cargo manifest was one of the most beautiful works of art Kazmer could remember having seen.
It would have been much easier for him to feel confident about the validity of the counter-endorsements on his documentation if there hadn’t been four fully armed representatives from Fleet’s shore patrol with him in the office, along with the receiving officer; but there was no reason to fear that this unusually aggressive presence was in any way related to the potential weaknesses in his documentation.
No reason.
He had to stay calm.
“Grain, medicinal botanicals, and luxury fabrics from Shilling,” the receiving officer read aloud. “Interesting mix, pilot.”
Kazmer bowed. “Yes, ma’am. We had to piece a cargo together from odd lots to get a full load.” Otherwise, grain and luxury textiles wouldn’t normally be traveling together — the margins were all off. Without the grain they’d carried with them from Port Charid, however, it would have been too easy for a suspicious mind to match their cargo to a list of goods misappropriated in a raid on a warehouse at Rikavie.
There was obvious risk of arousing suspicion even with the camouflage the grain provided the cargo, but that was what they were being paid for — to run the risk of getting caught with stolen merchandise.
It went without saying that there was nothing in the documentation to indicate that the freighter had been anywhere near Rikavie recently.
“H’mm.” She handed the documentation back to him, but she hadn’t stopped to seal it for release. Maybe she’d just forgotten. Yes. Surely she’d just forgotten. It would be so embarrassing to be caught with irregular documentation. It had never happened to him. “Well, everything looks unobjectionable, pilot. But Fleet wants every freighter in your gross weight category off-loaded and searched. It’ll be half a day, and Port Anglace apologizes for the inconvenience. Quarantine. These people will escort you.”
It didn’t have to be a problem. It didn’t have to be. Ships were off-loaded from time to time as a check on blatant cargo fraud, but the ports resisted it, because it was a time-consuming inconvenience and discouraged traffic. Kazmer stalled, hoping for reassurance.
“Of course, receiving officer. I hadn’t realized there was a new policy in place at Anglace, though. I have to admit I’d have gone to Isener, I’d have been able to pay the crew off that much sooner.”
And since the chartering company he was claiming to represent was responsible for wages until the crew was released, and since Kazmer was representing himself as a joint owner of the small cargo-carrying venture, it was a direct hit to his very own personal profits.
The receiving officer’s mouth twisted in a sour grimace. “So would everybody. But it wouldn’t have done you any good.”
Of course not , Kazmer thought. The fence’s contact was here, and he was responsible for getting the goods to the drop site, and that meant Anglace. Not Isener. But the receiving officer didn’t know that. What she apparently did know provided no particular comfort, unfortunately.
“This is system-wide, but only for ships of your weight class. There’s been more trouble at Port Charid, and the mercantile corporations are screaming for Fleet support.”
Bad. Very bad. “I heard some gossip at Shilling,” Kazmer admitted, speaking slowly, hoping to encourage the receiving officer to talk. “A lot of inventory wastage going on at Port Charid. Some words about Langsariks, but that doesn’t make sense — where would they even get ships?”
The shore patrol didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to rush him to quarantine, so it couldn’t be an issue of any real urgency. He might have to pay off the Port Authority; that was going to be hard to manage with Fleet personnel on the premises. But he could still get through this all right.
The receiving officer shook her head with evident relish for her role as the
It would have been much easier for him to feel confident about the validity of the counter-endorsements on his documentation if there hadn’t been four fully armed representatives from Fleet’s shore patrol with him in the office, along with the receiving officer; but there was no reason to fear that this unusually aggressive presence was in any way related to the potential weaknesses in his documentation.
No reason.
He had to stay calm.
“Grain, medicinal botanicals, and luxury fabrics from Shilling,” the receiving officer read aloud. “Interesting mix, pilot.”
Kazmer bowed. “Yes, ma’am. We had to piece a cargo together from odd lots to get a full load.” Otherwise, grain and luxury textiles wouldn’t normally be traveling together — the margins were all off. Without the grain they’d carried with them from Port Charid, however, it would have been too easy for a suspicious mind to match their cargo to a list of goods misappropriated in a raid on a warehouse at Rikavie.
There was obvious risk of arousing suspicion even with the camouflage the grain provided the cargo, but that was what they were being paid for — to run the risk of getting caught with stolen merchandise.
It went without saying that there was nothing in the documentation to indicate that the freighter had been anywhere near Rikavie recently.
“H’mm.” She handed the documentation back to him, but she hadn’t stopped to seal it for release. Maybe she’d just forgotten. Yes. Surely she’d just forgotten. It would be so embarrassing to be caught with irregular documentation. It had never happened to him. “Well, everything looks unobjectionable, pilot. But Fleet wants every freighter in your gross weight category off-loaded and searched. It’ll be half a day, and Port Anglace apologizes for the inconvenience. Quarantine. These people will escort you.”
It didn’t have to be a problem. It didn’t have to be. Ships were off-loaded from time to time as a check on blatant cargo fraud, but the ports resisted it, because it was a time-consuming inconvenience and discouraged traffic. Kazmer stalled, hoping for reassurance.
“Of course, receiving officer. I hadn’t realized there was a new policy in place at Anglace, though. I have to admit I’d have gone to Isener, I’d have been able to pay the crew off that much sooner.”
And since the chartering company he was claiming to represent was responsible for wages until the crew was released, and since Kazmer was representing himself as a joint owner of the small cargo-carrying venture, it was a direct hit to his very own personal profits.
The receiving officer’s mouth twisted in a sour grimace. “So would everybody. But it wouldn’t have done you any good.”
Of course not , Kazmer thought. The fence’s contact was here, and he was responsible for getting the goods to the drop site, and that meant Anglace. Not Isener. But the receiving officer didn’t know that. What she apparently did know provided no particular comfort, unfortunately.
“This is system-wide, but only for ships of your weight class. There’s been more trouble at Port Charid, and the mercantile corporations are screaming for Fleet support.”
Bad. Very bad. “I heard some gossip at Shilling,” Kazmer admitted, speaking slowly, hoping to encourage the receiving officer to talk. “A lot of inventory wastage going on at Port Charid. Some words about Langsariks, but that doesn’t make sense — where would they even get ships?”
The shore patrol didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to rush him to quarantine, so it couldn’t be an issue of any real urgency. He might have to pay off the Port Authority; that was going to be hard to manage with Fleet personnel on the premises. But he could still get through this all right.
The receiving officer shook her head with evident relish for her role as the
Similar Books
