To Fire Called (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 2)

by Nathan Lowell

  “What about those that won’t?” I asked.

  “Won’t work. Can’t work. Nobody wants to not work. The stipend is literally subsistence. Air, water, food, and a bed in a dorm. Nobody needs to stay there if they don’t want to.”

  “People put up with that?”

  “What people?” Pip asked.

  “The people paying for it.”

  Pip shrugged. “Almost all the stations have some kind of system like it.”

  I flattened my hands on the desk and stared at their backs for what seemed like several ticks. “I’m trying to see the survival benefit,” I said.

  “Cuts down on crime,” Pip said. “Nobody needs to be so desperate they have to steal to live.”

  “What about the people who steal because they like it?”

  Pip shrugged. “They don’t do it more than a few times before they’re invited to take a walk outside.”

  “Capital punishment for stealing?” The shock of it rocketed up my spine.

  “You weren’t listening. They have to do it more than once. I think Dark Knight has a three-strike rule and you have to really work at being a pain in the collective ass. For low-level pains, they rescind visa and the deadbeats can ship out if somebody will take them.”

  “What if there’s a dispute?” I asked.

  “Like what? Contract?”

  “Contract. Claim. Ownership. Whatever.”

  “It varies. Here there’s a tribunal. Each party gets to pick a judge. Since it’s in Dark Knight’s interest, they’re automatically a party so there are always at least three judges. Everybody brings their best arguments and the three judges confer.” He shrugged. “Appeals go through binding arbitration at High Tortuga. Most people don’t want to risk that, so most arguments get settled here.”

  “Do all stations do that?”

  He shook his head. “The final arbitrator is always High Tortuga. They run the banks and have no interest in branching out, so they’re not going to be invested in station squabbles. Each station has their own process, but it’s basically the same. Differences in process are minor. I think every station has a visa program for visitors. Station management expects residents to behave better than visitors and know more about how the system works. It’s the same everywhere, really.”

  “What about the psychopaths?” I asked.

  “The people who just want to burn it down?”

  “Yeah. What happens when CPJCT kicks them out and they come here?”

  “Generally they go to places like Iron Mountain where psychopaths are welcomed. Sometimes they claim systems of their own. That doesn’t leave much time to burn things down.”

  “What about the ones that come here?”

  “If they’re clever, they don’t try to take over.”

  “If they’re not?”

  “It’s a short walk,” Pip said, giving a half shrug. “Established stations have a lot of security. You can’t approach by stealth. It’s difficult to do any damage inside. Stations that ignore security don’t last long enough to expand very far.”

  “What about people like Patterson?”

  “He’s a special case.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s a useful psychopath. Handy if you want to get rid of somebody. He pays his tithe to High Tortuga. They keep their noses out of his business.”

  The pieces fell into place for me. “So they fix his thumbprint when he needs a new identity.”

  “In a manner of speaking, yeah.” Pip shrugged again. “I don’t know the details but if you pay the fee, you can change your name.”

  I stared at the backs of my hands some more, trying to sort out this new information. “If anybody knows what’s happening with the Mega, they would, right?”

  Pip grimaced. “Not really. If there were a new Toe-Hold somewhere, sure. They’d know about that unless the station wasn’t on the banking network.”

  “Wouldn’t that be hard to do? Build a ship without being on the banking network?”

  Pip shook his head. “Not really. We could run it from here if we wanted.”

  “How?”

  “Start a company, establish an account, buy what we need, ship it out to wherever we wanted to work. Pay people here and they can cash in as they need it from any station.”

  “What about paying people on station?”

  “Draw chips here and distribute them there.”

  “Didn’t we stop doing that when we were on the Lois?”

  “We did. Doesn’t mean everybody did. I used some back on Breakall.”

  “Does this help us find the Mega?” I asked.

  “Not really.”

  “You knew all this back at Port Newmar.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Paying an assassin is easy. Paying anybody is easy. The only sticky point is you have to start here in Toe-Hold space and cover your ass before you move up to the High Line.”

  “Why doesn’t CPJCT do something about it?”

  “It works in their favor. Why would they?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. My head began buzzing from the confusion.

  “They can track any transaction that happens on their end of the Annex. They’ve got the systems in place to make sure that nothing they don’t approve of is transported, protecting the company investments in trade.”

  “Except they don’t,” I said. “You just got done saying credit chips are blind.”

  “They’re only blind when you load them here. If you load a credit chip up there, the trail extends from your account to the chip and then into the account of whoever uses it. Unless they use it down here.”

  “The bank is the money laundry?” I asked.

  “Well, money laundry implies that income is from some black market. There’s only a black market when there are price controls or illegal goods.”

  “Assassination isn’t illegal?” I asked.

  “Not in Toe-Hold space.”

