Captain's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper)

by Nathan Lowell

  “I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Pinkus.”

  “Thank you, sar. You’re an officer and a gentleman, sar.”

  I glanced down at my uniform. “Yes. Well. Carry on, Mr. Pinkus.”

  I found Vonda on the bridge as Pinkus had said. She smiled at me and then looked at the chrono. “You’re up early.”

  “Yeah, I had a few things on my mind.”

  She snorted. “I dare say. Congrats on making captain, Ishmael. It’s been a pleasure serving with you.”

  “You sound like you think I’m leaving.”

  She looked startled. “Aren’t you? I thought you were taking the Agamemnon.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “It’s all over the ship! You even packed up your stateroom.”

  “Who said that?”

  “Oh, well.” She looked a little sheepish. “I looked in last night.”

  “Fire watch?”

  “No, I was measuring it for drapes.”

  “Drapes?”

  “Sorry, private joke. I was looking to see how much different it was than mine. Getting a feel for it before...um...”

  “Before you move in?”

  She shrugged. “Well. Yeah.”

  “And your assessment?”

  “It’s not as big as I thought it would be.”

  “You sound surprised. Surely, you’ve seen the inside of my stateroom before.”

  “Well yeah, of course, but never looking at it like I’m gonna live in it. Besides your stuff has always been there.”

  “Good point.” I changed the subject. “So, have you met the new captain?”

  “Oh, yeah. He was on the mess deck at breakfast. We had a good gab. He’s not quite what I expected.”

  “Yeah, me either.” I paused before continuing. “Do you think I should take it?”

  “The Agamemnon? Why wouldn’t you?”

  “Because it’s the Agamemnon.”

  “Ishmael? If it were any other ship? Any other tractor for that matter, would you be asking this?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you asking it about the Agamemnon? Because of its reputation on the docks?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

  She snorted. “You fixed up Billy. Took her from the Stinker to Sweet William and you were barely out of Academy. You’re gonna have trouble with three punks and a first bitch? I don’t think so.”

  “Would you take it?”

  “Man, I’d have already taken it. I’d be over there right now rousting them out, kicking butt, taking names, and calling the cat rude names.”

  “They have a cat?”

  She looked at me with a certain degree of exasperation before she realized I was kidding her.

  I asked her the question I needed answered.“You gonna be able to work with him?”

  She knew who I meant and paused a moment before answering. “I think so. He’s not Fredi and I’m kinda spoiled, but he’s got a good sense of humor and he’s been around the dock enough times to know where the lock handles are.”

  I held out my hand. “Safe voyage, Vonda. It’s been an honor.”

  She smiled at me, and took the hand. “Safe voyage … Captain.”

  “Well, not captain yet. But thanks.”

  I headed down over the ladder but not before I saw her check the chrono again.

  “What time did you have, Vonda?”

  “What time?”

  “Yeah. What time?”

  “0600. I know you’re an early riser.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  She shrugged. “Pinkus got the prime slot. That’s the time I’d have picked.”

  I glanced at the chrono. “Who has 7:15?”

  She smirked. “Captain Delman.”

  I laughed all the way to the mess deck. I didn’t really need a cup of coffee but it was good to see the crew, such as it was, on an early morning after the first night in port. I lingered over the mug before slotting it into the rack for cleaning.

  At precisely 0730, I knocked on the captain’s door. From inside I heard a baritone voice say, “Damn.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Diurnia Orbital:

  2372-January-09

  When I finished with Captain Delman, I flashed a formal acceptance message to DST’s main office on the orbital. I keyed my stateroom door one last time, made a final sweep through to make sure I hadn’t left anything embarrassing under the bunk or in the head. Satisfied that I’d grabbed it all, I locked the grav trunk and fired up the lifters. It moved easily, but it massed a lot. I’d learned over the stanyers to tug gently, move carefully, and keep my toes out from under it in case I needed to cut the grav to keep from squashing myself or an innocent bystander.

