She straightened and faced me. “Of course, sir. Is there something in particular you’d like to see?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I find myself afflicted with a dreadful case of blank walls.”
She smiled. “Do you have a style that you prefer?”
I thought about it for several moments, letting my eyes rest on a piece in the foyer. “Delight me,” I said. “Show me pieces that I can look at for stanyers.”
A smile graced her lips. When she turned to look around the gallery, I saw a smudge of paint on her left ear lobe. “Let’s see if there’s anything in here that will delight you,” she said and led the way into a side gallery.
I followed her through the galleries and halls for what felt like moments, but which consumed most of the afternoon. So many of the pieces spoke to me in languages I didn’t know, but none of them spoke the words I needed to hear. Several hours later we came to the end—or, more precisely, the beginning—when she led me back into the foyer.
“I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time. You must have other duties,” I said. “I haven’t purchased a single thing.”
She shook her head and smiled. “My job is to introduce people to the art in the gallery. Spending an afternoon with a new customer who doesn’t buy anything is no hardship.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve given me quite an education and I think I need to process a little before I go any further.”
She held out her hand. “It’s been my pleasure, sir. May I ask your name so I can tell Christine you called?”
“Ishmael.” The voice came from the entry.
I turned to see Christine Maloney standing in the door. The ice in me melted a little more, and I just stood there, drinking her in.
“Christine. I didn’t know you were on the orbital,” the young woman said.
“Just arrived. I wanted to be here for the Arts Gala next week. What brings you here of all places, Ishmael? I can’t believe it.”
“I have a new ship,” I said.
She blinked as if waking. “Oh, of course. The Chernyakova. The shipping news exploded when your name showed up connected to the company that bought her. Phoenix, was it?”
“Yes, Phoenix Freight. I’m surprised you remembered.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Risen from the ashes of Icarus? How could I forget? That was clever.”
I laughed a little laugh and looked at my boots for a moment. “There were a lot of ashes. More than enough.” I shrugged. “Speaking of Icarus. It’s going well?”
She clasped her hands in front of her face and shook her head. “It’s insane. I’ve had to buy three more Higbees just to keep up with the bookings.” She shook her head again. “Stacy will be so angry that she missed you. How long will you be here?”
“We got a can tied on today. We’ll be leaving at 0800 on the seventh.”
“How long have you been out of the yards? I thought that overhaul would take months.”
“It did. We jumped a can from Dree to Jett as a shakedown cruise.”
“Oh, very new.” Her eyes widened. “That’s why. You had to gut that ship.”
“Mostly. Yes.”
“Of course. You need something for the bulkheads in the cabin.” She looked at the young woman. “Dierdre, what have you shown him?” The excitement virtually sparkled off her in waves.
Dierdre laughed. “Everything. He’s been here since just after lunch and we’ve been through the whole place.”
“You didn’t buy anything, did you?” she asked, placing a hand on my arm.
“Sorry. No.”
“Good.”
Dierdre and I shared a look. Apparently neither of us knew what was happening.
“We don’t have much time, if you’re leaving day after tomorrow,” Christine said. “Are you doing anything now?”
“We were just finishing up,” I said. “I’ve no plans beyond going to the chandlery for paint chips. I’d hoped to find a few inspiration pieces to key from but I didn’t see anything that I felt I had to have.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not surprised. So? Give us a tour?”
“A tour?”
“Of the ship. Professional courtesy and all that.”
“Now?”
“If you’re not doing anything.” Christine turned to the young woman. “You need to come see this.”
“What about the gallery?” she asked.
Christine walked to the door and flipped a switch. “Closing early today. This is much more important for your work.” She stood by the door, one hand on the latch. “Well, Captain Wang? Show me your new girl?”
I laughed and it felt good. “I’ve missed you.”
She grinned. “I’ve missed you, too, but come on. We’ve got work to do.” She pulled the door open and nodded her head toward the promenade.
