Chapter 167 · The Cost of Doing Business

Eli had barely made it to the common room before deciding that he had worn an Imperial uniform for quite long enough.

He unfastened the high collar, removed the belt and pulled off the tunic, which he draped over the back of the bench with considerably less care than he had taken putting it on that morning. The dark gaberwool was still in remarkably good condition, although a few hours spent dealing with Imperial bureaucracy had done nothing to improve his opinion of the garment. He could already feel the relief of having air circulate freely around his neck again.

Stent, who had followed him in carrying the latest freight directory, glanced at the discarded uniform. "You should hang that properly."

"I will."

Stent regarded the tunic for another moment before deciding that the condition of Eli's uniform was, for the time being, Eli's responsibility. He took a seat at the table and activated his datapad.

Eli was perfectly content to let him get on with it. His morning had involved rather more military administration than he had anticipated, and he intended to spend the next hour doing something that required absolutely no documentation. He retrieved a fresh cup of caff from the galley, sat down opposite Stent and stretched his legs beneath the table.

Ch'eth had apparently been waiting for precisely this opportunity.

The little kivren emerged from beneath the bench, investigated Eli's boots and made an exploratory attempt to climb his trouser leg. Eli intercepted him before he could get very far and lifted him onto his lap, where he immediately began investigating the hem of his shirt.

"Hello to you, too. I see you've had a terribly difficult morning."

"He has been out for most of it," Stent observed.

"Then I'm sure he's exhausted." Ch'eth demonstrated his exhaustion by making a determined attempt to climb onto the table. Eli caught him, turned him around and deposited him back on his lap. The animal appeared to consider this an invitation to try again. "Do you suppose he'll eventually understand that the table is off limits?"

"He understands that we remove him from it."

"Not quite the same thing, is it?"

"No."

Stent reached across to retrieve a knotted cloth toy from beneath the edge of the bench. Ch'eth's attention shifted immediately when Eli offered it to him, and for the next several minutes he occupied himself with the serious business of attacking something considerably less valuable than their navigation equipment.

Eli took advantage of the temporary peace to drink his caff.

Across the table, Stent was reviewing their available contracts. With the filtration equipment delivered, the docking charges settled and the package safely entrusted to the Imperial postal service, they had no particular reason to remain on Jiruus. Their departure clearance was provisionally approved, and they could leave as soon as they selected their next destination.

Unfortunately, the available work was not especially inspiring.

"Anything interesting?"

"Several possibilities. A refrigerated shipment to a refinery station, two general freight contracts and a request for replacement agricultural equipment."

"How much are they paying?" Stent quoted the first figure. Eli made a face. "For that distance?"

"The shipment is relatively small."

"The fuel isn't."

Stent moved on to the next contract. It offered a slightly better return, but required them to make a considerable deviation from the established commercial routes. The third was more promising until Eli discovered that the consignee expected delivery within a timeframe that would require them to run the engines considerably harder than he was inclined to do for the amount offered.

He was beginning to suspect that their newly acquired freedom to choose their next destination was going to prove rather less valuable than he had hoped.

"Remind me why we got into the freight business."

"It provided a legitimate source of income and a plausible explanation for our movements. Although I would have thought you knew that, considering your family has been in the business for a while."

"Right. I was hoping there might have been something about getting rich."

"Your family has apparently failed to teach you that part."

"An oversight we should probably correct."

Stent continued reviewing the listings while Eli attempted to persuade Ch'eth that the cuff of his shirt was not an appropriate substitute for a toy. The little animal had grown considerably more comfortable around them over the past few days and was now inclined to regard practically anything within reach as a potential source of entertainment. Eli had discovered that this included shoelaces, loose fabric, datapad covers and, on one particularly unfortunate occasion, the cord securing a bag of fresh vegetables.

He had not anticipated that acquiring a pet would require quite so much attention to the whereabouts of his own belongings.

Eventually Ch'eth lost interest in the shirt and curled up against Eli's stomach, apparently satisfied that he had made his position on the subject sufficiently clear.

Stent turned the datapad toward him. "This one might be worth considering."

Eli examined the listing. The destination was a small industrial installation several jumps away, with a shipment of replacement machinery awaiting collection at a nearby orbital depot. The payment was reasonable, the delivery window generous and the route would keep them within reach of several major commercial junctions. It was also a remarkably ordinary contract.

"Well, at least nobody's asking us to transport anything alive."

Stent glanced at Ch'eth. "One is sufficient."

"That's what you say now."

"I intend to continue saying it."

Eli grinned and returned his attention to the listing. He enlarged the destination details, checked the estimated fuel consumption and opened the accompanying freight notice. The machinery had apparently been sitting in a warehouse for almost three weeks while its intended recipient struggled to secure transport.

