“Thanks for not shooting her, Jess,” Nathan said.
“Good she didn’t raise that thing,” Jessica replied. “I would’ve dropped her without a thought.”
“I do not believe these people pose any threat to you,” Jalea scolded.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Nathan answered. “Shall we inspect the molo?” he asked, gesturing for Jalea to lead the way.
Jalea walked past them toward the stacks of bailed molo, casting a disapproving gaze toward Jessica as she and Nathan turned to follow.
“Yeah, let’s go look at the pretty mushrooms,” Jessica mumbled as she passed.
“Some fun, eh, my friend?” Vladimir mused.
As they walked away, Nathan could hear an argument arising between Tug and his wife from inside the house. They were using their native tongue, so Nathan couldn’t understand them. But he was pretty sure that Tug’s wife was not happy about her husband’s surprise guests. A quick glance at Vladimir told Nathan his friend had come to the same conclusion.
Tobin sat down at his usual table in the small cafe near Haven spaceport. Having just returned from delivering the work crew to the Aurora, it was his first opportunity to partake in more familiar cuisine. As he began his meal, a nefarious looking man sat down at the table behind him, his back facing Tobin’s.
“I trust our guests have arrived?” The stranger sitting behind him spoke softly, as if to himself, barely loud enough for Tobin to hear over the noise of the cafe.
“They have,” Tobin responded between bites. “And my payment?”
“Already in your account.”
Tobin pulled a mini data pad out of his pocket and checked his account balance, the sum of which drew a smile on his face. “Excellent,” he mumbled to himself as he placed the pad on the table and continued his meal.
“It was a large sum to provide on such short notice. You’re lucky we have assets in the system,” the man said.
“Please,” Tobin scoffed. “Do not insult me with your lies.”
“We grow impatient, Tobin. What is their location?”
“Patience. You will know soon enough.”
“I will know now, worm,” the man insisted, his still low voice taking a threatening tone.
“They are not currently accessible,” Tobin lied. The truth was he hadn’t spoken with them in several hours and did not in fact know their current whereabouts.
“Stick to the plan, my friend. Just be at my berth with your people at the proper time.”
The man grumbled. “You’d better be right about this one, Tobin.” The man finished his drink in one long gulp and departed without saying another word. Tobin continued eating his meal, an almost giddy look of anticipation of things to come on his face.
“I trust the molo meets with your approval?” Tug asked as he approached.
“Yes, I’m sure it will be fine,” Nathan said.
“How much are you asking?” It was obvious that Jalea did not think it wise for Nathan to do the negotiating.
“I’d say ten standard credits per kilogram is a fair price.”
“And there are fifty kilos per bail?” Jalea asked.
“That is correct. You can have all twenty bails, if you like.”
Jalea turned to Nathan. “It is a fair deal. I doubt you will find better.”
“How much should we buy?” Nathan had no idea how many meals that amount of Molo would provide for his crew. Nor did he have any idea how much revenue their harvesting operation would bring. He was forced to place his trust in Jalea’s understanding of the matter.
“I see no reason not to purchase the entire amount. If preserved properly, it should last you and your crew several weeks, if not longer.”
“And we can afford it?” he added in a whisper.
Jalea nodded slightly, as she turned back to Tug. “We will take the entire amount. That would be ten thousand credits, correct?”
“That is correct. How are you to make payment?”
“We are currently engaged in harvesting operations in the ring. Once we sell some of the harvest in the market tomorrow morning, we will be able to pay you for your molo.”
“That will be fine, I’m sure. But I will have to hold delivery until payment has been made. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Jalea agreed.
“I can deliver it to port, if you wish?”
“That will not be necessary,” Jalea assured him. “We will have it picked up by shuttle tomorrow.”
“If you prefer,” Tug agreed. “If you’d like, you’re all welcome to stay for dinner. I can have my wife prepare some of her delicious molo stew. Then you will taste for yourself the quality of the product you are purchasing. And for a few extra credits, I might even be able to convince her to bestow her recipe upon you.”
“We are honored by your invitation,” Jalea bowed. “Captain? I trust that would be acceptable?” Jalea flashed Nathan a look urging him to accept.
“An honor indeed,” Nathan stated graciously, trying to his best to speak in similar fashion.
“Wonderful,” Tug said. “I will inform my wife that we have guests for dinner.” Tug bowed his head before heading back to his house.
“Great,” Jessica commented. “Mushroom stew down on the farm. And to think, I joined the Fleet to get off the farm.”
“I thought you said you were from Florida?” Vladimir commented.
“What, you think Florida is all beaches and bikinis?” Jessica sniped.
“I’m not sure staying for dinner is such a great idea, Jalea,” Nathan said. “I’m not sure we should hang around that long.”
“Agreed,” Jessica added quickly, looking for any opportunity to avoid having to eat more molo.
“It would be quite rude to turn down the invitation, Captain,” Jalea warned. “And you did say that you wanted to learn more about this part of space. How did you put it, ‘take a look around’? Perhaps this might be such an opportunity.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Nathan nodded. “Sorry, Jess.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. She knew he was right, that it was a good opportunity to gather more intel. “Dinner hosts are usually chatty.”
“Jalea, will you contact Tobin and arrange for a pick-up later tonight?”
“As you wish,” she said as she stepped away.
“Jessica, set up the tight-beam mini-dish and try to make contact with the Aurora-I mean the Volander. Let them know what’s going on.”
Ensign Mendez watched as the workers carried trays of separated ores from the processor to the cargo shuttle. The workers were an odd mixture of different types of people, all men except for three women, all with no noticeable similarities between them. Although they seemed to be moving at a steady, relentless pace, the foreman continued to yell at them incessantly.
To his right, one of the flight crew for the harvesting team sat snacking on some dried substance. “Who are these people?” Mendez asked the flight technician.
“Just workers,” he replied.
“What do you mean, ‘just workers’?”
“They come from all over. Some of them come voluntarily. Others are purchased.”
“What? Like slaves?”
“Not slaves, really. They usually owe someone lots of money. They sell themselves into labor contracts in order to pay off their debt.”
“And how long are these contracts?”
“It depends on the size of their debt. Usually a few years, at least.”
Mendez shook his head as he walked away. He walked casually around the hangar bay, as he had done every so often since the harvesting operations had begun. He didn’t do it because it was necessary, but rather to give the appearance of being vigilant as a deterrent to anyone thinking of sneaking off the flight deck. But the workers had proven to be just that-workers. They appeared to have little interest in anything other than surviving their long, grueling shifts, which thus far appeared to be never-ending.
As he made his rounds, he decided to veer off his perimeter walk, instead turning inward and walking along the sorting line. A string of about ten workers stood along either side of a long conveyor belt that moved rubble from the hopper that had been unloaded from the harvester to a cargo container at the other end nearer the cargo shuttle. As the rubble passed by, the workers, who wore some type of special scanning eye-wear, picked out certain pieces, depositing them into containers at their sides. When one of the containers became full, another worker would replace it with an empty one and carry the full container off to the processor.