Fic: Last Minute Booking
Title: Last Minute Booking
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto, OAC.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1151
Summary: Jack and Ianto get a last-minute addition on the latest cargo run.
Spoilers: Nada.
Written For: Challenge 446: Full at fan_flashworks.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters.
A/N: Set in my Ghost of a Chance ‘Verse.
They’d been at the tables in the port-master’s offices for hours, trying to negotiate contracts with merchants for enough cargo to fill their holds. Strictly speaking, Jack and Ianto could afford to make the trip even if the Happy Wanderer’s three cargo holds were less than half-full, but their haulage business was their livelihood, and travelling with empty holds was inefficient, especially when it could be avoided with a bit of effort.
While they were independently wealthy, thanks to Jack’s investments over the last century or so, the more money they could earn by transporting other people’s cargoes from place to place, the more often they could afford to offer free delivery of emergency supplies like food and medicines to stricken colonies.
It took most of the day, with a short break for lunch, but finally, they managed to score one last load that would take up most of the remaining space in their largest hold, farming tools for a rapidly expanding colony a few light years beyond the planet they’d chosen to visit for a short vacation. It would mean they’d have to bypass their destination, drop off the tools, then retrace their steps, so to speak, but maybe they could pick up a cargo, or even passengers, at the colony planet to make up for it.
Just when they were about to leave the negotiation tables and log their flight plan, a lone Beldinar approached them, shuffling his walking tentacles uncertainly.
“The board indicates your ship is outward bound for Cuolinoor?”
“That’s correct,” Jack agreed, “but our holds are already filled to capacity. I’m afraid we don’t have room to take on more cargo.”
What passed for the alien’s shoulders slumped. “Then I am too late. That is unfortunate; I find myself stranded, since no other ship is bound in that direction.”
The Cuolinoor system was a bit off the beaten track, which was one of the reasons Jack and Ianto had chosen it for their vacation, the other being that it had a lot of coastline, with shallow seas and unspoiled beaches. As it wasn’t currently a regular stop on any of the commercial trade routes, it could be weeks, or even months, before another ship headed out that way.
Jack hesitated, then sighed; the Beldinar looked so defeated. “What is it that you wish to transport? If it’s not too large, there’s a chance we might be able to squeeze it in.”
“There is very little, and I would be willing to pay three times your normal price if you could find some way…” The alien trailed off. “I must explain. My name is Hergal Aptinoor. I am an artist.”
“I’ve heard of you,” Ianto said, smiling. “I’ve even seen a couple of your paintings. The one of sunrise over Lindemar is quite breathtaking.”
“I thank you. I am rather fond of that one myself, for sentimental reasons. Lindemar is my homeworld, although I have been away for some years. I must travel where my muses take me, and to where my work has been commissioned. That is the reason I am seeking passage, for myself, my equipment, and four completed works. I have been commissioned to create a great work for the wedding of the honourable Ilfrim Ver Gilgavar to Gilvra Montcherris, of the Perganese Montcherrise. A very lucrative commission. They decided at the last moment to hold the ceremony on a beach on Cuolinoor, where they intend to construct a vacation residence.”
“From what I’ve seen, it’s a beautiful setting for a destination wedding,” Jack said.
“Indeed, I cannot fault them for their choice, my fimbrils twitch at the thought of capturing such a scene for posterity. It is a glorious opportunity. But the family, the guests, and their servitors have already embarked for Cuolinoor on their space yacht, so I am unable to travel with them. Normally, that would not be a problem. I have my own ship, which allows me to travel wherever I will, but it sustained damage in a freak meteor shower passing Ooodlin, and I was forced to put in here for repairs. Now I am told that because there are none suitable currently aboard this station, replacement shielding panels must be imported. They will take at least a Galactic month to arrive, the repairs will take approximately three weeks, and then I face another three weeks for the journey, even if I push my ship to its limits. The marriage ceremony is to take place five weeks from tomorrow. You see my dilemma.”
