by Patty Jansen
"I had a disagreement in vision over the direction of the project,” Tina said.
It was rather strange talking with him like that, because surely he would know much better than she ever could what had gone on at the agency after she left and the disturbance her departure would have created.
“They appointed Grello as your replacement and life went on as before. Not much was said. They were very professional about it. Dexter said that it was a personal matter and should not affect the operation of the project. And it didn't. We all went on with our lives."
Business as usual. How typical. "Did anyone tell you why I left?"
"There were some rumours. Mostly that you took up a relationship with someone else."
“That’s utter rubbish.” Tina couldn't say anything for a few seconds because of her anger. Dexter had made it about her. He had not discussed her letter to him with the staff because he had been uncomfortable with the content. Jake was clearly Dexter’s pawn, either by choice or ignorance.
She took a few calming breaths. "So then they closed the project, and what did they do with it?" Tina had to find out whether anyone had taken any notice of anything she said.
"Dexter and a few people who joined after you left took over the business part of it."
"Business part?" Tina said. As far as she knew, the project was completely non-commercial.
"Yes, that’s what I'm doing here when I’m not working for the Kelso Station Authority. I'm developing the business that came out of the project. That’s why we could use you.”
“And Dexter still works in this business?" The hell, no.
"He does. But he's not the only one."
"And what about Evelle, does she work for them, too?”
He squinted at her. "She left to join the fleet. Dexter mentioned once that she serves on the SF Manila. As I already told you, Dexter works in the company but I don't see him very often. Grello is still my main boss. He was keen to hire you."
"Well I’m quite busy and I’m not keen to go back into space,” Tina said. She wouldn’t want to work for these people if her life depended on it.
“It might not be a space-based position.”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
“Is there anything we can do to entice you?” he asked.
“Not really. I have a business on the planet below. I’m happy.”
"Is that the Gandama address that I sent my message to? You have a nursery, right?”
“Like a plant nursery? Goodness no. Most of Cayelle is desert. I have a business selling security equipment.” But how did the nursery idea get into his mind? Those cactuses again.
“You did read my message?”
"Yes, I did. Thank you for that, but I’m not interested in taking up a position. I'm quite happy with my business.”
“But I already said you could stay right where you are, work for us from your home. We would send people to visit you occasionally.”
Like Dexter? Hell, no. “I’m much too busy with my business.”
“But you do have time to write research papers?”
Tina’s heart jumped. “I’m not sure what you mean.” How did he know about that? The paper had been accepted but not yet made public. Unless he had some academic position, which he had just admitted he didn’t because he hadn’t even finished his degree.
“Weren’t you involved in genetics research with some of the native wildlife?”
“I run a shop. Selling security equipment.”
“But you’re a biologist.”
“I was a biologist when I worked for Project Charon.”
“You worked with alien wildlife.”
“I know what I did.” Seriously, what was this about?
“We can use a biologist. You can work in your research field again. We have started a project researching Cayelle’s sentient plants.”
“For what aim?”
“Research? Is any further aim necessary? We don’t know what those creatures are. They’re alien, and we want to understand them.”
“A company doesn’t do anything without the potential for a financial gain.”
“Sure, but we don’t know what that gain will be.”
“But you’ve got something in mind?”
“We have all sorts of things in mind, but right now, the work is a blank canvas. Imagine the freedom of being able to determine your own research. Didn’t we always dream about that in the lab? No more cost-benefit projections, no more juggling project funds, no more boring meetings justifying your work to people who have no idea what you’re talking about and aren’t interested. Just pure science.”
Sure. Pardon the sarcasm. “And who is paying for this again?”
“Our company. When you visit the station, you’d have all your expenses covered, and wouldn’t have to stay in a cheap place either.”
Another chill. Did he know where she was staying? No, surely she was being paranoid.
Jake sounded very innocent, but all Tina could think about when she remembered her work at Charon Station was the cloud of particles coming out of the rift. Jake wouldn't have seen that cloud of particles, and reports about it would have been very much suppressed by those in command, like Dexter. "Really, I am not terribly interested or looking for work. My business is doing well, and I have other responsibilities."
"Oh, have you remarried?"
"I have responsibilities." Tina didn't want to go any further than that. She was looking for a way out. She’d sort of liked the young kid Jake when he had come to work in the lab. He’d grown into one hell of a persistent salesman. She didn’t trust him.
They had been walking slowly while talking and now they had arrived at the beginning of the commercial passage. Tina thanked Jake for helping her find her way, and he told her to make sure that if ever she changed her mind she contacted him. She said she would.
And then Tina walked through the passage as fast as she could. She looked over her shoulder, sure that people were still keeping an eye on her, but it was too busy to see.
