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

by Nathan Lowell

  “That doesn’t sound good,” I said.

  She smiled. “Eloquent is good.”

  “It really was good, Cap’n,” Al said. “Really.”

  “Then why are you two warning me about it?” I looked to Pip who simply shrugged.

  “It’s got a tone that I don’t think you intended.” The chief shook her head. “You’ll have to watch it to see. Later. We still have a ship to prep for tomorrow.”

  Her words snapped me back from wherever I’d been. Or perhaps it was the coffee. “Diagnostics still running on the Burleson drive?”

  “Yeah, but early results confirm we got legs all the way to the ground.”

  “Another fortune cookie?”

  “No. Just something my second husband used to say about his first wife. Seemed appropriate.”

  “You expecting to divorce the ship?”

  “Not any time soon, but I didn’t plan on divorcing him either.” She shrugged.

  “Al? Can we do this thing tomorrow?”

  “It’ll take some doing, but I think if we limit the number of people who come aboard at once we should be all right. We can put different teams to work in different places. Start with berthing and the san in there with one group, add a couple groups for engineering. The crew coming in seem solid on their records, so if they’re not complete drones they should be able to point and sniff.”

  “Pip? What am I missing?”

  “I’m worried about the OMO’s reaction. If they see this operation starting up in the morning, will they come down on us like a ton of iron?”

  “Should we visit with Singer again?” I asked.

  Pip shook his head. “I’d just as soon ask forgiveness for being an idiot than for going against legal advice.”

  “Well, what are the possibilities? We’re hiring civilian day workers to clean the ship. That’s done all the time.”

  The chief and Al both nodded.

  “We’re fulfilling the health and safety requirements by giving them training in how not to blow up the ship while we’re docked.”

  They nodded again.

  “We have a legitimate need. This ship is filthy. We’re giving them legitimate tasks to do in cleaning it.”

  “No arguments there, Captain,” the chief said. “It’s the ‘paying them in sponges’ part.”

  “There’s no minimum wage in CPJCT regs.”

  “No, but there’s union scale,” Al said.

  “For spacers hired on under contract and having signed The Articles. We’re hiring civilians on a fixed-term contract for a very, very short duration.” I shrugged. “I’m no lawyer but CPJCT regs are pretty clear that the contract binds so long as both parties agree to the terms.” I looked to Pip. “Right?”

  He shrugged. “As far as I know, it’s never been tested like this.”

  “Pull it back around to the other dock,” I said. “Would we be having this discussion if I had hired ten civilians to clean the ship for an hour and offered one credit per person per stan?”

  “Nobody would do it for that,” Pip said.

  Thinking back to the people in line, I wasn’t so sure he was right. “Assuming I could find ten people willing to work under those terms?”

  “As long as we’re not underway, I don’t see why that would be a problem. Nobody would blink if we paid fifty credits an hour but you’re right. The regs are silent on the terms of the contract. I’m not even sure we’d need to prove we had a need for the labor or that they performed any.” He shrugged.

  “It’s our company. You’re CEO. It’s our labor. Our ship.”

  “Yeah, but it’s their orbital,” Al said.

  “No help for it now,” the chief said. “How are we going to do this?”

  “Crew comes aboard at 0800, those who’ve accepted,” I said. “I think it’s what? Twenty-one? Deck and engineering.”

  “Something like that,” Pip said.

  “So, seven teams of three. Four aft in engineering and three forward for berthing, bridge, and passages?”

  “And how many day workers per?” the chief asked.

  “What would make sense? I can’t see twenty people trying to clean the berthing area. They wouldn’t have room to swing a dead mop,” I said. “Ten?”

  “So seventy day workers at a time gives us about five or six rounds before we run out of labor,” Pip said. “What could go wrong?”

  The chief shook her head. “No, we’re going at this backwards. We don’t want the most number of people in the ship at a time. We want the smoothest flow of people through the ship.”

