In the open space of the hall, Miss Mai hobbled next to Percy. Percy took her arm to help her along. It was a thin little stick of bone in Percy’s strong hand.
“So, the dock boss told you all about me already?” Percy asked, hoping to assess the levelness of the playing field.
“The dock boss, yes, and a few others… My friend Turnaround Bob told me you are eminently trustworthy and reliable. And also run a big enough boat for the particular job I need done.”
“Yeah, Bob tracked me down on the mainland and suggested I head out to this shithole depot to look for you. He hinted the work might be…profitable.”
“My dear Captain Percy, would you mind toning down your colorful language a bit during our interactions?”
“I’m a fucking sailor. What do you expect?”
Miss Mai shuffled on silently — and, Percy thought, somewhat reproachfully — for a minute. “Anyway. In my line of work, it is best to know a little something about those you hire. Though again, in the interest of transparency, all I really know is your name and that you have a boat.”
“What’s with all the transparency?” Percy asked.
“Ah, yes. Typically I play my cards a bit closer. But as I said, this job is of some urgency, so I am hoping to build some trust with you quickly. I can only hope you respond reciprocally.”
“Well then, in the interest of transparency you should know that my boat, as solid as she is, is currently in desperate need of some downtime for repairs. There’s a limited amount of urgency we can put into picking up a job.”
“With the amount I’ll be offering you, I think you will be able to make the shortest possible downtime a priority.”
“In that case I just hope we have similar ideas about what it costs to have priorities.”
Miss Mai nodded knowingly. “Here we are.” She steered Percy towards a low creosoted wooden door set into the wall of the main hall. Inside, Miss Mai’s office had the same bare rock walls as all the other depot spaces, but was more warmly lit from sconces along the walls. Many ancient wooden filing cabinets leaned against each other for support under the sconces, and contributed their woody exteriors to the effort to soften the feel of the place. In the center, a few large, heavily stuffed leather chairs sat across from each other; a small table stuck between them appeared to be constructed of some exotic wood.
“I can offer you tea or coffee, Captain Percy.”
“Coffee, please. A good amount of sugar.”
“Cream?”
“Sure, I’ll take a little creamer.”
“Not creamer, Captain Percy, cream.”
“Holy fuck — pardon my language — you have cream? Real, liquid cream?”
“It’s extremely expensive but, as with most things, it can be had here for the right price. I am happy to share a few drops with a business prospect.”
“By all means, then.”
Percy sat in one of the leather chairs and accepted a ceramic cup with mud-colored contents with one hand. With the other hand she received the metal clipboard with chipping black paint and oil-stained pages that Miss Mai was holding out to her. She scanned it while taking her first sip of coffee.
It was the best coffee Percy had had in months.
Miss Mai lowered herself with a soft groan into the chair opposite Percy.
“So you want us to transport magnetic mines?” Percy asked.
“Please,” said Miss Mai, “the shipping of mines is extremely restricted and mostly illegal. These are magnetically-activated industrial explosives.”
“…For which the primary use would be mines, and thus still illegal to ship.”
“The units are absolutely agnostic in their uses. They don’t have to be for a mine: could be a torpedo, missile, suicide-bomber, sling-shot, whatever. The oceans teem with rusting hulks of ferrous metal, grinding their way back and forth atop — and under, of course — the surface of the sea; leaving their foul trails of oil, carbon, and noise. There is quite a bit of demand for units that can help clean up the mess.”
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“Is that why you need me? You can’t get an Authority seal to ship these because they are going to a group that’s trying to ‘clean up’ the oceans?”
“You know as well as I do that the seal of one Authority just aggravates the aggression of another, regardless of where, or whom, your items are being shipped to.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, these days, conventional shipping ends up being an unwinnable game of tic-tac-toe with a high chance that no matter how well stamped, sealed, and authorized a shipment like this might be, it will simply never arrive at its destination due to interference from another antagonist. The most reliable way is to use a specialty shipping services unit like yours, with your professional expertise at clandestine maneuvering and your discreet interests. It’s simply a matter of reliability, you know. Nothing more.”
“Certainly if we were any less reliable, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you right now.”