We made good time back to the ship. Christine maintained a running commentary for Dierdre’s benefit, regaling her with tales of refitting and refurnishing the Iris. I expected the memories to hurt more than they did. Hearing Christine Maloney waxing poetic about having her little restaurant in space made me smile.
I keyed the lock open and found Mr. Bentley at the brow. He stood and smiled as I climbed the ramp but his eyeballs practically bugged out of his head when Christine Maloney and Dierdre followed me aboard. “Mr. Bentley, would you log two guests aboard for me, please.”
“Of course, Captain.” He cracked the log and looked up at me.
“Ms. Christine Maloney.” I spelled Maloney for him. “And Dierdre.” I looked to the young woman. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your last name.”
“Oh,” she said, stepping up to the desk. “Darling.” She spelled it for him.
I looked at Christine with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” she asked. “Don’t be that way.”
“Well, ladies, this is one of the crew that sailed with us from Breakall before we had the ship overhauled. Able Spacer Virgil Bentley. Mr. Bentley, Christine Maloney and Dierdre Darling.”
“Ladies.” Bentley stood politely after closing the log. “Always a pleasure to meet the captain’s friends.”
Christine grinned at me and nodded to Bentley. “Charmed, Mr. Bentley.”
“I’ve promised them a brief tour of the ship. Would you give Ms. Fortuner my compliments and let her know we have guests aboard?”
“Aye, aye, Sar.”
I nodded toward the passage. “Well, now that you’ve seen the foyer, let me show you the dining room.”
Christine laughed and Dierdre appeared to be trying to look everywhere at once.
I took them up the passage and past the mess deck. We stopped so Christine could look in. “Dinner mess was over about a stan ago,” I said. “Most of the crew is probably ashore.”
“It’s a lot bigger than the Iris,” Christine said.
“You own a fleet of Barbells and you’ve never been aboard one?”
She shrugged. “I leave that stuff to Jarvis and he makes fun of my little boats.”
“You let him get away with that?”
“My little boats contribute more to the bottom line than his. I remind him of that every quarter.”
I heard a clattering of footsteps followed by a moment of silence before Ms. Fortuner strolled sedately around the corner. “Oh, good evening, Captain. Mr. Bentley informed me we had guests aboard.” She smiled at Christine and Dierdre.
“Christine Maloney, this is Third Mate Kimberly Fortuner. Ms. Fortuner, Christine Maloney.”
Ms. Fortuner’s eyes grew very round for a moment before she blinked them back into their sockets long enough to shake Christine’s hand.
“And may I present her colleague, Dierdre Darling. Dierdre, Third Mate Kimberly Fortuner.”
“You work here?” Dierdre asked, almost shyly.
Ms. Fortuner smiled and shook Dierdre’s hand. “I do, and I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
“Would it be an imposition to peek into the gal
ley?” Christine asked.
“Let’s see if Ms. Sharps is receiving guests,” I said.
Chapter 14
Jett Orbital: 2375, April 5
We found Ms. Sharps staring into her tablet and Ms. Adams with her head in the cleaning locker. Sharps looked up when I stuck my head into the galley. “I have a couple of guests who’d like to see the galley, if that’s satisfactory, Ms. Sharps?”
“Of course, Captain.” She smiled.
Adams closed the locker door and turned to look.
I stepped through into the galley, followed by Christine and Dierdre. “Christine Maloney, this is Spec One Melanie Sharps and mess deck Attendant Rachel Adams. Ms. Sharps, Ms. Adams, this is Christine Maloney and her protégé, Dierdre Darling.”
Sharps’ eyes got round and she stared for a moment before extending a hand. “Ms. Maloney, it’s an honor.”
Christine smiled and shook the offered hand. “Thanks for letting us peek in, Chef.”
After the handshakes and greetings all around, we stood there for a moment while Christine’s gaze swept the immaculate space. “This feels huge,” she said.
