Trade Secret (eARC) (13 page)

For her part Iza ran numbers and got ahead of folks as she usually liked to do: the pod pickups were in a mid-orbit and they already trailed
one two three
pretty much on the way to the Jump point so if Iza and Cris were good--they'd be doing the work on this shift anyhow--ship's dinner tonight ought to still be an all-hands affair.

The call for lift-off places made it all seem real--
Gobelyn's Market
, better than ever, back to trade; Iza's call around went quick and she even remembered to call Travit, Grig, and Seeli in one call, which was a clean way to do it.

Seeli, this time at least, got to trade away the admin office for the nursery--Travit had been sitting in with her but for his first lift-off he'd be in Nursery A--that being what Jethri's old room had always been listed in the ship roster, anyway--in what traders usually called a bash-tank. A bash-tank could help hold someone in bad shape together through high-G if need be. When it had the cradle insert in it the bash-tank could lift a near newborn at four Gs but they weren't planning on hotfooting it and any of the usual routes out of the dab-smack if the equator launch point didn't call for anything higher than two-point-six Gs. Still, Grig as medico, would be standing by.

"Set numbers, boards check in!"

Three quick breaths, and boards all showing they were talking to each other, and pilots doing the same, and Khat found she needed a half-cent more of foot room and kicked the seat for that . . .

And then things got really busy, and the dust, dirt, and mud of Kinaveral fell away.

*

They'd worked longer in the day than usual, but the crew was still bright with the return of proper routine and familiar faces. Orbit gained and rendezvous performed
one two three
pretty as could be, they locked in the transship pods while Dyk hijacked assorted bits of the crew's free time as he got together a big meal.

Khat was looking forward to her stint at the board while the first mate and the rest of the ship got the start of dinner; then Grig would come by and relieve her while she got dinner, and then the meeting, after all.

*

They went around then, starting formally at the top, making sure that the crew order was confirmed, one after another, each knowing who was one step up and one step down--and one step sidewise, if that was the case. Iza'd pointed people to places after they came in, but that was just Iza; 'course being captain, they'd moved . . .

"Iza Gobelyn, Captain-Owner and Pilot." Iza said, sounding as even as a pod rail, and just a bit bored. The last time she'd been around crew for something formal it had been the Crew Having a Word; that had been a lot less pleasant for all of those present, and it echoed here, for all that Iza was as pure and clean, drink-or drugwise, as the best hydroponics water. She looked at each of them though, a sweeping look with no fidgeting, giving each one a nod.

"Paitor Gobelyn." Paitor paused, like he had to refigure the talking order. "Co-owner. Trader and Reserve Warehouse. Reserve Docking Pilot," he said.

Khat blinked in the silence between. She'd forgot that last, since it wasn't like him to claim pilot usually, even if they all knew he could. On the other hand, he'd called co-owner first, too, so he hadn't forgot the to-do when Iza'd been given leave to take an outship for the duration of the refit. She guessed she ought to ask if he'd got more time in . . . if he didn't tell the ship credits before they hit Jump.

Sitting next, up against the wall and on the backup board so that someone was on duty, it looked that Cris was caught by Paitor's presentation, too. He hurried, head bobbing, tongue making the words sound short-snapped.

"Cris Gobelyn. First Mate and Pilot. Technical Officer and Maintenance Director, Reserve Admin. Reserve Engineer."

He hand-signed
go
at her, flat-handed and clipped as much as his words. This worried her. Was she out of the circuit? Was he watching a problem?

Her lips worked for her and she nodded up and down once, each time giving little pause, running things together. As she spoke she thought that there was a little oddity--maybe Seeli ought to be in her spot. But Seeli had no claim to pilot, and if that's what Paitor had been on about . . .

"Khatelane Gobelyn. Second Mate. Pilot and Engineer and Reserve Technical Officer."

Done and nodding on, seeing where folks were set now, she saw Seeli, serene, who should have been one up the ladder, at least.

"Seeli Gobelyn, Admin and Reserve Chef."

Hesitant, then came, "Dyk Gobelyn, Chef, 'ponics and Supplies," who knew of all things that Iza'd sat him too high, with only the kids properly belonging below him. For his goodness, Dyk did mutter low on the ears when he nodded at Grig, saying "'Serve, next."

