"Then you already know that I'm Captain Gershon of the La Concorde, a free trader out operating out of Zagros, for the most part. Unfortunately I have no cargo at this time so I'm not hiring until I find a cargo, a courier job, a charter, or some other way to make ends meet. My associates and I were just now discussing possibilities. Have a seat. Have you got anything?"
Volodimir took a seat calmly, but positions it so he'd be able to see the individuals Trip is observing as well.
The old man frowns and says, "Ah, this is where it all falls apart. You won't believe me. An artifact of alien origin. Not one of those old carved stone relics or broken shards of pottery the archaeologists find once in a while on some dirtball world that indicates the past existence of a long-extinct stone-age intelligence. I'm talking about an alien starship. We never got into its hold before we had to abandon ship, but even if the hold is empty, the starship itself must be worth millions of credits."
"I pay what a man's worth. A pilot might make 6,000 credits a month, a steward 3,000. Bai Zhiyi, if I hired her, I'd offer 5,000 as an experience navigator. What are you two worth? What can you do? If you locate a cargo we'd likely go in for shares of the sale price, with expenses deducted proportionally. How do you feel about slightly...extralegal...work?"
Trip gives a half smile at the mention of extralegal work but otherwise waits for V to answer.
"A hard radiation leak followed by a sudden total computer systems failure making life support, communications, and engines inoperable. Anyone boarding will need to wear a vacc suit."
"Like a huge metal cylinder, a few hundred meters in length, but as for what It's made from, I'm not a scientist and all the eggheads were killed by the radiation leak in that section of the ship. I never got to see the insides personally, but it stands to reason it would be priceless."
"That's something else" He looks to Eloise with a quizzical expression before turning back.
"Let me warn you, then," says Captain Gershon with a deadly serious look in his eye. "I'm about to tell you about a particular job that has extralegal aspects to it, and if you decline the job and say a word to anyone about it, you may find yourselves dead sooner rather than later, and not from natural causes, though the coroner may believe so. This is your chance to walk away before you get in too deep. What's your choice?"
The old man start laughing so hard he begins to cough, then coughing so hard he begins to choke. He gestures for a glass of water on a table. Assuming you give it to him... After he drinks and can speak again, he grins wickedly and says, "There's not question but that it's not made by man, but I'm not an engineer or a mechanic so I can't explain it well. All smooth surfaces made of a material they couldn't cut through, for one. No obvious engines or drive systems, yet she travels in space. No man made her. No visible hatches or seams, no visible portholes or other openings, yet when one of the scientists laid her hand on the side, the damned thing opened up to let her in. Whatever she saw in there changed her into a gibbering fool, too. When she came back out, we couldn't get anything out of her."
"Maybe the scientist did...but if so, she was so bughouse nuts she never said. She could talk all right, but not about the ship or whatever was inside it."
"Five hundred credits a day and ten percent of whatever I get for the salvage."
Trip stands still waiting for whatever comes next.
"Video? Photo? I was lucky to get out alive!"
"There is a certain painting that was taken as spoils of war a few years past," says Captain Gershon. "Suffice to say, the original owner wants it retrieved without having to resort to lawyers and courts that could take decades. He's offered to pay two million credits upon receipt, no questions asked as to how, when, who, where, or anything else. It's reported to be en route to this station. The right crew could hijack the ship it's on, or perhaps simply get aboard and recover the painting. I'm no burglar, so I need the right men for the job."
"Okay, well it would be pretty easy to fly out and look for you. What do you say Eloise? 500Cr a day for just heading out, not too bad even if it turns out to be nothing"
Trip relayed what he overheard between Captain Gershon and the two men. That's who you're talking with now. The two men are still there with you.
"As I might have mentioned, I'm not a thief. There is no plan as yet. As for whether the painting will be unloaded, or when, I don't know. I'm looking for men adept at this sort of work."
"Nothing? Spit in an old man's face and call him a liar, why don't you?"
"No offense meant. It's just quite a claim. We're willing to look into it after all, was anybody else as eager?"
"Unfortunately Horst and Helmut are merely hired muscle. Good in a fight, but none too bright," he says with a calming gesture toward the two large men whose faces are turning red either with anger or embarrassment, or possibly both. "I keep them around as a sort of bodyguard, but they'll be useful if you encounter resistance when you make your attempt to steal the painting."
"No," says the old man, "I didn't think so." He begins laughing, then coughing again. He spits something bilious into a handkerchief and continues, "I have studied phrenology in my time." He begins to massage Nils' skull with bony, spiderleg-like fingers and remarks, "Yes, all the cranial hallmarks of the moron, clinically speaking." To Nils he adds, "No offense meant, my lad." You're not sure if he is serious or getting back at you. "As for others," he says, "they scoff and make half-assed commitments merely to try to curry favor with me as they think I'm a fool off whom they may sponge. I need young, brave, ambitious spacers who hunger for the liberty and self-sufficiency that only money can buy. Thus far I have encountered cowards, incompetents, and greedy fools."
"The more the merrier," the old man replies. "The sooner the better. I'm not getting any younger."
"Probably execution by way of airlock," says Captain Gershon, "but that's just an incentive not to get caught." To Volodimir he adds, "Aye, you have to look of the scoundrel about you so I'm sure you're not bothered by such a possibility." He taps out and refills his pipe.
"Commander, is it?" says Captain Gershon. "Well, commander, you'd best tell your crew that you've arranged to become collections agents for a one-time repo job with some danger but reward enough to make it worth their while. We're speaking of two million credits split eight ways, not to mention the opportunity to get in the good graces of the Reichsgräfin Katinka von Bültzingslöwen, which is nothing to sneeze at."
"I presume you agree to the discretion part, then?", Volodimir nods. "Good. It concerns an expensive painting that's currently in the wrong, and - I've been assured - unlawful hands. I'm sure you get the gist of the task?"