He frowned. "Three weeks?"

"According to the listing."

"That's a long time to wait for replacement equipment."

"The installation does not appear to be particularly important."

"Maybe not, but somebody's still paying storage fees while it sits there."

He scrolled through the accompanying documents. The original transport request had been issued under an Imperial industrial supply agreement, but the assigned carrier had subsequently been redirected to another destination. The machinery had then been released for collection by an independent contractor, although evidently nobody had been particularly enthusiastic about accepting the job at the advertised rate.

Eli enlarged the original reference number. "Now that's interesting."

Stent looked up. "What is?"

"The carrier that was supposed to take this shipment. Look at the classification."

Stent leaned forward to examine the record. "Military supplemental transport."

"Exactly. Which means somebody already allocated capacity to move it. Then something more important came along, the carrier got reassigned and the poor bastards at the receiving end were left wondering where their machinery had gone."

"That would explain the delay."

"It explains the delay. It doesn't explain why the replacement contract is so cheap."

Eli opened the public freight exchange and searched for similar listings. There were several, scattered across different routes, all involving industrial facilities with outstanding deliveries that had originally been assigned to military or military-contracted transport. Some had been waiting for weeks. Others carried increasingly generous premiums intended to persuade independent operators to take them.

The longer he looked, the more familiar the pattern became.

He had dealt with precisely this sort of problem aboard the Chimaera, although his position there had generally involved finding ways to avoid paying the premiums rather than collecting them.

He sat back. "Oh, you beautiful, incompetent bastards."

Stent regarded him over the datapad. "I presume you have discovered something."

"I think I have." Eli carefully relocated Ch'eth to the bench beside him, where he provided the animal with a second toy and sufficient space to continue entertaining himself without becoming involved in the conversation. Then he drew his own datapad closer and began opening the transport records he had been examining. "Remember what I told you about Imperial logistics?"

"You have told me a considerable number of things about Imperial logistics."

"All of them fascinating, I'm sure."

"Some more than others."

Eli ignored that. "The Navy uses transport capacity evaluations to determine where supplemental carriers are needed. Every regional office has to submit them, usually alongside its regular supply assessments. They're supposed to identify shortages before they become a problem, so central logistics can redistribute available capacity."

"A reasonable procedure."

"In theory. In practice, the reports go through several departments, everybody argues about priorities, and by the time anyone makes a decision, half the information is out of date." He brought up the original transport request again. "Something like this would have appeared in one of those evaluations weeks before the shipment ended up on the civilian exchange. The regional office would have flagged the shortage, identified which routes were affected and recommended additional carrier capacity. Then somebody higher up would have decided that the original transport allocation was sufficient, right up until they needed that ship somewhere else."

Stent considered the record. "And the receiving installation would then have to arrange an alternative?"

"Exactly. Except they generally don't know they're going to need one until it's already too late. The evaluation goes one way, the actual transport allocation goes another, and the poor sod responsible for receiving the machinery gets to discover that his delivery has been postponed indefinitely." Eli opened a second listing, then a third. "But if we had access to those evaluations, we wouldn't need to wait until the shortages appeared on the public freight exchange. We'd know which routes were likely to be short of transport before everybody else started bidding for the work."

Stent studied the figures for a moment. "You intend to position the Faded Glory where additional capacity is likely to be required."

"Precisely. And we don't even need to deal directly with the Navy. We can approach the civilian suppliers who are going to have trouble fulfilling their contracts. They have an obligation to deliver, their usual carriers are unavailable, and we're conveniently sitting there with an empty hold and a perfectly respectable commercial registration."

"At considerably higher rates than the ones currently being offered."

"Well, we'd hardly be doing this out of charity."

Stent looked from the three contracts on the display to the route information beside them. His expression became considerably more interested. "There would be other advantages. We could select contracts compatible with our intended direction of travel rather than accepting whichever destination offers the highest payment."

"Now you're getting it."

"And if we identify several facilities along the same route, we might be able to combine deliveries."

"Exactly!" Eli was beginning to enjoy himself enormously. There was something deeply satisfying about recognizing a familiar administrative problem and realizing that, for once, he had absolutely no obligation to solve it in the Empire's favor.

He had spent years watching transport officers argue over allocations, procurement departments complain about unavailable carriers and commanding officers demand that urgently required supplies materialize in places where nobody had thought to arrange their delivery. On the Chimaera, those problems had usually become his problems, regardless of which department had actually created them.

Apparently, the experience was finally going to pay off.

Stent, meanwhile, had already begun testing the idea against their operating costs. "How frequently are these evaluations issued?"

