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

by Nathan Lowell

  “What happened to the rest?” Pip asked. “Everybody’s being pretty tight-lipped.”

  “Somebody had taken over the station by the time we got there. They relieved us of the hijackers and the body, the contaminated goods, and the can we took out. They gave us a new can in return.”

  “Are these the good guys or the bad guys?” Pip asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m calling them the good guys. They didn’t try to kill us, commandeer the ship, or enslave any of the crew.”

  “That’s a pretty low bar,” he said with a grin.

  “Given the number of people who’ve tried to do some variation on those over the last month, I’m all right with it.”

  He opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything. He nodded after a few moments. “Good point. I hadn’t looked at it that way.”

  “Do we have a can?” I asked.

  “Not at the moment. What’re you thinking?”

  “Port Newmar. We need to have a stockholders meeting and most of them are there. I suspect the chief’s about to leave us. Al might be willing to stay for a while.” Mal Gaines was there but I didn’t see the need to bring it up.

  “May need to go roundabout,” he said.

  “Fine.”

  He paused and looked at me again. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m relatively sure I’m not.” I shrugged. “I’ll get better.”

  “Dinner ashore tonight?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Sounds good actually.”

  “Really?”

  “Why did you ask if you thought I wouldn’t go?” I asked.

  “I just didn’t expect you to give in so easily.”

  “Neither of us has that many friends.”

  He stared at me for almost a full tick. “We can stock up on Clipper Ship Lager,” he said.

  “As good a reason as any,” I said.

  He nodded a couple of times, almost as if to himself, before pushing himself out of the chair. “All right, then,” he said, clapping his hands. “Meet at 1800. I found a great little bistro just off Main. Janine introduced me to it. You’re going to love it.” He headed for the door.

  “Janine?” I asked.

  He grinned over his shoulder on the way out the door. “My med-tech. You met her, didn’t you?”

  I laughed. “See you at 1800,” I said.

  The shaking had stopped. I couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t come back but I felt the need to move. I changed into my old comfortable jeans and an olive pullover, and slipped into my ship boots. I looked at the burgundy suit on its hanger and turned my back on it. That wasn’t who I was. It might have been once. Not anymore.

  I walked through the main portion of the cabin and stared at the blank wall again. Every time I looked at it, I thought about the Agamemnon. I grabbed my tablet, stuck it in a pocket, and left the cabin behind.

  Ms. Cross passed me coming up as I was going down the ladder. “How’s the painting project coming, Ms. Cross?”

  “We haven’t actually decided on what to paint there yet, but the committee is coming closer to consensus, Captain.”

  “The committee?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, Captain. I started canvassing the crew about what to paint on the spine. A couple of the engineers thought they should decide because they use the spine the most.”

  “What do you think about that argument?”

  She took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It has merit, sar. On any given day, way more engineers than deck division people use it.”

  “But?” I asked.

  “Well, sar, it’s our ship, too. I think having them have some input on what should be there is a good idea, so I recruited them to the committee. I got Ms. Torkelson to join, too. Ms. Ross agreed to be the tie breaker.”

  “Ms. Ross?”

  “Yes, sar. She seemed quite intrigued by the project.”

  “How are you coming on your next rating, Ms. Cross?”

  “I’m almost through the able-spacer work, sar. I should be ready when the next test period comes around.”

  “Well, done, Ms. Cross.” As I started down the ladder something the chief said popped into my head. “Tell me, Ms. Cross, have you considered the academy?”

  “The academy, sar?”

  “Yes, the merchant academy at Port Newmar.”

  She laughed, almost a nervous giggle. “Not possible, Captain.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one, it’s expensive. I don’t have that many credits just floating around, sar.”

  I bit back on a laugh. “I used that line on my captain, too, Ms. Cross.”

  “What happened, sar?”

  I did laugh that time. “I went to the academy.” I gave that a moment to sink in. “You never know what’s possible until you do it. Just think about it, Ms. Cross.” I started down the ladder again.

