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

by Nathan Lowell

  “So, was I once. Briefly.”

  He looked very startled at that, but offered no comment.

  I went back over the list and looked at how well he’d filled in the critical holes. There weren’t any of them that would have put the ship at risk or were particularly serious in terms of ship’s services, but they were the kinds of standing orders that assured the smooth running of the ship during normal operations and largely addressed the comfort of the crew.

  I sat back in my seat and stared at the list. “Mr. Hill, I have another collateral duty for you.”

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “Sorry. This really does seem like it comes right from the No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Department but I’d like you to head up a group to revise the standing orders.”

  “Me, Captain?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hill. You’ve already given this a great deal of thought and I’d like to capitalize on that good work. Tap Mr. Ricks, Mr. Wyatt, Chief Gerheart, and Mr. Pall, with my compliments. What I’d like is a review of existing standing orders. Come up with any revisions to those orders that may be required to keep them consistent with the current state of the ship and her systems, as well as any additional orders that might be required to fill in the gaps.” I paused for breath. “You’ve identified some gaps already. I’d like to do what I can to fill any that you may not yet have thought of.”

  He nodded slowly. “There are officers in that group, Captain.”

  “I’m aware of that, Mr. Hill. Use them well, but abuse them at your peril.”

  “What if they don’t like it, Captain?” He seemed uneasy.

  “They’d like heading up the committee much less, Mr. Hill.”

  “Captain, were you always this vicious?”

  “I’ve worked hard to develop the talent to its current level, Mr. Hill.”

  “I don’t doubt you for a second, Captain.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mr. Hill.”

  “Any time, Skipper.”

  I grinned and he turned back to his helm.

  Mentioning Chief Gerheart reminded me. I needed to talk to her about raising the deck. I sent her a quick note asking her to join me on the bridge when she had a moment. I hadn’t done much more than send it when she popped up onto the bridge.

  “I was on my way anyway, Captain.” The little girl smiled out at me this morning.

  I pulled out my tablet and began a rough sketch of the table and it’s context in the galley. “I need a favor, Chief. If you could do this before lunch, I’d appreciate it.”

  She frowned seriously at the sketch. I explained the situation briefly and she chewed on the corner of her lip, never taking her eyes off the sketch in my hands as if fearing that it might disappear if she looked away.

  “Do you know how high, Captain?”

  I shook my head. “The most direct approach would be to ask, but Ms. Thomas is asleep.”

  She nodded her understanding. “I’ve several ideas, Captain, but …” She started to reach across me to my console before she realized what she was doing. She froze halfway and looked a question at me. I sat back out of the way with a gesture for her to continue. She pulled up Ms. Thomas’s jacket where it listed her height. “This will give me a solid place to start, Captain. Thank you.”

  She flipped the screen back to the exact place it was before she’d touched it and turned to frown at the sketch once more. She was concentrating heavily now and I recognized the symptoms. “I know what but I don’t know where, Skipper.” I don’t think she realized it but the little girl voice had a bit of an edge. Mr. Hill heard it. He didn’t turn but he stiffened in his seat.

  I used the stylus to put an X on the diagram on one corner of the table. “That position. Fix it so the person sitting here can use it.”

  She pulled back a bit, straightening and gazing. She looked at me with an almost sapphire gaze. “There?”

  I nodded.

  “Not beside you?”

  I shook my head.

  She looked at the sketch again very intently before smiling. “Insight, hunch, or edict?”

  “Hunch.”

  “I like your style, Skipper.”

  “I like yours, too, Chief.”

  That brought the little girl back. She giggled a bit with a nervous glance in Mr. Hill’s direction.

  “Carry on, Chief.”

  She did.

  After the sound of her footsteps made it clear she was gone, Mr. Hill turned to me. “Captain?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hill?”

  “What’s with her voice, sar?”

  “Her voice, Mr. Hill?”

  “Yes, Captain. Her voice. I’ve been aboard for what? Five stanyers? I’ve never heard her speak much above a whisper and always in that little girl voice she has.”

