In Ashes Born (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) (10 page)

“What would have happened if you had not met Alys Giggone?” she asked.

“I’d have been deported, probably.”

“Then what?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. I never thought about it.”

“Yet at the time, the notion that you might be cast adrift in a sea of unknown with no skills, no credits, and no support terrified you enough to launch yourself into the Deep Dark.”

“Yes.”

“In all that time, have you never considered what must happen to the people who are not fortunate enough to find their Alys Giggone in the nick of time?”

The question caught me by the nose and tweaked it. “I—no. I was so focused on what was in front of me, I never thought about anything else.”

Her smile came back, just teasing the left corner of her lips. “Just as you were so focused this morning that you didn’t notice you wore two different colored socks.”

I grinned. “Apparently.”

“Or a pair of workout pants with the seat ripped out.”

I felt the heat flash across my skin. “What? Really?” I stuck a hand back to feel for confirmation that I’d been working with her all morning with my boxers hanging out the back.

Her smile blossomed across her lips but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No,” she said. “But you weren’t sure for a moment. Your reality shifted just enough for you to question what you thought you knew.”

I nodded, more concerned with her eyes than her lips.

“Your time here is nearly done. As you sail back out into the Deep Dark, consider that question. What happens to the people who fall through the cracks? The person you might have been had you not found Alys Giggone in time.”

I nodded. “Thank you,
Sifu
. I will.”

“While you ponder that, look around. Really look. Look beyond what you think you know. Look beyond what you’ve been told. Look beyond the hundred degrees and find the reality where it lives.”

I knew she was trying to tell me something, but couldn’t quite wrap my head around it, not even enough to ask her for clarification.

She tipped her mug up and drained the tea from it. “I’ve got business this morning, so we’ll have to end our session here for today.”

I nodded and lifted my cup to finish my tea as well.

“Stay. Take your time. Turn out the lights when you leave.” She stood and rinsed her cup, leaving it in the drain as always.

I watched her cross the studio and stop at the door.

She turned once more. “While you are considering, consider this. How does an assassin get paid?” With a final wave, she slipped out the door, closing it behind her with a quiet snick.

I sat there for a very long time, considering.

When I finally drank my tea, it was cold.

Chapter Ten
Port Newmar:
2374, June 5

I had to knock twice before a rumpled Pip answered the door, blinking at the morning light. “Morning already?”

“Up and at ’em,” I said.

He backed away from the doorway and I followed him into the cottage. The living room was surprisingly neat, given the party I’d heard. Pip shuffled into the kitchen and I followed. He pulled two mugs from the cupboard, slopped some coffee from a thermal carafe into each, and handed me one.

I took a sip and sat at the table, hunched over the mug cradled in my hands.

He sat across from me and raked a hand through his hair. “You look like hell,” he said. “I’m the one who’s hung over.”

“Long morning,” I said, shaking myself to try to release the spell that Margaret Newmar had cast. “We need to talk.”

He nodded. “Yeah. If I remember, you said that last night. Partners?”

I shrugged. “Seems the right answer.”

He yawned, winced, and took a pull from his mug. “What’re you thinking? Joint partnership?”

“Incorporation. Limited Liability as a minimum, but filing for incorporation isn’t that hard and leaves us some options for financing in the future.”

Pip blinked and offered a half smile. “My goodness, how quickly they grow up!”

“We’ll need a lawyer and some board members,” I said.

“And an engineer.”

“And a ship,” I said. “But if we lose the bid on the
Chernyakova
we can lease one short-term.”

Pip raised his eyebrows as if stretching out his face and blinked a few more times. “You
have
thought about this.”

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Why don’t you look happy?”

I shook my head. “Margaret Newmar asked a few questions this morning that I hadn’t thought about. I’m not pleased with myself that I’ve never thought about them.”

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “Such as?”

“What if I hadn’t found Alys Giggone back on Neris? What would have happened to me?”

