Inadvertent Adventures (11 page)

"It is, but we have a thousand ton shuttle for planetary deliveries. We can only carry nineteen thousand tons of cargo," Ann answered.

"Ah, I see. A moment, please." He flipped open a large, almost archaic looking MemoBook and started searching through his files. After just a few moments he looked up and smiled. "I have a fifteen thousand ton consignment going to the asteroid mining colony over in Chin Paradise. It's only a fifteen light year voyage."

"And what is our margin on this consignment?" Ann asked warily. Consignment was a double edged sword that could cut the legs off a ship if the captain wasn't careful.

"Five percent," the man said with a smile.

Ann frowned. "That probably wouldn't cover our fuel, much less give us a profit. Ten percent, or nothing."

"Nothing then," the man said in an offended tone. "We do not pay extortion to such minor shippers as you."

"Such is our life," Ann said and turned away.

It was six hours later when another shipper approached them. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Captain Stevenson of the
Admiral Ann's Revenge.
Is he here?"

"
She
is right there," Sterling said, pointing to Ann.

"Oh, forgive me," the man said, obviously flustered to have made such a basic mistake. He walked over to Ann and cleared his throat. "Captain Stevenson, I understand that you are in need of a cargo."

"We are," Ann agreed. "What do you have and how much of it?"

"Proto-beets, one of Arratu Edin's most nutritious native plants," he said proudly. "There is an assortment of other food stuffs as well. I have seventeen thousand tons going to the Erin Combine's shipyard in the Dragon system. It is a straight payment of fifty-thousand credits on arrival. I heard that you didn't like CC's percentage, so I wrote the contract out as straight fee rather than percentage. Payment on arrival. Is that acceptable?"

"It is," Ann said and the man handed over a 'Pad for her signature.

"I will have the shipment brought over immediately. Good day, Captain." With that he left the ship, hurrying away and talking into his wrist communicator.

The shipment started arriving within fifteen minutes. Crate after crate of knobby tubers the size of soccer balls were brought in and taken to the hold by the
Revenge's
cranes. Crates of bagged grains and other vegetables quickly followed.

Denise and Olaf were there to help supervise the loading process and Olaf had to grin as he said, "Beats the hell out of loading beets on the
Jane,
doesn't it?"

"Yes it does, Olaf. Yes it does. But sometimes I miss the cranky old bitch."

Olaf put his arm around her shoulder. "So do I, Denise. Sometimes I miss that little ship more than I miss Jerry and Will."

Denise smiled sadly up at him, then turned and went to control. She was letting Bart plot the course to the Dragon system, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to verify everything he was doing. Navigation was, after all, her responsibility.

T
HE
ADMIRAL ANN'S REVENGE
LEFT ARRATU EDIN’S
orbit nine hours later with a full hold. Even the shuttle's cargo bay had been loaded when the bulk exceeded the capacity of the
Revenge.

This was the heaviest load they had so far carried, and Sterling was taking it easy on the ship as they accelerated out of the system. Olaf called up to Control three hours into the voyage. "Engineering to Control. All systems are nominal. If you want to open her up, she's ready."

"Mister Stevenson," Captain Ann said in a silky purr, "you may give the engines a full power test whenever you are ready."

"Full power test in three, two, one, mark," he said, pushing the engine power setting on his controls to one hundred percent. The ship shivered and the apparent gravity on board increased as engines that were designed to move half again the
Revenge's
mass shoved her toward the stars. "We will hit point one C in three days at this rate."

"How much extra is this costing us in fuel?" Ann asked. It was the first time she'd ever worried about fuel economy, but, then again, the Navy used to pay for it all, not her.

"It expends about ten percent more fuel than maintaining fifty percent like we have been doing," Sterling replied.

"Cut your engines back to fifty percent, then, Mister Stevenson. No sense in wasting our profit on showing off, but it's comforting to know she can do that if needed." Ann smiled as Sterling throttled back and the pressure on her chest eased.

"How long till hyperspace minimum, Sterling?" Ann asked and he consulted his panel.

"Seven days, two hours, and thirty odd minutes."

