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

by Nathan Lowell

  “None in the least. In fact all the other ships chase down their own cargoes and all we ask is that they file a flight plan so we know where they’re going.”

  “All but Mr. Wyatt.”

  “Yes, lovely man, but as I say, he sometimes needs just a little help.”

  “Thank you, that clears up a bit of confusion I had. DST wouldn’t have any problem if we started tracking down our own cans?”

  “Just file the flight plans and don’t lose money.” The clerk smiled brightly. “Is there anything else, Captain?”

  “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you.”

  Five ticks later, I was back aboard. When I passed through the lock, Mr. Schubert said, “Welcome back, sar.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Schubert. Any problems?”

  “None, Captain. All shipshape and bristol fashion.”

  “Carry on, Mr. Schubert.”

  “Aye, sar.”

  I tried not to smile, but then I remembered the freezers and I didn’t feel like smiling. The main galley freezers and stores were just aft of the galley. I found the passage easily enough and walked back to do a fast inventory myself.

  The canned goods in the pantry were a bit distressing. Not a lot of variety there, then I started thinking about how they might be augmented. Some of the soups would make a good base for something more interesting. A lot of the staples that I’d normally expect to see dried and loose were just cooked and in cans–not my preferred mode, but they could be made to serve. The chillers were almost completely devoid of root crop vegetables and tree fruits. They were almost completely devoid of everything, truth be told. I didn’t remember ever seeing ready chillers so empty.

  The freezers were my real concern. That was a lot of food and the dates on it were very near. Most of it would be beyond expiration within the next ninety days and all of it would be gone in four months.

  When I got to the freezers, though, I almost laughed in relief. Standard freezers operate at about -20C. Food kept frozen there will stay safe from bacteria and decay almost indefinitely. The degradation in food quality really happens when foods become freezer burned–desiccated by extended freezing–or if the temperature isn’t maintained at a constant level.

  The shipboard freezers were not the standard freezer. If the gauges over the doors were correct, they maintained -50C. At that temperature, the foodstuffs would probably be safe for decades, or until the power was cut.

  I opened one and peeked in. It was full. I recognized some of the cartons and they were all pristine. No sign of condensation, freezer rime, or other symptoms that would indicate that there might be a problem. I slammed the heavy door shut before much of the cold air had a chance to escape and vowed to spot check the inventories. Between the canned goods and the freezers, we had plenty of food. We may get bored, but we wouldn’t starve, and that gave us time to rotate some of this frozen stock.

  The knot in my gut began to unwind before I remembered that it was just the first day and it wasn’t over.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Diurnia Orbital:

  2372-January-09

  Philip Delman met me at the front door of Jimmy’s promptly at 1900. He wore civvies but I hadn’t had time to change out of my undress khakis. I was pretty sure we wouldn’t evoke the slightest comment. We went in and the maitre d’ seated us immediately. We were unfashionably early for fine dining on the Orbital, which was just the way I liked it.

  I almost felt bad for the crew aboard. Wyatt had taken a chance and stretched his culinary wings for the evening meal. He’d skipped the can of soup and opened a can of beans instead. I very purposefully did not critique his efforts, preferring to acquire adequate information before taking remedial action.

  We ordered and while the drinks were being drawn, Philip opened the conversational gambit with a classic. “So, how was your first day at the office?”

  “I don’t remember the last time twelve stans went by so fast. How about you? The Tinker adapting to you?”

  “That crew is amazing, Ishmael. You were right, Behr is formidable and Kazyanenko is brilliant.” He shook his head in wonder and turned eagerly to allow the waiter to place a pre-prandial cocktail in front of him.

  “Any lines on a new second mate?”

  “Yes, I’m meeting with one in the morning. The company posted yesterday and his name came up today. So, we’re hoping that we’ll be sympatico and we’ll be getting underway the day after. How about you?” I could have sworn he smirked into his highball. “How’s the crew treating you?”

