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

“Are you serious? I’d love that. I’m shocked that you’d trust me.”

“Roland doesn’t hire fools and I’ve read some of your restaurant reviews. Reporting on speeches is easier.” Ellen took a forkful of pie, and Georgia noticed that the older reporter had a tremor in her hand.

“Are you alright?” Georgia asked, and then her memory flashed to the sign above the door Ellen had emerged from on the corridor that ended in the library. “You just came from the med bay.”

“Yes. The doctor is a Farling, we met when I was here reporting Flower’s first circuit. He offered to treat me then but I turned him down because I didn’t think it was a big deal. I came back today to see if his offer was still good.”

“Is that why you look a bit depressed? Did he refuse you?”

“No. He took samples from me and he needs to reprogram some nanobots to do the fine work. It will take him a few hours in his spare time, so I’ll have to come back.” Ellen shook her head as if she had promised herself to move on from that decision for the time being. “Did you say you were starting to investigate ship foreclosures?”

“Larry told me that they’ve been increasing this past year and Rendezvous seems like the ideal place to ask around. He said it was never a problem when most traders were buying second-hand ships direct from the Sharf, who held the mortgages, but I guess investors on Earth bought the notes somehow and now it’s a mess.”

“You can say that again,” Flower contributed via an overhead speaker. “There have been attempts to repossess Sharf two-man traders parked on my docking deck, but I send my bots to see the repo men off. You should talk to the owners who are still on board.”

“Were the foreclosures legally executed?” Georgia asked.

“Perhaps according to Earth laws, but I don’t operate under their jurisdiction. Besides, what kind of bank loans money to somebody who can’t repay it? From my perspective, the whole operation is fishy, and I told the representatives from MORE that if I see them again on my ship, I’ll slap them in the brig.”

“They’ll complain to EarthCent,” Ellen said.

“Let them waste their time if they want,” the Dollnick AI said dismissively. “And if you know any traders who require financial sanctuary, I’ve got plenty of low-cost parking space.”

“Can you contact the traders on board whose ships have been foreclosed on and tell them that reporters from the Galactic Free Press would like to meet them?”

“Consider it done,” Flower replied. “I’ll even give them time off from work if you’d like to do it while you’re here today.”

“You gave them jobs?” Georgia asked.

“A few of them have laid out their blankets in the bazaar and are doing business there, but most of them had already disposed of their goods at a loss in a desperate attempt to raise cash for their payments. And from what I saw, their inventories overlapped so badly that they were basically all competing to sell the same merchandise.”

“Advantage,” Ellen said. “The gist of my article is that the real purpose of the Advantage platform is to create losses for independent traders. I couldn’t tie it directly to the rash of foreclosures, but I know that some of the repossessed ships are being transferred to a package delivery service based on Earth, and some of the traders who lost their ships signed on as operators.”

“Follow the money,” Flower advised them. “If you can put the mortgage consolidators in the same room with the people behind Advantage and the owners of the new package delivery service, you’ve got a story. Just get it done before the election.”

“But that’s in just another week,” Georgia protested.

“My sources inform me that the faction running to keep the Traders Guild out of the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities is likely to win the election,” the colony ship’s AI continued. “They’re well-funded and have been preparing their campaign for months.”

“You’re spying on the Guild?” Ellen asked.

“I’m listening in on people who are spying on the Traders Guild,” Flower explained. “It’s one of the advantages of being me.”

Sixteen

“Down, Semmi! I’m sorry,” John apologized to a trader who the gryphon had just mugged for a chilidog the man had barely tasted. “Let me buy you another.”

“She’s yours?” the trader asked, and began laughing so hard that he spilled half of the draft beer he held in his other hand. “You don’t owe me a thing, brother. I’ll be using this as the basis for my tall tale tonight. A human adopting a Tyrellian gryphon? I’ve never heard of such a crazy thing.”

“I’m just babysitting,” John protested, but the other trader had already turned away to order another chilidog.

Semmi burped and favored her temporary guardian with a “Feed me more,” look that would have terrified a lesser man.

“I thought we agreed that you’d behave yourself if I let you out of the ship,” John scolded the gryphon. “Do you want to spend the next week in your crate?” At the word, “crate,” Semmi let out a whimper and curled up on the ground, making John feel like he had kicked a kitten. “Come on, then. I need to register before the deadline.”

As the pair made their way through the crowd, John had to admit to himself that walking with a winged alien lioness that stood higher than his waist had its advantages. When they reached the registration tent, there was a line snaking around the corner, but one after another, all of the people waiting pleaded with John to just go ahead. When he reached the registration table, Semmi yawned, gave him a wink, and curled up for a catnap.

“Yes?” the old