Si’s Solar Salvage

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

~~~~~

This is part 1 of 5. All parts are complete. I plan to release one part per week as I don’t know when I’ll have time to work on my other unfinished projects and it’s been a while since I published anything.

~~~~~

Prologue

When Si Sanfrid first docked at Seb’s Space Station in his salvage trawler, “The Fool’s Errand”, Seb was frantic to get the dreadful-looking scow as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. He didn’t want the passengers, tourists, merchants, and dignitaries arriving at the station seeing that lumbering eyesore. As soon as the station owner discovered that Si intended to stick around, he rented the man a docking bay – at the opposite end of the station. He even agreed to only charge Si what the space actually costed the station – just to get him to move his ugly tug a little faster.

It’s not that Seb dislikes people like Si; the station owner understands the service they perform. He knows his facility wouldn’t function without all those grunts – and without all of those base commodities they deliver. Seb just wants to make sure the “paying customers” are always happy – and they’re not happy when they have to look at shitty-looking ships.

Seb would have raised Si’s rent years ago – if not for the fact that the measly grub was the best source of the tons upon tons of resources he needed for his fabricators. Seb couldn’t even remember what Si looked like – but the station owner’s accountants and his facilities manager assured him that Si was the sole reason they’d been able to stop importing those simple but necessary components. Si’s salvage efforts not only cleared the flight-lanes around the station – insuring that traffic moved without delay – but his work also gave the space-station access to the cheapest resources available…

The “north” side of Seb’s station serves commercial and military interests; the “south” side is where the laundry gets washed, the garbage gets incinerated, and the salvage-operators bring in the products that will never end up in the north-side’s marketplace – metals, plastics, elemental building blocks, and common gases.

Rita runs the most popular diner on the south side of the space station. She has the best coffee in the galaxy. Ask any of the grunts that keep Seb’s station running like a well-oiled machine.

Besides keeping the common workers fed, Rita is also the facility’s liaison with the Trade Federation. She pulls salvage contracts from the inter-web and keeps Si and the other tug operators as busy as possible. Rita may not visit Seb’s offices very often – but he knows what Rita looks like – and his people encourage him to do his best to keep her happy and productive. Their nickname for her is the “Queen of the Southside”.

Salvage contracts come from the Trade Federation. Whenever pirates, meteors, and other intergalactic bad luck leaves a trail of wreckage in their wakes, the T-Feds start looking for somebody to get those trade lanes back open as fast as possible. The Federation pays well but salvage-operators are a rare breed. Clearing wrecks is dangerous, hard, time-consuming, and gruesome work.

Salvage tugs have massive engines (and twice the number of those that a normal ship their size would carry) for dragging wrecks. They have powerful tractor beams for the same reason. Those ships also have some of the best scanners around. Most scanners look for objects the size of a space-going vessel; salvage tugs scan for anything big enough to cause damage to a passing ship – and that’s pretty much anything.

Si’s tug has a couple things going for it that others don’t: Shiva and the boys. The boys (Moe, Curly, and Larry) are cargo droids that Si modified to help with his salvage operations. Shiva the Destroyer is Si’s highly-customized ship’s computer. Sexy, as Si sometimes refers to “her”, is not quite a sentient AI – but she’s not far off.

When Si’s parents died, he sold everything he owned (everything that was his – and everything bayburt escort he had inherited), bought a salvage tug, named it “Remembrance”, picked a direction, and launched from New Terra IV, attempting to leave his past (and his grief) far behind. Initially, at least, that plan failed. It failed miserably.

Weeks later, racing across the galaxy to points unknown, the booze was gone, the whole ship smelled like vomit Si never did find the rest of the body.

Shiva recorded the data that the Trade Federation required – and Si collected the bodies, the debris, and the ship parts – dragging them into the cargo bay and sending them through the renderer. The renderer broke everything down into base components, sorted it, and dumped the results into cargo crates. When a crate was full, the machine would stop, flash a warning, and wait for Si to swap the full crate for an empty one.

Once the miscellanea were cleared, it was time to start cutting the ships apart. These were fed into the renderer as well. It took days to chop everything down to manageable chunks and process them.

Once every ship – and every single stray bolt and button had been tracked down and recycled – Shiva recorded the cleared site and she Shiva handled the software.

Si had lost track of how many years he’d been at Seb’s – and how many contracts he’d completed for the Trade Federation – and how many times Rita had welcomed him home with a friendly smile, a hearty breakfast, and a hot cup of coffee.

Granddaddy

“Sector 12.42.34 is cleared, Rita,” Si reported, walking through the door of the diner, spotting his favorite person, and dropping into the seat of his favorite booth.

