Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (7 page)

“You know what this means, don’t you, Ishmael?” He looked at me with a kindly smile.

“You tell me. I’m so buried in possibilities, I’m not sure which end is up, and I’m still thinking that when the dust settles this is going to have been just pipe dreams. I’ll clear a few thousand, and be back at work on the next ship out.”

He shook his head. “Even if it’s only one million, that’s enough to retire on. You could probably live off the income from that and be very comfortable for the rest of your life.” He paused to let me consider that. “You and the chief could get a little place down on the ground, raise up a batch of little shipmates...”

He saw the stricken look on my face and his voice trailed off.

“The chief and I won’t be doing anything.” I tried to keep my voice low and level but was surprised how hard that was. “At least nothing like that.”

He frowned. “Why? I thought you were head over heels for her.”

It must have been my turn for the dumb blinking. I felt like he’d hit me on the back of the head and all I could do was stare at him.

“What? You think we’re blind?” The smile crept back across his face. “Things have been a little odd here for awhile, but I thought, that is Gwen and I both thought...” He could see he wasn’t connecting with my higher brain functions. “What? Something’s happened?”

“We had a little chat and she made it clear that she’s not interested in an extended relationship with me. It’s impossible while I’m captain and she’s in my crew anyway, but she made it quite clear that I’m not on her manifest.”

He placed both palms on the table and pushed himself upright. “Is that what she told you?” The disbelief sounded plainly in his voice.

I grimaced and nodded. “Yeah. She caught me coming off watch about a week ago. We had a rather short and brutal conversation in the cabin. She made it pretty clear to me. Things have been a bit smoother since.”

He just looked at me like I was crazy before asking again, “That’s what she told you?”

“Yes, that’s what she told me.” I sighed and took a deep swig off my coffee.

“All right then,” he murmured, almost to himself. “So, now what?”

I shook my head. “Now we keep the ship together, wait for the outcome of the Captain’s Board, and see what happens day after tomorrow.”

“What happens day after tomorrow?” He’d lost the smug smile and seemed as confused as I felt.

“We hire a new First Mate to replace Gwen and get this cargo moving to Jett.”

His face flashed into panic. “What? What do you mean replace Gwen! Where’s Gwen going?” Even in his distress his voice hissed out quietly although judging from his look I thought he might want to scream. I know I did.

“She’s going into the captain’s cabin,” I told him flatly. “Assuming she wants it. Does she?”

“Well, of course, but what about you?”

“I go ashore.”

“And do what?”

“Wait for the auction payout, and maybe help DST with refitting that ship for sale.”

“What? The
Jezebel
?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit of a wreck at the moment, but cleaned up, straightened out, and crewed properly, it might be something.”

He slumped into his seat again. “So, you’re thinking about going indie?”

I sighed and shrugged. “It’s the obvious choice and with that kind of windfall, I’ll never have a better chance.”

We sat there for a few ticks, sipping our coffee but I’m not sure either of us tasted it.

“Don’t tell Gwen.” I looked across at him. “Tonight when she gets back. Don’t tell her until after she gets through the interview.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

“Because it’ll be hard enough for her to do without sitting there thinking she’s gonna be sitting in the Captain’s chair before the week is out.”

He frowned. “That’s not usually how it works.”

“I know, but it’s something Maloney himself arranged before he died. He even reconvened her last panel so he must have thought she’d have a good chance.”

“But by the end of the week?”

“Kirsten Kingsley seemed to think so, and I’m not betting against that woman on a political wager.”

He snorted and we drank quietly for another few ticks before we were interrupted by the raucous sound of the lock’s call buzzer and we heard the lock mechanism open.

Avery looked at me in question and I shrugged. “Maybe an encyclopedia salesman.”

“A what?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. Ancient reference. Something my mother used to say.”

“Skipper? It’s for you.” Mr. Hill stood in the door to the mess deck with a burly looking man in a nicely tailored business suit with a briefcase under his arm.

I stood and crossed to meet him.

“Good morning, Captain. I’m Richard Larks, partner at Larks, Simpson, and Greene. Kirsten Kingsley asked me to visit you.”

“Larks, Simpson, and Greene,” I repeated trying to dredge up the name.

“Yes, Captain. We’ve been helping the Maloney family with their financial strategies for almost a century. My grandfather worked with Philo Maloney himself back in the beginning.”

“Impressive. Did Ms. Kingsley tell you why you should come see me on the ship today, Mr. Larks?”

He smiled. “She did, and might I suggest we go someplace where we can sit and chat? I think we have much to discuss.”

I turned to Mr. Hill. “Thank you, Mr. Hill. I’ll be in the cabin if you need me?”

He gave a little nod and headed back down the passage. He’d ask later, if I knew Mr. Hill. The curiosity would eat at him until he did.

“Coffee, Mr. Larks?”

“Only if it’s no bother, Captain.”

I looked over my shoulder, “Mr. Wyatt, could I trouble you for a tray?”

“Of course, Skipper. You gents go on up and I’ll bring you one in a moment.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wyatt.” I turned to my mountainous guest and nodded to the ladder. “This way, Mr. Larks.”

Chapter Five
Diurnia Orbital:
2372-December-18

Mr. Wyatt had the coffee service in the cabin almost before we settled and he grinned at me as he slipped out, latching the door behind him. Mr. Larks made appreciative noises over the coffee and looked around at the room.

“You look very comfortable here, Captain.”

“Thanks. It’s where I call home, and given how much time I can’t live anywhere else, it’s just as well.”

His laugh was a low rumble in his chest. “Makes sense, I suppose.” He sipped once more and then leaned forward, propping elbows on knees and clasping his hands in front of him. “So? How can I help you, Captain Wang?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Larks. What do you do? And how much will it cost me?”

