South Coast (Shaman's Tales From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1)

by Nathan Lowell

“Both, Mr. P. I’d recommend the wheat. Jace’s latest batch is very good.”

  “Wheat it is, then, Mary, and please, call me Jimmy.”

  “Comin’ right up and I thank ya, Alan, but I’ll just stick to tea for now. It’ll be a long afternoon and evening, I’m thinkin’.”

  “Add it to the tab, and treat yourself tonight when you finally can enjoy it,” Alan said with a grin.

  She grinned back, and Jimmy found himself liking this no-nonsense woman. She pulled the two beers and brought them down the bar. Placing them carefully, she waited for them to take their first appreciative sips before speaking. “So, how can I help you, Jimmy?”

  “I want to know about crabbing. You seem to be the expert on the matter on this part of the South Coast, so I thought I’d come to the source.”

  “Flattery can only help your cause. Don’t stop now. What do you wanna know? Catching them isn’t any great difficulty or secret.”

  “We’re exploring potential new products. We want to try to diversify the landings so we’re not just reliant on one kind of fishery for our quota.”

  She lifted a thick china mug from the bar and took a couple of sips before speaking. “Okay, there’s three kinds of crabs here...”

  A short stan, and another long beer, later, Mary ran out of things to tell them about crabs. Jimmy felt like he’d just had the graduate degree program in crab fishery. She’d covered the life cycle, relative population densities, and offered advice on where to take each kind.

  “I use a flat crab net here,” she said. “Just a scrap of net in a ring of metal, a small float to keep the lines clear, but for an untended pot, you’ll want to have a box. Easy to make. The directions are on the PlanetNet actually.”

  “Okay,” Jimmy said. “I need somebody to work on this full time. Somebody who can work out the details for how to put together a boat and make the traps and try it out for a bit, see how it works. You interested?”

  Mary laughed and shook her head. “I’ve got a job right here, Jimmy. It doesn’t leave a lotta time, and I kinda like workin’ with my Jace. We’re a team.”

  “I can appreciate that. You know anybody here that would be interested?”

  Mary squinted her eyes in thought for a few moments. “Well, the one person here who’s shown any interest in crabbing lately is Otto Krugg. Last fall, we spent a good amount of time playing in the shallows and catching crabs. He even knit himself a net. Keeps up, too. I’ve seen him catching crabs off the pier this spring.”

  “Would he do it?” Jimmy asked.

  Alan leaned in. “Otto’s only fourteen. Might wanna go with somebody a little older and knows about boats.”

  Jimmy got sidetracked, catching on the name. “Krugg? Any relation to the shaman got stung by the box fish?”

  “Otto’s his son.”

  “How’s he doing?” Jimmy asked.

  “He’s good. Made a full recovery as near as we can tell. That was about the time we started the new even-odd schedule, so he didn’t go back out. He’s been staying close to home, walking the beaches and carving a lot of whelkies.”

  “Nothin’ like a little near death experience to make you appreciate not dyin’,” Mary said. “He and Otto are quite a pair these days. Seldom see one without the other.”

  Alan said, “Otto’s been learning the shaman business. He’s a nice kid. He’ll make a good shaman.”

  Mary snorted. “I wouldn’t be too sure who’s teachin’ who with that pair. Richard, bless his heart, got the title from his dad, but there was times, I wondered if that bar stool didn’t have more gift.”

  Alan chuckled. “Well, there is that.”

  “Otto’s the real deal,” Mary said. “Personally, I think his father’s the one doin’ the learning. Since he got out of the pod, he’s been a lot more shamanly, if you know what I mean.”

  Jimmy chewed on that for a bit and considered going for a third pint.

  “Yanno who I’d ask?” Mary said at last.

  Alan said, “Rachel.”

  She nodded. “That’s one shrewd woman, Rachel Krugg. She grew up here, used to be a Pye. Got her mate’s ticket just before she got married. Richard didn’t hold with having her go to sea, so she moved a terminal into the cottage and been doing market analysis for Alan here ever since.”

