By Darkness Forged (Seeker's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper Book 3)

by Nathan Lowell

  I sat back in my seat. “So you’re proposing that the ship set off on a course for Margary for its grand debut, sailed out to the Burleson limit, fired up the drive and it just choked out.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Over the next few stanyers, they used their kickers to push the ship into an orbit around Telluride to keep it from wandering off into the Dark,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “Properly equipped local ships could have serviced it using a combination of kickers and sails. If they knew where it was, a tanker could have jumped to it from outside to get the proper vector and kept it supplied with fuel.”

  “So, if they succeeded, the ship is still out there, crawling along at a few meters a stanyer?” I asked.

  “Exactly,” Pip said.

  “What’s it doing out there now?”

  “That’s my question as well.” The chief walked into the cabin and took the chair next to Pip. “Brilliant work, Pip.”

  “You knew it was out there, then?” Pip asked, looking at the chief.

  “I had strong suspicions. I couldn’t figure out how to find it. Like everybody else, I assumed that it jumped and the drive failed somewhere in the Dark,” she said.

  “But you had reason to believe it wasn’t destroyed,” I said.

  She nodded. “Nothing solid. No string to pull on, but a lot of circumstantial details. Enough to bring us to Telluride originally. Since then, I’ve gotten a handful of data points. The crewmen we supposed had been lost with the ship have been turning up in various locations in the Telluride system. We started looking and found payroll records for almost all of them running through last month. There’s a suspicious absence of officer records, but the crew roster is complete.”

  “Where are the officers?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Easy enough to make them disappear. New identities, new ships, cushy jobs. Buying them off is ultimately cheaper than killing them off. Fewer explanations required should it all go pear-shaped.”

  “What do we do if we find it?” I asked.

  Pip and the chief shared a look.

  “Depends on what we find, I guess,” the chief said.

  Pip nodded. “Yeah. Empty ship? Yay. Salvage. I don’t know how we deal with it but it should be worth something, if only for the scrap metal.”

  “The technology should be worth a lot,” the chief said. “I suspect the consortium that built it would pay to keep it quiet, if nothing else.”

  “You mean Manchester?” I asked.

  “Manchester, Pravda, Mellon-Merc.” The chief ticked them off on her fingers. “They’ll all have some piece of that.”

  I considered her point for almost a tick. “Why do you want to find it?”

  “I’m just closing a loop,” she said.

  “Uh huh,” I said. “I think we need to bring Al and Mr. Reed into this conversation. If the Chernyakova actually did service the mega, there should be a record of it. If anybody can find it, they can.”

  “Wouldn’t we have found it already?” Pip asked.

  “Nope,” I said. “We’ve been looking for the wrong thing.”

  Chapter 14

  Telluride System: 2376, February 10

  I couldn’t help having a little trepidation about jumping into Telluride. After the last visit, I kept thinking there might be some residual animosity. “How’s it look, Mr. Reed?”

  “We’re right on the mark, Captain.”

  “Ms. Ross?” I asked.

  “Calibration shows us in Telluride. Give it a few ticks and we’ll have some decent scans. There’s nobody near us at the moment.”

  I settled into the captain’s chair, dividing my attention between the brilliant pinpoint ahead of us that was the system primary and the repeater screen showing the short-range scan expanding outward.

  “Telemetry link with the comms buoy,” Mr. Reed said. “We have a data packet for transfer.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Reed,” Al said.

  “Any trade data in the stream?” I asked.

  Mr. Reed pulled a couple of windows up and nodded. “Routine-looking trades. I’m seeing cans, large and small. Some twelve-meter containers. Even a couple of tanker loads.”

  “Route to cargo, please?”

  “Already done, Skipper.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Reed.”

  “Skipper?” Al said, pointing to the short range.

  “What you got?”

  “That ship is holding station just inside the outer belt.” She looked at the screen again, then back at me. “It’s got no designator and it’s about our size.”

  “That’s the guardian,” the chief said. “Ignore it. Pretend it’s not there. Just don’t run into it.”

  “The guardian? Is that its name?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “The ship assigned to make sure the powers that be here don’t do anything rash.”

  “All right, then,” I said. “Mr. Reed, make sure we give this ship that’s not there plenty of room.”

  “Plenty of room, aye, Captain.”

  We docked at Telluride just before the dinner mess on the twentieth. We were a lot farther into the gravity well than I liked, given our history. We’d be another two weeks digging ourselves out. In truth, I recognized that the paranoia causing my anxiety had no basis. Neither traffic control nor the station personnel gave me any cause to suspect some nefarious counteraction against us.

  I met the station security at the lock.

  “Welcome to Telluride, Captain.” The official could have come from any of the stations we’d visited in the Toe-Holds—carrying a tablet and wearing a tired, liveried jumpsuit and a bored expression. “Purpose of visit?”

  “Trading cans,” I said.

  She ticked off a form. “Length of stay?”

  “Probably four standard days.”

  She ticked off another form.