She was supposed to have been doing boring stuff, but this encounter had been anything except boring.
Chapter Eighteen
When Tina was as sure as she could be that Jake no longer watched her, she stopped to note “SF Manila” on her PCD.
SF stood for Star Fighter, an attack ship, much smaller than the behemoths like the Stavanger, which were glorified troop carriers, command centres and logistics providers. The Star Fighters did the work, and the ones of the Southeast Asia class were at the forefront. Their whereabouts were a secret. Their missions were a secret. Weapons they carried on board were secret. No wonder she’d been unable to find any information about Evelle other than some really generic stuff.
Evelle had just turned thirty. What would be her function on the Manila?
Whatever else had changed at Kelso Station, the office of the Port Authority was still more or less as it had been before. Nothing had changed about the large, low-ceilinged waiting room, where hundreds of people waited to be served at the counter at the far end.
Tina got a number from the old-fashioned machine, and sat down to wait.
Next to her, a couple of merchants were arguing over which of their allocations they would use for which part of their fruit. A couple of hawkers were plying their trades in the room. They were watched in turn by a number of security guards.
Tina knew that selling wares to people who were waiting here was not allowed, and the security guards’ supervisors had probably received some grease money for permitting it, so they were looking out for their supervisors in turn.
The two illegal hawkers, who were barely teenagers, were selling equipment cases, which one of them carried in a large net on his back.
As soon as his friend got to talk to a potential customer, he spread out a small folder which displayed all the different types of cases they had for sale.
On Tina’s other side, an entire family—a father, mother and five children and a gran
dmother and another man who might have been an employee or an uncle—had spread out on the floor with all of their belongings. They had so much stuff that they took up a whole row of seats and the floor surrounding them. The children were tired, and one of the little ones was asleep on the floor.
Tina remembered this room well. She remembered the stink of despair of it, of the despair of not knowing whether you could stay or had to go, not knowing whether you would get a permit, and the despair of other people trying to sell cheap things just so that they could make ends meet.
Tina usually kept out of the way of these people because she was alone, and because ship owners were considered to be privileged citizens. News travelled fast in these stations, and Tina hated people accosting her because they thought she had money.
Tina’s turn at the counter came when neither of the merchants nor the family with all the children had been seen yet. They had been there for much longer than she had, and it looked like they would be there for quite a while still. She felt guilty about that.
She crossed the large room to the counter at the far end, now remembering how close together these booths were, and how much you could hear what the person next to you was talking about. Some of those conversations were disturbingly private as well.
A merchant was discussing expenses and fees. He had a document open on his pad which showed lines of figures, and pointed to various ones. "See, and then I paid for this here and this is the order number and payment ID, and then you charge me twice here."
Seriously, she did not need to know all that.
The young man behind the counter looked far too young to be in this position. But then again, people who worked in the Port Authority customer relations office did not last very long.
He asked, ”How can I help you?"
"I'd like to get an access code for my ship."
He asked for the model and registration.
He looked on the screen, and then raised his eyebrows.
"I can't see it here. When did you arrive here?"
"About fifteen years ago?"
His eyebrows went up further. "Oh. Then I'll need to look in a different part of the system. Hang on."
There were a number of moments of silence while he looked, and then his face cleared. "I have it. You're lucky. The Property Retrieval Authority was about to sell it off."
“They would need my permission to do so." But the Property Retrieval Authority was a powerful body. They found ways to disown people if stuff took up too much space.
"Frankly, there are more outstanding fees on the ship then the old boat is worth."
"Wouldn't I be the one making the decision about how much it’s worth?”
"Ultimately, yes, if we can locate you. But several notices have been sent out about fees in arrears, and none of the fees have been paid, at least in the past five years as far as I can track back. Everything owing on the ship has been archived. We’ll release the ship once the fees have been paid, or I can arrange a sale for you."
"I don't think that will be necessary."
Hang on. She had paid fees. "What about the payments I made every year?"
"Yes, I can see them here, but they were nowhere near enough to cover the true cost of the berth."
"Then why didn’t I receive notice about any fee increases?"
"That’s what I am telling you. We sent notices, but none of them appear to have received a reply."
"Where did you send them?”
"To this address." He showed her the screen.
Oh what the hell. They had been sending the notices to Dexter because she’d used an account or address related to the Force to pay for the ship, or as administrative contact, and back then it still showed them as married. And by the usual administrative incompetence, no one had ever noticed that she wasn’t getting those messages.
And Dexter, being her ex-husband, would just have laughed about them and put them aside, waiting until she got into trouble over it.
Anger built inside her. The vindictive old bastard. "Well then. Show me what I have to pay. I need the ship."
