Economy of Scale
15 Dec 2020Elkyri
Good Enterprise3306.10.21
I've outgrown Xenia, my Cobra. It didn't take as long as I expected. She has been a fantastic workhorse. No; she is more than that. She feels more like a companion than a simple tool. It's her own fault, really, as she is what enabled me to bank the credits that make the next step possible so soon. Frankly, I'm a little reluctant to leave her but I console myself knowing she is safely stored in the moorings, awaiting my return should things come to that.
I've cranked the numbers and am convinced Nayla -- my spanking new LakonType 6 -- is going to carry us into the big time. With a capacity of a hundred tonnes we will be flipping a profit of at least two million credits a run. It's the economy of scale at work -- twice the profit in half the time. If I can find a short enough loop I think we're looking at about fifty million a day. That may sound like a lot but the high cost of the gear that goes on these ships is shocking and repairs and routine maintenance doesn't come cheap either.
Today is moving day. I've surprised myself with how much clutter I managed to accumulate in such a small space. I'll have a little more room in Nayla but I'm making a serious effort to downsize and shed myself of some of this.... this stuff. So much stuff. Life was much simpler when there was just barely enough room for me and a duffel bag in the Sidewinder. Simpler but not necessarily better, I guess.
I was doing the duffel bag drag through the terminal, getting the last load of personal gear stowed aboard Nayla, when I overheard a group of pilots talking about some sort of humanitarian crisis developing a hundred or so light years from here.
"They're hunting them down and shipping them off to work camps," the tallest one said. The name on the back of his jumper was Zeke. He was lean and gangly. Probably wasn't used to the station's earth-normal gravity. "They might as well be enslaving them. It's no wonder they're trying to get out of there, Moe."
"That doesn't mean we have to take them here," Moe said. "They're just bringing trouble. Yeah, you think it's just a bunch of women and kids but there are terrorists mixed in amongst them. I'm talking the sort that blow up women and children, not them sign-waving, slogan-shouting types.
"You've been standing there all quiet like, Alma," Moe said, turning to the other member of the group. "What's your take?"
Alma was more than a little older than her two companions, her salt-and-pepper gray hair hinting at decades of experience in the cockpit. She hesitated as though not wanting to take either side in the debate but not knowing how to get out of an answer. I stepped in to rescue her. "Who are these people," I asked.
"They call them Marlinists," Alma answered. "They are trying to reform the Empire's government. They want to make them more of a democracy. They're being persecuted for their political views so many of them have fled and taken refuge here.
"Look, Moe," she said, "I've heard that old worn out bit about one man's freedom fighter being another man's terrorist but they're people, just like us, and they're tired and hungry and just looking for a place to call home."
"They're rabble rousers and trouble makers," Moe exclaimed. "Not happy with the way things are. Wanting to change things. Upsetting the apple cart." He was beginning to sound angry. "You mark my words -- they're going to bring the Feds and the Imperials to logger heads and you know what they say: when elephants fight the grass gets trampled, and we're the grass!"
I ignored Moe and kept my gaze on Alma. "Here, as in right here?"
"No, around here. They've dispersed them out so as not to put too much of a load on any one system but there are so many of them that it's already straining resources. The Pilots' Federation is calling for deliveries of aid supplies. You know -- things like food cartridges, medicines, clothing and so on -- to help the locals deal with the shortages."
"You going to make those runs," I asked. I knew what her answer would be even before she opened her mouth.
"Yeah," she said, looking straight at Moe. "Yes, I am." She stood a little taller and turned back to me. "They're taking shipments at Fox Enterprise. I'm on my way there now to drop what I have then do a quick turn around for more. You?"
"Well, I have a new ship in need of a shakedown cruise. This run might just serve that purpose well enough, don't you think?"
I didn't wait for a response and left them staring after me as I dragged my bag to the waiting shuttle.