officer replied. “We’ll be fine.”
“ All right. I’m going to contact the company receiving our cargo,” Rice told her, heading into the office just off of the bridge.
The Blue Jay carried three hundred ten thousand ton cargo containers, but a hundred and sixty of them were the ‘main cargo’ – the contract that covered the fuel, salaries and other operating costs required to get the immense starship from Sherwood to Corinthian. The other hundred and forty containers were filled with over three hundred single and partial container contracts, but those Rice would leave to the ship’s three clerks to contact the customers and arrange delivery.
H e always handled the main cargo personally. Problems with that contract could easily bankrupt him, so he made a point of knowing who he was dealing with. It was a matter of moments for him to pull up the communications codes for the company receiving their load of raw hardwood and luxury furniture.
A cheerfully redheaded girl who looked barely out of school answered the call.
“Bistro Manufacturing, Jessica speaking, how may I help you?” she spieled off brightly.
“Good morning Jessica,” Rice replied, checking the station time on the corner of his screen as he spoke. Like most ships and stations, Corinthian Prime ran on Olympus Mons Time and the twenty-four hour day of Earth and terraformed Mars, but it was always good to check.
“ I have a cargo for delivery to Bistro from the Sherwood system,” he continued. “My contract says to arrange delivery with Mister John Bistro himself.”
“ The starship delivery!” the girl squealed, and David barely concealed his wince at the pitch of her voice. She was very young. Given that Bistro Manufacturing was easily in the top twenty corporations on Corinthian, David was pretty sure he knew her last name. “Mr. Bistro will want to speak to you straight away, please hold,” she finished.
A corporate boilerplate hold screen pulled from a template Rice had seen on at least twelve worlds covered the screen as he waited for the girl to get her boss, the manager and sole owner of a billion-dollar planet-wide enterprise, on the line.
He was considering looking for a book when the hold screen evaporated to show a different room entirely. John Bistro was an iron-haired older man who could have passed for brothers with Mage-Governor McLaughlin, the overlord of Sherwood who’d left Rice with so many troubles.
“Captain Rice, it is an absolute pleasure to hear from you,” the industrial magnate announced. “I have to admit, every time I send a few dozen million out-system to purchase a cargo, I never really relax until the cargo makes it back to Corinthian. You had no issues, I trust?”
“ Unfortunately, I can’t say that,” Rice told him dryly. “We were attacked by pirates just outside Sherwood, but I don’t believe any of the cargo containers were damaged. I would recommend,” he continued after a moment’s thought, “that you have your staff check over the cargo as quickly as possible, so we can include any damage in the insurance claim.”
Bistro blinked rapidly for a moment. “Pirates?!” he said incredulously. “What were they going to do with a million tons of raw hardwood?”
Rice cut off a chuckle quickly, but he saw the smile on the magnate’s face and returned it. The image of the Blue Star Syndicate trying to fence hardwood through channels normally reserved for drugs, guns, and slaves was certainly… interesting. He wasn’t going to admit to the other man, though, that the pirate attack had been directed at him personally.
“ I imagine they were after some of the smaller, high value, items in the secondary shipment,” he told Bistro after a moment. “Thanks to some ingenuity on the part of my Ship’s Mage, however, we saw them off with only hull damage.”
“That is good news, Captain,” Bistro agreed. “I’ll have my people co-ordinate offloading our cargo with Prime control.
“ All right. I’m going to contact the company receiving our cargo,” Rice told her, heading into the office just off of the bridge.
The Blue Jay carried three hundred ten thousand ton cargo containers, but a hundred and sixty of them were the ‘main cargo’ – the contract that covered the fuel, salaries and other operating costs required to get the immense starship from Sherwood to Corinthian. The other hundred and forty containers were filled with over three hundred single and partial container contracts, but those Rice would leave to the ship’s three clerks to contact the customers and arrange delivery.
H e always handled the main cargo personally. Problems with that contract could easily bankrupt him, so he made a point of knowing who he was dealing with. It was a matter of moments for him to pull up the communications codes for the company receiving their load of raw hardwood and luxury furniture.
A cheerfully redheaded girl who looked barely out of school answered the call.
“Bistro Manufacturing, Jessica speaking, how may I help you?” she spieled off brightly.
“Good morning Jessica,” Rice replied, checking the station time on the corner of his screen as he spoke. Like most ships and stations, Corinthian Prime ran on Olympus Mons Time and the twenty-four hour day of Earth and terraformed Mars, but it was always good to check.
“ I have a cargo for delivery to Bistro from the Sherwood system,” he continued. “My contract says to arrange delivery with Mister John Bistro himself.”
“ The starship delivery!” the girl squealed, and David barely concealed his wince at the pitch of her voice. She was very young. Given that Bistro Manufacturing was easily in the top twenty corporations on Corinthian, David was pretty sure he knew her last name. “Mr. Bistro will want to speak to you straight away, please hold,” she finished.
A corporate boilerplate hold screen pulled from a template Rice had seen on at least twelve worlds covered the screen as he waited for the girl to get her boss, the manager and sole owner of a billion-dollar planet-wide enterprise, on the line.
He was considering looking for a book when the hold screen evaporated to show a different room entirely. John Bistro was an iron-haired older man who could have passed for brothers with Mage-Governor McLaughlin, the overlord of Sherwood who’d left Rice with so many troubles.
“Captain Rice, it is an absolute pleasure to hear from you,” the industrial magnate announced. “I have to admit, every time I send a few dozen million out-system to purchase a cargo, I never really relax until the cargo makes it back to Corinthian. You had no issues, I trust?”
“ Unfortunately, I can’t say that,” Rice told him dryly. “We were attacked by pirates just outside Sherwood, but I don’t believe any of the cargo containers were damaged. I would recommend,” he continued after a moment’s thought, “that you have your staff check over the cargo as quickly as possible, so we can include any damage in the insurance claim.”
Bistro blinked rapidly for a moment. “Pirates?!” he said incredulously. “What were they going to do with a million tons of raw hardwood?”
Rice cut off a chuckle quickly, but he saw the smile on the magnate’s face and returned it. The image of the Blue Star Syndicate trying to fence hardwood through channels normally reserved for drugs, guns, and slaves was certainly… interesting. He wasn’t going to admit to the other man, though, that the pirate attack had been directed at him personally.
“ I imagine they were after some of the smaller, high value, items in the secondary shipment,” he told Bistro after a moment. “Thanks to some ingenuity on the part of my Ship’s Mage, however, we saw them off with only hull damage.”
“That is good news, Captain,” Bistro agreed. “I’ll have my people co-ordinate offloading our cargo with Prime control.
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