  “Thank you, Captain. I will.”

  “Good luck with your committee,” I said.

  As I passed the mess deck, I glanced in to see Al standing in the middle of the deck. She appeared to be staring at the bulkhead, deep in thought. Every so often she’d shift her weight or tilt her head. I grinned to myself and left her to her ruminations.

  “I’m going ashore, Ms. Torkelson.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. Do you know when you’ll be back, sar?”

  “I’m meeting Mr. Carstairs for dinner at 1800, but I should be back by 2200 at the latest.”

  “Thank you, sar. I’ll leave a note.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Torkelson.”

  She keyed the lock from her station, but I turned back to her. “How are you doing on your next rating, Ms. Torkelson?”

  “Spec-one helmsman,” she said. “Very close to being ready for the exam.”

  “Get with Ms. Fortuner. She should have the dates. She’ll need to know when you’re ready so she can have the exam for you.”

  “I’m hoping to take it when we dock at Port Newmar, sar.”

  “Port Newmar?”

  “Yes, Captain. Isn’t that where we’re going next?”

  “It is, yes, but how did you know?”

  She shrugged. “Corporate office for Phoenix Freight, isn’t it?”

  “Technically we’re incorporated at Diurnia,” I said. “But you’re right. Most of the board of directors lives at Port Newmar.”

  She nodded. “You’re overdue for a stockholders meeting if I’ve read the by-laws correctly. I just figured that after the last voyage, we’d be grabbing a can headed that way.”

  “You read the by-laws?”

  “Of course, Captain. I mean, not everybody does, but I like to know the kind of company that’s keeping me, sar.” She grinned.

  “Would you have left if you found something you didn’t like?”

  She looked down the passageway as if looking for help.

  “It’s not a problem. I’m just interested in your perspective as a member of the ship’s company.”

  “Well, yes, sar, I probably would have.” She looked down at her console. “I almost did.”

  “Are you comfortable telling me why?”

  She steeled herself, stiffening her spine and raising her eyes to look at me. “Why I stayed or why I almost left, sar?”

  “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Ms. Torkelson. Nothing at all, if that’s your choice.”

  She stared for a moment before making up her mind. “There are companies that say one thing and do another. The Phoenix by-laws are just boilerplate. They’re the minimum required.”

  “And you almost left because of that?” I asked.

  “No, sar. That’s actually pretty common. It’s probably smart. You can’t get in trouble for not doing things you didn’t say you were going to do.” Her eyes glazed over a bit. “Did that come out right?”

  “I got the drift, Ms. Torkelson. You have my attention.”

  “So, yeah. Captain. It’s pretty common. So you have to look at what the company does. How they treat peopl
e. What they stand for.”

  “We don’t measure up?” I asked.

  She looked down.

  “I would really like to know, but if you’re not willing to say, I can respect that, Ms. Torkelson.”

  “So, you pulled me off the docks at Breakall, Captain. That counted. You rehabbed the ship. That was huge. It broke my heart every time I came aboard. You sank I have no idea how much into this ship to make it whole and you brought me along. For that, I thank you.”

  “But?”

  “But you didn’t seem to care. It was like after all the work, it was done. We’re just going to go through the motions and make money and carry on like what we do doesn’t matter.” She looked ready take a fist to the jaw but stood her ground. “Sar.”

  “That’s quite an accurate assessment, Ms. Torkelson.”

  “What?”

  “Your assessment seems very accurate, Ms. Torkelson. You’re right. What made you ship out with us again?”

  “I wanted to give you, the company, one more shot. A new ship. A new crew. I knew there were lots of ghosts, lots of baggage. Not just you. Ms. Ross. Mr. Carstairs. Chief Stevens. Heck, even Ms. Sharps.”

  “And what have you decided,” I asked. “Anything? Should I expect to replace you when we get back to Port Newmar?”

  “I’ve decided that I was right to give it another shot, sar,” she said.