  “Not too bad actually. I do have some questions for you.”

  “I dare say.” He smiled at me, as if enjoying some private joke.

  “What’s with Wyatt and the food?”

  “Oh, his opening cans?”

  “Well, that and the freezers full of chow that have never been used?”

  “Freezers full?”

  “Yeah. The three freezers in the galley stores section are full of food that has been there for months. If the inventories are right, there’s only a dozen kilograms missing from the original shipments.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the inventories are right. That man can count with the best. What he can’t do is think.”

  I sipped my own drink as the waiter delivered the first course. I had a nice salad of greens dressed with oil and balsamic vinegar. Philip had the soup.

  When the waiter had gone I followed up. “Interesting observation. Do you know why he won’t carry a tablet?”

  “Oh, yes. He drops them. Repeatedly. Maddening thing.”

  “Any idea why? I mean we all drop them occasionally.” I had, in fact, dropped mine exactly three times since I got my current upgrade almost five stanyers before.

  Delman shook his head. “Not really. They’re pretty heavily armored so how he manages to break it is beyond me.”

  I moved on. “What do you think of his cargo picking?”

  Delman finished the sup of soup he was taking before replying. “That was probably the single most aggravating thing he did. It seemed like we were always in port six or seven days–occasionally eight or nine while he looked for a cargo. When he found one, it was almost always a low yield box of nothing.”

  “Almost like he just took the first thing on the open cargo list that the ship could haul?”

  Philip brightened. “Exactly! And I never could understand why. I talked to him repeatedly about his initiative and entrepreneurial spirit but nothing I said to him seemed to stick.”

  “Did you, by any chance, ever tell him that he should be picking his own cargos?”

  At this Delman looked confused. “Tell him what?”

  “Anything like ‘these last few shipments have been really low value and our shares are hurting because of it?’”

  “Why in the world would I have done that, Ishmael my lad? The man was a cargo chief. He had to know that.”

  “Did you ever pick a cargo or two yourself, just to help out, show what you were looking for?”

  His eyes went wide in alarm. “Certainly not! I’m a Deck officer, I don’t know anything about cargo picking. That’s what the cargo officers are for.”

  “You’ll appreciate Mr. Hinds, I think.”

  “Marcus? That man is genius. You know he had a cargo can lined up on that first day I talked to him?”

  “I suspect he did.” I didn’t get into it, but Marcus usually had our next cargo commitment a least a week before we tied up from the last. He missed a few good ones that he might have gotten if he’d waited, but he also locked down some excellent cargoes that would have gotten away from us otherwise. The Tinker’s crew enjoyed very reliable shares under his picking.

  “What’s with Gerheart? Anything odd with her? Other than she looks fifteen and sounds twelve?”

  Delman’s spoon scraped the last of the soup out of the bowl. “I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure?”

  He shrugged. “She appears to be some kind of idiot savant. Looks at equipment and kno
ws how to make it work. Breakdowns don’t happen. If she ever tells you something needs replacing? Replace it. Immediately, if not sooner.”

  I thought his tone carried a certain bitter voice of experience. “So she’s competent? I checked her logs and they’re impeccable.”

  “I have no idea how she got on that ship, to tell the truth. She’s much too competent. The only thing I’ve ever had a problem with is that she talks in that whispery, little kid voice all the time.”

  I thought about that as the waiter delivered the entrees. I had a nicely flaked white fish fillet and Delman had a steak. We gave homage to the culinary gods for a few ticks while the food was hot and my mind digested.

  Delman returned us to the business of captaining. “What can you tell me about Chief Menas, speaking of engineers?”

  “Brilliant engineer. Great manager. She keeps that after nacelle neat as a pin. Decks are clean enough to eat off. Her engineering gang dotes on her.”

  “She seems rather cool toward me.”

  I gave a little shrug. Mel was also a very astute judge of character, but I didn’t mention that. “Give her time to get to see you in action.” I also didn’t say what the likely outcome of that might be.