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  She waved a hand. “We got the mess deck cleared away. This should be our staging area. One of our crew teams should be assigned to orientation. So, they go pick up ten day workers, give them a trot through the ship stem to stern and back again. Take them to where they’re going to work and leave them with the crew team there. They go pick up another ten and repeat it. We can swap around that duty once a stan or so.”

  “Yeah, that would get old,” Pip said.

  “By the time they’ve gotten the other five groups working, they get the first group and escort them off the ship.”

  “How long for the orientation tour?” I asked, trying to estimate it.

  “We can time it tomorrow and fine tune,” Al said.

  I looked to the chief. “How long is VSI?” I asked.

  “On this ship? No more than half a stan. Generally closer to fifteen ticks.”

  “And that’s a slow walk. Let’s start with a ten-tick tour. Bring them here. A little welcome. Take them up to the bridge. Aft to engineering. What there, chief?”

  “Main engine room. Take them down to environmental by way of the kickers. Bring them back up through power and grav, then back through the spine to berthing?”

  “Makes sense, then off to their assigned duty station. Give them a few ticks to clean?”

  “If we follow that pattern, they’ll be cleaning for a stan and a half, just waiting for the tour guide group to make a cycle.”

  “That feels awful fast to me,” Pip said. “I don’t know that I could walk that path in ten ticks, let alone see anything along the way. We need to move more people through the tour faster or we’ll be here the rest of the month. Sixty a stan is over six stans to get them all through.”

  “All right,” I said. “A hundred a stan is still going to be four stans to get them through.”

  Pip started chuckling. “Even if they only actually work a quarter stan, that’s a lot of labor.”

  “Are we making it too hard?” Al asked.

  “Maybe,” the chief said.

  “At the core of this isn’t actually cleaning the ship, is it?” she asked.

  “No,” I said with a shake of my head.

  “Anything we can do will be a plus but I don’t really feel like babysitting four hundred day workers who’re only going to give us a few ticks of labor each.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking we put a couple of buckets of soapy water along the way and have them clean while on tour. Drag a sponge along the bulkhead as they walk. Maybe hand out some swabs so they can run the swab along the ceiling.” She shrugged. “Walk them in. Show them around. Even if they never touch the bulkhead, we’re ahead of the game because we’re spending next to nothing and four hundred people slopping soapy water around will go a long way. Especially down in berthing. Then walk them out and swap them for the next group.”

  “Won’t that leave more of a mess?” I asked.

  “Than what we have now?” she asked. “Really?”

  “I’m just thinking of the liability if somebody slips on the deck.”

  “Add a waiver to the contract,” Pip said. “You ever read yours?”

  I shook my head.

  “If it’s a problem we just send one or two of our boys and girls out to run a fast damp swab around the corners and pick up the drips. Twenty people running
field day routines shouldn’t take forever. By this time tomorrow, the tour’s done. The ship’s had a bit of a spiff. We can get back to getting ready to fly her to Dree,” Al said.

  I looked around the table.

  The chief nodded. “I like it. We’ll have more cleaning to do after that, but some of it I wouldn’t want a day worker doing anyway.”

  Al nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. I don’t really like the idea of turning people loose with wet sponges on the bridge.”

  Pip shrugged. “Seems likely to me. Meets all our goals and gets out from under the riot potential.”

  “That’s what we’ll do then. Break our boys and girls into pairs tomorrow. One to lead and one to keep stragglers from straggling. A couple people spare, maybe, to relieve the walkers and keep the soap buckets full,” I said.

  “Who do you want to stay aboard tonight, Cap’n?” Al asked.

  “I will.” I glanced at the chrono. “I’ve got a spare sponge and I’ll get a bucket from the galley. If I order a mattress now, I can probably have the rack ready to take it by the time it gets here.”

  “How many do we need?” the chief asked. “I bet they’re all the same size. I’m not above cleaning my own stateroom.”

