Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (74 page)

We were still two days out of Martha’s Haven, inbound with passengers and freight out of Kazyanenko, when I got the priority message from DST. I had the evening watch, and had just settled in after dinner when the message dropped into my private queue.

Addressed to all the prize crew from the
Chernyakova
mission, the message told us that the winning bidder had defaulted on their payment. Officials on Breakall had scheduled a new auction slated to end on June 25, 2373. Payments contingent on the winning bid were voided, and officials would generate a new reckoning when the next auction closed.

I sighed.

Greta, who picked that moment to step onto the bridge, heard it and asked, “That was a heavy sigh, captain-my-captain. What was that for?”

“The buyers of the
Chernyakova
defaulted. Breakall’s having a new auction.”

“No money?”

“Not yet.”

“Not like you need it right away.”

“True, but it would be nice to have, particularly if we go to the Higbee Yards.”

She grinned, kissed my mouth quickly, and ran her hand over my cropped hair before plunking herself into the engineering console beside me. “We’re not doing that anytime soon either, my dear.”

“Also, true,” I admitted. “But still...”

She shrugged and repeated, “But still.”

“How’s the ship holding up?” I asked, more to make conversation than anything.

She fired up the console and nodded. “Really well. The scrubbers are the weak link on this ship. Those cartridges need changing all the time. Luckily it’s not a big job, but tedious. All the major components are rock solid. I’ve been over every piece now and, other than a poor maintenance record over the last three stanyers, she’s in good shape. Doesn’t look like she was used very hard.”

“The logs got purged when I took over, so I don’t really know.” I shrugged, turning to admire her in the glow of the console screen. A warmth washed over me as I realized what a lucky man I was.

She tilted her face slightly to look at me. “That’s a silly grin. What brought that on?”

“You. I just realized how lucky I am.”

“I feel pretty lucky, myself,” she said, a gentle smile turning up the left side of her mouth.

“I’ll confess
,
I still have trouble reconciling this.”

“What? That you and I are a couple? You still hung up on chain of command?”

I paused and blew out a deep breath. “A little.”

She swung her seat around to face, me and took one of my hands in both of hers. “We’re both here for the ship, and for each other. If something happens to the ship, then something happens to you. I can’t stand the thought that it might happen, but there it is. Do you think your being the captain makes any difference there?”

I shook my head. “No, but what if you get tired of me, and decide to leave me and the ship?”

“Well, then, we’ll be safe in port someplace, won’t we?” She cocked her head at me. “I’m not likely to get out and walk.” She sighed and shook her head. “You’re such a bundle of what-ifs and might-bes, you’re letting what you have slip away. My father always told me that chasing after everything I wanted was a fool’s game, but that wanting everything I had would bring me happiness.” She smiled and leaned in to give me a very unprofessional public display of affection. “That advice never made more sense that it does right now, love.” she said as she settled back in her seat.

The helm beeped, and I turned to see it make an automatic adjustment and settle back on the beam.

“You really don’t need to keep a bridge watch, you know.” She grinned at me.

“But what if—” I cut myself off as she arched an eyebrow at me.

“The proximity alerts will tell you long before you’d be able to see anything bearing down on us, and you can watch the repeaters in our cabin or in the galley if you want to.” She waved a hand at the armorglass all around. You have a nice view up here, sure, but you’ve got almost as good a view from either of those two places as well.”

I sighed and shrugged. “Okay. Yes. Call it a question of perception.”

“Perception?”

“If you were a passenger, and knew nobody was at the helm, would you sleep as well?”

“Well, of course.”

I shook my head. “No, not as an engineer who knows how this all works, but as somebody who doesn’t know. Somebody who’s not a spacer? Do you think they’d appreciate it?”

It was her turn to sit back and think. “No,” she said after a few heartbeats. “I don’t suppose they would.”

“At the prices we’re charging, the least we can do is keep a watch.”

“But that’s not why you’re doing it,” she pressed, a smile on her lips.

“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”

“Do you have a reason?”

I sighed, and looked out into the Deep Dark, looking at the growing disk of Martha’s Haven and the cluster of shining dots around it. “Yes. The
Chernyakova
.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“They all died because something went wrong with the ship. Something they should have seen. If they had seen it, they’d still be alive.”

“Maybe,” she said almost instantly. “From what little you’ve said about it, that ship was a catastrophe just waiting to happen, and they had a bridge watch.”

“Yes, and even having a watch didn’t help them, so I know it’s irrational, but if we’re ever that close, I want to know we did everything we could to make sure we didn’t end up there. Maybe whoever’s on watch won’t catch it. Maybe the alarm will wake us all in time. I don’t know. I just feel safer with somebody here at the helm if it all goes wrong.” I shrugged. “Superstitious probably, but it’s how I see it.”

She smiled at me. “It’s your ship, captain-my-captain. You run it the way you need to.” She tilted her head to one side, before continuing. “But I still don’t understand about your hang up on the chain of command.”

“I know. That’s probably just as irrational. It’s just been part of me for as long as I’ve been sailing around out here. It started on the
Lois
and even though I know that the issue is really not an absolute, it’s just been one of my rules. A thing I lived by.”

“And now, Ishmael?” The gentleness of her tone didn’t hide how much my answer mattered to her.

“Now, I’m not so sure I was right. You’re showing me another way to live out here. A way I don’t really understand yet, but I’m enjoying learning about it.” I grinned. “I certainly appreciate what the passengers see in having a view of the stars from their bunks.”

“I hear a ‘but’, my dear. What is it?”

“What happens when the honeymoon’s over? When things aren’t going so well?”

She shrugged. “We try not to fight in front of the passengers, and the crew will understand. We’ve dealt with worse, haven’t we?”

“Worse?”