  “I suspect you’re right.” He chewed meditatively for half a tick. “Are there any weak spots in the chain of command there?”

  “I think you’ll find that the people under you on the chain are rock steady, know their jobs, and like to do them. I can’t speak for this new guy, but the rest you should find to your liking.”

  He actually beamed. “Excellent.”

  “Talk to me about Ms. Thomas? What’s her story?”

  “Oh, Gwen is invaluable. She’ll keep those ratings on their toes, let me tell you.”

  “Really? I haven’t met them all to form an opinion yet, but Mr. Schubert seems to be fairly sharp. Undisciplined, maybe, but sharp.”

  “Sharp as a knife in the back.”

  “In what way?”

  “Count on him to do something to embarrass the ship every chance he gets!”

  “You mean like failing to acknowledge the call button for the owner and then pretending to be asleep on watch until somebody else gets it open?”

  Delman blanched. “He didn’t.”

  I nodded.

  Delman sighed. “Well, I hope Gwen ripped him a strip of fresh hide for that one. Are you sure he was only pretending to be asleep?”

  “I’m pretty sure. Have you ever heard that call buzzer from inside the ship?”

  “Oh, yeah. You can hear that thing all the way up into officer country.”

  “Rather unlikely that he’d have slept through it ringing multiple times, don’t you think?”

  He seemed startled by that notion. “Does seem unlikely doesn’t it?”

  “What else can you tell me about the boys?”

  “Hill is the ringleader. He’s got the gift of gab and an evil mind. Ricks is the space lawyer. He’ll cite you chapter and verse every chance he gets.”

  “And Schubert?”

  “Schubert’s the class clown. He’ll do anything for a laugh. He refilled my teabags with oregano once, and coated the announcer mic on the bridge with something like shoe black. Ms. Thomas looked like she’d been kissing a coal scuttle for two days.”

  “Yes, on Ms. Thomas. What’s with the cabin door?”

  He laughed. “Already got you there, eh? I have no idea. She has some very strange ideas on propriety and you will not get her to budge on that.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. I don’t know if she was abused as a cadet or if she just hopes she will be.”

  Right up to that point I thought Captain Philip Delman might have been merely a bit dense. That comment told me why he’d been put on the Agamemnon. It gave me pause to wonder if perhaps there was a reason that I had been given the assignment.

  I concentrated on my food and let the conversation lapse for a few ticks.

  “I thought you were going to ask about her voice.”

  “Her voice? What about her voice?”

  “It’s loud.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “You hadn’t noticed? The blackguards in the crew quarters call her ‘Foghorn’ behind her back.”

  I made a show of considering before offering a shrug. “Don’t know that I really noticed.”

  He snorted. “I don’t know how you could miss it.”

  I let the remark pass. “Any comments on Pall. I just met him briefly this evening at watch change. He seems nice enough. A bit young for second.”

  “Ah, Billy is a dear boy. First in his class at the academy. Got second on his first try. I don’t know if he’ll ever make first.”

  “Why not? He looks ok.”

  “Billy the Buccaneer.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “They call him Billy the Buccaneer. The kid’s got pirates under his bunk. Everything that happens, it’s pirates. Milk goes bad? Pirates. Jump missed by a few klicks? Pirates. Give him a chance and he’ll regale you with tales of the famous pirates of High Tortuga.”

  “High Tortuga?”

  “Yes, he claims there’s this mythical place out there in the Deep Dark where the pirates congregate called High Tortuga. He’ll tell you all about it if you give him half a chance.”

  I considered that while I finished off my fish. “That doesn’t sound like it would get in the way of his making first mate.”

  “Normally, I’d agree. There aren’t that many questions about pirates on the first’s exam as I remember it.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because young Mr. Pall is convinced that the pirates know he knows about them and they’ll try to kill him if he goes any higher in the chain of command.”

