Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (6 page)

I slipped into the galley to relieve Mr. Pall at 0540. I found him helping Mr. Wyatt with the breakfast prep and the two of them looked up as I sauntered onto the mess deck.

“Morning, gentlemen,” I said, forestalling the questions I saw on their faces. I snagged a mug and poured my first cup of the day, turning to rest my haunches against the counter while I sipped.

After a few ticks of clattering, Mr. Pall asked, “What’s going on, Skipper?”

I took another deliberate sip before looking at him. “Ms. Thomas is getting another shot at her master’s license.”

The two of them shared a look, glancing briefly at each other before looking back to me. “And...?” Mr. Pall prompted.

“And we’ll see how she does, but the smart money will bet on her making it.” I sipped my coffee again, hiding my grin at the flashes of consternation on their faces. “Shall we change the watch, Mr. Pall?”

As the chronometer clicked over to 0545, we observed the requisite forms, even as Mr. Hill scooted onto the mess deck to grab a mug before taking his own post at the brow. He gave me a knowing smirk as he passed on the mess deck but offered no comment.

I settled at my customary seat at the long table and watched as Mr. Pall finished setting up the griddle and Mr. Wyatt pulled a tray of biscuits from the oven. Mr. Pall kept glancing at me, but I noticed that Avery kept looking at him with a certain degree of amusement.

Eventually, Mr. Pall noticed and frowned at him. “What’s so funny?” He kept his voice low but in the quiet of the docked ship, it was clearly audible.

Mr. Wyatt shot me a look, that Mr. Pall echoed. “Well, Mr. Pall, it’s only been about a stanyer but I’ve learned that our captain here—” he nodded his head in my direction while his deft hands stacked biscuits into a basket, “—will tell us whatever is going on as soon as he can.”

I toasted him with my mug even as Mr. Pall’s face fell a bit in a combination of chagrin and disappointment.

After a few heartbeats he looked up again, his glance going from Mr. Wyatt to me and back again. “But something is going on, right?”

Mr. Wyatt nodded before speaking. “Oh, yes, Mr. Pall, something is most definitely going on.”

The console keyboard was still on the table and I used it to pull up the outgoing manifest—three cans for Jett. The delivery bonus was based on delivery by the end of March. Even if things went a little oddly, the
Agamemnon
should be able to make good on those.

Mr. Pall focused on flipping some pancakes on the griddle, the tip of his tongue caught in the corner of his mouth in concentration, but Mr. Wyatt saw me looking at the cargoes. He arched an eyebrow in my direction but I gave a slight shake of my head and a little shrug.

He pursed his lips and returned the shrug just as Chief Gerheart and Ms. Thomas came onto the mess deck with big smiles and broke up our little man-fest.

Ms. Thomas grabbed a coffee and sidled comfortably up to Mr. Wyatt to survey the breakfast arrangements. I made it a point not to notice the pat she gave Mr. Wyatt’s butt although I did see Chief Gerheart grin into her mug.

“Okay, close enough! I’m declaring breakfast open. Captain? If you’d do the honors?” Mr. Wyatt looked pointedly at the end of the line and I dutifully took plate in hand and dished up the ceremonial first helpings of pancakes, bacon, eggs, biscuits, and what looked like a very smooth sausage gravy.

“What? No potatoes?” I looked up at Mr. Wyatt with a frown and a wink.

“Skipper, any more carbs in this breakfast and we’ll need a bigger lock just to load the crew.”

The crew shared an appreciative chuckle and by the time I’d taken my seat, I noticed that Misters Schubert and Hill had joined us although there was no sign of Ms. Arellone. Counting noses, I realized that the crew was all at breakfast with that one exception, a notable occurrence for first day in port.

We settled in to enjoy the food almost silently and I ignored the curious glances that didn’t quite end in questions. At 0605 we heard the lock start to cycle and Mr. Hill left his breakfast to tend to it. Ms. Arellone accompanied him back onto the mess deck. She wore civvies, and looked rather like she’d enjoyed her evening.

“Sorry, I’m late.” She looked around the table, scanning faces.

Mr. Wyatt finished chewing and wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering. “Plenty left, and plenty of time.”

I could see her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye and then she shot Mr. Schubert a questioning look.

He gave a short shake of his head and continued eating.

