In Ashes Born (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1)

by Nathan Lowell

  I remembered watching her perform this same ritual when I was a cadet. She seldom picked the same cup twice for herself and the cups for her guests always appeared to have some symbolism. I considered the white shape in front of me as she tilted the teapot over it. The rich, dark tea steamed as it flowed into the simple bowl. She lifted the spout and then lowered it to fill her own cup without spilling a drop. I knew part of it was the teapot, a classic from someplace far away. Part of it was her practiced skill in using it. She placed it on a hot stone slab and leaned forward to let the warm steam from her cup waft across her face.

  I tested the surface of my cup with fingertips before committing myself to gripping it. The smooth glaze retained sufficient coolness as the cup’s mass slowly absorbed the heat. I took a careful sip and managed to avoid burning my tongue.

  “You’re out of practice,” she said.

  “With tea?”

  She gave a slight nod toward the practice floor.

  “I let my discipline slide.”

  “You’ve risen very fast, Ishmael.”

  I stared into the simple cup of tea, admiring the smooth lines of the clay and satin finish of the glaze. “I flew too high.” The words came to my lips unbidden but once uttered I knew them too well.

  When Sifu Newmar didn’t answer, I looked across the table. She was smiling at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  She lifted the brightly colored cup to her lips and took a slurping sip from its gold-touched rim. Without taking her eyes from mine, she placed it back down on the table. “What would you have done differently?” The smile never left her lips. “Knowing what you’ve learned? Would you take a different path?”

  I sighed and shook my head, looking down into my cup again. Small bits of leaf and sediment hung suspended in the tea like dust motes in a sun beam. I stared at them, hoping they might offer some insight. “I let myself become too rigid.”

  “Say more.”

  I glanced over at her. “What I learned on the Lois McKendrick, I took with me.”

  “Commandant Giggone will be gratified to learn that.”

  “I took it too far. I ignored the evidence of my own eyes and clung to dogma instead of adapting to new understanding.”

  “Sort of like tai chi, eh?” One corner of her lips curved up and she hid the crooked grin behind her teacup.

  I felt my lips responding with a smile of my own. “I’m out of practice.”

  She nodded and replaced her cup on the table. “You’ve some pruning to do and perhaps some new seeds to sow. You’ll have a few weeks to practice, I think.”

  “I was planning on a few months.”

  “Plans are not actions.” Her eyebrows lifted and her smile broadened. “We’ve rested long enough. Drink up. I have time for a couple more sets before I need to visit a leggy lilac bush across campus.” She stood and crossed to the sideboard to rinse out her cup.

  I lifted my cup and drained it to the dregs. “What would you like me to prune? More roses?” She grinned at me over one shoulder and offered a shrug. “I’d like you to cut down your baggage. Can you weed out enough to get down to one grav-trunk?”

  Her answer surprised a laugh out of me, but it also made me pause. “It’s everything I own.”

  Her eyebrows expressed much more than words might have. She turned to the floor and bowed before stepping into the sunlight.

  Chapter Three

  Port Newmar:

  2374, May 26

  An onshore breeze brought the iodine pinch of saltwater from the bay. The system primary had cleared the tree line but hadn’t yet warmed the air. The coolness of it soothed my skin and made the sweat on the back of my shirt feel chilly.

  I had nearly made it back to my cottage when Cadet Udan found me on the path.

  He saluted sharply but didn’t hold it. Completely understandable since I was out of uniform. “Sar, Commandant’s compliments and would you join her for lunch mess at the Officers Club at 1200 hours?”

  “I’d be pleased to, Mr. Udan.”

  “Thank you, sar. I’ll let her know.”

  “Carry on, Mr. Udan.”

  As he marched away in proper cadet form, I marveled that I had ever been that young. I wondered what happened to that boy, then snorted and resumed my stroll toward the shower. It hadn’t even been twenty stanyers since I’d been a cadet. It seemed like much longer.

