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  “Three sources?” Mr. Dashi shook his head. “That’s not possible. I only asked you about this, what, a day ago? It takes months or years to develop sources this detailed. I know, I used to have your job.”

  “Yes, sir, but I didn’t so much develop sources as use commerce. I bought internal reports off GG staff.”

  “Which ones?”

  “All of them.”

  “What? All the staff? Or all the reports?

  “Both, sir.”

  “How?”

  “Well, you see, sir, you did say it was urgent.”

  “Yes?”

  “So, I changed a big bucket of the budget to ready cash, and I hopped a shuttle to Galactic Growing main station.”

  “You went to their main station?”

  “I did, sir. I went down to their cafe at lunch, and I stopped at every table.”

  “And did what? Ate thirteen red-green-blue trays till you were too bloated to move?”

  “No, sir. I told everybody that I was a spy and that I wanted to buy GG corporate secrets. I said I would pay well, and I would be at the casino next and gave them a card with my contact info.”

  “You told them you were a spy? You gave them a card?” Jose could tell Mr. Dashi was surprised. It was the first time he hadn’t smiled when talking to him.

  “Yes, sir. It’s a very nice card. Stylish, I think. Would you like one?”

  “No, thank you. Wait, yes. No, never mind. You told them you were a spy and that you would pay them to spy on their employer.”

  “Yes, sir. The traditional way—meeting them quietly, developing things—would take too long. So, I just told everybody where to find me and that I was buying, and I left a lot of those cards around. The only thing I told them was they had only two hours to contact me, that way they wouldn’t have time to fake a report.”

  “You got reports?”

  “Yes, sir. One hundred and forty-seven.”

  “Jose, now they know we’re looking into their mining production.”

  “No, sir, they don’t. I didn’t specify what type of reports I was looking for, and I bought pretty much everything that people offered me. Thirteen of them were related to mining. And they were from several different departments so I was able to crosscheck the information. I’m very confident of my numbers. I also know a great deal about their childcare policies.”

  Mr. Dashi shook his head. It wasn’t the traditional way of recruiting spies, but he couldn’t argue with the results.

  Jose continued. “They already know we spy on them, sir. And I didn’t get anything really secret—nothing like strategy or expansion plans, just mundane shipping and production reports. But there were so many of them, I was able to figure a lot out.”

  Jose began to go over the numbers in more details. The gist of it was that GG planned to make up for their shortfall by buying platinum group metals on the market until their next mine went into production. They didn’t have a single source for the metals. Instead, they had sent their trading ships on routes that covered a lot of marginal stations. These stations were technically affiliated with GG but only saw one or two ships a year, so they were forced to take care of themselves. Since GG only sent one ship a year, if the station wanted to buy or sell anything, they pretty much had to take the prices they were offered, when they were offered. Many of these stations stockpiled a year’s production at a time, ready to sell when the annual ship arrived.

  Dashi leaned back and steepled his hands in thought. Jose recognized Mr. Dashi’s deep thinking pose and didn’t say anything. Eventually, Dashi leaned forward.

  “Jose, we need a plan to get as many of these resources for TGI as we can in the next few months, before this shortage makes itself felt. As many as we can, even if we have to stockpile them. Cost is no object. They will be critical for Delta’s future prosperity. For TGI’s future prosperity as well.”

  “Yes, sir. I figured as much. I have a plan.”

  “Of course you do. Elaborate.”

  “We’ll send a fast trading ship on the same route that GG is taking and scoop up whatever is available. If we get there first, we can get several years’ worth of platinum group metals at a reasonable price.”

  “I’m not so worried about the price, but I am worried about the quantities.”

  “With the right ship, we can do that, sir. We just need something fast and with a long range. We’ll have to sacrifice cargo space for reaction mass and supplies.”

  “Will that cause us a problem in storage?”

  “No, sir. We’re talking thousands of kilograms, not tens of thousands. The important stuff will mass pretty low. You could probably put all of the rare earths in a few big transit cases.”

