Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) by Nathan Lowell
“Mr. Maloney was ahead of me and got this approved just a couple of weeks ago.”
The mention of Maloney added a somber tone to the table and almost everybody went back to their meals.
“But why, sar?”
I looked across to where Ms. Thomas still studied my face.
“Why did he do this for me?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but Ms. Kingsley said he thought you’d make a good skipper and he wanted to give you a chance.”
Mr. Wyatt smiled fondly at Ms. Thomas but Chief Gerheart kept her eyes hooded. Beside her, Ms. Arellone wasn’t paying any attention to them, but I was startled to see her watching me like a cat watches a bird outside the window.
Mr. Pall looked over at me. “So? Did Ms. Kingsley have anything else to say, Skipper?”
Silence descended at that question as all eyes turned to me. I glanced around and saw that everybody but Ms. Arellone had cleaned their plates. Most were just sipping their coffees and waiting. I looked down the table to see Mr. Hill grinning back at me.
“As a matter of fact she did.” I looked from face to face, gathering them in before I went on. “There are probably going to be some changes here and not necessarily the ones you think.”
I sipped my coffee to think about how much I could tell them, because it was obvious I needed to tell them something.
“The company is planning on losing a lot of people when then settlement from the Chernyakova comes in.” They grinned at me.
“Will you be one of them, Skipper?” Mr. Wyatt asked, innocence fairly dripping from his voice.
“I don’t know yet, Mr. Wyatt.” I could see that wasn’t exactly the answer they were expecting. “What they’re most concerned with is that they’re going to lose most of the crew of the Tinker.”
Nobody blinked.
“The company stands to earn a lot of credits as well. They will be consolidating the fleet, and working to get the new CEO up to speed.”
Mr. Pall perked up at that. “Who’s going to be the new CEO?”
“Ames Jarvis will be acting CEO for the time being.” I looked around the table. Chief Gerheart still wasn’t looking me in the eye and I wondered what was on her mind. I sipped my coffee before adding, “It’ll probably be a stanyer before they get it all sorted out.”
“So, where did you go with Ms. Kingsley, Captain?” Ms. Arellone had a sly grin but I saw the chief flinch at the question.
“Maintenance docks to look at a ship they’re going to retire.”
“Gonna buy it, sar?” Ms. Arellone sipped her coffee with a bland expression on her face.
I looked at her sharply. “Buy it, Ms. Arellone?”
“The Jezebel. Are they trying to sell it to you?”
All eyes went to her and she looked from face to face in alarm.
“What? I had a few drinks with Samantha Wilson last night. She was crew on the Jez and had quite a lot to say about being beached.” She looked back to me. “So? Are ya gonna buy it, Skipper?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know yet, Ms. Arellone.”
The eyes all shifted back to my end of the table.
“But you’re thinking about it?” she said.
I scanned the faces, many of whom looked concerned and in that delay knew I had only one answer. “I’m thinking about it.” I could see them all inhale and forestalled comment by holding up my hand .“I’m just thinking about it. The Chernyakova hasn’t even been auctioned off yet, and until it does, and we see what those shares are, I’m just guessing like everybody else.” I lowered my hand and looked around again. They seemed to be calming down. “In the meantime we’ve got a ship to run.” I looked to the chief. “How are we in Engineering, Chief? Tankage topping off? We need any spares?”
Chief Gerheart looked up at me for the first time and I could still see something in her eyes but I couldn’t read it. “Tanks will be topped off by noon, Captain. I’ve got to check the stores for replacement filter cartridges but we’ll have a full complement by tomorrow. Port side sail generator has a bit of a wobble in it that I need to look at, but it’s probably just a loose coil. It happens every so often.”
I nodded. “We’ve pushed the girls hard over the last stanyer. How soon before our next yard availability?”
She shook her head. “I’d have to check the records but it’s at least another stanyer out.”
“Thank you, Chief.” I turned to Mr. Wyatt. “Stores orders placed, Mr. Wyatt?”
“Yes, Captain. Should have stores aboard by this time tomorrow. And our new cans will be up from the dispatch yard tomorrow afternoon. Plenty of time.”
“Mr. Pall? Are there many astrogation updates this trip?”
He shook his head. “No, sar. A few but nothing serious on this end of the sector. We’ve got system backups to do, though, and I’ll have the shore-side copies up at home office by tomorrow.”
I turned down to look at the ratings. “How are you all fixed at the co-op?”
Mr. Hill and Ms. Arellone looked to Mr. Schubert to report. He grinned, and turned to me. “We’ve booked a table for three days, Skipper.” He looked at the chrono on the bulkhead. “I need to be heading up there soon. Ms. Arellone is going to help me. We got some excellent textiles on Breakall and we have a few other odds and ends to sell off.”
“Excellent!” I looked around the table .“Thank you, all. I really appreciate the work you all put in.” I paused .“We’ve come a long way in a year, but there’s still a lot to do. Mr. Maloney’s passing is a blow, and it’s going to cause reverberations up and down the chain of command. Having it happen now, with the prize money from the Chernyakova due in a couple of weeks, just adds to the general confusion, but if we focus on what’s in front of us—keep our eyes on what’s important—then we’ll sail out of the storm in good shape.”