"Depends on the office. Monthly for regular capacity assessments, more frequently if something goes seriously wrong. Some regional commands compile weekly updates."

"And who receives them?"

"Regional transport coordination, procurement, depot administration, the various departments responsible for allocating civilian contractors. Anyone unfortunate enough to have to justify why their shipments are three weeks late."

"Are they publicly accessible?"

Eli's enthusiasm diminished slightly. "Not exactly." Stent looked at him. Eli recognized that look. He had been receiving variations of it for several years now, and it had become particularly familiar since their departure from the Ascendancy. "Before you say anything, this would be considerably easier than what I did this morning."

"I have not said anything."

"You were about to."

"I was going to ask how you intended to obtain the information."

"See? Practically the same thing."

He considered the question for a moment. The evaluations themselves were not especially sensitive. Some might contain restricted information about military deployments, but the ordinary regional transport assessments were administrative documents, intended to be circulated among a relatively large number of offices and approved contractors.

The difficulty was getting access to the relevant distribution lists. He glanced toward the tunic hanging over the back of the bench.

Stent followed his gaze. "Risky."

"Oh, come on."

"You have only just returned."

"And I've had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Well, perhaps not enjoyable, but productive. And nobody recognized me."

"That does not mean nobody will recognize you if you return."

"Not to the same office."

Eli pulled the datapad closer and opened the local administrative directory.

"There's an orbital freight coordination annex attached to the military logistics complex. I saw it on the way in. They handle supplemental contractor allocations, among other things. If there's a current regional transport evaluation available anywhere on Jiruus, they'll have a copy."

"And you propose to obtain it by impersonating an Imperial officer."

"Possibly. Although I suspect an authorized civilian contractor might actually have better luck."

Stent raised an eyebrow. "Authorized?"

"Potentially authorized."

"Eli."

"Look, we don't need anything classified. We need the kind of document they hand out to contractors so those contractors can prepare transport proposals. Half the people who receive it probably don't bother reading the thing. If I can convince somebody that we're evaluating a supplemental freight contract, they might simply give me the relevant assessment."

"And if they do not?"

"Then we find somebody else to ask."

Stent returned his attention to the local directory, apparently unconvinced that Eli's ability to talk his way through an administrative office constituted an adequate security plan. Nevertheless, he examined the freight annex's published information and eventually brought up its opening hours.

"Tomorrow is the final business day before the next dispatch cycle."

"Perfect."

"I have not agreed to anything."

"No, but you're checking their opening hours."

"Because you are clearly going to insist on pursuing this idea, and I would prefer to establish whether there is a practical reason not to."

Eli smiled.

Stent gave him an unappreciative look and continued examining the directory.

They spent the next half hour establishing exactly what they would need. A current transport evaluation would be sufficient for the initial experiment, preferably covering several neighboring sectors rather than a single local route. Eli wanted the accompanying contractor allocation summary as well, although he conceded that obtaining both documents might be unnecessarily ambitious for a first attempt.

The information would allow them to identify which facilities were experiencing recurrent delivery problems, which categories of cargo were most affected and where civilian suppliers were likely to require additional transport before the corresponding requests reached the commercial exchanges.

Stent insisted on including another consideration: they were not going to accept work merely because it paid well.

They had reserved five weeks to wait for Admiral Faro, assuming she received the package at all, and they still had no idea where she was stationed. Committing themselves to a long voyage in the wrong direction could leave them considerably farther from any useful lead by the time she answered.

Instead, they would work their way gradually between major commercial junctions, selecting routes that offered several possible onward destinations. If the mailbox produced a reply, they would be able to adjust their plans without abandoning a shipment halfway across the galaxy.

If it did not, they would at least have spent the intervening weeks earning enough money to finance their next attempt.

Eli found the arrangement considerably more appealing than the prospect of accepting another series of poorly paid contracts simply to keep themselves occupied. He enlarged the directory entry for the freight coordination annex and examined the available contact information. "Now, let's see what kind of miserable little department we're dealing with."

Stent looked up again. "I thought you intended to approach them as a civilian contractor."

"I do."

"Then I suggest you refrain from describing their department in those terms."

"Noted. I'll wait until they've handed me the paperwork."

Stent made no attempt to conceal his amusement this time.

Eli grinned and continued reading.

The annex occupied a relatively modest administrative building on the opposite side of the military logistics complex, with a separate entrance for civilian contractors and commercial representatives. Its published services included contract registration, supplemental freight allocation, transport compliance and administrative support for industrial suppliers operating under military procurement agreements.

In other words, precisely the sort of place where a sufficiently plausible civilian representative could spend an entire morning making inquiries without attracting much attention.