  “Didn’t we just get done talking about tribunals and short walks?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Dark Knight has a bit of a problem if it gets carried out here. Most of the stations do. Iron Mountain has some of the strictest regulations about killing people on station, oddly enough.”

  “We talked about that. It’s all right if you do it somewhere else.”

  “Awkward, isn’t it?”

  “If the stations have these sanctions, how does it happen?”

  “Ships in transit make handy locales. A quick payoff to the captain and it’s over.”

  His matter-of-fact recitation left me a little cold.

  “You’re basically worried about the edge case scenario, Ishmael,” he said. “There aren’t many stations that allow this kind of thing. Without a station, it’s hard to get food, fuel, or air. The people who do it are specialists. They’re so expensive only the largest corporations and the CPJCT itself can afford them.”

  “Corporations like Manchester Yards?” I asked.

  His eyes widened as he looked across the desk at me. “Yeah. Probably.”

  I shook my head. “What if Manchester doesn’t want it found?”

  “What if Manchester has already found it?” Pip asked in return.

  “What if we haven’t really got a clue about any of this and we’re just chasing space dust?” I asked.

  He chuckled at that. “That’s probably truer than you know.”

  “So we’ve got another can. We take it to Ice Rock and just keep flying?” I asked.

  “I’m at a dead end. Unless somebody comes forward with some new lead, we’re just going to have to crank up the profits for our stockholders.”

  “You don’t sound too upset by that prospect,” I said.

  “It was a long shot. I should have realized that the astrogation data would be useless without knowing the name.”

  “Well, if they’d named it ‘Secret Mega Base’ that would have helped.”

  He chuckled again for a moment and then shook his head. “It does give me an idea.”


  “What’s that?”

  “I need to go talk to Inge again. If they did establish a new base, maybe she knows which one of these it is.”

  “Would she tell you?”

  “She might. I don’t have much to go on. Someplace that’s been established in the last fifteen stanyers or so.”

  “What do we get out of it if we find it?” I ask.

  He blinked in my direction a couple of times. “What do you mean what do we get out of it?”

  “Is there a bounty? A reward? Something that would pay better than—say—just taking a load of ore to Ice Rock?”

  His lips pursed and he shrugged. “Not really. No. Just the warm feeling of a job well done.”

  “What does TIC want with it, then?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe just confirmation that it’s there.”

  “They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to scratch a curiosity itch.”

  “I’m more inclined to believe they’ve got some other motive that I don’t know about.”

  I nodded to grant the point. “You want company when you visit Inge?”

  “Why? You want to stretch your legs?”

  “Kinda.”

  “You gonna wear your new clothes?” He smirked at me.

  “I was thinking denim and a pullover.” I wasn’t sure about the rest.

  “You need the hat and jacket.”

  “Why’s that?” His question made me curious.

  “You need to get used to wearing it. It’s good for your image as a successful merchant captain. That image will pay dividends as we get deeper into dealing with the powers-that-be out here.”

  I sighed and shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “I’ve got more experience out here than you.”

  “You say that. Should I believe you?”

  He paused for a heartbeat and looked at the backs of his fingers, splaying them out as if checking out his manicure. He bit his lip and nodded before looking at me. “I guess I had that coming, but yeah. I do.” He shrugged. “I haven’t led you wrong yet, have I?”

  I thought about that, examining the path he’d led me down since finding me on Port Newmar.

  “You’re taking a long time to think about it,” he said.

  “No, as far as I can tell right now, you haven’t led me astray. The ship’s a gold mine. We’re not quite in the black from the overhaul, but that’s not bad for two loads. It’s a good crew. I can’t complain.” I paused. “You didn’t exactly get me here using the most honest means, but I knew you were lying. I just didn’t know about what.”

  “How could you tell?” he asked, his head tilted to one side.

  “I don’t know,” I said, thinking about it. “The pieces didn’t add up. They sounded good on the surface but none of them actually matched.”

  “I thought you were going to tell me my lips were moving.” He folded his hands together over his chest.

  “Well, that too, probably, but I was thinking about stuff like trying to contact your father. Did you actually have to do that?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I’ve had a wide-ranging power of attorney for stanyers. I’m investing my own shares in this company so I didn’t really need to. He did approve, though. Thought it was a good idea.”

  “So you actually contacted him and he sent back his approval?”

  “Sure.”

  “That fast?”

  “It was actually pretty slow. I’m not sure why it took so long.”

  “Really? My experience with intersystem communications has been less than positive.”

  “Slow and expensive?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He smiled. “You routed your comms through CPJCT hubs.”

  “Well, sure.”

  “That’s the mistake. We won’t be making that one.”

  I stared at him for long moments while he smiled back at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge. The answer smacked me on the face. “High Tortuga.”

  “You’re trainable,” he said. “They control the banking, but to do that they have to control the communications as well. You do what almost everybody does and use CPJCT communications terminals. Carstairs routes direct through the bank. The ship does, too, now.”