  “Your point, Mr. Hill?

  “Captain, that was not a little girl voice.”

  “Really, Mr. Hill? I hadn’t noticed.”

  The hairy eyeball he gave me back was one lash short of insubordination and masterfully done. “Captain, has anyone ever told you--?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hill. I am a very bad liar. I try to avoid it where possible. Please, don’t give me more practice.”

  “You know, then, sar.”

  “Yes, Ms. D’Heng and Ms. Jaxton on the Tinker kept me appraised of my progress on a regular basis. I’m a slow learner, Mr. Hill. What can I say?”

  He took the hint and turned back to his helm.

  I turned back to my own console and ran through a routine scan of ship’s position, velocity, and overall status. On the bottom of the screen, ETA to jump caught my eye. 2372 February 15.

  “Mr. Hill, so you have an estimated jump date on your display?”

  “Yes, Captain, the fifteenth of February.”

  “What’s the date today displaying as, Mr. Hill?”

  “January 12, Captain.” He straightened up in his seat and looked over at me with little glances. “Something wrong, sar?”

  “Do you have any idea why it’s going to take us almost five weeks to hit jump, Mr. Hill?”

  “No, sar. I’m just the helm. Mr. Pall does the plotting.”

  I forced myself to take a breath before I spoke again. It wouldn’t do to lose it on the bridge. “And does five weeks seem a reasonable run out to you, Mr. Hill?”

  He shrugged, still scanning his board. “Seems like it’s always about that, Skipper.”

  “Always on the run out of Diurnia?”

  “No, Skipper. Always. We run out about five weeks, jump, run in about five weeks. It’s just what we do.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hill. Valuable insight.”

  “Is something wrong, Captain?” He asked again, looking over at me with concern on his face.

  “No, Mr. Hill.” I kicked myself mentally. “If this is the norm, then there’s probably a good reason.”

  He settled back into his chair and turned to the helm. “You’ll need a lot more practice, Captain.”

  “No doubt, Mr. Hill, but let me check my assumptions before I commit my blunders. I prefer to make my mistakes on purpose rather than by accident.”

  “An interesting philosophy, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hill.” I started slapping keys and he was smart enough leave me alone while I ran a few numbers of my own. I got to the end and had a date in March. I sighed and started checking it again. I didn’t spot the error so I erased the work space and filled it in from scratch. Unfortunately, in my zeal, I had erased all the default values for ship’s systems as well and had to reload them all from current status. I got to the bottom and had a date in early February which seemed much more likely. I was still concerned that I didn’t have some key piece of the puzzle. I sat back in my chair to think.

  “Find it, Skipper?” Mr. Hill hadn’t turned his head before speaking.

  “I don’t know, Mr. Hill. I think so, but I need more information.”

  He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “This is going to be an interesting c
ruise, Captain.”

  I grinned. “You just figuring that out, Mr. Hill?”

  He snickered a little. “I’ve had some hints, sar, but I think this is the first time it’s really hit home.” He shrugged a little apologetically. “Slow learner, sar, what can I say?”

  “As long as we learn eventually, Mr. Hill, that’s the key.”

  He nodded in agreement. I looked at the chronometer and my empty mug. “How do we get a fresh cup of coffee up here, Mr. Hill?”

  He looked at his mug, too. “I don’t know, Captain. I’ve never really been tempted by a second so I’ve never bothered to find out.”

  “In five stanyers, Mr. Hill?”

  He shrugged. “Captain, you may have noticed that the coffee aboard wasn’t all that good.”

  “I did notice some improvements in recent days now that you mention it, Mr. Hill.”

  I pondered for a moment. “How long do you think it would take you to scamper down to the galley, fill two mugs, and come back?”

  He looked over at me to see if I was serious. “Three ticks, max, Skipper. Why?”

  I held up my mug. “Just a splash of milk, if you please, Mr. Hill. Go.”

  “The helm, Skipper?”

  I stood up and crossed to his post. “Scoot, man. I’m qualified.”