  “Good. We need as much as possible.”

  “I’m a little confused about that, sir. May I ask why we need so much?”

  “Ruthenium is used to make a variety of things, among them grids for the ion thrusters.”

  “Yes, sir. So, when there’s a shortage of ruthenium we can corner the market and sell it to the other corps. Good plan, sir.

  Dashi shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think we’ll do that. I don’t think we’ll sell any at all. We’re going to keep the metals for ourselves, for our own repairs. Thrusters are only supposed to last so long, and we’ve already exceeded their designed lifetime. They have started failing in greater numbers. We’re going to need those metals for more and more repairs.”

  “Can’t we make new thrusters, sir?”

  “We haven’t had that capacity since the abandonment. We can refurbish some of our current thrusters, but not all of them. I’d say less than fifty percent. Some are worn beyond repair. And we simply lack the industrial capacity to build new ones. Wrong type of 3D printers.”

  Jose was very smart, otherwise he wouldn’t be Dashi’s assistant. He caught on fast. “So, an entire ship could be immobilized by the lack of thruster grids, which means it isn’t available to pick up other resources, which means the remaining ships have to do double duty, which means their thrusters will wear out faster…”

  Dashi nodded. “Yes, and not just the thrusters, there will be more wear on other ship systems, like the fusion plants, and then things will cascade. It may already be happening. We’ve used up a lot of the capital goods that were left here after the abandonment. We can’t keep going the way we’ve been. We’ll have to settle at a new equilibrium.”

  “Sir, if we pick up those extra metals, GG won’t be very happy with us. There will be consequences.”

  “Well, I don’t want to start a corporate war. Everybody would lose then. But it will be better if one central entity has the capability to allocate the necessary resources.”

  “One central entity meaning TGI, sir?”

  “Of course. Have you picked a ship?”

  Jose hesitated. “Yes sir. I have one we can hire, its belongs to one of the allied corps, It’s a subsidized far trader, and it would be perfect for this type of work. It comes with a full crew, and we even have some TGI contractors onboard. The problem is which contractors.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Bassi Vidal and his crew sir.”

  “Oh, them. Have we done anything about the skimming?”

  “Not yet. It’s on the list sir.”

  “We assume a little graft in those positions, but he has become too greedy. I don’t recall him being a trading type of person, either.”

  “Gunnery, sir. “

  “So we need to augment things. Let me think about that. Next topic.”

  “Yes, sir. We have some news about Jake Stewart.”

  “Yes?”

  “He’s in jail, sir.”

  “What for?”

  “Starting a fight in a bar.”

  “He started a fight? Did he win?”

  “Not hardly. He was beaten up. The bartender fingered him for starting it.”

  “Any charges for damage?”

  “Nope. He got beat up pretty quickly without breakin
g anything.”

  “That’s a skill of sorts, I suppose.”

  Jose tapped his comm and paged through some reports.

  “The bartender reported to the militia that he’d been drinking pretty heavily, made a scene, insulted a group of four men, and picked a fight with them. They beat him like a drum, then the bartender got involved and zapped one of them. That one got hurt pretty badly, he’s still in the hospital, but the others got out before the militia patrol arrived.”

  “Did the patrol take issue with that?”

  “No, they figure the bartender was within his rights and the others had bolted. And Jake was too busy being beaten up, so they aren’t charging him.”

  “So, if the men weren’t around to complain, then what’s the charge?”

  “Drunk in public. We could bail him out.” Jose looked at Dashi and cocked his head.

  “Don’t. Did Doucette get what we asked for?”

  “Good pictures, sir. He and his team followed the two shooters back to their lodging. They can take them out anytime.”

  “Good. Those are dangerous people. I want them off my station. Tell Doucette to arrange to grab them, and to do it where Colivar can see. That should show him how serious we are. No shooting, though. Jose, how long till they let Jake Stewart go?”

  “Two days at the most, a day if they need the space.”

