Drifter's Run Read Free

knowledge of that particular make of ship, the drives it had, and the standard diagnostic procedures for a green-board power failure.
    Since the board was green, and the chief engineer was mystified, chances were that the NAVCOMP had malfunctioned and the drives were okay. But there were other possibilities too, and in order to provide the little girl with a complete answer, Lando would be forced to deal with those as well.
    It took Lando fifteen minutes to answer the first question. The second, third, fourth, and fifth took even longer, as did the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth.
    By the time Lando had finished the tenth question he'd been in Suite 437 for more than three hours. He was exhausted and Melissa Sorenson was fresh as a daisy. Not only that, but Lando was fairly sure that she'd understood all of his answers, and found some of them inadequate.
    Whatever Melissa's reaction she typed it into the portacomp with more than average skill. After a minute or two the girl stopped typing and looked up. "Your name?"
    For a moment Lando debated the merits of using his name versus an alias. In the technical sense he was wanted on Ithro, and only Ithro, although bounty hunters could follow him anywhere.
    So, it probably made sense to use another name, but there was something about Melissa's trusting eyes that made it hard to lie. "My name's Pik Lando."
    Melissa nodded, typed the information into her portacomp, and asked a routine series of questions. World of origin, next of kin, and so forth. For the most part Lando told the truth.
    When she was done the girl straightened up as if to make herself bigger. "When can you start?"
    Lando raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're making me an offer?"
    The girl was suddenly crestfallen. Her lower lip began to tremble. "You don't want the job?"
    Suddenly on the defensive, Lando held up a hand. "No, no, I didn't say that. I just wondered if you should consult with your father or something."
    All signs of concern vanished from Melissa's face. "Oh, no, Daddy always goes along with my decisions, he calls me his little business agent." She smiled brightly.
    Lando sighed. Great. A deep-space tug with a ten-year-old girl as its business agent. On the other hand, anything that made him hard to find was a plus right now, and a tug could be just the ticket.
    He forced a smile. "I see. Tell me, Ms. Sorenson…"
    "Everyone calls me Melissa. Except Daddy that is. He calls me Mel."
    "Thanks. My friends call me Pik. Tell me, Melissa, if I accept the job, where's the ship headed?"
    The girl looked thoughtful. "That's hard to say, Pik. Daddy works this system mostly, but we'll go anywhere if the price is right, and the big companies let us. Daddy will find something. He always does."
    Lando nodded understandingly. Well, what the hell. Anywhere was better than here. And even if it wasn't he could always quit, and go to work for someone else.
    He smiled. "Okay, Melissa, you've got yourself a pilot. And in answer to your original question, I can start right now."
    Melissa's face lit up with happiness. "Really? That's wonderful, Pik. Now, if you'll thumbprint this contract, we'll be all set."
    Suddenly Lando found himself holding a neat-looking printout, six pages of printout to be exact, single-spaced and full of legal jargon.
    Skimming through the contract, Lando saw all the usual responsibility, liability, and damage clauses, along with two other paragraphs of special interest.
    One granted him a slightly substandard salary, with the promise of a "ten percent share of any salvage that said company might realize during the lifetime of the contract," and the other obligated him to "Sorenson Tug & Salvage for a minimum of six standard months, or until injury, dismemberment, or death renders the incumbent unable to carry out his/her duties."
    The wording seemed slightly redundant but Lando got the idea. It was a good contract, good for Sorenson Tug & Salvage that is, and it caused Lando to eye Melissa