The Bright Black Sea (54 page)

I was growing rather alarmed, not about the shadows
themselves, but about me. My imagination seemed to be running wild.
For no reason. I knew there was nothing to my sense of unease, the
ship was a sealed world, and so I should be able to easily dismiss
it. But. But it wasn't easy, and that seemed inexplicable. I could
only hope it'd pass.

Rafe and Kie were working on the engine room control
platform, reinstalling the extended wiring from the moved engine
and injector mods. I stopped to talk for a few minutes, but not
wanting to delay them, I made my way down into the depths of the
engine room. There were shadows aplenty in the depths, and I wasn't
about to let myself become afraid of them. Since we were still in
free fall, I drifted down and around a complex array of machinery
using the spiderweb of ladders and platforms to pull and push and
weave my way deeper, leaving the brightly lit control platform
behind.

I didn't see him at first. Thinking back, I probably
smelled him before I saw him. It was the aroma of strong spirits
that caught my attention.

He was lounging in the shadows on one of the ribs
between two of the steering rockets, barely visible in the low
ambient light from overhead. He wore a one piece work suit, dirty
and open to the waist to show an equally dirty shirt. His face was
half hidden by a large drooping mustache.

He grinned and raised a large globe of whiskey and
offered this toast, 'To fast orbits,' he toasted, adding with a
wink and a leer, 'And fast women.'

I stared at him, closed my eyes hoping that when I
opened them, I'd just see a dark shadow.

He was grinning at me when I opened them again. 'Not
that easy, mate'

'Who are you? What are you? What are you doing here?'
I whispered.

'Now where are your manners? No how do ye do? No
grand to see ya mate?' he chided me. 'But allow me to introduce
myself. I'm...'

'Glen Colin.'

'Him in person,' he grinned. 'My fame has proceeded
me. Why, I'm blushing...' He took a pull from the globe. 'And you
be?'

'I'm dreaming. That's what I am.'

'Well, lad, one of us may be dream'n, but I don't
think it's you...'

'So this is what it's like down the dark hole,' I
said, fighting the swelling tide of panic sweeping up from my guts.
'It's come to this.'

'Oh, don't be so dramatic. You're in a bit of
darkness, I suspect, but not of my doing. So who do I have the
pleasure of conversing with?'

'Wil Litang. Captain Litang...'

'Cap'n are you? Where's ol'Fen?'

'Miccall died a year and a half ago now...'

'Ah...'

'What did you mean about being in a bit of
darkness?'

He shrugged and grinned. 'Just a guess, lad. But I
suspect you'll know soon enough.'

If I my orbit had lead down the dark hole, I might as
well go with it. There seemed no divergent course. Best face it.
'What are you? Why are you here? Or rather why am I seeing you?' I
asked.

'One question at a time. I need to keep my wits about
me,' he said and took a sip. 'What am I? Why I'm an ol'spaceer.
Nothing more, or at least nothing much more. An ol'spaceer with a
talent, perhaps. Sometimes I can visit me old ship now an' again
when I get in a state, this way and that. Spent enough time down in
this ol'hole, I did. Easy enough to find my way home. Just come to
visit, Cap'n. No harm in that...'

'How?'

He shrugged. 'Mystery to me. As far as I know, you're
in my dream.'

'Then where are you?'

'Don't rightly know,' he said with a puzzled shake of
his head. And taking another pull on his globe, added, 'You're
making my head hurt with all your questions. I'm here now, aren't I
and talk'n to you? Let's keep it that simple.'

'Alright. So why are you here?'

'Old time's sake, I suppose. As I said, I spent many
a voyage as nursemaid to these old engines, which, by and by,
brings me around to the point that's been puzzling me. You've got a
mighty curious rig, Cap'n,' he said, using his globe to point to
the main engine looming behind me, visible through the catwalks and
platforms. 'That's a new one for the old
Lark
.'

'A fracture in the nozzle bell about three meters in.
We decided to trim it off and get by without it,' I replied to my
delusion.

'Ah, the ol'drifteer game, eh? A rather bold measure
for a ship this size, I must say. Short of credits, are we? Though
I never knew Vinden to be short of credits, when he needed
them.'