  “I see,” said Dashi. He flexed his steepled fingers again. He spun his chair around to face the view port. Jose was silent while Dashi pondered“

  “Jose, hire that ship”

  “Yes, sir. And the crew?”

  “Keep the regular crew, but fire the contractors that report to Vidal. Then tell Vidal to expect a militia section shortly.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll have to buy those positions in the Militia.”

  “Do it.”

  “Vidal will be unhappy.”

  “I find I can bear his unhappiness with equanimity,” Dashi said. “Call our militia friend and tell him we are very interested in his new program, ‘militia service in lieu of prosecution.’ We’re so interested that we want to subsidize the initial training run. Find out what it will cost to put a test section of three people through.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jose made more notes on his pad.

  “The test section should be ready to go this week.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keep Jake Stewart in jail.”

  “Sir? How?”

  “Put some pressure on that bartender. Tell him somebody is going to get charged if that man in the hospital dies. Could be him. Could be somebody else. See if he’ll change his story.”

  “Change his story to implicate Jake?”

  “Yes. And get me the militia reports for the last week.

  “Yes, sir. Ah, the bar charged three hundred credits for schnapps onto Jake’s credit chip. Should we challenge that?”

  “Schnapps? Vile stuff. Nope. Pay it and then take it out of Jake’s pay.”

  “He’s not fired?”

  “Of course not. Keep him on the payroll, just leave him in jail for now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jose went and opened the door but paused before leaving.

  “Sir, that bar is well known for fleecing new arrivals, at least to station people.”

  “Yes, but Jake wasn’t a station person, was he? He wouldn’t know.”

  “Did you know what would happen, sir? The fight?”

  “I didn’t know anything, Jose,” Mr. Dashi said. But then he smiled. “But I do remember the day I got my first corporate credit chip, Jose. Good times.”

  ***

  Jake came to consciousness slowly. His mouth was dry, and he needed to use the bathroom. He sat up quickly, which was a mistake. His head began to spin and he felt his stomach revolt. He rolled over and fell to the floor with a thud.

  His side hurt a lot. So did his stomach. He saw a toilet not far away. He crawled toward it as his stomach spasmed. If he could just get to the bowl…

  Nope, he couldn’t make it. He tried to roll onto his face so he wouldn’t spew on himself, but the pain forced him back onto his side. It felt like his entire stomach erupted through his throat and splashed down his shirt and onto the floor. He heaved again and again, till only a clear fluid dribbled out. Slowly, he managed to pull himself onto the toilet for the last few heaves, but then slouched back onto the floor. His stomach felt better, but his ribs and fingers felt worse. And he was having trouble seeing. Very, very carefully he rolled onto his side, trying not to move any of his chest muscles, until his cheek rested against the cold floor. That floor was the best thing Jake had ever felt. So cool, so relaxing. He smiled and drifted off to sleep.

  Sometime later, he couldn’t tell how long because his comm was gone, a beeping sound woke him up. The built-in comm screen by the door was flashing. He poked at it a bit and got a list. Disturbing the peace. Felony assault. Anti-social behavior. Causing bodily harm. Discharging a weapon.

  Jake didn’t remember a weapon, but the rest sounded right. He turned toward the mirror. His eyes were black and blue, and his nose looked crooked. The side of his face was covered with dried vomit, as was most of his shirt. His hair was matted with it. He took a deep breath, which was a mistake because his nose was plugged as well, and the smell caused him to gag again. This time he made it over the sink before spewing out all the water. He dropped to the ground, grunting as the sharp pain in his hands and his ribs caused him to drop onto his back. He hadn’t quire realized where he had puked before, but he knew now, because it formed a pile in the middle of his back.

  He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

  “How did your first day at work go, Jake?” he said out loud.