Well, that was clear. Someone had given Dyk an order he didn't like, but he'd come back to the ship when, like any of them 'cept the two youngest, he might have had honest work anywhere in good space, long as he didn't need Liaden tickets. After all, he had his investment, and then Grig began and had everyone's attention, not just hers.

Cold. Accurate. Sounding so much like an Arin it had to be on purpose, the first part, and then nodding expansive and calm to Dyk, relaxing maybe, but sounding then amazingly like Arin's Jethri, whose voice was yet too young to be Arin's, and maybe never would be.

"Grig Tomas. Chief Medico. Chief System Engineer. Reserve Pilot. Warehouse and Reserve Chef."

The first part, the "Chief Medico" and "Chief Systems Engineer," that had been said, spiteless, but right to Iza. "Reserve Pilot," that had been said to Cris mostly, and to Paitor, and then to her, for all that it ought to be a lie. Grig Tomas had been Arin's pilot besides being his cousin, and Arin, who had been a damn fine pilot, put Grig above him in a pinch. Warehouse and Reserve Chef, that had been to Dyk alright. And Dyk knew like Grig did that half of his skill was learned from Grig.

That was the thing about Grig. He knew things. Lots of things. Grig was older'n he looked, had small-ship flying time and he'd been a board pilot for a couple of middling cruise ships, too. That older-than-he-looked stuff--the man was always busy with something, getting certified, accredited, studying, reading, collecting, knowing. He'd been part of Jethri's orbit when the boy'd needed steadying, and it was hard to know what he knew because he stayed busy, and knew what he knew because he'd flown the route. Thing is that Grig could probably run the whole darn ship by himself if he needed to, and ought to be something up the ladder on the pay scale and on the crew call.

Mel was patient for a change, like he'd just learned something. When he did speak, it was low and respectful, like he'd learned something too when he'd been off-ship working the yards and such.

"Mel Gobelyn, Technical Mate, Reserve Medico and Reserve Warehouse." Mel nodded to everyone, and so did Zam, right behind:

"Zam Gobelyn, Assistant Admin and Reserve Supplies."

Seeli spoke up then, reminding the whole crew, and Iza too:

"There's also my son, Travit; he's a general trainee with ten week's experience, trip-berthed in Seven A when he's not with me."

Khat almost hurt her neck when she stopped herself from searching everyone on that. Seeli'd made no secret of her and Grig's being a pair for the long run, nor of her and Grig sticking with the ship. What was missing here was that last name: would be Tomas if Seeli was willing to travel off-ship with him if need be and Gobelyn if she was staying no matter what--or if Iza, lacking a vote of the crew, had formed a major opinion. Not having that name yet, that was a sign that deciding hadn't been finished, which Khat couldn't measure as a good thing.

Ship's airflow became suddenly loud, along with the sound of breathing and the little sounds people just sitting make. Cris in particular was making sounds as he sat the reserve board--that in part because he had to check it in sequence, chording the nonessentials, and in part because he was nibbling on the edge of saying something that wouldn't quite come out.

"Proposal on Precedence," he finally managed, which turned all the heads at once--it was one of the few things that had to be dealt with immediately since ship's command structure needed always to be clear, and if he was challenging Iza's rating of Grig--

Iza sat straighter, smiling countenance gone all gamble-face. Around the room others sat taut and quiet as well, but no one called the point. Grig sighed, very gently, since
someone
needed to recognize the call, and did so just before Khat could open her mouth to accept it.

"Captain, crew has need to discuss a Proposal on Precedence. First Mate begs attention."

Khat remembered to breathe, wondering if she'd been left out of a premeeting discussion somehow, and watching the hands of those who had them above the table, and the faces of others: some nerves here, of a sudden.

Properly, if with an edge, came Iza's return: "Are you acting as joint ref on this, Grig Tomas?"

Grig shook his head side to side, showed palms up.

"Not unless needed, Captain, just getting the move on. Crew ought to be set before Jump if there's something to change."

Iza nodded, made an
open channel
hand-sign, and said, "Station's yours, Cris Gobelyn."

Cris nodded, to each of them, and motioned
sorry on delay
as he stood away from the monitors so everyone could see him clearly.

