Running With Argentine (13 page)

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Authors: William Lee Gordon

BOOK: Running With Argentine
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Shut Down and
Shot Down

 

 

Platform
12

 

They had
briefly considered returning to the ship but then realized it would be the most
suspicious thing they could do.

 

The photo image of Mandi had been taken from a slightly
elevated position looking down into the crowd, obviously from a security
camera. The good news was that none of the rest of them were in the frame. She
apparently hadn't tripped any security scans until after they'd separated.

 

After a brief consultation they agreed to carry on with
their tasks. Before that, however, Argentine stopped at a local kiosk and
bought them each a localized communicator.

 

"Check in every hour until we decide different,"
he'd said.

 

Damn that woman
, he thought to himself after everyone
had dispersed.

 

He'd done everything right. He and his crew were trying to
get a fresh start and play by the rules. All of this mess had been foisted upon
him and he had no stellar idea why…

 

At this rate, they were going to need a ship's doctor sooner
rather than later. He had a feeling his blood pressure was going through the
roof.

 

Planetary Enforcement… a Cartel…
everything he'd
tried to avoid.

 

Damn that woman.

 

 

ΔΔΔ

 

 

Argentine and Lieutenant
Stark were sitting in front of the desk of the man that had been introduced to
them as Guildsman Darian Martin.

 

"That's quite a story," Guildsman Martin said.

 

"It is pretty incredible isn't it?" Argentine
quipped while feigned pride.

 

He was doing his best not to show his shock at the
semi-elaborate story that the lieutenant had just spewed out concerning their
background. Instead of being deserters and abandoning their empire, they were
now heroes and had been bequeathed a ship by the Emperor himself as gratitude
for their good works… Or some such rot.

 

After smiling noncommittally, Guildsman Martin said,
"According to your papers you’re a prospecting ship. Why are you applying
for a long-haul freight run?"

 

This time Argentine handled the question…

 

"We've already been to the Miner's Guild. We have the
equipment but we don't have a geologist or trained personnel. From what they
tell us, they won't endorse us until we can prove that we make a habit of
bringing our crews back alive and profitable.

 

"And as I'm sure you know, without their endorsement no
crew will hire on with us.

 

"We may be designated a prospecting ship and we may be
a little bit undermanned, but our ship is strong enough and we have enough
cargo space to earn some credits and build some credibility.

 

"One advantage we have is that a prospecting ship is
set up to spend a lot of time in deep space – just like long-haul
freighters."

 

The Guildsman mulled that over for a moment and said,
"I can see the logic in that. In your situation I'd probably be trying to
do the same. The thing is, we're going to run into the same situation here.

 

"There's not a lot of people that will be willing to
risk valuable freight in the hands of an unknown carrier… And as I'm sure you
can understand, under the circumstances, the Guild won't ensure the
cargo."

 

"How can that be? I would assume that long-haul ships
would always be in demand?"

 

"Well, it’s not the ship we’re talking about, is
it?" the guildsman said. "It's the crew that everybody is being cautious
with. No offense meant."

 

"No offense taken," muttered Argentine.

 

"Look, the truth is we’re a very insular society. We've
learned the hard way and our rules are based on those hard lessons. Still, I
can understand your point of view. A man can't break into a guild unless he is
given a chance…

 

"I'll tell you what, let me check and see if we've got
any Fourth Class Mail sitting around. It wouldn't pay much; it probably won’t
even cover your expenses. But it would help establish a beginning record for
your crew…"

 

"We’d be very grateful for anything at this
point," Argentine admitted. "We expected we’d have to start small…
But, just what is Fourth Class Mail?"

 

While the guildsman scrolled through files on the monitor in
front of him he explained, "Fourth Class Mail is reserved for things that
don't necessarily ever have to arrive at their destination. Non-valuable
personal effects being sent home to family members of the deceased, uninsured
packages being returned as undeliverable… Those types of things."

 

When they'd said,
start off small,
they'd really
meant it, Argentine mused. But the upside was that if they could build a
reputation here they could buy themselves some time and some stability to get
back into the more lucrative profession of prospecting. Once they were geared
up for that, they could go anywhere they wanted...

 

They could earn enough credits for everyone to settle down
someplace with a life of luxury. Or, they could continue plying the stars and
going wherever the solar winds took them.

 

They would be truly free for the first time in any of their
lives.

 

"Hmm," Guildsman Martin said. "There's a flag
on your file. I'm afraid I'm not to be able to help you until you get it
removed."

 

"Who put the flag there and what do we need to
do?" asked the lieutenant.

 

"The flag was put there by the Asperian Police.
Apparently, they want to talk to you."

 

 

ΔΔΔ

 

 

"Really?
You have that many astrogators as members? And they're all based out of
Asperia?"

 

Gossip, Barry, and Sami were sitting in the lobby of the
Asperian Astrogation Guild's offices. Platform 12 was, indeed, the hub for
Asperia’s interstellar commerce. It was no surprise then that these offices
were located here.

 

And nice offices they were. The Pelican’s crew was still
getting used to the idea that a space platform could have multi-story open
spaces utilized for concourses or other public areas. It was an incredible
waste of space.

 

That's why the guild's atrium was so impressive. It was a
lavish display of wealth that this private lobby was open to three levels.

 

They were all sitting in comfortable faux leather chairs.
Across from them sat the guild staffer, Trina Durham.

 

"From what I understand from our membership, this is
one of the best guild halls in known space," Trina responded.
"Everyone wants to base out of here."

