by LeRoy Clary
“Not really. Maybe a fraction of the extra ten percent we got from the cargo salvage would pay for buying a shop. Several of them, and more.”
“How much did the Administrator deduct for the cargo pods you kept?”
“Nothing. I didn’t tell him what we believed inside them. After a brief inspection, he agreed it was a biological gel of undetermined usage, so it could not be valued properly. I may have suggested that when combined with certain scents it could be sold as a cream to soften the skin of most humanoid creatures. A handy profit might be made in the beauty market. I felt his derision from across the cargo bay. He didn’t even attempt to lower his offer.”
I laughed. The arrogant Simian had been bested by my captain on at least three occasions, and probably only recognized one of them. That was the kind of woman I’d be working for. My future was waiting for me to pack and I had nothing, so I was ready.
We made our way to the shuttle bay and found the rest of our friends already gathered. The arriving shuttle matching atmospheric pressure and we were ready to leave the Dreamer for the last time.
The shuttle was a working craft, little more than a metal tube with thin, removable seats bolted to the floor. There were no windows. The pilot sat up front where she watched screens and readouts.
It was odd to have a live pilot. The shuttle flew itself better than any pilot could. The woman in the seat had the most boring job imaginable. I decided it was probably a holdover by a race new to computers and space.
Captain Stone confirmed my ideas when she said, “I’ve never been on a shuttle with a pilot.”
Lila had chosen the seat next to me. The row was two seats wide, and Bill was behind us. I’d noticed the strained expression he wore when she took the seat. Bill and I had a lot of history and he was my best friend. I’d make certain we were together later.
What the shuttle did have were cameras mounted outside the hull and five screens on the inside of each wall, as well as two larger ones directly in front of us. In some ways, it was better than windows.
Heshmat Habitat floated in the dark black of space ahead, a mass of modules connected by tubes. Spikes erupted from several places and ships were coupled to the ends. Flexible tubes allowed movement between ships and the Hab. A large central structure dwarfed even the largest ships and I assumed that it was the mall with the shops, bars, restaurants, and entertainment.
Those things were self-evident, and I ignored them as my eyes searched for and found the Escolta. I held my breath. It was beautiful.
Captain Stone giggled like a young girl at my reaction.
Other ships were either bare metal or painted a dull white or whatever.
The nose of the Escolta’s hull was a deep blue, with dozens of white stars of different sizes painted in random places. The rest of the hull was a pale blue with painted red and yellow flames licking up the sides. They seemed to appear from where the engine discharged particles to push them ahead.
She had said the First Officer had an eye for making her ship stand out. It certainly did that.
Details emerged. It was not too much longer than other ships that I identified as traders. It was wider. Much wider, which gave it a squat appearance. I did some mental juggling and realized the inside was huge.
The ships traders used were typically about ten meters in diameter. The Escolta looked more than twice that. Those numbers were deceiving.
Fang had explained it to me. A typical trader had about seventy square meters of floor space on each of four decks. That included life support equipment, food preparation, engineering, bridge, and cargo bays. The living area was scrunched and often used the hot-bed system where two people shared a bed on opposing ten-hour cycles. The smaller the configuration for the crew, the more cargo a ship could carry, thus earn more profit. The crews were kept to a bare minimum.
The Escolta had been built to carry troops and supplies. To accommodate the shifting needs, there were few permanent internal walls on each deck. But the diameter was the deceptive difference. While only slightly longer, at well over twice the diameter, the internal space on it was nearer five-hundred square meters on each deck instead of seventy like the other ships.
The five hundred could be configured in multiple ways to meet their needs, and of course, the ship could easily carry six times as much volume. That meant my new ship could carry far larger loads if they were not too heavy.
Mass equals increased fuel. Or more easily put, it cost more to haul heavy stuff. Not that Escolta couldn’t do it. She could for the right price, as Fang put it.
Those thoughts pounded my head as I looked at my future home. The smile was hurting my cheeks and I realized nobody on the shuttle was talking. I glanced at Lila and found her eyes locked on the view screen. Behind, Bill wore the same silly grin as I did.
Other shuttles floated out there. Some were under power. I looked behind and found the Dreamer alone against the blackness of space awaiting the owners, new Comm Officer, and Captain. They would probably sign on a new steward to replace Lila.
Thinking of her seemed to trigger her to talk. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I told her about it being a troop transport with newer engines, and a few other facts I’d gathered. The view slowly shifted as we neared the Hab. We were not being taken directly to the Escolta, but to a commercial shuttle bay. It occurred to me that if I owned a ship, I wouldn’t want a shuttle operated by strangers bumping into my ship. I’d want my shuttle and my pilots scooting around my ship.
Docking was gentle and anticlimactic. The shuttle hatch opened.
Captain Stone said, “I have a few instructions. Your wrist-comps have Escolta’s address and you will find adequate credit balances have been added to your accounts. Do not carry your purchases. There will be too many. Pay to have them delivered.”
She was smiling.
Nobody got up to leave the shuttle.
