Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (54 page)

“Not at all, Andy. Ms. Arellone was showing me pictures of the ship showing the ports open.”

She held her tablet so he could see.

“Excellent design, I must say, Captain. I’ve never sailed in a ship like this in all my stanyers criss-crossing the Western Annex.”

Ms. Arellone frowned, and looked at me, and I could feel my eyebrows climbing up my skull.

“I’m glad you like it, Andy. We’re still learning about it, trying to give it a little update.”

“Well, Captain, between those bunks, Christine’s cooking, the view from the cabins, and the speed... Is it true we’re almost at the jump?”

“Yes, we are. About another day and a half, then we’re only six days out of Ten Volt.”

I turned to Ms. Arellone. “We need to relieve the watch, and then I’ll go below and poke about a bit. Smells like Ms. Maloney has something delicious cooking.”

We traded places with some alacrity, and I left her with Dr. Leyman on the bridge and headed for Compartment B. I didn’t want to intrude on Dr. Leyman’s compartment but I figured I should be able to open it in B.

As I entered, my eyes went to the curved bulkhead that marked the curve of the hull. I had looked at it a hundred times, but had never really seen it. Even when painting it, the seams and joints just looked like seams and joints to me. Looking at it with a new perspective, I could see a rectangular shape that might just be the “shutter” but it was huge, delimited only by the fore and aft partitions. If that were a shutter, then when it opened up, the entire bulkhead must shift somehow.

A sense of surrealism washed over me, and left me standing there in a familiar environment that was at once totally foreign. “How the heck...?” I tried to think like a passenger. The designers couldn’t have hidden the shutter controls. That just didn’t make sense, so it must be in plain sight. Even Dr. Leyman seemed to have found it. He couldn’t have had a view from his cabin any other way.

I looked back at the door and inventoried the fixtures around the room—light switch, light switch, console, remote door lock, light switch, bunk, environmental control, light switch. Frowning, I examined the environmental control. I had not looked at it too closely. It governed the air flow temperature independently for each compartment. On close inspection, I found no extra tabs, buttons, or secondary menus on it at all.

I felt like a ninny. It had to be something obvious—something I had already seen and dismissed.

I walked back out to the passage, and started talking aloud. “I’m a passenger. I’ve just come aboard. I don’t know anything about the ship. I walk into my compartment.” I twisted the knob, and walked in, closing the door behind me. “I toss my luggage on the bunk, and look at the only feature in here—the console.” I frowned at the console desk, and turned on the console. The door lock release was right beside it, so I flicked it just to see if the lock would buzz or anything. It didn’t. The switch felt odd, though. It was a rocker switch just like every other electronic door release I’d ever seen, but it didn’t reset automatically under my finger. It clicked. Frowning, I turned and examined the bulkhead again, thinking that I had missed something closer to the shutter.

Instead of the bulkhead, I stared out through a crystal clear port into the Deep Dark.

I reached down and clicked the rocker switch in the other direction. Noiselessly, a panel rose up on the inside of the armorglass and obscured the view. My first thought was, “Why didn’t I have one of these on the
Agamemnon
?”

The sound of dinner mess getting underway broke through my reverie. I ambled back down to the galley, and found everybody gathered. I quickly took my place at the table as Ms. Maloney brought out a roasted chicken with potatoes and a vegetable medley of carrots
julienne
and green beans. She served it with a curried rice side dish that added a most delightful color. I was so enthralled with the meal I almost didn’t see Ms. Arellone looking at me with a “Well? What did you find?” expression.

I grinned and nodded. For the moment, it would stay our secret, although one Dr. Leyman knew without knowing it was a secret. I’m not sure why I played it so close to my vest, except the sheer vanity of not wanting to admit to the passenger that we—the crew—had no idea the ports were there all this time.

After sampling the meal, I raised my cup in toast to the cook. “Delicious as always, Ms. Maloney. As much as I enjoy my own cooking, yours is considerably more satisfying.” She nodded her thanks, and accepted echoed congratulations from around the table.

