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

by Nathan Lowell

  She speared a forkful of salad and nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate the advance notice, Captain.” She paused, the salad still hovering over the bowl. “Is he really that bad?”

  “At this point, my biggest issue is that I don’t feel like I can trust him, and with as small a crew as we have, I don’t have the time to double-check everything he says he’s done. It could be that I’m not a competent captain, and I’m not managing him correctly. I don’t rule that out. The other side of that coin is that I just don’t have the luxury of taking the time to figure out how to manage him. Fair or not, it’s my ship, and I’m rather biased about who sits in the captain’s chair.”

  “Can you find another engineer?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, scooping out a bit of the potato. “I do know that once we get back to Diurnia, I don’t dare get underway with him as engineer again. The trip back is giving me cold sweats even though I think the ship is in better shape now than when we first pulled it out of the maintenance dock for our shakedown cruise.”

  She snorted. “And doesn’t that seem like a long time ago?”

  “It does, indeed, Ms. Maloney. It does, indeed.”

  Chapter Sixty

  Greenfields Orbital:

  2373-March-7

  The chandlery promised to deliver my parts and tools first thing in the morning so I got up early to be ready to go. I found Ms. Arellone chatting with Ms. Maloney in the galley when I got there at 0600.

  “You’re looking rather spritely for somebody who’s been up most of the night, Ms. Arellone.”

  She giggled. “All night, Skipper. I’m just getting in.”

  “Ah! I didn’t hear the lock, and thought I was just very tired. Did you have fun?”

  She grinned, and waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah.”

  I poured my coffee, and arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t hurt anybody, I hope. One injury per trip, please, and Ms. Maitland here has used up our quota.”

  “Not that I know of, Captain.” She laughed. She sipped her coffee and her eyes danced back and forth between Ms. Maloney and I. “So? What did you two kids get up to last night? You had the ship to yourselves?”

  Ms. Maloney grinned at her. “We did and it was quite lovely and quiet.” She put special emphasis on the word quiet.

  Ms. Arellone stuck her tongue out with a matching grin and then asked, “So? What’d you do?”

  “The captain cooked for me.”

  Ms. Arellone made an appreciative “Oooo” sound. “Then what? Come on! Dish!”

  Ms. Maloney grinned. “Well, then we got so carried away that afterwards? You know? All warm and comfy with each other? It was magical.” She lowered her voice to a purring moan. “Before I knew what was happening I was all wet and slippery and—”

  My choking on my coffee accompanied Ms. Arellone’s shocked look.

  Ms. Maloney snickered. “Don’t get excited. I was just washing the dishes.” She grinned devilishly at both of us before flourishing her omelet pan. “Breakfast, anyone?”

  “You brat!” Ms. Arellone said with a giggle. “Here I thought our captain had finally come to his senses.”

  “Ms. Arellone, I’m always quite sensible, and you’d be well advised to keep a proper tone of respect toward my august presence.” I struck a haughty pose.

  She laughed at my posturing. “Yeah, right. Remind me in a few months, Captain. Your august presence is still in March.”

  I turned to Ms. Maloney. “Do you see what I have to put up with from my crew?” I thrust out a hand toward Ms. Arellone. “Do you see?”

  She grinned at me. “I see, revered and honored Captain. Now do you want an omelet or what?”

  “Oh, yes, please. Onions, peppers, mushrooms, a bit of ham. Do you have some bacon? And any of that sharp cheddar left?”

  She blinked at me. “I’ll need extra tools before I can throw in the kitchen sink, there, Captain.” Then she laughed. “Coming right up, sar.” She turned to Ms. Arellone. “What about you, bunkie? What’s your pleasure?”

  “Just a little cheese on mine, please. I need to get some sleep soon. I can feel it catching up with me.” She looked at me over her coffee cup. “You won’t need me for a couple of stans, will you, Skipper?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’ve got stuff to do today. You get some sleep. Perhaps we’ll go out to dinner tonight?”

  Ms. Maloney shrugged her agreement, and Ms. Arellone yawned. “Sounds good, Captain.”

