"So where did they find it?" asked West of Mr. Sanford, the manager of the small salvage yard just outside Lake Town. The two men were walking across the gravel between the office and the broad, fenced-in yard where West's ship, the Rocinanté, rested.
"A Starfleet Cat's Eye patrolling out in the Kuiper Belt noticed it floating in a loose orbit around a large dark comet," replied Sanford. "No one was aboard, so they checked the registration, found out who it belonged to, and towed it back here."
West grunted in reply. He was glad to get his precious ship back after having had it stolen from him by Vince Kelly, but at the same time was a little distressed by the condition it was in. One of the landing struts was bent, causing the whole ship to lean to starboard, and there were a host of brand new scorch marks all over the hull, presumably from where it had narrowly avoided the blast from the aborted nova bomb.
Sanford unlocked the gate in the fence surrounding the Rocinanté and let West in. West ran his hand in a loving caress over the dull gray hull of his ship and smiled. She had a few more dents, but she was back! Turning to Sanford, he said, "Well, thanks for rescuing the ol' girl, Pops, so if you'll just release the lock codes I'll be on my way."
"Sure, no problem," replied Sanford. "All I need is your thumbprint here--" he handed West a padd "--and the fee, and she's all yours."
"Uh-- Fee?"
"Yessiree. Two-hundred credits."
"Two-hundred?!?" cried West, incredulous. "For what?"
"Well," replied Sanford, scratching the gray stubble on his chin, "there's the salvage fee, the towing fee, the storage fee, plus the costs for fuel, rent, Starfleet services, my salary, the permit fees, the--"
West waved his hands in surrender. "I get the picture!" he said crossly. "But I sure as heck don't have that kind of money. There's gotta be some kind of arrangement we can come to, huh? Some kind of deal? Just between you and me."
But Sanford would have none of it. He shook his head sadly and said as sympathetically as he could, "Sorry, mister. No credits, no spaceship. Simple as that."
West thought desperately for a moment, then a thought struck him and a gleam brightened his eye. Had Sanford known West, he would have recognized the gleam and been on his guard, but as it was, he had no idea what was about to happen.
"Tell you what," began West earnestly. He took Sanford around the shoulders in a great display of camaraderie and led him away from the Rocinanté. "I'll make you a wager, friend," he continued confidentially, "but only because I can see you're an honest man."
Sanford allowed himself to be steered away from the ship, but eyed the smooth-talking West with a measure of suspicion. "What sort of wager?" he asked skeptically.
"A simple game of chance," explained West. "I win, I get to take my ship and go home." Sanford was about to protest, but West cut him off. "But if you win, Mr. Sanford, I'll give you the Rocinanté! How does that strike you?"
"Well… I don't know," replied Sanford hesitantly. He suspected some kind of scam here, but on the other hand, if he won… "What sort of game did you have in mind?" he asked West.
West smiled because he knew he'd won. With his most guileless voice, he asked the hapless salvage yard manager, "Ever hear of fizzbin?"
back to TOC