Episode 90 , A new Fare
14 Aug 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Episode 90 , A new Fare
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The drab surroundings of the carrier’s brig offered no solace as Chief Armorer Mahmoud Farouk stood near Ceri, the former pilot of the Anaconda Sedona. Dr. Jansen finished his examination and pronounced her rattled and bruised from her ordeal and subsequent ejection in an escape pod. The other two members of her crew were still in their escape pods, silent in their hibernation slumber.
Bartender and fence for the faction that Ceri belonged to, Beau McDonald, had been ferried to the carrier from the next system over to take possession of his faction’s brood—a look of amusement on his face.
Tara leaned against the bulkhead, propped with one leg on the deck and the other against the wall, as Beau handed me back the data tablet he had been given, containing a complete recording of the events leading up to this moment.
Beau was a good business partner, but he knew that any cargo confiscated and now in my hold was mine to sell. Of course, he also knew that I would be selling it back to his group, and they would pay for it, if for no other reason than as compensation for the annoyance their own members had caused.
Stuffing the tablet back into the cargo pocket of my suit, I nodded my head toward Ceri.
“Once I realized these errant plebs belonged to your organization, I thought you might want them back for retraining, or to work off the cost of the ship they lost.”
A low, guttural chuckle sounded from Beau’s throat as he glared at a visibly trembling Ceri; her eyes stayed low as her mind raced through the numerous scenarios that might be waiting for her.
“An Anaconda, bested by a Type 8 transport,” Beau growled, his glare intensifying, causing Ceri to tremble even more.
This one wasn’t too far gone into the stereotypical morass. She could be saved and molded into something more, but she wasn’t my responsibility.
It was all I could do to maintain a neutral expression and not laugh. I knew Beau’s tactic was more for show than any real anger. He wanted to make sure Ceri paid the price for her miscalculation, and he knew, as did I, that often the worst price a person could pay was what they conjured in their own imaginations.
Tara pushed herself off the bulkhead and walked over to Ceri, grabbing her by the chin and lifting her head up so that their eyes would meet. She turned Ceri’s head from side to side before releasing it, huffing in feigned disgust.
“Not enough meat on that bone to do anything with,” Tara commented in her best mimicry of a dismissive and unimpressed tone. “I thought about keeping it to work off the price of ammunition it cost us, or giving her to Svetlana as a new attraction, but that would ruin our reputation with our business clientele.”
Beau regarded her for a moment longer before turning his back.
“I wasted my lunch hour to come out here to retrieve this? Now I don’t know if my gut is rumbling due to hunger or disgust.” Beau, with his back, turned to Ceri, winked at me, and I almost lost control.
“I hear you have an android master chef on the officer’s mess deck. I would satiate myself with something that has been properly trained before I become too nauseous with those who are not.”
Extending my arm toward the entrance, I was a second away from bursting into laughter. There were moments when I wished I had Tara’s programmed control, and this one definitely qualified. As Beau passed by us, I glanced at Chief Farouk. I could see the lines in his jaw had deepened as he was having the same issue.
Once we had made our way to the lift and the doors had closed, we both let ourselves go, laughing so hard tears were streaming down our faces.
To my surprise, I learned that Scyles had managed to escape his time as an indentured slave with Beau’s faction. Not that it mattered much—there was little he could do in a merchant ship, and even less he could do on the rim where many of the surrounding systems were administered by Beau’s faction. If Scyles managed to evade capture or disintegration, there was nowhere he could really go that wasn’t far removed from civilization.
During a lavish meal where Beau gorged himself, Tara, demonstrating once again her superior neurological design, pitched an idea to Beau on what to do with Ceri. While she was a lesser-ranked member of his faction, her stint as the commander of the Sedona was her first solo command—one that she lost faster than she acquired due to underestimating the other ship and being overzealous.
Tara recounted the story of Meredith and his daughter and explained the true intention behind the Type 8—it wasn’t piracy, but ferrying around wealthy businessmen, including some from Beau’s own faction. Meredith’s prowess with a Type 7 would shine brighter in a ship that was far more capable, and Ceri could benefit from learning from someone whose intentions were far removed from piracy.
It reminded me of a story one of my old pirate mentors had told me: to pay attention to everyone who wasn’t in our profession, as they often were the best teachers. He was right then, just as Tara’s idea was brilliant now. Ceri could learn a lifetime’s worth of proper lessons and insights from the other side of the cannons and perhaps make something more of herself, regardless of which side she landed on in the end.
I intended to introduce Meredith to Beau at some point, and since Beau was here today, relatively speaking, now seemed better than any other time. I sent a communiqué for him to meet with us in my bridge office—a place I had rarely seen and one that Captain Akio used more than myself.
The bridge wing office was nicer than I remembered, but I still couldn’t see myself sitting behind that desk full-time. The couches and chairs were all well-cushioned and comfortable without being too gaudy. The bulkheads in this place were different from others in that they could project whatever was desired, in any combination of endless tabs or tiles. There was a large picture window off to one side of my desk that looked out onto the larger galaxy. While picturesque, the one item that interested me the most was the food and drink processor.
“Hell, I should come to work for you,” Beau commented, wasting no time relaxing into a nice recliner with a quirky look of satisfaction on his face.
“It’s more maneuvering between the lines than against any system authority, with a healthy dose of corporate piracy rather than ship-to-ship,” Tara quipped, her mouth curled up on one side with a smart-aleck, mischievous glint in her eyes.
Beau broke out into laughter as I leaned forward with my hands on the table, shaking my head. The chime at the door interrupted the moment as Captain Akio showed Meredith in, and Beau stood up.
I extended my arm towards one of the open chairs as Meredith walked in, nodding at each of us.
