Salvage Conquest

by Chris Kennedy

  Leslie’s eyebrows furrowed. “How light are we talking?”

  “Sixty, maybe seventy percent of max payload.”

  Leslie palmed her porcelain face, her long auburn hair tumbling past her bare shoulders and black tank top. “I hate to state the obvious here, Matt, but Loader One is how we move heavy inventory to and from this ship’s cargo hold in atmo. Without it, we can’t compete for big-credit contracts. That’s kinda not ideal for a two-person outfit that makes its living hauling freight.”

  “I know, I know.” Matt put up his hands. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “You said that when the heating coil went out in the crew quarters,” Leslie noted. “That was three weeks ago. We’re still taking cold showers.”

  “That’s actually gonna be fixed soon,” Matt countered. “Rento left a message with the port authority while we were out on our last job. He’s located a vender with a replacement coil old enough to fit the Bonifay’s system. He even managed to land it for us on a deal!”

  Leslie’s expression flattened.

  “Right,” Matt continued. “Rento says he’ll have the part for pickup on Joth by the end of the month. We’ll just have to swing by and grab it.”

  “The end of the month.” Leslie all but murmured the words as she averted her gaze.

  Matt had seen her do that a lot lately. Historically, his wife had been the eternal optimist. In recent months, however, that’d begun to change. I swear to you, baby. Somehow, I’m gonna make this work. I promise.

  Leslie pocketed her hands in her cargo pants. “There is another way to fix our situation, you know. One that won’t require us to wait a month for hot water.”

  “No.” Matt whirled for the exit.

  “Why not?” Leslie rushed to follow. “He can help us, Matt. He wants to help us.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Matt growled. “What he wants is one more opportunity to rub it in my face that his only daughter married a low-class junk rat from Akalla.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “His words, not mine.”

  Leslie trotted ahead in the steel corridor outside the bay and halted her husband. “I know you don’t want to take money from my father. Believe me. I get it, and for the last six years, I’ve honored that decision. The fact remains, though, Matt, you’re no longer a contracted scavenger on somebody else’s payroll. You opted to go solo, remember? That was three years ago. Since then, we’ve barely made enough credit to stay afloat, much less buy a ship that isn’t falling apart around us or take on a crew to help offset the workload.”

  Matt clasped her shoulder. “We’ve still managed to make do, haven’t we? You and me? It’s no different now.”

  Leslie sighed and eyed the deck. “Actually…it kinda is.”

  Matt wrinkled his nose.

  “It’s not just you and me anymore.” Leslie faced her husband wearing the smallest of smiles. “Congregations, Matthew Furyk. You’re gonna be a dad.”

  Matt’s jaw dropped open like a swinging trap door from one of those old magic shows he’d seen in the Earth history vids. “You’re…. You’re…”

  “Pregnant? Yeah.” Leslie raised her hands. “Surprise!”

  Matt just stood there, dumbfounded in the glow of his ship’s overhead lighting. You’re…I’m gonna be…

  “No pressure, honey, but I’m gonna need a response on this,” Leslie said.

  Matt answered in the only way he could. He took his wife into his arms and squeezed her tightly. “I love you so very much, Les.”

  “I love you, too.” She pulled back. “My point stands, though. We have to find a way to get this company profitable, and soon. Otherwise, we’ll either need to take my father up on his help offer, or you’ll have to go back to doing salvage work.”

  A communications chime from the nearby access terminal broke the discussion.

  “You expecting a call?” Leslie asked.

  Matt shook his head then approached the panel and tapped the Answer key. “This is Captain Matthew Furyk of the Akallan freighter, Bonifay. We receive you.”

  “Gooday, mate,” a cheerful voice said in an Australian male’s accent.

  Leslie rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, Tenza,” Matt said. “What goes on?”

  “Rumor has it you and the missus arrived back on Akalla last night,” Tenza said. “I can see now those rumors are correct.”

  “This call got a point?” Matt asked.

  “Indeed, my good man, it does. Are you free for dinner this evening? There’s a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

  “What sort of matter?” Matt asked.

