Chapter 168 · The Other List

The Orbital Freight Coordination Annex was considerably less impressive than its name suggested.

It occupied a squat administrative building at the edge of the Jiruus military logistics complex, between a vehicle depot and an enormous warehouse whose loading bays were currently occupied by a line of civilian cargo haulers. A faded sign identified the main entrance, while a smaller one directed commercial contractors toward a separate reception area around the side.

Eli studied the building from across the street.

"Well, that's encouraging."

Stent followed his gaze. "The architecture?"

"The complete absence of anything resembling enthusiasm. Exactly what I was hoping for."

They had arrived shortly after the beginning of the morning shift, early enough to avoid the worst of the traffic but late enough that the staff would already be occupied with their regular duties. Eli had spent most of the previous evening examining the annex's published services, contractor registration requirements and available freight notices. He now possessed a perfectly legitimate reason to request information about supplemental transport contracts, together with several increasingly elaborate alternatives that Stent had insisted he discard.

He was wearing civilian clothes, his recently trimmed hair neatly combed and his jacket sufficiently respectable that he might plausibly be mistaken for the representative of a moderately successful shipping company. His datapad contained the Faded Glory's current commercial registration, certificates, cargo capacity specifications and a brief summary of their recent contracts.

He also had a list of questions that were entirely reasonable for an independent operator to ask.

Unfortunately, the answers he actually wanted were not among the information the annex advertised to the public.

"One last time," Stent said. "You are here to inquire about supplemental freight opportunities. If the office provides the relevant assessments, you collect them. If they decline, you leave."

"You're beginning to sound like you don't trust me."

"I trust you to recognize an opportunity. I am less confident that you will recognize when to abandon one."

"That's an outrageous accusation."

Stent regarded him without comment.

Eli sighed. "All right. No heroic improvisation, no impersonating anyone, and absolutely no attempting to gain access to anything that might result in somebody calling military security."

"The last condition is particularly important."

"I gathered."

He checked the time. The annex's public consultation hours had begun fifteen minutes earlier, and a small number of contractors were already making their way toward the entrance.

Stent would remain outside. There was no particular advantage in having two people ask for information that one could obtain, and a human civilian contractor was sufficiently unremarkable that Eli had a reasonable chance of passing through the entire building without attracting attention.

A human accompanied by a Chiss would be another matter.

Eli adjusted the strap of his datapad case. "Give me an hour."

"Forty-five minutes."

"You're negotiating now?"

"If you require longer, send me a message."

"Yes, Commander."

Stent's expression suggested that Eli was enjoying himself rather more than the circumstances warranted.

He probably was.

The reception area consisted of six chairs, two information terminals and a service counter behind which a middle-aged woman was engaged in an apparently unsuccessful attempt to make a label printer work.

Eli took one look at the printer and decided that the Imperial Navy had changed considerably less than he had hoped.

He approached the counter. "Good morning."

The woman raised a finger without looking up. "One moment."

"Of course."

He waited while she extracted a stubborn sheet of flimsi from the machine, examined the resulting damage and deposited the remains in an overflowing disposal container. Then she returned to her terminal and finally acknowledged his presence. "Registration?"

"Commercial inquiry. Supplemental freight allocations."

"Company?"

"Independent operator. Faded Glory."

She entered the name and studied the resulting record. "You're already registered with the commercial port authority."

"That's right. We've just completed a delivery here and we're evaluating possible onward contracts."

"Current freight allocations are on the public exchange."

"I've seen those. I'm interested in the regional supplemental program."

The woman looked at him properly for the first time. "That's handled upstairs."

"Excellent."

"You'll need a consultation appointment."

"Of course."

She turned her terminal toward him. The earliest available appointment was in nine days.

Eli considered the screen. "Nine days?"

"Very busy at the moment."

"I can see that."

He looked past her toward the reception area's internal doors. A uniformed transport officer was emerging with a stack of datapads under one arm, already engaged in a spirited argument with someone over his comlink. Behind him, a civilian carrying an enormous document case was attempting to explain to a second receptionist that he had been sent to the wrong department twice that morning.

It was a familiar sight. Eli almost felt nostalgic.

