Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (2 page)

Mr. Hill followed me off the bridge, and we separated at the foot of the ladder. With a nod, he went down one more level toward the galley and crew quarters, and I turned toward the cabin, only to meet my Chief Engineer waiting for me outside the door.

“G’morning, Skipper.” She smiled and handed me a cup of coffee. “Can we talk?”

I accepted the coffee and took a sip before replying, buying myself some time. Eventually, I had to agree, and opened the door to the cabin, leading the way in.

Entering the cabin on the
Agamemnon
always caught me by the heart. It didn’t matter that I’d just come from the bridge with the armorglass windows on all sides. There was something about the panoramic stretch of the Deep Dark that met me when I walked through the door that always made my heart skip a beat. I think it was the combination of comfortable living room and star-studded darkness. Dreading the conversation that I feared was coming, I still took some comfort from the magnificent view, and led the way to the conversational grouping. I sat on one couch and nodded for Chief Gerheart to take the seat across from me.

We settled into our seats and I leaned forward, propping my elbows on my knees and placing the heavy white mug onto the glass topped table between us. It took me a moment to get enough gumption to look over at her, but eventually I steeled myself, and hoped I presented a cool enough exterior.

She half-reclined on the sofa—legs curled under her, arm along the back, looking as comfy as a cat in the sunlight and regarded me with sad eyes. “Ya wanna talk about it, Ishmael?” Her voice was soft but steady.

“Talk about what?” I didn’t stand on ceremony with my officers in private, but having her use my name like that sent a jolt though me.

“Why you’ve been avoiding me this trip.” Her inflection rose at the end, making her statement a question. “Perhaps what the hell is going on with you?” Her eyes flashed sapphire and nearly blinded me, or maybe it was just my own eyes betraying me.

I wanted to say, “Nothing’s wrong,” or perhaps, “I haven’t been avoiding you,” or any number of other denials that sprang immediately to my mind. I sighed. “You’re an amazing woman, Greta. You affect me in ways I don’t even want to think about. But I’m the captain and I can’t pursue the kind of relationship, I’d like.”

Her eyes crinkled in amusement and the sapphires in them danced as the left side of her mouth curled in a sardonic grin. “Humble, too.” Her voice carried a hint of mocking amusement.

She caught me off-guard and I chuffed a bark of laughter in response. “Sorry. You asked. I’m a terrible liar so I try not to do it very often.”

She pursed her lips. “So, you’re telling me you’ve been avoiding me because you’ve got the hots for me and you can’t control yourself?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Actually, I can control myself, but I find it difficult to do and more difficult as time goes on. I have a policy about fraternization. It’s been with me from the beginning and I can’t see me breaking that rule now. It’s not like you’ve been throwing yourself at me. I’m just --” my voice trailed off. What was I? Hurt? Vulnerable? I didn’t even know how she felt about me and here we were sitting across from each other having this stupidly intimate conversation.

The moment stretched out and just as I was about to answer, she spoke instead. “I see.”

I looked up at her. She still had that semi-amused expression on her face. “Do you?”

“No, not really. You’re assuming I have no say in this. Isn’t that a bit paternalistic?”

Her calm words shocked me and I could feel my face flushing. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” She was right, of course. I ducked my head to stare into my coffee mug so I wouldn’t have to look at her.

She sighed. “Of course, you didn’t. You’re the captain. You’re the man. You set the rules and the rest of us dance to your tune whether we like it or not.” Her voice was tinged with exasperation.

Her tone pricked me. “You have some complaints about how I run this ship, Chief?” I snapped at her and regretted it even as the words left my mouth.

She shook her head briefly. “No, Captain.” She gave the title special emphasis. “You’ve turned the ship around since you’ve been here, given us all new life.” She paused, staring into my face without flinching. “It’s how you’re running your life that worries me.”

“What’s the matter with the way I’m running my life?”

The hardness in her face softened a bit. “You’re an idiot.” Her warm smile diffused the sting and even her eyes danced with mirth. “You’ve just had a series of major upheavals in your life - starting with that horror show of a derelict salvage, making captain, dealing with this mess...” she paused to wave her hands around the room indicating the ship at large “...divorcing your cheating wife and even giving her a nice settlement. You bucked the owner to take on a brig rat—even gave her a promotion—and you can’t even take care of yourself.”

Her recitation left me with my mouth hanging open. Coming from anybody else that probably would have felt like a brutal summary, but I had to admit everything she said was true. I recovered enough to close my mouth and swallow before responding. “How do you know she was cheating?”

Her eyes bulged and she pursed her lips but she just shook her head. “Never mind. Did you hear any other word I said?”

I sighed and nodded, staring at my hands so I didn’t have to look across at her—big, macho captain man that I was.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” I answered without looking up from my hands.

She heaved a sigh. “You’re a mess, Ishmael. We all know it. You’re working so hard to take care of us that it’s taking its toll on you. You have a standard that you think is right—”

I looked up at her sharply and started to speak.

She held up a hand to forestall my interruption. “You have a standard that you think is right, but it’s getting in the way of your life. You don’t screw with crew, as you so charmingly put it. Fine. But now you’re in a pickle, aren’t you, Captain-my-Captain?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “This is not a conversation we should be having.”

“I beg to differ. If we don’t have it, who should?” She paused for a moment. “Ishmael, look at me.”

I opened my eyes.

“You’ve got yourself in knots over me. Say it.”

I took a deep breath and let it out before replying. “I’ve got myself in knots over you.”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She smiled at me as if I were a small boy who finally tied his shoes for the first time. “As it happens, you big romantic son-of-a-gun, I think you’re a hell of a guy, but—” She paused and gave me the puppy dog eyes that told me what was coming next. “But not that way.”

