held enough water to last half a dozen people at least a month, and he hadn’t used much, despite his frenzy of cleaning over the past week, nonetheless he preferred to keep the tank as full as possible. Water was a valuable commodity he had no wish to run out of in an emergency.
That job done he spent a few moments looking out through the view screen at the rain that was lashing down, very much relieved that he had no immediate need to leave the ship. He was sure if he were to leave he would be drenched by the time he took his first step beyond the airlock.
Getting up from the pilot’s seat Step wandered around the bridge to ease the stiffness in his legs. What had been a dirty and messy area when he first stepped on board the ship was now gleaming, and looked much like it must have done when the ship left the yard after construction.
Looking like it had when it left the shipyard, wasn’t the same as working like it had when it left the shipyard however, his efforts to conduct maintenance on the bridge, and the engine room, which he had cleaned up once he was finished with the bridge, had been hampered by two things. The first problem he had was the lack of tools; he had no idea if his brother had never acquired a decent set of tools to maintain his ship with, or if he had sold them at some point to pay off one of his many debts. The other problem he had was a lack of knowledge, he had received a small amount of training in ship maintenance when he switched from fighters to scout ships, but it wasn’t nearly enough.
Once the stiffness in his legs had eased, which took a while since he had been sitting for the past several hours as he came off autopilot and brought Gambler’s Luck in to land, Step returned to the pilot’s chair.
He was just about to call out to contact Carboni’s local representatives to arrange for collection of the two cargo containers in the belly of his ship when the computer beeped for an incoming message. Not sure who would be contacting him, or why, Step opened the coms line, and found the screen filled with the image of an officious-looking man in a uniform, instinctively he straightened up, even though that uniform was not that of the Mulnoy Navy.
“Gambler’s Luck, this is Captain Daile Kipol, Barth security services.”
“Captain,” Step responded politely. “I am Captain Step Velkin of the Gambler’s Luck, how can I help you?” It felt a little strange addressing himself as Captain, especially when his rank in the Mulnoy navy was a couple of steps below it, but he supposed he would get used to it in time. Being the owner of Gambler’s Luck made him its captain, even if it wasn’t the sort of captain he had expected to become.
“You can wait on board for a security team to arrive to conduct a search of your ship. You may accept the deliveries of fuel and water you have requested, but nothing may leave the ship until the search has been completed.”
The connection was severed abruptly, leaving Step a little taken aback. While he wasn’t used to dealing with planetary security services, at least not in the role of captain of a cargo vessel, he had expected a little more courtesy. Briefly he wondered if the Captain knew of the package he was carrying for Ettore Carboni, and the search was intended to find it. He dismissed the thought however, his instincts told him the search had nothing to do with Carboni’s package; nonetheless he was glad he had taken pains to conceal it during the course of his journey from Jum Palt.
All he could do was hope he had done a good enough job and it remained undiscovered, because he was almost certain it contained something illegal. The price Carboni was paying for the delivery pretty much guaranteed that.
His mind raced, considering the possible reasons for the search that was to take place, but his eyes remained watchful and he spotted the small group of security officers as they approached in a ground-car from the distant port authority
That job done he spent a few moments looking out through the view screen at the rain that was lashing down, very much relieved that he had no immediate need to leave the ship. He was sure if he were to leave he would be drenched by the time he took his first step beyond the airlock.
Getting up from the pilot’s seat Step wandered around the bridge to ease the stiffness in his legs. What had been a dirty and messy area when he first stepped on board the ship was now gleaming, and looked much like it must have done when the ship left the yard after construction.
Looking like it had when it left the shipyard, wasn’t the same as working like it had when it left the shipyard however, his efforts to conduct maintenance on the bridge, and the engine room, which he had cleaned up once he was finished with the bridge, had been hampered by two things. The first problem he had was the lack of tools; he had no idea if his brother had never acquired a decent set of tools to maintain his ship with, or if he had sold them at some point to pay off one of his many debts. The other problem he had was a lack of knowledge, he had received a small amount of training in ship maintenance when he switched from fighters to scout ships, but it wasn’t nearly enough.
Once the stiffness in his legs had eased, which took a while since he had been sitting for the past several hours as he came off autopilot and brought Gambler’s Luck in to land, Step returned to the pilot’s chair.
He was just about to call out to contact Carboni’s local representatives to arrange for collection of the two cargo containers in the belly of his ship when the computer beeped for an incoming message. Not sure who would be contacting him, or why, Step opened the coms line, and found the screen filled with the image of an officious-looking man in a uniform, instinctively he straightened up, even though that uniform was not that of the Mulnoy Navy.
“Gambler’s Luck, this is Captain Daile Kipol, Barth security services.”
“Captain,” Step responded politely. “I am Captain Step Velkin of the Gambler’s Luck, how can I help you?” It felt a little strange addressing himself as Captain, especially when his rank in the Mulnoy navy was a couple of steps below it, but he supposed he would get used to it in time. Being the owner of Gambler’s Luck made him its captain, even if it wasn’t the sort of captain he had expected to become.
“You can wait on board for a security team to arrive to conduct a search of your ship. You may accept the deliveries of fuel and water you have requested, but nothing may leave the ship until the search has been completed.”
The connection was severed abruptly, leaving Step a little taken aback. While he wasn’t used to dealing with planetary security services, at least not in the role of captain of a cargo vessel, he had expected a little more courtesy. Briefly he wondered if the Captain knew of the package he was carrying for Ettore Carboni, and the search was intended to find it. He dismissed the thought however, his instincts told him the search had nothing to do with Carboni’s package; nonetheless he was glad he had taken pains to conceal it during the course of his journey from Jum Palt.
All he could do was hope he had done a good enough job and it remained undiscovered, because he was almost certain it contained something illegal. The price Carboni was paying for the delivery pretty much guaranteed that.
His mind raced, considering the possible reasons for the search that was to take place, but his eyes remained watchful and he spotted the small group of security officers as they approached in a ground-car from the distant port authority
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