Tales from the Service: The Computer’s Move

2952-04-03 – Tales from the Service: The Computer’s Move 

Captain Hari Moser waited until his subordinates had all filed out of Brighton Blue’s wardroom before moving from his chair at the head of the table. A viewpanel to one side gave a spectacular, if electronically enhanced, view of the binary planet which Blue had taken an orbit around; in normal light the faint haze of a nearby planetary nebula would never have been visible in the background. 

When everyone had left, Hari drummed his fingers on the table. “Bridgit, give me that map again.” 

The holo-display in the center of the wardroom table winked on, and the motes of light representing the nearest few dozen stars appeared. Roughly a third of them glowed with a faint red halo, and the one in the middle pulsed with a steady blue. Several dotted lines joined this central star to some of its red neighbors, each appearing in a different color. 

“Do you need labels, Captain?” Bridgit, the voice of the ship’s main computer, was as patient as always. 

“No.” Hari leaned forward. The local astrography was familiar enough to him that he didn’t need to see the catalog numbers of stars to recognize them. “You have already run the odds?” 

“Several minutes ago, because there was a significant probability that you would ask for them.” Bridgit added a tiny number to each of the dotted lines. “Based on current intel, the enemy force is most likely to be at G9934614, but that’s still only a twenty-nine percent chance.” 

Hari nodded. His orders were simple – Blue and its formation were to probe for the enemy fleet believed to be operating in the area, and to report its strength when encountered. Their orders also said to exploit opportunities to attack exposed targets, but those opportunities seemed rather unlikely; a lone light cruiser supported by three destroyers and a handful of frigates would never be able to stand up to a force of Incarnation warships; they would have their hands full with just one of the big enemy cruisers. 

The problem with searching for the enemy by probabilities and intel was that the enemy would expect him – and the other scout formation commanders – to do just that. He could be ordering his spacers into a trap – or into a misinformation-baited jaunt through a half-dozen empty star systems while the enemy force, un-contacted, set up for a major assault on Sagittarius Gate. 

There would be those among his officers who would be content to go on this fruitless jaunt, of course. Blue had been on more-or-less-continuous Seventh Fleet scouting operations for seven months, and had been in the service yard at Sagittarius Gate only three weeks at the end of a previous stint of eleven months on operation. Most of the officers and crew were showing signs of fatigue, but Hari was more worried about those that weren’t. Those spacers might seem fine, but some of them would crack when the strain became too much, and there was no telling when that would be for each individual. 

“If I may ask, Captain, what is wrong?” 

“Just trying to out-think Nate.” Hari scowled. Bridgit had been something of a talkative computer program ever since he’d been on board, more like the automated concierge software of a civilian liner than the automation system of a vessel of war, but after the last software update she’d gotten particularly nosy. Most likely, some egghead back in the Core had come up with a new psychoanalysis subroutine and waved charts in front of Admiralty clerks’ faces telling them that it would reduce officer stress by some certain figure. It was having something of the opposite effect on him. 

“Why do you need to? This seems like a pretty standard search mission to me.” Bridgit’s programmed likeness appeared in the holo-display at one-tenth size. Like most of the newer ships, the computer could project faint, ghostly holograms at any size anywhere within the crew spaces, but Bridgit’s coding seemed to prefer to show her avatar as a tiny sprite walking around within the ship’s various higher-fidelity displays rather than as a full-sized phantom. 

“They’ll have some idea we’re out here and where we’re coming from. They might be trying to hide, or they might be planning a post-jump bushwhack.” 

This sort of ambush was an incredibly remote prospect, of course; even if the enemy knew where an enemy intruder was coming from and had some idea when it would arrive, it would take ten or twenty ships spread out over a wide volume of space to have a reasonable chance of interception, and those ships would have to be too far apart to be mutually supporting. 

“The information on this map reflects your best chance to outsmart them lies at G9934614.” Bridgit’s tiny image waved a hand up and behind itself to the stars glittering above the table. “Shall I convey the navigation order to the helm?” 