He snorted and lifted his mug to his mouth, speaking into it. “Knowing you? You’d have been a land baron by the time you turned thirty.” He took a sip and set the cup down. “Why’s that so important now?”

“I don’t know. Something’s out of whack and I’ve just never questioned it before.” I chewed my lip rather than say anything else.

“They’re not your problem.”

“Who’s not?” I asked.

He sighed. “The people who fall through the cracks. The ones who don’t find an Alys Giggone. This is your conversation. Try to keep up.”

“Yes, but where are they?” I asked.

“You ever visit planet-side?”

I shook my head. “Neris and Port Newmar.”

“Company town and college town. Not exactly typical, but how much time did you spend actually in town when you were here?”

“I wandered around a bit.”

“I’m not talking about drinking at the Flying Mermaid.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “You ever visit South Side?”

I shrugged. “Not that I remember.”

“You’d remember.”

“Wait, wasn’t that the part of town they warned cadets about?”

“Yeah. They promised captain’s masts for cadets caught there. You ever wonder why?”

I shook my head, feeling very dumb.

“Most cadets caught there have trouble finishing their training. That’s a big investment to flush away for a night on the wild side.” He took a slurp from his mug. “How desperate were you back on Neris?”

“I don’t even remember. Pretty desperate. I signed up for a job I knew nothing about on a ship that would take me away from the only life I’d ever known.”

He nodded. “And you had a full belly, warm clothes, and a safe place to sleep.”

I felt a cold draft slide down my back.

Pip spun his mug between his fingers and looked across the table from under bushy, snow-white brows. “You were in Diurnia. You ever run across a place called Odin’s Outpost?”

“Yes. In deep space equidistant from Dree, Breakall, Welliver, and Jett.”

“Ever visit it?”

“No. Just flew by. It was close to the shortest course from Dree to Jett and Breakall to Welliver. We pulled a double jump into the dark and then back out to port.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Not much. It’s seen as a kind of destination for those who are looking to get out from under CPJCT control. Scanners showed a lot of traffic in and out when we flew by. We never stopped for a beer. Lots of stories. Supposedly started by a one-eyed guy when his ship lost its Burleson drive on a routine jump through the region. I had a second mate who was convinced it was actually a pirate hangout called ‘High Tortuga.’”

Pip grinned at that. “Really?”

“He saw pirates everywhere. Anytime anything happened on the ship, it was pirates.”

“You flew with him long?”

I shrugged. “Stanyer. He could thread a needle like nobody’s business.”

“He sewed?”

“Astrogation.”

“Oh, yeah.” Pip shrugged. “Hung over. Did I mention that?”

“Couple of times. You want breakfast?”

He swallowed a couple of times. “I’ll settle for a handful of analgesics for now, thanks.” He got up and went into the bathroom. I heard him rummaging around for a moment followed by the sound of a pill bottle popping open. He returned with his chin held up and took a slurp of coffee. “There.”

“What about it?”

“Huh?”

“Odin’s Outpost?” I asked. “This is your conversation. Try to keep up.”

He offered me another sideways grin. “Hung over. Did I—?”

“You mentioned it.”

He shrugged and topped off his mug before holding up the carafe with a question on his face. I pushed my mug over, and he topped it off, too.

“You ever wonder why Odin’s Outpost exists?”

“Not really. Emergency resupply. High rollers who like a little danger to spice up going broke.”

He slouched into his chair and buried his face in his mug for a moment. “Yeah. That, but as a business model?”

“Seems to be working for them.”

Pip sighed. “It’s a gateway.”

“Gateway to what?”

“The Dark Side.”

“You’re making this up.”

He shook his head, somewhat gingerly. “No. We jumped the
Bad Penny
through the Deep Dark on our way here from St. Cloud, remember?”

“Sure. I’ve done it myself flying around Diurnia. What of it?”

“Well, what if—and I’m just talking hypothetically here—what if there were stations not sanctioned by the CPJCT?”