  With some level of aplomb I managed to back it out of the stateroom and into the passageway without adding any noticeable additional defects to the paint job on the door frame. Vonda would probably paint it anyway. It wasn’t even 0800 and nobody was about, but that was just as well. When I got to the brow, I found the captain waiting there with Vonda and Pinkus. The captain and Vonda took care of a small but meaningful administrative detail by officially checking me off the ship, clearing my key codes, and giving me two data cubes. One held the ship’s copy of my official record, and the other contained a copy of my personal data space on the ship’s system. My records would not be purged, of course, because that would remove all my watch standing records and associated reports. My record would be marked as inactive on the ship and frozen at its final state.

  There wasn’t much more to say, but “Safe voyage” and everybody said it. I turned to slide the grav trunk out the lock and I heard the captain say, “0730, on the nose. Congrats, Pinkus," as the lock closed behind me.

  I set off down the docks heading for number twenty-eight and the Agamemnon. I got about halfway there before my tablet relayed a message from Geoff Maloney asking me to meet him at the ship at 0830. I changed course and headed for the lift. I had time to do some shopping before reporting to my nightmare.

  While I waited for the lift to arrive, I dropped the grav trunk to the deck and popped the top for a tick. I’d stashed Fredi’s stars just inside the lid and I swapped out my first mate’s flashes for the well used gold stars of captain. With Maloney’s reply, it was official.

  I was a clipper ship captain.

  I secured the trunk lid and lifted it on its field once more just as the lift’s double doors whooshed opened. I stood aside while several crew trooped out. Smiling to myself I strode confidently in my most captainly manner into the lift and was promptly smashed against the car’s back wall by the free floating mass of my grav trunk floating along behind.

  Luckily nothing serious got injured. My pride and vanity–apparently needing a bit of adjustment–did not fall into the category of "serious" things and I maneuvered out from behind the trunk before dropping it to the deck and punching the keys for the oh-one deck.

  Shopping took a little longer than expected, but I completed my tasks without further injury to my self or my esteem and reported to the lock at precisely 0825. I stood directly in the path of the video pickup on the lock but nobody bothered to open up to find out what I wanted. To be fair, I didn’t ring the call bell either.

  A tick before 0830, Geoff Maloney with Kurt in tow came up the docks. They both smiled at me and Kurt pressed the call button. We waited for the lock to open.

  When nothing happened after a solid tick, Kurt mashed call button again.

  We waited some more.

  I turned to Mr. Maloney. “Maybe nobody’s home.”

  He looked a bit peeved. “They’re expecting us. Or should be. I sent a message to the acting captain that we were on our way.”

  “Who’s acting captain?”

  “Chief engineer. Greta Gerheart.”

  “Did you send it to her, or to the ship?”

  “Ship, of course.”

  I considered for a moment. “She hasn’t received the message yet.”<
br />
  He glowered. “Either that or she’s just ignoring it.”

  I shook my head. “No, if you sent it to the ship, it’ll wait in the communications queue until the comms officer grabs it and routes it. The larger question is why hasn’t the brow watch answered the call button?”

  “Probably because the worthless git has fallen asleep on watch again and hasn’t heard it ringing.” The voice came from behind us and it echoed off down the docks. Maloney and I turned to see who had spoken. Kurt had already turned and was in threat assessment mode.

  The woman wore undress khaki’s with first mate flashes on the collar. She spoke with the deep, almost gravelly voice of a heavy worlder. She was built solidly, low to the ground, and not unattractive in a burly, fireplug kind of way. Her scalp under the officer’s cap was shaved and oiled–a style which did nothing to soften her angular features and square shoulders.

  Geoff Maloney spoke while I was still assessing. “Ah, Ms. Thomas. Good. May I introduce Captain Ishmael Wang. He’ll be taking Captain Delman’s place as soon as we can get him logged into the ship.”

  Her gaze was frankly appraising as she gave me the once over. “I figured.”

  I smiled and held out my hand. “Thank you, Ms. Thomas. I look forward to working with you.”