She said, “Pay attention. I’ve set a timer on your wrist-comps. Please understand that you may not have the opportunity to shop for personal items again, soon. Just so we are clear, each of you will purchase at least five sets of overalls to wear daily for work, along with comfortable shoes. Your wrist-coms hold the information. Give the order to any chandler where you shop.”
She paused and looked at each of us. “You will also order the dress uniforms on your wrist-comps. Then you will shop for casual clothing, at least ten outfits for each of you. No need to buy food except for Bert and Fang. You buy what you want. Are there any questions?”
There were none.
Oddly, Bert waddled out first and Fang hopped right behind. They had bonded and were now a pair. Bill came to my side and I couldn’t be rude and leave Lila on her own. “Bill, Lila will come with us.”
A spark of interest flashed in his eyes.
She said, “I can shop on my own.”
Bill stepped between her and me, his eyes on hers. He said, “No, we will be happy if you join us.”
His back was to me, almost pushing me away. When he turned to the hatch, he again found a way to insert himself between us, but his attention was on her. I started to fume.
The terminal was cluttered, loud, and busy. Hawkers shouted their services offered, like any bazaar on Roma. Beings of different races vied for our attention. Whatever we wished they could provide, or so they told us. Again, it was not much different from the entertainment district of Roma. We silently pushed our way through, me in the lead, my left wrist held high enough to follow the simple map displayed to the shopping area.
As the captain had told us, I pulled up the location of a chandlery, which turned out to be a store that sold anything related to a ship. We strode down a small passageway wide enough for two in either direction to pass. Bill and Lila walked behind while I led the way. That was not the way I’d planned it but that’s how it worked out. They seemed together no matter what.
Inside the chandlery stood a Whippet, which was a tall, thin, being from a low gravity world. It met
us and after introductions, took our orders from our wrist-comps and used a sizing machine that measured us through our clothing to ensure a perfect fit. We thumbed the payment request, a number that had me gulping in awe and thinking Captain Stone might murder me for the purchase.
Each of the outfits cost more than Bill and I had won betting on the captain to win at the coliseum, which had been the most credits either of us had ever owned at one time. And there were many uniforms for each of us to buy.
I wanted to discuss it with Bill, but he was still ignoring me.
The Whippet gave us directions to several clothing stores where they sold quality at reasonable prices. She assured us our uniform purchases would be waiting at the Escolta when we got there.
A glance at my wrist told me we had plenty of time. The chandlery was in the industrial section near where the ships were docked, along with bars and gambling houses. We entered a new section of the hab, the pedestrian avenue as wide as any road on Roma.
Within a few steps, I spotted at least ten races new to me, dozens that were familiar, and gaudy advertisements above the doors to the shops, most with life-like avatars demonstrating and displaying what was sold inside. I steered the three of us to a clothing store, larger than most, and advertising reasonable prices.
“Reasonable” is a relative term, I learned. However, Captain Stone had told us what to buy and if the cost were too high, she could deduct it from my future pay. I suggested we split up, thinking Lila and I would go to the section where the clothing for female Earthlings was displayed in holos that floated above.
Bill accompanied us. He complimented Lila on anything she lifted to examine. When I asked his opinion, he grunted without looking. I made my selections alone and when finished, found the two of them standing several meters away, mutually selecting his clothing.
I paid and gave the delivery instructions to the bot.
When I rejoined them, they were discussing what and where to eat. Their plans didn’t seem to include me. I said, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head to the Escolta. I’m a little tired.”
“See you there,” Bill said, hardly looking my way.
I left them standing there looking at each other. It wouldn’t surprise me if they remained there for the rest of the day. Part of me felt jealous. Not as much as I would have expected, maybe because I liked Lila. A better choice for a romance for Bill would be difficult to find.
If it didn’t work out, both would remain my friends.
The hatch to the Escolta looked exactly like the few others I’d seen. The inner hatch, the one mounted on the ship itself, was closed. I stood in the entry searching for a way inside. I pounded on the metal and it barely made a noise.
Finally, the hatch swung open and a small man with a huge mustache that drooped on either side of his mouth stood there. Instead of speaking, he stepped into the airlock with me and pulled the door shut.
“Hey,” I began to protest.
He turned and faced the hatch again. He raised his wrist-comp and a green light glowed as the door opened. Before I could enter, he pulled it shut again.
There was no trace of humor or evil. I somehow realized he wanted me to test my wrist-comp. I lifted it as he had, and the green light reappeared. The door opened.
“Thank you,” I growled.
He nodded and rushed off too fast for me to follow.
Two doors on either side of a short hallway. The first and second were locked. The third opened into a large room. A storeroom, or cargo bay. It was huge. Every cargo pod on the Dreamer could fit into one area. Cargo pods were strapped and secured to cleats in the floor and walls. A couple of hundred, at a guess.
One door left to try.
Then my brain turned on. I held up my wrist-comp and asked for it to take me to the bridge, where I assumed the officer-of-the-day if there was one, would be located. A few doors, two sets of stairs, and one corridor brought me face to face with the First Officer.
