Double Share (42 page)

“Well, sar, there are rumors—and I stress that they are only rumors—that Mr. Burnside will be in the auto-doc for the rest of the day.”

“The rest of the day? Isn’t that rather extreme?”

“He took a blow to the chest, sar, that seems to have broken three ribs and cracked two others. You may be aware, sar, that lungs and heart are located behind the ribs?”

“I had heard something to that effect, yes, Ms. D’Heng, from relatively reliable sources.”

“Yes, sar, I try not to put too much stock in unconfirmed reports, as you know,” she assured me.

“Very good policy to have, Ms. D’Heng.”

“Thank you, sar. Very nice of you to say so.”

“Ms. D’Heng? We’ll likely be in Diurnia in about nine days…” I prompted.

“Oh, yes, sar, well, the auto-doc has him latched in and sedated. It won’t release him until it’s stabilized his ribs and made sure he’s not going to stab himself from the inside.”

“And the concussion?”

“Oh, sar? Has that story made it up here already?” she turned to me, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Are you certain you two weren’t…you know…telling stories?”

“Well, the subject might have come up, but I assure you that it was inadvertent.”

She looked unconvinced but proceeded. “Yes, he has a concussion and a rather large contusion on the back of his head, but that’s a relatively minor issue.”

“Relatively,” I repeated.

“Compared to the ribs, yes, sar.”

“I see. And in any of these rumors are there any suggestions as to what may have been the cause?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, sar. According to Mr. Apones, he tripped.”

“Mr. Apones tripped?” I asked.

“No, sar, Mr. Burnside tripped.”

“And fell on his…head?”

“Oh, no, sar,” she smiled as if I were being quite funny. “On his side. That’s how he broke his ribs.”

“And the contusion on the back of his head? How did that occur?”

“Mr. Apones hasn’t offered any explanation for that, sar.”

“Has anyone else?” I asked.

“Well, there are rumors, sar.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said, after a moment, I added, “And his broken hand?”

“Mr. Apones has a broken hand, sar?”

“No, Mr. Burnside’s broken hand.”

She looked at me aghast, her eyes wide in surprise. “He has a broken hand?”

“It was just a rumor, Ms. D’Heng.”

“You should be more careful, sar. There are a lot of amateurs around. They spread all kinds of tales.”

“Thank you for that reminder, Ms. D’Heng. That will teach me to listen to amateurs,” I assured her as graciously as I could.

She sniffed in dismissal. “I should hope so. Why there’s one story making the rounds that Burnside let Apones and Mosler into your stateroom at about 00:45 this morning, in order to pound some sense into you, and get you out of their way. But instead of pounding you senseless, you managed to give them the slip and got out into the passageway in your skivvies. When Burnside found you, he took a swing and broke his left hand on the bulkhead when you ducked, and then was steamrollered by his own thugs when you stepped out of their way. They slammed him across from your stateroom, which is how he got his ribcage smashed in and that nasty bonk on the back of the head.”

I practically choked on my coffee and mentally kicked myself for drinking while Ms. D’Heng was speaking.

“Of course, that’s just a rumor, sar. There isn’t one shred of evidence to support it.” She assured me.

“Rather a detailed rumor,” I said.

“Oh, you know how people like to embroider stories, sar.”

“And you’re sure there’s no evidence?” I asked, thinking I’d tripped her up.

“Quite sure, yes, sar. It’s just a rumor.”

“I see,” I said quietly.

“Oh, sar?” she asked after a moment. “Did you know there was some kind of red smudge on the bulkhead across from your stateroom?”

“I think I saw something there this morning on my way to relieve the watch, yes,” I said. “Why?”

“Oh, well, if you saw it why didn’t you clean it up?” she asked crossly. “Aren’t you always after us to keep the ship neat and clean?”

“I suppose I should have,” I said, “but I was in a hurry to get to the bridge.”

“I understand, sar. It’s okay,” she said, her face crinkling into a smile. “I cleaned it.”

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY-SIX
D
IURNIA
S
YSTEM
2358-
N
OVEMBER-7

About 09:45 Mel, followed by Arletta and Fredi, came onto the bridge. I gave Charlotte the nod and she discretely excused herself, while the rest of us gathered in the bridge wing.

Mel looked at me with an expression that was more curiosity than concern. “Well, you’ve probably heard we have a little problem.”

“He’s locked in the auto-doc?” I asked.

Fredi’s grin was almost indecent. “Yes, and if I’m reading the diagnostic protocols correctly,” she said, “he’s going to be in there for a while until the quik-knit deals with his ribs.”

“At least overnight, and then probably confined to bed rest until we get to Diurnia,” Mel said.

She looked at me again with that “curious but I’m not going to ask” expression.

I shrugged. “Okay, so, what do we do?”

Mel made a sour face. “On a normal ship, the captain would take the watch.”

“He’s coming out of the cabin?” I asked surprised.

She shook her head. “I said on a normal ship. I reported Burnside’s condition to the captain right after breakfast. That’s why we’re here.”

I looked from face to face to face. “Arletta and I are going watch on watch?” I asked. Watch-on-watch was basically a two section rotation of twelve on and twelve off around the clock.

Fredi said, “I’m going to take over the first section.”

I gaped at her. “So, is this something you’ve always wanted to do? Stand long deck watches with potentially violent crewmen?”

She smiled. “Oh, Steve Mallory isn’t that bad, and he’s the best ship handler we have. Without Mosler and Burnside to back him up, I think we can count on Apones to toe the line.”

