Freelance On The Galactic Tunnel Network by E. Foner (best beach reads of all time TXT) 📗

on Flower, so she’d probably be willing to rent it to you as long as you could put down a security deposit and buy Thark insurance. How much piloting experience do you have?”

“None, and I doubt I’d be able to afford a security deposit for anything like that. I’m a freelancer. I was hoping that I’d get a big discount on the rental for taking it long term.”

“How much of a discount?”

“Whatever it would take to make the price the same as what I’ll be saving by not paying rent for my apartment.”

“Which is?”

“Three hundred and twenty creds a cycle.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe told her. “Maybe we could stretch a rental to a week for that if things were slow here, but it wouldn’t make any sense for us to go longer.”

“I can’t give up before I even start,” Georgia said in frustration. “What if I rented a ship one way, turned it in as soon as I arrived, and then rented another one when I was ready to move on to the next stop?”

“I know the Colony One people travel in their own ship because I’ve seen it in the news. That means they can go places on the tunnel network where we don’t have any franchises yet, so you’d be out of luck.”

“How much of a security deposit do you think your friend would require? If I can sell the paper enough food stories from the places I stop to cover my expenses, I could come up with two thousand creds,” Georgia offered, naming an amount equaling more than half of her savings.

Joe shook his head. “That idea went out the airlock when you told me you don’t have any piloting experience, and the security deposit would have been twenty times that amount.” He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Have you considered negotiating a ride with a trader?”

“How would that help? Don’t traders have places they need to go to deliver cargo?”

“Some take consignments, but most traders carry their own inventory and lay out the blanket wherever they find themselves. A solo trader might take on a passenger to earn a little ready money and have somebody to talk to for a change.”

“And you think I could find a trader who would be willing to follow the Colony One seminar around?”

“If you come back after supper I can introduce you to a trader I know,” Joe said. “Nice guy, usually stops in here a few times a year. It wouldn’t be right for me to discuss his business, but he probably wouldn’t turn up his nose at a little extra income.”

Two

“Grains,” Larry swore, dropping the ratchet wrench and rubbing his knuckles, which had slammed into the fuel pack when the five-point Sharf socket slipped off the bolt. He grimaced in disgust at the pink socket and pulled it off the ratchet to check it again on the bolt head. The telltale movement proved it was a size too large. “Three shades of red, three shades of blue—why can’t the Sharf number their sockets like normal aliens?”

“Need a hand under there?” a voice called.

“I could use the middle red socket, or maybe it’s dark pink.” A colored socket rolled into the tight space where Larry was working on his back. He snagged it on the move and tried it on the bolt head. “Perfect.” Larry mounted the socket on the ratchet, set the torque, and quickly made up the four bolts. Then he wormed his way out from under the ship and was surprised to see a man and a woman, both dressed in matching slacks and blazers.

“Are you the owner?” the woman asked him. “I’m Marcie Haynes, and this is my partner, Jim Silver.”

“Larry, no last name. Thanks for the socket, but if you’re selling something, I don’t have any cash to spare.”

“We’re here to give you money, Larry,” Jim said, flashing a broad smile. “We’re with MORE, the financial services company that cares more. You probably received a notice about your ship’s mortgage changing hands.”

“No, I didn’t hear anything about that.” Larry rose to his feet and wiped his hands on the rag he kept tied around a belt loop while doing maintenance work. “I bought this ship directly from the Sharf and financed it through them.”

“And they recently sold us a pool of securitized mortgages taken out by humans for pre-owned ships.”

“I would have remembered agreeing to a change in terms.”

“Nothing has changed except that your payments are now routed to us. Your original mortgage contract terms will remain in force throughout the loan period, which in your case,” Marcie said, glancing down at a large-screen tab, “will be another seven years. Unless, of course, you choose to refinance.”

“And we can offer you generous refi terms,” Jim jumped in. “Given the large down payment you made and the relatively short term of your loan, you’ve got a lot of equity built up in this beauty that we can help you access. How does fifty thousand creds cash sound to you?”

“I don’t understand,” Larry said. “You want me to take a second mortgage on my ship?”

“Think of it as a business improvement loan, or better yet, simply reclaiming your own money, because that equity is something you’ve worked hard to earn,” the woman told him. “According to our data you’ve never missed a payment, so you’ll qualify for our best interest rate.”

“My father helped me make the down payment on the condition that I never borrow against it,” Larry said. “Thank you for the help with the socket and coming all the way down here, but I’m looking forward to the day the ship is mine, free and clear.”

“Message received,” Jim said with an insincere grin, and placed a hand on his heart.

“We aren’t just here to offer you a refi,” Marcie continued,