That one had the right spirit, and would find his path among Tinkers.
Wealth...
Olsen smiled, thinking about a discussion he had experienced with the joung Fynn some jears ago, ah he just got to know him.
They had just filled up some transports with scrap and where flying back towards Beaumont with some expecially valuable findings as an emergency call came through open channels : a civilian transport and an armoured shuttle carrying some pleasure tourists had collided, drifting towards the pelaqua nera with deactivated engines and a hullbreak about to occur. Fynn had convinced the crew of one of the transports and all three scrapping vehicles to desert the scrap, and they had managed to save the passengers and crews of the two ships before the core of the heavily damaged transport exploded.
Olsen had thought that Fynn was crazy at that time, deserting all the profit from a full ships load for libertonian dumbwhits and not even selling them as slaves or taking ransom money... but the bonus they got from the Father of one of the rich passengers and the salvage they later on got from scrapping the Pelican shuttle was a good days pay to. And as Fynn later on took him and the other scrappers to the carefully charted and marked location where they had lleft the load of scrap in time to get it back...
"All true wealth is biological, Olsen" Fynn had told him , in the middle of the heated and angry discussion : " People are wealth, life. Not dead scrap or floating debris. Its the junkers like us and the civilians out there that make a home, not the steel we cover us with. And if we start to care more about us than them, if we start to value our profit more than any single life, we are no better than a Hogosha slaver or a bankier selling his own people to the Maltese to pay for his next facelifting by Cryer doctors."
Cash comes and goes, like the air we breathe. Olsen had learned that well.
And was happy to see that the spirit still existed.