 

When they'd first sat down with Trina in the lobby, she and
Sami had started chatting immediately. It was obvious that Trina had been
chosen as a guild greeter for her bubbly personality. That matched Sami
perfectly and the girls spent the better part of five minutes acting as if they
were long lost friends.

 

Because pilots also used yarmulke-like skullcaps to
interface with the ships computers, Trina eventually turned to him.

 

"So, are you an astrogator too?" she inquired with
a smile.

 

"No, not hardly. I," he said with some pride.
"Am a pilot."

 

"Oh…" she said with a little less enthusiasm.
"I'm sure the Pilots Guildhall is nice too."

 

Barry frowned.

 

He really shouldn't have been surprised by her response.
While piloting was a valuable skill, it was a skill that many people could
learn with the proper training, patience, and experience.

 

Astrogation, on the other hand, required a innate talent
that was as rare as it was valuable. It was only natural that an astrogator
would be accorded more respect than a pilot.

 

That didn't mean that Barry had to like it, though.

 

Oblivious to having offered any unintentional insult, Trina
continued…

 

"When you register with our guild you will, of course,
have full guild privileges. Temporary accommodations are available in this
building for a very reasonable rate.

 

"Ah, most of them are single occupancy… There will of
course be an adjoining room for your arms man," she said while giving a
nod to Gossip. But is Barry your… Significant Other?"

 

Sami giggled.

 

"I'll take my own accommodations at the Pilots Guild,
thank you," Barry said with only a small amount of indignation in his
voice.

 

"Oh great," Trina said in that perky manner of
hers. "Now Sami, I understand you’re new to Asperia so the first thing we
want to do is determine if you need to go through recertification or if your
skills and experience are such that we can avoid all that."

 

"What does recertification entail?" Sami asked.

 

"We seldom have to mess with it. If we have ongoing
trade with the system your previous Guildhall was located in it's really just a
formality. If you're coming from some place outside the system, we just need to
wait until we can get a message to them and they can validate the history you
give us."

 

"I'm just curious, Trina." Barry butted in.
"If that didn't work out what would she need to go through?"

 

"Typically you would need to tag along with a certified
guild instructor when they take on a mission. They need to supervise you in
seventeen jumps, so it could be one long haul or several short-haul
missions."

 

Sami was dumbstruck.

 

"You'd need to pay your own way, of course. You'll also
need to pay the instructor's fee and cover any customs or visa fees at ports of
call."

 

"Trust me," Barry said. "Her skills are off
the chart."

 

Sami stared at him in astonishment. It was the first he'd
ever complemented her.

 

"Super!" Trina gushed. "I'd hate for you to
have to go through recertification; it's a long and expensive process."

 

"Sami, why don't I have you fill out your guild
registration and while it's being approved I can show you around to the spa,
the health club, the pool, and the restaurants?"

 

"You have a pool? On an orbital platform?" Barry
questioned.

 

"That's right, the only one. We're the Astrogators
Guild," she reiterated as if that explained everything.

 

She handed Sami a data pad as she stood up.

 

"I'll be back in a few minutes to collect this and then
we can start our tour," she said with a smile.

 

Once she'd left, Sami spent a few moments consoling Barry's
ego. Then she turned her attention to the questionnaire…

 

"They want a ten year work history. They want to know
where I trained in astrogation and they want a reference from an officer on
every ship I've served on. They want to know what my previous guild affiliation
was… Barry, if it even still exists I’m
persona non-grata
there!”

 

"Calm down. It shouldn't be too much of a
problem," said Barry. "I'm sure that Argentine can fix you up with
something."

 

"I don’t know," she mused. "It says here that
these are the
minimal
requirements, and… If it were any other guild…

 

"Barry, you know that astrogators keep better traveling
records than anyone. This guild is going to know about the People's Republic of
Chezden. We haven’t traveled
that
far… If I lie on this application,
they're going to figure it out.

 

"I'm not sure that even Argentine’s superpowers can fix
this…"

 

Barry, assuming she was being rhetorical, didn't say anything.

 

Meanwhile, Sami placed the tablet on the small table in
front of them and stood up to leave…

 

 

ΔΔΔ

 

 

"The ore
has already been transferred dockside. This is the holding Bay number and I
have the transfer authorization codes," the chief said.

 

"Very good," said the banker. "Just squirt us
the codes and give us a biometric sample, and the transfer will be
complete."

 

The chief exchanged glances with Rory.

 

Noticing his confusion the banker continued, "Just
insert your finger in that machine there."

 

Still waiting for his finger to be pricked he was surprised
when the banker said, "Okay, all done! Now, with your permission, I'd like
to discuss the different types of accounts you can choose from to hold your
funds."

 

"No offense, but I'd really prefer to go over that
later. Right now we need to withdraw some local credits and get settled in. Can
you just put our credits in a standard account until tomorrow? We can figure
out the details then…"

 

"Of course!" the banker said with a smile.
"The transfer is complete. Congratulations gentlemen! You are now a
depositing member of the First Mercantile Bank and Trust."

 

"And now, if we could collect some of our
credits?"

 

"Of course. Let me show you how to go about it. First,
we simply file an electronic withdrawal request…”

 

The banker’s brow furrowed…

 

"Hmm, that's interesting."

 

After a moment of silence the chief asked, "
What's
interesting?"

 

"I've seldom seen this," he said, this time
without a smile. "It appears that your account has been frozen."

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