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

by Nathan Lowell

  I looked out the ports at the stars.

  I saw her head turn as she scanned around. “True.” I thought I heard a grudging acceptance in her tone.

  “You don’t have to study, if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do very much except help out around the ship, and keep your bridge watches.”

  “What do you mean help out around the ship, Captain?”

  “Just that, Ms. Maloney. We’re a small crew here, more family than crew and we’ll rely on each other more, not less, because there’s only the four of us.”

  There was pause while she digested that.

  “Why did you agree to take me on, Captain?”

  “I needed crew, Ms. Maloney.”

  “Actually, Captain, I looked it up. You only need an engineer. You’re not required to maintain a bridge watch on any ship under ten metric kilotons.” She paused, and turned to look at me. “Why the charade?”

  I shook my head. “No charade. I’m perfectly aware that I don’t need to have a crew, that I can run the ship from the mess deck or my cabin as easily as I can from the bridge. Well, mostly. Maneuvering near the orbital really does require line of sight.”

  “Then why, Captain?”

  “Because those rules make me nervous. I don’t like the idea of not having a bridge watch. Somebody to just be awake on board in case something happens.”

  “What if something does happen? What then, sar?”

  “Then you call for help. It’s the first rule of watchstanding. If it’s outside your expertise, something that shouldn’t be there, and nothing you know how to deal with, yell. Yell loud, yell long, and yell until somebody comes along.”

  We sat there for a time, drinking coffee, sailing along in the dark.

  “So why did you take me on, Captain? Assuming I buy your explanation about wanting a bridge watch, why me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She spun around again to look at me. “You don’t know?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  She stared at me, incredulity visible even in the reduced light.

  “I mean, I’d like to say it was because I had such vast respect for your father, and if somebody outside the company had to take you under his wing, then I’d do it to repay him, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “But no?” she asked.

  “No. Your father did all right by me. I’d be the first to admit it, but he hired me to be a stalking goat, and threw me into the William Tinker. That was fifteen stanyers ago when I was right out of the academy. He didn’t pick me for my native wit and intelligence, or even my skill and knowledge, and if it was because of my placement in the graduating class it was because I wasn’t near the top of it.”

  “He didn’t pick you because you’re stupid, Captain. My father doesn’t—didn’t—suffer fools. At all.”

  “At the time, he told me a lot of nice things about the kind of third mate he wanted, and that Commandant Giggone had recommended me. It felt good at the time, but I was young and foolish then, Ms. Maloney.”

  “You’re not now, Captain?”

  I grinned. “I’m not young now, Ms. Maloney. I’m still foolish but I’m learning to work around it. I hope.”

  She smiled, I think, in spite of herself.

  “I think part of it is certainly a sense of debt. Kirsten Kinsley wouldn’t have arranged to have this ship declared scrap so the price would be low enough that I could actually get it.” I shrugged. “We never shook any hands, or made any deals, but she blew enough smoke up my skirt to make me think I should, but no, I didn’t do it for your father. I think maybe I might have done it for the company—not the stockholders and management but for the other ships and crews. For all the people that the new CEO will be important to.”

  “You thought you could teach me whatever it is he wanted me to learn?”

  I shrugged. “That’s up for grabs, Ms. Maloney. I still don’t know what that is, so that’s a bit of an obstacle.”

  “Then why?”

  I sipped my coffee, and trying to think of a diplomatic way to put it. “Because I know the other companies around, and I didn’t want you to go to any of them for a stanyer, and come back to run DST.”

  “Yes, but why, Captain?”

  “Because I can’t trust their motives. There would be a serious temptation to take you, wrap you in cotton wool, set you on a shelf for a stanyer, and send you back.” I shrugged. “I’m not saying you’d sit still for that, but if it happened, you’d go back to the company, and either decide it was stupid and let it go public, sell it off piecemeal, or make some other decision based on the bad information you got from the competitor with a vested interest in bringing DST down.”

  “Aren’t you one of DST’s competitors now? Doesn’t that argument apply to you?”

