Engineman - Eric Brown [60]
"The pre-eminence of the Danzig Organisation in the Rim sector?" Fekete asked, a sneer in his tone.
"The means of easy access to other planets for the average citizen," he said. "Whatever you might argue were the benefits of space travel, it was prohibitively expensive for the average citizen. I genuinely thought that I was working for the good of-"
"You're making me cry," Dan cut in. "You were working to line the pockets of your Organisation, and don't try to deny it."
Hunter smiled. "You are quite welcome to make your own interpretation of my actions," he said. "I have offered my motives."
The conversation lapsed. Down below, the band swung into its own rendition of Nada Riff. Thankfully at this range the music was mere background noise.
Mirren cleared his throat, nervous. "You said that I was close to the truth...?"
Hunter sipped his wine. "That's right, Mr Mirren. I am not offering to sell you flux-time. I am giving it to you. Or rather, I intend to pay you to flux again. I have a proposition to make."
Mirren stared at Hunter, his body cold with sweat.
Dan almost whispered, "What proposition?"
From the inside pocket of his grey jacket, Hunter withdrew a silver envelope. He passed it across the table to Mirren. "Please open it and take out the photographs."
Nervously Mirren unsealed the envelope and pulled out three large, glossy pictures. He stared at the first pix, looked up to see Hunter smiling at him. He was aware of Fekete and Dan watching him with a mixture of curiosity and impatience.
He passed two photographs to Dan and Fekete, keeping one for himself. It showed the side view of a short, stubby smallship, its silver paintwork marked with meteor impact slashes and flame excoriations behind the booster exhaust vents.
"An ex-Indian navy cruiser," Mirren said. "Hindustan Class II." He peered at the insignia on the flank and tail-fin. "I'd guess it was built in the Calcutta shipyards about thirty years ago."
Hunter said, "It's actually twenty-five years old, but you are correct in every other detail."
Dan stared at the photograph in his hand. "It's a little beauty. I've actually pushed one - a shuttle flight between Mars and Triton."
Fekete murmured, "It certainly is magnificent."
Mirren was watching Hunter, dry of throat, while the others prattled on. The off-worlder was smiling to himself.
"I am glad you're impressed," he said. "I own the smallship."
Dan was the first to voice an objection. "That's impossible! They were all scrapped, made inoperable. The interface people made sure they bought out every Line and junked every last 'ship. Even those that went to museums had their guts ripped out."
"And the Organisations," Fekete added, "are vigilant in their campaign to ensure that no-one ever gathers the parts and puts them back together."
Hunter shook his head. "They like to give that impression, and they were vigilant in the early days. They owned all the transportation licences and they didn't want their territory invaded. But latterly they've grown lax. Ship parts are expensive, and who would have the funds to put together and fly such a cost-consuming machine?"
"Where did you get it?" Mirren asked.
"I bought the shell of the 'ship itself from the New Delhi Universal Science Museum; the fittings, computers and such from various scrap yards and second-hand dealers in Europe and Asia, mainly London and Seoul. The flux-tank I located here, in Paris. Perhaps the most difficult part of the entire operation was finding engineers and technicians I could trust. But I succeeded." He gestured at the pictures.
Mirren was aware of a hard pressure of excitement in the centre of his chest like an incipient coronary. He could hardy bring himself to ask Hunter the all-important question.
Dan had no such reservations. "What the hell are you planning to do with it, Hunter?"
"I need," the off-worlder said, "a number of Enginemen to push the boat out to the Rim and back."
In that second, Mirren looked upon Hunter as his own personal saviour.