“Am I wrong or is this the oddest mix of modern and ancient?” I ask the five-person crew of the freighter.

  “Ma’am, that is an apt description. This hull is of an alien design, with much more modern Human engineering.” A lean, stately man a half head taller than me states.

  “Are you the Captain of this barge? I’m Kimber Novarro. Owner of Pulsar Freight.”

  “Ah, no Miss Novarro, I am your pilot. We were manned minimally for the transit to Astoria. I would like to onboard a captain and a chief engineer before we begin our route.”

  “From my notes, you’ll pick up your engineer in the Hades system, and your Captain is due for our meeting in minutes.” Gods, I hate being in work-mode voice. Makes me feel like a heartless ass.

  When we convene, since the captain isn’t here, I sit at the end of the Wardroom table. “Ladies and gents, there have been a lot of hands getting this ship to Astoria, I’m here to make sure that one set of hands manage from here on out. First, when we pick up Garth Farnsworth? Alright, his first prio will be safety and stock. I need to know what this bitch needs to shore up complications. Ops slash Supply, since your mission is the whole mission, I need you hot on any timeframes of expiration we come against ever. Whether it’s three months, or twenty years, I don’t want to lose a credit because we didn’t use a spreadsheet.” He nods at me, and before I can continue, a crisp and clean woman in near-military dress walks in the room.

  “It is customary to stand when the Captain enters.” She says with a stony, beige tone.

  “It is also standard to be on time when the owners are present. Captain, Nicole Owens, thank you for joining us.” I turn back to the table, still sitting in the captain’s chair. “How’s the jump rig?”

  “Ma’am, it’s old. First gen aether warp. Takes a lot of power.”

  “Shit, I’ll see if I can get a magitechnician on short notice, but odds are, we’ll need to pull into Ganymede on the way back.”

  “Miss Novarro, I am a qualified Ship Engineer, and the warp system is not difficult to maintain, just power hungry.” The Captain says.

  “Perfect. Then I’ll need an analysis on the efficacy of these systems to maintain a 6 week or less transit time between Astoria and Sol.” I assert, knowing that it will be difficult for these drives to make it there. We have the aether capacity and the collectors, it’s just the warp array is shit.

  “While we have an engineer coming aboard in the Hades system, it should also be noted that this ship was certified by Ganymede Shipyard, and to my knowledge they have never certified a ship that did not perform at their ratings or better.” Nicole added.

  I nod, knowing that David was in fact the best ship manufacturer in the Empire. “Okay, if we’re not that worried about its space worthiness, let’s talk schedule and filling the bays up. This first trip is scheduled for less than half of our capacity. If we wait a week to leave, I have another thirty tons to Asphodel. On the way back, I can probably arrange another hundred tons from Earth to Asphodel. I need these kinds of opportunities on your minds. Anything we can cajole, convince, or even coerce and not exceed an 8-week in transit and 3-week on station, anything we can do to fill the hold with heavy, long-period cargo the better.

  The supply man taps a few screens and replies. “Prioritizing the largest shipment timeframes, 6-weeks and ten days should be our target for transit and on-station. Our shuttles can transfer up to twenty tons if it’s dense, but if we’re talking vegetable matter, closer to two tons, and that’s per half hour to hour depending on what orbit we’re in.”

  “We have our targets, folks,” Nicole steps in. “This meeting is for concerns for fully manning, and supporting our recurring mission. To that end, miss Novarro, do we have a corporate structure? Or are we dealing with your assistant for the time being?”

  Apparently my new freighter captain caught the vibe of my business straight away. “Right now, Patience is your girl. We’ll be setting up offices on Atropos and Moiriax within a few months. I picked there, because if we grow, the gas Giants in Moiriax are the only syphon sources that could support a whole fleet of aether scavenging ships. The system already has an Imperial Writ for syphoning due to the corundum businesses on Clotho, so I want to lean into that.”

  “Curious, will you have business in that system? Or is it purely energy logistics?” the Captain asks.

  “I’m gearing up to a business that will need five thousand bushels of fruit delivered per annum.”

  “You built a transportation company to supply yourself?” The logistician asks.

  “Yes and no. I have business associates that need heavy shipping options to keep costs down. I have the means for a light freighter, and I want to have at least three running to put departure times around once a month. But running them half empty is a waste, yadda yadda. You get the idea.” I wave a hand in dismissal of the ‘future plans’ questions for the time being. “Any questions for the here and now?”

  “Our crystal compliment isn’t enough for a single syphoning stop, and we won’t be able to do that without significant delays on a larger scale.” The logistician asks.

  “I have ideas for a charging orbital for Septune and Supanus. Four-hour load and swap, max. At least a year and another freighter away, I’m afraid.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  I look around the room and seeing no more questions, I excuse myself. Exiting the mess space slash meeting room, I hear footsteps behind me.

  “Miss Novarro, may I take an hour of your time?” Nicole Owens asks.

  “I have a few hours blocked for this.” I turn and take a good look at the officer that was hired for me. She’s tall, 1.8m or there abouts, tight bun on her dirty blond hair, and a musculature that could be described as whip-like and lean. She’s wearing coveralls with no apparent affinity, and heavy boots.

  “To my quarters then? I admit I have made a poor first impression and I wish to . . . add a competing image.”

  I smirk at that: not an apology, but a polite request for a second chance. “Lead the way, Captain.”

  I see that my recognition of her authority is important for her, more than what I would have expected for a pure monetary arrangement. Had Penny made a deal to get her here? In any case, we walk a few minutes to the front of the ship and she opens the room to her quarters.