“Well, I’ll just get changed and be right back then.” She announced it quite loudly and totally unnecessarily.

I didn’t even have time to finish my biscuit before she was back, properly attired in a clean shipsuit. She worked her way methodically down the serving line, helping herself as she went. She placed her meal at her normal place and then looked up the table to Ms. Thomas. “Can I get you anything while I’m up, Ms. Thomas?”

Gwen smiled at her and shook her head. “No, thank you, Ms. Arellone. I don’t want to eat too much before the exam.” She looked around the table with a grin. “I don’t mind admitting, I’m a bit nervous.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine today,” I said. “Tomorrow’s the interview and that’s really the harder part.”

“Oh, yes. No question there.” She paused and looked at me with a question in her eyes .“I still don’t know how you managed to get me another Board. I did this last year, just before you joined us.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t. It was Geoff Maloney’s doing, apparently.”

That brought a lot of looks in my direction.

“I was going to put you in when we docked, but who knows how long it would have been before they got to you.”

She nodded, a rueful smile curling her mouth.

“Mr. Maloney was ahead of me and got this approved just a couple of weeks ago.”

The mention of Maloney added a somber tone to the table and almost everybody went back to their meals.

“But why, sar?”

I looked across to where Ms. Thomas still studied my face.

“Why did he do this for me?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but Ms. Kingsley said he thought you’d make a good skipper and he wanted to give you a chance.”

Mr. Wyatt smiled fondly at Ms. Thomas but Chief Gerheart kept her eyes hooded. Beside her, Ms. Arellone wasn’t paying any attention to them, but I was startled to see her watching me like a cat watches a bird outside the window.

Mr. Pall looked over at me. “So? Did Ms. Kingsley have anything else to say, Skipper?”

Silence descended at that question as all eyes turned to me. I glanced around and saw that everybody but Ms. Arellone had cleaned their plates. Most were just sipping their coffees and waiting. I looked down the table to see Mr. Hill grinning back at me.

“As a matter of fact she did.” I looked from face to face, gathering them in before I went on. “There are probably going to be some changes here and not necessarily the ones you think.”

I sipped my coffee to think about how much I could tell them, because it was obvious I needed to tell them something.

“The company is planning on losing a lot of people when then settlement from the
Chernyakova
comes in.” They grinned at me.

“Will you be one of them, Skipper?” Mr. Wyatt asked, innocence fairly dripping from his voice.

“I don’t know yet, Mr. Wyatt.” I could see that wasn’t exactly the answer they were expecting. “What they’re most concerned with is that they’re going to lose most of the crew of the
Tinker
.”

Nobody blinked.

“The company stands to earn a lot of credits as well. They will be consolidating the fleet, and working to get the new CEO up to speed.”

Mr. Pall perked up at that. “Who’s going to be the new CEO?”

“Ames Jarvis will be acting CEO for the time being.” I looked around the table. Chief Gerheart still wasn’t looking me in the eye and I wondered what was on her mind. I sipped my coffee before adding, “It’ll probably be a stanyer before they get it all sorted out.”

“So, where did you go with Ms. Kingsley, Captain?” Ms. Arellone had a sly grin but I saw the chief flinch at the question.

“Maintenance docks to look at a ship they’re going to retire.”

“Gonna buy it, sar?” Ms. Arellone sipped her coffee with a bland expression on her face.

I looked at her sharply. “Buy it, Ms. Arellone?”

“The
Jezebel
. Are they trying to sell it to you?”

All eyes went to her and she looked from face to face in alarm.

“What? I had a few drinks with Samantha Wilson last night. She was crew on the
Jez
and had quite a lot to say about being beached.” She looked back to me. “So? Are ya gonna buy it, Skipper?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know yet, Ms. Arellone.”

The eyes all shifted back to my end of the table.

“But you’re thinking about it?” she said.

I scanned the faces, many of whom looked concerned and in that delay knew I had only one answer. “I’m thinking about it.” I could see them all inhale and forestalled comment by holding up my hand .“I’m just thinking about it. The
Chernyakova
hasn’t even been auctioned off yet, and until it does, and we see what those shares are, I’m just guessing like everybody else.” I lowered my hand and looked around again. They seemed to be calming down. “In the meantime we’ve got a ship to run.” I looked to the chief. “How are we in Engineering, Chief? Tankage topping off? We need any spares?”

