To Fire Called (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 2)

by Nathan Lowell

“You looking for something, Captain?” Chief Stevens’s voice barely reached my ears over the sound of the blowers.

  I looked at her and shrugged. “Yeah. Aren’t we all?”

  She snorted a laugh. “Don’t start getting all existential on me. I’m old enough to be your great-grandmother. That’s a fool’s question. You know the answer and you’re no fool.”

  “I’m wondering what Alys Giggone did on the Lois,” I said.

  “In what way?”

  “That was a big crew. We all knew her, as much as any crew can know an officer.”

  The chief nodded. “Do you think you really knew her? Or just the image that she wanted to project?”

  I looked down at the skid panels on the deck and thought about it, running the toe of my boot over the nubs. “I don’t know.”

  “Something to think about,” the chief said. “One memory that comes back to you about her?”

  “Meeting her in civvies at a flea market one time.”

  “What makes that stand out?”

  “She was a captain out of uniform as much as when she was in one.”

  She clapped me on the back of the shoulder with a mischievous smile. “So are you, Ishmael. Give yourself a chance to heal, but have a little faith in yourself. I’ve got reports to do. You know where to find me if you need anything.” She headed off toward the ladder, leaving me there looking at the massive machines that let us sail between stars.

  Chapter 17

  Jett System: 2375, April 28

  We called the crew to navigation stations for the jump just after lunch mess. I made Mr. Reed go over the jump calculations with me twice. The system parameters all checked out and I found no good reason to postpone the jump. My inner astrogator said we were jumping too close, but Al and Mr. Reed convinced me—after much math wrangling and many simulation runs—that what we were doing was perfectly safe, if not exactly within the CPJCT orthodoxy.

  Chief Stevens cast the final straw on the pile when she pointed out that none of the Barbells I’d ever sailed had had the Burleson drives needed to pull it off. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, your standard three-BU limit gets you where you need to be,” she said over coffee in the cabin one night. “The normal production Barbells do what they need to do in the most economical package. We aren’t sailing a standard Barbell. We have the legs—and the need for them—to do long-haul freight in ways that a production Barbell can’t. We’re just using the legs this ship has to carve some time off the outbound leg. We’ll do the same thing on the other end.”

  I must not have looked convinced.

  She winked at me. “Trust me to know how the drives work.”

  So we went to navigation stations in the early afternoon and prepared to jump a fully loaded Barbell into what I hoped was empty space, half a Burleson Unit into the Deep Dark.

  “Captain?” Al said. “Shall we go somewhere else?”

  I glanced at her and then back over my shoulder at the system astern. “Let’s.” I faced forward again and settled down in my chair.“Mr. Reed, the captain would like to go to somewhere else this afternoon. What say you?” Al asked.

  “Course plotted and locked, Ms. Ross. Ship dead on course.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Reed. Systems, are we ready to jump?” Al asked.

  “Systems green for jump once, Ms. Ross,” Ms. Fortuner said from her console.

  “Astrogation, are we ready to jump?”

  “Astrogation is green for jump twice, Ms. Ross.”

  “Chief?”

  “Engineering reports green for jump, Ms. Ross. Ship is green for jump thrice.”

  “Thank you, Chief. The ship is green for go thrice, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Ross. Ready about, Mr. Reed. Hard a-lee.”

  Mr. Reed punched the button and we jumped. “Jump complete,” he said. “Position and vector confirmed. Logged at 2375, April 28 at 1427.” He flipped a couple of windows aside. “We’re a little more than half a BU away from Jett. We are within one percent of target position and on course for main jump.”

  “Chief?” Al asked. “Burleson status.”

  “Burlesons charged and ready for main jump.”

  “We are ready for main jump, Captain. At your command,” Al said.

  “Let’s do it again, Mr. Reed. Ready about—hard a-lee.”

  When Reed punched the button, the star pattern shifted noticeably but no system primary showed ahead. The dim, brown dwarf star at the heart of the system didn’t shine brightly enough to show up to the naked eye.

  “Position, Mr. Reed?” Al asked.

  “Validation. Mark’s Star. We are on course and within two percent of target position. Logged at 2375, April 28 at 1431.”

  “Chief?” Al asked.

  “We’ve enough for one more,” she said.

  “Mr. Reed, do you have the next jump?” Al asked.

  “Jump plotted and locked. Ready for jump.”

  “At your command, Captain,” Al said.

  “Ready about, Mr. Reed. Hard a-lee.”

  Reed punched the button again and the shift from darkness to brilliance almost looked like somebody had flipped a light switch in the bridge. A red giant star gleamed against the backdrop of the Deep Dark a few degrees off the port bow. Glowing swaths of red and green gauze arched across the sky, blocking the light from distant stars and bathing the bridge in a soft glow. It wasn’t bright enough to read by, but after days in the near-darkness of the outer Jett system, it glowed on every face on the bridge.

  “Position validation,” Reed said. “The Cobwebs. We are plus three percent on target and a few degrees off final course to Mel’s Place. Logged at 2375, April 28 at 1433.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Reed.” Al looked at the chief. “Chief Stevens?”