He turned back to the woman. "Look, I don't actually need a full consultation. I'm not here to submit a contract proposal. I just need to establish which transport categories are currently eligible for supplemental allocations. If they're compatible with our vessel, I'll submit the application properly. If they aren't, there's no point wasting anyone's time."

"Current allocations are on the public exchange," she repeated.

"Yes, but those are the outstanding tenders. I'm looking for the planning assessments."

She gave him the sort of look generally reserved for people who insisted on making an already complicated morning worse.

Eli smiled apologetically. "There's probably a regional capacity summary. Maybe an operator advisory, if they've issued one. Anything that identifies which routes are being opened to additional civilian carriers."

The woman glanced at the malfunctioning printer, then at the small queue forming behind him. "Second floor. Contractor Services. Ask for Dalen."

"Thank you. Much appreciated."

"Don't tell him I sent you."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Eli collected a visitor's badge and headed for the internal doors before she could reconsider. The badge got him as far as the second floor, where the administrative atmosphere deteriorated considerably.

Contractor Services appeared to consist of several overworked employees attempting to reconcile procurement requirements with a transport allocation system that had apparently decided to stop functioning properly at precisely the wrong moment. Two officers were arguing over the assignment of a civilian bulk carrier, someone had misplaced a requisition for refrigerated storage units, and a young lieutenant was demanding to know why a scheduled shipment had been removed from the weekly dispatch list.

Nobody appeared particularly interested in Eli. He considered that an excellent beginning.

A sign beside the reception desk directed visitors toward Consultation Room Three. Eli found it occupied by a civilian representative who was trying to convince a tired-looking administrative officer that his company could not be held responsible for a delivery window that had been altered after the cargo was collected.

The officer listened for approximately thirty seconds before pointing out that the contract specified the delivery window as amended, not as originally issued.

Eli decided to wait until the discussion had concluded.

Fifteen minutes later, the civilian emerged looking murderous.

Eli stepped inside. "Morning. Are you Dalen?"

The officer looked up from his terminal. He was a human of perhaps forty, with thinning hair, a lieutenant's insignia and the expression of a man who had begun regretting his career several years earlier and had yet to find an acceptable alternative. "Depends who's asking."

"Independent freight operator. I'm looking for information about the supplemental transport program."

Dalen glanced at the visitor's badge. "Registration number?"

Eli supplied it.

The officer entered the number, waited for the commercial registry to respond and then frowned at the screen. "'Faded Glory.' General freight. Medium-capacity independent. You're not on our approved contractor list."

"Not yet. That's why I'm here."

"Applications are handled through procurement."

"I know. But procurement won't approve a supplemental carrier application without an intended operating region, and I don't particularly want to commit to a region until I know where you actually need additional capacity."

Dalen looked at him for a moment. "That's what the public tenders are for."

"Those tell me where you needed capacity three weeks ago."

The officer's expression changed slightly.

Eli continued before he could decide whether the remark was offensive. "Look, I picked up a freight notice yesterday for replacement machinery that's been sitting in storage because the original carrier was reassigned. That's the sort of job we're interested in, but it makes no sense for us to travel halfway across the sector to collect one shipment unless there's enough additional work in the area to justify the trip."

"Then don't accept it."

"Exactly. Which is why I'd like to know where the shortages are developing rather than wait until somebody gets desperate enough to advertise them."

Dalen leaned back in his chair. "You're asking for the regional transport assessment."

"If that's what you're calling it, yes."

"That's an internal document."

Eli was prepared for that answer. He was considerably less prepared for the way the officer said it, with the faint irritation of someone who suspected the distinction between internal and external documents was an administrative nuisance rather than a matter of particular importance. "Is there a contractor version?"

"There's supposed to be."

"Excellent."

"Hasn't been updated."

"Ah."

Dalen returned his attention to the terminal.

Eli waited.

The officer appeared to regard the conversation as concluded.

"Would it help if I submitted a provisional application first?" Eli asked.

Dalen stopped typing. "You're not applying for anything specific."

"Because I don't know which operating region to select."

"Then select several."

"And have procurement reject the application because we're a single-vessel operator with an unrealistic service area?"

Dalen looked up again.

Eli offered him a sympathetic smile. "I've dealt with procurement departments before."

"Apparently."

It was a small opening, but Eli recognized it immediately.