'Vinden is dead too. His niece, Tallith Min is our
owner now. And I don't know her credit balance....'

'The Hawk dead? Oh my, life does go on, doesn't it?'
he said and took a long, thoughtful draw on the drinking tube. 'Did
they catch up to them?'

It occurred to me that Glen Colin – whatever he was –
might know some things I might like to know as well, so I replied,
'Not that we can tell. Heart failure and a needle rocket explosion.
But the Mins were killed in a space boat crash with a dead man at
the helm...

'Purser and Pilot dead as well... Well, take it from
ol'Glen Colin, Cap'n, the only sure way of escaping your enemies is
by outliving them... But you're too young to have enemies. So now
you've a new owner and are having to raze an engine to get by.'

'I wouldn't say that. We're bound for Zilantre with a
scheduled delivery to keep and big penalties if we don't. The liner
fractured while we were shaping our course after Anjur so it was
either a long burn with only our balancing engines which would give
us no chance of making the delivery on schedule, or this. Our
engineers said this would not only work well enough to get us to
Zilantre on schedule, but could be a semi-permanent solution until
we could afford to get the bell relined.'

'Ah, back to running the drifts, are we. That makes a
difference...' he muttered, and studied the engine with another
long draw on his globe. 'Still, it's a bold move. Never heard of it
being done on a ship this size. I've only seen it done on small
ships with engines smaller than those balancing ones of yours. And
they only run slow.'

'Still, it should work in principle. Shouldn't
it?'

He grinned, 'You took your chance and you're going to
find out.'

'Aye, though to be perfectly honest, it was the owner
who made the call. I'd have gone with using the balancing engines
alone,' I admitted, adding, since I might as well get everyone's
opinion, even a ghost's, 'Think we're fool to try it?'

He considered that question for quite a while,
pondering the engine and taking several pulls on his globe. Finally
he said, 'Well, Cap'n, I guess I don't see why it shouldn't, but
I'd not push her very hard. No, not very hard at all. At least not
the way she's set up now.'

'Why?'

'Well, I'm a bit leery of that saddle extension. It
seems a bit frail to me.'

'We ran sims and it's built to take the load,' I said
glancing up at it. As I may have mentioned, the top of the engine
ends in a nest of beams under the control platform called the
“saddle”, which carries the thrust of the engine up through the
structure of the ship. Moving the engine down meant that we had to
construct an extension to the saddle, basically a series of beams
that spanned the space between the real saddle and the part of the
engine that would have been flush against it.

'Oh, I'm sure the sim and you're engineers have it
right, according to spec. But well, I've run some razed engines in
my day, and I have to say, they take some handling. Even the little
ones. You wouldn't think taking a little slice of the exhaust
nozzle off would make much of a difference, but I have to tell you,
it does. You get vortexes and flow issues that'll rattle the engine
this way to Sirius. And when you consider that you've got less
bolts holding the engine in place, I'm certain you can imagine that
there'll be stress points in the system as the engine bucks with an
uneven thrust. Bust a few bolts, get the head of the engine a
little off center, and if your saddle extension has a bit of flex
and give to it.... well, things could get a bit wild in short
order. You could find yourself on the bridge sitting on the engine
head and it could get pretty drafty down here in the engine room,
if you get my thrust... Of course, with enough Dew of Dunagan,' he
lifted his globe, 'you can do most anything. But I'm thinking
you'll need a lot to get you through a razed engine and a long burn
without having to worry about finding the bloody engine in your
lap.'

'I know there was some discussion about making it
more substantial, but there was a question of time and
materials...'

'If I was you, Cap'n I'd find the material and the
time to build a substantial extension of the saddle down to the
engine. I'd make it three times spec just to be on the safe side.
And even , I'd be pretty reluctant to use that old jet at full
power, least ways until you know how it bucks. But as I said, you
can rely on the Dew here to see you through. Enough of the Dew and
you've not a worry in the Neb.'

I stared up at the towering engine housing, half
hidden beyond the catwalks and platforms.

'If I see that it is strengthened, will it get us to
Zilantre?'

'How many hours of burn are you looking at?'

