Before he could build up a good, angry head of steam for a retort, it occurred to him that the orbiting microwave power station, Beamer, might be in the middle of its own emergency. He could envision them handling a fire or a blowout, not able to take time to answer his radio messages.
“Jonesie, sounds like Beamer’s got a problem. Can you swing the high gain antenna over toward Earth and see if we can pick up any local signals?”
“Aye, Sir!” Her hands flew across the keyboard as she watched her displays. She listened quietly for a few minutes, her face cold sober. “Sounds like normal radio traffic to me.” She shifted frequencies several times. “If Beamer had a problem they’d be screaming for help, but all the emergency frequencies are quiet.”
“Well, then, see if you can get me a link to corporate headquarters. I need to know what’s going on!”
Several minutes later Jonesie reported: “Sir, I can’t get into our usual relay satellite. I think they changed the transponder codes.”
Jakeson knew the ship was equipped with puny radios which could be heard only by the company ’s privately owned satellite with special antennas and he glared at the microphone. “Ain’t it great working for the cheapest company in the System?” Then he stopped to consider his options.
“Try to raise Mars,” he suggested finally. “They’re closer to us anyway.”
“I’ll try, sir, but they aren’t expecting a message from us so I doubt their antenna is pointed in the right direction. Furthermore, we’re no longer following our planned trajectory since the engines shut down. Even if they wanted to call us they’d point at a place thousands of kilometers from where we actually are.”
“Well, give it a try anyway. And see if you can pick up any news broadcasts. I’m going below.”
“Aye, sir.”
Jakeson was floating in the engine maintenance bay when Jonesie reached him. “Sir, there’s a news broadcast I think you ought to hear. I’m recording it.”
Jakeson pressed the intercom button. “I’m on my way.”
He pulled himself into the bridge and she said: “I’ll rewind the recording.”
The speaker came to life: “…while stock in the tiny Martian company has tripled in value…”
Jonesie reached for the controls. “Oops. Rewound too far. It’s the next one I wanted you to hear.”
“Let it play!” Jakeson barked.
The broadcast played on: “…invented a new process for the manufacture of solar cells with twice the efficiency at one-tenth the cost. In other news, Space Ventures announced they may be having trouble with their new cargo ship, the Ben Franklin. The experimental spacecraft has not been heard from in five days. Even though her skipper is an experienced spacer, company officials fear the worst.”
Jakeson lowered his brows and thought. For the past four days he had sent in regular reports and they had been acknowledged as usual. Something was fishy. Now he found he couldn’t communicate with the company or anybody else.
“Jonesie, I think we just heard our own obituary.”
She gaped at him, astonished. He looked up and said, “Pull up the cargo manifest on your screen. I’m going to look over the ship’s papers.” When he returned to the bridge he asked: “What’s the highest value cargo we have?”
She ran a finger down the screen. “Well, for a single lot about a third of the cargo mass is power system components for the Mars colony. After that, um, the medical equipment is pretty expensive. The rest is construction stuff to expand the colony. It’s things they can’t make yet for themselves.”
Jakeson studied the ship’s papers for a moment. “You know, Jonesie, we’re more valuable dead than alive. Those power system components in the cargo bays are just solar cells, and with the new ones coming on the market they aren’t worth a tenth of what the company paid for ’em.” He waved a sheaf of papers in her face. “But the cargo is fully insured and the ship, too. If we reach Mars then the company loses a bundle.”
“Sir, they wouldn’t—”
“I think they already did.”
He pressed the intercom button. “Smitty, get up here. Have I got an engineering job for you!” When the engineer arrived, Jakeson asked him: “Smitty, did you ever wonder why they collect solar power in Earth orbit and beam it to the ship rather than mount the solar collectors on the ship?”
“Yes, sir, I did. I believe the answer was that they could switch power from ship to ship more easily and they could sell unused power while we were docked and loading.”
“Yes, I bought that excuse myself. But I think the real reason was to exercise control. They have the on/off switch in their hands.”
Smitty sighed, and then brightened after a moment as he scribbled some notes on a piece of paper. “I think I may have a solution to our little problem.” He held up the note. “These are just some preliminary calculations, but I think we can vacuum-weld the solar collectors in cargo to the microwave antenna and power the ship’s engines. We’ll get only about half the thrust but we’ve got enough consumable supplies to get to Mars.”
Jakeson grinned. “Exactly my own idea but I hadn’t carried the design as far as you have. Get working on it. Use any available crew.” He turned to his first officer, “Jonesie, see if you can’t rig one of our radios to the high gain antenna. At some point we’re going to have to talk to corporate headquarters. And keep an ear on the news. I expect they’ll have a nice funeral service for us and I don’t want to miss that!”
A month after her scheduled arrival, the ship sidled up to Phobos Station and startled the Mars traffic controllers.
“Good to see you, Franklin! We thought you were lost.”
“Just a little detour, Phobos,” Jakeson replied. “We took the scenic route.”
Jonesie interrupted: “Sir, I have an urgent call from corporate headquarters on Mars.”
“Tell ’em to wait.”
“Aye, sir!”
Jakeson got himself a squeeze-bulb of coffee, paced the ship and thought hard before returning to the bridge to accept the call.
“Put ’em through.”
The video screen lit up to show a fat little man sitting there with a forced smile on his face. “Captain Jakeson! What a pleasant surprise to see the ship and you, alive.”
Jakeson had met this corporate hack twice before. Deevers was a mid-level manager in charge of acquisitions who didn’t have a sincere bone in his body. After the earlier meetings, he had wanted to wash his hands. It felt good to be on the offensive.
He leaned forward and smiled back. “I understand that your company considers us dead. Do you have business with us?”
Deevers appeared at a loss for words. “Um, why yes! We thank you for delivering our cargo to Mars orbit.”
“ ‘Our’ cargo? Let me cut to the bottom line. You and your corporation no longer own either this ship or its cargo. Two days ago you received the largest insurance payment ever for an ‘irretrievable’ shipping loss. Legally, the ship was then salvaged by us.”
Deevers sputtered. “But, but, you are our loyal employees. You were working for Ventures at the time.”
Jakeson smiled. “Loyal employees? I bet you cut off our salaries on the same day you cut off the microwave beam!”
“Now please, Captain, I’m sure we can clear up this little misunderstanding. I’d like to—”
“CAN IT! We have no business to conduct.” Jakeson reached for the cut-off switch.”
“Captain, if you’re claiming the ship? That’s mutiny!”
Jakeson winked at Jonesie. “No, this is not mutiny. It’s only mutiny if the crew revolts against the commanding officer, not if the commander revolts against the powers that be. I am being insubordinate, not mutinous. There’s a difference.” He grinned.