  “Capacitors charging. Full in two stans.”

  “Mr. Reed, if you’d feed course corrections to helm?”

  “Aye, aye. Course corrections to helm.” He selected some data on his screen and clicked it. “Course corrections to helm.”

  “Helm?” Al asked.

  “Course plot locked. Ship responding to helm,” Ms. Torkelson said.

  “Estimated time to position for next jump, Mr. Reed?” Al asked.

  “Three stans, Ms. Ross. Maybe a little less if the winds hold.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Reed. Captain, the ship has completed planned jumps.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Ross. Secure from navigation stations. Pass the word that we’ll make our final jump into Mel’s Place after the dinner mess,” I said.

  Al made the announcements and I stood up from my chair. “Thank you, everyone. Good work.”

  I left the bridge, dropping down to officer country.

  Able Spacer Bentley stepped back from the foot of the ladder to make way. “Afternoon, Skipper,” he said. “Clear sailing up there?”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Bentley. It’s gorgeous.” I ducked into the cabin and wished—not for the first time—that the Barbell’s cabin came with armorglass ports. The Cobwebs were spectacular. I had a feeling I’d be spending much of the afternoon inspecting the bridge, just so I could look out.

  I heard three raps on the door.

  “Come.”

  Al stuck her head in. “Gotta minute, Skipper?”

  I waved a hand at a visitors’ chair and plunked down on my side of the desk.

  Al came in and latched the door behind her before sitting. “How you doin’, Skipper?”

  I felt my eyebrows rising. “All right, I think. Why?”

  She shrugged. “You’ve been busy the last couple of weeks. We really haven’t had a chance to touch base.” She turned to look at the shearwater on the wall. “You and the chief argued pretty hard about the short jump.”

  “I’m having to adjust a lot of my thinking this trip,” I said.

  “Have you talked to Pip lately?”

  “Other than meals in the wardroom?” I shook my head. “Why?”

  “Wondered if you had any better idea about wh
at he’s really doing out here.”

  “It’s something with the astrogation database.”

  Al looked back at me, her brow furrowed. “How does that work?”

  “When we broke in back at Dree, he only wanted to know if this ship had Toe-Hold stations in the database. We identified Odin’s Outpost and a couple of places he recognized over in Dunsany Roads. After that, he was happy to give the ship back to the caretakers.”

  “You broke in?” Her brow wrinkled in the other direction as her eyes got wide.

  “Well, mostly we conned our way aboard by pretending to be the relief crew and arriving early.”

  Al sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers in front of her mouth.

  “What?” I asked.

  “He talked you into it?”

  “Of course. I’d already been aboard. I knew what the ship was like inside.”

  “He convinced you to do it so he’d be able to judge for himself?” One eye brow arched. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “He thinks he did, yeah.”

  “He thinks he did what?”

  “He thinks he convinced me to sneak aboard so he could look for himself.”

  “He didn’t?”

  “Not so much. I went along with him, sure. Mostly I was interested in what he was looking for. Or at. He really didn’t need to see the condition of the ship to put his deal together to buy it.”

  “Have you pinned him down?”

  “You ever try to rivet gelatin?”

  She snorted.

  “I’ve some suspicions but mostly I don’t know enough about Toe-Hold space to make any real guesses.”

  “Care to share?”

  “There’s someplace he’s looking for. He thinks this ship might have been there.”

  She leaned forward at that, resting her elbows on her knees. “Any idea what?”

  I shook my head. “It’s a place. Maybe a thing at a place, but the place is the key.”

  “Why?”

  “Astrogation data. He was blowing smoke about not having access to the Toe-Hold astrogation data and needing to see if this ship had the charts.”

  She frowned. “You bought that?”

  “Six months ago I didn’t even know Toe-Hold was a real place.”

  “More like real places.” She glanced down and then back up at me. “You know, those charts are really easy to come by, right?”

  “I do now. I didn’t then.”

  “So why is he looking for a place?”

  “Hunch. He wasn’t looking for Toe-Hold charts. If I had to guess, he’s already got a full set on a thumb drive in his grav trunk.”

  She raised that eyebrow again.

  “Think about it. He’s been running his own fast packet around the Western Annex for almost two decades. Jumping through the Deep Dark is practically his family’s business model. If anybody knows his way around Toe-Hold space, I’d bet on Thomas Carstairs.”

  “Pip’s father?”

  “Yeah. The whole family, probably. They all run fast packets. I never got the impression from Pip, but just considering the scope of his operation? They’re doing well. We turned a profit just on the run from Port Newmar back through Diurnia to Breakall. He wasn’t even trying and he scored something like five kilos of diamonds.”

  “That’s not that many industrial diamonds,” Al said. “You know they make them now, right?” She gave me a crooked grin.

  “Jewel grade.”

  Her eyes narrowed a bit as she looked across the desk. “Five kilos of jewel-grade diamonds?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “You believed him?”

  “Doesn’t matter. It was a box that looked like it could hold five kilos of jewel-grade diamonds, and he collected a payment from a broker on Breakall for the delivery. Coulda been data. Coulda been drugs, for all I know.”