“There’s also the matter of speed. I really need to get these units out of this depot in the next couple of days. I’d rather not say why, so do not ask. But I believe it will benefit us both if you do as I suggested earlier and make the repairs to your boat as quickly as possible, and move on with this cargo.”
“Well, that brings us to the price. To make the repairs a priority is not going to be cheap, especially from what I hear about the workers available on the dock.”
“Captain Percy, in this particular case, money is a secondary consideration. Name your price.”
Percy hesitated. “How about… three times a standard hull-load fee?”
“Done. I can pay you two-thirds now and the remainder on delivery. I assume coin will be satisfactory?”
“Entirely satisfactory,” said Percy, regretting that she had not asked for more. Still, she had never been paid triple a hull load before.
Miss Mai stood and shuffled over to a sideboard where an enormous ledger book was laid out open. She made marks with a large fountain pen in it between counting out heavy coins and placing them into a soft leather satchel. While watching Miss Mai pick apart the coins, Percy noticed for the first time that she only had three fingers on her right hand.
Miss Mai continued the conversation while counting as if it were no effort. “This must be quite a bit of money for you, Captain Percy. Tell me, have you thought about selling your boat after you make the delivery and taking all the profit you will have and settling down with a nice man somewhere?”
Percy smiled at this matronly side of Miss Mai. “Well, you know what the old cliché says about captains: I’m married to my boat. There’s no man who could compete with her. Besides, you also know how the surface life is: where it isn’t chaos, it’s bureaucracy. I’d rather stay underwater.”
Miss Mai nodded. “Unfortunately, there is some truth to that. There’s no sure future anywhere on the surface. Makes it hard to commit to settling down anywhere particular.”
“Not to change the subject Miss Mai, but how likely is it that we’re going to have some kind of Authority interference while trying to move this shipment of yours?”
“You know how the Authorities are Captain Percy. In some places they pursue everything. An honest logistician cannot ever promise there won’t be interference. That’s why we move things by submarine: interference is a lot less likely if they don’t know the shipping is happening. In this case, I would suggest that you do your absolute best to make sure no Authority finds out this particular shipment is happening.”
Percy ran her fingers through her cropped hair. “Let me ask you about another thing: Do you know anything about some Authority sub with a big ugly ram mounted on the front of it? Damned thing just about split the Prospect in half on the way here. It’s the reason we came limping in, and why we need the major repair work.”
At the mention of the ram Miss Mai’s eyebrows went up with a look of concern. “A ram on a submarine, you say?”
Percy nodded.
“The only time I’ve heard of such a thing — at least within the current century — is on a boat called the Grackle, An Authority enforcer out of the Northern Points.”
“What would it be doing a thousand miles from its home waters?”
“That I do not know the answer to. Except, I’ll tell you this Captain Percy: I hear rumors of new governing structures. Things being tried that might eventually weaken the local fiefdoms and establish new flows of global order. One such experiment is a suggestion I’ve heard recently that certain Authorities are now granting privateers warrants that promise a bounty on captured or sunk merchant shipping operating under the aegis of certain other Authorities — regardless of where that shipping is.”
“That seems likely to start a few wars.”
“It would. Except the rumors are that some of the most powerful Authorities are mobilizing against much weaker Authorities. It’s possible that rather than a protracted war, what we may end up with is a congealing of global power in the hands of a few Authorities. At least as far as shipping and trade are concerned.”
“And you’re saying the sub with the ram, this Grackle, might have got itself one of these privateer warrants?”
“It is one possibility that would explain where and why you encountered it.”
“But why the Prospect?”
“That’s what concerns me the most. Turnaround Bob works quickly and means well, but his business networks leak worse than that docking bay down there. There’s a chance that the job you are about to take on is already marked by some Authority as a valid concern for privateers. You may already be a target.”
Percy looked into her nearly empty coffee cup, and then savored the last sip of its creamy sweetness. “Well, I guess you get what you’re paid for.” She stood. “Thanks for the coffee with cream.”
“You are most welcome. I’ll have my men down on the dock by the end of today with the cargo, if you think you could be ready to load your boat by then.”
“Thanks.” Percy turned to go.
“Captain Percy, if I were you I would definitely make sure you are gone from here before the next 48 hours goes by.”
Percy nodded toward Miss Mai and closed the heavy door behind as she left the office.