  As I strolled, the images from the Chernyakova came back to me. I hadn’t thought of that for a long time, but it had only been—what? I couldn’t remember. When I counted back on my fingers, I realized it had only been three stanyers since we’d jumped into Breakall and found the ship adrift. Less than that, really. Closer to two and a half. A year on the Agamemnon and a year on the Iris. Only a few months since I left my last ship to the tender care of Christine Maloney.

  As far as I knew, the Chernyakova still waited for auction in Breakall. The first two auctions had failed. I wondered what would happen with the next one. Docking fees added up over time.

  The roses around the door looked fully recovered from my ministrations. The white double blooms seemed to shine in their own light against the rich green foliage. The pile of clippings had disappeared from beside the path.

  I stripped off the soggy workout clothes and dropped them into the refresher and rummaged in my grav-trunks for clean shorts and my dress uniform. I could have gotten away with a set of utilities, but lunch at the O Club meant I’d be on display. I owed it to Alys Giggone to put on a good face.

  As I sorted through the trunks, Sifu Newmar’s words came back to me. I’d left Neris with less than twenty kilos of worldly possessions. I’d arrived on Port Newmar with thirty. Looking at the two trunks, I knew they tipped in at nearly two hundred. With that thought, I grabbed my shower gear and headed for the bathroom.

  I was pretty sure Sifu Newmar had not been talking about just the physical baggage. Seeing the physical manifestation got me wondering how I’d measure the psychic baggage. With roses, you could learn where to clip. A branch out of place here. A stem gone wrong there. Clipping that to open the center and this to foster bushiness. Physical baggage can be measured in mass or volume or both.

  How did one measure psychological baggage? Where—and what—would one clip?

  Alys Giggone hadn’t changed much. I hadn’t seen her since I left the Lois McKendrick but the image in my mind matched the smile that greeted me when I stepped into the O Club at 1145. “Captain Wang!” She waved me over to the bar. Her pristine undress whites showed off her tan and sported a commandant’s fleet arrow on the collar.

  I dropped my hat on a hook by the door and crossed the uncrowded bar. I could feel myself grinning back at her. Heads turned to watch me. Faces showed curiosity more than anything. It looked like a slow lunchtime. I suspected most of the permanent party had their own quarters and transients didn’t spend lunch hours there. Perhaps I was just unfashionably early.

  “Commandant, thank you for the invitation.”

  She snorted and held a hand for me to shake. “You’re allowed to call me Alys. At least at the bar. What’ll you have?”

  I shook her hand. “Coffee any good here?”

  “Better be.” She turned to the bartender. “Mike, coffee for the captain, if you please?”

  “Of course, sar.” He found a heavy china mug embossed with the academy logo in gold and filled it from a thermal carafe behind the bar. He slipped it onto the polished wood in front of me. “Cream? Sugar?”

  I shook my head and reached for the handle. After a tentative sip I nodded my thanks. “She’s right. This is good.”

  He beamed and took his polishing cloth down the bar.

  I perched my rump on the tall stool and settled in beside her. “I’ll admit, it’s a bit surreal.”

  She snorted again. “You’ll get used to it. You didn’t socialize with the other captains out there in Diurnia?”

  “None of them were my first skipper.”

  She gave a shor
t chuckle at that. “No doubt.” She took a pull from her glass. “So, last time I saw you, you were worried about how to pay for the academy. Got your loans paid off yet?” Her lips curved up in a half smile.

  I laughed. “Yeah. I didn’t have to take out that much, and I had that paid back before I made second mate.”

  “Told ya,” she said with a bump of her elbow. “Now look at you. Captain and everything after only, what? Sixteen stanyers?”

  “Something like that. I came up fast but I had a lot of help pushing me up the ladder.” I toasted her with my mug.

  She smiled and nodded. “I heard about Maloney. Geoff was a good man. My father always thought highly of him.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t know him that well. Father knew him because they had committee business together. Seems like I’d barely taken over here when we got the word that he’d passed on.”

