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…well, that’s just great. All that’s left to do is wait for the punishment that’s gonna be handed down. If there’s any mercy in the world, it won’t dig too deep into your debt. You just got one of the brands off, dammit.
McGuire gives you a hard look, as if reading your mind. The rig manager exhales, reaches into his desk to pull out a sheaf of paper. “This arrived by radio relay no less than two hours ago when the storm ended. Orders for your immediate transfer off the <span class="mu-i">Marduk</span>.”
The surprise you feel and emote is wholly genuine. Letters for transfer? You haven’t even finished the bare minimum of a five-year rotation. “I’m being transferred?”
“Cool your jets, you aren’t being fired. You’re being reassigned to the Salvage Guild, effective immediately. The next supply skiff coming here is gonna bring you and your <span class="mu-i">Magellan</span> back to Babylonia for your attachment to the armed trawler <span class="mu-i">Calypso</span>.”
Your head races. Salvage? Good money, but not nearly enough for your timetable to freedom. What the hell is the city playing at? Off-shore oil work is one of the most dangerous jobs in the Belt, pulling the most money remand what you owe! Is this some kind of ploy to keep you longer in debt?!
“It’s non-negotiable,” McGuire says flatly, preempting any complaints or umbrage. “Believe me, I tried to fight it. Losing you would be a terrible blow to our efficiency and output, and I know why you need the money. Thing is…”
He gestures to the slip of paper. Looking past the legalese and fine print, the orders are personally signed and sealed by none the less than Bartholomew Stolze. Scion of House Stolze, eccentric entrepreneur and oil mogul, nephew of Founder Bartimaeus Stolze.
The man who you sold yourself to, and currently holds your debt and contract.
“I don’t mind arguing with agents of the Founding Five,” he says dryly, “Not so much when the head of one personally calls to convince me. And offers either carrot or stick to get me to comply and bend the rules for your transfer.”
He pauses, and considers the look on your face. “If it’s any consolation, I’m acquainted with the captain of the <span class="mu-i">Calypso</span>. You’ll find no better trawler captain than Rashid Elishani, and he treats his crew well.”
How…comforting.
“…when do I leave?” you ask quietly.
“As soon as the supply skiff comes. Which should be soon, now that the storm’s long since passed. Consider yourself on leave, unless something catastrophically goes wrong and we need your help.”
You nod tersely, standing as he dismisses you. “…I’ll start packing.”
“One last thing.”
Another sheaf of paper drops on the desk, and McGuire eyes you expectantly. His face betrays nothing as he declares: “While the rig cannot officially pay out the pension you might have earned at the end of your tour, you are still entitled to your sign-on bonus, employee performance review and reward incentives.”
(cont.)