Again he turned the screen to her, and she nearly fainted. “Ten thousand credits?"
"There is a full itemised list of all the charges. They include all maintenance and cleaning fees, power—”
"I never use any power. I haven't used the ship for many years."
"We were never told to shut off the power."
“But I never used any. You can check that.”
He looked. “Oh. I see.”
“I shouldn’t be charged for power. I want that taken off the bill. That would make a big difference.”
“Only about four thousand.”
“That’s big enough for me. Take it off.”
“I don’t have authority to make those decisions. You would have to discuss that with my supervisor.”
Tina balled her fists. There was no point getting angry at this young pipsqueak, because none of this was his fault.
He went out the back and returned a moment later with a woman with a stern face. She merely nodded to Tina, and listened as the young employee explained and asked how to deal with removal of an “abandoned” ship from the scrap queue.
“We’d have to move it into a docking port. I don’t know how long it would take to find someone to pilot it.”
Tina began, “I can fly—”
“No. Not around our facility, you won’t. Not in a ship that has not been inspected or accredited for fifteen years. We don’t even know if it works.”
“But surely it works. You moved the ship into this storage area. I left it in a docking port. It was in full working order.”
“It’s still at the same docking port, but the facility has grown around it. Getting it out will be a delicate operation which we can commence when we’ve received full payment of all outstanding fees.”
“Can I at least have access to it so that I can start preparing it for sale?”
She gave Tina a suspicious look.
“That’s the reason I’m here: to sell it.”
“We can sell it for you.”
“I want to sell it myself.”
“Do you have any prospective buyers?”
“I think so.” Optimistic, but whatever. It was none of the authority’s business how and where she intended to sell, or for how much.
“Understand that you won’t get a flight permit before that time.”
“I understand. I don’t want to fly it. I want to clear it out and get rid of the cobwebs and dust. Someone else can fly it.”
With some negotiating, and the payment of three and a half thousand credits, she agreed that Tina could have access to the ship, only to clean it out, and explicitly not to fly it.
Chapter Nineteen
Tina went back to the accommodation via the bank where she secured just enough funding to keep the authority happy. She was hoping that her objection to the unfair fees would be handled soon. There was the accommodation bill coming up as well.
This was getting ridiculous. Was that young man really suggesting that the ship was worth only ten thousand? He knew nothing about ships. Finn had said she’d be able to get a good price. He was an engineer. She trusted him.
When she got back to the hotel, Rex was sitting outside with a group of men a couple of years older than himself. They were laughing and talking, and Tina was happy at least that he hadn’t been sulking in his room. She went to get some coffee at the counter and joined them.
The talk around the table was all about equipment. The men were in the fleet, and they were showing Rex all the latest in their technology.
He looked so much like a country boy. That harness he was wearing, though perfectly serviceable and sturdy, looked old-fashioned and a bit sad. At home in Dickson’s Creek, she would never have noticed how dusty and worn it was, because everything there was dusty and worn.
But Rex obviously had an interest in technology, and she knew how important it was to him. It allowed him to g
et around and mingle with people in spaces that weren’t about his disability.
She listened to their discussion while gulping down her coffee. It was hot and near-tasteless, but she needed it.
Rex finally turned to her. "Oh, hello Mum. Got the ship?"
It was such an innocent question. Tina didn't want to answer it with a cranky reply about leeches and rip-offs, but she was highly tempted. "I'm working on it. Come. We’ve got work to do.”
One of the female recruits looked up at Rex. "You're leaving us? What a pity."
"You gotta do what the boss says," said a young man.
Rex got up from the table, which merely involved straightening his legs. He had pushed the chair away because he didn’t need it. He followed Tina into the hallway with the usual zooming and clicking noises.
"Who are they?" Tina asked when they turned into the corridor to their room.
"Just some people who came to share my table, like yesterday with Finn. It was really busy and there was nowhere else for them to sit. They were very friendly."
"What were you talking about?"
"Just some things."
Definitely evasive. "Were they military crew from one of the Federacy ships?"
"Yeah. They were telling me all about the Force and about all the things they do as part of their jobs.”
They walked silently for a bit and then he asked, “Do you think I would be able to join the Federacy Force?”
What? “You?” No.
“I like the things that those people told me they’re doing. It’s all electronics and equipment. I could do that.”
The thought of Rex going to space clamped a hand around her heart. She’d protected her little boy. Who would help him in and out of his harness? How would he cope with the mandatory exercises? What would he do when people were nasty to him? “Did you ask them if you could join?”
“No. They said I should.”
Now she understood the chain of events. They’d probably asked him what he did on Cayelle and he’d said he was bored, because that was what he always said. And then they’d said he could join the Force, whether they meant it or not. “It would be hard.”