“Good to see you, Meredith, though I know you prefer Merry for short,” I said with a warm grin. “Tara you already know, and this jovial fellow is Beau McDonald. He’s the head purveyor for the neighboring systems.”
Beau nodded at Meredith before sitting back in the recliner, enjoying its soft cushions.
“I won’t keep you long, as I know you are still getting settled in. The reason I asked you to join us today is that the ship you will be using is almost ready for you to take command of. It’s a new Type 8, fresh off the factory floor and fully engineered. Once we have finished with her provisioning, she will be yours to command.”
Meredith nodded in greeting while finding a comfortable seat that allowed him to keep an eye on each of us. My grin remained as I noticed that, even in an office, his innate response was to watch his surroundings.
“You’re a good cargo pilot, and as your role with us will be completely legal, I haven’t had the chance to ask if you are familiar with transporting legitimate business and first-class passengers?”
Merry nodded, looking at Beau. “I have, and from what I’ve read of the factory specifications, the Type 8 would be adaptable to that role.”
Meredith leaned forward as the ship’s new specifications appeared on the bulkhead. “She has excellent carrying capacity, though, like all factory cargo designs, her cruising speed is low, even with the hottest engineered drives available. Her boost speed is excellent. The armor and firepower are also a nice touch.”
“I take it those have already been field-tested,” Meredith commented, leaning back in his chair.
“They have,” I stated, my eyes glancing briefly to Beau, “which brings up a question. Beau here has a prior pilot. She’s young, pleasant, and shows promise. Her recent career decisions need work, and we think she would be more adaptable to a legitimate role—with the right mentor. This would be if you’re willing, of course.”
“Do I have a choice?” Meredith asked, his tone wary.
“Yes, yes you do,” Tara replied flatly.
I keyed my forearm communicator. “Mr. Farouk, would you bring that young lady to my office?”
“Acknowledged.”
I knew what Meredith was thinking about all of this and what was going on in his mind. He was humoring us to protect his daughter without realizing that she was already protected, by the entire ship. Still, it was annoying.
“You’re not a prisoner here. As I said before, you have skill in a legitimate trade, and to repeat myself again, you’re contracted for that position. The terms of that contract apply and are far better than anything you’ll find anywhere else, including the massive organization Beau works for.”
Beau looked over at Meredith, nodding his head.
“The latest ship off the factory floor has been engineered to the highest levels, and if you like, it will be yours to command. If you’re not happy, you’re free to terminate your contract, and an Apex shuttle will be called to take you and your daughter anywhere you want.”
I didn’t like being an ass about it to an honest man trying to do right by his only child, but the point needed to be hammered into his thick skull.
He was seething at the rebuke but was disciplined enough to keep his composure.
“With business passengers, your rate is ten percent of the total. If you run five fares, you get ten percent of each.”
Tara folded her arms in an authoritative pose, looking at Meredith with a neutral expression. “Likewise, your suite here, all provisions, clothing, and access to any instructor—whether it be human, android, or AI—to continue your daughter’s education, remain free.”
Beau sat up straight in his chair, his eyes widening. “Damn, I do need to work for you!”
I huffed at that, in a playful manner. “You make better than I do.”
Beau laughed. “That’s a lot of biowaste. What did you net last week, sixty million?”
“About the same as you,” I replied, which gave Beau a good laugh.
I looked up at Tara and then back at Merry. “I’ve seen you fly. You’re a good pilot, and I wouldn’t want to lose you, but I won’t stand in the hatch.”
Beau raised an eyebrow, looking at me out of the corner of his eye as Meredith’s mind worked. You could feel the man’s inner rage in the air, but he knew a good deal when he saw it.
“I’m not used to leaving my daughter in another’s care,” he replied with a low grumble as the door chimed and opened, revealing Chief Farouk and Ceri, her eyes low, looking at the deck.
“Thank you, Chief,” Tara stated as she walked up to Ceri, motioning with her arm toward an empty chair.
Beau didn’t move from his comfortable seating as Ceri walked over and sat down. “This man sitting in the chair next to me is your new commander. You will work for him and learn from him. Your future status is dependent on how well you do.”
I studied her for a moment, knowing she was near a total panic attack.
“Ceri is the young lady we spoke of. She will be learning your trade and, hopefully, how to make better decisions. She will be living onboard your ship and will be your boatswain's mate…”
“I doubt there will be any issues,” Beau interrupted with a low growl.
I let the tense silence that followed hang in the air for a moment before leaning back in my chair and keying my forearm communicator.
“Miss Nguyen, what is the status of the provisioning of the Type 8?”
A few seconds of silence followed.
“Chief Diego has completed the conversion, and the attendant androids are stocking the supplies as we speak. She will be ready within the hour.”
I looked up at Tara, then at Ceri and Meredith.
“Acknowledged. I’m sending its commander and his boatswain down to you. Please have them visit Miss Sharif to be outfitted with their uniforms and any additional gear they might require.”
“I will be waiting for them. Nguyen out.”
I stood up and extended my hand toward Meredith, who stood up and shook it.
“Miss Nguyen is this ship’s boatswain. Any additional supplies and she is your go-to. Miss Sharif is the quartermaster and will see to any gear you two require.”
“Ashlyn?” Meredith asked, his concern clear.
Tara relaxed her posture, motioning toward the hatch. “She should accompany you for the moment until you two are comfortable with others of your choosing. Miss Sharif will see to her outfitting as well.”
“Give it a go and see how you like it. Don’t forget to micromanage the logs to maximize your profit. And should you have any issue, this ship is here to accommodate…”
“Yes, any issues,” Beau growled as Ceri kept her eyes low.