Tanager's Fledglings (The Tanager Book 1)

by Cedar Sanderson

  “What is that?” He pointed.

  The pup stood up, his tail slowly waving as he sniffed the air.

  “This is my dog.” Jem looked down at him. The pup looked up and let his tongue hand out, wagging harder.

  “A dog?” The man looked like he was torn between curiosity and fear.

  “Sure, he’s a pet. A companion. You can pat him.” Jem bent and ruffled the dog’s ears.

  The other man slowly extended his fingers. The pup sniffed them, then licked his hand. The stationer jumped. But he did finally touch the top of the dog’s head.

  “He’s soft!”

  “Yep. And friendly.”

  “We have cats aboard.” The stationer looked for a moment like he was going to sit on the floor and play. Reluctantly, he straightened. “But they look nothing like this.”

  “Dogs come in a lot of shapes and sizes. He’s of the kind called Basset Hound.”

  “I would like to learn more, but time is pressing.”

  “If they don’t kick us off the station you can come play with him. He likes fetch.”

  Jem headed out the hatch with a ‘stay’ to the dog, who for a wonder listened and lay down on the decking with a small whine. The stationer looked back at him once, and then followed out into the dock. “Fetch? And I apologize.”

  “You throw a ball, he gets it and brings it back. Apologize for what?” Jem felt his shoulders tensing again. He’d relaxed when the man met the dog, and he couldn’t imagine a more human reaction than what he’d just watched. But there were more dangers than Moskvin’s phantom aliens.

  “I have not introduced myself. I am called TJ... my full name is too much to say for most people.” He smiled at Jem. “I would enjoy to play fetch with the dog. Has he a name?”

  Jem realized that TJ had just given him the solution of the dog’s name. “Like you, he goes by his initials. He’s EB.”

  “Eby! Come, come, I have delayed you.”

  TJ hurried his steps, and Jem kept pace with him, observing his surroundings without seeming to look. He didn’t want to make them think he was scoping out the place, but he wanted to assess it. Walking blind into a situation didn’t make him happy at all, despite TJ’s reaction to the dog. Added to this was the revelation that Moskvin had made, and Jem was feeling far more tense than he was happy with. The station looked much as it had when he’d last walked through the corridors as a teen boy, brimming with questions for Lyria, who ran the station’s gardens and hydroponics.

  Stations, with rare exceptions, looked as though they had been pressed from the same mold. Most of them had a long spindle, which was low-grav, and rings spinning enough to generate gravity for living quarters. The systems that kept the Tanager from apparent acceleration and provided constant gravity were not cost efficient on such a large scale. Jem thought he might have noticed if something had changed with the fabric of the station itself. But it was still the same ceramsteel floor decking, scuffed with years of traffic, and embossed metal walls - Walter had explained to him, when he walked along one such corridor as a boy, trailing his fingers over the designs, that it didn’t show fingerprints and smudges. The ironic look he’d given Jem had gone over his head at the time.

  Jem refocused on the people. There weren’t many, but he remembered there being very few on his last trip here. It was a dark station, with no real traffic, and TJ had said that it was months since the last ship. This jolted free a thought.

  “TJ, you said it had been months since a ship came in? Is someone missing?”

  TJ didn’t break stride, just nodded. “The belter ship, Gwar, should have arrived two months ago, and we had begun to worry about you.”

  “Er, this isn’t my place to ask and you needn’t answer, but doesn’t the station have a ship?”

  “Not as much.” TJ looked sideways at Jem. “Perhaps we will continue this conversation later.”

  “I’m really not trying to pry.” Jem shrugged. “Just worried. What would happen if I didn’t show?” He added hastily, “rhetorical question.”

  TJ chuckled. “It is a reasonable question. We are not entirely self-sufficient.”

  The older man stopped, and gestured at a closed set of doors. Not hatches, or not as far as Jem could tell, they were wood, arched, and intricately carved. Jem didn’t get a chance to study the designs before they swung open, and he was faced with the station’s Committee.

