Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (64 page)

“Thanks, Ms. Maitland.” I shrugged. “It was nothing compared to the hazing that happens at the academy at Port Newmar. It’s been awhile since I was subject to the imaginative and provocative imprecations of my fellow cadets, but our unpleasant passenger would be considered a clumsy amateur in that company.”

She snickered but sighed. “Well, the nice thing about duty here, Captain? The trips are short, and we’ll never see him aboard again.”

“True, Ms. Maitland, very true. I’d still kinda like to see him walk in from the burleson limit, but that would be spiteful and vindictive.”

“And fatal,” she pointed out. “I suspect the CPJCT frowns on captains who space their passengers.”

I sighed dramatically. “Too true, Ms. Maitland. Too true.”

Chapter Fifty-Seven
Greenfields System:
2373-March-2

By the time we were four days out of Greenfields, even the generally unflappable Ms. Maloney had had enough of Malcolm Dubois. Whatever had occupied him in his compartment on the first few days underway had apparently lost its charm. He spent his days sitting at the table in the galley leering at Ms. Maloney.

After the second full day of it—and after Ms. Maloney had a quiet talk with the Gerards—we placed the galley off-limits except for meals. That had the effect of keeping him in his compartment. Short of shackling him to his bunk, it was the best we could do. I actually considered purchasing some shackles once we docked, but decided the temptation to use them would be too great.

“I’ve not traveled by commercial carrier that much, Ms. Maitland. Is this normal?”

She shook her head. “In all the trips I’ve taken, this guy takes the cake.” She crossed her arms under her breasts and shuddered. “It’s not too unusual to have some Lido Deck Lothario decide to make a play, but big disturbances on a small ship are rare. I’ve never had anybody not take no for an answer, and that’s even without the bodyguard.”

I sighed and shook my head. “I probably shouldn’t have interfered that first time. A pointed lesson from Ms. Arellone might have been embarrassing enough to keep him in his compartment.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Captain. It might also have yielded a lawsuit. He’s just the kind who’d sue the victim for defending herself.”

“Can we protect ourselves from this kind of behavior in the future, do you think?” I asked. “I’m out of my depth here.”

“If it were crew, what would you do, Captain?”

“Keep him too busy to make trouble. An order is an order to crew. There are limits to what I can order a passenger to do.”

She nodded slowly. “But if you have a legitimate issue of safety or security, you can give them orders, sar.”

I pondered that. “Usually, it’s a question of the passenger’s safety, though. Order them to stay off the mess deck, out of engineering. That kind of thing.”

“Yes, Captain, but that’s a pretty sweeping power. It involves the safety of the ship. It’s the basis for making the mess deck off-limits.”

I looked at her. “You seem pretty well conversant in this, Ms. Maitland. Are you holding out on me?”

She smiled and shrugged. “Holding out, Captain? Why, whatever to you mean?”

“You’ve been studying, Ms. Maitland. Can I ask what?”

“Steward, sar. That’s my field. I’m finding it quite fascinating.”

“Yes, Ms. Maitland, but which level?”

“Specialist First Class Chef, Captain.”

I could feel my eyebrows trying to find my hairline. “That’s a big jump. Quarter share to spec-one.”

She shrugged. “Correct me if I’m wrong but Ms. Arellone said that if I can pass the test, I’m qualified for that or any lower position.”

“She’s correct,” I agreed. “Can you do it?”

She shrugged. “I think so, Captain. Except for the maritime law, almost all of it is directly out of my coursework at
L
’Institute des Arts Culinaires
.”

I stared in open admiration. “Ms. Maitland? If you pass it, I’ll pay it.”

She grinned. “Thanks, the extra credits will help.”

The way she said it, it didn’t sound like a joke. “Ms. Maitland? The extra credits will help? Are you being serious?”

“Yes, Captain.” She shrugged. “Jarvis used his power to freeze my assets pending the outcome of my stanyer in space.”

“How can he do that?”

She shrugged. “My personal assets—the galleries, my apartments, my personal income—he can’t, but I’ve been living off the income from my trust fund since I turned twenty-one. The galleries just barely break even, and the cost of my various apartments comes out of my pocket.” She gave me a level look. “Luckily, I don’t have a lot of extra expenses right now, but my disposable credits are spoken for, and I can’t get anymore until my lawyers break Jarvis’s hold on my accounts or the stanyer is up.”

“How could he get that through the board?”

“He has enough friends there. As acting CEO, and without stockholder oversight, he’s got votes to do most anything.”