  After breakfast, I went back to my cabin and checked on the status of the tanks. They would top off with a couple of stans to spare. I shuddered at what the bill would be, but it couldn’t be helped, and it was really no more than the total would have been if we had filled them as we went along.

  I took the opportunity to document all that I had discovered in the captain’s log. If push came to shove later, I wanted to have a record of all of it, and not have to rely on memory. As I wrapped up the log, the klaxon on the lock sounded. I smiled in satisfaction when the sound didn’t lift me half out of my skin for a change.

  The chrono read 0745. I hoped it was the chandlery delivery crew getting a jump on their work day, and not something like orbital security. I peeked out the port in the lock, and saw a couple of people standing on the dock. They looked chilly. She wore a nice suit, while he was dressed like a repairman in an unmarked jumpsuit, and carrying something in his hand that I couldn’t identify.

  I keyed the lock open, and stepped out to meet them.

  The woman stepped up immediately and offered her hand. “Hello, I’m Jessica Granby. Are you Captain Ishmael Wang?”

  Behind her the man had stepped back, and brought the device up to his face. I saw he held a portable video unit.

  “I am. How can I help you, Ms. Granby?”

  “Is it your habit to beat up defenseless passengers, and leave them bleeding on the docks, Captain?”

  “It’s not my habit to leave anybody bleeding on the docks, Ms. Granby. May I ask what this is about?”

  She smirked. “I take it you haven’t seen the news, Captain?”

  “No, I haven’t. If it wouldn’t interfere too much with your ambush, perhaps you’d care to enlighten me?”

  “Do you deny that a member of your crew beat up a passenger while in transit from Diurnia?”

  “I think you need to check your facts, Ms. Granby. There is a report on file with Orbital security.”

  “That report indicates that medical personnel took one of your passengers from your vessel on a stretcher, Captain. What do you say to that?”

  “One of our passengers required medical assistance on docking. Orbital medical personnel transported him from this vessel on a stretcher. I believe that’s all in the report, Ms. Granby.”

  “Do you have any comment on why your passenger required medical assistance, Captain?”

  “You’ll need to take that up with the passenger, Ms. Granby. It’s not my practice to discuss my passengers.”

  “We did, Captain, and he claims he was beaten and left bleeding on the docks. Do you have any comment?”

  “It seems to me you can’t have it both ways, Ms. Granby.”

  “Captain?” She seemed puzzled.

  “Either he was taken off the ship by medical personnel as you have indicated, and which I don’t deny, or he was left bleeding on the docks. Those two statements are contradictory. They cannot both be true at the same time.”

  She shook her head. “But how do you respond to the charges that one of your passengers was beaten?”

  “By asking who is making these charges and on the basis of what information are the charges being leveled, Ms. Granby.”

  Behind her, the chandlery crew arrived with my parts order on a grav pallet.

  “One of your passengers claims that he was beaten up by a member of your crew, Captain.”

  “If this is the same passenger who claims to have been left bleeding on the docks, Ms. Granby, then you might do a bit of a credibility che
ck on the passenger. Now, if you’d clear my lock? You’re interfering with the operation of a commercial vessel.”

  “Oh, come now, Captain!” Ms. Granby chided me broadly. “Are you so afraid of answering these charges that you’ll hide behind that flimsy excuse?”

  “Ms. Granby? You are on my ship.” I nodded to where she stood on the ramp. “You are interfering with the delivery of required spare parts.” I nodded to the chandlery crew behind her. “You have no legitimate interest on my vessel, and I have asked you to leave. You are interfering with the operation of a commercial vessel.”

  Behind her the crew chief grimaced, and pulled out his comm, speaking into it briefly.

  “Captain Wang. I’m here representing the public. We have a right to know the facts of this case.”

  “The facts are on file with Orbital security, Ms. Granby. I suggest that you seek them there.”

  “I want to hear them from you, Captain.”

  “Please leave my vessel, Ms. Granby.”

  “Are you refusing to answer my questions, Captain?”

  “Please leave my vessel, Ms. Granby.”

