by Marko Kloos
“What did you ask him?” Tess wanted to know.
“Whether he learned Oceanian in the military. It was too good for a language school. Too smooth and fluent. You have to go to a government school for that. Diplomatic service, military, that sort of thing.”
“And did he tell you any details?”
Aden shook his head.
“He was vague about it. But I’m sure he used to be an operative. I mean, there are lots of good language schools out there. But how many people do you know who went to one of those and then went on to be experts in hand-to-hand and knife fighting?”
“War’s been over five years,” Decker said.
“People have to make a living,” Maya said. “War may be over but fighting skills are always marketable. So he’s a ronin.”
“Ronin,” Aden repeated.
“A samurai without a master. A sword for hire.”
Someone ascended the staircase from the lower deck and approached them. He was dressed in vestment robes, and a shawl with a repeating wave pattern hung around his neck and reached almost all the way down to his ankles.
“We have reached the place for the ceremony,” he said to them. “We can begin whenever you are ready.”
“Thank you,” Decker said, and he nodded and walked away again.
“I didn’t realize we were going for a specific spot on the ocean,” Maya said.
“Tristan was born on Meander,” Decker replied. “It’s the only city that changes latitude over the course of the year. To simulate seasons. The other ones all stay in the middle of the temperate zone. This is where Meander was on the day and hour Tristan was born. He wanted to be back here after he died.”
“Well.” Tess got up from her seat and straightened out the flow of her garment. “Then let us go and give the man what he wanted.”
They gathered on the stern of the ship, where a semicircular platform jutted out over the water. The platform was big enough for all of them without feeling crowded. Other than the priest of the Church of the Ocean, there was only one person who wasn’t a Zephyr crew member, and he stood at the back of the little crowd, keeping a respectful distance. Aden glanced at him from time to time as the priest went through the beginning of the ceremony. The other man was an older fellow, round faced and a little portly, and he wiped his balding head frequently with a small silk towel that glistened with moisture.
Tristan’s ashes were in a little white bowl on a small dais right in front of the platform’s guardrail. They all took turns walking up to the dais. The Oceanian way to say goodbye was a low-key and private one. Everyone said their last words to their friends and relatives quietly, with the rest of the small congregation six meters behind. Captain Decker stepped up and said her words, then took some of the ashes out of the bowl. She held out her hand and let the wind blow them out of the palm of her white glove and off the stern of the ship. She walked back to the group, and Tess took her turn.
Tess’s flowing white tunic had no sleeves, and the vivid colors of the tattoos on her arms stood out against the almost monochrome setting, providing a vibrant contrast. She walked to the dais and did her own version of the ritual, holding the handful of ashes up in front of her face and whispering to it. Then she extended her hand over the edge of the platform and turned it upside down in a slow and steady motion to disperse the ashes.
Next came Maya, who looked slight and small in her Oceanian tunic. When she walked past, Aden saw with surprise that she had tears streaming down her cheeks. It was the first time he had ever seen a profound expression of emotion from her, more than she had shown in all of the three months he’d been on the ship. Unlike the others, she knelt before the dais and said a prayer before she took her handful of ashes. She spoke briefly, then scattered them into the winds with a slow wave of her hand that looked like she was bidding Tristan a final farewell.
Then it was Aden’s turn to walk up to the dais. It seemed like he could feel the weight of the looks from the others on his back as he made his way to the little white bowl with measured steps. The small pile of gray ashes in the center of the bowl looked like nothing that reminded him of Tristan.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry you are gone. And I’m sorry I never got to tell you the truth about me. Maybe we would have been friends still. I’m sorry I’ll never get to find out.”
He took a handful of the ashes and held them in his fist.
“I won’t say we will meet again someday because I know you didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Thank you for your kindness. I’ll take that ride down the beanstalk to Pallas one day and think of you all the way. Goodbye, Tristan.”
Aden let the ashes trickle into the breeze from the bottom of his fist, slow at first and then faster as he opened his hand gradually, until they were all gone except for a smudge of tiny grains that stuck to the palm of his glove. It seemed like a wholly inadequate way to say farewell to a friend, but he supposed there was no ceremony that could lessen the hurt of the loss, knowing that someone who was breathing and laughing and smiling just a little while ago was now gone from the universe, transformed into energy and gas molecules and a little pile of calcium and carbon dust.
When he returned to the group, the unknown stranger took his turn. He walked to the dais, spoke a few quiet words, and sprinkled a little bit of Tristan’s ashes over the edge of the railing. On his way back, he looked at the group and offered a brief smile.
The priest had the task of scattering what remained, which he did with solemnity. He carried the now empty bowl past them, covered up by one of the ends of his vestment shawl, and disappeared in the covered lounge behind the stern deck.
They stood in thought for a little while. The stranger offered no word of condolence or explanation, obviously intent on not intruding. Then Maya wiped her face and walked over to the lounge as well. After a few moments, Tess followed her. With the fellowship of the crew temporarily broken, Aden turned to the stranger.
“Are you kin to Tristan?”
The stranger shook his head and wiped his forehead with the silk cloth he had pulled from his pocket again.