  “Number of crew?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  She entered the number and turned the tablet toward me. “Thank you, Captain. Limited visa for four standard days. You can extend it at any time by notifying our office. Please instruct your crew to observe the red lines. Don’t cross them unless escorted by a resident. Thumb here.”

  I did as instructed.

  She looked at the screen, nodded. “I’ll send a copy to the ship. Welcome to Telluride.”

  “Thank you, officer. Have a good day.”

  She snorted, turning away to stroll on down the docking gallery.

  “Not exactly the welcoming sort, eh, Captain?” I turned to find the chief standing on the lock ramp.

  I shrugged. “Felt a little odd. There can’t have been that many ships docking here over the last decade or so. She seemed like it’s a job she’s been bored with for far longer than a decade. I’d have thought she’d have exhibited a little more excitement to have new faces show up.”

  “Maybe she’s just jaded. She knows you’re just here to take advantage of the trade situation and won’t be staying around.”

  I shrugged. “Possible. Whatever the reason, we’re here.” I walked back into the ship and found Al waiting by the brow. “You heard the red line restriction?”

  “Yeah. A bit more restrictive than I would have thought,” she said. “Their station. Their rules.”

  “Go ahead and declare liberty for the top of the hour. Make sure they know the visa restriction,” I said.

  She nodded and proceeded to make the announcement while I climbed up to the cabin. Pip waited for me there.

  “Don’t you have a stateroom of your own?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, but I know I can find you here pretty much any time I want to talk to you.”

  I settled across from him. “What’s up?”

  “Wanna hit a pub tonight?”

  I shrugged. “Something interesting?”

  “Local brews. Jazz trio. Thought maybe we could collar Al and the chief, maybe Kim?”

  “I like that. Give me a chance to sound her out about
her second-mate ticket.”

  He nodded. “You’re thinking of moving her up?”

  “Well, I can’t unless Reed moves. I don’t think he’s going to, and the chief claims to have a candidate so I’m not supposed to really hire anyone.”

  “Did you look?” he asked.

  “I got a little distracted by the galley overhaul.”

  “So why talk to Fortuner about her ticket?”

  “Because she can’t stay third mate forever,” I said.

  Pip grimaced and looked off to the side. “That’s a problem, you know.”

  “What? That she has to move up?”

  He looked back at me, shaking his head. “That you think you know what’s right for everybody. Of course they have to be working on their next rating, their next position. It’s what everybody does, right? That’s what you did, so everybody has to? Whether they want to or not, move up or move on?”

  His words drove me back in my chair. I just sat there, stunned, unable to speak. I finally said, “That’s how you see it?”

  He shrugged and looked away again. “That’s what it looks like from where I’m sitting.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. My fundamental perspective said that I should encourage my crews to skill up, to move along the career ladder. The idea of “whether they wanted to or not” never occurred to me. The notion that he had me dead to rights did not sit well. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Thanks?” he asked, staring at me. “Are you being sarcastic or something?”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s a perspective I never even considered. I should have.”

  “Well, you know my opinion on it now,” he said. “So? Dinner?”

  “Tom has the duty?”

  Pip nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

  “Al, the chief, Kim, you, me?”

  “If they all want to come with, sure.”

  “You don’t have any ulterior motive or anything?” I asked.

  “Well, I didn’t have any ulterior motive back at Mel’s. It just blindsided us when the doorman crashed Uncle Q’s party.” He shrugged.

  “Granted. Fine. Let’s do it.” I keyed an invite to the other officers and tapped the send key. “How are we looking for cargo?”

  “Locals say they’ll collect the can within the next twenty-four stans. Probably first thing in the morning, station time. I found a lot of outgoing cargo but cans heading toward Margary are a bit sparse.”

  “I suspect anything going anywhere in Dunsany Roads would be close enough,” I said.

  He nodded. “It would. Everything I’ve seen come by since we jumped in has been going to Dark Knight or Mel’s. Not exactly in the right direction.”

  “Let’s get together with Tom before we head out. See what he came up with for a likely location for the mega.”

  Chapter 15

  Telluride Station: 2376, February 20

  I changed into my civvies around 1800 and wondered, not for the first time, if I’d done the right thing with the outfit. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but looking down at the burgundy fabric—well—the patterned fabric seemed more like upholstery than clothing. I felt a little like a sofa. Was I furniture taking up space in the cabin? Inherently useful but only when people needed someplace to sit?

  I found the thought disconcerting.

  Coupled with Pip’s observations earlier in the day, I wasn’t in the best of spirits when I found Mr. Reed at the officers’ table on the mess deck.

  “Going ashore or coming back?” he asked.

  “Going. Al, the chief, Pip, and Kim are all going. Pip found a jazz club that serves dinner.”

  “Sounds like fun. Lemme know if it’s any good.”

  “Will do. What’s your favorite cuisine?” I asked.

  “I’m partial to food,” he said. “I don’t really care what kind as long as it’s tasty and plentiful.” He grinned at me around his coffee cup.