  A sly look crossed her face as she gripped my hand. She squeezed. I smiled. I didn’t squeeze back. I just held while she tried to work her mind around the fact that nothing was happening. She abruptly let go and stepped back, pulling out her tablet. She covered her imbalance by keying the lock. It popped open, rising slowly on its hinges.

  Kurt gave me a wink and a nod and even Maloney looked impressed. We followed the first mate through the lock and onto the ship. She stopped with her fists balled onto ample hips and stared in head-shaking amazement at a rather slovenly able spacer sprawled across the top of the watch stander’s small desk. It seemed impossible that anybody could find body balance on the short and narrow surface, but he gave every appearance of being asleep. We stood there looking at him but it was Kurt who alerted me to the stool behind the desk. It spun slowly on its swivel.

  Ms. Thomas looked like she was about to let loose, but I forestalled her with a raised hand and crossed to the desk.

  I leaned down and spoke softly but clearly, almost in his left ear. “Very cute, spacer, and I’ll give you credit for your skill in balancing, but if you’re done with the dead spacer act, I really need to have access to that terminal under your butt.”

  He bolted like he’d been stabbed, lost his balance, and fell onto the metal deck. I winced as he cracked an elbow on the way down.

  “Thank you, Mr.…?”

  He looked up me from the deck, his eyes having to roll up almost to his forehead to see me where I stood near his head.

  “Schubert, sar. Wendell.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Schubert. You know how to make a first impression rightly enough. Perhaps while I’m here we can work on making it a good first impression instead of this one, eh?”

  Ms. Thomas inhaled and was about to unload, but I caught her eye and gave her a little shake of the head. She saw it. Her eyes narrowed in response.

  And she unloaded anyway.

  She proceeded with a rather credible and sharply focused verbal flensing that included commentary on parentage, unlikely applications of bodily parts, and ended with imprecations of toxic levels of insectile infestation of certain body cavities. Even Kurt looked impressed.

  The only one who didn’t look impressed was Mr. Schubert.

  When she was through, I turned to Geoff Maloney. “Yes. This will do nicely,” I said. I reached into my pocket, pulled out two paint chips, and handed them to him. “Lighter color on the flat walls. Darker color on the curves. Any chance you could have that done before noon?”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Wang.”

  “Thank you, sir, I’d appreciate it. And now? If we could get me signed in? I think I’ve got some work to do.”

  By 0900 the deal was done. My tablet was locked to the ship net, and my codes and keys had been verified as captain of the Agamemnon. I showed Mr. Maloney and Kurt to the lock and stood with them outside.

  “Well, your first moments as captain will be burned into your memory, I should think.” Maloney flashed me a sardonic smile.

  “And the deck in there, if I’m any judge.” I smiled back and held out my hand. “Thanks. I was leery about this before but, I have to say, I’m looking forward to working with these people.”

  Maloney looked at me sharply to see if I was kidding. “Really? After that little stunt?”

  I looked over my shoulder. “Yes, sir. Actually because of that little stunt. If the rest of the crew is anything like the ones I’ve met so far, this should be a lot of fun.”

  “Fun?” Maloney was chuckling in incredulity. “You have a strange idea of fun.”

  I shrugged. “That spacer has nerve, creativity, and a wicked sense of humor. Properly focused, he could be something really impressive.”

  “He?” Maloney looked confused. “Don’t you mean she?”

  “Oh, Thomas? No, I mean Schubert. Thomas has other problems. I don’t know if we can help her or not, but I have some ideas.”

  Maloney was dumbfounded. “You got all that from a derelict spacer and steam whistle?”

  “I might be right. I might be wrong. The worst that can happen is that the Agamemnon is the worst ship in the fleet.” I paused for just a heartbeat. “Oh, yeah. It’s already the worst ship in the fleet.” I shrugged.

  Kurt turned to scan the docks for threats and I could see his mouth twitching back a grin.

  Maloney shook his head and chuckled a little. “I”ve seen some cocky skippers in my day, Ishmael, but I’ve either made the best decision of my life or the worst. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Why did you name it Agamemnon?”