After the meal, as had become our pattern, we all helped clear the table and stack the dirty dishes in the washer. As Ms. Arellone passed me heading back to the bridge I said, “You might try your door locks when you get a chance. The rocker switch on the console?”

She looked confused, then startled, then excited. “Thanks, Captain.” She refilled a mug to take with her to the bridge, and scurried up the ladder.

I smiled as Dr. Leyman followed in her wake. I thought that if he spent much more time on the bridge, I’d have to pay him as crew. As easy as our bridge watches were, I wondered if I could have passengers stand the watches. I shook the idea off. Dr. Leyman was hardly the normal passenger.

The chief filled his mug, and shuffled aft, heading for engineering. Mr. Herring followed, presumably heading for his bunk since he had the midwatch in a few stans.

“And then there were two,” Ms. Maloney said from the sink.

I grinned at her, and grabbed a side towel. “And then there were two,” I repeated.

She handed me a pot, and I dried it before stashing it under the counter. “So what were you and Stacy talking about, Captain? Door locks?”

“You know the door lock switch on the console in your compartment, Ms. Maloney?”

“Oh, the little rocker switch under the edge of the desk, sar?”

I nodded. “That’s the one. Turns out it’s not a door lock. The compartments don’t have electronic locks.”

She blinked at me, halting her washing as she stared. “What does it open, sar?”

“The shutter. There’s a full length armorglass port in your compartment. Or I assume there is. There was in Compartment B.”

“Really? We can see out?”

I thought for a moment she was going to rush down to look, but she resumed sloshing soapy water in the cooking pans while the dishwasher sluiced and sanitized the dishes and cups.

“Oh, yes. I think there’s one in nearly every compartment.”

“Wait, sar. The little rocker switch?” She looked down at the end of the counter. “Like that one?”

I walked down, and looked where she had indicated but didn’t see one.

“Under the edge of the upper cupboard, sar.”

I looked up under the edge, and saw the telltale switch. I eyed the curved forward bulkhead, trying to trace where the shutter must be in the lines and creases of the bulkhead. I clicked the switch, and a full height panel slipped open, dropping down from the top and rolling into the lower half of the hull, but exposing a gorgeous, clear view forward along the bow of the
Iris
and into the Deep Dark beyond.

I heard Ms. Maloney’s breath catch as the panel pulled back. I didn’t blame her in the least. The view was breathtaking. The somewhat awkward placement of the table made much more sense with the port exposed. I was glad I hadn’t had the chief mount the new console on that bulkhead.

“What do you think, Ms. Maloney?” I turned to look at her. “Your restaurant has a view.”

She stood there, hands in a sink full of soapy water, transfixed by the sight of the star speckled dark.

The lights in the galley were a bit bright to get the full effect so I crossed to the lighting panel and killed the big overheads, leaving the task lighting on the sink, stove top, and counter to provide illumination.

“Captain? Did you know when you bought it?” She nodded at the darkness.

“Ms. Maloney, it pains me to admit that I didn’t know until Ms. Arellone showed me the sales brochure.”

“Is it safe?” she asked, almost as an afterthought.

“The armorglass?” I nodded. “It’s actually stronger than the hull plating, for all that it’s transparent. This technology has been around for a long time, but this is the most extreme application of it I’ve ever seen.” I thought for a moment. “It does explain one thing, though.”

She looked at me with the one eye brow slightly arched.

“I thought I bought a freighter. A ridiculously over powered freighter with a hold ten times too small.”

“You didn’t, sar?”

I shook my head. “I bought a passenger liner, Ms. Maloney.”

“Or a big yacht, Captain.” She had a speculative tone to her voice. “That would explain why my father bought it just after Mother left him. It would make a great corporate yacht.”

I thought about that, and wondered why he hadn’t used it. Maybe he had. It seemed odd that he would made arrangements to sell it if he were using it as a yacht. Ms. Kingsley had said something about it, and I struggled to remember what—something about the vessel not turning a profit. If he had tried to haul freight with it, I think I understood why he wanted to sell it.