Hari shook his head firmly. “No. If you attempt to pressure me into giving orders again, I will have the techs disable you.” He didn’t know why he was threatening a computer program; Bridgit could learn in a sense, but she wasn’t a person who could feel shame at her mistake, like one of the officers. 

“No pressure was intended Captain.” Bridgit’s tiny likeness saluted sharply. “I cannot convey orders you do not give. Is there any other data I can obtain for you?” 

Hari frowned. Perhaps there was. “Can you process hypothetical scenarios?” 

“I can run simulations, sir. Is that what you mean?” 

“No.” Hari stood up and strode to the viewpanel.  

“Then I don’t understand the question. Perhaps if you attempted the query you have in mind, I could try to process it.” 

Hari cleared his throat. “If you were in charge of an Incarnation fleet and given the objective to deliver a raid in force at Sagittarius Gate with the least possible contact with Confederated scouts before the attack, what star system would you stage out of within this local area?” 

There was a long pause. Finally, Bridgit replied. “The Incarnation does not automate command of its fleet movements, Captain. You are asking me what I would do if, hypothetically, I were a person in that position, and I have no way to simulate or process the demands of personhood, which would be more decisive than any other variable.” 

Hari rolled his eyes. “So, you cannot process the query.” 

“Not as such, sir.” Bridgit sounded apologetic. “Perhaps you meant to ask what would be my choice of staging area if I were to take control of the opposition force in a simulation of our current mission?” 

Hari froze. That was a far better query, of course, but Bridgit should never have been able to guess it from what he’d asked. That leap sounded more like intuition than the normal educated-guess feedback loop that dominated the code of such software. 

Bridgit, after long moments of silence, tried again. “Perhaps you meant-” 

“I heard you.” Hari turned back toward the wardroom table. “And yes, I suppose that is what I meant.” 

“I would choose K7820841.” The doll-sized hologram waved toward the edge of the map, and a dim star blinked brightly. “It is an unexpected play, choosing a staging area so close to the target, far within my warships’ jump range, and it might permit some degree of surprise. Obviously, this is a high-risk play, but high-risk plays are what sim-games are for.” 

Hari nodded. “Thank you.” Bridgit was right – a particularly bold enemy commander could stage out of a dead, planet-less system that was theoretically within Sagittarius Gate’s outer defensive ring, hoping that no scout formations happened to stop by in the few weeks he needed to prepare his attack. As far as he knew, no Confederated ship had gone to K7820841 for several months; why would they? There weren’t even any exploitable metal asteroids there. Provided Nate didn’t need to do any field repairs, though, that was hardly a problem for him. Checking the system would be a matter of a day or less, plenty of time to receive new information from other scouts in case the enemy commander proved more risk-averse than Bridgit. 

“Bridgit, plot a jump to your star. Send orders up to the helm.” Hari knew he was probably crazy to take his next move from the computer. There was probably some very good reason the lonely K-type star would never have worked for the Incarnation attack staging area that Bridgit never would have considered. 

“Aye, Captain.” The computer’s avatar saluted and then vanished, followed shortly thereafter by the map. 

Though the actions of the scouting formations of Seventh Fleet are well covered by the vidcast programs, including our own flagship program, Captain Moser’s account of being led to an unorthodox decision by an unusually active computer assistant is stranger still because Brighton Blue made contact with the enemy precisely where the computer suggested. 

Obviously, the fleet logistics department is making changes to this software all the time; my understanding is that the system is updated drastically every time a ship returns to port. The illusion of intuition that Captain Moser describes here, which unsettled him some at the time and later in retrospect, is probably the result of some new top of the line communication routine; military grade assistant software can already read and interpret both tone and body language, even in recordings. 

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Tales from the Inbox: The Prodigy’s Interview

2952-03-19 – Tales from the Inbox: The Prodigy’s Interview 

Elliott Deadman slid into the chair opposite Sadek Sherburn, a look of nervous relief on his youthful face. “Well...” He stared hard at the elegant floral-patterned tablecloth for a long moment before continuing. “Jakeman’s not exactly bad at what he does. But I’m better.” 

