A lot of exiles did want on the ship. And they were happy to bring cash.
Not all of them were the financial windfall of Sivouren Donher, of course. Not everyone was planning to bring a family of five with hangers-on. But they added up: the single exiles, the couples and occasional families of three or four, all at half a million marks a head, plus cargo charges, plus documents, plus additional sums if the refugees were Lagos franchisees or business associates, which many were because Kiva told Magnut to screen for those and to give them preferential treatment.
Within two days, Kiva was within five million marks of going into the black for the trip. “I’m a fucking financial genius,” she said, to Captain Blinnikka, back on the Yes, Sir.
“Or you’re war profiteering,” Blinnikka said.
“I’m not selling anything to the combatants,” Kiva said, taken aback, but then trying to shrug it off with some light snark. “I’m offering a service to those who wish to leave the theater of combat. That makes me a humanitarian, actually. I’m saving people.”
“For half a million marks each.”
“I didn’t say I was a bleeding heart about it.”
“Whatever you say.”
“We might finish this trip making a profit,” Kiva pointed out. “You don’t object to that.”
“No,” Blinnikka admitted. “Even a small loss will be a win for us given the circumstances. I won’t lose my command. You won’t lose face in front of your mother and the House of Lagos. What you’re doing makes sound financial sense.”
“But.”
“There’s no but. You’re right. It’s just a reminder that war favors the rich. The ones who can leave, do. The ones who can’t, suffer.”
Kiva was silent for a moment. Then, “Fuck you for having a conscience, Tomi.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kiva’s tablet pinged; it was Gazson Magnut. “You’re about to have a visitor,” he said when Kiva connected.
“Who is it?”
“A Lord Ghreni Nohamapetan. He says you know him.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Kiva said. “What does that abject pile of shit want?”
“I think it has something to do with your exile plan. He was asking questions about it, anyway.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that he would need to bring it up with you. He got snitty about it and tried to pull rank with me, at which point I started quoting Interdependency trade regulations at him until he got frustrated and left me alone. He turned to his flunky and told her to get him a shuttle to take him to the Yes, Sir. He’ll be there presently.”
“Got it,” Kiva said, and closed the connection. She turned to the captain. “Ready to do some space lawyering?”
Blinnikka smiled. “Of course.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
*
“Lady Kiva,” Ghreni Nohamapetan said, once the shuttle bay had run through its cycle and put air back into the space. “So lovely to see you again.”
“Is it?” Kiva said.
“As far as you know, yes.” Ghreni nodded to the captain. “You are Captain Blinnikka, I assume.”
“Yes, my lord.” Blinnikka bowed.
Ghreni did a quick head bow in return and then focused on Kiva. “We should talk privately,” he said.
“About what?”
“About your profit-taking on refugees.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“The duke disagrees.”
“Captain,” Kiva said, to Blinnikka.
“My lord, the Interdependency is quite clear on the rights of refugees during wartime and the leeway ships and their crew have in offering assistance to them. Indeed, it’s one of the core rights of the Interdependency, handed down by the Prophet herself.”
Ghreni gave a humorless smile to this. “That’s a lovely sentiment, Captain, obviated by the fact that you’re charging a half million marks a head for passage.”
“Actually, the captain and I were just talking about the plight of the less advantaged,” Kiva said.
“You?” Ghreni said, disbelieving.
“One, fuck you, and two, yes.” Kiva looked over to Blinnikka. “Isn’t that right?”
“There had been some discussion, yes.”
“And I suppose now you’re going to tell me that you charging half a million a head to leave End is meant to subsidize the poor you will also take on as a gesture of your concern for their plight.”
“Maybe. I suppose that’s hard for you to believe, Ghreni, but then, you’ve always been a condescending little shit.”
“There was a time when you saw that as an endearing quality, Lady Kiva.” Ghreni turned his attention to the captain. “Laws concerning refugees notwithstanding, you are aware that End has special status in the Interdependency. Many people here can’t just leave. They are here on End for a reason.”
“Our chief purser is well aware of the special nature of End and some of its citizens,” Blinnikka said. “We won’t take anyone from the planet who is not allowed to leave.”
“You don’t mind if we double-check that,” Ghreni said.
“Of course not,” Blinnikka said. “I am sure the imperial customs office here on End will supply you whatever information you desire.”
“The duke would prefer to examine your passenger manifest directly.”
Blinnikka shook his head. “Apologies, my lord, but by Interdependency regulation that information must come through a request to the customs office, not from the ship directly.”
“Surely you may accommodate the duke as a courtesy.”
“Are you asking my captain to go against Interdependency law?” Kiva said.
“There is substantial overlap between the duke’s interests and Interdependency law.”
“As I am well fucking aware, thanks to your duke’s embargo of my cargo. But in this case there’s not, is there, Captain?”
“No, my lady,” Blinnikka said.
“Well, then.” Kiva looked at Ghreni, steadily.
“As long as I’m here, I would love to see some of the ship,” Ghreni said, after a moment.
“You want a fucking tour,” Kiva said.
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Because three days out from departure we don’t have better things to do than indulge your whims.”
“You really don’t.”
“This is your subtle attempt to talk with me alone, yes?”
Ghreni held his hands open, as if to say, You got me.
Kiva nodded and turned to Blinnikka. “I’m taking him to the production floor. If I need you again to spout imperial law at him, I’ll call.”
Blinnikka nodded and left.
“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Kiva said, and motioned to Ghreni to follow her.
The shuttle bay was at the aft of the main body of the Yes, Sir, a long, segmented needle, off from which branched two separate rings, which held the farming and processing modules, among others. Each rotated to provide a baseline .5 standard G, with push fields employed to bring the internal effective gravity to 1 G. Variations could be employed within individual modules and areas for production and other purposes.
As Ghreni noted when they entered an agricultural module. “I’m bouncier in here.”
Kiva nodded. “Haverfruit grow best at .8 G, so that’s what these modules are kept at.”
“End is slightly over 1 G. Were you going to tell the people you licensed to about that?”
“It’s not like it won’t grow at that gravity,” Kiva said. “It’ll grow just fine. And they’d be growing them off of actual haverfruit bushes rather than the hydroponic setup we’re using here.” She motioned to the growing racks, densely packed with lights and fruits arising out of the growth medium. “If you have anything on End, it’s acreage. Not that it matters, thanks to the fucking duke.”
“To be fair, the House of Lagos let loose a virus that wiped out a staple crop.”
“To be fair, you can go fuck yourself because we had nothing to do with that and you know it.”
“I’ve missed you, Kiva. You and your marvelous way with the word ‘fuck.’”
“No you haven’t, but thank you anyway.”
Ghreni motioned to the haverfruit. “So what will you do with all of this?”
“Follow me to the next module and find out.”
The next ring module was a processing module, set to 1.1 G for efficiency.