Inadvertent Adventures

by Jones, Loren K.

  They were sipping their beers in companionable silence when a body suddenly crashed down on their table, spilling their drinks and slamming them into the wall. Denise caught a glimpse of red ship’s coverall with yellow sleeves before another red coverall with green sleeves caught her attention.

  “Bastard!” the green-sleeved man shouted as he brought a foot up to stomp on the other.

  “Sorry piece o’ shit!” the yellow-sleeved man shouted as he clawed his way up from the floor. A knife appeared in his hand, and he crouched.

  The other man also had a knife, and the two started circling, swiping at one another, trapping Denise and Olaf against the wall with their fight. A wild swipe by Green Sleeves caught Denise on the arm, and she screamed in pain as her bicep was cut.

  Yellow Sleeves took a wild swipe that ended up cutting the belly of Olaf’s coverall. That was enough for Olaf. He moved forward and clubbed Yellow Sleeves on the back of the head with a beer mug, then the handle broke off the mug when he hit Green Sleeves in the forehead. Both went down immediately, but not before Green Sleeves had left a second slice in front of Olaf’s coverall.

  “I need a medic over here!” Olaf shouted as he went to Denise. She was clutching her arm, and he grabbed her hands. “Let me see, sweetheart.”

  “Stupid damn assholes,” Denise muttered. “Damn bar-fight. Not a knife duel.”

  Two security officers arrived about then and surveyed the destruction. “Who started it?” one asked.

  “That one,” Olaf replied, pointing at green sleeves.

  “Who ended it?” the other officer asked.

  “I did when that one,” he pointed at green sleeves again, “cut my wife.”

  The officers nodded and grabbed the two offenders, dragging them to their feet and forcing them to walk away as two paramedics arrived.

  “Who got hurt?” the paramedics asked, and were directed to where Denise was still sitting on the floor. They both knelt and the one on Denise’s right examined the wound. “Not too deep. We can close it with surgical glue and butterfly tape.”

  “How much?” Denise asked through gritted teeth.

  “Fifty credits,” the second one answered.

  Denise nodded and they went to work. In just five minutes she was patched up and ready to go. “There you are. Your husband already paid, so we’ll be off.” The medics gathered their stuff and left Olaf helped Denise up from the floor. She froze when she saw the front of his coverall.

  “Olaf, are you hurt?” she asked, suddenly much more concerned about him than anything else.

  Olaf followed her gaze and felt his coverall. “I didn’t even notice. Lords of Space, those knives must have been razor sharp.” He felt around on his belly and brought his hand out with just a trace of red on one finger. “Looks like one of them nicked me, but not bad. We’ll treat it as soon as we get back to the ship.”

  “I’ll lead the way, Olaf,” she said in a soft tone. “Just stay close behind me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been sitting in spilled beer for half an hour and my butt is soaked. I probably look like I pissed my pants.”

  Olaf wisely didn’t laugh.

  Chapter 10

  THE CREW INTERVIEWS TOOK SIX DAYS to complete, but in the end they had their full compliment. A retired Master Chief Boatswain’s Mate named Raka Aswalan had signed on as Load Master. A young former Storekeeper’s Mate Second Class named Carrie-Marie Chanticlair had taken the position of Supply Officer and Head Cook. Quartermaster’s Mate First Class Bartholomew (Black Bart) Roberts was brought in as Denise’s assistant. A young and recently discharged lieutenant named Amanda (Mandy) Carter was given the position of Second Mate. Sterling’s reaction to her had earned him a kick under the table from his wife. Chief Machinist’s Mate Balder Pastulka and Senior Chief Electrician’s Mate Thomas Oslund took the Second and Third Engineer’s slots under Olaf.

  Ann addressed her crew in the wardroom once everyone had reported aboard. “I would like to take the time to let you get to know one another before we get under way, but that isn’t possible. We have a contract to deliver fifteen thousand tons of machinery to the Avalon Agricultural Colony on Arratu Edin.” She paused as everyone digested that information.

