3Degrees Celsius

Old friends

Engate Station, Corporation offices

Megan had the final file open in front of her; the file for the 420-D Artificial, named Nigel by its current crew. She sat back and frowned, considering again the robot in the seat in front of her.

"I am curious," she said. "Normally it is the ship's crew who purchase upgrades for their artificial unit. In this case you are making the application yourself?"

"That is correct," the android said simply.

Megan simply accepted the answer. She had reviewed all the information and only one question remained. Why? After many hundred thousand hours of active service, why had it suddenly decided to apply for an upgrade?

"Well, you are an older model, so there are plenty of upgrades available." she said, comparing the final list of requests with the android's credit history, "You are sure it is just the cosmetic interface you wish to change? There are UI personalities which will allow you to interact on a more familiar basis, like not calling everyone by their full name. Only costs a little extra, and you certainly have the savings for it."

Nigel had considered the question carefully. In truth, the reason it had opted for the upgrade were hard to explain.

"I believe a cosmetic change will facilitate my integration and service of the of the Antaries crew. I do not believe a personality modifier will provide a benefit."

"Very well," Megan allowed. She had been over everything with a fine-toothed comb and found no reason to decline the request. She selected the green stamp and pressed a hard "APPROVED" across the form for artificial upgrade.

Engate Station, Shopping Precinct

Engate station was a trade port. Sitting in geostationary orbit over Eroca Colony it provided an easy access point for ships without having to worry about the expense of landfall. It was bank rolled by the ubiquitous RH&M (Resources Human and Material) corporation, and they certainly managed the bigger trade operations. However, they were not the only operator. Smaller organizations were able to rent office and shop space and even arrange trade deals.

And there were plenty of trade deals to be had. Eroca stood just inside the Void Line, the arbitrary marker between patrolled, civilized space, and the Outer Rim. Once you crossed the Void Line, you were too far away to be guaranteed timely support should it be required. As travel technology developed the Void Line was pushed further out, but there were always a few enterprising souls who would seek their fortunes on new colonies in the final frontier.

And those colonies needed supplies. They needed a place to send goods, and purchase items that could not be produced locally. This was the main source of business for Eroca. So Engate was set up with a vast array of docks, warehouses, offices, and even a shopping precinct where merchants could display the produce of their colony and negotiate the purchase of goods from others. Most of the goods were traded on the station, without ever being taken to the ground. The merchant got his cut, and RH&M took a bite, and each trip, moving supplies to and from, fell to the small fleet of freighters such as the Antraies.

But the deals were small, and expenses were high. Most small traders lived contract to contract, just able to keep above water if they kept moving. Two weeks without payment was enough to put a crew under.

Andrew stomped through the shipping strip, his mood in counterpoint to the opulence around him. Damn corporation bureaucracy. Damn that small-minded clerk. Damn his own short temper, too.

"Andrew!"

What did the corporation expect? That he and the crew would just go without eating for two weeks till they got their fill of red tape? No. He'd have to release them from contract so they could take shitty jobs paid in advance.

"Andrew!"

No crew, and no way to get income, which meant no way to attract a new crew, which meant...

"Andrew Harrow!"

Andrew stopped as the voice calling his name finally permitted his mental miasma. He looked around the crowd to see who was calling. Finally, he saw an elderly man in a fitted business suit. He was red faced and waiving frantically. Andrew waited for the man to get closer, trying to place the skinny man. It wasn't till the man was standing right in front of him, panting slightly from even this mild exertion, that recognition dawned.

"Douglas!" Andrew cried in genuine delight. His old friend was literally half the man he had been when last they saw each other. They clasped hands warmly.

"I've been shouting out for you halfway across the mall," Douglas chided, mildly. "How are you?"

"Alive," Andrew couldn't shake his mood entirely. He looked over the thin man. Wisps of white hair clung to his scalp. His skin was pale but not unhealthy. A marked change from the overweight bear of a man Andrew had got to know. "You're looking well."

"Full remission," Douglas grinned broadly, slapping his chest. "Making the most of it while I can. Are you still flying?"

"Still flying, yes."

"What was it? Anteroids?"

"Antaries," Andrew finally managed to relax enough to smile at this old joke.

"Yes, of course," Douglas laughed freely. The crowds were now milling around them, oblivious to the reunion. "The corporation working you hard?"

In a flash, the whole last hour came back to Andrew, as welcome as a hangover, "I wish. They are holding up our payment for last shipment. I need new crewman and I can't attract anyone worthwhile if I can't pay them."

Something flashed in Douglas' eyes, and he watched his friend's face carefully, "So, you don't actually have a cargo at the moment?"

Andrew shifted uncomfortably, reluctant to speak the truth aloud, "I am... between jobs."

Douglas threw a thin arm over Andrew's shoulder and began to walk him back towards the docks. He spoke quickly and quietly, pausing if one of the crowd wandered to close, "Then we might be able to help each other. I am supplier for a couple of independent mines past the Void Line, but I am in competition with two other suppliers, including RH&M. I have a shipment of medical equipment and spare parts, but no one yet engaged to move them. If I can get them off station tomorrow, I'll have a two-day head start on everyone else. That may be enough to earn me preferred trader rights to the colony."

Andrew saw the plight of his friend and the opportunity that was before them. It pained him deeply to have to decline, "I'd love to help, but I am a crewman down and have no money from the last load to buy fuel."

Douglas' eyes flashed again. There was a hunger to his expression now, that Andrew recognized from many a late-night escapade, and more than one run in with the Patrol.

"That's where I help you by giving a retainer in advance."

Money in advance. It was exactly what Andrew needed, and more than he could hope for. Certainly, more than he deserved.

"Doug, I can't..."

"You get this shipment there ahead of schedule and it will be worth it," Douglas interrupted, anticipating the resistance. "You need the money now, and I need the shipping now. Standard terms because we are friends. Retainer now, full on receipt, bonuses for timely delivery, etc. You know the drill"

"I'm still a crewman down, though," Andrew protested.

Douglass swatted the complaint away with a wave of his hand, "Just take anyone. Put someone on a probation; a one trip trial. When you get back you can worry about getting someone who is a better fit."

The captain looked at his friend in renewed respect, "When did you get so business savvy?"

Douglas knew he had won. He stopped and clasped Andrew's hand in agreement, "I'll get the shipping order drawn up and sent to you and rush a payment to your account now."

"I don't know what to say..." Andrew was genuinely at a loss. He and Douglas had been through a lot, but this was wish granting level of friendship.

Douglas laughed at Andrew's discomfort, "Buy dinner tonight and you can think of something. Your shout because I hear you have just been paid."

He jabbed Andrew playfully in the chest. Andrew couldn't help but laugh. Perhaps things would go their way after all.