  “She’s damn good, too,” Alan said. “She finds stuff, I have no idea where. Made us some good money over the stanyers. When we had the big push last fall, she went on as mate, but she hasn’t gone back out since the accident. She stays close to home, but I get the feeling it’s more to keep an eye on Richard.”

  “I thought you said he was okay,” Jimmy said.

  Mary and Alan traded a glance. “Well, he is, but he’s still doing physical therapy and goes to the clinic for evaluation every week. He’s...different now,” Alan said.

  Jimmy let that digest and decided he’d have a third beer after clearing away the first two. By the time he got back from the head, the first of the afternoon’s boats had come in. Mary’s attention was taken up by waiting on the patrons and Jace came out of the back to give a hand as the pub filled up with fishermen. Jimmy lingered over his beer, hunched down and not hiding exactly, but not making a production of showing his face.

  Alan leaned in to speak quietly. “Rachel’d be good. Knows her way around the water. Fished here since she was a girl. Got good roots and her mother went up to the orbital to be a cargo broker when her ole man died.”

  Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Think that’s where the good deals are coming from?”

  Alan shrugged and took another pull from his beer. “Dunno, but if you’re looking for somebody to develop a market, Rachel’s got the connections that go from waterfront to cargo buyer.”

  “I was thinkin’ the same thing.” Jimmy drained his glass, and slid it across the bar. “Thanks, Mary,” he said above the growing hubbub, and slipped off the stool. “Let’s go talk to Rachel.”

  As Alan slipped from his stool, Mary brought the tab. Jimmy grabbed it, threw a hundred cred tip on it, and thumbed it.

  Mary smiled. “Very generous, Jimmy. Thanks.”

  He waved it off. “I’m on an expense account and I know a guy in the accounting office. He’ll approve it.”

  She laughed. “Well, come back any time. And bring your friend from accounting.”

  Jimmy was still chuckling as he stepped out into the late afternoon sun with Alan behind him.

  Callum’s Cove was a true village. Jimmy admired the stone work and narrow streets. While Aram’s Inlet was no bustling metropolis, like Port St. Cloud or even Fairfax, it was still bigger than Callum’s Cove. Having the Pirano headquarters there helped, as did the yard and processing plants. By comparison Callum’s Cove was a sleepy backwater. The streets were well kept and free from windblown litter. The window boxes were just showing early shoots, and small flower gardens scattered here and there were showing off drifts of daffodils and hyacinths, a bit past prime, but still pretty.

  “I see why you like it here, Alan.” Jimmy said.

  Alan smiled. “Yeah. It gets kinda small sometimes, but it’s home. The Kruggs live out on the edge of the village at the base of the headland.” Alan nodded in that direction.

  “Is it okay to just drop in?” Jimmy asked.

  Alan shrugged. “Lemme check.” He pulled out his peeda and sent a message to Rachel through the office. Jimmy stood and basked in the warming sun, and watched the fleet dribble into port. The harbor looked full already, but Jimmy remembered that only half the fleet went out.

  “She’s putting the kettle on,” Alan said.

  “What’d you tell her?”

  “Just that I wanted to come out to visit her about a business matter and was bringing a colleague.”.

  “You shoulda said it was me.” Jimmy’s voice held a note of reproof.

  Alan grinned. “Yeah. She’s gonna kill me.”

  “That amuses you?” Jimmy asked with a chuckle as they headed down the lane.


  “Oh, she’ll get even. It’s a small town, Jimmy. This is what we do for entertainment.”

  Jimmy laughed and enjoyed the stroll out to the shaman’s cottage.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Callum’s Cove

  April 10, 2305

  Rachel was curious. In the first place, Alan never came to her to talk business. Sure, technically he was her boss, but they communicated on the ’Net, and once a month or so, they’d get together in the office. In the second place, a colleague? Rachel had no idea who he could be bringing, but she put the kettle on and assembled a tray of cookies. Richard and Otto were out on Sandy Long again. She glanced at the chrono and realized she needed to start dinner soon, too. She looked out the window and didn’t see Alan coming so she washed some potatoes, and put them in the oven to bake. She added a couple extra, just in case. There was plenty of fish.

  The kettle came to a boil and she put up a pot of tea to steep. A couple of ticks later, she heard voices outside the door and opened it to welcome her guests.