  “We’ll probably be shipping foodstuffs out. That’s Arratu Edin’s main export. Engineering, I want you to verify the refrigeration and freezing capacity in the holds. We can’t anticipate what we’ll be hauling, so I want to be ready to haul anything. All hands prepare to load the ship. Dismissed.”

  The crew went to their stations, with Olaf and his engineers joining Raka in the cargo decks to begin checking the refrigeration units. Fortunately for everyone, the Admiral Ann’s Revenge had automated loading equipment that allowed Raka to handle the cargo by himself without ever leaving his chair. Ann and Sterling verified the shipping seals on each crate with the Avalon representative before it went aboard. Some were so large that the shuttle would have had a hard time holding them, even though all were within the size and weight limits of the little ship. Fortunately, Arratu Edin had very good orbital facilities.

  The final crate was loaded aboard and securely stowed, and the hatches sealed before Ann addressed the crew again. “Attention all hands: Prepare to undock. All hands stand by for acceleration in one minute.”

  Ann was in the captain’s chair, with Sterling to her right and Denise to her left. “Navigator, lay in our course to Arratu Edin. First Mate, take the helm and begin our departure sequence. We have a clear window of departure in two minutes. Let’s not miss it.”

  “Aye, aye, Ma’am,” Sterling and Denise both said and the throaty rumble of the maneuvering thrusters made the old ship shiver. Slowly, like an ancient ship of sail, the Admiral Ann’s Revenge pushed away from the dock and turned her nose toward the stars.

  *

  The voyage through hyperspace was turning into a long one, and Sterling started noticing that the crew didn’t really fit together all that well. Raka was an old-time authoritarian, and his years in uniform had left a definite mark on him. He wanted things his way, and by Allah, he was going to get them.

  Olaf’s engineers had both been senior noncommissioned officers, and tended to back Raka when there was an argument. Olaf had only been a Second Class Petty Officer and they tended to side together against him as well.

  Amanda and Carrie-Marie were close enough to the same age and background that they formed a fast friendship. Bart hovered on the edges, sometimes included and other times excluded, but always laughing and teasing the girls like a brother.

  Of course, all of the new crewmembers knew that the four core officers were a united force, and none of them tried to intrude on that closeness.

  Carrie-Marie and Mandy were the first to come to Sterling with complaints about Raka. “Sir, we know he’s senior, but this isn’t a Navy ship, and he wasn’t an officer,” Mandy said while Carrie-Marie stood behind her shoulder nodding. “We’re not his crew to boss around.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s ordering us around like his ratings. Get this. Do that. I want this mess ship-shape. And it’s none of his damn business what my clothes look like. There’s no reg, even in the Navy, that says my coveralls have to be baggy and concealing.”

  Sterling sighed and brought both hands up in front of his chest. “I’ll talk to him, but you already know that he’s set in his ways. I think he misses the Navy more than he wants to admit.”

  “Sir, I didn’t have to put up with that crap from chiefs in the Navy,” Mandy pointed out.

  “And you don’t have to now,” Sterling assured her. He went to the Load Master’s office and found Raka with Thom Oslund. The conversation that he heard as he walked up made him pause in the passageway.

  “Those two will not do at all, Thomas. We must make it clear to the captain that they must be replaced. They are not a good match to this crew.”

  “No, they’re not, Raka. That twit Carter is bad enough. Saw he
r kind in the Navy too often. But that stuck-up little bitch, Carrie-Marie—”

  “That’ll be enough of that, both of you,” Sterling said as he stepped to the doorway. “I’m not even going to pretend I didn’t just hear you two belittling your shipmates.”

  “Mister Stevenson, I didn’t know you were out there—” Thomas began, but Sterling waved him silent.

  “I don’t know or care what your problem with the women is, but you’d best get over it.” He focused on Raka as he continued. “If there’s a problem, you’ll be leaving. Not them. Is that clear?”

  “Those two do not—”

  “What they do or don’t isn’t your business, Raka,” Sterling snapped. “You’re Load Master, not Command Master Chief.”

