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

by Nathan Lowell

  Ms. Maloney looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and nodded at the man.

  “Well, as it happens we have a shipment going to Ten Volt. It’s supposed to be loaded tomorrow, and we’re pulling out the day after,” I said.

  His eyes widened, and he smiled hopefully looking from Ms. Maloney to me and back.

  “If it’s a question of money, Captain...?”

  I shook my head. “My problem is that I don’t have the correct license to carry passengers. I should have it tomorrow, and then we can talk about giving you a ride.”

  Ms. Maloney grinned at him. “You’ll be our very first passenger, Andy. How do you feel about being a guinea pig?”

  He laughed. “I’ll be your door mat, if it’ll get me to Ten Volt by the first.” He looked back at me. “When will you know, Captain?”

  I shrugged. “I should know by noon tomorrow, and we can figure out what’s what after that.”

  “Perfect!” he exclaimed. “I’ve got a room up at Orbit House. You can find me there and let me know?”

  Both Ms. Maloney and I nodded.

  “Excellent. Thank you!” He reached out to shake my hand.

  I returned the honor but warned him. “Don’t thank me yet. I still have to work through the red tape.”

  “I understand red tape, Captain, trust me on that.”

  Both he and Ms. Maloney snickered a little, and I suspected a story lay behind the laugh.

  We finished our coffee, and headed for the lift.

  “I’ll contact you at Orbit House when we have more information, Andy.” We stopped and she smiled warmly. “It’s great seeing you again.” She gave him a hug which he returned with gusto.

  The lift pinged for “up” and he stepped into the car. “Tomorrow!” he said by way of farewell, and the doors closed behind him.

  While we waited for the next car, Ms. Maloney turned to me. “What do you think, Captain?”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, unless I miss my guess, our cargo is his gear.”

  She nodded in agreement.

  “He seems a nice enough guy that, if we’re not exactly the Ben Franklin, he’ll be willing to overlook it.”

  “Not to mention desperate,” she added.

  A short laugh barked out of me. “There’s that.”

  The lift opened, and we got on, pressing the button for the docks.

  “All I have to do now is pass the test,” I muttered.

  “We got faith in ya, Skipper,” Ms. Arellone offered.

  Ms. Maloney murmured, “Trust Iris.”

  The doors closed, and we headed back to the ship.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Welliver Orbital:

  2373-January-13

  Ms. Arellone escorted me to the CPJCT offices after the breakfast mess where I presented myself for an examination for Small Craft Steward Endorsement. If the functionary behind the counter thought anything about my traveling with an able spacer, she didn’t say anything about it or even seem to notice.

  She took my name and license number, had me pay the endorsement exam fee, and, after checking her records, escorted me to a booth where Ms. Arellone stood outside while I took a seat in front of the machine.

  The functionary made sure I understood how to use the equipment, and left me with, “Take all the time you need, Captain. It’s not a timed exam.”

  I dug in and lost myself in the wonders of food preparation, passenger liability, rights and responsibilities of officers operating in deep space, and myriad details of equal import. After a while, I realized I’d come to the end of the questions and, bypassing the opportunity to check my answers, filed the exam. A quick glance at the chrono explained why my back and legs ached. I stood from the chair, and shook out the stiffness.

  In a moment, a different functionary opened the door, and led me back to the counter. Ms. Arellone looked a little worse for the wear of standing outside the door for the better part of four stans, but she followed along.

  At the counter, the functionary checked my results, nodded in satisfaction, charged me the actual endorsement fee—a signal that I had passed—and turned to look at me.

  “Congratulations, Captain. Once you receive the endorsement on your record, you can legally transport passengers, not to exceed ten on any single trip, anywhere in the Western Annex.”

  Ms. Arellone smiled happily, but something in his tone made me wait before celebrating.

  “We will transmit the endorsement to you electronically within the next seven to ten working days and will forward a physical representation to your next port of call. Which will be...?” He paused, hands on keys, looking expectantly at me.