  The room was not large, but the high, vaulted ceiling made it seem larger, and the lighting was focused only on the men sitting at a round table and left the edges of the room in shadows. Overall, the effect was of a vast area, and a central raised dais where the table stood, with no empty chairs. Jem understood as they walked in silence toward it, that he would be standing in the open central space of the table, with the Committee surrounding him. He took a deep breath and tried to surreptitiously relax. TJ led him through the narrow opening in the table, and when they were in the center of it, Jem followed his lead in making the pressed hand and head-bow gesture to the man directly in front of them. Jem recognized him as the trader, Ahmed.

  Jem had never realized that the man was in essence the leader of the station. TJ turned to Jem and murmured “I must leave you. Be of good cheer, my young friend.”

  If the others heard, they didn’t show it. Jem, left alone, looked at Ahmed, then slowly turned in place to see if he recognized any of the others. Lyria was there, fourth on the left from Ahmed. In total there were twelve, seated around the table. Jem came back to meet Ahmed’s eyes.

  “We see you, young Jem.” Ahmed intoned. The others repeated, ‘we see you.’ in the same monotone.

  “And I see you.” Jem wasn’t sure if that was the right response, but it seemed the polite thing to say.

  “We recognize that from the boy, has risen a man, like the plant from the seed. He has not yet borne fruit, but the potential is there.” This was Lyria’s voice, and Jem looked at her. Her face was still, no sign that she knew him as she spoke.

  “We see a man.” The others chorused.

  Jem heartily wished they wouldn’t do that; it was making his skin crawl. He had no idea what to say to that.

  Another man spoke. Jem didn’t know him. “We ask if the man is the master of the Tanager.”

  Jem stiffened his back and stood tall. “I am Captain Raznick, of the Scarlet Tanager.”

  “You succeed Walter Raznick?”

  “I do.” Jem faced the new speaker and spoke firmly.

  “You vow to reveal our location to no one?”

  “I do.” Jem certainly hoped he could keep it a secret from Moskvin.

  “To supply us, convey our mail, and succor our needs?”

  Jem opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked from this speaker - an old woman - to Ahmed. Ahmed nodded slightly, and Jem felt he could ask his question. “What is contained in ‘succor our needs?”

  The old lady smiled approvingly. “Merely to maintain your route in a timely fashion, and if an emergency befalls us, to offer space in our ship to those who must flee. But we will not call you from across the galaxy for this, you are a friend but not family.”

  Jem nodded his understanding of that subtle distinction. “Then I do.”

  Another of the Committee spoke, this time, and Jem turned to face him. He was going to get dizzy if this kept up. “Do you vow to conceal the name of the station, even in your ship’s logs?”

  “I do.” Jem already knew that Walter had designated this place as ‘Dark Station’ in the logs. He’d merely continue the tradition.

  As one, they chorused, “we see you, Captain Raznick. Welcome, and may your ventures be ever full of profit, and your days long in the stars.”

  Jem looked at Ahmed, who now wore a beaming smile. “Perhaps you will break bread with us? We have much to talk about.”

  Jem felt a rush of relief. That was it? He’d been afraid they would blacklist him, and now he was going... He took a deep breath, released it, and “I would like that.”


  Several hours later - Jem was never quite sure how long, as he’d forgotten to look at his timepiece before following Ahmed out of the dramatic Committee Room - Jem staggered back into the dock. He wasn’t drunk, having followed Ahmed’s lead at the party and refrained from alcohol, but he was both giddy from relief and happiness over the prospect of a crammed-full Tanager leaving port, and he was very tired. Since the Tanager was the first ship they had seen in so long, everyone had cargo for him. He was going to have to work hard to get the ship ready for all of it.

  Jem fumbled with the plants he was carrying, balancing one pot precariously, and pushed the hatch button. It chimed, and he muttered a curse as he tried to put his palm on the reader without dropping his gift. Lyria had sent him home with presents from her garden, and he’d promised her starts in return. She’d been utterly enchanted with his description of the moss floors in Liam’s shop back on Tas, and he was commissioned to bring her starts of it, and instructions. He didn’t tell her his secret thoughts on having a real, live, person to instruct her in the form of Misha. That was so nebulous he didn’t even dare dream about it yet. Although he couldn’t stop thinking about her, either.

  The hatch slid open, and Jem stumbled through it, juggling pots. The rosemary was a little bruised, as he could smell the fragrance coming off it in waves, but nothing was fatally harmed. The dog jumped up, ears flapping and tail waving.