He leaned forward slightly. "Honestly, Lieutenant, I don't want to waste your time. I'm looking for three or four neighboring routes with enough outstanding demand to keep us occupied for a few weeks. Industrial equipment, general supplies, whatever needs moving. We have a perfectly serviceable ship, we're already here, and I'd rather make a proper offer than spend the next month competing for individual freight notices with every other independent operator in the sector."

Dalen considered him for several seconds.

Then he turned back to the terminal. "Wait here."

Eli watched him leave through the office's rear door.

So far, so good.

He had reached the relevant department, established that the document existed and persuaded an officer that his request was sufficiently reasonable to warrant further consideration. None of that required him to assume an identity he did not possess, and if Dalen returned with the publicly available contractor advisory, Eli would have no difficulty thanking him and leaving.

Unfortunately, he rather suspected the publicly available contractor advisory would be almost entirely useless.

He glanced at his chrono.

Twenty-seven minutes.

Stent was going to love that.

Dalen returned carrying a datapad and accompanied by a considerably younger officer whose expression suggested that she regarded civilian contractors as an unfortunate but occasionally necessary complication of military logistics. "This is Lieutenant Varis," he said. "She handles regional contractor allocations."

Eli stood. "Pleasure to meet you."

Varis examined his visitor's badge. "You're the independent operator asking for our capacity assessment?"

"That's right."

"Why?"

It was a reasonable question, although her tone suggested she had already decided she would dislike the answer.

Eli repeated his explanation, this time emphasizing the commercial difficulties associated with committing a single vessel to an under-served route. Varis listened without interrupting, then asked for the Faded Glory's cargo specifications.

He handed over the datapad.

She examined the registration, the vessel's cargo capacity and the insurance certificate. "Your last completed contract was industrial filtration equipment?"

"Delivered yesterday."

"Thirty-eight standard cargo units?"

"Yes."

"That's nearly your entire available capacity."

"It was a particularly convenient shipment."

Varis continued reading.

Eli was becoming increasingly conscious of the fact that his entire legitimate commercial history was now displayed on a terminal inside an Imperial military installation. There was nothing particularly incriminating about their current registration, but their movements over the previous few weeks were rather more interesting than those of the average independent freight crew.

He had been counting on the annex having no particular reason to investigate them.

Now an officer who dealt professionally with civilian contractors was examining his paperwork in considerable detail.

Varis reached the end of the registration summary. "You're a new operator."

"Newly registered vessel, yes."

"Previous commercial experience?"

"Family business. Freight and general cargo."

"Which company?"

Eli gave her the name of his family's shipping enterprise.

She appeared to recognize it. "Lysatra?"

"That's right."

"You're a long way from home."

"You should see the fuel bill." Eli said, smiling.

Dalen, standing beside her, gave a brief snort.

Varis was less easily amused. "Why aren't you operating through your family company?"

"Because I'd like to retain the profits from my own contracts. And you know how working with the family is sometimes…" Eli made an amused grimace.

That was close enough to the truth to require no particular effort.

She considered him for a moment longer before handing back the datapad. "Very well. The current contractor advisory is available through the procurement portal. It identifies the operating regions accepting new applications and the general categories of freight involved."

"I've seen it. What I'm trying to establish is whether any of those regions have enough actual demand to justify relocating the ship."

"You understand that we can't release military transport schedules."

"Of course. I don't need them. I'm interested in civilian overflow."

Varis folded her arms. "That's determined on a case-by-case basis."

"Which is precisely the problem. If you want independent operators to position themselves where you need them, they need enough information to make a commercial decision. Otherwise, we're all going to sit around the major freight exchanges waiting for someone to advertise a sufficiently profitable job."

Eli knew he was pushing his luck.

He also knew that he had identified something Varis was likely to find irritating for entirely professional reasons. She was responsible for civilian contractor allocations, and it was perfectly plausible that she spent a considerable portion of her working day dealing with the consequences of insufficient available capacity.

Her expression suggested he had not entirely misjudged her.

"Independent operators tend to disappear the moment a better contract becomes available."

"Naturally. That's why we're independent!"

Dalen laughed. Varis did not.