“William Pall’s run in with the muggers? And helping him heal?”

“Well, yes, but what else were we supposed to do? He was part of the crew!”

Her eyebrows twitched.

“Okay. Yes. I see your point.”

“Ishmael, we have each other. We have a ship. We have a crew. We have a very nice little operation going here, but you know what? If you wanted to take over the restaurant from your father, and live on the station for the rest of your life? I’d be there.” She looked at me hard, without a lick of humor. “But you’re not going to do that, because you love it out here. So do I. We’ve got a ship to run, and you and I both know neither one of us has the skills, knowledge, or disposition to do it alone. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together because that’s what we do.” She shrugged and smiled. “So, what does it matter what our ranks and titles are? You’re over thinking it, and missing the point.”

“I am?”

“Yes, my dear captain, you are.” She fairly glowed in the dim light. Her eyes gleamed, and her smile held me transfixed.

“I love you.” The words surprised me when they slipped out of my mouth. I hadn’t realized I was holding them in.

Her lips twitched sideways. “There! That didn’t hurt, did it?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No, actually, it felt rather good.”

She smiled then and leaned back into me. “Good,” she said softly. “I love you, too.” She gave me a soft kiss on the lower lip. “Now stop being such a stiff-necked ignoramus and relax. You’re a good captain, and I think we’re gonna make a great team, so get over it.” She grinned at me, and even though there really wasn’t enough light on the bridge to see the color, I felt the sapphire in her eyes.

The helm beeped again, and I turned to make sure it adjusted correctly. As I did, she stood and stepped behind me, lacing her arms around my shoulders and squeezing me gently from behind the pilot’s chair, kissing the top of my head, and leaning down to my ear. “I’ll be in our bunk,” she whispered. “Wake me when you get off watch.” She gave me a small kiss on the ear, and her hands stroked across my shoulders as she straightened and walked to the ladder. She gave me a wicked smile before picking her way down; leaving me wondering if the environmental controls were off because the temperature on the bridge seemed suddenly a bit warmer than normal.

Chapter Sixty-Nine
Diurnia Orbital:
2373-May-13

We finished the loop from Diurnia to Kazyanenko to Martha’s Haven and back again in forty-five days. The priority bonuses added up nicely, and the passengers continued to rave about the service. As Ms. Arellone piloted us smoothly to dock, I sat back in my chair and smiled in satisfaction. I really felt like I was beginning to get the hang of it.

The thought sent a chill through me.

Ms. Arellone happened to be looking at me as the dread washed through me. “What’s the matter, Skipper?” She stood up, and stepped toward me in alarm.

I waved her off and shook my head. “Nothing, Ms. Arellone. I’m fine. Just wondering when the next shoe would drop.”

“You always this pessimistic, Skipper?”

I shrugged. “Over the stanyers, I’ve learned that when I think I’m beginning to understand anything? That’s the first symptom that I really don’t understand what’s happening.”

She shook her head. “You really need to lighten up, Skipper.” She grinned at me.

The lock klaxon buzzed and we looked at each other.

“Customs is on the ball this evening,” I said dryly.

“They always are here,” Ms. Arellone said with a shrug.

As Captain, I needed to meet and greet the Confederation Customs people. We filed our manifests electronically before docking, so the physical inspection was more form than purpose as a rule. The inspectors would come in, look at the embargo locker, poke about a bit in the entry, collect a thumbprint, and leave. In theory, the ship could be filled with contraband and they would never know, but they considered so few things as contraband that they rarely pursued it. Mostly, the visit was a courtesy call.

When I got to the lock, in addition to the two uniformed inspectors, I met an armed security officer and a nondescript individual in a mouse brown business suit. The customs officers—two faces I recognized—seemed apologetic. The security officer stood quietly in the background maintaining his bland professional face. The last person seemed some odd combination of angry, jumpy, and bored.

The Customs inspectors came in, shook the lock on the embargo locker, collected my thumb print, and left before I could even invite them up for coffee. Even for them, the inspection seemed a bit shallow.

As they stepped off the ramp, the mouse stepped up. “Are you Captain Ishmael Wang of the solar clipper
Iris
?”

“I am. You are?”

“My name is Maynard Sylvester. I am here to see a member of your crew—one Christine Maloney whom we believe is using the alias Catharine Maitland.”

“May I ask what this is about?”

“No, Captain. I am not at liberty to say at the moment. This officer is here to witness and to vouchsafe my
bona fides
.”

“Ah. I see.” I nodded at the officer who didn’t nod back. “In that case, may I see some identification, Mr. Sylvester?”

“Of course, Captain.” He held out chip and I slotted it into my tablet. The information consisted of his name and address, nothing more.

“Please come aboard.” I stepped back and he walked up the ramp, followed by the officer. I looked up to where Ms. Arellone stood at the top of the ladder. “Would you ask Ms. Maitland to join us, Ms. Arellone?”

“Aye, aye, sar.” She turned and walked into the galley, and Ms. Maloney emerged moments later.

She stopped at the top of the ladder and called down, “Yes, Captain?”

“Would you join us, Ms. Maitland?”

“Of course, sar.”

As she approached, Mr. Sylvester stepped toward her, but I held up a hand and he stopped.

Without taking my eyes of him, I spoke. “Ms. Maloney, this man says he has business with you but refuses to say what it is.”

From behind me, I heard her say, “He’s a process server, Captain. Apparently I’m being sued.”

Sylvester frowned at her and spoke. “I have business with Ms. Christine Maloney who is using the name Catharine Maitland aboard this vessel. Is that you?”

She stepped up beside me and held out her hand. “You know I am. Just give me the summons, Maynard.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Maloney, but the forms must be followed.” He nodded at the security man. “He’s my witness.”