what?"
"You'll see. It's easy to tell you never spent any time in an Earthservice urbanplex. What's next?"
While they wormed their way through the ship, visiting the galley-booth, lifeboat station, main gun turret
—which had been hung with a Kikituk killing effigy—and the rest, Alacrity told Floyt the story of the monitors.
The ships had originally been sublight vessels, no-frills workhorses of the Spican fleet. Thousands had been built for the First and Second Spican civil wars; more for convoy duty during the Beguile spacelift.
They'd been used for patrol purposes and, in many cases, pressed into action as ships of the line.
Development of the Hawking Effect coincided, for Spica, with invasion by a neighboring system. The Spicans had only the time and resources for retrofitting with simple, mass-produced Hawking generators and astrogational gear.
After winning the war, Spica phased out the monitors, disposing of something like fifty thousand of them as war surplus. The vessel became the Model-T of the Third Breath.
"So, you still find 'em all over the place, especially in the backwaters," Alacrity told Floyt as they hunkered along.
"But how old is this thing?"
"Whew, maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty. But don't lose your grip! She'll get us where we're going.
Still, I'm surprised Amarok doesn't give himself a little more breathing room. Quaanaaq-Thule probably hasn't had a starship for long."
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (56 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:29
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
"It looks to me like he's poor."
"Nobody with a working starship is poor, Ho. It's just about impossible. You might be a little marginal if you owned a sublight scow in a poor star system, but a starship, uh-uh."
Alacrity tried to sound casual as he came around to his real point.
"In fact, if you've got your own starship, the only way you can be poor is by trying real hard."
"Alacrity … "
"What I'm saying is, every little gew-gaw Amarok's got stashed away in every cranny is worth a lot more, someplace, than he paid for it. He probably lives like this because he's only been in business a short time, has to pay off his backers or keep his family or tribe afloat or whatever. But at this rate it probably won't be long before he pays off the Pihoquiaq and starts trying to pick up another ship, especially with Redlock granting him trade concessions. That's how mercantile empires get started."
"Yes, that's all well and good, but—"
"I'm telling you, you give it another ten, twenty years and things'll be all different. More and more planets will be launching their own starships; competition will be murder. Oh, it'll always be a good life, don't get me wrong, but now is the time—"
"Alacrity, forget it."
"—when unlimited opportunities—"
" Will you kindly slap a seal on it? The Astraea Imprimatur goes straight back to Earth. Directly. No detours."
Alacrity felt a twist in his stomach and a sudden flash in his forehead, Earthservice conditioning endorsing Floyt's words in no uncertain terms. Floyt was rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger; his own conditioning had bedeviled him all through Alacrity's pitch.
"I'm sorry, Ho. Straight to Earth, aye. Once we find the damned thing. Um, is your conditioning going to keep you from learning about standing watch and helping run a ship? Because you might need to, once we've got the Astraea ; I might need help."
Floyt considered that. He'd been warned by Earthservice bureaucrats that unnecessary exposure to offworld ways might mean radical reorientation and more behavioral meddling. Regardless, it wasn't fair to expect Alacrity to shoulder all the work if they had to ferry the Astraea Imprimatur themselves. Floyt felt no twist of negative reaction. He decided, To hell with the injunctions and resigned himself to Earthservice reorientation, if that's what it was to cost him.
"You'll see. It's easy to tell you never spent any time in an Earthservice urbanplex. What's next?"
While they wormed their way through the ship, visiting the galley-booth, lifeboat station, main gun turret
—which had been hung with a Kikituk killing effigy—and the rest, Alacrity told Floyt the story of the monitors.
The ships had originally been sublight vessels, no-frills workhorses of the Spican fleet. Thousands had been built for the First and Second Spican civil wars; more for convoy duty during the Beguile spacelift.
They'd been used for patrol purposes and, in many cases, pressed into action as ships of the line.
Development of the Hawking Effect coincided, for Spica, with invasion by a neighboring system. The Spicans had only the time and resources for retrofitting with simple, mass-produced Hawking generators and astrogational gear.
After winning the war, Spica phased out the monitors, disposing of something like fifty thousand of them as war surplus. The vessel became the Model-T of the Third Breath.
"So, you still find 'em all over the place, especially in the backwaters," Alacrity told Floyt as they hunkered along.
"But how old is this thing?"
"Whew, maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty. But don't lose your grip! She'll get us where we're going.
Still, I'm surprised Amarok doesn't give himself a little more breathing room. Quaanaaq-Thule probably hasn't had a starship for long."
file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruis...aley%20-%20Jinx%20on%20a%20Terran%20Inheritance.htm (56 of 320)19-2-2006 17:12:29
[Fitzhugh 2]-JINX ON A TERRAN INHERITANCE
"It looks to me like he's poor."
"Nobody with a working starship is poor, Ho. It's just about impossible. You might be a little marginal if you owned a sublight scow in a poor star system, but a starship, uh-uh."
Alacrity tried to sound casual as he came around to his real point.
"In fact, if you've got your own starship, the only way you can be poor is by trying real hard."
"Alacrity … "
"What I'm saying is, every little gew-gaw Amarok's got stashed away in every cranny is worth a lot more, someplace, than he paid for it. He probably lives like this because he's only been in business a short time, has to pay off his backers or keep his family or tribe afloat or whatever. But at this rate it probably won't be long before he pays off the Pihoquiaq and starts trying to pick up another ship, especially with Redlock granting him trade concessions. That's how mercantile empires get started."
"Yes, that's all well and good, but—"
"I'm telling you, you give it another ten, twenty years and things'll be all different. More and more planets will be launching their own starships; competition will be murder. Oh, it'll always be a good life, don't get me wrong, but now is the time—"
"Alacrity, forget it."
"—when unlimited opportunities—"
" Will you kindly slap a seal on it? The Astraea Imprimatur goes straight back to Earth. Directly. No detours."
Alacrity felt a twist in his stomach and a sudden flash in his forehead, Earthservice conditioning endorsing Floyt's words in no uncertain terms. Floyt was rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger; his own conditioning had bedeviled him all through Alacrity's pitch.
"I'm sorry, Ho. Straight to Earth, aye. Once we find the damned thing. Um, is your conditioning going to keep you from learning about standing watch and helping run a ship? Because you might need to, once we've got the Astraea ; I might need help."
Floyt considered that. He'd been warned by Earthservice bureaucrats that unnecessary exposure to offworld ways might mean radical reorientation and more behavioral meddling. Regardless, it wasn't fair to expect Alacrity to shoulder all the work if they had to ferry the Astraea Imprimatur themselves. Floyt felt no twist of negative reaction. He decided, To hell with the injunctions and resigned himself to Earthservice reorientation, if that's what it was to cost him.
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