According to O’Bannon, it was a question of when, not if, some assortment of claim jumpers, pirates, and thieves attempted to take over lcy Mama. He played the game to survive and win. By Juergens’ reckoning, the smart thieves had long since learned to steer clear of O’Bannon and the Madre De Hielo. The stupid ones could be dangerous, but usually ended up contributing their ship, weapons, and equipment to the voyage’s bottom line.
Unfortunately, there always seemed to be someone willing to try, because the smaller worlds out here didn’t really care too much about the provenance of their D2.
All of this had Kenaz wondering about the opening on the crew he had filled, and whether that person was still breathing. No one had mentioned a thing about it, so he had decided not to broach the subject. They were close to having the comet completely bagged and tagged, and the skull sessions on where to sell were lively, to say the least.
Kenaz dished up a blackberry cobbler dessert and sat down with the rest of the crew. “This is the last of the frozen blackberries; it’s a shame I can’t grow them on the rig. The way they spread, you’d probably have a vine crawling in your bunk with you. They only produce on second-year growth, so they are kind of impractical out here.”
“All I know is I’m going to miss them for what’s left of the trip,” Juergens allowed, as he scooped up a generous bite.
“How is our food supply looking?”
“With what I’ve been able to supplement from the hydroponics truck garden, we’re in really good shape. We still have thirty percent of what I loaded out with from Ganymede, and the balance, other than the blackberries and a few other items, is still good. If that runs out, there’s six months’ worth of Acme high-density ration paste to keep us going. I think that’s left over from your last trip. Has anyone checked the expiration dates?”
“I picked that stuff up in a trade in ought ninety-five, and it’s supposed to be good for thirty years, so it should still be close to edible,” returned O’Bannon.
“ ‘Edible’ is not a word I would use to describe that stuff,” said Siobahn. “What it does to your digestive system doesn’t bear talking about, either. We had to subsist, if that’s not too strong a word, on that goo for a month on the last trip. The frozen pirates we had bagged with the cargo were starting to seem like a better option, there at the end.”
“Don’t remind me,” said Juergens. “Those bastards were about seventy-five percent non-organic, and I was still wondering how they would taste with a bit of barbecue sauce, if we’d had any.”
“Those non-organic parts added about a thousand credits to your share, as I recall, so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to grill them up,” said O’Bannon.
Kenaz was aghast at the casual talk of cannibalism, even if it was half in jest. Salvaging the bodies for spare parts was apparently business as usual. These Diskers didn’t waste mass, that was for sure.
“You realize, Kenaz, that the main reason you’re on this trip is all the lovely food you brought to the table,” said Beads. “We were down to that nasty paste, and a shakedown by the banks on Ganymede had us without access to our capital from the last trip. You could have been a four-armed orangutan, and the captain would have signed you on. Come to think of it, the orangutan might have been more useful…certainly more attractive.”
“You’re a barrel of laughs, Beads. I should have held out for a bigger percentage.”
“Probably,” said the captain, “but I would have just taken it out of your hide in the dojo. Enough shooting the bull, let’s look at our possible markets and see what makes the most sense. We’ll be flipping Icy Mama in another couple of days, so it’s getting to crunch time.”
“My vote is for New Pottstown. I have some friends there, and I haven’t had a Yuengling lager in ages,” Juergens put in.
“It’s in my top two also, along with Steen’s Freehold. Steen’s would likely bring us the better price but there’s the problem of getting in and out of there alive,” the captain qualified. “What do you think, Dodson? How goes the number crunching?”
<Either of those are good options at this point, without much to choose between them profit-wise. If you’d care to take on a bit more risk, though, the highest profit potential is at High Hat. The last information I have on them is that they are solvent but possibly getting desperate. There’s a twenty percent probability that the legitimate government has collapsed or will do so before we get there, which could really put a dent in our margin.>
“How much of a higher profit are we talking?”
<I’m putting it at about thirty percent higher than the two leading candidates.>
“Hmm.. not really worth the added risk. Beads, Siobahn, what’s your take?”
“I’m leaning toward New Pottstown also. The liberty possibilities are better, and they have a bigger variety of food than the Freehold for restocking our supplies,” Siobahn pointed out.
“I would prefer Steen’s Freehold,” said Beads. “The mod upgrades market there is really lively, and I’ve got quite a bit of my special inventory built up. We would probably have a better market there for whatever claim jumpers’ equipment we liberate along the way as well.”
“How about you, kid? For a greenhorn, you’ve proven fairly savvy on the business end of things.”
“Since I’m fond of my skin, I’ll say New Pottstown as well. They have a diversified agricultural base, and I’m sure the seeds I’ve saved will fetch some valuable trade in kind.”
“We’ll provisionally call it New Pottstown, then. We won’t be committed until we make our burn, so keep an open mind in the interim,” finished the captain.
A few days later, it was all hands to stations. The comet was now separated into all its saleable constituents, and it was time to flip the Madre De Hielo and latch onto the mass of interlocked ice blocks that was the most massive part of the cargo and tie it down.