“That’s a bold claim.” Sadek reached into the menu to order another round of fried mushrooms. “Especially since he’s got twenty years of experience you don’t.” 

“Oh, that he does, Mr. Sherburn.” Deadman nodded. “Being his shipmate for six months, I heard all his stories. Some of them twice over. But I won’t be so much trouble, and I’m a better tech. Especially on newer machinery.” 

Sadek smiled. “It’s easier to be a better tech on newer machinery, because it doesn’t break down as much.” 

“Sure, as long as you don’t think you’re smarter than the operator manual.” Deadman scowled. “From what he told me, I think Jakeman spent so long hitting cranky Navy atmospherics with a hammer until they stopped making funny noises that he tries to do that to everything.” He sighed. “The only reason I got a chance on DeMario was because they needed someone to read the manuals and do the regular maintenance that kept things from becoming his problem.” 

Sadek knew that this story was entirely unfalsifiable, of course. Deadman seemed earnest, but that was no guarantee of anything. “Did you?” 

“Most of the time.” The boy sighed. “The only things he ever got working again the same shift it broke were the common food-fabs. He does fix everything, eventually, but he never asks for help, and never consults the manual.” 

Sadek cringed, imagining Jakeman disassembling all the factory-new components aboard Traveler every time something failed due to lack of proper maintenance. “What about you? Could you fix things if they broke in a way the manual didn’t explain?” 

“I haven’t run into a breakdown I can’t fix yet.” Deadman straightened, his voice reflecting the pride he took in this statistic. "Those might take me a bit longer than they’d take someone like Jakeman, but the rest, I can do five times faster." 

Sadek’s mushrooms arrived, and he gestured to the plate. “Try one of these, kid. Oh, do you want a drink?” 

Deadman gingerly picked up one of the mushrooms, rolling it between his palms to let it cool. “Do they have ACF?” 

Sadek flicked his way through the menu until he spotted Ashkelon Cardamom Fizz in the specialty drinks section. He was passingly familiar with the drink, mostly from advertisements and product placement in holo-dramas; it was a sweet, spiced and carbonated beverage popular with the youth whose flavor came from a fruit grown on the world of Ashkelon and an Earth-native spice which took well to the soil on that world with little gene-tweaking. “ACF coming right up.” He jabbed the indicator twice. “Hells, I’ll try one too.” 

Deadman brightened. “Thanks, Mr. Sherburn.” He examined the fried mushroom in his hand for a moment before biting off a small piece and chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “This is a vegetable?” 

Sadek picked up one himself and waved it in the air for a moment to let it cool. “Technically mushrooms are fungi.” 

“Fungi like mold?” Deadman made a horrified expression, but gamely dropped the rest of the mushroom into his mouth and made a show of chewing and swallowing, clearly feeling wretched the whole time. “I guess they’re...” He hiccupped. “They’re all right.” 

“No edible fungi on your home-world eh?” Sadek smiled. “I suppose that would make it hard to stomach.” 

The attendant arrived with two bright orange bottles, which he unsealed and set down along with a pair of ice-filled glasses. 

Sadek gingerly sniffed the effervescent liquid within It smelled sweet, fruity, and slightly spicy, but nothing like the eye-watering odor of Jakeman’s meal. When he poured it into the glass, he was surprised to see that the orange bottle’s contents were a rather drab olive-green color; all the ACF advertisements he’d seen had featured people drinking directly from the bottle, and had used orange splashes of color to suggest that the drink itself was in fact orange. 

“Oh, yeah, it used to be orange.” Deadman shrugged and took a swig directly from his bottle. “It switched a couple years ago, just before I left home. Supposedly the coloring agent they used wasn’t all that safe.” 

Sadek shrugged and took a sip of the drink. It wasn’t quite as sweet as he was expecting, with a complex, tart, spicy flavor that reminded him of the spiced (and heavily spiked) punch he’d once had at a shipboard Emmanuel Feast celebration. “Hey, that’s not bad.” He took another sip. 

