Once she was certain that Regan had indeed headed back to the very rearmost compartment of the ship and was thus not within sight or earshot, Lilliana unlocked the sophisticated communication console at her station. She opened a threadnet session, found the node for Rylea Port Control, and sent a voice chat request to the office of the Portmaster.
The decision to stick with audio only was a tough one… she felt she did her best work when she could play with video. FTL bandwidth was expensive, though, and she’d already gone into penny-pinching mode.
“This is Lilliana Cortana Corsair for the independent transport vessel Shays Rebellion, requesting immediate assistance from Rylea Port,” Lilliana said when the red dot on her screen turned green.
“This is Portmaster Vargess for Rylea Port,” a smooth, mellifluous voice replied. “What is the nature of your emergency?”
“We’re about midway through a Kelly Run, and due to drop cargo at Rylea, but we ran into some engine trouble,” Lilliana said. She knew that having business in Rylea would get them more sympathy and attention from the Portmaster than if they were just stopping over. “We’ve been forced to kill power as a result, and won’t be able to restart without some ground under us.”
There was no way anybody on the Rebellion could intercept her chat, but the story of the ship which coasted in at sub-light and had to be towed to port would definitely make for gossip fodder. There was no way she could count on it not working its way back to their own crew. For some of them, the Rebellion was home and family… but others would bolt rather than being stuck on a grounded ship.
“It’ll take five, ten minutes to scramble a tow barge,” the Portmaster advised her. “There will, of course, be a nominal fee for the use of men and materials necessary in the operation.”
“How much is nominal?” Lilliana asked suspiciously.
“About ten thousand credits,” Vargess said.
“How exactly is that ‘nominal’?” Lilliana asked, outraged.
“It’s the figure that I’ve named,” the smooth voice said, resolutely unperturbed by her reaction. “Therefore, it is a nominal figure.”
“I see,” Lilliana said, pursing her lips. It was highway robbery, of course, but she could see no way around accepting the tow… and of course, it would be a drop in the bucket compared to the cost of refueling. On the other hand, she’d never been one to spend money unnecessarily. “I’m afraid I am not authorized to commit that kind of funds.”
“I see,” the Portmaster replied. “Well, if you neither accept towing nor correct your engine problems, then that leaves you on a collision course with our quiet little town, and I’m afraid something must be done about that, one way or another.”
“Surely, you wouldn’t…” Lilliana said, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging.
“Well, it’s not something I much like to do,” Vargess admitted. “While it is slightly cheaper for us to blow an incoming ship into pieces small enough for our field to screen out than it would be to tow it to port, it’s absolutely hell trying to find somebody to reimburse the expense… particularly for an independent trader. Which is a shame, because it’s only the independent ships that I’m really authorized to shoot down.”
“My heart weeps for you,” Lilliana said. “I should point out that, though we are an independent trading vessel, we do have numerous trade agreements and treaties with both the Galactic Confederated Commonwealth and the Unified Terran Alliance of Homeworlds.”
“And if you print them out, you could wipe your ass on them, but I think that would result in a marginal improvement in your situation, at best,” the Portmaster said. “On the other hand, a transfer of fifteen thousand credits to Rylea Port Control will result in a dramatic turn for the better.”
“You said ten thousand,” Lilliana pointed out.
“If you can’t pay it anyway, I might as well ask for twenty,” he said. “Or thirty.”
“I take your point,” Lilliana said. “In that case, would you please do me one favor?”
“One last favor?” the Portmaster asked, subtly emphasizing the middle word. Of course, he little thought it would actually come down to blasting the inbound ship to pieces. It was a game of chicken between a massive, well-armed asteroid settlement and an out-of-control transport ship.
It was obvious who was going to blink first.
“Yes, please,” Lilliana said. “Would you please inform Councilman Tyrian that his most recent orders have been effectively canceled and he should probably seek a refund from the shippers.”
“Y-you’re carrying goods for Councilman Tyrian?” the Portmaster asked, his smooth facade crumbling a bit.
“Yes,” Lilliana said. “Several containers of luxury food goods, wine and other libations from Sol, and so on. We also have a load of hand-carved wood furniture for one Maximus Petrus, a pouch under diplomatic seal for Ambassador DeForrest… of course, you can see all this on our cargo manifest, if you’d care to pull it up.”
“One moment,” Vargess said. He left the channel open and she heard the soft tapping of keys and then a muttered oath. “Shays Rebellion, please maintain current heading…”
“We’ll do our best,” Lilliana said with a grin.
“…and prepare for rendezvous with tugboat 004.”
“We can’t afford to pay for a tow,” Lilliana reminded him.
“Surely, after you’ve been paid for those deliveries…”
“Those funds have already been committed,” Lilliana said. “No, I’m very sorry, but I meant what I said: I am not authorized to release that kind of money. Simply put, we do not have thirty thousand credits to spare.”
“Let’s forget I said anything about thirty and make it ten,” Vargess said. “Or five.”
“If we can’t afford to pay, it doesn’t matter how low you go,” Lilliana countered. “Now, if you’ll do me the small kindness of contacting the intended recipients of our cargo and giving them our most sincere regrets…”
“Perhaps we could waive the fee, this time,” Vargess said.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on our behalf,” Lilliana said. “I mean… rules are rules, right?”
“Yes, yes,” the Portmaster muttered absently. “But, we could call it an act of goodwill towards the noble planet of… um… I’m looking at your FLAG and I have to say, I’ve never heard of…”
“Oh, Daniel Shays isn’t a planet,” Lilliana said. “Well, except legally. He managed to get himself declared a sovereign world by exploiting a series of loopholes in various interstellar treaties about seven years back. They closed the loopholes, but the courts pretty much agree that it’s binding, anyway. It was the top story on all the offbeat news aggs, for a while. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”
“I think I might have, but I thought it was a joke,” Vargess said. “So… your home port…?”
“Doesn’t exist,” Lilliana said. “Except in a purely legal sense.”
“Well, we’ll call it a gesture of general goodwill,” Vargess said. “Tugboat 004 will be at your position in five minutes.”
“Portmaster Vargess, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Lilliana said, and killed the connection with a satisfied stab of her finger.
“Wonderful,” Dick said from his position behind the pilot’s console. Even though there was absolutely nothing he could do to affect the ship’s speed or direction in the slightest, he’d maintained his post, facing out into the blackness through the canopy. He didn’t even turn to face her as he spoke now. “If you can just repeat that trick on some gold brokers, we’ll be in fantastic shape.”
“Don’t you start,” Lilliana said.
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