“Augustus Bosch. I was a friend of Tristan’s. He has no living family.” He looked at Decker, who had walked up next to Aden.
“I’m sorry,” Aden said. “Did you know him for a long time?”
Bosch nodded. “Thirty-five years. We went to school together. I was also his solicitor for the last thirty years or so.”
He offered his hand to Captain Decker, who shook it.
“Ronja Decker,” she said. “I am the captain of Zephyr. Tristan was a member of my crew.”
“Yes, I know,” Bosch said. “I came to pay my respects to Tristan, of course. But you are part of the reason why I am here.”
“Is that so?” Decker asked. She exchanged a look with Aden, but he couldn’t tell from her expression whether that fact concerned her in any way.
Bosch nodded solemnly.
“Can we find a cool place to sit? Inside, perhaps? You, me, and the rest of your crew, I mean.”
They gathered around a lounge table on the panoramic deck of the yacht. The attendants brought everyone drinks, and one of them put platters of light snacks on the table, which nobody touched.
“I told him a while ago that he was getting a bit too old for this business,” Bosch said. “Flitting around among the planets. Drinking in bars on orbital stations with that rough crowd.”
“That’s what he enjoyed,” Aden said.
“Oh, I know. Much better than you may think.”
He looked at each of them in turn.
“I am Master Dorn’s solicitor. As such, I am also the executor of his will, which he has requested to make known to you as soon as possible after his passing.”
“Tristan had a will,” Tess said. “The man who carried all his stuff in a single bag.”
“Those were his worldly possessions,” Bosch said. “They did not reflect the totality of his holdings.”
�
�His holdings,” Decker repeated. “You mean his cut of Zephyr’s operating profits. Whatever he stashed away over the years.”
Bosch looked at Captain Decker, and there was a little smile playing in the corner of his mouth. Whatever he was about to tell them, he was clearly enjoying the opportunity to do so.
“I am not just here on Master Dorn’s behalf. I am also here to act as the official agent for the Zephyr Consortium.”
Decker let out a breath and sank back in her chair.
“Here we go. I was wondering when we’d hear from them. The ship’s not served a contract in a month. If we don’t count the one that got us all here today.”
“Captain Decker,” Bosch said. “Tristan Dorn was the sole proprietor and stockholder of the Zephyr Consortium.”
Maya coughed up the sip of beverage she had just taken.
“He was what?” Decker said.
“He owned the consortium. All of it. He was your employer. He went to great lengths to keep that a secret.”
“I’d say he fucking did,” Tess said. “That cheeky little bastard.”
“I’m afraid you are right,” Bosch said to Aden. “Being out in space among you all was his joy. It was what he wanted to do with his life. But he did not want to be thought of as anything but ordinary.”
“Tristan was never ordinary,” Aden said.
Bosch rewarded his statement with a smile. He shook his arm to clear the fabric of his tunic from his wrist device and tapped it to activate a screen in front of him.
“It is the will of Master Tristan Dorn that upon his death, the ownership and legal liabilities of the Zephyr Consortium are transferred in full to the surviving crew serving upon OMV Zephyr at the time of his passing, to be divided equally. That includes all consortium shares, accumulated operating profits, and of course the ship itself.”
They all looked at each other in utter disbelief. Then Maya let out a laugh that morphed into a sob.
“You have got to be joking,” Decker said.
Bosch shook his head.
“If Tristan were here, he could confirm to you that I am not generally the joking type.”
“He was the consortium?” Tess asked. “All this time?”
“He set it up when he purchased the ship three years ago. He was very adamant about keeping it anonymous.”
“All this time,” Tess repeated. “He kept us in the dark for three years. While we were chasing contracts and hopping from spaceport to spaceport, our boss was chopping peppers and brewing coffee in the galley.”
“As often as we got drunk together, I am amazed that he never let any of that slip out even once,” Decker said with a smile. She looked at Aden. “Remember when you said you had a feeling Tristan would prank us one last time? This is the biggest one he’s ever pulled.”
“And he didn’t even get to see our faces this time,” Tess said.
“What about the liabilities?” Decker asked Bosch. “How much will we still owe in payments on the ship? And how does the consortium account look?”
“The ship is paid off already,” Bosch said. “Master Dorn purchased it outright from Tanaka Spaceworks as a special order. The title is free and clear. And as for the consortium finances—”
He brought up a page on his comtab screen and let it float into the middle of the table for everyone to see.
“It’s not a vast fortune. The operating costs of the ship are considerable. But as you can see, it’s not a trivial amount either, even after splitting it five ways. If that is what you choose to do.”
“I shouldn’t be in the equation,” Aden said. “I’ve only been on the crew for a little over three months. I haven’t earned a share.”
“Master Dorn’s will does not name anyone directly. Nor does it specify any other conditions, like length of employment. It merely says that the ship and the consortium are to be divided among the individuals who are members of the crew at the time of his death. You may refuse the inheritance share, of course. But you are eligible.”
Bosch closed the screen and folded his hands in his lap.
