Ohm Colony, HIP 82030 - 3306-12-05 17:55 GST
Thomas Whitton, the administrator of Ohm Colony was tired and grumpy. Since The Buurian Protectorate took over, he had been run off his feet. For a start, there was the aftermath of the contamination of the colony's water supply. With all the water delivered by The Buur Pit CMDRs, he had to organize the building of extra water storage tanks. That required a lot overtime, created a lot of noise and hassle, and consumed most of the free space in the station. People weren't happy about that, and whined about it to him. But there was little he could do about it: the water was needed to flush out their hydroponics and water storage systems. Without that the colony would have failed. Eventually some of the space was reclaimed, but The Protectorate needed some of it for science labs to study the water giant nearby. Then there were operation changes that the new management required: more reports, measuring equipment, training courses for staff, and, worst of all, advertising of opportunities in other Protectorate stations. He had lost a lot of good people to better paid jobs in Mulung, Qamadi, and Vasir. He'd meant to give those people raises, but never got around to it. Now he had to find replacements, and keep the station running without them. Some of the people were thriving in the new way of doing things. Melisa had improved the efficiency of docking routines, came up with ideas for improved refueling procedures, and had taken a few video courses on operations management already. Then there were others that didn't adapt as well. Some even attempted to sabotage the station. Nobody was hurt, thankfully. If somebody was hurt, he would have had to put a lot more effort into tracking the culprits down. He had some ideas on who they were, and were pretty sure it was just done out of frustration at the changes, but he didn't want to have to go to the efforts of proving it. Instead he let it be known that if it happened again, then The Protectorate would send special agents, and that that was likely to be bad for everyone. Then there were all the little crises that popped up due to the changes to the station and to how things were done. He had been advised to delegate more, but he couldn't: some matters were a little too delicate to be handed off to a subordinate. His current one, for example. He was in the hydroponics section talking to Dave Bonder, a maintenance technician. Dave had a problem.
"There's no space where the current water pumps are to install the new ones sent from Tewanta. And there's definitely no space for the new power converters and power distribution bus.", said Dave, "It just can't be done. Tom"
"What about Section N, down at the back?", Tom replied.
"That's full of stuff!"
Tom knew that the maintenance technicians ran a small moonshine still in there. "Well, you are just going to have to move the 'stuff' then, won't you!"
Dave looked upset. "You can't be serious about that Tom! Can you?"
"I am afraid I am. Listen! The new pumps and power converters were ordered, because the Buurian Protectorate noticed the power and water losses that took place when you increased production two weeks ago." That was a white lie, they had noticed the low efficiency within a few days of taking over, but Dave would be less likely to dig in if he believed that it was his mistake that tipped them off. "They're a little trusting, and thought it was old and underspecified equipment that's to blame. Hence the new gear."
Dave looked glum.
"Hey. I am not saying you have to shut down completely. Just pack up an put stuff into storage for a few weeks. I am sure you guys will find another dark corner to work in. I'll even refund my cut from the last four months. How does that sound?"
"Okay", muttered Dave, "I'll put it in Section N, but it'll take a while to pack up. End of the week?"
"I'll make up some bullshit to cover the extra time. That's what I do."
Dave nodded. Tom believed that he'd do the work, but he also saw that he wasn't happy about it. Another of his people pissed off with the new management. That'll be trouble at some point in the future and Tom will have to pick up the pieces.
Tom was leaving the hydroponics section when his hand terminal emitted an urgent beeping. He pulled it from his pocket. It was a call from Robbie Green the new customs inspector. He also noticed there were messages for him too. One of them was from Mr. Morden. He'd have to decrypt that and read it when he got back to his quarters.
"Yeah! What is it?"
"Director Whitton. I am at cargo bay two with Samara Faulkner. One of her cargo pods doesn't have an entry in our database, so it might be contraband. However, she said she'd cleared it already and is insisting on talking with you personally."
"I'll be right there!"
Tom was puzzled. Samara was a bespoke merchant, and a good one at that. Given credits, and a little time, there wasn't much she couldn't get her hands on for a client. Hell, she'd found replacement parts for old an obsolete equipment a few times, without which, he'd have overrun his budget. He suspected she did a little contraband smuggling on the side, but he turned a blind eye to it. It sounded like she slipped up and got caught by the eager rookie customs official. But she brought him into it, and that confused him. His hand terminal rang again: an urgent call from Melisa. What now, he thought?
"Melisa! What's the problem?"
"Hey Tom. Just letting you know, that CMDR Bradley Clarke has touched down on pad 3. You said you wanted to be informed whenever he landed, day or night."
"Yeah! I did.", said Tom wearily. "What's he up to? Loading or unloading cargo? Passengers?"
"No. Just what he normally does. Downloading data on faction influence levels and prices at our market. Do you want me to detain him?"
"It's fine. Let him go. We can charge him with anything. Thanks for letting me know!", he said and disconnected. Tom suspected that he was a spy for General Zoff, of the Buur Pit. Whatever that bunch of crazy billionaires wanted with his little colony, he couldn't figure it out and that worried him. Another thing on his plate.
Tom opened the door to Cargo Bay 2 to find a standoff. Samara was standing between a cargo pod and Robbie, her arms crossed and shoulders raised. She shot him a venomous glance as he walked in, which surprised him. This wasn't bluster or fake outrage at being inspected. She was furious.
"Ms. Faulkner! What's the problem here?"
"This cargo pod has customs preclearance. My client sent on all the documentation, to you", she said, looking straight at Tom, "a few hours ago. You assured them it was all taken care of!"
Tom thought quickly. What client? What message? Then he remembered he had an unread message from Mr. Morden. His stomach flipped.
"Ah yes! Now I remember, It must be a database glitch. I'll take of things from here on, Robbie."
"Okay, sir.", Robbie replied, his brow furrowed with puzzlement. He shrugged, and walked away. When the door closed Samara said, "What the frak, Tom! You were supposed to have this sorted out. Didn't you read the message?"
"It's been a busy day. I didn't get to it."
"Well, you nearly cost us a lot of credits. Our associate wants this stored for a while, discretely! He's not exactly known for making payouts on failed contracts!"
"What's in there?"
"Damned if I know! It's not anything living: I made sure to ask about that. I don't deal in slaves or black market organs. Other than that, it could be anything. The pod is booby trapped, though."
"Explosives?"
"Could be? I have no idea. I was told not to open it if I valued my life."
"I am not sure if I feel comfortable having this on the station!"
"Well, the hundred thousand credits you are being paid for this should make you a bit more comfortable. Besides, it's only for a week or two. Then one of our associate's agents will turn up to collect it. Just get the paperwork in place and keep it out of sight until then."
"Okay", Tom replied. "We can hide this for a few weeks."
"Good! And one last thing I was told: what ever happens, don't let a BPIA inspection team anywhere near it, or all hell will break loose!"
Tom swallowed hard. This was more than he bargained for. But it was just a few weeks and the money was too good to pass up. Then things would finally get back to normal.