"Very well. Set regular space watch sections, and get Carrie-Marie in the galley. I'm hungry."

Everyone hurried to obey Ann's order with Sterling taking the command chair and Bart Roberts taking Navigation and Helm. With nothing ahead of them except open space and a few meteors, one person was all that was needed.

The trip through hyperspace was routine. No one wanted it to be anything else. Non-routine in hyperspace tended to be dangerous. The crew settled down and began to firm up. There was still a little friction, but it was easing as familiarity and close quarters brought even Thom Oslund around. It took just five days ship time in hyper to reach their emergence point and the computers warned them two hours ahead of time.

Ann was in her command chair, Amanda was at the helm, and Denise was at the navigator's station. Emergence was always the most dangerous part of a trip. There was no way of knowing what was in your path until you hit normal space, and at one tenth the speed of light, even a grain of sand could be dangerous.

The Dragon system had no habitable planets, but it did have an abundance of nickel-iron asteroids. The Erin Combine had come to the system as a mining operation, and stayed for over two hundred years as a premier builder of civilian spaceships. The
Admiral Ann's Revenge
was directed toward the central portion of the cluster of shipyards and ordered to dock at Green Dragon Eight.

Station Health checked the ship thoroughly before allowing the hatches to be opened. A man in the uniform of the Erin Combine was waiting when the hatch opened. "I am Allan O'Reordan. I understand that you have a shipment of produce for my kitchens."

"We do, Sir," Ann agreed. "We'll begin unloading as soon as you sign for the payment."

"You'll begin unloading now and I'll sign if I'm satisfied."

"No, Sir. This is a payment on arrival contract, and I won't unseal the hatch until we've been paid."

The man took a step back and smiled. "I don't think you know who you're dealing with."

"And I know you don't know who
you
are dealing with. But you go first so I can be impressed," Ann almost snarled back at him.

"I control these docks. You cross me, you won't get another load, or even fuel. Got me?"

Ann almost laughed. "We have fuel enough to reach another system, Mister O'Reordan. You'll have a hard time explaining why we left with your food shipment still on board."

The man glared at her, then looked over his shoulder. Three men came forward, one in a suit, one in a System Security uniform, and a third in the uniform of a CSS-SN lieutenant commander with the name Bradford on his breast.

"Is there a problem, Mister O'Reordan?" the Security officer asked.

"There is a problem with this shipment. I want this ship impounded and the cargo seized," he snapped and the three men looked at Ann.

"Captain," the Navy officer began but Ann held up her hand to stop him.

"Admiral. To be precise, Rear Admiral Annette Fairmont Stevenson, retired, commanding officer of the armed merchantman
Admiral Ann's Revenge."

"Um, what would be the problem?" the lieutenant commander asked.

"The problem is that this man wants to modify our contract now that we've arrived. I will not unseal the ship until he has signed for our payment. That is how the contract is worded. If you try anything else, I'll issue a call to Beta Sector Command and request an arbitrator. Or, if you insist, I'll undock and take these damn vegetables elsewhere."

"You won't get away with-"

"Allan, shut up," the lieutenant commander whispered harshly. "Just sign the damn contract. I'll explain later."

"Taylor, what--"

"Just do it. No tricks. Not with this ship."

O'Reordan gave Lieutenant Commander Bradford a look that carried a thousand questions, but finally took the contract from Ann and signed it. "There. Now deliver our shipment."

Ann nodded to Sterling and the big cargo hatch opened. Sleds and lifts entered the ship as Sterling delivered stacked crates to the main door with his cranes. It took far less time to unload than it had taken to load, and Ann stayed beside Mister O'Reordan the whole time, counting crates as they passed.

"That is the entire shipment, Mister O'Reordan."

"Very well. But I meant what I said. You won't get--"

"Allan, don't!" Lieutenant Commander Bradford snapped.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Taylor?"

"Her,"
he almost shouted as he pointed at Ann. "Her maiden name is Fairmont, as in
Secretary of Commerce
Fairmont. She's his baby sister. You want her crying on big brother's shoulder about the combine?"