Deadman brightened. "Must be weird having it for the first time. Are you really considering me, sir?" 

Sadek shrugged. “Sure. No decisions today though.” He liked the kid, he had to admit, but he had to meet all the other applicants. Perhaps there was even something he could do to check out Deadman’s story in the six days he had remaining before Kel arrived. 

“Right, of course.” Deadman pushed back his chair, as if to stand up. 

“Hold on.” Sadek held up a hand. “Stay here until you've finished that drink. And while you’re here, you can tell me why you’re so keen on getting aboard Kel’s ship. It’s not just getting one over on Jakeman, is it?” 

Deadman looked surprised for a moment. “It’s... It’s kind of dumb.” 

Sadek arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

“At first I was coming here to warn you about Jakeman, and that’s it.” Deadman shrugged. “But then I looked into it, and it seems like aboard Traveler, I’d get a chance to see more than the Gap run or a few mining stations.” 

“You want more adventure than the gap freighters?” Sadek chuckled; the Gap run was notoriously stressful work for most crews, as a navigation or powerplant failure out there in the middle of all that empty space between galactic arms meant certain death.  

Deadman nodded, then took a long swig of his drink. 

Sadek opened his mouth to say that this was unlikely aboard a little ship like Traveler, but closed it again, remembering how apparent the trouble surrounding Kel’s vessel had been to Alicia Powers. “Well, you're young.” Sadek drained the rest of his own Ashkelon Cardamom Fizz, and was surprised to find that he wanted more. “Hopefully you’re nothing like me, so when you’re my age, you’ll have some sense.” 

This will be the last excerpt from this lengthy account for a little while; we have other items that we have been approved to publish, plus a few other items from the inbox that are worth review in this space. I will say that, in my experience, Jakeman and Deadman are depicted as very archetypal varieties of spacecraft technician, suggesting that their characters are not quite portrayed accurately in this account. 

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Tales from the Inbox: The Technician’s Interview

2952-03-20 – Tales from the Inbox: The Technician’s Interview 

As discussed with previous installments of this story, I do think Mr. Sherburn is embellishing and altering some details of his account, but I lack the tools or information to separate out the alterations from the facts, as is true for most stories we feature in this space. 

His story of the origin story of his crew is interesting and certainly mostly true, and likely many crews have similar shared, slightly curated origin stories which help cement them together, so it is improper to attempt to parse out the parts he has decided to massage.

Alicia Powers smiled knowingly. “Not a very smart spacer indeed, Mr. Sherburn.” She drained her cup in one smooth motion, then set it back down. “Fortunately for you, neither am I. You know my comms code when you've made your decision.” 

With that, she stood up and headed for the exit. Based on the swaggering sway of her hips, she seemed to think she had overawed Sadek and secured herself the job. 

Sadek watched her leave, less because of aesthetic considerations and more because he was wondering whether she was right. Powers was a vastly more experienced spacer than he was, despite being almost ten years his junior, and her experience made her well suited to maintaining the engines and reactor aboard Traveler. She was, in fact, probably capable of doing her own job and Sadek’s simultaneously; most of her experience was on larger ships with bigger crews. 

Powers wasn’t the only credentialed engineer who’d put in a CV – there was one other candidate – but Sadek didn’t have to make any decisions right away. The next crew candidate, a repair technician who’d taken early retirement from the Navy a few years before the War and apparently did not feel any patriotic call to return to military service, would be arriving in perhaps half an hour. 

While he waited, Sadek ordered fried mushrooms – real ones, grown in a mycological hothouse on-station – and tapped his way through some routine datasphere inbox traffic, including several formulaic good-bye-and-good-luck missives from some of his associates back on Thaddeus Wall. The mushrooms, when they arrived steaming in front of him, proved a delightful distraction; they were attractive even to look at, coated in their prickly golden-brown batter. They tasted even better than they looked, though in his haste to try one, he scalded his tongue quite badly. 

A server had just taken away Sadek’s empty plate and cup when a portly, gray-haired man with a bristly moustache approached the table. “You are Mr. Sherburn of the Traveler?” 