  A pair from Orbital security joined the grinning chandlery crew, and conferred briefly with the crew chief.

  “Captain, you have a responsibility to the public to answer these charges.” She all but stamped her foot. “Did one of your crew beat a passenger?”

  “Ms. Granby, this is my third and final request. Please leave my vessel. You are interfering with the operation of a commercial vessel.”

  “Or what, Captain?” she pounced with a smirk. “Will you have one of your crew come out here and beat me up?”

  The clicking of handcuffs from behind her finally got her attention. She turned and found her camera man in custody and a second officer standing behind her.

  “I believe, Ms. Granby,” he said, “that violence will not be necessary if you’ll come along quietly.”

  She whirled on me. “You called security?”

  I shook my head. “No, Ms. Granby. They did.” I nodded at the chandlery crew.

  “Come along, Ms. Granby.”

  “Officer, I’m on legitimate business here. You have no right.”

  In one smooth movement he cuffed her, and started leading her down the ramp. “Watch your step, Ms. Granby. We don’t want any unfortunate injuries here.”

  As he cleared he ramp he stopped and turned to me as the chandlery crew horsed the grav pallets of spares aboard. “Will you be pressing charges, Captain?”

  The crew chief answered before I could respond. “I will be.” He smirked at the reporter. “Hello, Jess. Still raking muck?” He nodded to the officer. “I’ll be along to the station to fill out the paperwork as soon as we get done here, Officer.”

  He shrugged and nodded to his partner. They led the hapless pair away while we went into the ship and checked the shipment aboard, stacking it on the deck just outside of engineering stores.

  I thumbed the receipt when it cleared and offered a hand. “Thanks. She was beginning to irritate me.”

  “I know the feeling,” he said with a wink. “Safe voyage, Captain.” With that he gathered his crew, and headed back off the ship.

  I sealed the lock behind him, and turned to find Ms. Maloney halfway down the ladder. “Captain? We have a problem.” She met me at the bottom of the ladder, and held out her tablet.

  “More pictures?”

  She nodded at the screen.

  The image had a diagonal split with Ms. Maloney in the upper-left half and Mr. Dubois in the bottom-right. Ms. Maloney stood in the galley, looking back over her shoulder, her expression an ambiguous frown. Mr. Dubois lay insensible in the ship’s autodoc. The headline emblazoned across the top read “Rough Trade.”

  “Well, that’s torn it.”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Greenfields Orbital:

  2373-March-9

  By the morning of our departure, three more reporters had paid us a visit. The attention didn’t work entirely against us. We also picked up a few extra cubes of cargo, and two more passengers, largely based on the extra attention the ship got.

  Over the course of our stay, I managed to get our engineering spares situation under control, and worked through the rest of the items on the repair list. It was funny how empowered I felt by my new tool box. Having some screwdrivers, a couple of wrenches, and the odd pair of pliers made all the difference when dealing with simple things like replacing light panels and broken switches.

  I also took the opportunity to get the scrubber filters on schedule, marking half with an X on the base and leaving the others unmarked. The atmospheric mix aboard was clean so I left myself a calendar note to swap out the X’ed ones just after jump.

  Chief Bailey stayed in his compartment, as nearly as I could tell. I saw him only rarely in the galley, or when Ms. Maloney wanted to go ashore.

  On top of it all, we were no further ahead in figuring out who had taken the pictures aboard the ship and given—or, more likely, sold—them to the newsies. In spite of that, after two days of puttering about, I felt a lot more confident in the ship. It would be in good shape when the ninety-day note expired.

  Mr. Herring made it back aboard without mishap, and we briefed him on dealing with the newsies before allowing him to go ashore again. Without the financial support of new friends, he soon ran out of money, and spent the last day in port helping Ms. Maloney get the compartments ready for guests.

  Cargo came aboard at 0900, and the first of our passengers showed up just as the handlers left the lock.