  He scooted, taking his own mug with him, and trailing an “aye, aye, Captain,” in his wake.

  I hadn’t gotten a chance to settle into the seat before he was back with a grin and two mugs. He handed one to me as I slipped out of his chair and into my own.

  “Make a note to deal with that, Mr. Hill.”

  “Captain?”

  “In the standing orders. Bridge watch needs refreshment and we have no messengers to help. That needs to be addressed.”

  He actually pulled out his tablet and, as I watched, made a note. I grinned and opened my own comms channel at the console and sent low priority messages to establish the work group to review standing orders.

  “Captain?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hill.”

  “You’re humming.”

  “Interesting, Mr. Hill. I wasn’t aware. Does it bother you?”

  “No, Captain. Just–never had a captain who hummed.”

  “I usually whistle, Mr. Hill.”

  He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye once and settled into his seat with a wry smile. “Yeah. Interesting trip, indeed.”

  “Did you say something, Mr. Hill?”

  “No, Captain.”

  “Very well, Mr. Hill. Carry on.”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Diurnia System:

  2372-January-12

  Mr. Pall popped up the ladder right on time at 1145 with Mr. Ricks in tow. We did the needful and I vacated the bridge in favor of the mess deck. As I walked in, Ms. Thomas stood beside the table, bent over peering under it at a raised, and slightly tilted box. If Chief Gerheart’s calculations were correct, she would be able to comfortably rest her feet while seated.

  Mr. Wyatt was very busy not noticing as he bustled around the ovens, pulling out a very credible casserole of what smelled like chicken, and a tray of ready-bake rolls.

  “What do you think, Ms. Thomas? Will it work?” I asked.

  She straightened from her examination and beamed at me. “It does work, Skipper. I tried it already and was just looking to see how she’d managed it.”

  Chief Gerheart showed up at my elbow then. “Mastic, Gwen. Stick’um works good.” Her voice had that bright little girl tone and she sounded as proud of herself as any four year old with a mud pie.

  Gwen slipped up onto the bench and placed her feet on the box. She gave a kind of settling shake to her body and placed her hands, palm down on the table. She looked up then and actually whispered. “Thank you, both.”

  Chief Gerheart grinned and I nodded my acknowledgment, before crossing over to the ready cooler. “How can I help you, Mr. Wyatt?”

  He glanced over from arranging the casserole on a hot pad and nodded at the cooler. “You should find a large bowl of salad and a couple of bottles of dressing in there, Captain. It all needs to come out and go on the sideboard.”

  “Got it, Mr. Wyatt.”

  We bustled around setting up the buffet while the crew gathered. When it was all ready, Mr. Wyatt nodded to me. “That looks like it, Skipper.”

  I stepped back and admired the spread. “Nice job, Mr. Wyatt.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  The clock ticked over to 1200 and I took captain’s privilege, grabbing the first plate and starting down the line. Ms. Thomas came right behind me and Chief Gerheart behind her. After that I lost track but the boys seemed to sort it out among themselves and in a matter of just a few minutes I’d taken my place on the left side of the table on one end, thereby establishing, once and for all, the head. It happened to be, through absolutely no coincidence at all, directly across from Ms. Thomas. The chief engineer sat next to the first mate, and as I expected, Mr. Hill sat on the opposite end of the bench from me, while Mr. Schubert sat opposite him, establishing the foot of the table. With the order established, I felt certain it would remain.

  Chief Gerheart watched covertly as the seats filled. When Mr. Wyatt took the trays up to the bridge, she hid a wink and a nod in my direction behind her coffee mug.

  “I think Mr. Wyatt would take it amiss if we let his excellent efforts get cold.” I announced it to the table at large and took the ceremonial first bite. My first lunch mess underway got off to a good start. I had hopes that it would finish well. There was a certain amount of tension for me, and I think for the rest of the crew as they began to get used to the idea that we were, indeed, one crew. Even Mr. Wyatt’s return failed to bring doom upon the party as he took up trencher and mug and after a single heartbeat’s consideration took the seat beside Chief Gerheart and not the one next to me.