Sadek rose and extended a hand. “Mr. Jakeman, is it?” 

“Aye." Sanjay Jakeman cleared his throat and took Sadek’s hand in his own sweaty paw. “At your service.” 

Sadek gestured for Jakeman to be seated. Before he did so, Jakeman leaned over the menu hologram and ordered himself a drink and a full meal. Sadek hadn’t seen exactly what it was, but he was sure it was something from the most expensive section of the menu.  

Suppressing a wince, Sadek seated himself and folded his arms across the table. “Tell me about why you’re in between ships at the moment.” 

“Eh, you know how it is.” Jakeman shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “There’s lots of ways to run a ship, and they’ll all work with the right crew. The DeMario’s new ship-owner wanted his own sort of military discipline, and I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime.” 

Sadek nodded slowly. “I see. Was he ex-military?” 

Jakeman chuckled. “Not that I know of. Just someone who didn’t know how to loosen up, eh?” 

Sadek smiled. “I think I know the type.” 

“He’ll learn in a couple months, but I wasn’t keen on sticking around until then.” Jakeman glanced around the room. “Better let some novices jump on that grenade.” 

“Is DeMario a newer ship, or an older one?” Sadek ordered himself another chilled coffee. 

“Older, but with some newer upgrades.” An attendant arrived and slid Jakeman’s meal onto the table. It was a roast of some sort that emitted a strongly spicy aroma. “Good mix of both, I thought.” 

Sadek, who could normally get nothing spicier than the “hot sauce flavoring” drizzle option provided by a food-fab machine, waved the fumes away from his stinging eyes. “What systems were newer?” 

“Atmospherics, cargo handling, most of the electrical harness.” Jakeman licked his lips as he surveyed the food on his plate, food that he’d ordered on Sadek’s tab. “A few other things.” 

Sadek nodded, suppressing a cough. “What about the food-fabs?” 

“Ancient monsters with loads of aftermarket goodies. Finicky things, but when they were working, they were something special.” Jakeman carved a sizable chunk out of the roast with his fork and raised it in front of his face. “Fun to tinker with, too, but the lads hated when I did, even if the chow was better afterwards.” 

“How was it better?” Sadek took a gulp of his drink, trying not to let the tears in the corners of his eyes get free and roll down his cheeks. 

Jakeman shoved the chunk of meat into his mouth and chewed for a long time before answering. “You had options for real flavor.” To Sadek’s dismay, he hadn’t swallowed, providing an unpleasant view of half-chewed meat with every word. “Not as good as this place, but spices go a long way.” 

“Yes, I’m sure they do.” Sadek looked around the room, pretending to be looking for one of the attendants while he did his best not to focus on Jakeman’s chewing. 

The technician didn’t seem to even notice Sadek’s noncommittal reaction; he busied himself in wolfing down his meal so quickly that it was a wonder he even tasted it, and he barely looked up from the plate until the food was gone. As soon as it was, Jakeman sat back in his chair. “I’m glad you asked about the food-fab machines, Mr. Sherburn.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with one thick finger. “Good chow is one of the most important things for the morale of any crew.” 

“Absolutely it is.” Sadek nodded rapidly, glad at least that the pungent odor was fading. “We do have some challenges in that department, of course.” 

“Ah yes, the ship-owner being a xeno.” Jakeman chuckled. “Unique situation. Means we Terrans have to do more of the heavy lifting, aye? Finding work in places that he’d never blend in.” 

“Kel doesn’t have that problem, actually.” Sadek felt himself returning to familiar ground. “At least, not yet.” 

“Maybe it would be better if he did, hmm?” Jakeman shook his big shoulders. “But that’s a conversation for when you hire me on, Sherburn.” Pushing back his chair, the big man stood. “I’m looking forward to working with you. You know how to reach me when the ship’s ready.” 

As Jakeman lumbered off, Sadek realized that his were not the only eyes watching the technician’s departing back. A gangly figure lurking beside the doors to the kitchen, which Sadek had thought was a trainee attendant, watched Jakeman until he was out of the Charlestown, then glanced over at Sadek. 