  “Jimmy Pirano,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Hello. Rachel Krugg, I presume?”

  Her eyes shot daggers at Alan, but she smiled and welcomed them into the cozy cottage. As Jimmy entered, he thought he heard her say, “I’ll get you for this,” but he pretended not to notice.

  Alan, for his part, had a huge grin.

  “We can go into the living room, but you might find the kitchen more comfortable.”

  Alan said, “Kitchen is good, Rachel. We just came to talk. Jimmy, here, has a problem and is looking for some help.”

  She brought the tea things to the table, and they settled into the kitchen chairs. When the preliminaries were over, Rachel asked, “So?”

  “When we get over this quota crisis,” Jimmy said, “I want to diversify our fisheries.”

  She nodded for him to go on.

  “We’ve focused all our efforts on the draggers out on the banks and grounds when there’s lots of fish stock here that we could be developing as marketable product. It’s not going to happen soon. If we don’t make quota, it may not happen ever.”

  “I’ve been watching the landings,” she said. “You’ve got a little slippage.”

  Jimmy grimaced. “Yeah, we need to develop something short term that can give us another fifty megatons by the end of the summer, but that’s not why I’m here.” He paused to gauge her response.

  She held her teacup in front of her face, the fingertips of both hands just cradling the cup so the warm mists wreathed her nose. “You’ve got my attention, Mr. Pirano.”

  “Jimmy,” he said.

  “Jimmy.”

  “One of the fisheries we want to develop is crab.”

  “Good choice,” she said with a small nod. “Premium product and not readily available in this end of the sector. How do I fit into your crabby planning?”

  “We need to know if it’s viable, even possible. We need to develop the equipment, either build it or buy it, whatever we need to do. But short term, I need somebody to start fishing for crab and see what that would look like.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to start fishing for crab.”

  “I don’t know anything about crabs.”

  “You probably know more than I do. Nobody on the South Coast knows whether this will work or not. We came here to talk with Mary Murray. She’s the closest thing we have to a local crab expert.”

  “Oh, yes, Mary’s something with seafood. Otto’s learned a lot from her while Richard and I were out fishing.”

  “How is your husband, by the way?”

  “Making a full recovery. It was scary there for a time, but nothing like nearly losing somebody to make you really appreciate them, eh?”

  “Believe me when I say, I was so relieved to hear he’d survived.”

  Alan said, “We’ve been talking to Mary all afternoon. Mary has forgotten more about crabs than all of us put together ever knew. She knows what we want to do, but can’t take it on herself because of the pub. We asked who she’d recommend and she said you.”

  “Really?”

  Alan ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “You’re a fisherman. You know the local waters. You’re known here in the village. You’re a great market analyst, so you’ll be able to do something with the catch.”

  “My mother’s a cargo broker, you mean.”

  “That, too,” he said with an unabashed grin.

  She looked back at Jimmy. “I don’t know what I need. I know the basics of how to catch a crab or two, but catching tons of crabs?” She shook her head.

  “Nobody on the planet does, unless it’s Mary Murry,” Jimmy said. “That’s why we want somebody here to do it. With Mary right here as a resource, it’s going to be much easier to figure out how this needs to work. Besides, Mary suggested you.”

  “Because of Richard?” she asked.

  Alan chuckled. “Mostly because of Otto. Mary thought he was a pretty talented crabber.”

  “But he’s only fourteen.”

  Alan nodded “But he’d make a great deckhand.”

  She grinned. “He’d like that. If I can get him away from Richard.”

  “Our vision for this,” Jimmy said, “is that we’re looking at some kind of local fishery. Something you can do in an afternoon maybe. We don’t really know the scale of it. That’s what we’d need you to determine. Figure out what you want to try out, tell Alan, he’ll get it, you try it, and we see what we get. At the end of the season, we’ll know a lot more. If it works out, we’ll have all winter to supply other villages along the South Coast. If not, well, we’ll have learned something and it’s a valuable lesson.”

  “We can give you some time to think about it,” Alan said.

  “Yes,” Rachel said.

  “How much time would you like?” Jimmy asked.

