Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (35 page)

I slipped into a fresh shipsuit, and as I transferred the contents of my pockets, I realized I still had the owner’s key. I bounced it in my hand a couple of times, and wondered if I better keep it on the ship after all. The ship had a safe, but I suspected I needed to get a locksmith to open it and change the combination for me. I slipped the key into my pocket again, and began the serious business of business.

At 0545 I was on the mess deck, and vaguely discomfited that we didn’t have a watch set. Strictly speaking it wasn’t necessary on a ship our size—or even possible. I was responsible for the ship. Period. I contemplated the coffee urn, but decided to wait until we got back to make a fresh pot.

At 0555 the two ratings showed up on the mess deck wearing their new shipsuits. Ms. Arellone looked quite snazzy in hers. Ms. Maloney looked even better. The coverall suited her tall, slender figure and she had folded the sleeves back to form a kind of french cuff.

“How was your first night aboard?” I asked them as they strolled onto the mess deck.

Ms. Arellone beamed. “Those mattresses are the best. I liked it better than the one up at the Lagrange Point.”

Ms. Maloney smiled. “I have to say, Captain, it was rather unexpected. A very nice touch.”

“We’re going to spend a lot of time here. We may as well be comfortable,” I said.

Ms. Maloney asked, “Is it an extravagance, do you think, Captain?”

“The incremental cost between the good bedding and the okay bedding wasn’t that much, Ms. Maloney. Given that we’d have to buy okay bedding, because anything less wasn’t worth buying, the question became moot rather fast.”

“Would you have a different opinion if you had to buy forty mattresses instead of four, Captain?”

I pondered that for a moment. “Actually, I wonder if it wouldn’t make even more sense with forty.”

“How so, Captain?”

“One of the characteristics of these mattresses—besides that they’re a lot more comfortable—they’re also a lot more durable. If I’m replacing forty mattresses every three or four stanyers, and I can buy one that costs only twenty-five percent more but stretch my replacement period to five to seven stanyers, then that’s a good deal.”

She frowned, and she might have said something else, but the chief came shuffling on to the mess deck.

“How come there’s no banging coffee, huh?” He stuck his head forward and twisted his neck to look accusingly at the two ratings and then at me. “No coffee? You?”

“Sorry, Chief,” I said. “I’m looking for mine, too, but no sense to make it and let it get cold. Let’s go find some breakfast, and get back before the chandlery delivery arrives. I’ll make a fresh pot then.”

He sighed dramatically, threw his arms up in exasperation, and stomped off the mess deck toward the ladder. “Come on, then, day’s wastin’ while yer burnin’ oh-two.”

Ms. Arellone’s lips twitched a little, and Ms. Maloney looked positively confused.

“Shall we try to catch up with him?” I suggested.

Ms. Arellone scampered out, and Ms. Maloney followed more sedately. I bumped the lighting panel on the way, and followed them down the ladder. By the time the chief had the lock open, Ms. Arellone had caught up with him and scooted out ahead of him, head moving before she cleared the lock.

“Over Easy, Ms. Arellone,” I called.

She shot me a look but then shrugged. We were going to be aboard for a long time, and I wanted one more pile of Frank’s Finest before we left.

Ms. Maloney followed the grumbling chief down the ramp and, with a few quick strides, I caught up with her as she stepped on the dock. Ms. Arellone waited but the chief stomped down the dock, leaving a plume of breath in the chilled air as he went.

I slapped the lock plate, and nodded for Ms. Arellone to lead on. The chief waited for us at the maintenance hatch, holding it open with a scowl as the women stepped through, and giving me a nod and a wink as I followed.

He slammed and dogged the hatch behind me, and ambled along with a petulant look on his face, although giving up his grumbling tirade.

“You ever eat at Over Easy, Chief?”

He looked up at me with a grin. “Oh, aye, Cap. Man has magic in his spatula, I swear.” He sighed. “That’ll be the downside of shippin’ out, I’m guessin’.”

“What’s that, Chief? You can’t eat there?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah. Least wise, there’s somethin’ to look forward to comin’ home to, though, right?”

“Very true, Chief.”

In just a few ticks we pushed through the door, and the heavenly aromas of hot coffee, savory bacon, and frying onions threatened me with pure bliss. Ms. Arellone locked up just inside the door, unable to deal with the crowd in threat assessment mode.