  “I’m pleased to hear it, Ms. Torkelson. Can I ask why?”

  She shrugged. “Lots of stuff. The way you handled those hijackers. Ms. Sharps has a galley she’s proud of. She sings in there sometimes when she thinks nobody’s around. Kris Cross is going to be able spacer soon. You don’t know what that really means. That was a girl who had nothing. Nothing. When we first shipped out, I wasn’t sure she wouldn’t hang herself in the head before we got back.”

  “Ms. Cross?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Seriously, Captain. Have you seen her lately?”

  “I just talked to her about the spine, actually.”

  “She seem like somebody ready to cash out her chips, sar?”

  “No, Ms. Torkelson. She certainly didn’t.”

  Ms. Torkelson shrugged, as if to say “I rest my case.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Torkelson. I appreciate your candor.”

  “You’re welcome, Captain. Enjoy your time ashore.”

  I started off the ship but stopped at the top of the ramp. “Do we stand for something now, Ms. Torkelson?”

  “Sar?”

  “Before. You said you didn’t think we stood for anything.”

  “Oh.” She nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  “Do you still think that? Or do we stand for something now?”

  “We stand for each other, Captain.”

  “Thank you again, Ms. Torkelson.”

  “Any time, Skipper.” She paused for a heartbeat. “Can I ask you a question, Captain?”

  “Of course, Ms. Torkelson.”

  “Weren’t you scared? Taking that gun away from Snake. I almost threw up a little when you leaned right up against the gun like that. Then you just took it away from him like he wasn’t even holding on.” She swallowed. “Sar.”

  “Yes, I was scared, Ms. Torkelson. I was afraid of what he might do with that weapon. In my defense, I recognized it as an orbital defense weapon that I’d trained with at the academy. When I grabbed it from him, the safety was still on and the charging coil was off—it couldn’t have fired even if he’d pulled the trigger. The biggest danger was of jamming my fingers trying to get the magazine out and clearing the chamber.”

  “Oh,” she said. “It looked a lot more dangerous than it was then?”

  “Afraid so, Ms. Torkelson.”

  She nodded and leaned forward a bit. “I won’t tell anybody, sar.”

  “Thank you. Ms. Torkelson.” I chuckled all the way down the ramp.

  I strolled along the gallery and wondered if that’s what Gaines had meant by asking “What will you stand for?” The truth was I really hadn’t given it much thought. I really hadn’t been thinking much at all. I’d been stupidly lucky taking Snake’s gun away without getting my chest filled with glass. I’d been lucky that I spotted those pouches and that the lot of them had been incompetent in the extreme. I felt my hands start to jitter so I stuck them in my pockets and kept walking. I tried to distract myself by trying to reconcile the vibrant Ms. Cross with the picture Ms. Torkelson painted. I kicked myself figuratively several times, but at least my hands stopped shaking.

  I’d been shopping at Dark Knight before with the chief, who seemed to know exactly where to take me. I thought about that a bit on the stroll. I took the short cut to Main Street, ducking through what would have been an alley in any city I’d ever been in.

  Not like I was much of an expert on that. Odd that space had seemed so foreign in the beginning, but now I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Of course, I’d been barely eighteen then. I’d lived more than half my life in the Deep Dark. I had no real explanation of why that made me feel like I’d accomplished something.

  The Main Street looked the same, no matter what time of day. I wondered if there were times when there was more or less traffic. If the shops ever closed. I really had no plan in mind. No real goal. I just wanted to get off the ship. To not be the captain for a few ticks. Myself and my thoughts, loose on the world. I felt like such an idiot, but I smiled because I could.

  I looked in the windows as I went. Much like those on the orbitals, shops displayed merchandise in various ways. Mannequins with clothing. Lots of clothing. Much of it a little bit garish.

  One shop drew me in with a display of boots. I recognized the smell of real leather and oil as soon as I stepped through the door. An old man looked up from a work table when the bell over the door chimed. “Can I help you?”

