In Ashes Born (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) (43 page)

Powers ground his teeth together so hard I could hear them squeak. He scowled at me for several long moments. I thought he might say something, but he never found the handle on his tongue. With a final grunt, he stalked away.

“Thank you, Officer,” I said.

He grinned and stuck a thumb in his belt. “Thank you, Captain. You’ve always treated us right. Nice to be able to return the favor. That guy’s a menace to the orbital. Good to see him put in his place.”

I looked at the man’s face. “Do I know you?”

He shook his head. “Doubt it. We know you, though. You been flying in and out of Breakall for stanyers. We know all the troublemakers,” he said with a grin. “You’re not one of ’em.” He started to walk away but stopped to wave at the line. I thought he was just waving to be friendly until somebody way down the dock waved back. The guard turned. “My brother. He’s number three eighty-five. Good day, Captain.” He winked and strolled off in Powers’s wake, gathering his squad as he went.

By 1500 we had gotten through the line of civilians and the whole crew had flaked out on the mess deck. Ms. Sharps had laid on a lunch mess of bread, cold cuts, and soup, which sustained us through the ordeal. A few members of the crew still had sandwiches in their hands.

“It might have been easier to do it ourselves, Skipper,” Al said.

She got a rousing groan of agreement from the assembled crew.

“I couldn’t believe people were coming off and going around to get into line again,” Pip said. “When we got into the three-fifties, I looked down the dock and the line was almost as long as when we started.”

The chief shrugged. “People. This business would be a lot easier without them.”

I thought about number one and smiled. “Maybe,” I said. While it might have been easier, it certainly wouldn’t have been as worthwhile.

I stood. “All right, crew. Excellent job. You each have my thanks for stepping up to the task for the day, even if it was a little unorthodox. Next we need to get people assigned to watches, get the brow covered, get the remaining spaces cleaned enough for us to live in them. Ms. Ross, how are we in berthing?”

“The day workers did a hell of a job, Skipper. All we need is a little polish on the decks and some brass shined and it would pass inspection.” She grinned at the crew who dutifully groaned and hid behind each other and their coffee mugs. “Seriously. Bedding is due by 1600 along with the hygiene supplies we need for the head. Anybody who wants to or needs to can stay aboard tonight.”

I saw a couple of people perk up at that.

“If you didn’t bring your duffel with you or need to tie up your port-side affairs, we’ll take a break after we get the bedding in and assigned. You’re all sharing the one berthing area for now; there should be one bunk per person.”

“A situation I’d like to have remain,” I said.

Al chuckled. “What I was getting at is that you’ll have to go down and claim a bunk. You’ll have to settle disputes among yourselves. Arm wrestling is acceptable but I’d prefer something more equitable like a random number on your tablets. Fisticuffs will be dealt with in the normal manner. We’ll let you off at the Burleson limit and you can walk home.”

“That brings up something,” I said. “How many don’t have ship tablets of your own?”

Most of the junior ratings and one of the spec threes from engineering raised their hands.

“Anybody that has one of their own that they don’t want to use?”

A couple more people raised their hands.

“Mr. Carstairs, would you order us some tablets from the chandlery? Standard crew models. I think we get ten in a box.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Next on the agenda, official Phoenix Freight shipsuits. Tomorrow we’ll swing everybody through the chandlery to get your suits with the
Chernyakova
shoulder patch along with any ship-tees or boxers. If you have any personal needs, let somebody know.”

I looked around at the exhausted expressions. Even Ms. Sharps and her gang from the galley looked tired.

“Any questions?” I asked.

Bentley raised his hand.

“Mr. Bentley?”

“Any estimate on when we’ll leave for Dree?”

“I’m hoping we’ll be getting underway within the next few days. I’d like to give Chief Stevens a chance to make sure that we can make it to Dree alive before we undock. That’s just my personal preference.”

I looked to Ms. Sharps. “Evening mess?”

“Evening mess will be served at 1800, sar. Nothing fancy, but we got a shipment in this morning and we’ll have another tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” I turned to the crew. “All right. I need three watch sections. First watch gets set at 1800, just like a real ship. It’ll be the first watch this ship has seen in over two stanyers, and I expect everybody to do their jobs to the best of their abilities. If you have a problem you can’t solve, tell somebody. If you see something you don’t understand, ask somebody. If you find yourself in a situation that you feel is dangerous, make sure somebody knows. And if you find yourself alone in the night, shut up and stand your watch.”

They laughed.

“You’ve all heard enough pep talks, so you don’t need to hear one from me. Remember the best one you ever heard and pretend I’m saying it to you now. I’ve got work to do and so do you.” I turned to Al. “Carry on, Ms. Ross.”

I left the mess deck to my crew and climbed the ladder to the cabin. I did have work to do, but mostly it consisted of getting out from under foot so my officers could do their jobs. I ran a finger across the stars that Fredi had given me and wondered where she was, what she was doing.

Chapter Forty-Two
Breakall System:
2374-August 18

It took Chief Stevens four more days to get the last of the diagnostics completed and decide the ship was spaceworthy. We’d sold the hydraulic fluid and paid off the docking fees.

That cargo handler brought his son by on his birthday. We weren’t able to give him a tour but answered his questions about maybe signing The Articles when he came of age. To do that effectively, we needed to show him areas of the ship like the bridge, the engine room, berthing areas and the galley. He shared lunch mess with the crew and Sharps even made him a little happy birthday cake to celebrate. His father took digitals of him sitting in the captain’s chair on the bridge. My hat was too large for him, but it was adorable.

Even after our big cleaning spree, people kept coming to the lock with their sponges. They wanted to know if we needed any more help. I had to leave standing orders for the brow watch to thank them kindly but assure them that they’d cleaned enough.

