PortalNet Liaison, Vancouver, Contract Day 17
Carl Volcker, Point Negotiator for the Tsunami Contract, read the email from Tommygun with an air of mild interest, which he had perfected as a hostage negotiator all over the world. That was Triple A ball, which had brought him him here, to play in the bigs.
Murphy had just invited himself to the party. The locals didn’t see it, so I have an edge to work with. Hit them with the news, three beat pause to let them soak it up, then lead with, “Well, we need some things to do this for you.”
He would have liked to go back to the locals for the data on the methane layers, but Tommygun was a step ahead of him there, so it was not happening. One of the many ways Mister Jamie had set the tone for the Company was that the final call came from the Chief of Surface Ops, the MFWIC on the job, with her hand on the schedule and the responsibility for getting it done.
He bashed off an email to her, to see if she could collect what was needed with what she had in-system. Her lack of mention on that option could mean anything. He didn’t have a good handle on her yet, but she was a Contract veteran and Mister Jamie didn’t promote people for auld lang syne.
Negotiating by email sucks. I need to be able to look her in the eye. He got back to business. Assume the answer is ‘Hell, no!’
He pulled out his Risk Enterprises sat phone. Then we call in the gunslingers.
It was answered on the first ring. “Galactic Survey Operations, Dispatch.”
“Carl Volcker. Point Negotiator, Tsunami Contract.” Carl was careful not to let the elation he still felt at being able to say that into his voice.
“What can we do for you?” The woman on the other end didn’t talk quite as fast as Tommygun, but there wasn’t much in it.
“I’ve got a Variance on the Tsunami Contract. The work crew just found a gas pocket the locals never told them about. They don’t know how big it is, or whether there are others. The CSO isn’t going to sign off on doing the shots without good data, and the worst case is a Violation, causing the disaster we’re supposed to prevent. Can you divert someone?”
“What’s the Contract?” she asked.
“The area of interest is approximately 300 km by 16 km by 2 km deep. It’s basically mud with methane pockets, and we need to know how many and where. High resolution to support modelling the shot effects,” Carl said.
There was a brief rattle of computer keys. “Jonas Stone is inbound from a survey Contract. We could divert her, but it would not come cheap. She’d need a resupply in-system, fuel and life support, plus the transit fees. The Entity would have to sign off. Terms on that, above my pay grade, but she doesn’t leave loot behind.”
Negotiating with a pirate crew. Well, I’ve done it before. “Copy. Pull together a proposal, please. My position is that the Contracting Entity dropped the ball and if we’re going to pick it up, they’re going to pay the piper.”
“Copy. Take a few hours. The decimal points may move around some,” she said.
“No sweat. We’re not a charitable organisation, either.” Carl ended the call.
The email from Tommygun came in half an hour later. It was indeed “Hell, no.” with numbers and facts to support it.
Hadden Private Island, Tsunami Contract Day 18
The bikini-clad woman laying on the beach chair opened her eyes, and reached out her manicured hand for the phone, pausing to admire the diamond ring on her ring finger and enjoy what it meant. “Gunslinger.”
This had better be important. Ashley Hanson, Entity of Galactic Surveys, didn’t get a lot of down time, and being newly engaged she considered herself entitled to some beach time with her fiance Jamie Cartwell, and time to consider such serious questions as hyphenated Cartwell-Hanson vs. Hanson-Cartwell, or the traditional Mrs. Cartwell, with or without maiden name for professional purposes.
“Ma’am, this is a Variance on the Tsunami Contract.” The Head of GS Operations paused for a moment.
“I’m aware.” It wasn’t a rebuke, just letting him know he could skip the details of the baseline Contract, and go straight to the current situation. Maintaining situational awareness was a skill she had been taught in several hard schools from masters at it, and the Entity of Galactic Surveys had a situation which generated planetary scale crises from time to time.
“They have a potentially catastrophic situation, could go as high as Violation if not handled correctly.” He gave her a rapid-fire briefing on the situation.
Ashley took a sip of her Mai Tai, considering for a moment. She had no objection to being a team player, and this was certainly a problem. She didn’t leave loot behind, either. “We sub-contract to Master Blasters, cost-plus contract, 5% over cost, that low because it’s in the family. You have signing authority.”
“Copy all, ma’am.”
SS Jonas Stone, Inbound for Portal, Tsunami Contract Day 19
Captain Preston J. Beall reached out to key the reply to the intercom from the Watch Officer. “Captain.”
“Sir, we have an Operational Immediate flag for WRAITH, from GS Ops.” The Watch Officer’s manner combined interest and apprehension under the cool professionalism. Her trace of French accent was slightly more pronounced.
Preston was already wide awake and ready to deal with whatever the Watch Officer’s report might betoken, because it was one of a Captain’s baseline skills. His interest level kicked up, and he felt the same mixture as was in the Watch Officer’s voice, muted by greater experience.
Preston rolled out of his bunk and logged on to his WRAITH terminal. He took his time reading through the Contract requirements, compiling a mental To-Do list as he did so.
Eyes still on the screen, he hit the intercom to the bridge without looking. “Watch Officer, shake the XO and the Cox’n. We are diverted to a Variance. Tsunami. We will UNREP there, have them get the consist for the resupply together.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” She sounded disappointed.
Preston chuckled. “The wines will be a little older when we see home again, Pascale.”
“Oui, Capitane.” She ended the call.
Preston took a second look at the size of the job, calling up the specs of the ground penetrating radar to double-check his memory. Jonas Stone mounted the Mark II version of the radar Emporium had taken to Sanctuary, more powerful, more precise and able to reach deeper. The data would have to be crunched on board and the result sent Earthside, and the other data set that never went through the PortalNet would take longer to get to the Entity Intelligence Unit.
All of which, he was certain, had been factored into the Operation Order by a razor sharp mind which had been mentored in the art of command by the same master who had taught Preston, the namesake of his ship.
The Captains of the days of sail had been absolute monarchs on the deck of their ships, and with that had gone absolute responsibility for the ship and her crew. Light speed communications and increasing logistics requirements had eroded both of those absolutes, to the point where he had never gone to sea in a USN submarine without a book-length set of orders governing his mission in minute detail.
Starship command for Galactic Surveys was back to the future with a vengeance. Ashley Hanson picked Captains she could trust absolutely, and trusted them absolutely to do the mission whatever it took. They got what they needed to do the mission, if it was humanly and physically possible to get it for them. Best job in the universe. A tall ship, a star to steer her by, and worlds to save.
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