“Hi, hun,” she replied, setting a cup of coffee in front of him – along with a platter of breakfast.

“God, that smells amazing, sweetheart.”

“I’m taken, charmer. Save your silver-tongued sorcery for somebody else.”

“He doesn’t love you like I do,” Si said, winking at her.

Rita giggled, kissed his forehead, and headed back to the kitchen to grab the next order.

Seemingly within seconds, the only thing left of the huge meal, was a little syrup in the corner of the largest plate.

“Were you starving, Si?”

“You have the best food in the galaxy, Rita. I can never wait to get back here.”

“I’ll tell Karl you enjoyed it.”

“What’d you do to your hand?” he asked, spotting a nasty burn.

“Karl was busy; I tried to help with the fryer.”

Si took her hand and held it between the two of his, looking into her eyes. The heat from his palms lit the burn up all over again but she didn’t pull away. Si was one of the few tender-hearts that really cared about people.

“You need to be more careful,” he told her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you – well – and Karl.”

She laughed softly and – when he released her hand once more – grabbed the dirty dishes and shuttled them off.

She dropped the load into the steamy dishwater and gasped as she felt the heat rising up her fingers, yanking her hand back before the hot water reignited her injury with pain. She quickly ran her hands under cool water, clearing the soap, to inspect the burn once more. It was gone!

Rita delivered meals to two more tables, grabbed the coffee pot, and plopped down across from Si.

“Trade Feds want 12.44.34 cleared next,” she told him.

“What’s there?”

“At least two wrecks. Galactic Patrol said there’s a pirate group working that area. Watch yourself.”

“Thanks, Rita. Hey! Where’d the burn go?”

“I don’t know. I dropped your dishes off, rinsed off my hand, and it was gone.”

“Still hurt?”

She brushed the skin with her fingers and then pushed on the spot where the burn had been. “Nope.”

“That’s awesome! You got like healing powers or some shit?”

“Yeah. No. I’m not sure what happened.”

“I’m glad it doesn’t still hurt.”

“Thanks, bartın escort Si. More coffee?”

He pulled his big Thermos out, set it on the table, grinned at her, and said, “Maybe just a pot or two?”

“Alright, alright. Bring it over to the counter and I’ll set you up.”

She headed for the coffee-maker as he slid out of the booth. Si set the Thermos on the counter and Rita started filling it.

“What do I owe you, sweetheart?” he asked her.

“I took it off of your Trade Fed bounty.”

“Did I tip you enough?” he asked, smiling.

“I didn’t take a tip off – I’m just happy to see you back, safe and sound, hun.”

“Take some for Karl then,” Si told her.

She laughed, leaned towards the kitchen window, and yelled, “Hey, Karl. Si’s buying your lunch.”

The barrel-chested cook, wearing a grease-stained white apron, turned to look at them through the window, roared in laughter, and yelled, “Thanks, Si!”

Si gave him a wave.

“You heading to see Josiah next?” Rita asked him.

“Yeah. Got a full load of scrap from that last run – plus my gas-collector’s been running like crazy! I think I’m full up on hydrogen, helium, and argon.”

“Keep an eye on him. Ruger said he caught him with his finger on the scale the other day.”

“Should I just stow it for now?”

“I probably would. Seb’s not happy. Josiah may be on his way out.”

“Let me check the scrap market and I’ll go see him. You’ve got me curious.”

“Good luck. Don’t sell anything important.”

“Thanks, Rita.”

“Come back and see us.”

“You know I will – you’re my T-Fed pay-clerk.”

She laughed and waved as she headed back to the kitchen.

“He even ask about his bank balance?” Karl asked her.

“Never does.”

“That boy’s too trusting,” the cook sighed.

Rita looked at her wrist, wondering what had happened to the burn. She stuck her hand in the hot water – holding it there for a few seconds – verifying that the burn was completely gone.

“I wonder,” she replied.

“What’s that?” Karl asked.