Even better, the directory listed a consultation service for contractors interested in applying for regional freight allocations.

Eli showed it to Stent. "There. We don't even need to invent an excuse. We're an independent commercial operator looking for additional work, and we'd like to know which routes are currently eligible for supplemental transport contracts."

"That does not necessarily entitle us to their internal evaluations."

"No, but it'll get me through the door. And once I'm talking to someone, I can explain that I need the assessment data to prepare a proper proposal. Which, incidentally, is perfectly true."

"You intend to tell them the truth?"

"Selected portions of it. I'm becoming quite respectable."

Stent considered the entry for a moment before setting the datapad down. "I would prefer that you not wear the uniform."

Eli glanced toward the tunic. "Really?"

"You have a legitimate commercial registration. There is no reason to introduce an additional false identity unless circumstances require one."

"Fair point."

"Moreover, returning to an Imperial facility under the same assumed identity less than twenty-four hours after your previous visit would be unnecessarily conspicuous."

"All right, all right. Civilian clothes. Respectable contractor. Entirely legitimate commercial inquiry."

"And if they refuse to provide the information, you leave."

Eli hesitated.

Stent noticed. "Eli."

"I heard you."

"That was not agreement."

"Fine. If they refuse, I'll leave. But I'm allowed to ask nicely first."

"I would be considerably more reassured if I believed that was your intention."

Eli smiled and closed the directory.

By then Ch'eth had abandoned his toys and was investigating the discarded tunic with renewed enthusiasm. He had managed to crawl halfway into one of the sleeves, leaving only his hindquarters and tail visible, and appeared to be making himself quite comfortable.

Stent watched him for a moment. "I believe he's looking for somewhere to sleep."

Eli glanced over his shoulder. "And apparently my uniform meets his standards."

"He seems to appreciate the fabric."

"Wonderful. I'm sure Imperial procurement would be delighted to hear that gaberwool makes excellent kivren bedding."

Stent rose and crossed to the bench. He carefully eased Ch'eth out of the sleeve, receiving a sleepy little protest for disturbing him, then cradled the animal in one hand and kissed the top of his head. "Come along. You have a perfectly good bed of your own."

He carried Ch'eth to his enclosure and settled him among the bedding. The little kivren made a halfhearted attempt to climb back up his sleeve, but Stent gently redirected him toward the old shirt he used as a nest. Ch'eth gave him a distinctly aggrieved look before burrowing into the fabric and curling up, apparently deciding that protesting required more energy than he was prepared to expend.

Stent checked the water container and quietly closed the enclosure.

"You know," Eli observed, watching the procedure, "we've managed to acquire someone who requires more supervision than either of us."

"He is still young. Besides, he was merely looking for a comfortable place to sleep."

"Well, he certainly knows how to pick one. First your shirts, now my uniform. At this rate, we'll have nothing left to wear."

Stent glanced toward the collection of Ch'eth's toys, one of which had been fashioned from a particularly unfortunate pair of his socks.

"I have already accepted that I shall need to acquire some new socks."

Eli grinned. "Giving up on recovering the old ones?"

"I believe they are beyond recovery. And he appears to have developed an unfortunate preference for them."

"Can't blame him. They're very comfortable."

Stent looked at him.

"How would you know?"

Eli took a leisurely sip of his caff. "No reason."

Stent returned to the table, collected his datapad and began putting away the documents they no longer needed. Eli watched him for a moment, then glanced at the uniform still hanging over the bench.

He supposed he ought to put it away before Ch'eth found another opportunity to investigate the sleeves.

He stood, retrieved the tunic and checked that the code cylinders were still secure. The gaberwool had acquired a few creases where he had folded it carelessly, but nothing that could not be corrected before he needed it again. Hopefully, that would not be for quite some time.

The thought was accompanied by a faint sense of disappointment that he preferred not to examine too closely.

He had enjoyed being back in uniform that morning. Not the deception itself, nor the possibility of being recognized, but the familiar ease with which he had navigated an environment he understood perfectly. There had been something reassuring about knowing exactly how to address an officer, which regulation to invoke and how to persuade an administrative department to do something it had initially refused to do.

For years, those skills had been part of his ordinary working life. Now they were something he used occasionally when circumstances required it, and apparently something he could put to considerably more profitable use than he had ever imagined.

He folded the tunic properly and carried it toward the hidden storage compartment.

Tomorrow, he thought, might turn out to be rather interesting.

And if the Empire was going to insist on maintaining an enormous administrative apparatus for the purpose of documenting problems it seemed incapable of solving, he could hardly be blamed for finding a commercial application for the information.

For once, he intended to be on the profitable side of somebody else's logistical difficulties.