That seemed to satisfy them for the most part and they looked around at each other for a moment before Mr. Hill rose, bussed his dirty dishes, and headed back for the brow without a word. As if it were a signal, everybody else started moving at once.
Within half a stan, the breakfast mess was cleared away, the crew was off on their various tasks—including Ms. Thomas looking shipshape and Bristol fashion in her undress uniform on her way to the union offices for day one of her captain’s examination.
For my part, I helped Mr. Wyatt clean up the galley and mess deck. As he finished stowing the last of the cleaned cooking gear, I snagged a cup of fresh coffee and settled back at the table. He soon joined me with a cup of his own, and eyed me over the rim of his mug.
“What?” I asked.
He smiled a little but he didn’t look happy .“How soon before you’re off the ship, skipper?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure, Avery.”
“They told you, though, right? You’re being reassigned?” He spoke quietly but never took his eyes off my face.
“In a manner of speaking.” I gave a little shrug. “I’m fired.”
He blinked at me and set his coffee cup down on the table with an audible click. “Fired? On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that I’m going to be too rich to want to work for them any longer.” I let him chew on that for a few heartbeats before I continued. “I suspect that it’s more convenience than reality. If I want to stay on, I suspect they’d let me.” In truth, I wasn’t sure if I really believed that, but it was a useful fiction.
“How rich?”
I shrugged again. “Nobody knows until the Chernaykova sells.”
“Bull. They’ve got a guess that’s better than a coin toss. I bet they know within a few percent what it’ll fetch at auction.”
“A ten million.” I said it quietly, still not quite used to it myself.
“Bull! It’ll go for a lot more than that.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s how much they think my share will come to. If the ship sells for what they think it’ll get, anybody who was on the Tinker on that trip will be a millionaire.”
He blinked at me silently as he tried to process it.
“Boggling, isn’t it?” I asked.
His head started shaking back and forth slowly. “Ten million credits? You’re going to be rich?”
My left shoulder hunched in a half shrug. “Compared to that, my princely wage here is rounding error.”
Eventually Avery regained control of his mouth. “What are you going to do?”
I sighed. “Good question. With that much money, I’m not exactly up there with the Maloneys and the Schumanns and all, but I’m definitely swimming in a deeper pool than I’m used to.”
“You know what this means, don’t you, Ishmael?” He looked at me with a kindly smile.
“You tell me. I’m so buried in possibilities, I’m not sure which end is up, and I’m still thinking that when the dust settles this is going to have been just pipe dreams. I’ll clear a few thousand, and be back at work on the next ship out.”
He shook his head. “Even if it’s only one million, that’s enough to retire on. You could probably live off the income from that and be very comfortable for the rest of your life.” He paused to let me consider that. “You and the chief could get a little place down on the ground, raise up a batch of little shipmates...”
He saw the stricken look on my face and his voice trailed off.
“The chief and I won’t be doing anything.” I tried to keep my voice low and level but was surprised how hard that was. “At least nothing like that.”
He frowned. “Why? I thought you were head over heels for her.”
It must have been my turn for the dumb blinking. I felt like he’d hit me on the back of the head and all I could do was stare at him.
“What? You think we’re blind?” The smile crept back across his face. “Things have been a little odd here for awhile, but I thought, that is Gwen and I both thought...” He could see he wasn’t connecting with my higher brain functions. “What? Something’s happened?”
“We had a little chat and she made it clear that she’s not interested in an extended relationship with me. It’s impossible while I’m captain and she’s in my crew anyway, but she made it quite clear that I’m not on her manifest.”
He placed both palms on the table and pushed himself upright. “Is that what she told you?” The disbelief sounded plainly in his voice.
I grimaced and nodded. “Yeah. She caught me coming off watch about a week ago. We had a rather short and brutal conversation in the cabin. She made it pretty clear to me. Things have been a bit smoother since.”
He just looked at me like I was crazy before asking again, “That’s what she told you?”
“Yes, that’s what she told me.” I sighed and took a deep swig off my coffee.
“All right then,” he murmured, almost to himself. “So, now what?”
I shook my head. “Now we keep the ship together, wait for the outcome of the Captain’s Board, and see what happens day after tomorrow.”
“What happens day after tomorrow?” He’d lost the smug smile and seemed as confused as I felt.
“We hire a new First Mate to replace Gwen and get this cargo moving to Jett.”
His face flashed into panic. “What? What do you mean replace Gwen! Where’s Gwen going?” Even in his distress his voice hissed out quietly although judging from his look I thought he might want to scream. I know I did.
“She’s going into the captain’s cabin,” I told him flatly. “Assuming she wants it. Does she?”
“Well, of course, but what about you?”
“I go ashore.”
“And do what?”
“Wait for the auction payout, and maybe help DST with refitting that ship for sale.”
“What? The Jezebel?”
“Yeah. It’s a bit of a wreck at the moment, but cleaned up, straightened out, and crewed properly, it might be something.”
He slumped into his seat again. “So, you’re thinking about going indie?”
