The Bright Black Sea (89 page)

There were ten heats in the initial round, the
hundred and twenty teams narrowed to sixty, and willowed to thirty
in the second set, which we also survived – just hanging on in the
final stretch to get sixth place again, and we weren't holding back
on that one. There was nothing to hold back, by . The semi-final
involved fifteen tads instead of twelve, of which only the top six
would advance to the finals, which, in a way was easier since the
pack was bigger and the fighting more intense – behind us, as we
still took the short cut at the start of the race, though now we
weren't alone in doing so. Molaye had taught them a new trick – the
ones that were paying attention, anyway. Once again, we managed to
finish sixth.

A very dusty and disheveled Captain Storie also made
the final – I'm sure I looked just as disheveled or worse. We were
the only two Guild ships left in competition.

'Your run of luck runs out, this race, Wil,' she
said. 'Most of the regulars made it, so you'll be lucky to
finish.'

'Then it's a good thing we're in this together. Guild
honor and all.'

'It's an honor to have made the final,' she replied,
grimly. 'Just stay out of my way.'

'Of course,' I replied, under the watchful eye of
Molaye, guarding the sporting interest of our mates.

We started at the farthest end of the line, and as
the flag dropped, we shot straight ahead, over the curb and on to
the track – but , so did everyone else, so we ended up in eleventh
place, which is where we stayed until half way around the first
lap, when the pack ahead started fighting it out in earnest. We
kept out of that brawl. The final was a grueling three lap race, so
we had more time to move up, past the bikes in the ravines, and
took it.The team following us, also adopted this strategy, so we
weren't pressed, and by the time we emerged onto the long straight
speedway that ended the first lap, we'd passed two bikes, one in a
ditch the other deep in the brush, so we ended the first lap in
ninth place. During the second lap, we carefully began to move up.
Molaye deftly put a bike in a ravine with a sharp bump and we
passed another bike, riding on an almost vertical steep bank, (it
seemed, anyway). She didn't knock them, instead, keeping them on
the track to shield us (as Molaye explained later) from the five
bikes that were now trailing us.

By the time we started the final lap, we were close
behind the leading six. It'd be a dog fight from here on in. I was
little more than a thoughtless motor running on pure adrenalin, but
Molaye was keenly in the game, so we would surge ahead when Molaye
saw an opening, using her extensive moon-buggy racing skills to hit
the bike at just the right moment, sending them flying in the light
gravity towards the woods or ravines. 'Now!' she'd pant and I'd put
what little reserve I had into pedaling – clash, bang, an elbow to
the shoulder and the opposing tri-bike would be spinning behind us,
half the time to be hit again by a following pack.

As the end loomed, we were in fifth place, with the
four leading bikes weaving back and forth, nose to tail, looking
for an opening, but saving what extra oomph they had for the final
straightaway where there'd be no time for a comeback. We were
tapping the fourth bike's bumper looking for an angle as we
careened down the final hill. The bike's pilot, Captain Storie,
glanced back to see who was making trouble. I grinned, or at least
grimaced.

Storie, like all the drivers, took up half of the
trail, weaving to try to prevent a competitor from slipping around
by going off the trail, especially when there wasn't a steep hill,
a sharp ravine, or trees close alongside the trail, which wasn't
often. The last straightaway was open on both sides, so the lead
bikes could race side-by-side, though the advantage would be to the
bikes on the trail rather than in the surrounding grass, which is
why the leaders were content to just keep on each other's tail
until that final sprint. But Molaye wasn't.

We made our first move at the second to the last
turn, which briefly allowed a bike to leave the track entirely to
get around a bike before it closed in again before the final bend
and open straightaway. Molaye feinted a dash to the inside of
Storie's bike, and when Storie weaved inside to block us, we braked
briefly and shot alongside on the outside. We were wheel to wheel
for a second as the trees loomed, but managed to bull our way back
onto the track and slip our two forward wheels ahead of theirs.
Storie and I were shoulder to shoulder and working our elbows to
try to push each other off, until we reached the straightaway, when
Molaye pulled out the last of her reserve energy and the sprint
began with a gasped 'All out Captain!'