Eli decided to moderate his approach. "But there's no reason we can't reach an arrangement that benefits both sides. Give us a reliable sequence of contracts, and we'll have every incentive to complete them. What I can't do is commit to maintaining availability in a particular region based on a public notice that hasn't been updated since the beginning of the month."

Varis studied him.

Then she turned toward Dalen. "Has Procurement finally approved the revised contractor allocation summary?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"They want the outstanding priority revisions incorporated before publication."

"Which revisions?"

"Apparently they haven't decided."

Varis closed her eyes briefly.

Eli remained silent. It was a magnificent performance of professional restraint, if he did say so himself.

After several seconds, Varis opened the datapad she had been carrying and began scrolling through a document. "We have a provisional assessment," she said. "It's intended for internal planning, but the civilian overflow categories are already established. I can provide the relevant sections if you submit a formal expression of interest."

Eli resisted the temptation to smile. "That would be extremely helpful."

"You'll need to register the intended operating corridor and demonstrate that your vessel is available within the next ten standard days."

"That shouldn't be a problem."

"And there's a performance deposit."

Ah.

There it was.

"How much?"

"Five hundred credits."

Eli considered the figure.

Five hundred credits was not going to bankrupt them, but it was considerably more than he had intended to spend acquiring a document that might or might not prove useful.

"Refundable?"

"Provided you submit a qualifying transport proposal within the specified period. If you withdraw the application or fail to meet the availability requirements, the deposit is forfeited."

"Naturally."

Varis gave him a form.

"Complete that. Dalen will process the registration and issue the relevant assessment."

Eli accepted the datapad.

For the first time that morning, he was genuinely uncertain whether he ought to continue.

He could obtain the information. He had persuaded the right people that there was a perfectly reasonable commercial justification for supplying it, and the assessment was apparently available through a legitimate administrative process.

But accepting the arrangement would mean registering the Faded Glory for a provisional military procurement program.

It would create a record of their interest in several Imperial transport corridors and oblige them to submit a qualifying proposal within ten days if they wanted their deposit back. Their commercial registration would also be available to whatever department subsequently reviewed their application.

Under ordinary circumstances, none of that would be especially concerning.

Their circumstances were not ordinary.

He glanced at his chrono. Forty-one minutes. Stent was almost certainly composing a particularly unpleasant message.

Eli examined the application.

The form required a commercial registration number, proof of insurance, a declaration of available cargo capacity and the selection of at least one operating corridor. It also required the applicant to acknowledge that the provisional assessment might contain information subject to distribution restrictions.

That last provision gave him pause. "Lieutenant, just to clarify. The material you're releasing doesn't include restricted military traffic?"

"No. Those sections are removed from contractor copies."

"And the document can be retained by the applicant?"

"Yes, provided it isn't redistributed."

Eli nodded. He was not entirely reassured, but at least he was no longer contemplating walking out of the building carrying an internal Imperial document he had no legitimate reason to possess.

He selected the two corridors that seemed most promising from the public advisory. Then he authorized the deposit. Five hundred credits disappeared from their operating account.

He could practically feel Stent's reaction from the distance.

By the time the assessment reached his datapad, Eli had been inside the annex for almost an hour and a half.

The document was considerably more useful than he had anticipated.

It included projected supplemental transport requirements for four neighboring operating regions, a list of civilian freight categories experiencing persistent delays, anticipated contractor shortfalls and several provisional allocations awaiting final authorization. The most sensitive details had been removed, but the document retained enough information for a competent freight operator to reconstruct a fairly accurate picture of where additional capacity would be required.

Better still, it included references to outstanding commercial tenders that had not yet appeared on the public exchange.

Eli skimmed the first few pages while Dalen processed his application.

Then he reached the regional variance table.

He stopped.

There were three installations in the same general operating corridor with significant outstanding transport requirements. Two needed industrial components and replacement machinery. The third had been designated as a redistribution point for several smaller facilities whose regular civilian carriers had been reassigned.

Their projected shortages overlapped almost perfectly. He enlarged the accompanying route diagram. Beautiful.

"Everything satisfactory?" Dalen asked.

Eli looked up. "Very much so."

"Then you'll need to submit your proposal through the procurement portal. The application reference is attached to the assessment."

"Understood."