  Al shook her head and ran a hand over her scalp. “Why this ship?” She stared down at the deck between her boots.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  “If he already has the charts, any ship would do,” Al said.

  “Not quite.”

  Her head came up like it was on a spring. “Not quite?”

  “What if it’s not a regular Toe-Hold?”

  Her eyes got very large and round. “You think he’s looking for a secret base or something?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think he needed Toe-Hold charts. I don’t think he was looking for just any ship. I think he was looking to see if this ship was the one he needed. Something in the astrogation database convinced him.”

  She chuckled and looked back at the deck. “Will you ask him about it?”

  “Wouldn’t do any good. He’d just tell us a story.”

  Her head bobbed up and down a couple of times. “Does it bother you?”

  “Which part?”

  “That you don’t know where he’s taking you.”

  “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t know what it meant even if I did know where we were going.”

  She looked up again. “What it meant?”

  “I know where we’re going. In a few stans we’re jumping into a system called Mel’s Place.”

  “Yeah. And?”

  “And what’s Mel’s Place? I don’t expect there to be an orbital. I’m told there’s a system primary and some belts. There’s a station, but it’s not CPJCT. What is it?”

  “Well.” Al sighed. “It’s a private station. Mel Colby established it back in the day. Must be close to two centuries ago, now. Last I heard her great-grandson was running the place.”

  I felt a laugh bubbling up. “That’s what I mean. How does that even work?”

  Al looked at me again. “You’ll see when you get there.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “And until I get there, being told won’t matter much.”

  She pursed her lips and her head bobbed again. “So having Pip tell you what he’s looking for wouldn’t make much difference to you.”

  “Yeah. In the first place, he’d probably spin some yarn that’s only half the story. In the second, it’s likely to be incomprehensible even if he told me the whole truth. I’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “What if it’s dangerous?”

  “What he’s looking for?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “We’re not exactly in a battleship here.”

  “That’s my point,” she said.

  “The ship has been there before. It survived then.”

  She frowned. “How do you figure that?”

  I held up a finger. “He’s looking for someplace in Toe-Hold space.” I held up a second finger. “It’s not on the normal charts.” I held up a third finger. “He wanted this particular ship.” I held up a fourth finger. “The only way this ship would have the astrogation data necessary to get there is if it had already been there at least once.”

  “You’re thinking it recorded the location when it jumped to it?”

  I shrugged. “Makes sense.”

  “What if it’s not actually real? Just a data point that somebody loaded to gyp fortune hunters.”

  “It could be that, too.”

  A slow smile crept across her face. “And you’re just going to wait and see.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  Al sat back in her seat, letting her hands drop into her lap. “You’re not chasing Patterson?”

  I shrugged. “I’m guessing that Patterson will find me.”

  She laughed. “Because Pip.”

  “Because Pip.”

  “What’ll you do when you find him?”

  “When he finds me?” I asked.

  “Or that,” she said.

  “Pip seems to think I want revenge.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” I flattened my palms against the desk and stared at the smooth surface between my fingers. “He got away with murder. I’d like to see him brought to justice.”

  “You know that’s not l
ikely, right?” Al asked.

  I nodded without looking up.

  “Doesn’t that make you angry?”

  “I don’t think I’m there yet.” I looked up at her. “I’m mostly numb. At least when it comes to that.” I paused for a moment and changed the subject. “Artwork?”

  A wash of color slid up the sides of her neck. “What about it?”

  “I didn’t know you were an artist. What media?”

  “Paint some. Draw a lot. Ink doesn’t need much mass and pens are cheap. Paper is always a challenge.”

  “Is that what you submit to the Arts Gala in Jett?”

  “I’ve submitted paintings. A few sketches and some pen and ink.” She picked at the side of her left thumb with the fingers of her right hand. “It’s relaxing.”

  “Can I see some of your work?”

  She shrugged. “Haven’t got anything on me. Left it in storage at Breakall.” She glanced up at me. “Wasn’t sure we’d make it to Dree and haven’t had a chance to get it.”

  “How long were you ashore in Breakall before we came along?”

  “Two months.” She shrugged and shook her head. “I wasn’t really looking. I coulda bought passage to Diurnia. If it came to that.”

  “You just decided to hang out?”

  She gave me a weak smile. “I needed a break. Never really bonded with the last crew. Too many skippers who wanted something I’m not.” She shrugged again. “I gave up my berth and went ashore at Breakall. Don’t know why there. Just felt right.”

  Somebody tapped on the door.

  “Come.”

  Chief Stevens stuck her head in. “Am I interrupting?”

  I shook my head and Al stood up. “I’m just leaving,” she said.

  The chief came in and held the door for Al, who closed it on her way out.

  “Are we all right?” the chief asked.

  “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  She came in and lowered herself to the chair. “You seem a bit subdued.”

  “I am. I’m off balance and still trying to find my place in the universe.” I grinned at her. “More figuratively than literally in this case, but Toe-Hold space hasn’t added much to my stability.”

  “You know I’d never advise you to jump if there was any hint of danger, right?”

  “I know. It just runs counter to everything I know or thought I knew.”

  She nodded. “Being aboard this ship can’t be helping.”