  “I will speak to the captain of this. Regulations clearly state—”

  “Those regulations are no longer applicable,” Sterling interrupted once again. “Even in the Navy you didn’t have the right to decide uniform standards. The captain decides, and she approves of the women’s uniforms.” Sterling leaned forward to stare Raka in the eye. “And if you think my wife is going to overrule me, think again. Ann never was a stickler for those regulations.”

  “It is indecent,” Raka snarled. “They dress like harlots.”

  “On your home world, that may be true. On mine, they’re overdressed. How did you survive twenty years in the Navy with that attitude?”

  “I served on ships of the Sultanate, from Mecca or Al-Kuds. Only once did I have to serve on a non-Sultanate ship, and it nearly drove me from the Navy.”

  Sterling shook his head and sighed. “We should have seen that. Raka, let me make this clear: You have no authority outside the cargo decks. If I hear one more complaint about you from anyone, I’ll talk to the captain about putting you off at the next stop. As for you, Thom, I have to wonder why you’re up here and not in engineering.”

  “I’m off shift, Mate,” Thomas replied.

  “And what is your complaint about the women, or should I even bother to ask?” Thomas stood mute and started at the floor. “I thought so. Let me remind you that you are on equal footing with those women. If they say no, they mean no. If I hear of even one instance of you pushing the issue, you’re gone. You may both consider yourselves to have received an official warning. You won’t get a second one.”

  Raka spoke in a harsh whisper as he said, “I will not stay on such a ship.”

  Sterling looked him in the eyes once again. “We hit Arratu Edin in seventeen days. You will be free to leave the ship there.”

  “And you will have no Load Master. You will not be able to leave once I am gone.” Raka smiled smugly, but Sterling just grinned.

  “Denise, Olaf, and I all have Load Master Certificates. We’ll do just fine without you.” With that, Sterling turned and made his way forward.

  Ann was in her chair in the control room when he arrived. “We need a new Load Master, Captain,” he reported. “Raka’s religious sensibilities are offended by the uniforms the women are wearing and he won’t stay on such a ship.”

  “Noted. I wasn’t happy with him to begin with, but he did have the experience.”

  “I’ll take Load Master. Rotate Mandy into First Mate until we can find a replacement.”

  “Once we reach Arratu Edin.” Ann rubbed her temples. “We knew it wasn’t going to be easy.”

  *

  Arratu Edin was a garden planet by most standards. Oceans covered just fifty-six percent of the surface, and it had a very slight axial tilt: only eleven degrees. That made for a remarkably stable climate. The best feature of the planet, as far as the human settlers were concerned, was that Terran crops thrived in the soil and many native plants were not only edible, but highly nutritious and delicious.

  Fully fifty percent of the available land area was devoted to agriculture. Terran crops could be grown adjacent to Arratuan crops. Orbital facilities for loading cargo ships with grain and other foods surrounded the planet, and it was to one of the smaller docks that the Admiral Ann’s Revenge was directed.

  Raka was standing by the personnel hatch with a sour expression on his face as they docked. Ann was right behind him. “As soon as we clear Customs and Station Health, get out and don’t come back,” she said as she stood in the inner hatch.

  “You will regret this, Captain,” Raka snarled. “Such an insult can never be forgiven.”

  “Blow it out your ass, Raka,” Ann snapped. “We gave you a chance and you blew it by trying to impose your culture on us. I’d suggest that you be either more tolerant or more careful in choosing your next assignment.”

  “We’ve already paid you what we expect the crew shares to be,” Sterling said from behind her shoulder. “We also aren’t listing that you are being dismissed from this ship. I changed your status to ‘Working your way home’ so you can more easily get a berth on another vessel.”

  Raka just glared at them silently until the signal came that they could open their hatch. Then he cycled the outer airlock door open and stepped out. He walked away without a backward glance and vanished into the crowd.

  Ann had followed common practice and registered for another cargo as soon as they entered the system. Once the hold was empty and vacuumed clean, a man in the suit of the Caravan Carriers walked up to her and bowed. “Lady Captain, I am Ali Mohamed Shariff, Consignment Director of Caravan Carriers. We have a twenty thousand ton shipment of assorted grains going to Tiamat’s Landing on Marduk, in the Ea System. That is, I believe, the cargo capacity of your class ship.”