"And make sure you use the correct operating corridor. If you select the wrong one, they'll reject the whole thing and you'll have to start again."

"I'll be careful."

Dalen gave him the weary look of a man who had heard that assurance far too many times.

Eli thanked him, collected his belongings and headed for the exit. He had almost reached the stairs when his comlink vibrated.

A message from Stent. ‘Your consultation appears to have exceeded its intended duration.’

Eli smiled and typed a reply. ‘All under control. On my way out.’

The response arrived almost immediately. ‘You have said that before’.

Eli decided not to answer until he was safely outside.

Stent was waiting at a small café opposite the annex, occupying a table from which he had a clear view of the building's main entrance and most of the surrounding street.

A cup of tea sat beside his datapad.

He looked up as Eli approached. "One hour and twenty-seven minutes."

"Good morning to you, too."

"I was beginning to consider whether you had been detained."

"Not even close."

Eli sat down, ordered a caff and placed his datapad on the table.

Stent examined him. "What happened?"

"Well, the good news is that we now have a current regional transport assessment, including projected civilian overflow requirements, contractor shortfalls and several provisional allocations that haven't appeared on the public exchange yet."

Stent's expression changed immediately. "And the bad news?"

Eli hesitated. "I may have registered us for the supplemental contractor program."

"May have?"

"Well, I actually have."

Stent regarded him in silence.

Eli decided to get the remaining details out of the way before the silence became unbearable. "There's a five-hundred-credit performance deposit. Refundable if we submit a qualifying proposal within ten days." Stent closed his eyes. "Oh, don't do that. It's an excellent opportunity."

"You have committed us to an Imperial procurement program."

"A provisional one. And we're perfectly entitled to participate as a legitimate commercial operator."

"Which will presumably involve additional administrative scrutiny."

"Some. Not necessarily much."

Stent opened his eyes.

Eli sighed. "All right, yes. There's a risk. But I didn't use a false identity, I didn't access anything restricted, and I didn't give them any information they couldn't have obtained from the commercial registry anyway."

"You also told me you would leave if they refused to provide the assessment."

"They didn't refuse."

"They required you to register for a program you had not intended to join."

"Technically, that's not a refusal."

Stent gave him a look of such concentrated disapproval that Eli finally surrendered.

"Fine. I improvised. But before you decide this was a terrible idea, have a look at what we got." He transferred the assessment.

Stent opened the document, examined its classification and began reading.

Eli took the opportunity to drink his newly arrived caff.

He watched Stent work through the first pages, comparing the projected transport requirements with the operating regions and estimated delivery windows. His expression gradually changed from disapproval to interest. Then he reached the variance table.

Eli smiled into his cup. "See it?"

Stent enlarged the route diagram. "These three installations."

"Exactly."

"Their projected shortages overlap."

"And their existing civilian carriers are committed elsewhere."

Stent scrolled down. "The redistribution point has provisionally approved additional capacity for the next dispatch cycle."

"Which means somebody's going to need a ship."

"A medium-capacity general freighter would be sufficient for at least two of the identified requirements."

Eli leaned forward. "And if we're clever about how we arrange the collections, we could do all three."

Stent studied the diagram for several more seconds. Then he turned the datapad around. "We should return to the ship."

Eli grinned. "That's what I've been saying!"

Tee greeted them at the top of the Faded Glory's ramp with an indignant series of beeps that Eli interpreted as a complaint about being left in charge of the ship for most of the morning.

Ch'eth, meanwhile, was asleep.

He had apparently exhausted himself investigating the various possibilities offered by his enclosure and was now curled beneath his bedding with only the end of his tail visible.

Stent checked on him before joining Eli in the common room.

By then, Eli had connected the transport assessment to the table's larger display and was examining the three installations that had caught their attention.

The first, on Hijado, was an industrial depot on a relatively minor route, currently awaiting several consignments of replacement processing equipment. Its regular freight carrier had been reassigned to a higher-priority military contract, leaving the depot with insufficient capacity to meet its scheduled deliveries.

The second, on Phindar, was a manufacturing complex several jumps farther along the same corridor. It had a backlog of finished components awaiting transport to a regional redistribution station.

The third was a redistribution station itself, on Quelli, near the Mandalore sector, which had recently been designated as a collection point for deliveries to several smaller facilities in the surrounding systems.