  “How soon?”

  “Within the next three weeks, Captain, but the endorsement will be on your record in about half that time. What is your next port of call, and when will you be there?”

  “Ten Volt. We should be there by the first of February.”

  He typed and nodded. “Yes, Captain, it should be waiting for you there, and if it’s not, just see the office on Ten Volt. They’ll be able to take care of it.”

  “So, if I’m interpreting what you’re saying, Mr. ...” I paused to look at his badge, “Crookshank? I need to wait until I get to Ten Volt before I can legally carry passengers?”

  “Correct, Captain.” The man was matter-of-fact and unapologetic. “Until the endorsement has been placed on your record, you are not licensed for the transportation of passengers on your vessel.”

  “And that will take seven to ten days?”

  “Seven to ten working days, Captain. Call it two weeks for round figuring.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Crookshank.”

  “You’re welcome, Captain Wang.”

  I turned to Ms. Arellone. “Home, Jane.”

  She frowned at me. “I’m not Jane, sar.”

  “Figure of speech from a time long gone, Ms. Arellone. Let’s back to the ship.”

  “Oh, of course, Skipper. Why didn’t you say that to begin with?”

  I shook my head and sighed as I followed her out of the office, and we headed for the lift.

  Ms. Maloney met us at the top of the ladder with an expectant expression on her face. She saw mine and immediately sighed. “Welcome back, Captain. The chief and I were just sitting down to lunch.” She turned, and led the way back into the galley. A pot of vegetable soup warmed on the burner, and a couple of boules of crusty bread lay on a cutting board in the middle of the table.

  Ms. Arellone and I helped ourselves to the soup, and I admired the textures and colors that swam in the redolent broth. I sat down with the hot soup, and Ms. Maloney carved a chunk of the fresh crusty bread for each of us. The soup was delicious, and the bread had a texture and nutty flavor that was both delectable and chewy. The earthy flavors of the broth and vegetables perfectly complemented the rich, yeasty bread.

  I realized with a start that I was halfway through the bowl, and hadn’t said a word since I’d started. I forced my spoon down and looked up, somewhat embarrassed, only to find everyone, except Ms. Maloney, elbow deep in lunch, and as engaged with it as I had been. Ms. Maloney sipped a bit of broth from her bowl, and smiled.

  “You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel, Ms. Maloney. This is spectacular.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Adequate to the need, I believe.”

  Ms. Arellone emerged from her ingestion with a shocked, “Adequate? This is amazing!”

  Ms. Maloney grinned back and said a laughing, “Thank you.”

  The chief looked up briefly, brandished his spoon once, and then dug in again. I couldn’t say I blamed him.

  “Pardon me for maybe being too nosy, Ms. Maloney, but where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “L’Institute des Arts Culinaires de Souci, Captain.” She shrugged it off. “My mother insisted that I go to a college after St. Vrain Academy for Ladies so I picked one as far away as I could get.”

  I struggled with my astronomical geography but couldn�
�t find it in my memory. “Souci is... where, Ms. Maloney?”

  “It’s the secondary confederation port in the Impromptu sector, Captain.”

  When I pictured the Western Annex, I realized that she was talking about a sector diagonally opposite from Diurnia. “Yes, Ms. Maloney. Any further and you’d have almost had to be in the Core Worlds.”

  She gave a cheerful grin. “Yes, sar. I tried there, but Father balked at the transportation costs.”

  “Well, I’m embarrassed to have been cooking for you, Ms. Maloney. This is ...” I was at a loss for words. “...spectacular.”

  She shrugged. “Actually, I was impressed, Captain. You make a mean cup of coffee, and you set a nice table. There’s a lot to be said for good simple fare that’s made well, and we’ve had time pressures since the day we came aboard, sar.”

  The irony of it was not lost on me, and I savored it for a moment. I was the captain of the vessel, the lowest ranking member of my crew had complemented my cooking—of all things—and I was inordinately pleased with myself.

  “Thank you, Ms. Maloney.”