After a few false starts, as if psyching himself up to step forward, the figure darted forward and slipped between the tables until he reached Sadek’s. It was a young man – a boy, really – perhaps sixteen or seventeen T-years old, with pale skin and dark, curly hair. 

“Can I help you, son?” Sadek arched his eyebrow, but worried the effect was somewhat reduced by his reddened, teary eyes. 

“I was hoping you had a moment.” The boy wrung his hands and shook his head emphatically. “I, uh. I didn’t submit a CV, but I was hoping you’d consider taking me on. I’d be a better tech than Jakeman, I promise.” 

Sadek wasn’t sure how this could possibly prove true, but he also wasn’t sure how this could possibly be wrong. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Er.” The youth winced. “Deadman, sir.” 

Sadek blinked slowly, wondering if this was some sort of prank. 

“No, really! My name’s Elliott Deadman.” He gestured to the display on Sadek’s wristcuff. "I was on DeMario with Jakeman for the last year. look me up.” 

Sadek nodded, and punched a query into his wristpiece. A moment later, he was looking at the very brief dossier for one Elliott Deadman, a junior technician who was fresh off his first crew posting on Vincent DeMario. “It’s almost an hour until my next interview. Have a seat.” Sadek gestured to the chair Jakeman had just vacated. “Tell me why Kel and I should hire you.” 

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Tales from the Service: The Engineer’s Interview

2952-03-13 – Tales from the Service: The Engineer’s Interview 

Because of several requests to continue with Sadek Sherburn’s account of the formation of the crew of Visitor, I will continue it in between more topical accounts as those present themselves, at low priority, but there is a fair bit more of the original submission which could be edited for this space. 

Tugging at the stiff collar of a freshly-fabricated turquoise and black uniform, Sadek sat down at a pre-arranged corner table in the Charlestown. Though freshly shaved and wearing the nicest attire he’d owned in nearly two decades, he still felt out of place in the place, which was as close to a high-class establishment as he’d ever frequented. 

At least, he consoled himself, the food would be good. The Charlestown, one of the two original eateries built into the Sagittarius Gate waystation which had formed the core of the ungainly mass known as The Sprawl, was probably the best dining experience this side of the Gap. True, it would be a third-rate establishment on any major station in the Core, and on most worlds its fare would be considered hopelessly drab, but Sadek had never sampled cuisine in any of those places, and probably never would. 

Though the table’s holographic menu advertised dozens of enticing alcoholic drinks, Sadek requested only a sweetened, chilled coffee drink. This meal was, after all, a business meeting. 

A blonde woman in a simple gray tunic approached the table. “Mr. Sherburn?” She held out her hand. “I’m Alicia Powers.” 

“Ah, yes.” Sadek stood and shook her hand, then gestured to the seat opposite himself. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” Kel had promised to reimburse his expenses, so he didn’t wince at the possibility of a sizable bill. That, at least, was one thing about the whole hiring process that Sadek didn’t need to worry about. 

Powers nodded and jabbed a finger into the menu too fast for Sadek to see what it was she had ordered, then sat back, folding her hands together on the table. She was, he estimated, a bit above thirty T-years old, with a cooly patient bearing that suggested that she’d  

Sadek realized after an awkward pause that she was waiting for him to speak – and after all, why shouldn’t she? He was supposed to be the interviewer, after all. After taking a sip of his drink, he cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Tell me about why you left your last posting, the Siren Song.” 

“Hmm.” Powers opened her mouth, but just then someone arrived and dropped off her drink, a milky beige liquid that smelled of strong, sweet spices. She nodded up to the attendant, then turned back to Sadek. “The Song is a good ship, but my contract was up, and I thought it was time for something new.” 

Sadek nodded, though this answer seemed too vague to be truthful. “Visitor will certainly offer you novelty, should we have you aboard. Your qualifications as a flight engineer are quite competitive, I must say. Do you think your skills are stronger with older systems, or with newer ones?” 