"Captain," he said with a nod, and then, "family." He looked down at his hands as if surprised to see them still forming
delay
and
sorry,
and laughed, letting the smile fade into a wry grin.

"If we hadn't been quite so pressed for time," he offered diffidently, "I'd have had time to do this with some discussion so no one would be surprised. Couldn't happen that way, so here's the thing."

He made a quick motion encompassing the room and the people.

"We're all here, and that's great, and we're all able to do our jobs. That's really good--we've all got confidence there. Might be some got a little more on their day sheet than others, but that's always the way. There's changes--looks like stinks run is spread out some but it's a chore that's sixty percent easier now than it used to be, I think."

He paused, looked to Iza, and then to Khat. His grin got obvious for a moment, then flitted away.

"Ship's changed, though, that's my point. I figure that it's not quite the ship we know yet, and we're not the same crew as was doing things together as we were before."

Cris looked to Seeli, made a
see you
motion and went on.

"So, Admin, it'll be hard to schedule everyone until we know how
this
crew flies
this
ship. Captain, it'll be hard to be sure of where's the blind spots for local, just like we got to make sure the clean sheets we have will go as far as the catalog tells us. A lot of the changes here go across all my jobs."

Finish
said his hands, and he summed up quickly, touching left hand to right palm with each point.

"Red--change to the ship systems, from controls to vid sensors to locks."

"Orange--change to maintenance specs and expectations."

"Yellow--change to trade hardware, podlocks, stasis systems."

"Green--restructuring of crew-missions."

"Blue--change in personnel experience levels, training, and competencies."

He paused, and hit the final point with an audible slap to the palm:

"Violet--as my time off-ship was spent as a backup and reserve officer on a large vessel and my actual board time was minimal, I suggest Khat--with numerous recent high-grade commands to her credit--take over first mate duties at least until our shakedown is complete. I should assume my primary role as technical officer and maintenance director and be placed in reserve pilot mode as well as retain my other reserve roles. I can best serve the ship and crew by helping us know the ship as well as we can."

Khat closed her mouth firmly, seeing the truth of it. She was not going to shout out for her own promotion, though. Even a temporary one . . .

The sharp laugh was from Iza, and it was followed by a thin smile and a small shake of her head, as if she'd not quite expected this bit of a proposal when there'd been so many other possibles.

"Pilot math there, son. I appreciate it and wouldn't have suggested it if you hadn't--but there, I'm for it. Show of thumbs and we can declare it done!"

Thumbs up all the way around, and there it was: Khat Gobelyn was first mate on the ship she'd grown up on.

Iza waved them up and about, charging the lot of them with their duty:

"Let's get us away from this smelly mudball and get Paitor his new run. But one thing you all have to remember: as good as this ship is, we're owed from a promise and a payout to get in line for something better."

Here she stared at Grig, and then at Seeli.

"You'll be in the chair rotation more regular than I thought, Grig Tomas. You and Seeli are gonna work, we're fine with that. But Travit Tomas now, Travit's call on this ship is ship-born passenger. My chair ain't his, and that stands until he's on his own way! Too much of Arin's nonsense about you still, unless Uncle's shipyard ain't a myth, after all. You hear from that side, I need to know it."

*

There'd been one last bit of business at Kinaveral, and that was setting up that Jump list, and it looked like a bunch of someones had decided at the same time to flex just a little bit of energy, because there on the emergency where-to list was Vertville. Everyone but Iza . . .

"I see some jokes just don't get old, do they? I have to say, from technical viewpoints, from security viewpoints, Vertville makes some sense. Lots of ships go in there and some of the regs are kinda fuzzy. Not so hard to find a berth; not too hard to find a meal. And . . ."

"Fourth best connectivity point in this quadrant, Iza," Paitor said patiently, "and the three better are Liaden controlled. Really isn't a joke even if . . ."

"Oh, no, Paitor, still a joke. Arin's joke on us, and on me, letting the kid play with make-believe routes and then having us run it. Commissioner has a lot of say, you know, and we'd needed a break, he said, so we did it--just like it was an accident. Damn fine joke the way he convinced all of you the place had some special sentiment for me, damn fine joke that he'd set up a commissioner's meeting without letting hardly anyone know, and good, good joke that he happened to have lotsa old contacts there."