Kenaz was in the rig’s core, monitoring the NSAIs managing the shutdown of the last few ES fields. Beads was outside with the sled, standing by at a safe distance to run down anything valuable that might break loose. The rest of the crew was working a carbon nanotube net over the mass of film-covered ice. Once the net was in place, they could begin the tiedown procedure.
<Everything is in place out here, Dodson. We have safe separation from the rig. You can initiate the turnaround,> the captain sent over the Link.
<Unclutching gyros and initiating rotation,> Dodson replied.
He used the rig’s massive carbon fiber composite flywheel to generate a very gentle rotation. The flywheel also served as a tertiary source of emergency energy in case they lost the fusion plant and what was stored in their large bank of SC batteries. The Madre De Hielo came ponderously about, then slowed as it came into alignment.
<Perfect on the lateral, give me half a degree on the perpendicular,> sent O’Bannon.
The stubby pyramid of ice blocks was shaped to nest with the processing end of the rig. O’Bannon and Juergens maintained a respectful distance in their armored suits, making sure the alignment was right. Getting in between the rig and that mountain of ice was an invitation to disaster. The Madre De Hielo’s legs were fully retracted, but would soon grasp as much of the pyramid as they could reach. They were really only a backup to the net and tie-downs that the crew was presently getting in place to attach.
<Perfect, Dodson, now minimum forward.>
As the rig and ice came together at a glacial pace, Beads, Siobahn, Juergens, and the captain attached the net’s tiedowns to sixteen separate retractors. Kenaz heard a muted, grinding rumble followed by some truly ominous creaks and pops as the Madre De Hielo made contact with her ice mountain cargo.
<Positive tension starboard.>
<Positive tension port.>
<Positive tension topside.>
<Positive tension keel.>
<Everything shows green. We’re back in one piece,> sent Dodson.
<Good job, crew! Let’s finish up, and Kenaz can cook us a
celebratory dinner.>
Kenaz rechecked the optical coverage status, now that everything was realigned, made a few adjustments, and then shut the board down. Unstrapping from his station, he launched himself gently toward the hatch to the hab ring hub and waved to Dodson’s visual pickup.
<Time to feed the beasts.>
<You’ve done an excellent job of that, Kenaz. You’ve no idea how much I appreciate the happiness quotient you’ve added to this trip,> replied Dodson.
<Really? You don’t even have taste buds.>
<I do have some very sophisticated olfactory sensors that Beads set me up with, though, and Icy Mama has never had this variety of good smells before. More importantly, the crew is happy. A happy human crew functions more smoothly and is more resilient when things get rough. I was firmly in your corner when the captain was making the decision. You wouldn’t believe the amount of complaining there was over the food on the last trip, especially when they got down to that nutrient paste. It smells awful, especially the ham and eggs flavor…something like really low-grade cat food.>
<No wonder there is so much of that variety left in storage. I’m glad I’ve been a blessing to the crew. Sometimes I wonder, with all the ribbing I get.>
<Well, they give each other a hard time, too. They wouldn’t be messing with you if they didn’t like you and consider you part of the crew.>
Kenaz arrived at the hub and slid through the interface port into the inner ring that attached to the rig’s core. Grabbing a handhold on the core side, he reoriented his feet outward to what would be down on the hab ring. Watching carefully, he waited as the ring turned until the opening to Spoke One nearly aligned with his feet, and then he pushed off. He caught the ladder in the meter-wide passage and climbed “down” to the hab-ring.
Once in the galley, Kenaz remembered that the yeast rolls needed to go into the oven and popped them in, then took the egg-noodle dough out of the chiller and set a pan of salted water on to boil. He checked on the slowly simmering beef tips and onions, added a bit of pepper, and stirred in the fresh mushrooms he had sliced earlier. While the water was coming to boil, he floured the cutting board’s surface and the rolling pin, and got the dough rolled out nice and thin. A few passes with a knife, and he had several five-centimeter-wide strips of the dough stacked up. Cutting crosswise, he soon had his fresh noodles cut to size. The water was at a boil at that point, so he quickly added the noodles and set a timer.
The last thing that needed to cook was the yard-long beans. He put another pan of water on to heat, grabbed the latest harvest out of a colander, cut them into bite-sized lengths, and dumped them into the water. Five minutes would have them cooked but still nice and crunchy.
He snagged half a liter of sour cream out of the chiller and stirred it into the simmering beef mixture.
By some miracle, everything was pretty much ready when the crew all made it to the galley and set to the feast.
Fifteen minutes into the meal, Juergens came up for air and asked, “What do you call this stuff?”
“Beef stroganoff. The recipe has supposedly been in my family for centuries. I used to ask for it for my birthday dinner as a kid,” replied Kenaz.
“You’re still a kid,” O’Bannon gibed, “but I’ll allow that you can cook. These noodles are something else, you need to make them more often.”
“Well, they take a lot more time than the dried pasta that was part of the stores I brought. However, the freshly-made is traditionally used as a bed for the stroganoff, and this is a special occasion.”
“How long do you think you could keep us going with just the hydroponics?” asked Siobahn, “We’ve been eating a significantly higher percentage of freshly grown food this trip, but I wonder if it would be sustainable.”