She steered us onto the grass and flew, as the three
other leaders spread out in the final sprint. We had a little lead
over Storie next to us, so Molaye began to edge in to cut her off,
forcing her to edge in as well. We were ahead of her for fourth
place, but that wasn't enough for Molaye, since the three leading
bikes were only a nose ahead. Ten meters before the finish line,
she pulled her old moon buggy trick, turning sharply into the
leading bikes, locking wheels as every leading bike crunched
together, the pack unable to edge away, which swung our edge of the
pack just enough ahead to carry our starboard wheel over the finish
line half a meter ahead of the tangled pack.

Judging from the loud remarks coming from the tangled
pack, I was far from certain the rules against murder – if they
existed at all – still applied. Molaye wasn't intimidated. She was
delighted. She'd add the Florka Bonanza Cup to her collection. If
we lived. Molaye, however, possessed a certain hard-edged
jauntiness that gives everyone, including her captain, pause before
crossing her. She ignored the simmering hostility and, with her
cheerful good spirits and tales of her moon buggy racing exploits,
brought them around to accepting their defeat – at the hands of a
pro. This proved to be enough of a balm for their bruised egos that
they were standing her celebratory drinks after the award ceremony.
I found, however, that reminding Storie that our victory was a
Guild triumph, did nothing to brighten her mood.

'Next time, Wilcrofter, it'll be in the ravine at my
first opportunity,' she said grimly. 'Guild solidarity be
damned.'

'There won't be a next time, Jyn, if I can help it.
I'm keeping the festival dates on my calender, just to be
certain.'

We departed Plyra six days after the end of Founder's
Festival with 77 containers, bound for Baidora. We'd sold half of
our remaining trade goods at a handsome profit and there'd been no
sign of St Bleyth, so I was feeling pretty braced – once we cleared
Plyra without an Order frigate on our tail. Bound for the Unity, at
last!

Riv, Lilm, Myes and Botts finished constructing Botts
II during the passage. It was interesting to note how easily Botts
now fits into our little society. If it's not sentient, it
certainly has a first class pseudo-sentient interface, since it
acts like and is accepted as just another shipmate. It certainly
helped that it was always lending a hand to everyone in their tasks
even when it was conning the ship. Plus it can converse with you on
any subject and has an endless supply of almost believable yarns
from its spacefaring days of old. We certainly didn't need new crew
members, with it on board, but if I wanted to continue operating as
a Guild ship, I'd have to add at least two to meet Guild
requirements. Finding the right two was going to be a
challenge.

01

We made Baidora in 41 days signaling our arrival
while passing the planetary guard station and slipping into our
assigned orbit to await the quarantine and trade control
inspectors.

Baidora is an oversized, 1.27g planet, with three
large moons. Since heavy industry in the Unity is confined to
moons, Baidora's three moon system made it an important center of
heavy manufacturing for the whole of the Amdia system. Shipyards,
foundries, factories, and large industrial printing facilities
populate the craters of Baidora's three moons. And because Baidora
was an over-standard gravity world, like Sanre-tay, much of its
interplanetary trade and spaceers' row establishments are found
under the domes of Muirnon, its premier moon.

Unlike trade within the Unity, trade between the
Unity and drift trade is not highly regulated since it is so
diffuse and the raw materials are necessary to the Unity. Only when
goods or raw materials are imported, do they become regulated. The
Azminn system is too remote from the drifts to have much drift
trade, but the Amdia lies within the Myzar Drift and so has a very
substantial drift trade. Ores, rare earths and elements, D-matter
parts and machine goods manufactured by the sentient machines in
the Inner Drift arrive daily in Baidora orbit. Agricultural
products and finished consumer goods are exported to dozens of
transfer stations like Plyra and from there, distributed far and
wide in the teeming drifts via drifteer tramps and traders. Though
most of the planets of the Amdia system conduct some direct trade
with the drifts, Baidora conducts at least a third of the system's
trade, making it a very busy port. And, as usual, a small,
nondescript tramp, such as ourselves, has to wait the better part
of a day before the trade control boat arrives..