  I shook my head. “Maybe but no. I don’t compete with DST. DST has a niche. Bulk cargo, local region. Yes, there are a couple of fast packets in the fleet, but I wouldn’t wonder if they weren’t there just to provide transport for your father.”

  She shrugged. “That’s not far from the truth.”

  “So, I don’t see myself as a competitor in any sense of the word, and I also have an interest in seeing to it that the next CEO is at least as savvy as the last.” I shrugged. “It’s not a fiscal interest, but more of a desire to see to it that those I left behind there are well taken care of.”

  “And you’re not going to wrap me in cotton wool, and sit me on a shelf, are you, Captain.”

  “No, Ms. Maloney. You’re going to work right alongside Ms. Arellone and me. We’re gonna haul cargo until I get a handle on passengers, and then we’ll haul them, too. It’s gonna be a scramble, and I’m probably not going to make it, but you’ll be right here with us. If what your father wanted you to learn can be learned by being a spacer, then you’ll learn it because, Ms. Maloney, as soon as you signed the Articles, you became a spacer.”

  I almost smacked myself in the head for saying that. I couldn’t even imagine how many times I’d said I wasn’t a spacer. I sighed inwardly at my own stupidity.

  “What if I buy you, Captain?”

  “Buy me, Ms. Maloney?

  “We’re going back to Diurnia in a few stans. I can arrange to give you more than enough credit to hire a replacement for me. I can hole up for a stanyer, and in the end, you just tell them I was aboard.”

  I looked at her and smiled. “You could, Ms. Maloney, but I don’t think so. You’ve got too much integrity.”

  “You don’t know that, Captain.”

  I looked at her carefully, back lit by the light from the consoles behind her, and just limned by the light from Diurnia’s primary. I saw steel there. It glinted in her eyes.

  “Maybe not, Ms. Maloney, but I don’t think you’re going to back down.”

  “Back down? From what, Captain?”

  “From the challenge, Ms. Maloney.”

  She settled back in her seat, and it was only that slight movement that made me realize she’d been leaning forward. I could see her thinking about it, and the console beeped behind her.

  She swung around and read the message. “What’s a waypoint, Captain?”

  “A bend in the road, Ms. Maloney. We’re about to make a turn to port, and start back toward Diurnia so we’ll be in position to run into the docks in the morning.”

  “What do I need to do?”

  “Mind your helm, Ms. Maloney. The autopilot on this ship should handle it nicely. It’ll swing us about to the new course, probably over shoot it, then come back on the beam. Watch your steering and let the ship handle it unless it deviates from what I just told you.”

  “Okay, sar.”

  “The correct response is ‘aye, aye,’ Ms. Maloney.”

  “Aye, aye, sar.”

  The counter ticked over, and the stars outside the ports slewed around and tilted up as we came about to the new heading. The ship overshot the course change, but a minor correction saw us on the beam within a tick.


  “Very good, Ms. Maloney.”

  “I didn’t do anything, Captain.”

  “Yes, and learning when not to act is an important lesson, Ms. Maloney.”

  She gave me a glance over her shoulder at that. I think there was a smile involved.

  “Let me turn the tables if I may, Ms. Maloney.”

  She turned back to me. “I reserve the right not to answer.” I saw her grin flash white against the dark background.

  “That’s fair, Ms. Maloney.” I paused and looked at her closely. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I have to be in order to inherit controlling interest in the company.”

  “Yes, Ms. Maloney, but why? If you take the second prize, you still wind up filthy rich, and you can do what you like.”

  She sighed. “True, Captain, but DST is mine and I want it.” She shrugged. “That sounds a little callous, but there’s been a Maloney running the company for over a century. My dear, departed, chauvinist bastard of a father thinks that it’s no career for a woman, especially not his little girl.” Her grin showed more teeth. “I’m not about to let that stand without a fight.”

  I reached out to offer my hand. “Welcome aboard, Ms. Maloney.”