  Mr. J. Everett Tharpe waited politely for the last of the handlers to clear the ramp before sliding up with two grav trunks, expertly maneuvering them up the ramp with greater aplomb that I could have managed. A man about my age, tanned and healthy looking, he dressed casually in a brown leather jacket, button down shirt in pale blue, and a pair of jeans. “Captain Wang?” He held out his hand with an easy smile. “Everett Tharpe. I believe you’re expecting me?”

  I shook the offered hand and nodded. “Mr. Tharpe. Welcome aboard. I didn’t expect you for another stan or so, but welcome.”

  I keyed the big lock closed, and cut off the cold air wafting in from the docks.

  “Thank you, Captain. Do you have room for this trunk in cargo? It’s my sample case and I don’t really need it until we get into Diurnia.” He pointed to one of his grav trunks.

  “Of course, Mr. Tharpe.” I indicated an open corner of the hold. “If you’d lock it down right there? It’ll be safe enough until we get in.”

  I directed him to stand on the lift, and used the hydraulics to raise him up to the first deck. Ms. Maloney waited for him there. She waved down to me as she greeted him, and escorted him back to his compartment.

  A blat from the lock klaxon called me back to duty, and I looked out to see a woman who might be thirty, and a girl who looked about fifteen. They had one grav trunk, and looked at the lock expectantly, but they didn’t look like Sam and Muriel Lockhart. With an internal shrug, I opened the lock and stepped out onto the ramp. “Hello. I’m Captain Wang. Can I help you?”

  The woman smiled tentatively when she spoke. “I’m Muriel? Muriel Lockhard? You have a reservation for us?”

  I looked at the girl. “Sam?”

  “Yeah, Sam. Is that a problem?” The girl scowled at me.

  Muriel interceded, “My daughter. We’re on our way to Diurnia?”

  “Come right in, folks. Ms. Maitland has your compartment ready, I believe.”

  I led them into the ship, and sealed the lock behind them. We maneuvered their grav trunk up the ladder without difficulty. Looking down the passage, I saw Ms. Maloney had just finished settling Mr. Tharpe, and I stepped aside for her to see our newest passengers.

  “Ms. Maitland is our steward. She’ll help you get settled.” I explained to the pair. “Ms. Maitland, this is Muriel Lockhart and her daughter, Sam.”

  Ms. Maitland smiled charmi
ngly and shook hands with each of them. “Welcome aboard, ladies. If you’d follow me, we have a choice for you to make...” She led them smoothly away, and soon had them settled in the over-and-under bunks. Judging from the pleased noises coming from that end of the passageway, both mother and daughter found the accommodations quite satisfactory.

  I was about to head into the cabin when the klaxon sounded again. Ms. Arellone stood in the galley door and asked, “Are you expecting anybody else, Captain?”

  I shook my head. “No, Ms. Arellone.”

  “Okay, Skipper. I’ll get it.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Arellone.”

  “No problem, Skipper.” She trotted down the ladder, and I went into my cabin.

  I had just settled at the console when she was back at the door. “Skipper? You’re going to want to come out here.” Something in her face caught my attention immediately.

  I stepped out, and found an impeccably dressed woman in her middle fifties standing at the top of the ladder, grav trunk in tow, and one hand pressed dramatically to the top of an impressive bosom as she worked to catch her breath .“Captain? You’re Captain Wang?”

  “I am, ma’am. How can I help you?”

  “Passage? Do you have room for one more, Captain? Please say you do!” Her words came out in a rush, each one tumbling on the heels of the last, and I understood why she might be breathless. Just listening was exhausting.

  “We’re bound for Diurnia, ma’am, and there’s one berth left—”

  “I’ll take it!” She reached out and placed her hand on my forearm. “Please, Captain. I must have it.”

  “Okay, sure, Ms...”

  “Barbara Hawkshaw, Captain. Thank you so much. You have no idea what a life saver you are.”

  I walked her through the paperwork, and booked her fare, by which time Ms. Maloney had returned. “Last guest, Ms. Maitland,” I said.

  She smiled and welcomed Ms. Hawkshaw aboard, leading her down the passage to the one remaining compartment.

  Ms. Arellone watched the process with a slightly amused smile on her face. “What do you suppose is so important, sar?” she asked, keeping her voice low.