  We ate for a few ticks before Ms. Maloney broke the silence.

  “What shall we tell Andrew, Captain?”

  I frowned. “That’s a problem. I passed the test but I’m not licensed to carry passengers until they finish tying a bow in the red tape. I suspect they’ve got to file it at the Confederation seat at Diurnia, but who knows. Bottom line is it’ll be two weeks before I can legally transport a passenger.”

  “We’ll be at Ten Volt by then, won’t we, Captain?”

  “That was my plan, Ms. Maloney,” I said with a sigh.

  “So, what do we tell him, sar?”

  I weighed the options and arched an eyebrow in her direction. “He’s a friend of yours? From E and D?”

  She seemed startled. “Yes, Captain. How did you guess?”

  “He knows you from way back, is about your age, and his specialty is seismic mapping. It seemed obvious.”

  She chuckled. “Okay, yes, we were on assignment together.”

  “Can you contact him? Ask him to come meet you here?”

  She seemed a bit confused, but nodded assent. “I don’t know why not, but to what end?”

  I smiled. “I want to see how badly he wants to get to Ten Volt.”

  Ms. Arellone frowned in consternation, but Ms. Maloney’s look was more speculative. “All right, Captain. What time?”

  “Cargo says they’ll have his shipment here around 1500. Why don’t you ask him to help supervise the loading?”

  She shrugged and pulled out her tablet. “That sounds plausible, Captain,” she murmured, and keyed the message with a bemused smile on her face. “Sent, sar.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Maloney. Did you get the screens set up in the passenger compartments this morning, Chief?”

  He looked up, startled. “No, Cap, I surely didn’t. You didn’t say anything, did ya? No, sorry. I didn’t. I can do that right after lunch if you like, Cap. I can.”

  “Please do that, Chief, and when you’re done with that, I’ve got a new repeater to go in here. I’m not happy with using my tablet. Running a dedicated one here will be better. You’ll find the unit in the corner there, bulkhead mount, and a wireless keyboard.”

  He craned his head around on his neck to look, and nodded. “Aye, aye, Cap. Not a problem. Not at all.”

  “I also got an upgraded communications subsystem board for the main cabinet. I’ll be changing that out this afternoon.” I looked around the table. “The tablets may be offline for a short time until I get the board in and configured.”

  Everybody nodded.

  My spoon scraped empty bowl, and I looked down surprised and saddened. “Well, that was delicious, Ms. Maloney. Thank you for sharing your skills with us, and for taking the initiative.”

  She murmured something polite, and I turned to Ms. Arellone.

  “Well, Ms. Arellone, she made it, I suppose the least we can do is clean it up.”

  She nodded, and gave a jaunty, “Aye, aye, Captain.” We all stood, and started for our chores. The chief filled his mug and headed aft while Ms. Arellone and I made very short work of the luncheon cleanup. While Ms. Maloney helped by taking care of the leftover food, and sweeping the floor.

  When we finished, I turned to her. “Ms. Arellone, you spent a very long morning on your feet. Please feel free to take the afternoon off.” Before she could ask, I said, “I’ll stay aboard until you come back.”

  She grinned. “Thank you, Captain. I’m not going anywhere, but a bit of a lie down after lunch sounds good to me.”

  I looked at the chrono. “You can probably get a couple of stans in before things get too noisy with the cargo loading.”

  “Thank you, Skipper. I’ll go do that.” She ambled aft leaving Ms. Maloney and me in the galley.

  “Captain? What are you going to tell, Andrew?” Ms. Maloney asked with a curious frown.

  “I’m not sure, Ms. Maloney, but the bigger problem is what do we do with another crewman?”

  “Another crewman, sar?”

  I grabbed a fresh mug of coffee, and sat at the table. “Yes, Ms. Maloney. I need another bridge watch. I can probably find somebody on the dock to take your place, but where do we put him or her?”

  She looked concerned. “Where am I going, Captain?”

  “I’m transferring you to steward division, Ms. Maloney, if you want to go.”