  “Well, he gave me my start, even if it was as bait.”

  She looked at me with one eyebrow arched in query. “Who? My father or Maloney?”

  “Both, actually.” I shrugged. “Your father recommended me when Maloney showed up at the academy after graduation looking for a green third mate.”

  “And you took it?”

  “I didn’t have a large number of choices. A lot of the class had shipped out by the time Maloney made me an offer. I was afraid I’d be here doing another year just because I didn’t have a berth.” I took a sip of the coffee.

  “You said bait?”

  I nodded. “Long story.” I chewed on the inside of my lip as I remembered it. “It was pretty bad. I think that was the first time I was ever punched by a senior officer. By anybody for that matter.”

  “Punched?” The look of amazement stretched her eyes wide and left her jaw hanging.

  “On the bridge. First mate caught me by surprise with a punch to the gut.”

  “Oh, Ishmael. Your first berth out of the academy and you got a bully first mate?”

  I shrugged. “I had no idea. My only saving grace was that I knew I had no idea. It’s a miracle that I wasn’t booted for insubordination.”

  “You? Insubordinate? Is that why he hit you?”

  I shook my head and opened my mouth to tell her, but Mike returned.

  “Commandant? Captain? Your table is ready.”

  A steward in a spotless white uniform showed us to a table in the corner. I hadn’t seen a table dressed that well since Jimmy Chin’s Plum Blossom on Welliver. From the immaculate white table cloth to the precise placement of embossed silver and a single yellow rose, the staff had created a work of art.

  “Anything wrong, Captain?” the steward asked as I stood there gazing.

  I glanced at his name tag. “Not at all, Mr. Armstrong. Your work?” I waved a hand at the table.

  He smiled and I realized he was much older than the typical cadet. “I’ve been doing it for some time now, Captain. Practice makes perfect.”

  I nodded agreement and slipped into my place across from the commandant.

  “We’ll have the special, Rubin,” she said. “Another coffee for Captain Wang and if you could bring me another iced tea?”

  He smiled and nodded. “Of course, Commandant.” He disappeared through a swinging door that wafted some delicious aromas as he passed.

  She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Punched?”

  “I interfered with the first mate’s watch section. He punched me for it.”

  “That’s conduct unbecoming in most circles.” She rested her elbows on the table, her fingers steepled in front of her face.

  “The captain approved of his tactics.”

  She sighed. “I’m surprised Geoff put up with that.”

  “He didn’t, but he didn’t have the lawyers to back him up.”

  “Ugh. I understand the reasoning but when something’s obviously wrong, finding the legal justification can be a real pain.”

  “Literally, in this case.”

  “For you?” she asked.

  “For the women they assaulted and left in medical.”

  Her expression went dark and her brow furrowed. “That’s unconscionable.”

  Mr. Armstrong returned with the drinks and small cups of soup, interrupting her train of thought.

  “Old news. Blacklisted and never got another job as far as I know.”

  She shook her head and addressed her soup. “My spies tell me you met Frederica deGrut.”

  “She gave me my stars,” I said. “She was on the Tinker as cargo master. Took command when Maloney cashiered Burnside and Rossett.”

  “I read that in the bulletin.” She looked up from her soup. “That she’d taken command. Not how it came about.”

  I turned to my own soup. Something about it tasted familiar. It carried a spicy flavor and a richness to the mouth that I’d never found after leaving the Lois. “This reminds me of Cookie’s soup.”

  She grinned at me across the table. “I’m not surprised.”

  “What? He’s here?”

  She gave me a half shrug and a smile. “Rank hath some privileges. He was getting ready to retire, but I convinced him to join the permanent party staff here. He’ll be out to say hello as soon as they get the luncheon served.”

  I looked around and realized that the place had filled up while we chatted. The few faces that had turned in my direction when I entered had become a sea of discreet glances. “Are these all permanent party?”