All three had been identified in the assessment as likely to require additional civilian transport within the next two weeks.

More importantly, the projected demand was concentrated along a corridor that would take them toward a major commercial junction rather than farther into the industrial districts they had been trying to leave behind.

Eli was delighted.

"We pick up the processing equipment here, deliver it to the first depot and collect the finished components from the manufacturing complex on the way through. Then we take those to the redistribution station."

Stent studied the route. "That assumes the first delivery can be completed before the second collection window closes."

"We've got a margin of nearly two days."

"According to the projected schedule. We have not yet confirmed the availability of either shipment."

"True. But we can contact both suppliers before submitting the proposal. If the collection windows don't line up, we adjust."

Stent brought up the Faded Glory's cargo specifications and began calculating their available capacity. "The processing equipment would occupy approximately half the hold."

"Which leaves enough room for additional freight if we find something suitable."

"The manufactured components are considerably smaller."

"Exactly. We wouldn't be carrying both shipments at once for very long, and the second collection point is practically on our route."

Stent enlarged the redistribution station's projected requirements. "There is also an anticipated shortage of outbound transport from the station."

Eli looked up. "How much?"

"Insufficient information. The assessment identifies several outstanding consignments, but the destinations have not yet been finalized."

"Still, it means we might be able to arrange a return load."

"Possibly."

Eli rubbed his hands together. "Now we're talking!"

Stent continued calculating, with Tee’s help, occasionally adjusting the route to account for fuel consumption, docking fees and the different delivery windows. He was considerably less inclined than Eli to regard projected demand as guaranteed income, and insisted on distinguishing between contracts they could reasonably expect to obtain and those that existed only as possibilities.

It was an irritating but necessary exercise.

By the time they finished the first calculation, they had identified a route that would require approximately twelve standard days, assuming ordinary traffic conditions and no significant delays.

The projected gross income was considerably higher than anything they had earned on their recent individual contracts.

Eli examined the total.

"That's almost indecent."

"It is a projection."

"It's a very attractive projection."

"It assumes we obtain both primary contracts, complete the deliveries within their respective windows and incur no unexpected expenses."

"You're determined to ruin this for me."

"I am attempting to establish whether it will actually be profitable."

Eli leaned back and allowed Stent to continue.

The figures were encouraging even after they accounted for fuel, port charges, insurance and the possibility of spending an additional day waiting for the second shipment. They could recover the performance deposit through a qualifying proposal, establish themselves as an approved supplemental contractor and potentially obtain access to subsequent regional assessments.

That last point was particularly valuable.

One successful contract might provide them with a legitimate reason to receive updated transport information without requiring Eli to spend another morning negotiating with an Imperial administrative department.

"There's one thing I don't like," Stent said eventually.

"Only one?"

"The proposed route takes us toward the outer edge of the region covered by the assessment. We would be committing ourselves to a twelve-day journey without knowing what work is available beyond the redistribution station."

Eli examined the map.

The station lay at the intersection of several commercial routes, including a major corridor toward the neighboring sector. It was a reasonable destination in its own right, with sufficient commercial traffic that they were unlikely to find themselves stranded without onward employment.

Nevertheless, Stent had a point.

Their objective was not simply to maximize their earnings. They were supposed to spend the next five weeks remaining sufficiently flexible to respond if Admiral Faro contacted them.

The last thing they needed was to accept a series of increasingly profitable contracts that carried them farther and farther from any useful location.

"All right. Let's look at it the other way around."

Eli cleared the proposed route and brought up the wider regional map.

"Forget the money for a minute. Where would we want to be in two weeks if we had absolutely no idea what was going to happen next?"

Stent considered the question. "At a major commercial junction with reliable HoloNet access, multiple onward routes and sufficient available freight to avoid committing ourselves prematurely."

“Then Quelli is perfect. It’s by the Perlemian Hyperroute. See?”

Stent hummed in agreement.

"And if Faro answers, we can head wherever we need to go without spending another week trying to reach a suitable departure point."

"Assuming she provides a useful destination."

"Let's allow ourselves a little optimism."

Stent adjusted the route again.