  “Were you there the whole time?” Jem asked him. EB responded by trying to reach his face for kisses. He made it to Jem’s knees. “Oof! Down, dog.”

  Moskvin appeared in the far hatchway. “Permission to come help you with those, Cap’n?”

  Jem was in too good a mood to let Moskvin spoil it. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

  “Plants?” Moskvin eyed the two pots he’d taken, holding them at arm’s length.

  “Herbs,” Jem said, leading the way to the garden. He wasn’t quite to the stage of careening off walls, but he needed coffee, and a shot of Doc’s magic juice, although that last wasn’t happening. It had scared him when it wore off.

  “Ok. How was the meeting? Good, I take it. We napped. Pup wouldn’t leave the door, I slept in my own bunk. Not as loyal as the dog, sorry.”

  Jem snorted. “Meeting was a success. I married the station, and we have more cargo than we can handle.”

  “You married the what? No, no... nevermind, I didn’t ask. ‘We’ meaning you and the dog. I’m passenger, not crew. Speaking of which...”

  “I’m not hiring.” Jem put his pots on the bench, and Moskvin added his load. “But yes, I probably should recruit crew. Just not at Tianjin.”

  Moskvin made an exaggerated grimace. “No, well, maybe. But not among the stationers. Might find some displaced in the low docks.”

  “Erm.” Jem hadn’t thought of that. “Might. Coffee now, though. I have a long night ahead of me.”

  Moskvin yawned and stretched. “Now that you’re in safely, Cap’n, I’m going back to bed.”

  Jem shook his head as Moskvin vanished. He took a deep breath of the moist, fragrant air in the garden, and then headed to the galley. It sometimes seemed like his world revolved around it. The center of the ship. Where the coffee was made. He leaned against the bulkhead and sniffed the fragrance of the coffee, mingled with the scent of the herbs still clinging to him. Once he’d had a cup, he’d go move hold partitions. Food wasn’t going to be necessary for a while, he had a belly full from the celebration.

  The size of the party had taken him aback. There had obviously been some time spent, not to mention credits, on the food alone. Jem had taken one look at the buffet spread and sampled, only. He’d still managed to overeat. Now, thinking about it while he sipped his coffee and felt his head start to clear, he realized that the time they’d made him wait on the meeting must have been spent putting the party together. As Moskvin had predicted, it was a foregone conclusion. And Jem did feel like he’d married the station. All those repetitions of ‘I do’ felt more like vows than a simple business agreement.

  It was worth it, though, if he were going to pull consignments of this size out of them every trip. He finished his coffee and rinsed the cup, leaving it on the counter for later. He’d need more.

  Chapter 18: Tianjin Station

  When the first load of cargo arrived in the station’s morning, Jem hadn’t been to bed. He’d discovered that when the refit crew had painted holds in Flinders, they had managed to paint two partitions into place. It wasn’t a permanent problem, but it had taken him longer and used more solvent than he cared to think about. He was just glad he’d thought to change out of the good duds into a worn shipsuit.

  He’d gone through two pots of the good coffee, though, and the dog had abandoned him, presumably to sleep on Jem’s bunk. Jem didn’t allow that when he was in the cabin, but the dog slept in it when he wasn’t there. Jem knew this, as he found dog hair on his pillow regularly. Moskvin had awakened, grunted at Jem - the man was not a morning person, and it wasn’t even morning ship’s time - and drank the last cup of coffee.

  “Want me to make more?” He’d eyed Jem, who was rinsing his cup out.

  “No, thanks. Loads start arriving,” he checked his wrist, “in less than ten minutes.”

  “Want help?” Moskvin didn’t look like he was volunteering. He sat down at the table.

  Jem shook his head. “They still don’t know you’re even here. Or if they do, they haven’t brought it up.”

  “So I’m to make like a mushroom.”

  “Huh?” Jem didn’t follow that one.

  “Sit in the dark and you’ll feed me shit.” Moskvin picked up his cup and sipped at it delicately. “Good coffee.”

  Jem shook his head. Moskvin’s sense of humor seemed to deteriorate when he was confined. “Don’t worry, we leave for Tianjin as soon as the load is secured.”

