Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) by Nathan Lowell
I shrugged. “Hard telling, Ms. Arellone. Whatever it is, it’s important to her.” I nodded in the direction of the lock. “Would you hang out the Do Not Disturb sign? I’ll file our intent to depart with traffic control.”
With her usual efficiency, Ms. Maloney put lunch on the table at noon in spite of the unexpected guest. One of the advantages of soup and salad is its flexibility, and our new guests appeared to find the meal to their liking. After making introductions around the table, the brief period of awkwardness melted away as Ms. Maloney drew each passenger out. Even the reticent younger Ms. Lockhart found a kindred spirit in Ms. Arellone when they learned they shared a passion for a musical group with the unlikely name of “Entropy Gradient Inversion.”
As the meal drew to a close I went around the table in my normal pre-departure call out.
“Chief Bailey? Are the tanks topped and spares lockers stocked?”
He spared me a curious look, but nodded. “Oh, aye, Cap. Fuel and water aboard, see if they’re not.”
“Auxiliaries warmed and sails ready?”
“Kickers are hot, Cap, you know they are. Sails on safety standby but they’ll go up when you’re ready, see if they don’t.”
“Ms. Maitland? Are we fixed for stores with sufficient supplies for our journey?”
“We are, Captain. Freezers are stocked and larders are full.”
“I’ve finished the astrogation updates, and our flight plan is on file along with manifests and clearances.” I smiled around the table at crew and passengers alike. “If nobody has any objections, I’d rather like to see someplace else.” The crew chuckled, and even the elder Ms. Lockhart seemed to be enjoying the floor show. “I’ll call for navigation stations at 1500. Crew will report to duty stations, and I ask our guests to relax in their bunks until I set normal watch. It only takes about a half a stan or so to clear the local space. If you need to move about, please do so, but try to stay seated, or on your bunks, as much as possible to avoid being tossed about.”
Muriel Lockhart looked concerned. “Should we strap in, Captain?”
I smiled in a way that I hoped was re-assuring. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Ms. Lockhart.”
Ms. Hawkshaw mumbled something that sounded like a wistful, “Oh, too bad,” then looked around the table in wide-eyed innocence.
Ms. Arellone did a very credible job of stifling the chuckle.
“Any other questions?” I looked around from face to face, and got a series of small headshakes. “Then let’s clear away the mess and get ready for space!”
I stood and bussed my dirties, stacking dishes and glassware in the dishwasher. It pleased me to see everybody—crew and passenger alike—follow suit. The crew didn’t surprise me. We had sailed enough that they were pretty well used to it, but the passengers pitched in with good humor, and soon Ms. Maloney was left only with a few serving dishes and an amused expression.
“Something funny, Ms. Maitland?” I asked.
“Should be an interesting trip, Captain.” She turned her head casually glancing to where Ms. Hawkshaw flirted shamelessly with Mr. Herring.
“Indeed, Ms. Maitland. Do you suppose I should go to Mr. Herring’s assistance?”
She snorted and looked back at me. “Only if you want her chasing you, sar,” she said. “Unlike our last little difficulty, it doesn’t appear that the attention is at all unwelcome.”
I looked again and realized that our junior deckie flirted back. I sighed. “Interesting is probably an understatement, Ms. Maitland.”
She chuckled a bit evilly, as she went to work on the cooking pots.
I just shook my head, and took a fresh cup of coffee up to the bridge to double-check my numbers.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Greenfields System:
2373-March-12
Our voyage back to Diurnia got underway smoothly enough. Ms. Maloney organized a movie rotation for the evenings with a feature film each night. Most of the passengers attended. Ms. Arellone and the younger Ms. Lockhart got their headphones together over their personal music collections, and Ms. Hawkshaw pleased me immensely by corralling the earnest young Mr. Herring by the second night out of Greenfields. He appeared to enjoy her attention.
My only real problem involved trying to find which of my faithful crew was selling gossip to the newsies.