This time, instead of treating the three installations as their objective, they treated the commercial junction as their destination and examined which freight opportunities would allow them to reach it profitably.

The distinction proved useful.

They could accept the first two contracts without committing themselves to the third. If the redistribution station had suitable onward freight available when they arrived, they could take it. Otherwise, they would continue toward the junction and look for work there.

It would reduce their projected earnings, but it would also preserve considerably more flexibility.

Eli studied the revised figures.

"Well, it's still a damn sight better than anything on the public exchange."

"Provided the contracts are awarded to us."

"You're going to keep saying that until they are, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Eli grinned and began preparing the inquiries.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon contacting suppliers, comparing delivery requirements and establishing which of the projected transport shortages had already developed into actual commercial problems.

The results were encouraging.

The industrial depot's equipment supplier was delighted to hear from an independent operator with available capacity and an interest in the relevant route. Their original carrier had cancelled its allocation three days earlier, and the supplier had been attempting to arrange alternative transport ever since.

The manufacturing complex was considerably less forthcoming.

Its shipping coordinator explained that the finished components were ready for collection but that the delivery contract included a penalty for late arrival. He was willing to consider an independent carrier, provided Eli could demonstrate that the Faded Glory had sufficient capacity and a credible schedule.

Eli supplied both.

The coordinator promised to review the proposal and respond the following morning.

That left them with one confirmed opportunity, one promising possibility and an uncomfortable amount of money tied up in a provisional contractor registration.

Eli considered the situation a substantial success.

Stent remained cautiously optimistic.

"Are you ever actually pleased with anything?" Eli asked as they finished preparing the final cost estimate.

"Frequently."

"Could have fooled me."

"I am pleased that you obtained the assessment without being arrested."

"That's practically a declaration of affection."

"I am less pleased that you spent five hundred credits obtaining it."

"An investment."

"A potentially refundable investment."

"You're enjoying that distinction far too much."

Stent saved the calculations and shut down the larger display.

"We should submit the first proposal tomorrow, once the second supplier has confirmed its requirements. There is no advantage in committing ourselves before then."

Eli nodded.

He was perfectly content with that arrangement. They had enough information to justify preparing the ship for departure, and there were several small maintenance jobs they could complete while waiting for the suppliers to respond.

He gathered the datapads and began clearing the table.

Stent, meanwhile, checked Ch'eth's enclosure.

The little kivren was awake now, sitting on top of his bedding with an expression of considerable interest in the possibility that someone might finally be persuaded to let him out.

Stent opened the panel.

Ch'eth immediately climbed into his hands.

"Well, somebody's pleased with today's arrangements," Eli observed.

"He has slept for most of the afternoon."

"Sounds like a much better day than mine."

Stent settled into his usual seat with Ch'eth curled against him and resumed examining their projected route on his datapad. The little animal investigated the edge of the device for several moments before apparently deciding that Stent's lap offered more interesting possibilities.

Eli watched them for a moment, then opened the temporary HoloNet mailbox.

Nothing.

He refreshed the display.

Still nothing.

It had barely been a day since he posted the package. Even if the Imperial forwarding system performed with unprecedented efficiency, there was very little chance that Faro had received it yet.

He knew that. It did not prevent him from checking.

Stent looked up. "Anything?"

"No."

Eli closed the mailbox and returned to their freight applications.

Tomorrow, if everything went according to plan, they would have their first two contracts arranged. Within another day or two, they could be on their way toward the redistribution station and, from there, the commercial junction beyond it.

They would be moving in approximately the direction they wanted to go, earning considerably more money than they had managed so far and maintaining enough flexibility to change their plans if Faro answered.

For the first time since leaving Stygeon, Eli felt that they were doing something more useful than reacting to whatever happened to them next.

Of course, he had also committed them to an Imperial contractor program, spent five hundred credits and acquired a document that might prove entirely useless if their proposed freight arrangements fell through.

He decided not to dwell on those details.

Across the table, Stent was gently disentangling Ch'eth from the sleeve of his shirt.

Eli smiled.

"Well, I'd say that was a productive day."

Stent looked at him.

"It remains to be seen."

"You're impossible."

"Nevertheless, tomorrow we should begin preparing the hold."

Eli grinned.

Now that sounded considerably more encouraging.