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The first thing you notice is that the <span class="mu-i">Calypso</span> rides high for a salvage trawler. She’s at least eighty, maybe eighty-three meters long, with a sixteen-meter beam. In the absence of fore-and-aft turrets and a midship missile launcher, a pair of knuckleboom cranes lie coiled and waiting, with an auxiliary crane directly behind the superstructure. Squinting at the machines, you believe that they should be more than enough to lift up the <span class="mu-i">Magellan</span>. Or else you wouldn’t have been assigned.
Sternward, you spy a reinforced-steel winch along the transom. Either a lift or tow line, depending on the mission, you think. Behind the winch, you spy a massive spool of steel cable…no, not just steel cable. PUEXO umbilical as well. Looks like this crew is serious enough about salvage to get not only PUEXO clearance, but the rare, irreplaceable PUEXO umbilical power lines.
Ten meters of deck separates the winch from two hangars built into the superstructure. PUEXO bays, most likely, given a pair of steel rails that come under the hangars, directly beneath the stern knuckleboom and auxiliary crane. But beyond the suits, you can spy OTH cutterboats, among a myriad collection of small vessels and life boats.
There’s a painful absence of turrets. Which isn’t to say that she’s defenseless. Only a fool would go out into the Flooded World without protection From her port side, you spy a pair of what you thinks are .50 machine guns, and an autocannon situated in the midship. Presumably, her starboard side is similarly armed.
Hopefully it will be enough should you run into pirates…or worse.
But you don’t have time to admire the superstructure, or the many dockworkers, men and women alike, that scramble on the dock trying to get the <span class="mu-i">Calypso</span> ready. Even as you try to place the location of the pilothouse and observe the radar and comms arrays on the roof, a voice calls out: “’lo there!”
Emerging from Eel Street, and sauntering down the stairs to the berth, an older man, no more than fifty, greets you with a cheery wave. His clothes, while casual, don’t hide or belay the practiced gait of an experienced officer. Judging from the measured steps…military. Or former military, given that this is a Salvage Guild operation.
“You must be our new PUEXO pilot,” the officer smiles. There's a faint accent you can't place to his voice. “Unami, wasn’t it? I’m Morgan Geary, lieutenant commander of the <span class="mu-i">Calypso</span>. It’s nice to meet you.”
You blink, perplexed. A lieutenant commander, coming out all this way to meet a debt-slave?
But he reads your mind, or was already on the way to explain this unusual occurrence. “One of our runners was supposed to meet you, but a victualing issue happened at the last second that needed all hands to address. As it happened, I was already ashore for other business, so Captain Elishani asked me to meet you as I was coming back.”
(cont.)