“We do indeed,” Jack assured Hergal.
“The wedding will be over before I am even able to set out, I will be forced to forfeit on the most prestigious commission of my career this far if I cannot make alternative arrangements for transportation. I would have rented a small one-person skimmer, but there are none currently available, and no other rental vessels that could cover the distance in the time available.” Most one-person ships didn’t have sufficient range and would have to keep stopping to refuel, which would add significantly to travel time.
“You say you have only your equipment and four completed works to transport, along with yourself?”
“Yes, none of which would take up excessive space. The completed paintings I wish to take only because I am reluctant to leave them aboard my ship while repairs are carried out, and this space station does not have secure storage facilities.”
“Also, you may be able to sell them to wedding guests,” Ianto suggested.
“There is that possibility,” Hergal agreed.
“Well, in that case, I believe we can accommodate you, at the standard rate for passengers, plus a small additional fee for the paintings, provided they are properly packed to protect them from damage in transit. We will not take any responsibility if harm should come to them due to insufficient or unsuitable packaging.”
“That is understood, and readily agreed to. They are in stasis-locked crates,” Hergal assured him. “I will freely sign a waiver stating I take full responsibility for all my possessions.”
“That is agreeable,” Jack said, offering his hand across the negotiation table.
Hergal closed his fimbrils briefly around Jack’s fist. “You have my gratitude, captain. When may I board your ship?”
“Tomorrow, at ninth hour. We’ll be departing at eleventh hour. We have three stops to make along the way, but we should have you to your destination with a week to spare.”
“Then I will see you, with all my accoutrements, at ninth hour.” Rising to his walking tentacles, and bowing respectfully to both men, Hergal departed.
“Well,” said Ianto. “And there we were, worrying we wouldn’t be travelling with full holds. Now we have all that, and an important passenger too. This looks like it’s going to be an interesting trip.”
Jack grinned. “Indeed it does. Maybe we could talk our passenger into painting our portrait for our next wedding.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Jack, Ianto, OAC.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1151
Summary: Jack and Ianto get a last-minute addition on the latest cargo run.
Spoilers: Nada.
Written For: Challenge 446: Full at fan_flashworks.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood or any of the characters.
A/N: Set in my Ghost of a Chance ‘Verse.
They’d been at the tables in the port-master’s offices for hours, trying to negotiate contracts with merchants for enough cargo to fill their holds. Strictly speaking, Jack and Ianto could afford to make the trip even if the Happy Wanderer’s three cargo holds were less than half-full, but their haulage business was their livelihood, and travelling with empty holds was inefficient, especially when it could be avoided with a bit of effort.
While they were independently wealthy, thanks to Jack’s investments over the last century or so, the more money they could earn by transporting other people’s cargoes from place to place, the more often they could afford to offer free delivery of emergency supplies like food and medicines to stricken colonies.
It took most of the day, with a short break for lunch, but finally, they managed to score one last load that would take up most of the remaining space in their largest hold, farming tools for a rapidly expanding colony a few light years beyond the planet they’d chosen to visit for a short vacation. It would mean they’d have to bypass their destination, drop off the tools, then retrace their steps, so to speak, but maybe they could pick up a cargo, or even passengers, at the colony planet to make up for it.
Just when they were about to leave the negotiation tables and log their flight plan, a lone Beldinar approached them, shuffling his walking tentacles uncertainly.
“The board indicates your ship is outward bound for Cuolinoor?”
“That’s correct,” Jack agreed, “but our holds are already filled to capacity. I’m afraid we don’t have room to take on more cargo.”
What passed for the alien’s shoulders slumped. “Then I am too late. That is unfortunate; I find myself stranded, since no other ship is bound in that direction.”
The Cuolinoor system was a bit off the beaten track, which was one of the reasons Jack and Ianto had chosen it for their vacation, the other being that it had a lot of coastline, with shallow seas and unspoiled beaches. As it wasn’t currently a regular stop on any of the commercial trade routes, it could be weeks, or even months, before another ship headed out that way.
