‘Pirate the pirates’ he’d said. ‘Easy’ thought Matzov. So long as they were small time acts, and petty smugglers. Wouldn’t want to risk going after anybody who might be in a position to actually fight back. As much as Matzov had liked doing business with Caplin, had almost considered him a friend, and wanted to find out where he was (just as his superiors did), he also didn’t want to die in the process. Or indeed have to pay for any ship damage, or fines. Still, a deal like this would help business relations in general in Tangaroa, where commercial activity had been slack recently, and that was all grist to the mill.
The operation proved straightforward, as expected. The only slight annoyance was picking up local fines in Tarangoa and Baldr, but ultimately they should prove to be nothing more than an expenses write-off in a grander scheme that now presented itself in Matzov’s mind.
‘Carpenter, send this message to Premji. Tell him I am calling in a favour, and I want to be made a gift. A gift of a fully kitted mining vessel, top of the range, over a hundred in tonnage, and an able operator. His man Vauban preferably. Tell him I want it in the next 48 hours. Be blunt’.
Matzov swivelled his chair back round to his desk and signed the deeds of incorporation on Pan-galactic Mining, his newest creation. It needed one other signature to muddy the already murky ownership model, and send credits flowing around the galactic financing community, in little, delicate ripples.
‘Pirate the pirates’ Matzov whispered to himself. ‘We can serve the community, and we can personally profit. Nothing wrong with that,Vauban. Nothing at all.’
The operation proved straightforward, as expected. The only slight annoyance was picking up local fines in Tarangoa and Baldr, but ultimately they should prove to be nothing more than an expenses write-off in a grander scheme that now presented itself in Matzov’s mind.
‘Carpenter, send this message to Premji. Tell him I am calling in a favour, and I want to be made a gift. A gift of a fully kitted mining vessel, top of the range, over a hundred in tonnage, and an able operator. His man Vauban preferably. Tell him I want it in the next 48 hours. Be blunt’.
Matzov swivelled his chair back round to his desk and signed the deeds of incorporation on Pan-galactic Mining, his newest creation. It needed one other signature to muddy the already murky ownership model, and send credits flowing around the galactic financing community, in little, delicate ripples.
‘Pirate the pirates’ Matzov whispered to himself. ‘We can serve the community, and we can personally profit. Nothing wrong with that,Vauban. Nothing at all.’
(2nd from top)