“Where’s Mosler?” I asked, not following the whole transaction yet.

“Mosler and Apones are confined to quarters except for meals and watch. That means Apones stays in deck berthing forward, and Mosler in engineering berthing aft. Never the twain shall meet, except on the mess deck and even then rarely,” Mel said.

“When did that happen?” I asked.

“We’re about to let them know. They’re being held on suspicion of assaulting an officer,” Mel said.

“Assaulting an officer?” I asked.

Arletta was in on it. I could tell because she was grinning, but I still hadn’t caught up to the joke.

“But there’s no proof they assaulted me,” I said.

“Who said anything about you?” Fredi asked. “Poor David is in the auto-doc. And all Mr. Apones can tell us is he tripped? I’m sorry that sounds very fishy to me.”

Arletta’s face took on an innocently agreeable look. “Me too. He and Mosler even have the marks and bruises to show that they were in some kind of scrap. Too darn coincidental if you ask me.”

Mel shrugged. “And there we have it.” She looked to me. “Are we clear?”

“Until
poor David
gets out of the auto-doc and starts raising a stink,” I pointed out.

“You leave
poor David
to me,” Mel said. “He can’t admit what really happened because then he’ll be in the soup. If he lets his stooges hang fire for a while, we’ll drop the charges when we get to port in a few days.”

I thought about it and realized that Mel had the right of it. She was senior officer present by virtue of being Chief of Engineering. She also had stanyers of experience, which only helped her credibility. Until, and unless, the captain countermanded her orders, and so long as the first mate was disabled, she held operational command. They’d drilled the chain of command into us at the academy and the sense of it was indisputable.

“Okay,” I said, “we’re clear. Welcome to the deck watch, Fredi.”

“Thank you, Ishmael. I think it will be quite fun for a few days. And, if I’m going to relieve you at midnight, I need to take care of a few things.” She smiled all around and added, “If you’ll excuse me?”

We all shrugged or nodded or both, and she picked her way delicately back off the bridge with a smile for Juliett along the way.

Mel turned to Arletta. “You’ve got the watch at noon?” she asked pointedly.

“Oh, yes, I do,” she said, taking the hint and following Fredi off the bridge.

Mel’s curiosity boiled over. “What in the name of heaven happened last night?”

I felt like I should call Charlotte up to give the recap, but I gave Mel the highlights, finishing with, “And that crash you heard was Burnside being driven into the bulkhead by Apones and Mosler.”

“No wonder he broke ribs. He’s lucky to be alive,” she said. She frowned a little looking at me, “And you didn’t get a scratch?”

“I got a bruise on my hip when I rolled off the bunk,” I said, pointing.

Her face took on an odd look for a moment. “No, don’t show me,” she said, with a short shake of her head. “They really did assault an officer. They hit him, drove him into the bulkhead, and broke his ribs. That’s just icing on the cake!”

“How did you think he got beaten up?” I asked curiously.

She grimaced a little. “Well,” she said, dragging it out, “we knew he was after you.”

I laughed in surprise. “You flatter me! There’s no way I could hit him hard enough to break a rib.”

“With friends like he has, you won’t need to, but watch your step anyway, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Mel.” I paused. “Oh, is there anything like a deadbolt or a door stop I can use so I can sleep without worrying that he’s gonna turn the Bumble Brothers loose on me again? I need something to make sure the head door stays closed.”

“You think they’d enter through Arletta’s room and then through the head?”

“They did it before with Jaffee.”

She looked at me for about three heartbeats before she said, “Lemme look into my bag of tricks. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks,” I told her. “For everything.”

She just winked and headed for the ladder.

Juliett and I settled down and Charlotte came up to the bridge around 10:30 with fresh coffee.

“Big doing’s?” I asked as she came up the ladder.

“Nothing you don’t already know, sar. Apones and Mosler are taking it pretty well.”

“Without a patron, they’ve gotta be feeling the breeze they’re swinging in,” Juliett said. “They’ll bide their time until he’s out of the auto-doc.”

“What’s the feeling on Ms. DeGrut taking over first section?”

Charlotte lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Most people think it should be the captain, but nobody expects he’ll come out of the cabin until we set navigation stations.”

“What’s he doing in there?” I asked.

“We’re not sure, sar,” Charlotte admitted. “Nobody ever goes in or out, hardly.”

I thought about Simon and Bayless and wondered why the rumor mill didn’t know about them.

“Why? Do you know something, sar?” Charlotte asked sharply, watching my face carefully.

“I have no idea what he does in there. For all I know, he’s writing poetry.”

Juliett glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, but Charlotte nodded and sipped her coffee.

Arletta relieved me on time at 11:45. “I have no idea how anybody else is taking it. David’s still in the auto-doc, the Bumble Brothers are keeping their heads down.” She followed it with a little shrug. “With Mel calling the shots, nobody’s saying boo.”

“Well in that case…the ship is on course and on target. No incidents or actions. Standing orders are unchanged. You may relieve the watch, Ms. Novea.”

“I have the watch, Mr. Wang. Logged 2358-November-7, at 11:45 in accordance with standing orders,” she said with a grin.

I headed for my stateroom and a quick clean up before I went to the wardroom for lunch. Fredi and Mel were there and Ms. Cramer brought the food right in. She smiled shyly at me and I thought she looked a little more rested, a little less stressed than she had in a while. I wondered if Apones or Mosler had been harassing her.