  Her grip was firm, smooth, and warm.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Diurnia Orbital:

  2372-December-29

  The run back to Diurnia was smooth as glass, and we docked on the commercial side just before noon. The biggest problem was cargo. It made no sense to run anywhere empty, but the available cargoes were too big, or weren’t worth enough for us to bother with. I needed a brain storm, and it wasn’t coming, so I did the only logical thing.

  I made lunch.

  With little time before noon, I tossed together another salad, laid out a platter of cut meats and cheeses, and added a loaf of thin-sliced, crusty bread. It wasn’t a great lunch, but it got us to the table.

  As we settled in to eat, I outlined the issues, and looked around for ideas.

  “Skipper, when you were picking cargoes on the Agamemnon, Mr. Wyatt and Mr. Hill were both looking all the time, weren’t they. I know on the run into Breakall, we sat there on the mess deck by the hour just scanning and scanning.”

  I frowned. “You’re right. And I bet the smaller cargoes go faster because there are more of the Unwin and Damien Eights. So we have to be faster.”

  I turned to the chief. “Can we get the big screen mounted up there on the bulkhead this afternoon?”

  “Oh, aye, Cap. I meant to do that a’fore this, I did. Right after lunch, that’ll be next, it will.”

  “Thanks, Chief. And the door on my shower fell off? Any chance you could see to that this afternoon?”

  “Shower door, Cap? Hinges fall off the stall, did they?”

  “I think so, Chief.”

  He nodded. “Will do, Cap. Right after the screen.”

  “Right then. If you two want or need to go ashore, I’ll declare liberty until 1000 tomorrow. With any luck we’ll have a cargo by then, and if not, I’ll extend it.”

  Ms. Arellone nodded, “Thanks, Skipper. You won’t leave the ship, will you?”

  “No, Ms. Arellone. I’m tired of having my photo appear in unfortunate places.” Saying that made me think of something else. “Ms. Maloney? Do we need to deal with your security?”

  She shook her head. “No, Captain, but thank you for asking. While we’re here on Diurnia, I’ll be staying aboard as well, I think. That last photo was too close. When we get someplace where I’m not known, I should be fine. Especially if I go ashore in a shipsuit with Maitland on it.”

  “Very well, Ms. Maloney.”

  I looked around the table. “Well, let’s get this cleared up, then.” I turned to the chief. “I’ll make fresh coffee if you’ll get that screen mounted.”

  He bounced up out of his chair. “You drive a hard bargain, Cap, hard, indeed, but I like the way you work, I do.” He grinned and stumped off the mess deck.

  Lunch mess dissolved, and it pleased me to see Ms. Arellone and Ms. Maloney working together to clean up and stow the left over meats while I made the coffee. Ms. Maloney wasn’t living up to any of the unfortunate expectations I had when I first met her. I snorted to myself as I realized that Ms. Arellone hadn’t exactly turned out to be who I thought she was either. I smiled with the feeling, pleased to have been wrong on both counts. I needed to think of something nice to make for dinner since I’d have time, and I knew there would be at least two of us aboard.

  In a half-dozen ticks, the chief came back with the video screen, still in its box, and a holstered driver on his hip. He fiddled about a bit, found the power leads he wanted, mounted some brackets on the bulkhead, and applied power to the unit. Altogether he kept us amused for less than half a stan as the three of us finished putting the galley to rights.

  “Okay, Cap, there’s ya screen, although I’m still not clear on how you’re gonna use it, I’m not at all, at all.”

  I grinned, and grabbed the screen’s remote control, turning it on, and setting the input stream to the same settings we’d used at the Lagrange Point. I took a seat at the table facing the screen and placed my tablet in front of me and within half a tick, the screen on my tablet was displaying on the bulkhead.

  “Well, I’ll be switched!” The chief seemed genuinely impressed. “I’d have never guessed that banging thing would work like that, would I? No, I sure wouldn’t.”

  While he marveled, I pulled up the cargo availability list. I ran a couple of queries to show cargoes smaller than nine-hundred cubic meters and under five metric kilotons, then sorted them by delivery value. I set the tablet to refresh the query once a tick. The list filled half the screen, but nothing showed a priority tag, and could be just as easily delivered by a mixed cargo freighter.