  “The cabin, three mates, cargo, engineering, and steward,” I said. “There’s another one that’s named something like supercargo on the plans but we always called it the VIP room on the Tinker. Don’t remember ever using it.”

  Al stood and tossed back her coffee before slotting the empty. “Let’s go see what we need, then. No reason to rent a bed if we have one here.”

  I let them go ahead and took a detour through the galley for some cleaning gear.

  Sharps and Franklin had their heads together over one of the work counters but stood when I entered.

  “What’s our status, Ms. Sharps?”

  “You found the coffee,” she said with a grin. “We were just trying to figure out what we needed to do next. We’ve got one freezer unit and one dry-goods storage cleaned. They were mostly just empty and dusty. There’s a bit of expired food in the other freezer and some canned goods in the other storage. We’ll need to dispose of that and we can get it cleaned.”

  “So you’ve got room to bring in some fresh stores?”

  “Yes, sar. Do you have any preferences in terms of menu?”

  “I’m partial to food in adequate quantities. I like it when it’s not too much of the same thing all the time, but I confess to being a creature of habit. I like my eggs in the morning, but I’m happy to eat almost anything placed in front of me.”

  She seemed a little nonplussed by my answer.

  “Put together some simple menus, Ms. Sharps. You know better than I do how to rotate them to keep them fresh and still not need to stock an entire grocery store to make them.”

  “How far out should I plan, Captain?”

  “I expect we’ll be tied up here for at least another few days. I’d like to be underway within a week. The trip to Dree should be something around eight or nine weeks. Do you have storage for four months?”

  “Easily, sar.”

  “Get us stocked up for four months, then. Use a head count of thirty for your projections. I’ll leave the menu planning and replenishment orders to your discretion.” I shrugged. “You’re more familiar than I with what’s needed to keep the crew fed and relatively happy at meal time. Do that and we’ll be fine.”

  “Sounds good, Captain. Would you like to approve the menus before I order?”

  “I’d really rather not. Delight me with your choices, Ms. Sharps.”

  “Thank you, sar. I’ll do my best.” She paused. “Can I ask how soon we can move aboard?”

  “Our skeleton crew will be here in the morning. I’m hoping we’ll all be able to stay aboard by tomorrow night. I want to get us on a port-side watch schedule tomorrow, so plan on a simple lunch mess tomorrow and a hot meal for dinner. After that, full rotation. Ms. Adams should be here to help by then.”

  Sharps and Franklin shared a glance and Franklin shrugged.

  “Thank you, sar. We can handle that,” she said.

  “If I didn’t think you could, you wouldn’t be here, Ms. Sharps.” I smiled. “But I have one request?”

  “Certainly, Captain.”

  “I need some cleaning gear so I can get the cabin put together. A bucket, swab, broom, some cleanser? Mind if I help myself?”

  “Of course not, Captain. You’re paying for it.” She grinned.

  I chuckled and set to rummaging around in the stores closet. I stacked what I needed in an empty pail and grabbed a swab and broom. I stopped on my way out of the galley. “Oh, by the way, Ms. Sharps. As division head, you have a stateroom in officer’s country. You knew that, right?”

  Her eyebrows wagged up and down. “I didn’t actually think about it, Captain. I just assumed I’d be in the berthing area with the rest of the crew.”

  “It’s not much of a privilege, Ms. Sharps, but it comes with the rank. The good news is that you’ve got a bit of privacy and you’re sharing a head with an empty stateroom, unless that’s the one Mr. Carstairs claimed.” I lifted the bucket of cleaning gear. “The bad news is that you’ll have to clean it before you can move in. We’ll order your mattress and bedding this afternoon with the rest, but everything else is up to you.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” I said. “I’m guessing you’ll more than earn it before we’re done.”

