And I’ll be in space again, he told himself. That alone would make it worthwhile.
“I can sell you this heavy cruiser,” the dealer said, two days later. “She’s outdated, but . . .”
William glanced at the datapad, then shook his head. “Not a chance,” he said. He’d served on one of those starships, years ago. They weren’t bad designs, but they were high maintenance. “We need to focus on destroyers and corvettes.”
Tanya caught William’s arm as the dealer turned away. “I thought the bigger, the better.”
“Size isn’t everything,” William muttered back. “And that ship is really too large for our purpose. We won’t have the maintenance facilities to keep her going.”
He’d done a little research during the brief period between signing contracts and taking a shuttle to the scrapyard. Asher Dales didn’t have any space-based maintenance facilities. Anything larger than a light cruiser would be in real trouble if she suffered a catastrophic systems failure. And there was no guarantee of getting help from the Commonwealth either. William disliked politics intensely, but he’d studied it enough to be sure that the Commonwealth would not be accepting new members anytime soon.
And besides, we need numbers, not firepower, he thought. Our foes are not going to be flying in battleships and superdreadnoughts, but destroyers and frigates.
“I have four destroyers here,” the dealer said, reluctantly. “But they’re quite old.”
“They look suitable,” William said. They weren’t modern ships—the navy wouldn’t be selling modern ships outside the Commonwealth—but they were suitable. Besides, they were also relatively easy to keep running. He’d seen similar ships survive and prosper despite the best efforts of their pirate crews. “We will, of course, have to go over them in cynical detail.”
“Sir!” The dealer sounded offended. “They have CAB certificates.”
“So they do,” William agreed, lightly. He took the proffered datapad without looking at it. “But we have to go over them anyway.”
“I’ll arrange a shuttle,” the dealer said. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Weapons and a sizable number of spare parts,” William said. “And at least one bulk freighter, armed.”
The dealer’s face fell. “Sir, they’ve been tightening up laws on armed freighters,” he said slowly. “The government doesn’t want . . .”
“Then a freighter with weapons mounts,” William said. That wasn’t good news. Despite the navy’s best efforts, far too many freighters traveled without escort . . . and too many of them never came home. Piracy had been on the upswing even before the end of the war. Too many escort ships had had to be reassigned to the battle line. “Someone isn’t thinking clearly.”
“No, sir,” the dealer said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
William grinned at Tanya. “I’ll have to check out the ships,” he said as the dealer hurried off. “Do you want to come with me or stay here?”
“I’ll come,” Tanya said. “It might be interesting.”
The dealer returned. “This way,” he called. “The shuttle’s at the docks.”
William took his chair and scanned the datapad as the shuttle undocked. The dealer had been telling the truth, unsurprisingly. All four destroyers had been checked before they’d been placed in long-term storage. William was mildly surprised they hadn’t been broken down for recycling or simply sold for scrap; they were intact ships. They were worth more intact, if they could find a buyer. Besides, the navy had probably considered purchasing them for live-fire targets.
Tanya nudged his arm. “Did you manage to recruit crew?”
“A handful,” William said. He’d reached out to a couple of old friends specifically, but the others had been contacted through recruitment agencies. “I’ll have to interview them over the next few days.”
He frowned as the shuttle docked with the first destroyer. That wasn’t going to be easy, at least until he had a few trustworthy assistants to help with the hiring. He knew what to look for in naval crew, that wouldn’t be a problem, but engineering and support staff were going to be a headache. Anyone who hadn’t been snapped up by one of the bigger corporations was likely to have serious problems. An alcoholic, perhaps. William had no interest in hiring someone who might be more dangerous to his friends than his enemies.
The gravity shimmered slightly as the hatch opened. William felt his frown deepen. A mismatched gravity field or a sign of something far worse? He’d have to find out before they authorized the purchase . . .
“Let’s go,” he said. “Come on.”
The dealer remained in the shuttle, to William’s private relief, as they entered and inspected the destroyer. She was a small thing, only five decks; her energy weapons and missile tubes were active but outdated. William checked the computers, looking for obvious problems, then worked his way through the engineering section. Everything appeared to be outdated, but serviceable. There didn’t seem to be any reason to reject the destroyer out of hand, but he’d have to make sure the life support, drives, and shields were checked and rechecked before money changed hands. Too much could go wrong too quickly for him to be willing to take chances with vital systems.
“It seems serviceable,” he said finally, triggering the privacy generator. The dealer could easily use the destroyer’s datanet to spy on his customers. “We will have to get a complete inspection team out here, but otherwise it looks good.”
“And you have to check out the others,” Tanya said ruefully. “I should have stayed behind, shouldn’t I?”
William shrugged. “You need to know what you’re buying,” he said. “And you could easily get conned if you didn’t know what to look for.”
“I’ll leave it in your capable hands,” Tanya said. “If the four destroyers and the freighter are what you think we need, we’ll buy them.”
“As you wish,” William said. “We’ll also need to purchase a vast number of spare parts. A shortage at the worst possible time could doom us.”
“I understand,” Tanya said. Her lips thinned. “We do have to hurry, though. Have you seen the news reports?”
“Yeah,”