  The Chief grinned, licked one fingertip delicately, and made a kind of tally mark in the air with a nod in my direction. I gave her a small toast with my coffee cup and the meal progressed swimmingly.

  For dessert, Mr. Wyatt brought out small cups of frozen custard, each garnished with a strawberry and a drizzle of chocolate syrup, and by 1245 we were all pushed back and replete. Even Ms. Thomas.

  As the last of us finished and the meal drew to a close, I held my mug in toast to Mr. Wyatt. “My compliments to the chef!” It was followed by a general round of raised mugs and glasses with echoes of “Hear! Hear!”

  He looked embarrassed but pleased, and was gracious in his acceptance.

  When lunch started to break up, I was pleased and surprised to see Ms. Thomas and Mr. Schubert stand to help Mr. Wyatt with cleanup without being asked. I hoped this would be a pattern that would continue as well. I stood, bussed my dirties and, with a suggestion to Mr. Hill that he make an effort to get some rest before he reported to watch, left the mess deck with what I hoped was a cheerful, “Carry on.”

  It was the tight turnaround slot in my watch schedule. We’d done six stans on, and were off for six. We’d be back on watch from 1800 until midnight when we’d go off watch until midnight the following day. I thought I really should take a nap myself, but I had a nagging problem that I needed solved before I would be able to rest.

  I scampered up to the bridge and took a seat at the engineering station which was handiest to the main watch console.

  “How’s the watch so far, Mr. Pall?”

  “No hostiles as yet, Captain. We’ve a weather eye peeled.”

  “Excellent news, Mr. Pall. If you can spare a moment from pirate patrol, I’ve a bit of a confusion that I’d like you to clear up.”

  “Certainly, Skipper. Keep a sharp lookout, Mr. Ricks.”

  “Aye, sar. Keeping a sharp lookout, sar.”

  Mr. Pall turned to give me his complete attention.

  “I was running some astrogation exercises and I came across an odd anomaly that I hope you can explain to me, Mr. Pall.”
>
  “I’ll try, Skipper. What’s up?”

  I pointed to a worksheet on the console’s local storage. “Open up that plotting calculator, if you would, Mr. Pall.”

  “Aye, aye, sar.” He was already opening it before the words were out of his mouth.

  “If you’d check the jump estimate, you’ll see a date that’s substantially different than ours, Mr. Pall.”

  He was deep in the calculation and that’s where I wanted him. “Aye, Skipper. I see that. What I don’t see is why you think this is our ship.”

  “What do you mean, Mr. Pall?”

  “These setups are all wrong.”

  “Why are they wrong, Mr. Pall?”

  He held that sheet open while he slipped the formal astrogation displays open behind it. A few flicks of the keys and he had an identical worksheet open with defaults set that were radically different from the ones I’d pulled from the current ship’s systems.

  He pointed to the screen. “That’s our ship, Captain.”

  “Where do those numbers come from, Mr. Pall?”

  “Template file, Captain. It’s our baseline for all astrogation calculation.”

  I blinked at him. “But the ship is different each trip. How can you use a template for astrogation?”

  He shrugged. “It seemed odd to me, too, Skipper, but when I came here, Captain Delman showed me the set up and gave me the standing order. It’s what he wanted, so that’s what I’ve been doing. Why?”

  “Standing order, Mr. Pall?”

  He nodded and pulled up the file with the requisite order and opened it for me to read. I remembered reading it but the implications of it hadn’t really sunk in because it looked like a pretty standard ‘follow the established procedure’ order.

  “And the established procedure is to use this template every time.”

  “Yes, Captain. Those are the settings for the ship’s baseline.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Captain Delman, Skipper.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Pall. Did it ever seem odd to you that every trip was exactly ten weeks long?”

  He thought about it for a few ticks. “Well, no. I guess I never noticed. Are you sure, Captain?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’d have to check the logs, but do me a favor, run up an exercise sheet. Plot Diurnia to Jett using your template.”