  “I might need a new pair,” I said.

  He snorted. “Ya do or ya don’t. No matter. You look like a boot man. Spacer?”

  I nodded.

  He waved me over. “Show me.”

  I crossed the tiny shop and he peered down at my footwear. “You wear these all the time?”

  “No. They’re my comfy boots.”

  He glanced up at me with a grin that showed white teeth gleaming against dark and wrinkled skin that looked like it was only one step removed from leather. “Son, there’s comfy boots and the wrong boots. These boots are nice and broken in. Show me the soles.”

  I felt a little strange lifting a foot so he could look at the bottom of my boots.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Getting a little worn. Heels could use some work.” He rubbed his chin and stared at my feet. “New pair’s going to be stiff. Take you some time to break them in. They won’t fit like those do for a while. What to do you wear on the ship?”

  “Normal ankle boot.”

  “Rubber sole? Steel toe?”

  I shook my head. “They’ve got a little tread on them.”

  “Basic spacer boot,” he said. “So you’re not an engineer.” He eyed me up and down. “Not steward. Hands aren’t red enough.” His eyes widened as he looked into my face. “Ah. Sorry, Skipper. I shoulda spotted that first thing.”

  “Not a problem. Honestly, I saw the boots in your window and the scent of good leather just drew me in.”

  He grinned. “So? Dress or casual? These look like they might have been dress at one time.”

  “I’m not much for dress,” I said.

  He nodded. “Fleet once,” he said. “Probably still but you don’t really fit in, do ya?”

  I wondered what he saw when he looked at me.

  “No matter. Come here. Sit down. Take those off and lemme look at ’em.”

  I slipped the boots off and handed them over.

  “Put your feet on that plate,” he said. “Lemme see what we’re working with.”

  I spotted the glassy plate on the decking and rested both stockinged feet on it.

  He looked up from his examination of my footwear and glanced down at my feet. “Ye
ah. Good. Stand up. Right on it. It’ll hold ya.”

  I stood and looked down.

  “Not like that. Atten-HUT,” he said. “Eyes front. Knees slightly bent. You know the drill.”

  I snapped to attention and almost laughed.

  “Been awhile since anybody called you to attention, eh?” He chuckled.

  “Yes. Rather a long while,” I said.

  He pulled out a tablet and looked at the readouts. “That’s got it. Nothing seriously wrong with the way you’re standin’.” He looked from the readouts to my feet a couple of times. “Yeah. That’s good.” He nodded and handed my boots back to me.

  “So, what’d’ya think, Doc, will I live?”

  “Oh, sure, but your days of playing piano are behind you,” he said.

  I laughed and slipped my boots back on.

  “You want a new pair like those?” he asked. “But new? You’ll have to break them in yourself, of course.”

  “Yes.” The word popped out before I realized it. “How soon?”

  He shook his head. “Next time you come back to Dark Knight.”

  “It’ll be weeks. Maybe months.”

  He nodded. “You’re not exactly the first spacer I’ve dealt with. I got a room full of boots back there.” He jerked a thumb at the back of his shop. “Lemme set up your account. Take less than a tick. Next time you’re here, swing by.”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll do the work and I’ll never come back?”

  He shook his head and started tapping on his tablet. “Half now to cover the cost of materials. Half when you pick them up. I might have made five or six pairs in the last couple of decades and didn’t get paid. Still have the boots. New owner might come for them.” He shrugged. “Don’t matter. I’m doing what I like doing. I make enough from people who pay.” He thrust the tablet at me. “Thumb that and we’re done except for the color.”

  I looked at the sum on the tablet and thumbed it. “Black, please.”

  He nodded. “I figgered. Goes with anything. You can dress up or down and still wear black. Lemme flash you a receipt, Captain, and you can be about your business.”

  I held my tablet and accepted his beam. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Thank you for your custom, Captain.” He tossed his tablet down on the table and returned to his work. “They’ll be ready for you to pick up in three weeks.”