  “It is, but we have a thousand ton shuttle for planetary deliveries. We can only carry nineteen thousand tons of cargo,” Ann answered.

  “Ah, I see. A moment, please.” He flipped open a large, almost archaic looking MemoBook and started searching through his files. After just a few moments he looked up and smiled. “I have a fifteen thousand ton consignment going to the asteroid mining colony over in Chin Paradise. It’s only a fifteen light year voyage.”

  “And what is our margin on this consignment?” Ann asked warily. Consignment was a double edged sword that could cut the legs off a ship if the captain wasn’t careful.

  “Five percent,” the man said with a smile.

  Ann frowned. “That probably wouldn’t cover our fuel, much less give us a profit. Ten percent, or nothing.”

  “Nothing then,” the man said in an offended tone. “We do not pay extortion to such minor shippers as you.”

  “Such is our life,” Ann said and turned away.

  It was six hours later when another shipper approached them. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Captain Stevenson of the Admiral Ann’s Revenge. Is he here?”

  “She is right there,” Sterling said, pointing to Ann.

  “Oh, forgive me,” the man said, obviously flustered to have made such a basic mistake. He walked over to Ann and cleared his throat. “Captain Stevenson, I understand that you are in need of a cargo.”

  “We are,” Ann agreed. “What do you have and how much of it?”

  “Proto-beets, one of Arratu Edin’s most nutritious native plants,” he said proudly. “There is an assortment of other food stuffs as well. I have seventeen thousand tons going to the Erin Combine’s shipyard in the Dragon system. It is a straight payment of fifty-thousand credits on arrival. I heard that you didn’t like CC’s percentage, so I wrote the contract out as straight fee rather than percentage. Payment on arrival. Is that acceptable?”

  “It is,” Ann said and the man handed over a ‘Pad for her signature.

  “I will have the shipment brought over immediately. Good day, Captain.” With that he left the ship, hurrying away and talking into his wrist communicator.

  The shipment started arriving within fifteen minutes. Crate after crate of knobby tubers the size of soccer balls were brought in and taken to the hold by the Revenge’s cranes. Crates of bagged grains and other vegetables quickly followed.

  Denise and Olaf were there to help supervise the loading process a
nd Olaf had to grin as he said, “Beats the hell out of loading beets on the Jane, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes it does, Olaf. Yes it does. But sometimes I miss the cranky old bitch.”

  Olaf put his arm around her shoulder. “So do I, Denise. Sometimes I miss that little ship more than I miss Jerry and Will.”

  Denise smiled sadly up at him, then turned and went to control. She was letting Bart plot the course to the Dragon system, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to verify everything he was doing. Navigation was, after all, her responsibility.

  Chapter 11

  THE ADMIRAL ANN’S REVENGE LEFT ARRATU EDIN’S orbit nine hours later with a full hold. Even the shuttle’s cargo bay had been loaded when the bulk exceeded the capacity of the Revenge.

  This was the heaviest load they had so far carried, and Sterling was taking it easy on the ship as they accelerated out of the system. Olaf called up to Control three hours into the voyage. “Engineering to Control. All systems are nominal. If you want to open her up, she’s ready.”

  “Mister Stevenson,” Captain Ann said in a silky purr, “you may give the engines a full power test whenever you are ready.”

  “Full power test in three, two, one, mark,” he said, pushing the engine power setting on his controls to one hundred percent. The ship shivered and the apparent gravity on board increased as engines that were designed to move half again the Revenge’s mass shoved her toward the stars. “We will hit point one C in three days at this rate.”

  “How much extra is this costing us in fuel?” Ann asked. It was the first time she’d ever worried about fuel economy, but, then again, the Navy used to pay for it all, not her.

  “It expends about ten percent more fuel than maintaining fifty percent like we have been doing,” Sterling replied.

  “Cut your engines back to fifty percent, then, Mister Stevenson. No sense in wasting our profit on showing off, but it’s comforting to know she can do that if needed.” Ann smiled as Sterling throttled back and the pressure on her chest eased.