I sighed and shrugged. “It’s the obvious choice and with that kind of windfall, I’ll never have a better chance.”
We sat there for a few ticks, sipping our coffee but I’m not sure either of us tasted it.
“Don’t tell Gwen.” I looked across at him. “Tonight when she gets back. Don’t tell her until after she gets through the interview.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”
“Because it’ll be hard enough for her to do without sitting there thinking she’s gonna be sitting in the Captain’s chair before the week is out.”
He frowned. “That’s not usually how it works.”
“I know, but it’s something Maloney himself arranged before he died. He even reconvened her last panel so he must have thought she’d have a good chance.”
“But by the end of the week?”
“Kirsten Kingsley seemed to think so, and I’m not betting against that woman on a political wager.”
He snorted and we drank quietly for another few ticks before we were interrupted by the raucous sound of the lock’s call buzzer and we heard the lock mechanism open.
Avery looked at me in question and I shrugged. “Maybe an encyclopedia salesman.”
“A what?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. Ancient reference. Something my mother used to say.”
“Skipper? It’s for you.” Mr. Hill stood in the door to the mess deck with a burly looking man in a nicely tailored business suit with a briefcase under his arm.
I stood and crossed to meet him.
“Good morning, Captain. I’m Richard Larks, partner at Larks, Simpson, and Greene. Kirsten Kingsley asked me to visit you.”
“Larks, Simpson, and Greene,” I repeated trying to dredge up the name.
“Yes, Captain. We’ve been helping the Maloney family with their financial strategies for almost a century. My grandfather worked with Philo Maloney himself back in the beginning.”
“Impressive. Did Ms. Kingsley tell you why you should come see me on the ship today, Mr. Larks?”
He smiled. “She did, and might I suggest we go someplace where we can sit and chat? I think we have much to discuss.”
I turned to Mr. Hill. “Thank you, Mr. Hill. I’ll be in the cabin if you need me?”
He gave a little nod and headed back down the passage. He’d ask later, if I knew Mr. Hill. The curiosity would eat at him until he did.
“Coffee, Mr. Larks?”
“Only if it’s no bother, Captain.”
I looked over my shoulder, “Mr. Wyatt, could I trouble you for a tray?”
“Of course, Skipper. You gents go on up and I’ll bring you one in a moment.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wyatt.” I turned to my mountainous guest and nodded to the ladder. “This way, Mr. Larks.”
Chapter Five
Diurnia Orbital:
2372-December-18
Mr. Wyatt had the coffee service in the cabin almost before we settled and he grinned at me as he slipped out, latching the door behind him. Mr. Larks made appreciative noises over the coffee and looked around at the room.
“You look very comfortable here, Captain.”
“Thanks. It’s where I call home, and given how much time I can’t live anywhere else, it’s just as well.”
His laugh was a low rumble in his chest. “Makes sense, I suppose.” He sipped once more and then leaned forward, propping elbows on knees and clasping his hands in front of him. “So? How can I help you, Captain Wang?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Larks. What do you do? And how much will it cost me?”
He cocked his head as if to listen better out of his right ear. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m confused. Ms. Kingsley asked me to come help you with some financial planning. This trip costs you nothing, other than this coffee and a little time.”
“Yes, she said I should contact a financial planner. I didn’t realize she’d precipitate the meeting.”
“She said you’re about to come into a lot of money and that you neede
“Did she say any more than that?”
He shook his massive head. “Only that she’d take it as a personal favor and I would probably find it worthwhile.”
“Well, she thinks I’m going to be coming into a lot of money, and she’s probably right. This is out of my league, so some professional advice is probably called for.”
He nodded, his eyes fixed on my face. “I’ll need to know how much money, and maybe something about where it’s coming from...”
“Do you know about the salvage claim against the Chernyakova? DST has a substantial stake in that.”
“Of course, they stand to make a nice bonus on that. Even for a company the size of DST, it’s predicted to be a nice number.” He stopped in mid-thought and recognition blossomed on his face. “Ishmael Wang? You led the prize crew! Of course.”
“That’s me.”
“I apologize, Captain. I didn’t make the connection because you’re listed as First Mate on the documentation. Congratulations on making captain.”
“Thanks. So, you know that I’m going to get a big slice of that bonus.”
“Indeed you are. I think you’ll wind up with almost as much as the company gets. That’s usually the way it plays out, although, I confess, we’ve never seen a salvage claim this big. Usually they’re burned out hulks, or parts of hulks.”
“If this one had hit a rock, it might have been. We got to it before that happened.”
He raised his mug in my direction. “Well, congratulations. What do you want to do with your money?” He grinned playfully.
I shrugged and leaned back on the sofa. “I don’t know. What are my options?”
He placed his mug down on the table and sat back himself. “Hm. Well, for a company like DST, it’s respectable, but for an individual, this is huge. I take it you’re not already independently wealthy or already employing a team of tax accountants?”
I chuckled. “Safe assumption.”
He nodded and I could see him shifting his focus inward. “Your share is probably going to come in between five and ten million. The first task is to protect as much of that as possible from tax exposure.”
I hadn’t even considered taxes, but I grimaced inwardly as I realized that I should have.