in her evolutionary development.
Savoring the smoke, I turned my head far enough where I could look at Leila out of the corner of my eye. “Make sure Nadine contacts the Coterie and asks if they have any products they want to move.”
Tara tactically waited for Leila to move on with her tasks before leaning in towards my ear.
“I am confused. Raven has an issue with the inhabitants of the target but still fills his holds full of their goods. Isn’t that hypocritical?”
The whiskey did pair well with the tobacco, maybe too good, as a more recent memory of killing a bottle in this same place, not too long ago, reappeared in my mind.
“The intersection between conscious and perception. He perceives a need for the goods as he believes what he can sell them for is necessary for his survival, at the expense of others he incorrectly believes are innocent. None of what he is thinking is correct and it is screwing with the hubris of his morality.”
Tara laughed as she narrowed her eyes, batting her eyelashes, and none of it was programmed mimicry. “The more you drink the more philosophical you become.”
Setting my drink back on the bar, I looked down its length toward Leila, who nodded her head before turning my attention back to Tara, whose playful expression changed to one of amused curiosity. I took one final puff on my cigar, winking at her, before taking her hand and leading her towards the exit.
“We should enjoy our free time tonight. Tomorrow’s going to get interesting.”
I rested for a couple of hours, allowing Tara to enter her maintenance mode, before I sneaked out of our suite and made my way to the bridge to book an Apex shuttle. I knew it was a long way around, and it would have been easier to have someone on the carrier ferry me to my destination. With the traffic congestion I had anticipated, jumping the carrier itself near my destination was not an option.
Jameson Memorial in the Shinrarta Dezhra system was accessible by permit only, and that required the commander to be ranked as an elite in at least one recognizable category by the Pilot’s Federation, whose headquarters were located in that system. They didn’t care what the pilot did for a living; only that they met the approved criteria.
Being a long-standing triple elite like myself didn’t come with any benefits other than bragging rights, and I had never met another triple who cared about bragging. At this stage of our shared careers, it no longer mattered. What mattered was access to Jameson Memorial orbital station, where every ship and module type was for sale.
I had already placed my pre-order for the new Type 8 ship along with a list of specific module types. There wouldn’t be any need for me to stand in any lines or wait for the next available attendant. This was a simple transfer of myself from the Apex shuttle pad to the designated hangar where she was waiting, energize her systems, and get out of the overly congested system as quickly as I could without anyone running into me in their rushed attempts to get inside and be the next person in line.
The remainder of my relative day would be spent getting used to the new craft while performing the necessary extended-range trips to each of the engineers on my list, who could modify my selected modules into the proper configurations for this ship's intended multipurpose roles.
Tara would be disappointed at first to find out I had left without her, but it wouldn’t take her neurological matrix long to figure out why I had done it. The last thing anyone needed was for her to be deeply scanned and for the revelation of her true identity to be discovered. Not that it mattered on the rim, but there would be no shortage of bounty hunters who would come out and seek to terminate what the Imperium, Federation, and Alliance had already signed into their laws as an illegal abomination.
To smooth over any potential ruffled feathers, though I did not expect any, I sent a message to Tara outlining where I was and what I was doing. It was far easier for me alone to take the new ship and get what needed to be done while gaining experience in flying it so that I could instruct others in any unique characteristics that would show themselves during the long journeys.
The majority of the engineers in the bubble liked to be far removed from the others, which made me miss the simplicity of Colonia. Fortunately, one of the engineers was near the system where my carrier was located, which would make the end of the engineering run easier. To facilitate the speed at which I wanted things to happen, I messaged Chief Diego with a list of assorted modules that were already onboard the carrier. The moment I returned and landed, his department could begin the installation of the final listed items, which wouldn’t take them more than an hour of relative time. That time could be used to give everyone a quick tour.
The Type 8 had been designed from the frame up to be compatible with the new overcharge drives, giving it the ability to reach long inner system ranges. They envisioned this new ship as a cargo carrier, with the capacity to exceed that of any other medium pad capable ship. While hauling cargo was nice for building initial profit and reputation with various system factions, the cargo I intended was far more lucrative.
Though I could outfit her for pirating, of which she was capable, my Python was far better for that role. It could also be reconfigured for business passenger missions, in which it excelled in both domains with equal skill, but was more of a pirate at heart. The Type 8 would allow me to keep the Python in its pirating role and give me the flexibility of having a dedicated business, first-class passenger, or large cargo hauler with extended inner system range capabilities.
Of the two, the Python could transport 64 business clientele, 39 first-class passengers, and/or 212 tons of cargo. The Type 8, as it was being engineered, could transport 74 business clientele, 51 first-class passengers, and/or 336 tons of cargo, considerably boosting its profit-making potential per trip.
The one area I was particularly adamant about was the ship's hull. I knew that adapting its design to a reactive surface composite would cost it a small amount of overall range, but it was a small price to pay for having a dynamic surface that could better absorb kinetic impacts while reducing fragmentation spalling on the interior. This would provide better protection for the ship's occupants, whether the impacts came from another ship or from space debris and micrometeorites.
I paused, seeing my reflection on the front of the bridge canopy. If my mentors could see me now I think they would agree with the choices that brought me to this moment, and laugh that I was now trapped by them. That thought gave me a much-needed laugh as I programmed the next destination into the navigation computer.