“So, Ms. Maloney? If I can ask you to put your civilian hat on for a moment? You’ve traveled a lot on fast packets. What do you think a ticket on the
Iris
would be worth to somebody who travels a lot, and is sick of the tin can feeling?”

“Tens of thousands, Captain,” a man’s voice answered me. Dr. Leyman had come down from the bridge, and stood in the entrance.

“Good evening, Andy. Do you really think that much?”

He nodded matter-of-factly. “Oh, yes. A regular passenger ticket on a liner costs at least a half-dozen kilocreds, depending on the liner, and the distance.”

“He’s right, Captain,” Ms. Maloney added. “A ticket on the
Ellis
is about twelve kilocreds, depending on where.” She shrugged. “Family and company people don’t have to pay that, of course, but that’s the asking fare, and they get it.”

Dr. Leyman said, “You saved me about fifteen thousand by giving me this ride for free, Captain, and I have to say that knowing what I know about this ship now? I’d have gladly paid twice that.”

I think my jaw dropped.

He shrugged. “It’s business, Captain. If you can get me where I need to be a week, or even two weeks, faster than the next ship? And if I can dock rested, even energized, from the voyage instead of ground down by the experience? The time savings alone can make that difference worthwhile. Add the food, the comfort, the view!” He shook his head. “I may never leave.” He grinned. “Okay, no, I’ve got a job to do on Ten Volt, but I’ll be done in a couple of months, if you’re back that way.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, Andy. We’re not there yet, but I appreciate the information. And the vote of confidence.”

He looked at me with a half a smile. “You really didn’t know about these ports, did you?”

I sighed. “No, sir. I didn’t. They sold me a freighter. I thought I had a freighter, and there was nobody around who knew the ship when I bought it.”

“Well, Captain, I’d say you got the best of that bargain.”

“So it would seem, Andy.” I turned to admire the view once more. “So it would seem.”

Chapter Forty-Seven
Ten Volt Orbital:
2373-January-30

We docked at Ten Volt right on schedule. The ship made the long jump without a shudder, and we dropped into the Ten Volt system within one percent of target. There is always a little slop in a jump. Sometimes it is quite a lot, and we try to account for it in our navigational calculations. Our jump to Ten Volt fell right on the money.

Over the course of the voyage, I think Dr. Leyman logged more time on the bridge than I did. In spite of that—or maybe because of it—he left the ship right after breakfast with a huge smile on his face. When Ms. Maloney and I showed him to the lock, he shook my hand warmly and gave Ms. Maloney a hug, which she returned.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said. “I’ll let my colleagues know about your ship. I suspect that when the word gets out, you’re going to be booked solid.”

“Thanks, Andy. I hope so. You know how hard it is to get started on a new venture.”

He smiled. “Indeed I do, Captain. Be thinking what you’d charge for a long term charter. Think something like quarterly, even annually. I suspect there are companies that would pay handsomely to have a vessel like this on retainer.”

“Thanks! I’ll do that.”

He turned to Ms. Maloney once more. “You take care, huh? And don’t be a stranger!”

“You’ve got my contacts, Andy. Drop me a line when you can. I’ll be wandering around the quadrant for the next few months, but by the end of the year, things should stabilize.”

“You’ll have to let me know how this all works out,” he said, looking back and forth between us.

“I will. As soon as the year is up, I’ll buy you dinner and tell you all about it,” Ms. Maloney promised.

He grinned and waved. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said as he headed down the ramp.

We buttoned up after he left, and I turned to Ms. Maloney. “So? How did it work?”

“What’s that, Captain?”

“Being a steward.”

“A division of one, with one passenger to care for, and him an old friend?” She gave a low chuckle. “It was okay, sar.” She looked around the hold, casting her gaze around the ship. “No, it was actually fun.” She paused for a couple of heartbeats. “I have to say, I was really dreading this.” She sighed, and looked back at me. “So far, it’s not turned out anything like I thought it would.”