The man looked at Ann with a sick expression on his face, then fled. The security man followed him. Finally, the man in the suit stepped forward. "Captain, or should I say
Admiral
Stevenson, what is your capacity?"

"We can haul nineteen thousand tons," she answered.

"Very well. I will see if we have a shipment that small. Good day to you," he said with a slight bow.

"Who was that O'Reordan character?" she asked before he had turned completely away.

"Allan? He's sort of an unofficial official. He keeps things running on the docks with little trouble."

"You should replace him. Commander Bradford is correct. It would be unfortunate if I had to call in a favor from Andy."

The man paused, and then shook his head. "Some people are hard to replace, Admiral Stevenson. Allan wields a lot of power on these docks."

"I see," Ann said as she looked past the man. "I see indeed."

"I'll contact you shortly about a cargo, but we seldom have anything small enough for you to carry." Without another word he turned and walked away with Lieutenant Commander Bradford close on his heels.

* * *

A message arrived for Ann three hours later.
"Admiral Ann's Revenge
, we have a shipment to the Maori System. It's small, just ten thousand tons, but urgently needed. The space liner
Herakles
has suffered an engineering casualty and is stranded in Maori orbit. She needs a complete new set of Johansen Coils, and the dockyards in Maori only have three. I'll guarantee you a twenty-thousand credit profit if you'll take the load and leave now."

"He wants us out of here for some reason," Ann mused as she chewed the end of her stylus. "Fortunately, I want out of here badly enough to take a low profit shipment to make it happen. Signal our acceptance and get down to the hold, Sterling. Start loading and I'll be down in just a bit to sign for it."

The loading process was well underway when Ann arrived. Olaf had brought Balder Pastulka and Thom Oslund up to help, and it was Balder who stopped everything. "Sterling, hold up on this one!" he shouted as the crane lifted a crate.

Sterling immediately stopped the crane and lowered the crate back to the deck. "What ya got?"

"Seal ain't right, Sterling," he shouted up. He turned to face Ann. "The seal on this crate has been tampered with. See? It's not aligned properly."

Ann turned to face Lieutenant Commander Bradford. "Have it opened and inspected or it all comes off my ship," she commanded.

Lieutenant Commander Bradford nodded, but he looked unhappy. The crate was brought out and a cargo strap cutter applied to the seal. When the crate was opened, there was nothing to see but a section of coil.

"Looks fine to me," Mister Bradford said, but Balder shook his head.

"That's cause you don't know what to look for. I worked interdiction for five years on the
Cranston.
Look here," he said and pointed to the packing material around the coil. "See how disturbed this is? Someone shoved something down into the packing, and they were sloppy about it." He reached down into the packing foam and pulled out a block of grey material. He repeated the process three more times.

"Is that--?"

"Looks like it. Someone just tried to smuggle arish powder on my ship," Ann said in a flat tone. "Get the rest of that crap off my ship. I'll run dry before I--"

"Captain, wait," the man in the suit said as he came forward with his hands raised. "Please calm down. We'll inspect the cargo very carefully and ensure there are no other contraband items."

Ann turned to Lieutenant Commander Bradford and said, "You'll get your drug dog and search the whole thing. Now. If anything else is found, my brother will be the least of your worries." The young officer reacted to Ann's order as if she had shouted and all but ran away from the dock.

"As for you," she said as she turned to face the man in the suit, "I mean it as well. We can afford one bad run if we have to. But if I have to, you'll be facing some very tough questions."

"I'm sure there is nothing else in the shipment, Admiral Stevenson," he assured her, but he was nervous and kept looking toward the ship.

Lieutenant Commander Bradford returned with a dog and her handler half an hour later. Ann accompanied them into the hold while Sterling and Olaf stayed at the hatch. No other drugs were found on board, but just as the last crate was being brought in the dog whined.

"What do you smell, Isabel?" the handler asked, and Isabel scratched at the crate. "She says there's something inside, Sir," he reported to Lieutenant Commander Bradford.

This time no one was hesitant at all about opening the crate. Inside they didn't find drugs: they found a bomb.