Chief Gerheart looked up at me for the first time and I could still see something in her eyes but I couldn’t read it. “Tanks will be topped off by noon, Captain. I’ve got to check the stores for replacement filter cartridges but we’ll have a full complement by tomorrow. Port side sail generator has a bit of a wobble in it that I need to look at, but it’s probably just a loose coil. It happens every so often.”

I nodded. “We’ve pushed the girls hard over the last stanyer. How soon before our next yard availability?”

She shook her head. “I’d have to check the records but it’s at least another stanyer out.”

“Thank you, Chief.” I turned to Mr. Wyatt. “Stores orders placed, Mr. Wyatt?”

“Yes, Captain. Should have stores aboard by this time tomorrow. And our new cans will be up from the dispatch yard tomorrow afternoon. Plenty of time.”

“Mr. Pall? Are there many astrogation updates this trip?”

He shook his head. “No, sar. A few but nothing serious on this end of the sector. We’ve got system backups to do, though, and I’ll have the shore-side copies up at home office by tomorrow.”

I turned down to look at the ratings. “How are you all fixed at the co-op?”

Mr. Hill and Ms. Arellone looked to Mr. Schubert to report. He grinned, and turned to me. “We’ve booked a table for three days, Skipper.” He looked at the chrono on the bulkhead. “I need to be heading up there soon. Ms. Arellone is going to help me. We got some excellent textiles on Breakall and we have a few other odds and ends to sell off.”

“Excellent!” I looked around the table .“Thank you, all. I really appreciate the work you all put in.” I paused .“We’ve come a long way in a year, but there’s still a lot to do. Mr. Maloney’s passing is a blow, and it’s going to cause reverberations up and down the chain of command. Having it happen now, with the prize money from the
Chernyakova
due in a couple of weeks, just adds to the general confusion, but if we focus on what’s in front of us—keep our eyes on what’s important—then we’ll sail out of the storm in good shape.”

That seemed to satisfy them for the most part and they looked around at each other for a moment before Mr. Hill rose, bussed his dirty dishes, and headed back for the brow without a word. As if it were a signal, everybody else started moving at once.

Within half a stan, the breakfast mess was cleared away, the crew was off on their various tasks—including Ms. Thomas looking shipshape and Bristol fashion in her undress uniform on her way to the union offices for day one of her captain’s examination.

For my part, I helped Mr. Wyatt clean up the galley and mess deck. As he finished stowing the last of the cleaned cooking gear, I snagged a cup of fresh coffee and settled back at the table. He soon joined me with a cup of his own, and eyed me over the rim of his mug.

“What?” I asked.

He smiled a little but he didn’t look happy .“How soon before you’re off the ship, skipper?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure, Avery.”

“They told you, though, right? You’re being reassigned?” He spoke quietly but never took his eyes off my face.

“In a manner of speaking.” I gave a little shrug. “I’m fired.”

He blinked at me and set his coffee cup down on the table with an audible click. “Fired? On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that I’m going to be too rich to want to work for them any longer.” I let him chew on that for a few heartbeats before I continued. “I suspect that it’s more convenience than reality. If I want to stay on, I suspect they’d let me.” In truth, I wasn’t sure if I really believed that, but it was a useful fiction.

“How rich?”

I shrugged again. “Nobody knows until the
Chernaykova
sells.”

“Bull. They’ve got a guess that’s better than a coin toss. I bet they know within a few percent what it’ll fetch at auction.”

“A ten million.” I said it quietly, still not quite used to it myself.

“Bull! It’ll go for a lot more than that.”

I shook my head. “No, that’s how much they think my share will come to. If the ship sells for what they think it’ll get, anybody who was on the
Tinker
on that trip will be a millionaire.”

He blinked at me silently as he tried to process it.

“Boggling, isn’t it?” I asked.

His head started shaking back and forth slowly. “Ten million credits? You’re going to be rich?”

My left shoulder hunched in a half shrug. “Compared to that, my princely wage here is rounding error.”

Eventually Avery regained control of his mouth. “What are you going to do?”

I sighed. “Good question. With that much money, I’m not exactly up there with the Maloneys and the Schumanns and all, but I’m definitely swimming in a deeper pool than I’m used to.”