Ms. Maloney and I discussed it, but making sure they didn’t compare notes about the different stories was a knotty problem. I developed the horrible image of convincing each of them of something different, only to have them get their heads together so all three stories appeared in the press.
As I prepared to relieve Mr. Herring for the evening watch, I couldn’t help but wonder what the real harm was. Even the horrible publicity over the Dubois incident seemed to have worked in our favor. While it felt a bit dodgy to have a member of my crew telling stories out of school, once I got over the sense of betrayal, I couldn’t really think of a downside. The press already knew Ms. Maloney’s secret, and the resulting gossip generated more business for us.
I climbed the ladder to the bridge at 1740 to give myself a few minutes with Mr. Herring before I relieved the watch. He gave me a look that I couldn’t quite interpret—something between relief and dread.
“Mr. Herring? Everything okay up here?”
“Yes, sar. On course and on time, sar.” He scanned his board once more to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
I slipped into one of the extra seats in front of the console. “How’s the voyage so far, Mr. Herring?”
“What do you mean, sar?” There was a note of caution in his voice.
“Ms. Hawkshaw seems to be keeping you busy, Mr. Herring. Are you okay?”
He looked a bit embarrassed and a little guilty. A flush of color crept up his ears. “She’s...” He thought hard for a long time before adding, “lonely, sar.”
“And are you okay being her companion for this voyage?” I tried to look him in the eyes, but he wouldn’t look at me. “She seemed rather persistent. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, you know.”
He looked up at me, alarm across his face. “No! That is, no, sar. She’s really fun to be with, and it’s kinda nice not going back to an empty compartment.” The way his hands twitched I feared for the stability of the ship should he take hold of the helm to steady them. He didn’t appear to know what to do with them.
I took some pity on him. “Mr. Herring? Enjoy yourself as long as she’s up for the game, but remember we’ll be in Diurnia in a few days, and she’ll be going ashore.”
He looked at me then. “Yes, sar, I got that part. She reminds me all the time.”
“Well, as long as you’re having fun...” I left that open and he nodded shyly. “My only other suggestion is to clip your fingernails.”
“Sar?” He looked very confused.
“Clip your nails, Mr. Herring. You’ll be glad you did.”
He still didn’t understand, but I saw him grab a glance at his fingers.
“Let’s relieve the watch, Mr. Herring. You’ve got a busy night ahead.”
Looking relieved to be off the subject, he rapidly swapped the logs over, and stood up from the chair. I took the seat, and he fled down the ladder.
I sighed. I had done what I could, but as long as both parties seemed willing, there wasn’t much I could say. I was just grateful he was too busy with Ms. Hawkshaw to be sniffing after the younger Ms. Lockhart.
With the watch relieved, I ran through the various ship’s status displays and assured myself we were in position, on course, and on time. The ship looked fine, so I dropped down the ladder to join the dinner mess at 1800.
Ms. Maloney had outdone herself with little individually dished onion soups for openers, a lovely beef en croute for the main course, and small dishes of ice cream for dessert. Each meal, I marveled at her ability to balance textures and weights. The ice cream made a perfect finish after the substantial soup and beef courses.
We rode the beam all the way to the burleson limit and jumped on the seventeenth. I only had a couple of days after that to finish preparing for ratings exams.
Ms. Maloney had a bit of a scheduling problem when it came time for her exam. Spec one takes several stans and she needed to fit it in between breakfast and luncheon. Ms. Arellone and I volunteered to clean up the mess deck after breakfast mess and she made up the lunch mess in advance so when she reported to the cabin to take her spec one chef exam right after breakfast, she had until almost noon to finish it.
In the end, she passed with flying colors. It wasn’t a perfect score, but it was well above passing, and I immediately conferred upon her the rank and title appropriate to her new rating. Being the owner of the vessel, I could make those kinds of executive decisions, and I took great satisfaction at making that one.
Ms. Arellone had the afternoon bridge watch, and I arranged the spec one shiphandler exam so she could take it on the engineering console. I sat in the pilot’s chair to cover her watch while she waded through the test. It took her from 1300 until almost 1630 to get through it, but she kept her head, and just kept plowing until she got done. In the end, she squeaked by, the navigational maths gave her the most trouble, but she passed. It seemed only fair that I grant it to her as well.