  “Why not? He was a hero of the Trojan war. King of ancient Greece.”

  “Actually, Mycene or Argos depending on what language you’re reading it in and he offended pretty much every god going. He stole another man’s woman, got his men lost in transit, and in the end, when he finally made his way home, he was killed by his own wife and her boyfriend. Not what you’d call a stellar example to hold up.”

  Maloney was staring at me, his head cocked just slightly.

  “Oh, and one more thing?”

  “Yes, Mr. Wang?”

  “Paint. Please don’t forget the paint. I’ve got a lot of work to do here and the sooner I get at it, the better we’ll all like it.”

  “Kurt, would you call the office. Get these chips to Jameson and see to it that the cabin is painted immediately?”

  “Of course, sir.” Kurt took the chips, and tapped the surface of a discreet ear piece in his right ear.

  “Thank you, Mr. Maloney.”

  “I think you’re welcome, Ishmael. Safe voyage.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I turned and walked into the ship, punching the lock closed as I passed through the far side.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Diurnia Orbital:

  2372-January-09

  Back aboard, I found Mr. Schubert at the watch desk looking not very repentant, and trying to appear not very interested in the new captain.

  I looked down the passageway into the ship and saw no one in sight, so I turned back to the watch desk.

  “Did you wish to make a statement, Mr. Schubert?”

  “A statement?”

  “That should be, ‘A statement, sar,’ Mr. Schubert, or perhaps ‘Sar? I’m not sure what you mean,’ or even ‘Excuse me, sar?’ Any of those would indicate your lack of understanding for the request, Mr. Schubert. The operative point I wish to make, however, is that the honorific ‘sar’ should be included whenever addressing an officer in an official capacity when not specifically using name or title.”

  I took a breath to let him catch up.

  “Do I make myself clear, Mr. Schubert?”

  “Not exac
tly. No.”

  “’Not exactly, No..’ what, Mr. Schubert?”

  “Huh?”

  “Let me put it in words you might understand, Mr. Schubert. When you address me, you address me as Captain, Captain Wang, or sar. Repeat after me, Mr. Schubert. ‘Yes, sar’”

  “Yes, sar.”

  “Yes, Captain,” I said.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Aye, bloody aye, Captain Wang, sar.”

  “Aye, bloody aye, Captain Wang, sar.”

  “Very good, Mr. Schubert. And the next time you choose to play the fool with me, Mr. Schubert, we’ll be addressing you as Spacer Apprentice Schubert. Do you understand me, Mr. Schubert?”

  “Yes, sar. Perfectly, sar.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Schubert. Carry on.”

  I turned to activate my grav pallet as Schubert said, “Aye aye.”

  I didn’t turn back to him, but froze in place and cocked an ear.

  “Sar.”

  I headed into the ship and found the ladder up just where I’d have expected it to be, just around the corner from the lock. The grav trunk followed right along up the ladder behind me and I found myself in officer country. According to the schematic on my tablet, the cabin was on the forward end of the hull and held pride of place across the bow of the ship and just above the main lock. I wondered what that would do to my sleeping, having the cabin above the lock. Then I remembered the crew only had eight members--about the same size as a single watch section on the Lois. With that perspective, I suspected I might be grateful to be able to hear when my boys and girls came home in the night.

  As usual, what I expected completely failed to match what I found. I’d heard the Damiens were small and uncomfortable, but I was used to the Unwin Barbells and their extremely low overheads. Both ships were twenty meters tall from top to bottom, but the Barbells had six decks in that distance while the Damiens had only four. That made for considerably more overhead room, even in officer country. The main deck felt almost like a ballroom. There were other considerations but the fact that the crew was pared down to the minimum necessary to stand a three-watch rotation meant that all the space, storage, and logistical requirements were pared down almost geometrically. The tractor carried only about half as much cargo as the barbell, but needed less than a third of the crew. Granted, they were mostly officers, but still. The economics of this design seemed wildly under appreciated, and I was pondering that when I stepped into the cabin.