Mitchell's Revenge

Tim sat at his desk and put his head in his hands. This accident would finish them. Erik appeared in the doorway. He stood and looked at his brother across the room. Tim sensed that he was there and looked up.

“That’s it then. We’re about to go out of business,” Tim said. He looked more haggard than ever. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced. They did not suit his white blond complexion. Erik smiled at him.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “We’ve actually managed to hang on to the business through all of this. Jake can step up the repair operations. And, oddly enough, the military are really going to need him now.”

“What are you talking about?” Tim asked. Erik smiled again.

“Look on the bright side. The military repair facility has been destroyed. We’ve got the only other repair yard in the system. And a mobile repair ship as well. We can add some more repair pods to the yard and designate them to the military. We won’t go under just yet.”

Tim shook his head in dismay. “You make it sound as if we deliberately destroyed the transport hub.” Erik laughed.

“I suppose some people might see it that way,” Erik said. “Anyway, I have a plan to boost our reserves. It’s a bit out there, but it might work.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tim.

“The pylon race.

“What? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’ve been talking to Lauri,” replied Erik. “It seems we have a flying protégé in our midst.”

“Who? You can’t be talking about Lucy, surely?” said Tim. Erik smiled again.

“No, Rufus from the Guardian Angel. Lauri thinks we should place substantial bets on the race. He’s convinced Rufus will win.”

Tim stared at his brother. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He did not want to let his business go bankrupt because of some incompetent programmer working for a software supplier. Another court action would be expensive. This accident proved just how shoddy the workmanship was. He wished they’d never made the decision to change allegiances.

He brought his mind back to the pylon race. “But we’re organising it. And we’re providing the prize. We can’t be seen to be putting bets on our own people.”

“No, but Flex can,” said Erik. “We can ask him to place a bet for us as if it were his own.”

“Why would he do that? He’s already lent us his crew and handed over the software fix. He doesn’t owe us anything more.”

“Well,” said Erik, looking smug now. “I’ve learned that Flex owes the IGM several thousand credits. And if he doesn’t pay it back soon, he won’t be in a position to pay them anything at all.”

“How on earth did you find that out?”

“I have my methods,” Erik smiled. “I did some forensic accounting while we finalised the deal with Flex. I wanted to make sure that we were getting roughly equal value for the repairs to his ship. I stumbled across a very strange transaction to the Guardian Angel when they were at Topernicus, and discovered that Natasha Orlov had deposited the funds. I did some more digging and found they’d come from the Orlov family accounts. That means Flex owes them.”

“So what’s this got to do with him placing a bet for us? I don’t see how this helps us at all.”

“Well, he’s obviously got no money or he would have paid us rather than trade. I’m assuming he’s trying to figure out how to pay it back. According to one of my colleagues, he’s been in the public library here researching the IGM. We can offer him a solution.”

Tim shook his head. “I still don’t understand.”

“If we ask him to place a large bet for us as if it was his own, and we win, we can offer him a cut of the winnings. Enough to pay his debt to the IGM and give him a small reserve for when he leaves the Karhu system.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Tim. “What if we lose?! I don’t want you wasting company funds on such a venture.”

“I knew you’d say that. Sometimes you’re too risk averse for your own good! Be glad that I’m telling you about it up front. I’ve got some personal funds that I’m willing to put up. So has Jake. So has Lauri for that matter. We believe that Rufus can win.”

Tim was gobsmacked. “How much money are we talking about here?”

“Seventeen million credits between the three of us,” replied Erik.

Tim stared at him. “Now I know you’ve gone completely mad! And where on earth did you get that kind of money?” Erik brushed the question aside.

“If we place the bet before the qualifying rounds we can lock in the longest odds. The winnings will be enough to buffer our operations for at least six months,” he went on. “And to give Flex a decent cut.”

“But why would you do that for the company? You could do whatever you want with it.”

“Exactly! We three are unmarried, we have no family of our own, and this business is our life. So we are happy to invest in our future with Universal Starship Enterprises. It’s as good a thing to spend our money on as anything else.” Erik looked at Tim. “Or would you rather we spent it on booze and floozies on Tiberion?”

“No, but...” Tim’s voice trailed off. “What if you lose?”

“We won’t lose! Rufus is that good. And Jake and Lucy won’t be competing. And if Maxim Volkov enters the race he won’t have had the opportunity to practice that Rufus has had.”

Tim shrugged. “I suppose I can’t stop you spending your own money. But I don’t want to know any more about it. The less I know the better.”

“Agreed,” said Erik. “I’ll get on with things then.” He left Tim’s office to talk to Jake. Arrangements had to be made.

The media went into a frenzy within minutes of the accident at CX9. Tim looked at the news feed on his vid screen in dismay. There were calls from the self appointed “Mayor” of Verdant for Baryon Mining to fund the clean up operation on the planet. The loss of life was high. The crew of the Baux, the transport hub, and technical crew who had remained with their ships had all died in the explosion. The Cygnus had rescued so few.

Tim rubbed his hands through his hair and continued to stare at the news feed. Abruptly the lead story switched to the pylon race. Jake had done his work well. The media interest was immediate. It was almost six years since U.S.E. had hosted a race. The races were always fast, furious and dangerous. The prize being offered for this one would encourage strong competition.

The media loved nothing more than the risk of a serious accident, even death, during a sporting event. Pylon racing had it all. And the betting on the results would add to the frenzy during the race.

The burst of positive publicity for the race drew attention away from the accident at CX9. That story faded quickly from the news feed. Tim began to make a list of what he needed to do to respond to the disaster, including dealing with Baryon Mining.

Now they had to wait for the pylon race entries to come in. Then they’d know what kind of race they’d have.