Valt was clearly excited, but he also looked thoughtful. "I see your point, Captain. Every Astrogator knows there are "common" recal systems that most people use. We would have to avoid those, but I think I can do it.
"We're on the outer edge of the Alliance. We will have to cross the width of the entire Alliance, plus a significant portion of the Empire. It's a very long haul.
"But don't forget, we're safe while we're Supralight; the only real risk would be when we have to drop into normal space to recalculate, recalibrate, and reorient between jumps. From here to Alpha, we'd probably have to stop about twelve times; and it takes about three hours to recalculate and reorient for the next jump. So, we'd really be vulnerable for twelve periods of about three hours each, on the most direct route. If we detoured a bit, we could avoid the most popular recalibration points, and stick to ones that are rarely used. That would reduce that threat, but it would mean maybe fifteen jumps instead of twelve. While we are on Alpha or on the way back, there really shouldn't be much risk. On Alpha, the money will be in a bank, and on the way back, well, nobody hijacks a load of bookchips. I think that a million credit profit is worth some risk. I'm for it!"
Tor was writhing uncomfortably in his chair. "Uh, Captain? Uh, could you tell me why it takes so long to recalibrate and reorient? I mean, uh, what does an Astrogator do, anyway?"
Valt threw up his hands. "Aw, Crap, not again!" he said disgustedly.
Jirik frowned. "Stow it, Valt. In fact, why don't you explain to Tor what you do?"
Valt shrugged, but his flush and satisfied smirk revealed his pleasure. "Oh, all right. Look, kid, when you were younger, did they have any kind of ball games on that farm world of yours? I mean games using a small spherical object that's either thrown or hit?"
"Oh, sure," Tor replied. "We had a bunch of them. Why?"
"Well," Valt replied, "Let's say that you're back on that mudball of yours, and you're super strong. Someone draws a circle a meter in diameter on the ground a kilometer away, and the object is to throw the ball and hit the circle. Well, that's a simple explanation of a jump, the way they explained it to us when I first started Astrogation school. Now, obviously, you can't change the ball's direction once you've thrown it. That means that you have to aim very carefully before you throw. That's what I do . . . I pick out a target star as far away toward our destination as I can be sure of hitting, then calibrate the length of the jump required to get there, and reorient the ship so that it's headed in exactly the right direction. In other words, I aim it. But, it's not enough just to hit the target system. We don't want to break out inside a planet or star, or another ship. That means that I have to calculate emergence at the outer edge of the system." Valt was warming to his theme, and Jirik started to interrupt when Valt continued. "But, that's not enough, either. I have to try to calculate an emergence point that will be on a tangent, so that we won't have to maneuver across the whole system on inertial drive." He was excitedly beginning to describe the almost insurmountable problems he managed to surmount on every jump when Jirik interrupted.
"I think he gets the general idea, Valt." Jirik said. "We have to wrap this meeting up. I hope that Valt helped you understand what's involved in astrogating, Tor."
Tor nodded uncertainly. "Well, I s-s-still have a lot of questions, but I'll read up on it."
Jirik nodded. "Good. Then, let's get back to the subject. What do you think about the book deal?"
Well, sir," Tor replied deferentially, "I know that I'm the new kid, and all, and maybe I don't know much about space trade, but I became a spacer to see things and do things. This looks to me like a little adventure and a big payoff. I don't want to spend the next five or ten years jumping grain from system to system to build up our capital."
"I'm not wild about the idea of hauling low-value cargo for the next few years, either," Jirik replied, "But I'd rather be alive and do that than be dead chasing a million-credit payoff. Bran, what do you think?"
Bran had been listening carefully, his long face creased in thought. "Well, Captain," he answered slowly, "The risks are high, but I agree with the others. I think that the rewards are commensurate with the risks. We can take precautions that will limit the risk of piracy or hijacking; the type of precautions we'd use with any very-high-value cargo. I vote for it."
Jirik sighed deeply. "Well, that's it, then. Even with my two votes as Captain, I'm outvoted. I'll contact Fanlin first thing in the morning to start negotiations. In the meantime, it's vital that we keep this as quiet as possible. Our lives may depend on each of you keeping it secret. Aside from Fanlin and Cony, the only people who know about us moving millions of credits are on Wayoff and in this compartment. Now, I can't do anything about those people on Wayoff but hope that they'll keep their mouths shut. But if I find out that any of you even hinted to anyone else about this deal, you'll wish you were never born!"
Bran hung back as the others filed out. He grinned sardonically at Jirik. "Tell me, Captain, what would you have done if Tor or Valt had voted against the deal? We both know that there was no real option. We had to go for it, or Tomys would have shoved it down our throats!"
Jirik grinned back. "I didn't think I was taking too much of a risk. Tor is still romantic enough to relish the adventure, He's probably bouncing off the bulkheads with excitement right now. As for Valt, he's always short of credits. It takes a lot of them to support those in-port orgies of his. Waving a share of a million-credit profit in his face guaranteed his vote. Of course," Jirik continued, "I knew that you'd vote for it, since you knew we'd be forced to do it anyway."
"And you get to play the Reluctant Captain," Bran add sarcastically. "I presume that this way, if anything goes you can always say, 'I told you so'."
Jirik grinned. "Bran, you know me better than that. I anything goes wrong, 1 doubt if any of us will be around to say, 'I told you so'. I just wanted it to look democratic. If an Actionist questions Tor or Valt, I want them to find that crew voted for it, not that someone had jammed it down their throats."
Bran's head jerked. "You think that they will? Question Tor and Valt, I mean?"
"Hell, yes!" Jirik replied vehemently. "Look, Bran, if Cony really is the head of the Actionists on Boondock, they, and therefore the terrorists, will know everything there is to know about the deal as soon as we do. They'll want to know what's going on on our side of it. If I had let Tor and Valt know we were being forced to accept it, there's a very real risk that the terrorists would see it as a trap, and decide that killing us would be easier than trying to figure out what we're up to.
"Tor doesn't worry me too much. Anybody talking to him is going to learn that there is something going on. It would take torture to make him tell what it was. Valt is a different case. Once he starts drinking, he'll spill any damned thing he knows. So far, what he knows is exactly what we want him to know. As soon as he hits town, the terrorists will know that I opposed the deal, but was overruled. That is, provided you ever let him get back into town!"
Bran assumed a wounded look. "Me, Captain? Why, I don't prevent poor Valt from going into town during his off hours. All I do is work his ass off 16 standard hours a day in 1.4G. Can I help it if the man decides that he's too tired?" He lapsed into seriousness. "Really, though, Captain, I'm going to be running out of work for him soon. The last load of thorium is due tomorrow. Once we get that stowed, we'll be ready to lift whenever you close the bookchip deal. With the load all buttoned up, Valt won't have much of anything to do except work out takeoff trajectories and outbound courses, and he won't be able to do much of that until we can establish a liftoff time. I'm afraid that Valt is once again going to find himself with time on his hands; and that means drinking time.