John Ringo - To Sail a Darkling Sea

Walker knew there was someone behind him but was trying not to actively notice.

“Commodore,” O’Toole said, starting to get up.

“Oh, please,” the Commodore said, waving. “You’re not Navy and I’m not the bloody Queen. Captain John Smith, United States Navy, sir. These gentlemen I’d met but I don’t recognize you.”

“Thomas Walker,” Walker lied. But he shook the Captain’s hand.

“You’re fresh out of a compartment, Mister Walker,” Smith said, tilting his head. “But you’ve got a yellow card. Graft?”

“I volunteered for the nautical course, sir,” Walker said.

“Right off the boat?” Smith asked.

“Right off the boat, sir,” Walker said.

“Good for you,” Smith said. “I most sincerely thank you. Lord God do we need every helping hand we can get.”

“You’re welcome,” Walker said. “But could you explain your comment on graft?”

“The term is broad,” Smith said, pulling up a chair. “For example, we recently busted one of the quarters people for accepting sexual bribes for better quarters. That is a non-valuable form of graft. On the other hand, when the market in points and chits started, some of my officers wanted to shut it down. I told them no and made it official. We’re even looking at setting up something like and SEC to monitor it.”

“I volunteer, sir,” Ewald said. “I worked the Exchange in London.”

“Name?” Smith asked, pulling out a green notebook.

“Ewald, sir. Richard Ewald.”

“I’ll put you on the possible list,” Smith said, closing the notebook. “It won’t be a high points job but it’s a desk job. Getting back to graft. There’s a very underground market in things like parts. Any military tends to have that but especially ones that don’t, as we do not, have a standard and steady logistics stream. My masters was on the Defense of Malta and specifically keeping their planes running. The reason I named my younger daughter Faith. Their real supply line was almost entirely what you would refer to as graft. Trading what they officially got, or stole, for what they needed. The main comparison was the British Army in Crete. They had a similarly poor supply line but much tighter control on their resources due to a very professional commander and an active inspector general. The fact that they could not, in fact, keep anything running was not the only reason they lost, by a long shot, but it was part of it. And when the commander in Malta changed to one who put his foot down on ‘black marketeering,’ it became nearly impossible for the crews to keep their planes running.”

“The engine room on this has an oil pump that’s iffy,” Thomas said. “Not out, but iffy. There’s one that they want off the Festival . Are you saying that they should, what, steal one? I’m interested, not arguing.”

“That’s worth looking into,” Smith said, making another note. “We need this thing to make the crossing. And I doubt there’s one to steal exactly. But if I were they… I’m sure that they have various items they could trade. They can requisition materials that is in short supply and thus valuable. All they really need to do is pass around that they need it. There are ‘unofficial’ salvage people who would get it for them. Most of them have day jobs which give them access to the liners and salvage bits that people want or that they think they can trade.

“Alternatively, we’d have to send in an official salvage crew, backed by Marines, who would otherwise be finding people like yourself, Mister Walker, or our few capable Navy security people. Frankly, an ‘unofficial’ salvage and some back scratching is the more efficient route. Do you begin to grasp the concept? I’m not saying you’re not intelligent… ”

“No, I get it,” Thomas said. “I don’t even disagree. I’m just surprised to hear a Navy captain supporting back channeling.”

“I was a history teacher before this,” Smith said. “And an Aussie para. I doubt that most Navy captains would support it. But I am unusual. And we cut down on it when someone is clearly causing issues. But… Mister Ewald, is it?”

“Yes,” Rick said.

“You understand markets,” Smith said. “There is a person who has various exchangeable goods or services who needs something fulfilled that he cannot fulfill easily. How would you handle it?”

“Find someone who could fulfill it and broker the deal,” Ewald said. “But I’m going to be cleaning compartments tomorrow. And I don’t know anyone who can fulfill it. I’m not even sure what they’re looking for.”

“Find the Chief Engineer,” O’Toole said. “Ask him what, exactly, he needs. Then find some of these ‘unofficial’ salvagers and broker the deal.”

“I suspect by now that that particular deal has come and gone,” Steve said. “If Mister Walker, fresh off the boat, knows about it, the word has gone around. That is one thing that is currently traded and has always been a currency; information. But it is, more or less, the future of the free market. Salvage is what we are going to be doing from now until we die. There’s little that is worth manufacturing given all the potential salvage. Only disposable commodities are going to be produced in the foreseeable future and many of those are going to be a glut.

“As long as no one strips a critical ship or depot, it’s all good. And we’re never going to put any of these liners back in service. But that is why I don’t want to cut down on ‘graft’ Mister Walker. It’s a more efficient method of supply. As long as it does not impact the official supply line. If someone pulls the pump then holds it to ransom… Well, I have Marines,” he added with a grin.

“Understood,” Walker said. “As I said, I even agree. It makes sense. If I had the time, I’d go get it myself. And charge the Chief Engineer through the nose.”

“For which he’d put in a requisition through the official supply line,” Smith said. “For things that we’re holding that cannot be easily obtained. For example, I make sure we have a lock on the really soft toilet tissue. Currently three rolls of Charmin are trading for one bottle of ten-year-old scotch. And that’s all the time I have, gentlemen. I, alas, have to go meet with some gentlemen who are less enthused by the process. Enjoy your evening.”

* * *

“Thousands of Europeans are working in this Squadron and you are doing nothing for Europe!”

Ariel Arsène Laurent was two things for which Steve did not care: French and a solicitor. He was also the head of the Le Comité Européen pour la Liberté. Which he had managed to get given a French name. Despite the fact that there were less than twenty people of French extraction in the Squadron.

“I was just meeting with some of them in less contentious circumstances,” Steve said, calmly, holding up two fingers in a V. “However, two facts, Monsieur Laurent. The first is that there are not thousands of Europeans in this Squadron. The total manning of the Squadron is currently two thousand three hundred and eight-six. Of those, eight hundred and change are from countries which could be defined as European, with the exception of Russian extraction. That is less than one thousand, much less ‘thousands.’ Hundred, yes.”

“Hundreds, then,” Laurent said, waving his hands in the air. “The fact remains…!”

“The fact remains that I said two facts,” Steve said. “Two. The second fact is that the Canary Islands are part of Spain which is part of Europe. So you were, in fact, wrong in both particulars.”

“The Canary Islands are not Europe !” Laurent snapped.

“The majority of the inhabitants we recovered are European in extraction and Spanish citizens,” Steve said. “I have done something for Spain which is a member of the EU, or was when there was a Spain or an EU, and therefore I have done something for Europe. Besides find and secure their distressed citizens, such as yourself . Monsieur. But, pray, do continue.”