Sharps looked around and shrugged. “We need to feed a couple dozen crew and half a dozen officers while underway. Takes a bit of space, sar.”
Christine shook her head, her eyes twinkling. “I’m just a spec one, same as you. My mess deck and galley is just one big compartment, but I only have to feed ten or a dozen at a time.”
Sharps frowned and cocked her head to the side. “Your mess deck? Aren’t you—that is, I thought—”
“Yes, I’m majority stockholder and chairman of the board of DST,” Christine said with a small shrug. “But I’m also the Spec One Chef on the Iris. It’s much more fun than hanging around Diurnia.”
Adams’ eyes bugged out and she wiped her hands on the sides of her shipsuit.
Sharps took a deep breath and straightened her spine a bit. “Well, this is where we do the work. I’ve got three freezers and a half dozen pantries. We’ve the capacity to feed the whole ship’s complement in one sitting, although watchstanders trade in and out. I couldn’t do it without Ms. Adams here and Mr. Franklin. He’s on liberty at the moment.”
Christine smiled and nodded to both Sharps and Adams. “Thank you, both. We won’t take up any more of your time. It’s fun to see another galley after spending so much time in mine. If we ever dock at the same station, you’ve a standing invitation to come visit. Both of you.”
“Thank you,” Sharps said. “Very generous. I’ve often wanted to see one of those love boats up close.” Her eyes grew round and she bit her lip. “Sorry. That slipped out.”
Christine laughed. “They’ve been called worse.” She nodded to me and led Dierdre out of the galley.
“Thank you, Ms. Sharps, Ms. Adams. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“No problem, Skipper,” Ms. Sharps said. “I’m honored. It’s not every day I get to meet and greet the high and mighty.”
I chuckled and followed Christine out. I found them standing in the middle of the mess deck.
“This is where you got the idea for the table on the Iris?” Christine asked, waving a hand at the tables.
“No, that was inspired by the galley on a fast packet named the Bad Penny.”
She nodded. “Well, the cabin? We have work to do.”
I grinned and led her up the ladder to officer country.
When we got to the cabin, Christine winced. “How long has it been like this?”
“Since they put in the paneling,” I said.
“How long ago?”
“Couple of months.” I shrugged. “I could probably find the documentation if it matters.”
“How long were you on the Iris before you painted the cabin?” she asked.
“I don’t remember exactly. That whole thing happened so fast, it’s all rather a blur.”
She nodded and glanced at Dierdre. “What do you see here?”
“Gray,” she said. “Lots of gray.”
“What should be here?” Christine asked. “You spent the afternoon with Captain Wang. What would you do with this space if he asked you to decorate?”
Dierdre frowned and took a deep breath before scanning the room with a slow gaze. “May I?” she asked pointing to the door to his sleeping compartment.
“Of course,” I said.
She took the three steps into the next compartment and stood at the entry for several moments. She turned and came back out. “This space is hard. This room is the captain’s cabin?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s my bunk room and head in there.”
She nodded. “The bed sorta clued me in.” She grinned at him. “You have official functions here?” she pointed to the deck with both index fingers.
“Sometimes,” I said.
“This is his home, Dee,” Christine said. “All this space. He has some meetings here, usually small groups. One or two people. A ship this size has a wardroom?” Christine looked at me.
“Yes. We tend to use that for command meetings.”
“Is that what Frederica deGrut did?” she asked.
I thought about it. “Mostly, yes. It’s handy to the galley and has a seat for every officer and a few extras.”
She nodded and looked back at Dierdre. “We used the mess deck on the Iris for similar functions. This is his home. Think of it as a formal parlor. His bedroom and private space is in there.” She lifted her chin toward the sleeping compartment.
Dierdre nodded and her gaze started jumping around the room from the door to the desk to the small conference table and finally along the walls. “You have any objection to color?” she asked.
“Objection?” I asked.
“Some people don’t like color. They want neutral.” She waved a hand. “This is the opposite of color.”