“You would really have to start with that strategy in mind and go heavy on the beans and oats. I set us up for what I thought would best complement the stored food. You have enough room to do chickens, but to be sustainable, they would mainly be for egg production. I’ve run some simulations, but they all get to a fairly monotonous diet. I know a guy who successfully raises fish in a hydroponic system, but I wouldn’t try it on a rig like this without some experience.”
“Well, I’ve got no complaints with your choices for this trip,” said Beads as she took a bite of a radish from the relish tray. “I’m going to miss your food if you ever make enough credits to buy that farm.”
“Dodson told me that you set him up with some highly sensitive olfactory sensors. Have you ever done an enhanced sense of smell implant for a human?” asked Kenaz. “I imagine that would be really handy for a lot of applications in farming and cooking.”
“It’s handy for a lot of other things, as well. I can set you up if you’d like,” Beads offered. “They don’t come cheap, but you don’t want to go cheap. My best model is selectable from zero to bloodhound sensitivity and has advanced filtering if you want to home in on something specific. Believe me, there are times when you don’t want to smell everything at a hyper level. I’ve got a setup ready now, but I’d want something pretty special in trade for it.”
“I’ve got a packaged set of three hundred and fifty-one seed varieties that are certified for low-g hydroponic systems, with growing instructions. Passing you the specs.”
Beads perused the data package and nodded. “Done. At that mass level, I can hang onto it until the market is right. After dinner cleanup is done, we can go down to the autodoc, and I’ll hook you up.”
“I’m in agreement. We always seem to have to shoot our way in or out or both of Steen’s. I have a feeling we’ll have our fill of action well before we hit market. Any objections or other suggestions?” asked the captain.
No one spoke up.
“Okay, then, Dodson, start a twenty-four-hour countdown for initial burn. We’ll set up for dealing with boarders in the meantime.”
On the Hielo, they didn’t repel borders; they welcomed them with icy arms.
After getting the olfactory implant, Kenaz headed to the hydroponics section, taking deep breaths all along the way.
His enhanced sense of smell was a constant wonder, but he kept it dialed back to the ship’s cat-sense-level so it wouldn’t distract him too much. His brain was still trying to adapt to all the new input. He could tell that he would be able to substitute sense of smell for a lot of the chemical readings he normally did with a hand analyzer.
Five minutes later, he reached the hydroponics section and considered the necessary steps to secure it.
The Madre De Hielo’s fusion engine had once belonged to an FGT prototype tug, so she could give the mountains of ice she mined more than a gentle suggestion of which way to go. Even her big kicker would take some time to overcome their current inertia, and the acceleration would be a fairly gentle 0.1g. This allowed them to leave the hab ring rotating, so Kenaz just had to make sure the sideways push wouldn’t cause any problems with the hydro setup. He dropped fluid levels to seventy-five percent and made sure that the elastic covers were all in place while getting a quick harvest in along the way.
The rest of the crew was also working hard getting ready for the coming burn and setting up traps for unwanted vermin. The captain was firmly in the “waste not, want not” camp. Although the Madre De Hielo had missile and laser defensive armament, he only used it when he didn’t think the crew could handle an attack.
They regularly increased their bottom line, selling the ships of fools who thought Icy Mama was easy pickings. The claim jumpers didn’t have the option of disabling the rig this far from market, so they’d have to take it in a boarding action to see any profit.
What most didn’t realize was that Dodson and his rig were nearly impossible to take without penetrating the core. The approaches to get there without destroying the Icy Mama were fraught with a multitude of hazards, including the highly trained crew and remotely controlled weapons. The only truly viable options were to access the cargo hatch at the opposite end of the core or to take the hab ring hatch and come down one of the spokes. Either way gave the crew and Dodson several ambush points to take down intruders.
Once everything was ready, the crew sat down to go over defense deployment scenarios and set up a watch rotation.
“For all scenarios, you’re in the core with Dodson as a last line of defense, Kenaz. Everyone deployed inside will be in skin suits and medium armor,” said the captain.
The armor would stop almost anything that wouldn’t hole the rig. Chances were, claim jumpers wouldn’t pack anything that would ruin the ship, and the crew certainly wouldn’t shoot up their own home. Kenaz was starting to realize why they practiced so much up close and personal combat. The tight spaces in the rig didn’t allow for long-distance engagement, and the weapons that both sides were willing to use wouldn’t breach the armor they would be wearing without several shots.
“Okay, Kenaz, this is going to be your first real action. Do you have any qualms about taking out a boarder if it comes to that?”
“None at all. Safety for Icy Mama and the crew first, then mercy when we’re secure.”
“Well, just remember, Dodson and I are the ones who get to decide on ‘safe and secure’, and ultimately on ‘mercy’ as well. We won’t harm anyone who surrenders peacefully,” replied O’Bannon.
Most of the scenarios had Juergens and Beads outside in stealth space armor. O’Bannon and Siobahn would set up ambushes in the core or hab ring.
“I’ll take first watch. Keep your suits and armor handy no matter where you are. We commence burn in thirty minutes,” the captain instructed.