  “Captain?”

  “You really only need to keep a job on the ship, correct, Ms. Maloney?”

  “The codicil says, ‘...will obtain a quarter share berth on any class solar clipper with the proviso that the ship not be owned in whole or in part by DST or any member of the board, employee of the company, or family member...’” she rattled off the language and I had no doubt that it was verbatim. “The other pertinent clause has to do with staying with the ship for a stanyer, Captain.”

  “Do you know that one by heart, too, Ms. Maloney?”

  She gave a bitter snicker and recited, “If my daughter completes one standard year of satisfactory service aboard said vessel, I will bequeath my complete majority holding in Diurnia Salvage and Transport to her without reservation or further direction.”

  “You’ve done the first step, Ms. Maloney. You obtained a quarter share berth on a ship that has no direct ties with DST. Kirsten Kingsley and Roni Dalmati made sure that this vessel above reproach on that score.”

  Her face took on a thoughtful frown.

  “All you need to do now is complete a stanyer of satisfactory service. By my count that’s fifty more weeks, plus or minus a day or two. What job you do aboard is irrelevant, so long as you do it. Your father was a freight man. So am I. I have never run a ship with passengers, only crew and cargo.” A sudden thought occurred to me. “Did he know you went to L’Institute des Arts Culinaires?”

  “I presume so, Captain. He paid the bills, and he complained occasionally about the useless frippery.”

  “Frippery?” I asked. “He used that word? Frippery?”

  She smiled an apology. “His vocabulary could be rather eccentric at times, Captain.”

  “So, he knew you are a chef, but I bet he never considered how valuable that would be aboard a freighter. Or more precisely, I bet he considered that it was a largely wasted skill.”

  She nodded. “That seems like Father.”

  I took a deep breath, and blew it out, then took a pull off my coffee mug while I organized my thoughts.

  “Okay, Ms. Maloney. First, do you like being a chef? Is cooking something you enjoy?”

  She seemed surprised by the question. “Of course, Captain. At one point, I considered opening my own restaurant, but I never found the right place and time.” She snorted a gentle laugh. “You know, when I went to the institute, I picked it because it was at the other edge of the universe from my mother. Not because I was particularly interested in it or anything. I went because it was far away, and I could be a person rathe
r than a trophy.”

  “I didn’t have to move away from my mother, and we actually got along pretty well, but I can see how your experience would be considerably different.”

  She grinned. “Undoubtedly. Anyway, once I got there, and got into the world of food—taste, texture, technique, all of it fascinated me. I threw myself into it. It was heaven. Nobody knew me. I didn’t even have a bodyguard there. Nobody had one. I did pretty well there, but I was in school with people who were third or fourth generation chefs. They grew up with it, living it, breathing it—listerally eating it.” She shook her head. “I did pretty well, but I couldn’t match the best of them. I did well enough to graduate near the middle of the class, but not well enough to get a job that could move me up the ladder.” She shrugged, and let her story end there.

  “Thanks, Ms. Maloney. That helps me with the next part.”

  “Which is?”

  “If we’re going to bring passengers aboard, we need a cook. More precisely a host, somebody to watch out for them, take care of them. The key thing is cooking. We were a bit haphazard on the way out here because with the watch-standing and all, getting meals lined up, and executed fell too low on my priority list.”

  “I thought we did pretty well, Captain. We got fed and ate well.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Maloney but I think we need a bit more rigor if we’re going to take paying passengers.”

  She gave a kind of sideways bob of her head. “I can see that.”

  “What I’m angling for here, Ms. Maloney, is to make a trip on the Iris more than something to be endured. I want our passengers to leave the ship refreshed from the trip. Rested and relaxed and ready to go when they get there.”

  She snorted. “That would be a treat. Between the cramped spaces, the long voyages, and the food...” She blinked as she realized what she had said.

  “Exactly. I haven’t done a lot of travel by fast packet, but it seems to me that we may have found a niche we can take advantage of.”