  She shook her head, glancing around. “Several are summer faculty. Some are graduate students. We’ve a fair number here for a seminar on economic modeling that starts in a couple of days.” She cast me a knowing look at that last bit.

  “What, you mean like the stuff Pip did?”

  “Very much like the stuff Pip did.” Merriment seemed to set her eyes dancing.

  I sat back. “No.”

  She nodded. “Third Annual Symposium on Economic Modeling.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. He’s due to dock at the orbital sometime late tomorrow.”

  I had the strangest feeling. “We’re talking about Pip, right?”

  “Cargo First Phillip Carstairs, these days,” she said.

  “Pip? Here?”

  “Keynote speaker.”

  “Pip.”

  She gave me a small laugh. “Yes, Pip. The one-time red-headed terror of the spaceways. Your ex-bunkie and cause of half my gray hairs.”

  I glanced up by reflex and she tutted.

  “Sorry,” I said, running a hand across my mostly naked scalp. “Mine started turning and abandoned ship. Seems I inherited it from my father.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Your father. Wasn’t there something about him?”

  “Yeah.” I took the last spoonful of soup and pressed the cup back from the edge of the table. “I didn’t know where he was when you were trying to get me into the academy.”

  “I remember. It wasn’t a problem in the long run. Probably helped you.” She finished with her soup. Mr. Armstrong swooped in to remove the empties.

  “Your plates will be right up, sars,” he said and disappeared again.

  “Did you ever find him?” she asked.

  “I did. He owns a restaurant on Diurnia Orbital. Does very well for himself as the chief cook and bottle washer.”

  “Is that why you went to Diurnia?”

  I shook my head. “Maloney made the only offer. It was just coincidence. I’ve been with DST ever since. I only discovered my father was on station a few months ago.”

  “Wait. What?”

  Armstrong came out with a tray and settled two plates of Cookie’s spicy beefalo in front of us. I took several moments to inhale the aroma that took me back to a time I thought I’d remembered. The scent of dusky spice wafting across the table made me realize that my memory contained only a hollow shell. The smells of too many ships and too many half-decent meals had dulled the edge. I closed my eyes and inhaled, nearly overcome by the aroma. I almost cried. When
I opened my eyes, Cookie’s dark face and gleaming smile met mine.

  “So, Captain Wang,” he said. “You’ve come a long way from the mess deck.”

  I rose and, propriety be damned, gave the man a hug. “Not so far as you might think,” I said. I stepped back and became aware of the amused glances around us. “Thank you,” I said. “You—” I shook my head unable to form words for a moment.

  “Thank you, young Ishmael,” he said. “You’ve made me proud.”

  “You’ve made us proud,” the commandant said.

  “Sit. Eat.” Cookie pressed me back into my chair. “You two have much to catch up on and I have a kitchen to run. You’ll be on-planet for a while?”

  I nodded.

  “Excellent. We’ll have a chance to catch up ourselves when duty is not so pressing.” He glanced down at the commandant with a nod and a smile before ducking through the kitchen door.

  I took my seat again and shook my head. “You’re just full of surprises, Commandant.”

  “Alys,” she said. “You’re not in my command and I’m not one to stand on ceremony.”

  “Alys,” I repeated and shook my head again. “It feels strange. You’ve always been the captain to me.”

  “I remember my first captain, too,” she said. “He retired before I took the Lois. Hiram Longstreet. Starched martinet of the old school. Thank gods I knew real captains before I met him. We never met again after I came to the academy.” Her lips twisted in a wry grin.

  “Having met Rossett, I’m glad I met real captains first, too.”

  She laughed. “Speaking of real captains, what actually happened between you and Cassie?”

  “Cassie?” I momentarily blanked on the name. “Captain Harrison?”

  “You remember. The captain who gave you a recommendation on the basis of having met you on the brow watch one night?” She took a forkful of beefalo and grinned at me.

  “What did Captain Harrison have to say?” I asked.