When Mr. Herring relieved her at 1745, I stayed on the bridge.
I opened the conversation by stating the obvious. “You didn’t want to take any of the rating exams, Mr. Herring?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t see the point, Captain. I’m already rated able spacer, and I don’t really care for all that specialization stuff.”
“Would you like be able spacer here, instead of ordinary, Mr. Herring?”
“Well, sure, Captain.” He looked at me guardedly. “What do I have to do?”
“Help out while we’re in port. Day work sometimes when we’re underway.” I shrugged. “As it is, we dock, you go ashore, and come back in time to get underway again. You might have noticed that we’ve got a lot to do when we’re docked to make sure the ship’s ready to take on passengers.”
He nodded. “I was surprised, Captain.”
“We appreciated the help at Greenfields, Mr. Herring. Keep that up and I’ll give you the promotion to able spacer.”
“That’s it, sar?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr. Herring. You can still go out at night but if you help out during the day, that’s really all I ask. It might be nothing but hanging around drinking coffee and eating bon-bons, but sometimes it’ll be cleaning or painting. Nothing too strenuous, as a rule. Just having another set of eyes sometimes makes all the difference.”
He looked at me disbelief on his face. “That doesn’t seem like much, sar.”
I shrugged. “Every little bit helps, Mr. Herring.”
“Ok, sar. I’ll try it out when we get to Diurnia, and you can let me know after that?”
“Very fair, Mr. Herring. Thank you.”
I headed down the ladder for a fast stop in my cabin before dinner mess. I washed some of the day’s grime off my face, and pondered again the problem of the leak among the crew. I still had no clear way to deal with it, short of firing the lot of them.
The chrono clicked up to 1800. I stepped out of the cabin on my way to the galley, just in time to see the elder Ms. Lockhart being squired out of Mr. Tharpe’s compartment. She started when she me and her hand went to the top button of her blouse, but I smiled and nodded to them as Mr. Tharpe offered her his arm. I continued on into the galley, musing over how right Ms. Maloney had been about the power of a good mattress and a view of the stars. Some of our passengers weren’t waiting for the honeymoon to try it out.
When I got into the galley, Ms. Hawkshaw and the younger Ms. Lockhart waited at the table with Ms. Arellone. Technically it wasn’t proper shipboard etiquette for them to be seated before the captain, but we established early on that they need not stand on ceremony—in this case, literally—for me.
Mr. Tharpe escorted Ms. Lockhart into the galley, releasing her arm and allowing her to enter before him. Her daughter gave her a friendly nod, and went back to her discussion with Ms. Arellone. They talked about some finer point of either quantum physics or a band they knew in common. I couldn’t be sure which based on the context.
Ms. Hawkshaw beamed at me, her face glowing and her brown eyes bright and dancing. She was a handsome woman, and I hoped Mr. Herring valued the education she gave him. I suspected that, like most callow youths, he wouldn’t until much later in life. I know it took me several stanyers before I valued my own education.
The chief came shambling into the galley just as Ms. Maloney declared the dinner mess open, and we started passing food, family-style, around the table. There was an air of celebration around the table, our passengers aware of the ratings exams that Ms. Arellone and Ms. Maloney took.
As the dinner progressed, I found myself enjoying the larger group. They seemed very nice people, each on their way to somewhere else, each passing the time the best way they could and appearing to enjoy the unique capabilities of the Iris. In spite of myself, I couldn’t help thinking how much I wanted someone to share it with myself. The thought of sapphire eyes laughing by my side brought a sudden and unexpected lump to my throat that the coffee couldn’t wash away.
I sighed quietly to myself, I thought, although Ms. Maloney must have heard because she shot me a questioning glance. I shrugged, and pretended to listen to what Ms. Hawkshaw was saying.