  “Have you found any place that looks likely in terms of the mega?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got a couple of possible candidates but I want to spend a little quality time with the database to see if there are any better ones tucked away in obscurity. My hunch is that a hidden landing zone isn’t going to be labeled ‘X marks the spot,’ if you know what I mean.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. Probably not. Anything I can do to help?”

  He shook his head. “Space and time. Two things you’d think we’d have plenty of but we always seem to run out.” He glanced at the galley. “That was inspired, by the way.”

  “What? The galley?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t even know she had a problem with it.”

  “I didn’t either until she showed me the steam kettle.”

  “Serendipity still counts, Skipper.”

  “It does that.” I stood. “Holler if you need us, but I don’t expect we’ll be out late.”

  “Will do, Captain. Have fun.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “You’re not wearing the cap?” he asked, eyeing me up and down.

  I shook my head. “Honestly, I’m not sure about the outfit but we’ll see.”

  “It’s a change of pace, no question,” he said.

  I gave him a wave and headed toward the lock. Along the way, his “change of pace” comment kept echoing in my head.

  The place—a literal hole in the wall named Bass Clef—fell just on our side of the red line. One more door down and it would have been off limits. I wondered if that was on purpose.

  The host showed us to a table not too close to the stage and distributed menus. “Mike will take care of you. He’ll be along momentarily.”

  We thanked him and he disappeared back toward the front.

  “What’s with the décor?” Ms. Fortuner asked. “Black paint everywhere? It’s like a cave in here.”

  “Been in many caves?” the chief asked.

  “You know what I mean,” she said. “Actually, I have been in a few real caves. They’re dark but there are some really spectacular places to see when you get them lit up.”

  The chief nodded and looked around. “I do know what you mean,” she said. “I suspect it’s some cultural reference. I’m not sure.”

  A guy in black jeans and T-shirt stepped up to the table on Kim’s blind side. “Howdy, folks.”

  Ms. Fortuner almost jumped out of her chair. “Don’t do that!”

  To his credit, the guy seemed mortified. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Black clothes. Black walls. Are you trying to be sneaky or something?” Her face sported a red flush.

  “I’m really sorry, ma’am. Can I get you a drink? On me for scaring you?”

  Ms. Fortuner shook her head. “Thanks, not necessary. It just flipped me out for a sec.”

  The chief leaned over and said in a loud whisper, “Take the free drink, dear. He’s cute.”

  The server took a deep breath and bit his lips together for a moment. “Well, shall we try this again, from the top? I’m Mike. I’ll be taking care of you all this evening. Can I get you started with drinks while you look over the menus?” He smiled brightly, a slightly goofy grin that made us all laugh.

  “You got a local beer?” Pip asked.

  “Several. What’s your preference? Heavy, light, dark, hoppy?”

  “What’s your light?”

  “We have a nice pilsner and there’s a great brown ale. A little heavier on the malt but still well shy of porter or stout.”

  “I’ll try that,” he said. “Can we get a pitcher?”

  “Of course, sir.” He looked around. “How many glasses?”

  “Coffee for me,” I said. “Black.”

  He nodded and looked around, counting raised hands.

  Ms. Fortuner said, “Is the coffee any good here?”

  He grinned at her. “I like it. Depends on what you’re used to, I guess.”

  She nodded. “I’ll have that.”

  The chief ask
ed, “Do you have any specialties?”

  “I have several,” he said, winking at her. “But the house has a couple of specials tonight. We just got some really fine pork ribs with a smokey barbecue sauce that are on offer this evening. The prime rib is great, it’s served just on the pale pink side with a dollop of our house horseradish and choice of sides. Vegans? The chef makes a killer vegetarian chili. Asian fusion. Heavy on the beans and tofu with a fermented soybean paste sauce. Hot, medium, or mild. The hot will make your eyes water but it’s a local favorite.”

  A short pause as everybody looked at everybody else but nobody spoke.

  “Drinks for now,” I said. “Give us a few ticks to check out the menus?”

  He grinned and nodded before fading into the background again.

  It took us almost no time to sort through the various menu options. By the time we were done, Mike had returned with our drinks. He left with the food orders and Pip did the honors with the beer. I took a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t half bad. I was so used to bad coffee in restaurants, it was a pretty low bar to begin with. I just didn’t feel up to beer.

  Pip held up his glass. “The Chernyakova.”

  “Don’t start,” the chief said, but raised her glass and we clinked glass and china around the table. When it looked like he was going to try again, she put a hand on his forearm, holding the glass on the table. “Really. We’ve a long night ahead on a strange station.”

  Pip relented, giving her a small nod and sitting back in his chair.

  The action was so unlike him, I sent a sharp look in his direction.

  He gave a shake of his head. “What shall we talk about?” he asked.

  “Next steps,” Ms. Fortuner said.

  I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the table. “I like this. What kind of next steps?” The chief and Pip both gave me odd looks but I focused on Ms. Fortuner.

  Ms. Fortuner shrugged. “We’re here. The ship’s doing well. We could be close to finding what the chief and Pip have been angsting over. What do we do if we find it?”

  Chief Stevens gave me a wide-eyed stare.