Murphy, a spec two ship handler who seemed to have some grasp of reality beyond beer and boys, told me about one guy who asked and then started crying when she turned him away. “Not in a blubbery way, sar. He just looked really sad and these tears started running down his face. He thanked me real polite and walked away up the dock.”

“Sponge number one?” I asked.

“I don’t know, sar. He had a sponge, but I didn’t see the number.”

I left standing orders that if sponge number one ever came back to page me, but he never did. I looked up his name and address in Pip’s records. He worked in cargo handling down on one of the lower decks. I never followed through on looking him up, but something about him stuck with me. Bothered me in a way I couldn’t really get a handle on.

When the tugs pulled us out of the dock, I thought of him. A crowd had gathered on the observation deck above our dock. I couldn’t see very well through the glare off the station’s skin but I thought a few people waved. I wondered if he was up there, waving to us the way he’d never been able to wave to his daughter. I had no way to signal back, but in all my stanyers in space, docking and undocking at orbitals around the Western Annex, that was the first time I ever noticed people waving good-bye.

“Captain, tugs report we’re clear of the station and ready to push out for the safety perimeter,” Al said.

“Thank you, Ms. Ross. Steady as you go.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. Steady as you go.”

I rode out in the communications console instead of the captain’s chair. I kept track of ship’s systems and communications traffic while the chief watched over the engine room in person. Al held down the duty watch station and a spec one ship handler with the improbable name of Horatio Jones sat at helm. Pip joined us and watched from one of the spare seats. I’m sure it was a sight he’d seen as often as I had, but the expression on his face still held a sense of wonder, of awe. I wondered if mine did.

In the week or so we spent on Breakall, we’d gotten our watch sections straightened out. I knew the names of the crew at least well enough to recognize their name tags at a distance even if I didn’t actually know their faces. Twenty-seven crew was more than I’d worked with since leaving the
Tinker
. After working with a tractor crew, the ship seemed practically crawling with hands even though we were at half our allocation.

I keyed the travel permit notice into the beacon so ships spotting us would know we were running short-handed on the way to the yard. I set it for automatic broadcast at the required interval. I’d had to look it up because it had been so long since I’d been third mate, I’d forgotten what the interval was.

The tugs slipped us through station traffic and got us lined up in less than half a stan, then signaled they were ready to let us go under our own power. “Tugs report we’re clear of station traffic, Ms. Ross.”

“Thank you, Captain. Should I notify the chief?”

“If you please, Ms. Ross.”

I heard her tapping on her console for a moment. “Chief Stevens reports we’re ready to light off the kickers, Captain.”

I watched the tugs’ links on our systems board until they’d cast us loose. “Tugs have released us. Helm, ahead one quarter on my mark.”

“Aye, aye, on your mark, ahead one quarter, Captain.”

I stood and walked to the rear of the bridge to watch the tugs fall away astern. I let them get well clear. “Mark,” I said.

“Ahead one quarter, sar.”

At the stern I saw just a flickering of light as the kickers ignited and started pushing us out to the safety limit where we’d be able to raise sail and begin our passage in earnest. We still had a couple of stans to go before we got there and not a lot to do on the way.

I planted myself in the captain’s chair and glanced at Al, who seemed to be absorbed in the minutiae of making sure we stayed on course.

The shadow under the helm’s chair caught my eye. My memory overlaid the first time I’d seen it, hung over the after side of the bridge, peering in through the armorglass at the tragedy within. I remembered all the bodies. I remembered the smell. The sense of helplessness that filled me then came back and threatened to overwhelm me.

Never in all the time since had I ever imagined I’d be back on this ship, sitting in the captain’s chair.

Pip shifted in his seat to look at me. I could just make out his white hair and goatee and the twinkle of his silver earring in the dim light of the consoles. His teeth flashed in a grin and I found myself smiling back. He’d been right. I had been afraid.

I glanced behind me and looked at the orbital already shrinking away. For a moment I remembered the sapphire daggers that had pierced me so tenderly and felt my chest rise and fall in a sigh. Then I remembered the man in a tatty coat, wet to his elbows, scrubbing the bulkhead in the spine as if washing the face of his child after dinner.

“All I could think of was my Em out there on a ship,” he’d said.

I straightened around in my seat and faced forward. I didn’t look at the stain, but I felt the pressure of all their deaths. The helmsman, the duty watchstander. The crew in their bunks and the messenger in the spine. All dead. All lost, because somebody took a short cut.

I’d been so quick to judge. To call it stupid. To vent my anger against the forces that put the crew in a position to take desperate chances.

I remembered the sapphire daggers that had stopped me from cutting a corner, from taking a chance that might have left us smeared across two dozen square kilometers of frozen rock all for the sake of a few credits.

“Never again,” I said. “Never again.”

“Captain?” Al asked.

“How far to the safety perimeter, Ms. Ross?”

“Couple of stans at the current velocity, Captain.”

“Thank you, Ms. Ross. Helm, ahead full.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. Ahead full.”

The ship shook slightly as the massive engines drank fuel and spit fire behind us, pushing us into the Deep Dark. We rode along in near silence, the engine’s vibration keeping us company as the ship surged through the cold.

Finally, Al said, “We’re coming up on the safety perimeter, Captain.”

“Thank you, Ms. Ross. Please notify Chief Stevens to secure the engines, and prepare to hoist the mains.”

“Aye, aye, sar. Secure engines and prepare to hoist the mains, sar.”

I felt the rumble from the engines die out as we coasted along.

“We are clear of the safety perimeter, Captain.”

“Very well, Ms. Ross. Raise the mains, extend the keel.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. Raising mains and extending keel.”