“Tell me about this space,” Christine said.
Dierdre glanced at me.
“Forget him. Talk to me, Dee.”
“Dark. Oppressive. It’s cold and impersonal. Even the ceiling is gray. The floor is gray. The gray is too dark.” She looked at me again and shrugged. “What are you looking for?”
I looked at Christine who nodded at me. “I’m tired of living in a gray box. When we decorated the Iris, it came alive. I was hoping I’d find some inspiration at the gallery.”
“Did you see anything you liked?” Christine asked.
“Several pieces, but nothing that begged to come home with me.”
She looked at Dierdre. “Where’d he spend the most time?”
“The print gallery, actually,” she said.
“Interesting,” Christine said and looked at me. “Why the prints?”
“They’re big. They’d cover a lot of bulkhead,” I said.
“Several of them are active with slashes of high contrast colors,” she said.
“I was looking for an inspiration piece,” I said. “Like the fiber art we got for the Iris.”
Christine pursed her lips and gazed around the compartment. “Yeah. Not here. You’re not that kind of guy.” She raised an eyebrow and pulled a familiar shape out of a pocket, holding it up to the light. “You were this guy for a long time,” she said, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth.
I pulled out the seabird I’d taken from the Iris. “I’m not sure I’m this guy yet.”
Dierdre’s eyes all but bulged out of her skull. “Are those...?”
Christine nodded. “Yes. Captain Wang here has an extensive collection of whelkies. He gave me this one.”
Dierdre stepped closer to peer at Christine’s dolphin, burnished dark by the years I’d held it in my hand. I could almost feel it in my palm again. “This is exquisite,” Dierdre said. She turned to look at the seabird in my palm. “It’s a shearwater,” she said, surprise in her voice.
“Is it?” I asked. “I know it’s some kind of seabird, but not what kind. How do you know?”
“My mother works for Pirano Fisheries on Umber over in Dunsany
Roads. I used to summer with her there.”
“I visited their orbital once,” I said. “Stanyers ago now.”
“Shearwaters were everywhere. They never seemed to land on the platforms except during nesting season,” Dierdre said. “I used to sit on Mother’s balcony and watch them for days. They’d hardly seem to move but sailed along on the prevailing winds.” Her finger sketched the shapes over the whelkie without actually touching it. “They have these long narrow wings and a tapered tail. It’s unmistakable.”
“There’s your theme, Ishmael,” Christine said, nodding at the whelkie in my hand.
“I didn’t see anything at the gallery that fits that theme,” I said. “Did I?”
“Depends on how you visualize the theme,” Christine said and looked at Dierdre. “Spin me a story about this room.”
Dierdre nodded and began a slow spin. “Leave the floor this dark gray for now. Ceiling needs to be lighter. Maybe alice blue or azure.”
“Not sky?” Christine asked.
Dierdre shook her head. “The walls asparagus green except that short wall by the door. Make that something that pops, like a teal.”
“Too bright,” Christine said.
Dierdre stopped and squinted her eyes at the bulkhead in question. “Drop the saturation a few degrees. I want deep water there as accent.”
“Style?” Christine asked.
Dierdre shook her head. “We don’t have anything in the gallery at the moment.” She considered the long bulkhead beside the desk. “We could do something clever with a mural. Take the outline of a shearwater and lay it on in a smoke white along there.” She waved her hands toward the bulkhead as if stroking her vision onto the bulkhead by force of will.
“What about in there?” I asked, pointing at the sleeping compartment.
“Carry the color scheme in. Ceiling, main green. Add a deeper blue-green for the wall by the bathroom. If we do a mural on this wall, we could replicate the shape in a smaller scale in there.”
Christine’s gaze swept the room again and she nodded slowly. “Yes. Neutral enough that almost anything would go on it.”
“Reds and browns would pop. Lighter greens and blues would make it monochromatic,” Dierdre said. “I think it would work.”
To Fire Called (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 2) Page 9