  I shook my head. “Someday I’m going to get this figured out.”

  “You’re operating from the wrong side of the box and you’ve not grown up with it. Just remember, nothing would exist in the High Line if it didn’t exist here first.”

  “That’s why they’re called Toe-Holds,” I said.

  He touched his nose. “Bingo. Now go get changed and we’ll go see the charming and talented Inge Sonjasdottir.”

  He zoomed out of the cabin and I went to change back into my costume. I had to admit the jacket fit well and had a certain flair. I picked plain denims and an emerald pullover instead of the white shirt. I started to put on my comfy ship boots but when I saw myself in the mirror realized the mistake that would have been.

  Call me crazy but the cap was beginning to grow on me.

  I met Pip at the top of the ladder and we were off the ship in a matter of a couple of ticks.

  Chapter 26

  Dark Knight Station: 2375, May 17

  By the time we got back to the cartography office, the station’s day cycle was drawing to an end. A scruffy individual with a chopped-up beard and bare, scarred scalp gave us the once-over when we stepped through the door. He didn’t say anything, just nodded to Inge and left.

  “Gentlemen,” she said. “How nice to see you again.”

  Pip slipped the data drive across the counter. “Thanks. That helped fill in some of the holes.”

  Her pale eyebrows rose on her forehead. “Some of the holes?”

  “We’re looking for a new Toe-Hold. I didn’t spot it on the data.” Pip left the statement hang there as an almost-question.

  “Not too surprising,” Inge said. “Some people just don’t like visitors. It’s easy to hide out here.” She smiled with her mouth.

  “You wouldn’t know of a shipyard. New in the last—oh—fifteen stanyers?” he asked.

  “Not directly,” she said. “You always hear of places starting up. Wildcat miners and the like.” She shook her head. “They’re not big on saying where they’re setting up. At least not until they’re fully set up.”

  Pip grunted and nodded. “Wouldn’t do to have Iron Mountain knocking on the lock before you’re open for business.”

  She smiled again and it reached her eyes. “You see the problem, then.”

  He nodded. “I see the problem.”

  She looked back and forth between us. “Is there anything else, gentlemen?”

  Pip shook his head. “Nothing. Thanks.”

  I followed Pip out of the office and he headed back down the narrow corridor toward the chandlery and the galleries beyond. “Now what?” I asked after we shouldered past a couple of women in station livery.

  He sighed and shook his head. “Now I guess we’re down to getting filthy rich the old-fashioned way.”

  “Hauling cargo?” I asked.

  “Unless you fancy something more esoteric?” He glanced over his shoulder at me with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Esoteric?”

  “We could take up smuggling.”

  I snorted. “Seriously?”

  He pushed the door to the chandlery open and we crossed the lobby out into the docks beyond. “Only halfway. We’d need to get some mallards marching before we got too carried away there.”

  “Mallards?”

  “They’re a kind of aquatic waterfowl.”

  I gave him a sideways glance but kept moving.

  “We have a can of rock to deliver anyway,” he said. “Out here, anything could happen.”

  “That’s kinda what I’m worried about,” I said.

  He glanced back at me. “Really? Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. We’re flying a ghost ship through no-man’s land in search of a ship that might have gone missing a
decade ago.”

  “Somebody knows,” Pip said.

  “You’d think so.”

  “There’s also the matter of the shipyard,” he said.

  “The shipyard?”

  He stopped and dragged me out of the traffic pattern by my arm. “Hypothesis. There is a mega-hauler out there. Probably lost.” He paused and looked at me.

  I focused on his words. “May have been a mega-hauler,” I said.

  He gave a short nod. “All right. May have been. Does that suggest anything?”

  “There’s a shipyard big enough to build it out here somewhere.”

  He snorted. “Granted. What else does it suggest?

  “I don’t know where you’re going with this,” I said. “It suggests all manner of things.”

  “Like what?”

  I shrugged. “Well, probably they have their own mining operation. Buying enough raw materials would attract attention and somebody would have to deliver it.”

  He shook his head. “Not as much as you might think. They had at least one Barbell-class ship that hauled materials for them.”

  “You don’t know that. It’s just speculation.”

  He paused and his focus turned inward for a moment. “Granted, but the intel on this seems pretty solid.”

  “Whose intel?”

  “Doesn’t matter. What else does it suggest?” he asked

  I sighed and ran a hand over the stubble on my scalp, trying to think logically. “Even with automated lines and robots, it would take a lot of people to build it.”

  He nodded. “What does that imply?”

  “More people to manage them.”

  “More people than that to deal with the logistical operation of setting up a station, keeping it powered up, filled with air, water, and food,” he said.

  “They’d need environmental people,” I said. “That’s a specialized skill set.”