“Easy, Ms. Arellone. Nobody’s expecting us here.”

She nodded, not stopping her scan. I looked over the heads of the crowd, and realized that my usual habit of grabbing an empty stool at the counter wouldn’t work with an extended party. I started scanning for a table, but the blond guy behind the counter caught my eye and pointed to a booth tucked off to the side. I could see the busboy just clearing it.

“Eleven o’clock, Ms. Arellone. Tucked in the back corner.”

She swiveled, and started eeling through the crowd, the chief right on her heels and opening a wider path. Ms. Maloney flowed through the gap, and even walking that closely behind her, I couldn’t help but notice how well that shipsuit fit her.

I sighed, and shook my head.

We slipped into the booth just as the busboy finished wiping it off, and took his tub of dirty dishes through the swinging door.

Ms. Arellone pointed me into the corner, and nodded to Ms. Maloney to put her across from me, before she and the chief took seats outboard of us. Anybody coming for us would have to go through them. While I admired the sentiment, I still had a hard time with the overt paranoia.

A dark haired guy I recognized as Phil ambled over to the table. He scanned us once, apparently checking rank insignia, and focused on me. “Morning, Captain.”

“Morning, Phil. Coffees all around, I’ll have Frank’s Finest, three over, three bacon, wheat toast.”

He gathered orders from the others at the table and slipped back behind the counter to turn it in. He returned instantly with packets of flatware, mugs, and a thermal carafe that he used for the first round, and then left on the table.

“That’ll be right up, folks.” He smiled, and moved to the next table.

I grabbed my cup, and took a few heartbeats to savor it while I looked around the table. The chief leaned in, and barely lifted the mug from the table before finding the rim with this lip and sipping. Ms. Arellone had a hard time adding cream, and watching all the people in the restaurant, while Ms. Maloney watched me over the top of her mug, while she sipped daintily from it.

One thing about Over Easy that I never ceased to marvel at—besides the food—was that it didn’t matter how many people were there, you didn’t need to wait long for your meal. Maybe it was that they specialized on breakfast and were able to keep things cooking even before the orders came in. It took a little longer to get food for four together, but even in the morning rush, our wait was surprisingly brief.

Phil brought our meals over, and distributed them within just a few ticks, and even refilled the coffee for us before moving on. He never seemed to hurry, but he was always moving. The man was smooth.

I was about halfway through my pile of potatoes when Ms. Arellone said, “Maybe trouble.” Her voice was low, and directed into the center of the table. Her inflection made it sound like she might have said, “Pass the pepper.”

The chief asked, “Where away?” in that same conversational tone without actually looking up from his plate.

“My nine. Far end of the counter. Bullet head and flattop paying too much attention to us.”

I kept my head down, and kept eating.

“Tourists,” the chief said after a minute. He looked over at me, and elbowed me with one of his grins. “You son of a gun, I bet you got yer pitcha snapped again last night, and these boys have recognized ya.”

I looked at him, and forced a grin in return. I could see them over his head. “Yeah, probably. I’ve been plagued by newsies lately, and there was the news conference yesterday.”

“That’s probably it then, Cap.” He went back to eating, and I followed suit.

Ms. Maloney surprised me by pulling her tablet out of the holster, and started consulting it as she ate. It didn’t take her long before she snickered, and turned her tablet so I could see it. The image was only a bit grainy and showed me holding my beer glass up in toast. The caption read, “I’ll have another!” and under it in smaller letters. “Diurnia’s newest fleet owner celebrates!”

The chief leaned over and squinted at it, too, and I heard him snort.

“You see it, too, Chief?”

“Oh, aye, Cap. Time to put a little space behind us, I’m thinking,” he said as he re-addressed his rapidly emptying plate.

Ms. Arellone, trying to watch in five directions at once, asked, “What is it?”

Ms. Maloney answered, “A picture of the captain holding up his beer glass in the restaurant last night.” She held the tablet so Ms. Arellone could see the screen.

Ms. Arellone glanced at it once and said, “Crap.”

The chief grunted his agreement.

Ms. Maloney turned it back to look at it with a slight frown on her face. “It’s not that bad. You’ve gotta expect they’ll grab pictures of public figures, Captain. After yesterday, you’re certainly a public figure.”