I took a belt of the coffee. “Hypothetically.”

He gave a little sideways nod of his head. “Hypothetically.”

“So, no trade regulations. No orbitals,” I said.

“No regulations. Period.”

“No law?” I asked.

He shrugged.

“We joked about how Odin disposed of the bodies, but I guess I never considered that was something real.”

“You never run out of freezer space out there,” he said with a nod toward the ceiling.

I took another sip of coffee and something Geoff Maloney’s bodyguard had told me once came unbidden from the back of my mind. “Some other hidey hole,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Something a little bird told me once. How many of these gateways are there?”

He shrugged. “I’ve found one in Ciroda. There’s at least one in Diurnia. Two in Dunsany. There’s rumored to be one here in Venitz. They’re not exactly regulated so they don’t appear on any official charts.”

“Not even as a HazNav?”

“HazNavs only appear on regulated routes.”

I pondered that as I sipped my coffee. “How do you find this Dark Side if it’s not on the charts?”

“It’s not on official charts. If you know a guy who knows a guy, you can get them.”

I snorted. “You know a guy who knows a guy?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

“That’s all beside the point,” I said. “We have a company to form. A ship to buy.”

Pip sat up straight. “Indeed we do.” He held his mug up and I clinked mine to it across the table. “To better deals in the afternoon,” he said.

“Better deals!” I took a gulp and looked at the chrono. “Speaking of which, it’s almost lunchtime. I need a shower, and then we need to make some notes to take to the lawyer.”

Pip lifted an arm and gave himself a sniff. “Yeah. Good plan. You’re a captain. Call the O Club and catering service for 1230. That’ll give me a chance to sober up, get cleaned up, and see where Roland is with the repairs. We need to be in Breakall in time for the auction in a few weeks.”

“Can we make it?” I asked, suddenly aware of just how long the voyage could take.

He grinned.

“All right, then,” I said and left to do the needful.

I crossed back to my cottage, the fug of low tide pinching my nose. I looked up at the clouds building in from offshore. Looked like a storm brewed to the east. It would make the evening hours a bit noisy if history was any predictor.

When I opened my door, I remembered why I was wearing two mismatched socks. I scrounged around for a clean set of khakis and pondered what to do about the mess. I eyed the chrono. It flipped over to 1137. A stan before lunch.

“Priorities, Ishmael. Call. Shower. Mess.”

A card on the desk had the information I needed to place the order for lunch. The steward assured me it would be delivered at 1230. Being a captain had its advantages after all.

That amusing thought accompanied me into the shower. It took next to no time to strip down, sluice off the worst of it, and slip into my undress uniform. I had to scrounge around for a set of stars and realized I had a collection of them that needed to be put on the dining room table with my photo and the whelkies. I smiled at myself in the mirror as I pinned on the scarred stars that had belonged to Fredi’s grandfather. I always got a little boost when I put them on. If only they could talk.

I found a pair of matching socks and slipped on a pair of comfy shipboots before surveying the wreckage.

“Priorities,” I muttered and began a triage. ‘Must keep’ was the small collection on the dining room table. I checked to see that both trunks were empty and mentally labeled the one to starboard ‘Toss It’ and the other ‘Could Live Without.’

I started on the table because we’d need that to eat and plot. Any shipsuit that wasn’t new and pristine went into the ‘Toss It’ bin. I tossed most of them. Civvies went into the ‘Could Live Without’ since I’d gotten all of them on Diurnia, but were all a stanyer old. Most of the socks, ship-tees, and boxers went into that trunk as well. Those with worn elastic, sweat stains, or other problems went into the ‘Toss It’ bin. The painting clothes from the
Iris
, I understood, but I wondered where I’d gotten into so much blue paint while in my shorts. My two good dress blues and one good dress white uniforms went into the ‘Must Keep’ pile along with two sets of intact undress khakis.