He cocked his head as if to listen better out of his right ear. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m confused. Ms. Kingsley asked me to come help you with some financial planning. This trip costs you nothing, other than this coffee and a little time.”

“Yes, she said I should contact a financial planner. I didn’t realize she’d precipitate the meeting.”

“She said you’re about to come into a lot of money and that you needed some advice as to how to handle it.”

“Did she say any more than that?”

He shook his massive head. “Only that she’d take it as a personal favor and I would probably find it worthwhile.”

“Well, she thinks I’m going to be coming into a lot of money, and she’s probably right. This is out of my league, so some professional advice is probably called for.”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on my face. “I’ll need to know how much money, and maybe something about where it’s coming from...”

“Do you know about the salvage claim against the
Chernyakova
? DST has a substantial stake in that.”

“Of course, they stand to make a nice bonus on that. Even for a company the size of DST, it’s predicted to be a nice number.” He stopped in mid-thought and recognition blossomed on his face. “Ishmael Wang? You led the prize crew! Of course.”

“That’s me.”

“I apologize, Captain. I didn’t make the connection because you’re listed as First Mate on the documentation. Congratulations on making captain.”

“Thanks. So, you know that I’m going to get a big slice of that bonus.”

“Indeed you are. I think you’ll wind up with almost as much as the company gets. That’s usually the way it plays out, although, I confess, we’ve never seen a salvage claim this big. Usually they’re burned out hulks, or parts of hulks.”

“If this one had hit a rock, it might have been. We got to it before that happened.”

He raised his mug in my direction. “Well, congratulations. What do you want to do with your money?” He grinned playfully.

I shrugged and leaned back on the sofa. “I don’t know. What are my options?”

He placed his mug down on the table and sat back himself. “Hm. Well, for a company like DST, it’s respectable, but for an individual, this is huge. I take it you’re not already independently wealthy or already employing a team of tax accountants?”

I chuckled. “Safe assumption.”

He nodded and I could see him shifting his focus inward. “Your share is probably going to come in between five and ten million. The first task is to protect as much of that as possible from tax exposure.”

I hadn’t even considered taxes, but I grimaced inwardly as I realized that I should have.

“That kind of windfall?” He continued, frowning in thought. “Without doing anything, you’ll lose a quarter of it to taxes. You can invest it in ways that will cut that liability—generally by investing in the CPJCT.” He shrugged .“They make the rules, we just have to figure out how to use them to our advantage.”

“Okay, what can I do if I just pay the taxes on it?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “You won’t pay that much tax. We’ll see to that. The question is what do you want to do?”

“I really don’t know. This is moving pretty quickly.”

“Retire to the country? Buy a yacht? Pay off your school loans? Talk to me.”

“I’m thinking of going indie and starting my own line.”

“What? Buy a freighter?”

I nodded.

His frown deepened. “That’s why I said, for an individual it’s huge. You’re talking about starting a company with it? That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Price a few ships, Captain. You’ll see the problem. These vessels are expensive.” He shrugged. “There’s a reason the Chernakova will fetch a good price, but it’s going to be a fragment of what a new ship would cost.”

“What about a fast packet?”

He shrugged. “They’re smaller and slightly cheaper, but they’re still expensive and chancy to run.”

“Chancy?”

“Smaller ships, smaller cargoes, less flexibility.” He shrugged. “All the cargoes need to be relatively low mass, high value, and you’re competing on speed of delivery because the big, utility haulers will be competing on price.”

He made good sense. “You’ve obviously been around the orbital a couple of times, Mr. Larks.”

“A few,” he said with his low rumbling chuckle. “A few.”

“So, what’s your recommendation, Mr. Larks?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “First, you need to figure out what you want, Captain.”

I left that statement lying on the coffee table, and nodded for him to continue.

“If you’re serious about sailing about the galaxy, then think about maybe buying a yacht, something in the one ton range. You can pick one of those up with a modest down payment, and I can probably set you up with investment income that will pay your loan down while you loaf around the Western Annex. Do a little trading here and there. Follow your nose.” He let that settle a bit while I considered.

After a few heartbeats I asked, “How much do I need to go indie with a real ship?”

He frowned but I could see his wheels turning so I didn’t rush him. Eventually, he sighed and pulled his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. “Ten million will get you a leverage on a loan for maybe forty more. If you use the money to promote the idea, gain some venture capital backers...” he shrugged, “...you maybe could raise enough.”

“How much is enough?”

“Probably a hundred million to start. The problem with a loan is you have to cover the payments. On a hundred million? That’s a lot of freight. With venture capital, you only need to deal with keeping them happy. Usually, something like five or ten percent per annum.”

“How does that help?”

“With the right backers, you don’t need to start paying back until the contract says. Might be a stanyer, maybe two, maybe five. Depends on the backers and the contract.”

I could feel my excitement fading. “But what you’re saying is this settlement is enough to retire on, but not do anything with.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. That would be a good stake for, say, a trade broker. Somebody with a nose for cargo and value could make a good living brokering cargo around the sector.”

It hadn’t occurred to me to go into a different business. I tried it on for size in my mind.

While I was thinking, he continued. “It’s more than enough to open a restaurant. You could open a store. You’d be surprised how well import/exporters do here at a hub like Diurnia.”

I nodded. “Those are interesting ideas and I’ll need to think about them.”

“Don’t underestimate the value of retirement, Captain. You’d never have to work another day in your life with that much cushion. We can set you up with a very secure package that would generate upwards of three or four hundred thousand a year in income for you. How much house could you get with that kind of backing?”