  “The bloody lucrative kind,” Tenza said. “I’d rather not discuss it over comms. Can you meet me for dinner or not?”

  Matt glanced at his wife who gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah, Tenza we’re free.”

  “Excellent,” Tenza chortled. “I’ve taken the liberty of booking reservations at Rutherford’s Chop House in downtown AC, nineteen-hundred hours.”

  “Copy that. We’ll be there,” Matt said. “Bonifay out.”

  Leslie’s frown widened as the channel disconnected.

  “What?” Matt shrugged. “You said we needed work, right? What’s the problem?”

  “It’s not the work that’s a problem,” Leslie said. “It’s the source. I don’t trust that slimy little Reeoli runt. I never have.”

  “Tenza has his detractors, sure, but he’s always been fair to us,” Matt said.

  “To us, yeah,” Leslie said. “I know others who avoid him like the plague. You know who Tenza is connected to. You know what they’re capable of. Those are not the sort of people we want to be involved with, Matt. Not ever.”

  Matt brushed back a strand of his wife’s red hair, allowing his hand to linger on her cheek. “What Tenza does on his own time is his business. Our ties to him run only as far as the job dictates. Beyond that, he’s on his own, and so are we. I say we take the meet. We can always walk away if we don’t like what he’s selling.”

  Leslie exhaled and studied her grimy attire. “Ah, well. At least I’ll get a nice meal out of this mess.”

  “Where are you going?” Matt asked as she turned to go.

  “To get cleaned up,” Leslie said. “Rutherford’s is one of the nicest places in town. Last I checked, work clothes covered in engine grease aren’t on the dress code.”

  “I hear ya.” Matt chuckled. “I’ve got some stuff to wrap up on the bridge then I’ll be down for a shower myself. Save me some hot water, will ya?”

  Leslie didn’t dignify that with a response.

  * * *

  Once out of the shower, Matt headed for his closet in search of the one pair of slacks he owned and pulled them on. From there, he smoothed out the shirt Leslie had given him for Christmas the previous year then returned to the bathroom in hopes of wrangling his thick black hair into some semblance of styled.

  Stupid cowlicks. Matt frowned at the mirror when a lone strand of black shot free of his reflection’s scalp like a rocket. Frex me.

  “You almost done in there?” Leslie called from outside.

  Matt sighed and strapped his data band to his wrist en route to the bedroom. Whoa…

  Dressed to the nines in stylish heels and a strapless blue dress that totally set off her eyes, Leslie Furyk was every bit the vision Matt had observed on the night they’d met—all flowing cascades of auburn hair and freckled cheeks, not to mention a smile that could seize a man’s soul if she wanted. To some degree, Matt still couldn’t fathom why a woman of status like her had married a smalltime grease dog like him. He only knew that not a day passed when he wasn’t grateful that she had.

  “We ready?” Leslie asked.

  Matt holstered his Z-31 laser pistol under his coat and stole a kiss. Meanwhile, the melody of an old Earth song—uptown girl, something—soundtracked the moment in his mind.

  The seaside hovercraft ride into Akalla City, or AC as the locals called it, couldn’t have been more perfect. Then
again, Matt thought, this was usually the case in Akalla’s fall season, a time when temperatures were mild, humidity was low, and the air smelled of saline and mint, courtesy of the jenzu plants which littered the area.

  As the second of six worlds orbiting a yellow dwarf star, Akalla was the only one in the Kyria System with a human presence. It was also, in Matt’s opinion, the most striking planet in Creation to lay eyes on, not that the native in him was biased.

  Even still, for all its natural beauty, Akalla wasn’t without its detractors. For starters, unlike many human colonies which had littered the cosmos for millennia, the one on Akalla had barely existed a century. Prior to that, most Akallans had hailed from the planet Tretra in the faraway Tretrayon System.

  Like Akalla, Tretra was a gem to behold. Breathtaking beaches, soaring mountains, lavish green forests that went on forever. Unlike on Akalla, however, most Tretrayons were born into money.