  “No, I mean, yes, I’ll do it. I don’t need to think about it.”

  Jimmy said, “I didn’t mean to rush you into it.”

  “You didn’t. It makes perfect sense. It sounds like fun. It needs to be here so Mary can help, and I kinda like the idea of fiddling around in the bay so I can work with Otto, and maybe even Richard.”

  “Excellent,” Jimmy said and started to rise.

  “I have some stipulations,” Rachel said.

  Jimmy sat back down. “Go ahead.”

  “I need a budget to include development expenses, salary and benefits for three people at the skipper, mate, and crew levels. I probably won’t need all three but if I do, I want to be able to call it.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “I’m going to need a boat. When I figure out what kind, I expect it to be delivered here. I’m not going to go get it.”

  Jimmy grinned. “Done. Anything else?”

  Rachel thought for a minute. “No. At the end of the season, we’ll talk again. This is a one season contract, and expires on October 31 of this year. At that point we can renegotiate for the coming year based on what we learn between now and then.”

  “Deal.” Jimmy stood, spit in his hand, and held it out. “Alan, you’re the witness. Give her whatever she wants.”

  Rachel stood, spit in her own hand, and shook Jimmy’s. “I’ll get this written up and send it to your office so we can keep the lawyers happy. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

  He glanced at his chrono. “No, I need to get back to the Inlet tonight. If I leave now, I can get in before it gets too late. I still have things to do there.”

  They all headed for the door. Rachel opened it for them and the two men took their polite departures. “I’m still gonna get you,” she said to Alan as he slipped out the door.

  She heard him chuckling as she closed the door again. Glancing at the chrono herself, she figured she’d have time to do a little crabbing research before dinner. Their visit had been amazingly brief.

  As they moved away from the house, Alan and Jimmy heard the rattling of Otto’s staff
before he stepped around the corner of the house. His father, wearing a deep red poncho with elaborate embroidery, was right behind him.

  Alan’s eyes widened when he saw Richard. This was not the same man that Alan had known and dealt with for decades. It was if he were more solid, more there. It wasn’t just the poncho. Alan recognized it as Benjamin’s. It was partly the poncho, but partly something in his eyes. They smiled, and Richard’s eyes had never in his memory smiled.

  “Hello, Alan,” Richard said. “Hello, Mr. Pirano. We’ve never met, but I’m Richard Krugg, the shaman here.” He held out his hand.

  Jimmy took it and smiled. “Call me Jimmy, please. I’m glad to see you up and about.”

  “Instead of in a box? No happier than I am.” Richard said with an easy grin. “Have you met my son, Otto?”

  Otto stepped forward, his walking stick rattling as he moved, and clattering gently even when he wasn’t because of the breezes. “Pleased to meet you, sir. I have something for you.”

  Alan was still looking at Richard so he saw the surprise and pride register on his face. He turned in time to see Jimmy accept a whelkie from Otto’s hand. It was a seabird of some kind, but he didn’t get a good look at it. Jimmy’s hands hid it from view.

  “Thank you,” Jimmy said. “I’ll treasure it.”

  Otto cocked his head a bit to one side. “You need it. You’re welcome.”

  Richard said, “Otto? We should probably let them get back to the village. I’m sure they have more business to discuss.”

  “Of course, Father” Otto said, and stepped back–his staff making a soft, tinkling sound.

  “Good night, Richard, Otto,” Alan said.

  “Nice to meet you both,” Jimmy said, and they headed on down the lane toward the village while Richard and Otto headed into the kitchen.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Aram’s Inlet

  April 12, 2305

  Tony looked down into the boat moored alongside the pier, his mouth twisted into a skeptical grimace. It was one of Jake’s ten meter open utility boats and had a motor mount, a pilot’s station, and lots of open deck space. The two people working in the boat–Tony couldn’t help but think of them as kids–were settling paired crates of gear along the stern and stacks of empty fish boxes in the bow. In one of the crates of each pair was a slimy mess consisting of smelly bits of fish and meters of rope, the rope predominating which made the redolent chunks of fish even that much more disgusting by comparison. The other crate had a pair of buoys and anchors.