Florian Schwarz settled into the black leather chair across from his Captain in the ship's starboard lounge. The Breezewood's second officer was strikingly handsome with sparkling blue eyes and wavy but well kept medium length blonde hair. Captain Seabourne noted that while he wore the same stylish uniform as first officer Oldham, Florian somehow made it seem relaxed and natural while Kendra always looked pristine and polished. In a way it was a projection of their respective duties: Oldham's second hat was riding herd on the engineering department and keeping the ship running. Schwarz took point on the hospitality side.
Just coming off his shift, Schwarz ordered a Rheinbeer. The Captain, about to start his, took coffee. Seabourne took a sip of the legendary White Spa Lines roast, strong enough to keep you dancing all night but mellow enough to not need sweetening or milk, and got down to business. "What do you have for me, Florian?"
"Aside from the usual troubles I don't bother you with?" His Stuttgart accent was clean, free of the stereotypical z's and v's of most Rheinlanders. Florian's parents had been ward bosses and eventual local politicians back on Rheinland's agricultural planet. They worked closely with the eventual Chancellor Niemann's early campaigns. Communication and diction training ran in their blood. They were loyal political activists for Niemann, even naming their son for the future Chancellor. After the whole Nomad fiasco, "Florian" become something of a taboo name in the Federal Republic. When he was old enough, he fled his homeworld to work on Baden-Baden and get away from the Rheinlanders who cursed his name for Niemann's recklessness... and from those who still felt that the Chancellor hadn't gone far enough.
"I asked you for some ideas about what should become of the wrecks in Cortez." The massive Gallic battleship Betheny and the only-small-by-comparison Yukon still lay smoldering in the home system of Orbital Spa and Cruise, months after the costly fight that finally started driving the Gallic invaders back.
Florian took a swig and swallowed. "Yes, the debris fields." Seabourne inwardly winced at the description. Rheinland was the only House that was not touched by the Gallic War, even welcoming the new technologies and trade partners that could break the stranglehold of Liberty's corporations across Sirius. Seabourne still considered himself Libertonian deep down, and he had more of a visceral reaction every time they buzzed the Yukon close enough to see the half-star and stripes emblazoned on its hull. To Seabourne, the Yukon was a monument to his people's finest hour. To Schwarz, it was a navigational hazard.
"I remind you, that the debris field is a war grave."
"Apologies, cap-i-tan." Sometimes the accent slipped, especially when Florian wanted to seem contrite. Seabourne wondered if he did it on purpose or if he was even aware of it. "But yes, I have come up with a few ideas of the possibilities for the... vessels."
"First," continued the Rheinland officer, "is the status quo. The wrecks are left intact as they fell in battle and we continue to visit the site with shuttles and day trippers from Curacao recovering from their sunburns." Seabourne smiled. The enclosed and air conditioned stellar excursions were indeed used as often as not as an excuse to give the overzealous beach goers on Curacao a chance to heal. "This has the obvious benefit of requiring us to do absolutely nothing."
"I like to think we can do better. What else?"
"Well," said Schwarz, "we can always turn the vessels over for military salvage. Although I think turn over is a bit of an overstatement. More like pester the Liberty Navy and BAF to salvage what they want or even re-pressurize the Yukon and tow it out of the system. I imagine doing so is way down on the list of their respective priorities, however. Bretonia has no shortage of Gallic hardware to salvage right on their doorstep and my guess is Liberty feels no rush to deal with the situation. It is not as though the vessels are in any danger of going anywhere."
"So it would be good and cheap," replied Seabourne, "but not fast."
Schwarz rolled his icy blue eyes. "You've been spending too much time with Kendra, dear Cap-i-tan. You are starting to sound like an engineer. But I do concede that her cliched paradigms are occasionally useful. If we must 'pick two' as it were, then yes, waiting for Liberty or Bretonia to clean up their toys will be cheap and effective but I could not begin to offer you a time table."
"What else?"
"We could try to open up the site for commercial salvage. I'm sure the Junkers would love to pick those vessels clean for parts. ALG might want a go at processing what it can, though the diplomatic situation there is iffy. The IMG might even be interested in trying to re-pressurize the Yukon and tow it to Magellan as a replacement for Freeport-4. They have the experience with the Hood after all."
"I don't want Junker ships crowding Curacao's orbit any more than they already do." Seabourne had a well known dislike of the spacefaring salvagers. The cause he kept close to the chest. The effect he made well known. "And I am relatively sure the IMG are still persona non grata in Liberty. Fleet Admiral Jones would probably have something to say about them making off with one of his capital ships."
"True, so that brings us to the next possibility: a memorial site. We clean up the debris fields, float some warning beacons around the site and set up a small station nearby to serve as a memorial and observation deck, possibly even a museum to the Cortez front of the war."
"How is that an improvement from the shuttles?"
"Well, first we could run Taurus class shuttles and not just Dorados, which would open up another tier of experiences to our customers. A cheap flight to the memorial to view from a platform or a premium to get up close and personal with the observation lounge aboard a Dorado."
"And, of course," continued Schwarz, "every museum has its gift shop."
The captain gave him a flat stare, the one that said, "we are not amused" without saying a word.
"It would be a tasteful giftshop. Holosculptures of the ships, branded consumer goods with their seals and crests, VR experiences of the battle..."
The royal we continued to ooze from Seabourne's eyes.
"It has the advantage that we could pull it off entirely in house. We make the platform and stock it with whatever... tasteful experiences we want visitors to have. It would not be cheap, but it would be good and fast, to borrow First Officer Oldham's parlance."
Seabourne considered the option. It would turn the ships from forgotten hulks into a deliberate memorial, though a costly one. The trinkets would go a long way to offsetting that and towards ensuring the story continued to be told. He finished off his coffee and set down the cup on the White Spa Lines china saucer on the table.
"Crunch the numbers on the museum option," said Seabourne. "Try to get me a price a little more precise than simply 'a lot' and it might just be a viable solution."
"Right away, cap-i-tan." The Rheinlander loosened his collar every so slightly, eased back into his chair, and took another swig of beer as the Captain made his way to bridge.