  As global wealth went, few planets in the galaxy could match the depth of Tretra’s coffers, although it hadn’t begun that way. According to the history vids, the humans who’d settled there had done so with very few possessions and one key philosophy in mind—any person, be they a plumber or an engineer, could have whatever life they wanted as long as they meant to work for it. Fast-forward a hundred generations, and scores of Tretrayon families had built their legacies on that principle. Advance a few generations more, though, as the class divide grew, and all of that began to change. In time, most citizens lacking a prominent surname like Chang or Vanderbon were scarcely afforded basic rights, much less a shot at escaping the slums they called home.

  Furyk had not been one of those surnames. Like many of his time, Matt’s great grandfather, Malcom, had done well enough as a mechanic in Tretra’s projects to build a modest life for his family. Any ambition he’d held of growing beyond that was forever usurped by the government and social elite.

  All of that changed when the Bith established gate access to the Kyria System a hundred sixteen years ago.

  Named for the Bith word meaning baron, the backwater solar system offered little upside to potential colonists since most of its planets were either too close or too far from the sun to sustain life. One, however, could, and it was on that world that Malcom Furyk and fifty thousand other Tretrayon deplorables found their salvation.

  As for Matt, Akalla had been his home since birth, and while he, like most of his peers, harbored little love for the motherland, he tried to remember that times had changed and not all Tretrayons were out to look down on him.

  If only my father-in-law felt the same way. Matt dismissed the thought and squeezed his wife’s hand as the glimmering AC skyline crested the view ahead.

  As expected, downtown Akalla City was bustling with activity. There were bars and restaurants galore, of course, plus a slew of storefronts and vender shops, all nestled into a loose grid around the city’s convention center where most of AC’s major events took place.

  “Man, is it just me or is this place slammed tonight?” Leslie asked.

  “The Argonauts are home for round one of the Warball playoffs this weekend,” the hovercraft driver said. He was a Prithmar, a reptilian race. This meant his s sounds carried a slight hiss. “From what I understand, every hotel in the district is booked solid.”

  “Can you get us to Rutherford’s?” Matt asked.

  “Eventually, yes.” The driver scratched his chin scales. “It’s gonna take a while, though.”

  Matt checked the time on his data band. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll go on foot from here.”

  “You sure?” the driver asked.

  “Yeah.” Matt keyed up his bank account from his wrist and summoned the requisite credit to pay their fare. Afterward, he exited the craft with Leslie and headed two blocks west past Spinnaker’s Tap Room and the AC art museum to the swanky establishment known as Rutherford’s Chop House.

  “Reservation?” the hostess asked once they’d entered.

  “Ratenza Nadahl,” Matt said.

  The pink-haired hostess, in her early-twenties, ran a glossy fingernail down the list on her greeter’s stand. “Right this way.”

  Matt and Leslie waited while the girl fished a pair of menus from her stand then followed her through the executive-themed dining hall to a table near the back where a lone humanoid male was ensconced with a cocktail. Of average height and slender build, the green-skinned Reeoli wore his darker green hair in a respectable, close-cropped cut above his pointed ears. His burgundy suit, however, with its wide lapels, silver pinstripes, and exaggerated shirt collar, was anything but conservative.

  “Good evening, Matthew.” Tenze rose and extended a green palm. “Thank you for coming.”

  “No problem,” Matt said. “Thanks for the invite.”

  Tezna turned his gold eyes to Leslie and grinned. “Commander Furyk.”

  “Tenza.” Leslie feigned a grin back.

  “So,” Matt said as the group took their seats. “Tell me about this business opportunity of yours.”

  Tenza clicked his tongue. “Come now, mate. You know better than to begin talking business sans a proper drink.”

  To this day, Matt still wasn’t sure why the Reeoli spoke Earth Common with an Australian accent. Apparently, when the race had honed their grasp of the language, they’d done so using a dialect from that part of humanity’s homeworld.

  Tenza flagged down the group’s server and ordered drinks.

  “A toast.” Tenza raised his ale. “To the past success of our charming partnership, and to the many yet to come.”