After dinner, I didn’t stay around for movie night, choosing to leave the festivities to the passengers and crew to enjoy without my august presence among them. Instead, I went to my cabin, opened the port and sat on my bunk, staring out into the Deep Dark and remembering.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Diurnia Orbital:
2373-March-23
For the first time, we docked in Diurnia with neither cargo nor passengers booked for an outbound leg. If any of the crew noticed, they didn’t say anything, but I had a certain sense of foreboding.
The ninety-day note that Larks, Simpson, and Greene floated was due on the twenty-sixth. It took on an almost physical presence looming above me. In theory the accounting company would take ownership of the collateral because I didn’t have the eight million credits needed to sink the note. On the plus side, my understanding of the deal was that they would just get ownership of the note for a substantially discounted price, since every other share had a book value of ten million.
On top of that, I needed to fire Chief Bailey, find a new chief engineer, and only then could I begin looking for cargoes and passengers again.
Assuming I still owned a ship.
I dropped a note to Mr. Simpson as soon as we docked. He had given me good advice while founding the company, and I hoped he had more of it.
That still left me with the tasks of getting the cargo and passengers ashore, clearing up my personnel issues, and the little problem of having a snitch in the woodwork.
Mr. Tharpe left the ship almost as soon as we docked and cleared Confederation customs.
“Good bye, Captain,” he said as I let him out the lock. “It was a very pleasant trip, and I’m sure you’re going to do very well in your new effort.” There was a twinkle in his eye that I chalked up to his extra hours activities with the very charming elder Ms. Lockhart.
“Thanks, Mr. Tharpe. I hope we get to sail together again.”
He grinned and nodded. “Could happen, Captain. It’s a small universe.” He turned and his grav trunks followed him down the ramp and out onto the dock, leaving me to button up.
Our first full day in port saw the normal amount of to and fro with the cargo handlers. No
Around 1030 the Lockharts checked out. I opened the lock for them while they said good-byes to Ms. Maloney. The elder Ms. Lockhart fairly glowed while the younger considered her mother with a certain level of disdain. The elder looked unconcerned, and twitted her daughter for the disapproving looks with silent smirks.
“Thank you, Captain,” the elder shook my hand firmly. She seemed much more confident than when coming aboard, and even her voice sounded more relaxed, a half-tone lower. “It was a marvelous voyage.” With a sly glance at her daughter, she added, “And so fast. I wouldn’t have minded another night or two.”
It was too much for the younger who moaned in the time-honored teen tradition, “Moth-er!”
The elder chuckled and, with a last nod to Ms. Maloney, dragged their grav trunk off the ship leaving the younger to scamper to keep up. They reached the dock safely, and waved as I lifted the ramp once more.
“She certainly enjoyed herself,” Ms. Maloney said behind me.
“Muriel?” I asked.
She nodded. “Maybe not as much fun as Ms. Hawkshaw, but I think it was close.”
“Did I hear my name?” Ms. Hawkshaw’s voice came from the ladder.
We turned to find her picking her way elegantly down the ladder as if the metal rungs were the staircase in a grand ballroom, Mr. Herring trailing behind. Her elegantly tailored, gray walking suit was highlighted with a peach colored silk blouse, tastefully unbuttoned to display without being obscene.
Ms. Hawkshaw gave Ms. Maloney the ritual dual-cheek air kiss. “Good luck, my dear. Excellent food. Wonderful service.”
“Thank you so much, Ms. Hawkshaw. It was great fun having you with us.”
Ms. Hawkshaw turned to me. “Captain? I can’t thank you enough for the voyage. I can’t remember when I’ve had a more relaxing trip. The passage from Greenfields is so dreary.” She offered her hand, and clasped mine in both of hers when I took it. “You’ve got a wonderful crew, and I don’t just mean this dear boy.” She nodded to where Mr. Herring waited with a blush creeping up his neck. She leaned in to confide in me with a stage whisper loud enough to be heard on the docks. “A man would be a fool to let her get away.” She arched her eyebrow in Ms. Maloney’s direction. “A fool,” she repeated with a wink and a nod. She patted my hand. “Take care, Captain.”