'Something over 500 hours. We'll be using the
balancing rockets hard as well.'

He shook his head. 'I'm rather fond of this ship,
Cap'n. You see that it's strengthened, and lean on the balancing
rocket hard. And I'd still advise you to take a dollop or two of
Dunagan's as well.'

I nodded. 'Right.' At least my illusion wasn't
talking nonsense. 'Of course over ruling my engineers in their
engine room and getting my engineers to make the changes might be a
problem...'

'You're the cap'n, aren't you?'

'Aye, and you're an engineer. So what do you
think?'

He grinned. 'Oh, we follow orders, Cap'n. We must,
you know. Guild rules. We just don't have to like'em. And don't
have to keep our traps closed about not liking 'em either.'

'Right,' I said, grimly. 'And they don't.'

'Aye. You can tell'em Glen Colin advised it.'

'You think that'll do it, do you?'

He grinned. 'Oh, they'll think you're mad. But trust
me, they'll not be able to come up with a reason not to do it. Tell
them little engines in little ships buck. I don't see why a big
engine won't buck as well. And buck hard. Allow the engine to get
even a wee bit off kilter, and you're in big trouble.

'I've got a lot of years of my life invested in this
old girl of yours. Don't want to lose her. And even with the saddle
extension strengthened, you'll have to handle her with a light
touch. Hope you've got competent pilots, because you'll be finding
that not only will the engines be finicky but the ship will feel
different as well on account of the engine being moved aft. All the
computer programs are going to be off because of the change of
balance and that'll mean making all sorts of manual adjustments.
The little old ships the drifteers do this to, are usually run
pretty much manually anyway...'

'Seems you know a lot about all this...'

'Oh, I've been around. I've managed drifteer ships
with all sorts of crazy hacks. And I kept this old girl running
between the planets for a three centuries. Off and on, mind you so
there ain't much I don't know about this ship, or rockets in
general. Trust me...'

'Trust you? What are you, a ghost, a delusion, a
hallucination? '

'Oh, make it a ghost if ya like. It ain't exactly
accurate, but it'll do well enough.' and raising his globe, 'To
your health and mine,' he took another long draw, smacked his lips
and added, 'Ah. I doubt Dew of Dugan is available to the real dead.
But hope never dies... Fair orbits Cap'n!'

'Wait, I've got more questions...'

He just grinned and faded to deep shadow. Only the
aroma of the Dew of Dunagan remained behind.

I should've hurried to the medic bay, gotten some
sort of anti-hallucinatory treatment and retired to my hammock. But
instead, after staring at the shadows for a few moments deep in
thought, I slowly made my way up through the engine room, absently
continued my inspection of the two crew decks and wandered into the
bistro to make myself a mug of cha with the intention of getting my
chaotic thoughts in some sort of order.

02

To my surprise, I'd found a creeping sense of an
unwarranted relief in the whole episode, which made me both wary,
and comfortable at the same time. whatever Glen Colin was – the
phenomena seemed part of the shifting shadows and that sense of
something being aboard that had been haunting me these last several
days. Clinging to a ghost is not within a lightyear of being a
rational explanation, but old Glen Colin was a character out of the
Four Shipmate's yarns. I'd always believed the Glen Colin yarns
were complete fiction, but I now... Well, if the Shipmates
themselves saw Glen Colin, going so far as to claim he'd stand a
watch in the engine room on occasion, that'd make what I just
experienced not that much out of the ordinary – for the
Lost
Star
. Something to cling to.

Min was brewing a mug of cha in the bistro when I
entered. She looked up, 'Captain,' she greeted me with a nod.
(Using my title kept a certain formal distance that she seemed to
think necessary.)

'Tallith,' I replied absently.

'Is everything all right? You look like you've seen a
ghost,' she asked, watching me closely, as she had since our
conversation last evening in no. 4 hold.

'I have, in fact. I just ran into Glen Colin in the
engine room, complete with his globe of Dew of Dugan and whiskey
aroma. Draw your own conclusions as to my sanity, because I
can't.'

'You just saw Glen Colin, the ghost...' she asked,
now watching me with growing alarm.