  “And how long will that be? I’m getting a bit stir-crazy.” Moskvin asked.

  Jem shook his head and headed for the hatch. “Ya think? I’ll let you know. There’s going to be a lot of loading.”

  “I know, I know. Stay in my cabin.” Moskvin called after him.

  Jem was walking across the entry hold when the hatch started chiming. He slapped the button and stepped back. The float pallet came in slowly, and Ahmed was on the heels of the dock worker. He made a hasty gesture, more of a nod and clap of the hands. Jem followed suit a little more formally. He wasn’t entirely sure if there was a way he could mess this up.

  “Ready for this?” Ahmed asked.

  Jem nodded. “Through there,” he pointed at the far hatch. “Then the first hatch on the left. It’s open.”

  He turned back to Ahmed as the float pallet was pushed away. Ahmed stepped further away from the hatch as another man came through. “I should have sent a crew to help you prepare.”

  Jem shrugged. “I had a refit at Flinders. Wasn’t much to do.”

  Ahmed beamed at him. “You are an excellent captain.”

  Jem squirmed a little, still uncomfortable with the formal title. “I do what needs done.”

  Ahmed nodded. “Then I shall return to expedite on my end, and leave this in your capable hands.”

  He repeated the abbreviated gesture, and Jem imitated him. Ahmed paused for a second as a pallet cleared the hatch, and then ducked through it rapidly, causing first a spate of angry words from the next worker, and then a nearly inaudible but apologetic sounding murmur. The man hadn’t realized he was yelling at his boss, Jem realized. The float pallet sailed through the hatch, and Jem turned his attention back to being traffic director.

  Loading didn’t take nearly as long as he’d feared. Ahmed had a large crew working on loading, since this station didn’t have an automated dock system. Jem pointed, they put, and then when he was beginning to run calculations in his head, worrying about running out of space, Ahmed reappeared.

  “Load is complete. Safe journeys to the Tanager.”

  Jem imitated the sloppy gesture. Being part of the ‘friends’ h
ad benefits. “And a profit to your ventures.”

  Ahmed grinned. “You pick it up like a native. Now, I must get back to my shop.”

  “Thank you.” Jem didn’t know how to express his thoughts on the whole experience at the Dark Station. He decided that he’d focus on the business and be happy he was likely to make a profit. Besides, he was too tired to be eloquent.

  Suddenly he was alone again. Almost alone. Dammit - Moskvin had been too quiet. Jem frowned and headed for the bridge. He wanted to be on the way out of station space. He stopped and banged on Moskvin’s cabin door. The hatch popped open. Moskvin leaned out. “What? Am I free to move about the ship, Captain?”

  “There are no aliens.” Jem snapped. “Foldspace transition in approximately six hours.”

  Jem stomped off toward the bridge. Moskvin called after him, “there are aliens! Just not here.”

  Jem couldn’t wait until they got to Tianjin and Moskvin got off. Unfortunately, while they could pass into foldspace relatively close to the station, Tianjin was in orbit around a gas giant. The big station was tethered to a moon, which had an atmosphere of sorts. Jem hadn’t been down on it, you needed a respirator, and there was nothing he was curious enough about to jump through the regulated hoops required. But the problem was the gravity well of the giant. They would be in transit for two days after dropping out of the folds.

  Jem solved this dilemma by spending most of his time in the garden with the dog. The new plants Lyria had given him needed to be put in, but the conditions of the soil needed tweaking first. Jem pottered happily. He saw Moskvin briefly in the evenings in the galley. Moskvin, for a change, was respecting his need for space. Jem was eager to be completely alone again. Walter he’d been accustomed to, and the old man’s moods meant there might be days they didn’t talk.

  It was almost a relief when the Tanager got within comm distance of the station. Jem sent a data message, highly compacted, with the bill of lading that would be offloaded at Tianjin. This station ran on rules and regulations, Jem knew, and he had to make sure all his paperwork was in order. He sent a different data packet to another address, the mail from the route that had accumulated thus far. Then, a request for a tow bid from a pilot ship. Tianjin didn’t allow self-piloted ships anywhere near the station, or even the moon.