  “Hadye,” Matt said using the Akallan slang for “cheers.”

  Leslie just sipped her wine.

  “So,” Matt said. “We’ve got drinks. Let’s hear about this opportunity of yours.”

  “Right.” Tenza shifted. “Earlier this week, I was approached by a client, seeking passage to the planet Joth. I told him such transport could be arranged then I promptly contacted you.”

  “What’s the freight?” Matt asked.

  “No freight,” Tenza said. “Only the client will be traveling.”

  Matt wrinkled his nose. “Dozens of commercial transports set sail out of Akalla starport every day. Why come to us?”

  “I’d think the Bonifay’s luxurious accommodations speak for themselves on that.” Tenza got a pair of flat looks in reply. “Fine. My client wishes to keep a low profile during his voyage. Travelling commercially would negate his ability to do that.”

  “But a contracted freighter with no passenger manifest?” Leslie cocked her head. “Different story.”

  “She’s a sharp one, that wife of yours.”

  Leslie pelted the alien with a smirk.

  “She’s also a great judge of circumstances,” Matt added. “Why all the subterfuge?”

  “Who’s to say?” Tenza shrugged. “For all I know, my client has a phobia of crowds. What does it matter so long as we all get paid?”

  “It matters because we’re the ones taking all the risk,” Leslie said. “Once we take the contract, you’ll be free to walk with your finder’s fee. That leaves me and Matt holding the bag with this guy until we touch down in Purlit starport.”

  “Now, now, Commander,” Tenza said. “For starters, you won’t be sailing alone. I’ll be traveling with you. I have business on Joth to attend to, and I see no reason to pass on a free ride. Next, you imply that my client’s motives are less than scrupulous. I can assure you, that’s not the case.”

  “Uh huh.” Leslie sipped her wine.

  “No offense, Tenza, but who you choose to associate with on your time is your business,” Matt said. “When you bring those parties onto our ship, that business becomes ours. How can I be certain this client of yours is on the up and up?”

  “You can’t,” Tenza said. “Not truly, anyway. What you can be certain of is the rate of compensation he’s prepared to pay for your services.”

  “Which is?” Leslie asked.

  “Ten thousand credit up
front with another fifteen upon arrival at Purlit starport.”

  Matt almost choked on his ale. “That’s three times our normal rate.”

  “So it is,” Tenza said. “And it comes at quite the fortuitous time, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Leslie’s look turned sideways.

  “And you’re sure this guy’s legit?” Matt asked.

  “As I’ve said, Matthew.” Tenza sighed. “I don’t make it a point to know my clients’ affairs. They come to me with a need. We negotiate a price, then I leverage my contacts to meet that need. The end. As it pertains to this client in particular, I came to you out of respect for our history, and because I, like everyone else in Akalla starport, knows of Furyk Freight’s less than ideal finances these days.” He huffed and sipped his ale. “Frankly, I thought you’d be grateful.”

  Matt chewed his lip.

  “So, what’ll it be, mate?” Tenza asked. “Twenty-five thousand credit for a single day’s sail to Joth. Do you want the contract or not?”

  Matt studied his ale glass for a moment then turned to Leslie across the table. As his wife, she was clearly still livid over Tenza’s attempts to goad them into taking his deal. As Matt’s business partner, however, she recognized the rewards of that deal as well as he did.

  Twenty-five thousand credit. They could do a lot with that kind of cash. Catch up on bills, pay off some debts. Maybe even sink some much-needed upgrades into the Bonifay. Then there was the baby to consider.

  Matt cringed when another voice entered his head.

  “I gave my little girl everything she could’ve possibly wanted in this life.” Charles Vanderbon had all but scowled a hole through his soon-to-be son-in-law when the latter had asked the former for his Tretrayon daughter’s hand in marriage. “And how does she reward that investment? By running off to the stars in search of adventure with a low-class piece of Akallan gutter trash as her husband. Go figure.”

  Matt’s fists clinched under the table. “Tell your client he’s got himself a transport.”