I looked over at her with a smile. “I know, Ms. Maitland, but it’s not
my
picture I’m worried about.”

Her frown furrowed for a moment, and she looked back down at her tablet. I could see her studying it for a moment, and then the scene registered with her. “Crap,” she said.

While the photo had framed me nicely, and I was obviously the target, the shooter also managed to get the side of Ms. Maloney’s face in the frame. It wasn’t a good photo, and the graininess obscured much of her identity, but I suspected that anybody who knew her would be able to recognize her well enough.

“Eat up, people.” I mumbled. “Time to get back to the ship.”

As we finished up our meal, the attention from the far end of the counter became more intense. The two workmen even called Phil over, and showed him their copy of the newsie. He looked at it, looked at us, looked at it again, and I could see him reading it, and was about to give it back when he stopped, and did a double take. He said something to the guy at the counter who nodded.

“Be ready,” Ms. Arellone murmured.

Ms. Maloney holstered her tablet, and picked up a coffee cup, sipping from it sparingly and carefully not looking at the developing situation behind the counter.

Phil took the newsie, and leaned into the kitchen. Even over the hubbub I could hear him say, “Hey, Frank.”

From our angle I couldn’t see into the kitchen, but Phil leaned over and thrust the newsie through holding it, presumably, so Frank could see. Phil nodded to something, and then turned his head to look at us. “Yeah. Right over there.” I couldn’t so much hear him as see it on his lips. A head poked out through the pass through, and looked in our direction. I realized then that it was the first time I’d ever seen Frank’s face. He’d always had his back turned, head down working on the grill. In all the stanyers I had been on Diurnia, after all the meals I had eaten there, I realized I had never seen his face.

“Time to go,” Ms. Arellone said and started to rise.

The chief started to move, but I said, “No.” It was command voice, “No,” and both Ms. Arellone and the chief froze as those eyes stared at me.

Frank withdrew his head, and I panted a little for breath. “Stay,” I said, just at the swinging door opened, and Frank stepped out of the back and walked over to the table, his eyes on me. He stood there for a moment, the newsie clasped in his hand, and a tentative smile on his face.

“You’re Captain Wang?” he asked.

“I am.” I could barely speak.

“Ishmael Horatio Wang?”

I nodded.

He took a deep breath. “I’m...” He started to say something, but changed it to, “Frank Wang.”

I smiled. “Franklin Prescott Wang?”

He nodded, and I could see what might be tears forming. “Terrible timing, Captain. Breakfast rush and all.”

“I can see that, sir. Perhaps I can come back later? Or you could visit the ship when you get off?”

He nodded, and I became aware of the pool of silence that surrounded us. The guys behind the counter were looking at each other and shrugging.

“Yes, I’d like that.” He paused and then added, “I have to get back to work.”

“I do, too, sir.”

He turned and started for the door, but stopped before he got there. “How’s your mother?”

I shook my head. “Passed away. Decades gone.”

Something left him then, and he seemed to deflate a little. “This afternoon, I’ll come to your ship? Maybe we can talk?”

“I’d like that, sir.”

“Which one is yours?”

“Maintenance dock three.
Iris
.”

He arched an eyebrow and grinned. With a nod he disappeared back through the door and the spell broke.

“Okay, crew. Soon as I pay this tab, we need to get out of here before some wise guy decides to get snap happy.”

I waved a hand at Phil who got the hint, and brought the tab for me to thumb. The chief led the way out, and in a matter of two ticks we were in the lift heading for the ship.

Nobody said anything, but the curious glances from Ms. Arellone were becoming quite heavy.

Finally, the chief muttered. “I can’t believe you know Frank.”

I chuckled, and they looked at me. “I don’t,” I said.

He glanced at me, “Sure sounded it to me, Cap. Anybody knows your middle name sure seems like knows ya.”

I shook my head. “I used to know him, I think. A long time ago.”

“You think, Skipper?” Ms. Arellone asked.

“I was four the last time I saw him, Ms. Arellone. I don’t remember much about it.”

“Four? As in four stanyers old?”

Ms. Maloney regarded me with an oddly contemplative look. “You haven’t seen your father since you were four?”