  ***

  Jake had crawled onto the bed and lay still. He tried not to move. If it was possible to fail more spectacularly on his first job, he didn’t know how. He’d never been that drunk in his life before. He remembered the fight, a bit. He clearly hadn’t won. Why had he started a fight? Why had he drunk so much? What was wrong with him? He had an uncle who had been the station drunk. He’d ended up losing his arm in a mining accident. After that he’d spent all his time cleaning the corridors and drinking all the cleaning solution he could steal until he died in his sleep a few years back. Was he going to end up like his uncle? He was already in jail. Would they keep him here? He’d be stuck in jail for a long, long time. TGI would fire him, of course. And then what? He’d be on station with no job. He’d have to become an itinerant crewman, and that hadn’t worked out well for him before.

  Well, nothing to do but wait and take his medicine.

  His comm screen beeped. Jake lookup over. Incoming message. He sat up, very slowly, and pressed the button.

  It was Jose.

  “Hello, Jake.”

  Jake just nodded. He couldn’t talk.

  “The charges against you are serious. You hurt one of those men badly. He’s still in the hospital.”

  “Oh.”

  “TGI is going to have to cover the damage. Did you at least get the info chip?”

  Jake tried to speak, but he couldn’t. He looked down and shook his head.

  “I figured.” Jose paused and didn’t say anything. Jake gulped in air and managed to choke out, “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s it? You’re sorry?”

  Jake just nodded. He couldn’t look Jose in the eye.

  “Not enough, Jake. Not nearly enough. Mr. Dashi is dropping you from the special program. You’re out.”

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Jake thought. He managed a nod.

  “There is the matter of the money you owe TGI, as well as the damages and charges against you,” Jose said. “Mr. Dashi still feels some responsibility for you. So, rather than leaving you in jail, he’s pulled some strings and got you into the new indentured service program the Militia is offering. You’re going to stay in the Militia until you work off your jail sentence. They’ll pick you up tomorrow to begin your training. Do you understand?”


  Jake nodded but didn’t speak.

  “If you fail the militia training you are going to go to jail. Mr. Dashi says there is a possibility that you might be sent south. Don’t fail the training, Jake.”

  Jake nodded again.

  Jose reached forward to turn off his screen but stopped. “One more thing, Jake.”

  Jake nodded a third time.

  “You have vomit in your hair. You should clean that up.” The screen went black.

  ***

  Less than a week later, Jake stood looking at the dazed man on the deck. Zeke wasn’t knocked out, only stunned. Sergeant Russell hauled him to his feet, shook him a bit, and gave him some water. Then he started them all running around the gym. Zeke and Suzanne had never been in zero G before, but they didn’t take long to figure out how to move. At first, they slammed into the corners and tripped trying to slow down, but after only a few circuits of the gym they emulated Jake by bouncing off the walls and hopping around the corners and changed from bounding leaps to a sliding shuffle.

  Once they reached a level of basic confidence, Sergeant Russel yelled, “Follow me,” and headed out of the gym. For the next hour they swarmed around the station, up and down ladders, from high gravity to low, from the core to the rim. Jake didn’t feel tired. The sergeant clearly wanted to teach them to move in variable gravity not to build physical fitness. Eventually, they returned to the gym.

  “Line up,” bellowed Sergeant Russell. “Right here.” He pointed. “All right, you maggots. Listen up. For the next week you’re going to learn basic militia space skills. Low gravity and zero-G movement. Skin suit training. Basic firefighting. Hand to hand combat. Shotgun, revolver, and rifle training. And boarding operations.” He paused.

  “Sergeant, why are there only three of us?” asked Suzanne.

  “Did I say you could ask questions? I did not.” Sergeant Russel screamed.

  Suzanne was undeterred. “It is a good question, Sergeant. Normally there are more of us. Is this not true?”

  The sergeant rounded on Suzanne, took a huge breath, and began to open his mouth. Then he stopped, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “I’m too old for this shit,” he muttered. “Yes, that’s true,” he said in a normal voice. “We do one class a month for fifty people. But you three are some sort of special deal. Only the three of you, and only for a week. Then you report to your ship.”