“I realize that none of you will want to rush such a momentous decision. And there is absolutely no rush. The docking fees and business dues are being covered by the consortium account. Just be aware that the account will run dry eventually. If your intent is to liquidate the consortium and divide the proceeds, you should probably act as soon as you come to an agreement to maximize your respective shares.”
He got up and nodded at the group.
“I am sure you have some talking to do after getting that surprise sprung on you. I will leave you to it. You have my contact information on your comtabs if you need advice or legal guidance. Good day, and my heartfelt condolences.”
They watched as Bosch walked off to the other side of the panoramic lounge, where he sat down in a chair that faced the sea on the port side of the ship.
“So what do we do now?” Decker said.
“What are the options?” Maya asked. “Not that I am in the state to make any sort of decision right now.”
“Well, we can do what he mentioned. Sell the ship and dissolve the consortium. Pay the obligations and then split what’s left five ways.”
Tess shook her head. “I’m not a fan of that idea. She’ll sell in a minute, and for a lot. But we’ll never find another ship like her.”
“And then some rich asshole is going to use her for showing off,” Maya said. “Maybe turn the galley deck into a bar. Paint over all your drawings on the engineering deck.”
“Or worse, some smuggling outfit gets their hands on her and runs half a ton of stims per week past the Rhodies and the Oceana navy at eighteen g,” Tess added. “With a military-grade Point Defense System.”
“I see you two aren’t in favor of selling the ship,” Decker said with a wry smile. “Not that I would have guessed otherwise. What about you, Aden?”
“I’m not sure I want a vote in this,” he said.
“You get one whether you want it or not. You heard the man. Even if you vote to forfeit your share. You could ask to be paid out for yours. I know I’d never be able to talk these two into selling the ship even if that’s where my mind was. But we could buy you out if you want the money.”
Aden shook his head. “If you turn everything into cash, I don’t want a share. Split it between the rest of you. Or give it to Henry.”
“Tristan would have wanted you to have it,” Decker said. “Even if he didn’t name you directly. You know how he was.”
Aden looked out of the window next to their table. Outside, the sun was glinting on the water, and the breeze was whipping the crests of the waves into white foam. He imagined Tristan’s ashes sinking below those waves right now, returned to the cycle of life and death, and the sadness and sorrow he had been feeling all day amplified until it seemed bottomless.
“He loved the ship,” he said. “Even with all his talk about not getting attached to things. He wouldn’t want us to sell her off. But he didn’t want to tie us to her either. That’s why he didn’t say we have to keep her.”
He looked at the others. “I don’t care what the lawyer says. I don’t have a right to an equal voice on this. But if you decide to sell her, I don’t want a share.”
“The other option is to keep going,” Decker said. “We do what we’ve been doing all along. Find new contracts, keep the consortium going. Maybe hire someone new, eventually.”
“That’s my vote,” Tess said immediately.
“Mine as well,” Maya said.
“I don’t really want to go back to flying bulk freighters,” Decker said. “And the money from the consortium share would run out sooner or later. I’m really bad at sitting on my ass.”
“If we keep going, I’ll take the share,” Aden said. “I’ll stay on.”
“Well,” Decker said. “That didn’t take very long to settle.”
“What about Henry?” Aden asked.
“Oh, I am pretty sure he’s going to want to kee
p the ship,” Decker said. “But if he has a change of heart, we can buy out his share.” Her facial expression left no doubt that she considered that possibility highly unlikely.
Tess let out a long breath. “I was worried I’d have to arm wrestle you all for the old girl. I sure as hell couldn’t have bought anyone out. Rest assured that I am not secretly wealthy.”
“So now what?” Decker asked. “We’ve decided to keep it all together. What do we do now?”
“We find a safe place and ride this out,” Tess suggested.
Maya leaned back in her chair and wrapped her arms around the backrest.
“I don’t know about you all,” she said. “But the place where I feel safest is docked up there right now.” She nodded at the transparent ceiling of the panoramic deck. “Nobody can sneak in. And if there’s trouble coming our way, we can run away from it at eighteen g.”
“We have to dock somewhere at some point,” Tess said. “And then we have to watch our backs again.”
Decker reached into her pocket and pulled out her comtab. She rested it on the tabletop in front of her and spun it slowly with one finger.
“I still have those coordinates,” she said. “And the contact node for the handover we were supposed to do.”
“You want to go after them?” Tess asked.
“They killed Tristan. They killed our friend. They damn near killed the rest of you. I would love a chance at payback. We can wait until they pick us off one by one. Or we can bring some trouble their way.”
“We’re not a warship,” Maya said. “We don’t even have the space for a weapons mount. Even if we could get a permit for one in a hurry.”
“We don’t need to be armed,” Aden said. “We just need to call someone who is. Someone who’s motivated to find people who trade in black-market nukes.”
Decker looked at him and nodded. “That was my thought, too.”
Tess groaned and let her shoulders droop. “Please tell me we’re not about to vote ourselves into a terrible mess again.”
“I think we’re in the mess already no matter which way we turn,” Aden said. “Maybe the best thing we can do right now is to make sure they get some of it on them, too.”