She was trying to be nice, I knew. It was the “let him down easy” talk. It didn’t work, but that was her intent and I was grateful for the attempt but I’m sure my face went as red as if she’d slapped me.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t done. “You’re not like other captains. You didn’t presume on my person because you could, but you’ve been an ass about it for weeks. Moping about the ship. Leaving the room when I enter. Not even looking at me across the table in the mess, and I sit right across from you!”

The roaring in my ears built to the point where I could only barely make out her words as each one struck home, as each burned with truth and I recognized what an idiot I’d been. The air went out of me in a rush and my head fell forward, bouncing on my neck like the bobble-head I apparently was.

She let me stew for a tick or two before going on. “Thank you for being a decent human being, Ishmael, but next time? Before you start getting your shorts in a knot? Remember that there are two adults involved. Try talking together before you make any more sweeping, patronizing decisions about what’s proper. You can save yourself a lot of grief.” Her soft voice carried a backing of titanium.

“Sorry, Greta.” I mumbled into my coffee as I picked up the mug to hide behind.

She gave a sad little chuckle as she rose, leaving me to my cooling coffee and heated face. “I am, too, Captain.”

The latch on the cabin door clicked when she closed it behind her.

I leaned back on the couch and gazed out of the forward port. Remembering my earlier conversation with Mr. Hill, I recalled another old curse.

“Be careful what you wish for,” I muttered.

Chapter Two
Diurnia System:
2372-December-14

Three days out of Diurnia, the universe took an unpleasant twist to the left.

At 2340 I headed to the bridge to relieve Mr. Pall. When I got there, I found him hammering on his systems console, and Mr. Schubert staring numbly at the drop down repeater on the overhead. A series of news wire items ran in a loop and a talking head video clip played silently, the female anchor’s moving image superimposed on a stock photo of Geoff Maloney. The headlines were all variations on the same theme: “Shipping Magnate Dead!”

“Report, Mr. Pall.”

“I grabbed the local news wires about a stan ago, just to update the systems, Captain. I found this.”

“What happened?”

“Heart attack, they’re saying. Seems pretty consistent across all the sources.”

“When?”

He consulted a popup display and I could see the time stamp translations. “They discovered the body about five stans ago.” He jerked a thumb at the overhead. “That’s about four stans old, so it was canned right after the news broke.”

“Any message traffic?”

He shook his head. “Nothing yet, skipper. I keep pinging but nothing’s coming back from home office. It’s the middle of the night there now.”

I plunked down in the vacant watchstander’s seat and pondered. “Who’s second in command at home office these days, William? Is it still Shelby Blum?”

He hammered his keyboard a bit and gave a shrug. “According to this document, it’s a man named Ames Jarvis.” He looked at me with a curious frown. “Isn’t that the guy who came to see you on Breakall?”

“Yes, Mr. Pall, it is. Unless there are two of them in the organization.”

“I thought he was the Breakall station chief, Skipper.”

“I did, too, Mr. Pall. How recent is that source you’re using for reference?”

He slapped another window open. “Three months, Skipper. Last updated in late September.” He slapped another few keys. “Query sent. We’ll have it in...” he looked up at the chronometer at the corner of his console, “...about a stan.”

Mr. Hill joined us on the bridge, and nudged a fresh cup of coffee onto the watch station for me before tapping Mr. Schubert to relieve the watch.

“Watch change, Mr. Pall, I’ll relieve you if you can spare a moment?”

He nodded almost absent-mindedly, pulled up a fresh view on his second screen and I could see the log updating on the watch station in front of me as he typed. He banged the enter key and his window closed. “It’s yours, Captain.” His fingers beat another brief tattoo on the keyboard in front of him before he turned in his chair to look at me. “Orders, Captain?”

“Get some sleep, Mr. Pall. I suspect we won’t know much until the chain of command gets squared on the orbital and, even then, the first thing they’ll need to do is damage control with the media.”

“Any ideas what they’ll do, Skipper?”

I took a deep breath and blew it out before responding. “If we don’t sail, we don’t make money, so whatever it is, it probably won’t change things here.” I hoped that I was right. Diurnia Salvage and Transport was not a publicly traded company, and Maloney wasn’t just the CEO, he was also the largest stockholder. I wondered what Mrs. Maloney would do with controlling interest.

The talking head showing in the pulldown display changed to show a different head—a distinguished looking man speaking earnestly into the pickup. The crawl under the image read, “CPJCT rep dies. Long time member dies of heart attack.”

His seat on the Confederated Planets Joint Committee on Trade would be hard to fill. He’d been a champion of shipping companies for decades. Along the way he had done a lot of good for crews, and never seemed to have forgotten that, without crews, the ships did not sail. Some cynical voices might argue that he had done that by mistake, but I knew Maloney did nothing by accident.

“Does that seem odd to you, Skipper?” Mr. Hill watched his helm with one eye on the monitor.

I scanned my proximity sensors and got a good look at the ship status while I mulled the question over before answering. “In what way, Mr. Hill?”

“Who dies of a heart attack these days, sar?”

Mr. Pall glanced at him, and even Mr. Schubert frowned.

“Mr. Hill?”

“His heart just stopped beating? Probably one of the richest men in the sector? How is that even possible, sar? Unless it just blew up in his chest, or he was cut off from everybody and everything so nobody noticed, and he couldn’t call for help?” Mr. Hill shook his head. “Just doesn’t seem right to me, sar.”

I shrugged as Mr. Pall turned his attention to me. “I know, Mr. Hill, but that’s the story, so until we get more information, we really can’t do more than speculate, and I think we have a ship to sail here...”

He took the hint and I nodded at the repeater screen. “If you’d cut that, Mr. Pall? We’ll get on with getting home safely.”