Though I had a great deal of confidence in Rafe's
expertise, I must confess I paced the bridge as I waited for the
trade control officials. Being somewhat of a coward, and standing
on my dignity as captain, I let Molaye meet the officials at the
gangplank when they did arrive and waited for them outside the
ship's office. I was momentarily startled to see a three person
Patrol crew follow the trade inspectors up the access shaft until I
recalled Tenry once saying part of his duty was to “babysit” trade
control officials during their inspection of ships from the drifts,
which we were, Guild or not, and so relaxed enough to draw a
breath.

I welcomed them aboard, gave the Patrol leave to
search where they cared to and took the lead trade official up to
the cargo control tower to oversee the inspection of our cargo. The
rest of his crew made the usual inspection of our Guild trade goods
while the Patrol officers did a very sketchy search of the ship.
The newly finished Botts II passed inspection without comment. Two
hours later, they left without ever hinting that that we weren't
what we claimed to be – the
Starry Shore
out of Plyra via
Boscone and LaTrina. I dared to let a little dart of sunny optimism
into my thoughts as their boat slipped away. We were home in the
Unity. It felt good.

Several hours later, the first of the lighters
arrived to collect their containers and by the end of our second
day in Baidora orbit, we were free to begin the next phase of the
Starry Shore
's new career.

02

We spent 19 days in Baidora orbit. Six of them
getting the two damaged balancing engines replaced, and replacing
all of the balancing engine cowlings, since I wanted my ship to
look respectable, not like a patched-up, down-in-the-heels tramp
and we could not find any that matched ours in the savage yards.
The matching cowlings were only a start – the hull need a new
protective coat, and though we've grown accustomed to the cut down
engine, and its quirks, I wanted that restored as well – but I was
reluctant to deplete our account until I had a better idea of our
prospects, and both of those projects could be put off for several
years, so I settled for the just the two new balancing engines, the
set of cowlings, and two replacement drones.

At Botts' suggestion we replaced the two drones we
lost with second hand drift drones – larger, longer ranged, and
built with reinforced bows to better handle the deep drift
conditions. They also came equipped with mountings to carry a dozen
small anti-meteor missiles. It assured me that once a class 4 AI
was installed, the drones could be deployed to launch their
anti-meteor missiles at any would-be-pirate, giving us multiple
angles of attack, which sounded well worth the extra credits.

Molaye, Illy, and I spent our days on Muirnon,
calling on the offices of shipbrokers to introduce ourselves and
learning the local cargo patterns and prospects. It was clear from
the beginning that we'd be returning to the drifts. Most of the
interplanetary trade is carried on freight liners rather than
tramps – Baidora being the operations center for many large Charter
Trading Companies who either used their own ships, or those of the
big freight liners. We'd have to settle for the crumbs off their
table – and fight for them with the drifteer tramps. However, as a
Guild ship we had certain advantages – cargoes that missed their
scheduled ships or boxes that were sent along for the first
available Guild ship would fall into our laps and they were
plentiful enough to eke out a bare living, which was enough for me.
I just wanted to establish a reliable reputation that I could use
in time to break into the interplanetary trade once more.

With our refit completed, I set a sailing date and
Molaye, Illy and I began to round up a cargo. Our efforts netted 34
regular containers and three oversized, bulk grain containers for
our first run into the drifts. We'd chosen destinations that would
take us up the drift and further away from Despar. We'd make a
sliver of a profit, if everything went well, even if we picked up
nothing on the way back. But that was to be expected at this stage.
We could afford slivers of profit for some time to come.

As a long time understudy of Captain Miccall and
Illy, I've become something of an old hand in dealing with brokers
and shippers, but Molaye, with her cheerful enthusiasm and her
ability to get an intuitive read on people, quickly became a
favorite with the shipbrokers. And, since Rafe isn't set up in the
Amdia system to track possible cargoes like he was in Azminn,
having a first mate with Molaye's touch was a great plus. I've no
doubt that she'll be a very young ship captain. The best I can do
is to give her a long leash and let her learn as fast as she
can.