  “Paranoia?”

  “Let’s just say a little light on the stabilizing thrusters.”

  “When’s he eligible to sit for first?”

  “Next year sometime.”

  I made a mental note of that.

  We filled the remainder of the meal with background and war stories. At the end of the meal, over a final coffee for me and a sherry for him, he returned to discussing my crew.

  “Yes, you’ve got your work cut out for you, Ishmael my lad. Gwennie will keep the boys in line for you, and Gerheart will get you there. Billy the Buccaneer might keep you entertained if you like pirate stories, but the weak link there is Wyatt. He’s barely competent to open a can and he seems to have all the logic and reasoning of a stuffed green pepper.”

  “Well, I’m looking forward to the challenge. I think we might be able to do something here.”

  “You watch your back, Ishmael. That crew will break your heart and the boys will stomp you into the deck.”

  I thought about that as I settled up with the establishment–expensive but worth every credit for what I’d learned. The food was a nice side benefit.

  We walked together to the lift and he got out at the dock.

  “Good night, Ishmael my lad. Congratulations and best wishes on the Agamemnon.”

  We shook hands. “Congratulations on the Tinker as well.” I hesitated for heartbeat before adding. “You’ve got a great crew there. They’ll be a tremendous help to you.”

  “Oh, I’m certain, Ishmael. After the incompetence of the Agamemnon, this crew is a breath of fresh air.”

  The lift doors closed and I pulled out my tablet to admire the menu that Wyatt had sent me just before I left the ship. Not only did he have a menu, when I went back to him and asked him to plan it using only the food stocks available in ship’s inventory, he had it revised in less than half a stan. “Not bad work for a stuffed green pepper,” I said just as the doors opened on oh-seven.

  The stationer waiting there blinked once. “Excuse me, Captain?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “Oh, nothing. Bad habit I have of talking to myself.”

  She smiled in reply and stepped into the car as I stepped off.

  I hurried to our apartment to chang
e into civvies before heading over to The Miller Moth. I wanted to visit with Jen for awhile and she’d be working until 0200. I knew from experience that if I sat on the end of the bar, we’d be able to chat and visit between customers. It was a pleasant way to spend an evening.

  In two shakes I’d stripped out of my uniform and started rummaging in the closet. I grabbed my favorite pair of jeans, and went thru the hangers looking for a shirt. I grabbed a handy one and slipped it off the hanger and onto my shoulders in one smooth movement. I looked at it in the mirror while I buttoned and had one of those odd moments of blankness.

  I’m good with clothes, but I could not for the life of me remember where I’d gotten it. It fit a bit snugly about the shoulders and loose around my waist, though and I hated clothes that didn’t fit right. I must have gotten so long ago I’d misplaced the mental receipt, and when it didn’t fit it got pushed to the back of the closet.

  I shrugged off the lapse. It was good enough to suit the purpose. I tugged on my boots and headed down to the pub to chat up the gorgeous woman who I was pretty sure I’d be sleeping with later. That thought gave me a warm smile.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Diurnia Orbital:

  2372-January-10

  My tablet started beeping me awake almost before I got to sleep. I supected I’d made a tactical blunder by sitting with Jen at the bar until she and George closed it up at 0200. We’d come home for what might most charitably have been characterized as falling on each other like animals.

  Repeatedly.

  The beeping was my conscience and my penance would be a day of duty without sleep. I slapped the shut off and realized that I had enough to do to keep me awake. I probably wouldn’t notice.

  I grabbed a fast three tick shower, put my uniform mostly on, patted myself on the back for not being hungover as well as exhausted and made my way to the ship. Ricks was on the brow and greeted me pleasantly enough when I stepped aboard at 0500.

  “What’s for breakfast this morning, Mr. Ricks?”

  He seemed surprised that I’d addressed him. “I’m sure I don’t know. Captain.”

  “If you had to guess, what would it be?”