It’s not something easy to forget.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Captain Stone
As she had hoped, her First Officer had done all she had hoped for—and more. Besides the new paint on the outside, he’d paid to have the ship registered to a planet on the rim. For an added fee, he had the ship’s visits, manifests for fictional but untraceable cargo, and pay records for a crew that never existed created.
He had forged receipts for repairs never made, going back fifteen years when the new computers for the ship were installed. The Escolta was a workhorse with a reputation of being honest and reliable, if not inexpensive to use for shipping cargo. It carried larger loads and was not against handing out a transportation bargain to companies in need or to repeat customers.
In return, Captain Stone wanted a commitment from them for future shipments, a deal that was the mark of a good trader. As was her practice, she started the inspection at the bridge, which was located in the bow, and worked her way deck by deck to the stern, then up the other side of the ship. She tried to find some small item the First Officer had missed that referred to the Guardia, one that might raise suspicions from the military or planetary police. She found none.
Next came a private meeting with the massive First Officer, a descendant of a heavy gravity world. He stood well over two meters and was almost as wide. Muscles bulged when he moved. She had seen him lift more than any three humans. She closed and locked the door to his quarters, more as a symbol of wishing privacy than to prevent others from entering.
He sat in a wide chair before a monitor that usually displayed the repair and maintenance activities for a day. Today it was paused in the middle of a soccer match between his favorite team and a hated rival.
The game hadn’t changed much in a few centuries. Some said that was because of the simplicity. Any flat area and a ball were all that was required. Rocks, shirts, or sticks could act as goals. And the rules were simple to understand.
It had exploded in popularity along with the explosion of humans. Most worlds now had leagues. Nearly everyone watched the games, and it was the single unifying force in the human sphere. Only the battles in the coliseum on Roma vied for competition.
She said, “You’ve done your normal masterful job with the refit.”
He scowled and faced her directly. “What are you not telling me?”
“Many things,” she laughed. “To start with, I will no longer need you as my First Officer.”
“Why not?” he growled.
“Because it is time for you to be the master of a ship. I’m going to promote you to be the captain of the Escolta. How does that suit you?”
His expression didn’t change. “If you were a normal human, I’d be ecstatically overjoyed, and elated. I would give you a hug that would crush bones. Since you are who you are, tell me what you have in mind.”
“I want you to captain the ship, consign the cargo, make the trades, and all that. You’re more than qualified.”
“I’ll do all the work while you sit in your cabin and watch me do all of it and send me critique messages?”
She laughed again. “You’ve earned the promotion. More than earned it. And no, I will not be in my cabin because it is yours, right next to the bridge where you should be. If I travel on this ship, I’ll either use a spare cabin or build one to my needs in the empty space.”
“You won’t be on the ship?” For the first time, his tone was shocked.
“Here’s the short story. I’m going to buy another, smaller ship. I have information on where I might find advanced technology to bring back and sell. I’m thinking of taking only three people with me.”
“You’re not going to strip my crew, are you?”
“No. All are new to us. There is a Digger who is incredible with computers and research, a Frog who is as tough and deceptive as they come, and a girl of about sixteen.”
“Kat? I’ve already heard a few hints of her. You should take one of our crew, a proven resource instead of her. She is hardly m
ore than a child.”
“She’s from Prager Four, like me. We’re related. She is all the family I have.” The lies felt like spitting up cabbages. She hadn’t ever told her First Officer any, and now she was telling a big one.
He said, “With my advancement, there are promotions to be made. Will it be my duty to make them?”
“You are the captain, Captain.”
“I see,” he responded thoughtfully. “And understand. Tell me more about what you hope to achieve.”
“There are rumors. I want to follow up on them. And explore. We have a new friend in the form of the admiral of the Bradley Concord. She has provided me with information that I cannot share, not even with you. I will leave the ship in your name in case I fail to return. It will be yours.”
“You cannot do that.”
“I’ve already filed the paperwork here on Heshmat. Your promotion will leave a vacancy in the crew for your old position, and that person will leave another vacancy for you to fill. You will also have a new engineer to train, a boy who wants to learn. There will be an ex-steward that you will find that you can create a position for. Not as a steward. She needs to learn a trade, and probably more than one. Your hands will be full.”
Before he could ask more questions, especially some she couldn’t answer, she stood and unlocked the door, signaling the meeting was over. At the exit, she turned and said, “My things have been removed from the captain’s cabin. The coordinates where we need to travel are in the computer—Captain.”
She slipped out and firmly closed the door with a chuckle.
She’d done the hard part.
The Escolta was ready to depart Heshmat as soon as the crew was aboard. She used her wrist-comp to send a message to the entire crew telling them to return to the ship on time, which was well before departure. She also publicly congratulated the First Officer on his promotion to captain in another message. That would shake things up.
Her wrist-comp showed Kat was already aboard. She needed to hold a conversation about being related to the girl. She went directly to the cabin assigned to Kat.