She gave him a peck on the lips and went to make more coffee. “Sometimes I wonder about that boy,” she said.

~~~

“Si! Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Hey, Josiah.”

“You got any aluminum for me?”

“Two tons of aluminum, ten tons of steel, a half-ton of carbon fiber, a little copper, and a little gold. Also got hydrogen, oxygen, helium, and argon.”

“Nice.”

“What are you offering?”

“I can give you 90% of the market-price for the aluminum and the helium. I’ve got a buyer waiting for those. I can give you 75% on the others.”

“I’ll sell the aluminum and the helium and hold onto the rest then,” Si replied.

“85 for the steel?” Josiah offered.

“I can do that.”

Josiah tapped some buttons on his tablet and presented the contract to Si for him to sign.

“Those are current market?” Si asked.

“Just checked a few seconds ago..” Josiah replied.

“Hmmm..” Si said, pulling out his own datapad.

“Ope! Hold on!” the commodities trader said, grabbing his own tablet back. “It just updated. Let me run those again.”

When Si got Josiah’s tablet again, he looked over the new numbers and signed the agreement. A notification pinged on his datapad. He looked at it, double-checking the numbers, once more, and nodded.

“Thanks, Josiah.”

“I’ll send James down with a grav-sled.”

“Alright. I’m heading that way now.”

On his way back to the Fool’s Errand, Si stopped in and told Rita what Josiah had tried to pull on him. She shook her head and waved him on his way.

James arrived. Si helped him get the cargo containers transferred to the sled.

“Just drop the empties back here please, James.”

“Yessir.”

Si reached into his pocket, pulled out a few credit-chits, and handed them to the boy.

“Thank you, sir. You’re always good to me.”

“Us low-lifes gotta look ığdır escort out for each other,” Si told him, smiling. “Josiah treating you okay?”

“Docks my pay when I mess up.”

“Don’t mess up then.”

“I’ve talked to others; they don’t get their pay cut as much as I do.”

“How much did you get docked?”

“Half.”

“What’d you do?”

“He claimed I had shit all fucked up – said I had aluminum in with the gold – and copper in the steel!”

“Did you?”

“I…”

Si looked at him hard.

“I don’t think so. My job may not be important – but I know how important it is to have shit sorted right.”

“How many credits did he short you?”

“Sir, you don’t have to…”

“How much?”

“A hundred.”

“You make two hundred a week?”

“Every two.”

“Fuck! Here.”

Si pulled out a credit stick, shoved it into the datapad, transferred 500 credits onto it, pulled it out, and handed it to the boy.

“Don’t lose that,” Si told him.

“How much did you give me?”

“500”

“I can’t!”

“I can. Shove it in your sock, take it home, give it to your ma.”

James looked intently at Si, nodded his head, pulled up his pant leg, and hid the credit stick away.

“If Josiah asks, you can tell him about the chits. Don’t mention the stick.”

“I won’t. Thank you. I’d hug you but that wouldn’t look right. Ma’s gonna shit. She was pissed at me.”

“Take care of yourself, James.”

“You too, sir. Thanks again.”

Si watched as the young man headed off with the grav-sled.

He locked down the station-side entrance to his loading-dock and headed back to Rita’s. It wasn’t lunchtime yet but he wanted to ask her to keep an eye on James for him.

~~~

Two days later, Si dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of Sector 12.44.34. It looked like a warzone. His scanners told him there were at least a hundred corpses floating around. Just the process of cataloging and disposing of the bodies was going to take days. He probably should have asked Rita what the Feds were offering to have this cleaned up; not that the money really mattered.

“Hey, Shiva,” he called out to his ship’s computer.

“Yes, Si?”

“Get Moe, Curly, and Larry ready.”

“They’re ready, willing, and able,” Shiva replied.

“Yeah, I don’t know about ‘willing’,” he laughed.

“Well, I’m willing and they’re able,” she responded in a sultry voice.

“Thanks, sexy. Let’s get started cleaning this shit up.”

For the next two weeks, Si, Shiva, Moe, Curly, and Larry worked tirelessly to clear the sector.

Every corpse – and stray body part – was scanned, geo-tagged, photographed, and logged. Once the data, and a DNA sample, had been collected, Si stripped anything of value from the body (or body part) and fed the rest into the recycler.

In addition to the credits the Trade Federation paid to have the lanes cleared, he got to keep whatever he found. Occasionally, he ended up with working ship parts; most of the time things just went into the renderer to be turned into chum to feed the fabricators. He’d named the ship’s computer Shiva – the Destroyer – because it seemed like they spent 99% of their time ripping things apart.

Despite his revulsion, Si scanned the body of the small child one last time – before dumping it into the renderer – to be turned into its elemental components. He tried not to think about the look of fear on the little one’s face. If he had to guess, this next body was the child’s mother.

Shiva handled the painstaking process of recording all the information for the Feds – not that anybody would ever (most likely) come looking for evidence of where their long-lost relative had gone.

In some ways, processing these corpses was therapeutic. Si was able to give them their final rest – rather than leaving them to float in space as some hideous reminder of the depravity (or bad luck) of mankind.

The scan didn’t show anything valuable – other than a few credits in her purse. Si finished looting the body, and sent it into the renderer.

Most of the body would be carbon. If Si was “lucky”, he’d end up with some oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen. There might be a little water. The rest would be trace elements. They’d all be sorted and collected – but it took a while to get enough to sell.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32