"Timothy Zahn - The Icarus Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

make up your mind," I amplified, taking the glass off the tray. "About
offering
me a cargo."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but then he smiled. "You're quick," he
said. "I like that. I take it you're an independent shipper?"
"That's right." I wasn't all that independent, actually, not anymore. But this
wasn't the right time to bring that up. "My name's Jordan McKell. I'm captain
of
a Capricorn-class freighter called the Stormy Banks."
"Specialty certificates?"
"Navigation and close-order piloting," I said. "My partner Ixil is certified
in
both drive and mechanical systems."
"Actually, I won't be needing your partner." He cocked an eyebrow. "Or your
ship, for that matter."
"That makes sense," I said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. "What exactly
do
you need—a fourth for bridge?"
He leaned a little closer to me across the table. "I already have a ship," he
said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "It's sitting at the spaceport, fueled
and
cargoed and ready to go. All I need is a crew to fly her."
"Interesting trick," I complimented him. "Getting a ship here without a crew,
I
mean."
His lips compressed. "I had a crew yesterday. They jumped ship this morning
after we landed for refueling."
"Why?"
He waved a hand. "Personality conflicts, factional disputes—that sort of
thing.
Apparently, both factions decided to jump without realizing the other side was
going to, too. Anyway, that doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm not going
to make my schedule unless I get some help together, and quickly."
I leaned back in my chair and favored him with a sly smile. "So in other
words,
you're basically stuck here. How very inconvenient for you. What kind of ship
are we talking about?"
"It's the equivalent of an Orion-class," he said, looking like a man suddenly
noticing a bad taste in his mouth. Revising his earlier estimate of me
downward,
no doubt, as his estimate of how much money I was going to try to squeeze out
of
him went the opposite direction. "Not a standard Orion, you understand, but
similar in size and—"
"You need a minimum of six crewers, then," I said. "Three each certified
competent in bridge and engine-room operations. All eight specialty
certificates
represented: navigation, piloting, electronics, mechanics, computer, drive,
hull/spacewalk, and medical."
"I see you're well versed in the Mercantile Code."