Chapter Nine - Accidental Exposure
The feeling of success was a beautiful thing. How many times would he continue to win against his competitors? There seemed to be no end to his luck — no — his skill, in his recent encounters.
Murdock stood in his cargo hold and inspected the five barrels of Soffulan Oil he had just obtained from the colonists on the planet of Sofful. The deal had worked out better than he expected when he’d arrived to find the settlers thirsty and hungry in a hot season of drought. It had been an easy trade, after some convincing. Their pure oil in exchange for a small quantity of water and rations.
The potent oil would be blended with several types of fuel, creating a powerful, but expensive, engine performance additive. The value of the barrels would likely turn out to be of more than the entire value of the settlers’ colony, but it was not his job to compare those financial relations. They had needed water and water is what he supplied. The fact that they would need that oil for heat during the approaching frigid and lengthy winter was none of his concern.
He would likely be able to trade off the oil barrels to a refiner long before his next meeting with the Guard. More trades meant more confusion and a lesser ability for the Guard to calculate exactly what their profit margin was, when nothing of the original hauls remained. Like always, he would give them a small cut of the perceived levels of the gained cargo. In this case, they had obtained only one barrel from the Sofful colonists, had they not? It was difficult to prove when the oil had been traded away long ago and all that remained was his word. The manipulation of the system was really quite simple. It would make for another easy success.
Murdock finished inputting some data into the log on his handheld computer. After a few last taps, he put the device down and headed up to the cockpit.
As Murdock entered, one of his crew members sprung to his feet and acknowledged him with a quick, “Sir.” Murdock looked at him but otherwise made no response. His crew was exercising the correct level of respect for authority that he expected aboard his ship.
Managing the ship was much simpler when there was a lack of familiarity between the crew and their captain. He knew their background, as he had researched them fully before allowing them aboard, but did not engage in friendly chatter. They understood that they were there to do a job and would be rewarded when they successfully completed the tasks at hand. Richards had been lost. It was unfortunate, but it was not Murdock’s fault. Jak Phoenix had caused that trouble, not him. In the end, a four way split of profits was far superior to a five way split.
The cockpit on his ship was large enough to allow for the two pilots in seated positions and a raised seat behind them where Murdock could sit, surrounded in computer screens displaying whatever was happening on his crew’s computers. This way he could second guess and check the decisions made by his less experienced staff.
“Should I continue the course toward the rendezvous with Captain Cartrite?” asked Philips, the navigator.
“Well that is on our flight plan,” replied Murdock with a voice of annoyance. “So yes, that would be correct.” Why did they feel the need to constantly second guess him? Everything had already been well planned out.
The pay-off on the Scoparian artifacts was going to be big. Captain Cartrite himself was waiting for them and had offered him an exorbitant amount of money. Murdock couldn’t figure out where Cartrite was going to find a rich enough buyer to end up making a profit on those pieces, but that was, of course, none of his concern.
“Sir, I’m not positive but I think I just caught something on the sensors. It was just a minor flash, on the very edge of our sensor range.”
“Any other readings?” asked Murdock.
“No, nothing else. It was there, then it was gone. Like it just entered the fringe of our scanning range and then dropped back out.”
Murdoch reviewed a star chart. He hated breaking from his schedule, but a stop was now in order.
“Drop out of FTL immediately and head to the G33 moon,” ordered Murdock.
“Cutting the heavy engines now, sir.”
The helmsman cut the power and the ship dropped out of its faster-than-light speed in an instant. The blip on the sensors promptly showed itself again.
Murdock smiled. It was all too easy. “It’s a ship,” he said. “They were smart enough to know the limits of our sensors and stayed just outside them. Unfortunately for them, they were not careful enough. Now, take the ship in close to the moon and get into a low orbit. I want to be on the other side when they get here. We’ll lose them and teach them a lesson at the same time. Understood?”
Jak Phoenix Page 11