  I shouldered the door aside and climbed up to the cabin. It wasn’t as big as the one on the Agamemnon, but that meant I had a lot less to clean. I checked the bunk frame for size and passed the information to Pip before pulling out the broom and getting busy.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Breakall Orbital:

  2374, August 10

  When we’d flown the Chernyakova in from the Dark, I’d slept with the rest of the crew down in the berthing area. Waking in the cabin felt so natural, I barely registered the change. It only took me a few ticks to do the needful and get into a fresh shipsuit. I still had some work to do before I could hang up my license, but my skin didn’t crawl when I sat at the console to work on reports.

  The chrono had just clicked over to 0545 when I left the cabin and headed for the galley. My thought had been to get an urn of coffee going, but soon I was following the heady aroma of fresh baked bread and coffee as if it had me by the nose.

  I found the chief sitting at a table with a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Captain.”

  “You’re up early, Chief.” I grabbed a mug and paused to sniff the air coming out of the galley before filling it.

  “I’m not the only one.” She smiled.

  Franklin stuck his head out of the galley door. “We’ll have some breakfast ready at 0600, sars, if either of you want it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Franklin,” I said. “That would be fine.”

  The chief saluted me with her mug. “You’re lucky with crew, I’ll give you that.”

  I slipped into the seat across from her and grinned. “I prefer to think of it as recognizing the best in people and giving them the wherewithal to rise to it.”

  “Did you read that in a management book?”

  “Second year at the academy,” I said.

  She laughed. “Sounded like it.”

  “Mostly I’ve been lucky.” I couldn’t help thinking of the times I hadn’t been.

  “So, we’ve got crew coming in at 0800?”

  “I’m hoping some of them come in earlier,” I said. “The acceptance was for 0800.”

  “And you told the day workers 0900?”

  “I’m hoping a stan will be enough to get our people up to speed. We shouldn’t have to give tours to the crew. Almost all of them have Barbell experience, and other than the Burleson drive, this ship is the spitting image of the Tinker.”

  “True.” She sighed. “I’ll be glad when we can get her cleared away and off the dock.”

  “
You and me both.” I took a sip of coffee. “Remind me of this, the next time I start shooting my mouth off about getting civilians on board.”

  She laughed. “I will if I can. I wasn’t close enough to stop you this time.”

  Al came down the passage. “Do I smell fresh bread?”

  “Breakfast mess at 0600 according to Mr. Franklin.”

  “We’re never going to get those day workers off the ship,” she said with a mock frown. She grabbed a mug of coffee and joined us at the table.

  “Pip went ashore?” the chief asked.

  “Yeah. He’ll pack what’s left in the room and check out. We’ll be staying aboard until we get underway.”

  “I checked out this morning, too,” the chief said. “I’ll be here.”

  “I need to do that today,” Al said. “It was so late by the time I got the stateroom together, I just fell into the bunk.” She lowered her face to her shoulder and sniffed loudly. “Nobody can smell me over the ship, I hope.”

  “I think you’ll be fine,” the chief said after leaning over and giving Al a sniff. “Smells like disinfectant. You’ll fit right in before this day is over.”

  Mr. Franklin stepped up to the pass-through and opened the top door. “Good morning, sars. Breakfast mess is being served.”

  I stood and took my place in line, delighted to find they’d set up a simple omelet station. A shiny new four-slice toaster was on display behind the counter. “Ham, cheese, onion, and mushroom if you have it, Mr. Franklin.”

  “Two or three eggs, sar?”

  “Three. I have a feeling it’ll be a long time until dinner.”

  He grinned and started my omelet before turning to the chief behind me.

  I stepped into the galley door while Mr. Franklin assembled our meals. “My compliments, Ms. Sharps. What time did you get up to get fresh bread going?”

  She looked up from her work table. “I set it to proof last night. Came down after setting up my stateroom and set up the loaf pans. Tossed it in the oven at 0430 when I made coffee.”

  “It’s going to be a long day,” I said.

  She swiped her brow with the back of her wrist. “I’m used to it, Captain. When we get this day-worker business settled and get to some kind of regular schedule, it’ll be much easier. Particularly with Adams and Franklin to help.”