  I looked up from my work to find the chief sipping a mug of coffee, and admiring the view on the bulkhead. He gave his head a kind of twist and said, “I gotta hand it to ya, Cap, that’s right clever, it is.”

  “Thanks, Chief. On the Agamemnon we had something like this, except it had its own dedicated console, and a wireless keyboard that we could use from the table.”

  Ms. Arellone who had alighted on one of the other chairs, nodded in agreement. “That was very slick, Captain. I loved the movie nights.”

  I smiled at her. She’d only barely gotten situated aboard before it all changed on her again. I marveled at her flexibility and resilience. I felt exhausted.

  The chief still stood there looking at the screen. “Chief? The shower in the cabin needs some of your magic.”

  “Oh, right ya are, Cap. Right ya are.” He filled his cup again and took it with him, shambling across the passage and into the cabin.

  “Captain! Cargo!” Ms. Arellone pointed to the screen, and I turned to see a ton of computer parts bound for Dree get claimed.

  My jaw dropped at the speed with which the priority cargo appeared and vanished. I was going to have to be faster if I expected to land anything worth hauling.

  The three of us sat there for nearly half a stan, and nothing else notable jumped onto the screen. At some point the chief ambled out of the cabin and refilled his mug. “Shower’s fixed, Cap. Should be a mite better now, it should.”

  “Thanks, Chief. Are we topping off on fluids?”

  “Oh, aye. We are that, yes, we are. We used so little, I’d be surprised if’n we’re not topped up now, I would.”

  “Excellent, Chief. Thanks.”

  “Welcome, Cap. Very welcome.”

  He wandered off the mess deck, and headed aft toward engineering.

  Ms. Arellone roused herself and stood. “If you’re sure you won’t need me this afternoon, Captain, I think I would like to go ashore, and stretch my legs while I can. When do we need to be back aboard?”

  “If you could be back by 1000 tomorrow, Ms. Arellone? If nothing else, I’m leaning toward snagging a couple of these low value cargoes just for the sake of getting us moving. Sitting here is
n’t making any money, and even if we don’t do much more than break even on these, it’s less expensive than sitting on shore power for another day.”

  “Makes sense, Skipper. You need anything while I’m ashore?”

  “Just more Moscow Morning, but we’d have to go get it because I don’t think he delivers.” I shook my head. “It’ll keep. We have plenty of djartmo arabasti.”

  “Okay, Skipper. I’ll let you know before I leave the ship.” She gave a little wave, and headed off the mess deck.

  “And then there were two...” Ms. Maloney muttered.

  I snickered quietly, and sat waiting, my hand on the “book” button.

  “I really want a nap,” Ms. Maloney said, “but I think I’ll wait until she’s not aboard.”

  “Problems, Ms. Maloney?”

  “Oh, no, Captain. She’s a very considerate room-mate. It’s just that she’ll be in there getting ready to go, and that doesn’t bode well for getting any sleep.”

  I nodded at that. “No doubt.”

  Half a dozen new loads flashed up on the screen. The third one from the top was two hundred tons of computer boards with a respectable bonus on it. I punched the button to book the cargo, and rapidly typed in the ship IDs for verification.

  We waited for a short eternity before it refreshed on the screen as booked, and I started to cheer before I realized that a different ship had it.

  “Drat.”

  “You didn’t get it, Captain?”

  I pointed out the notation on the screen that showed the winning bidder. “Not our code.”

  “Oh.” It was a simple rejoinder but one which carried much freight.

  While we waited I loaded the ship IDs and codes so that when I pressed the “Book” button, it would—with any luck—actually book.

  We sat there for maybe a quarter stan before Ms. Arellone came back down the passage and stuck her head into the galley. “I’m off now, Captain. Good hunting.”

  “Have fun, Ms. Arellone. Stay out of trouble. Remember that I can’t leave my ship without my bodyguard so don’t get arrested. I won’t be able to get you out.” I grinned a bit evilly, but it was in good fun.