  It’s a modest space, a tight one-room apartment with a lavatory. The desk is a dining table with a bed on the opposite wall. This is a far cry from the space fantasy ideas that I’ve been tackling with my mind.

  “Do you drink, Miss Novarro?”

  “If we share a drink, you’re calling me Kimber and I’m calling you Nicole.”

  “If we’re drinking, I prefer Nikki.”

  “So be it.” I smirk and pull a flask from my inventory as she pulls a bottle from her desk. “Oh! Mine’s a barleywine with fruity notes.”

  “Mine is an Astorian brandy. Pour two each and share?” Nikki proposes hopefully.

  I smirk, “Deal. I’m curious as to the fruit involved.”

  “Galaxy fruit. This brandy was a gift from the Commodore that spared my commission.”

  “And mine is an alchemical mid-point for several potions!” I swap readily and she stares at me as though I’ve poisoned her. “Relax, it’s in my flask, so I clearly drink it.” I say, taking a sip before screwing the top up and putting it back in my storage container.

  When she takes the barest of sips, she makes a happy grunt and smacks her lips in savoring the concoction. I smile and taste the brandy where a zip of energy rushes from my stomach to my brain and pops with little champagne sparkles.

  “This is very nice brandy. Damn. I was prepared to be sassy, but this is a fine peace offering! It won’t save you from me asking what a Naval Officer is doing as a freighter Captain.”

  “Heh, I though not.” She breathes deep and sighs. “I got Court Martialed for Mutiny and Insubordination.”

  “Isn’t that redundant? Mutiny is the latter with a slap of betrayal? Since you offered the explanation, I’ll hear you out.” Despite the unpleasant feeling in my stomach.

  “Yeah. It’s a remnant of the old legal system: Throwing a bunch of accusations and seeing what sticks. I uh, have a history of voicing my opinions and with my last skipper, a fast frigate CO, I was vocal about my disagreement with his standing orders to save bullets and food at the expense of fuel and repair costs when it came to engaging pirates.”

  “Different pots of money I assume?”

  She nods and continues. “See, we were in a Prospect Patrol Zone. Pirate encounters on the reg. As XO, my crew was getting hurt with his policies, and one day we got a red alert, double black. We jumped to the edge of a pirate fleet engagement at the behest of a distress call. Because of his practices, we had plenty of a new product called ‘welding tape’, so I secured his door to the bulkhead and assumed command.” She took a long sip of my barleywine and smacked her lips again.

  “I spent two thirds of our munitions and we still had hull damage and 15% shields by the end of the engagement. Saved thirty civvies and took out five pirate vessels. I left the CO in his cabin until we reported back to Astoria three days later.”

  I can’t help but chuckle at that. “The fact that your CO could be caught that late into a red alert is telling. Though I appreciate the faith you both have in my product.”

  “Waaait. You made the welding tape?” I nod. “And you have a freight business, and a friend high enough in the government for an officer to get placed on a leave of absence in your care . . . who the hell are you?”

  I get a full belly laugh at that. The answer is so varied I don’t know how to frame it. “Let’s see. I’m one of maybe a dozen Alchemists on Earth, I invented the formula that Merc Arms uses for gunpowder, and I was recently told that I am the leading candidate for the Justicar role in the new justice system the Empress revealed at the opening ceremony of the Founders’ Festival.”

  “Ahh, Merc Arms. Leading munitions supplier to the Empire. Ties with the Naval Shipyard at Ganymede, and if rumors are true, major shareholder on every Astorian corporation under the Empress’ rule. You breathe truly verified air do you not? Should I call you Lady Novarro?”

  “If you want me to make a lunar outpost in the Kepler system just for you, absolutely. Otherwise, Kimber is fine. And yeah, getting Miss Mercer interested in my gunpowder changed my life in countless ways, but I had to put the work in like anyone else. My windfalls since then feel more than lucky, but lets leave that discussion until we’re friends.”

  “Think that’s likely? Burgeoning Magnate to disgraced Lieutenant?” She plays with her drink and stares at the table while she asks.

  “Gods, you pout very responsibly and it’s maddening. Yes. I do think it possible, because not every disgraced officer gets a punishment invented for them. Leave of absence to a civilian company is a new thing. And if it counts for your time in service, then you have a guardian Pixie on your shoulder.” The wide-eyed look when she meets my eyes tell me my guess is right. I chuckle at the situation. “Seems like the powers that be are meddling in my relationships again. Last time this happened I ended up with a fiancé.”

  Woman straight up flushes with embarrassment “I. I don’t think that . . . I”

  My mirth is much less restrained this time. “Relax Nikki, you’re confident, capable, and not hard to look at, but I am very engaged, and quite happy. However, good to see that I have another queer tolerant person on my payroll.”

  “Fucking shit. Why!? I swear to all that is Imperial I almost died just then!” She stands then, draining my barleywine and coming over with both glasses for a refill. She sits next to me on the couch, not touching, but close. “Alright, new friend. You are gay, intimidating, taken, and rife for friend material. Tell me, what does it take to get into your good graces?”

  My brows squinch of their own volition as I consider this unexpected approach. After a brief consideration, I conclude that the method that I made friends with Zia should suffice. “I’ll trade you an embarrassing story, and then we’re friends. You message me once a week or I sass you until you fix your shit.”

  “Oh no! A friend! Mercy, oh tormentor!”

  She told me of a time that she fell for one of her instructors and found out that he was a carouser with several of her friends, and I told her of the time I convinced the owner of Merc Arms that her flirty vibes were motherly vibes when I vomited in her shuttle.