Jack hesitated, then sighed; the Beldinar looked so defeated. “What is it that you wish to transport? If it’s not too large, there’s a chance we might be able to squeeze it in.”
“There is very little, and I would be willing to pay three times your normal price if you could find some way…” The alien trailed off. “I must explain. My name is Hergal Aptinoor. I am an artist.”
“I’ve heard of you,” Ianto said, smiling. “I’ve even seen a couple of your paintings. The one of sunrise over Lindemar is quite breathtaking.”
“I thank you. I am rather fond of that one myself, for sentimental reasons. Lindemar is my homeworld, although I have been away for some years. I must travel where my muses take me, and to where my work has been commissioned. That is the reason I am seeking passage, for myself, my equipment, and four completed works. I have been commissioned to create a great work for the wedding of the honourable Ilfrim Ver Gilgavar to Gilvra Montcherris, of the Perganese Montcherrise. A very lucrative commission. They decided at the last moment to hold the ceremony on a beach on Cuolinoor, where they intend to construct a vacation residence.”
“From what I’ve seen, it’s a beautiful setting for a destination wedding,” Jack said.
“Indeed, I cannot fault them for their choice, my fimbrils twitch at the thought of capturing such a scene for posterity. It is a glorious opportunity. But the family, the guests, and their servitors have already embarked for Cuolinoor on their space yacht, so I am unable to travel with them. Normally, that would not be a problem. I have my own ship, which allows me to travel wherever I will, but it sustained damage in a freak meteor shower passing Ooodlin, and I was forced to put in here for repairs. Now I am told that because there are none suitable currently aboard this station, replacement shielding panels must be imported. They will take at least a Galactic month to arrive, the repairs will take approximately three weeks, and then I face another three weeks for the journey, even if I push my ship to its limits. The marriage ceremony is to take place five weeks from tomorrow. You see my dilemma.”
“We do indeed,” Jack assured Hergal.
“The wedding will be over before I am even able to set out, I will be forced to forfeit on the most prestigious commission of my career this far if I cannot make alternative arrangements for transportation. I would have rented a small one-person skimmer, but there are none currently available, and no other rental vessels that could cover the distance in the time available.” Most one-person ships didn’t have sufficient range and would have to keep stopping to refuel, which would add significantly to travel time.
“You say you have only your equipment and four completed works to transport, along with yourself?”
“Yes, none of which would take up excessive space. The completed paintings I wish to take only because I am reluctant to leave them aboard my ship while repairs are carried out, and this space station does not have secure storage facilities.”
“Also, you may be able to sell them to wedding guests,” Ianto suggested.
“There is that possibility,” Hergal agreed.
“Well, in that case, I believe we can accommodate you, at the standard rate for passengers, plus a small additional fee for the paintings, provided they are properly packed to protect them from damage in transit. We will not take any responsibility if harm should come to them due to insufficient or unsuitable packaging.”
“That is understood, and readily agreed to. They are in stasis-locked crates,” Hergal assured him. “I will freely sign a waiver stating I take full responsibility for all my possessions.”
“That is agreeable,” Jack said, offering his hand across the negotiation table.
Hergal closed his fimbrils briefly around Jack’s fist. “You have my gratitude, captain. When may I board your ship?”
“Tomorrow, at ninth hour. We’ll be departing at eleventh hour. We have three stops to make along the way, but we should have you to your destination with a week to spare.”
“Then I will see you, with all my accoutrements, at ninth hour.” Rising to his walking tentacles, and bowing respectfully to both men, Hergal departed.
“Well,” said Ianto. “And there we were, worrying we wouldn’t be travelling with full holds. Now we have all that, and an important passenger too. This looks like it’s going to be an interesting trip.”
Jack grinned. “Indeed it does. Maybe we could talk our passenger into painting our portrait for our next wedding.”
The End