Powers frowned, probably wondering which answer was the right one. “Most old star drives and gravitic drives are simpler, but I have most of my crew time on relatively new models. The Song was running on a pair of EL-31 grav units and a Cimarran VV-6 Transitor... None of that is more than thirty years old.” 

Again, Sadek nodded to hide his reservations. He hadn’t heard of any civilian vessel using twin gravitic drive units; certainly if someone tried that on a launch-scale spacecraft, it would be ungainly and require constant tuning, lest the gravitic shear disruptions between the two engines shake the ship to pieces. “You were the only system engineer for a paired-drive powerplant?” 

“I was the only officially certified engineer.” Powers shrugged. “The skipper wasn’t certified, but he knew those drive systems so well that he could do everything I could. We had a couple crew techs that pitched in, too.” 

“He certainly left a glowing endorsement in your records.” Sadek had seen similarly stilted language of confidence in the crew dossiers for all the candidates he was considering, but if she was telling the truth, this one seemed well earned. “Obviously Visitor is a much smaller vessel, with a much simpler powerplant.” 

“Indeed. A curious vessel, by all reports. I regret that I did not see her when she was in dock. Is it really a xeno-built ship?” 

There was no reason to lie about this, so Sadek shrugged. “Originally it was. The powerplant was damaged beyond all repair, and my employer had it rebuilt with Terran systems.” 

Powers smiled. “I suppose I shouldn’t feel too badly about that; you’d hardly be looking to hire me to maintain an alien drive system. What’s the ship running now?” 

Sadek, to whom the systems manifest for Traveler was an incomprehensible jumble of serial numbers, called up the appropriate page on his wristcuff screen and held it out for Powers to see. 

The woman studied the display for a moment, then sat back. “A Mardsen-Keller HO-51? That’s high-end drive hardware for such a little ship, Mr. Sherburn.” 

Sadek frowned. It probably shouldn’t have surprised him that Kel had somehow arranged for premium drive systems for his rebuild of Visitor, but it did. “Have you worked on this type of gravitic drive before?” 

“Hardly anyone has worked on the HO-51 because it’s so new. Mardsen-Keller designs have partial parts compatibility with Edom Li drives, and I’ve spent nearly the last eight years on ships powered by Edom Li gravitic units.” Powers sipped her drink gingerly. “As long as you’ve got the manuals on file, though, I can handle it.” 

Sadek, knowing it was fruitless to  wonder how a brand-new drive unit from the Core had managed to make its way to the Sprawl to be installed on Traveler, but no solution to that mystery boded well for Sadek or for anyone else who signed on to crew the ship. Hiding his concerns behind a broad smile, Sadek spread his hands. “Do you have any questions for us?” 

“Only one.” Powers sipped her drink again. “What’s your angle, Sherburn?” 

Sadek blinked, suddenly feeling very cold. “My angle? Why would I need an angle with the salary rates on this crew?” 

“Sure. That’s what I thought, too.” Powers leaned in and lowered her voice. “Pay’s good enough for anyone who doesn’t see all the red flags not to look too close. Your dossier made me think that was all there was to it.” She narrowed her eyes. “But it’s damned clear that you’ve got eyes for all the trouble. So either you’re in on a pretty big secret, or you’ve got an angle.” 

Sadek winced. Perhaps, were he in Powers’s seat, he would have come to the same conclusion. If only things were that simple. “Kel got me off a pretty hard course.” Sadek didn’t really like the idea of being terribly honest with a near-stranger, but clearly Powers was perceptive enough that it was unwise to lie to her. “I was on a ship that couldn’t even keep its food-fabs working, with no prospects. I couldn’t really say no.” He dropped his shoulders. “I’ve got this feeling Kel thinks that when trouble comes, I’m the person that’ll get him out of it.” 

Powers nodded. “A smart spacer would jump ship and vanish at the first opportunity.” She arched one eyebrow, as if this was a suggestion. 

“Well.” Sadek downed the rest of his iced coffee in one long gulp. “If you’ve read my file, it’s pretty obvious that I’m not a very smart spacer.” 

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