“The weasel!”

She shrugged. “It’s his way of helping to contribute to my failure. Even if I thought you could be bought, I’ve nothing to buy you with at the moment.” She smiled. “And, this is probably going to sound odd, Captain, but I’m just as glad. When we get to the other side, there’s nobody who’s going to be able to say I didn’t earn it.”

“Oh, you’re earning it, Ms. Maitland. You’re most definitely earning it.”

“Thanks, Captain. That means a lot coming from you.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Maitland.” I couldn’t imagine why it meant a lot, but I wasn’t going to argue with the woman.

She checked the chrono and rose. “Time to get dinner going. Chicken cordon bleu tonight. I know April likes it, and I think Mark needs some extra protein.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“April finds the view very stimulating, Captain. I just hope she doesn’t kill Mark before we get to port.”

“I think Mr. Gerard is a very resourceful man, Ms. Maitland.” I grinned. “I’m sure he’ll rise to the occasion.”

She groaned at the obviousness of the joke and, with a little wave, disappeared down the ladder.

She hadn’t been gone three ticks before I heard her shout from below. “No! Leave me alone!” The sound of a slap echoed clearly up the ladder, and I practically jumped down to the lower deck in response.

Dubois stood there holding Ms. Maloney by the shoulder of her shipsuit, a bright red handprint on the side of his face.

“That’s enough, Dubois. Return to your compartment. You’ll stay there for the rest of the voyage.”

He sneered at me. “Yeah? Is that so, Captain?” He spit the word like a curse. “Or what? You gonna make me?” He deliberately reached over with his free hand and grabbed Ms. Maloney by the left breast, staring straight at me.

Before I could move, her hand flashed, and I heard the crack of a bone as she grabbed his thumb and broke it. He screamed and dropped to his knees on the deck. “You bitch!” he cried, clutching his wrist to hold his hand steady, his thumb flopping awkwardly. “You broke my thumb.”

She grabbed his hair in both fists and drove her knee at his face, stopping a centimeter from his nose. “Be grateful, asshole. I could have done much worse.”

His face curled in a snarl. “You can’t treat me like this. You want until I get to port. I’ll sue you within an inch of your life. You’ll never work in this quadrant again.”

“You, young man, have a lot to learn.” A woman’s voice crackled through his rage, and we turned to see April Gerard clutching a sheet to her chest. “From where I stand—as a disinterested third-party—I saw you assault a crewman engaged in her legitimate duty. When ordered to cease and desist, you not only defied that order, but escalated that assault. The crewman took appropriate action to protect herself, and the ship. She didn’t use excessive force. That’s what I saw.”

He sneered at her, his anger overwhelming even the pain in his hand. “And who cares what you saw, you silly old cow! You’ve been screwing your brains out for the last week, who’s going to take you seriously.”

“That would be Judge Silly Old Cow to you, sir. Might I suggest you keep a civil tongue in your head, and ask the captain nicely if he’ll allow you to use the autodoc facilities aboard to treat your hand?” She glanced at me with a small nod. “Frankly, I believe he would be within his rights to withhold treatment, but I suspect he won’t.”

Dubois stared at her, rendered speechless by her response—or shock, perhaps. I suspected some of each.

She sniffed once, and with a nod to Ms. Maloney, and me, turned and sailed down the passageway, returning to her compartment, and closing the door behind her. I suspected she knew the back of the sheet was open. I admired her confidence.

I turned to Ms. Maloney, who watched me watching Mrs. Gerard’s departure with a wry grin on her face and an arched eyebrow. I shrugged, and together we looked at Dubois who had fallen to his side, clutching his wrist as if the strangle hold would block the pain.

Ms. Maloney and I sighed almost in unison. “Come on, Malcolm,” I said. “You’ve been a very bad boy, but the autodoc will have you fixed up in no time.”

I hooked a hand in his armpit, and helped him to the closet where we kept the medical pod. I helped him onto the pedestal and the diagnostics took over, injecting him, and closing its clamshell around him, locking him in.

The display correctly identified his broken thumb along with some chemical and hormonal imbalances that I didn’t recognize.

“Huh.” I turned and saw Ms. Maloney looking at the readouts over my shoulder.

“You recognize those?” I asked.

She nodded. “I’m no doctor but I suspect he’s severely borderline and off his meds.” She shrugged and added, “Mother was borderline. I’ve seen those before.”

The readouts indicated he’d be in the pod overnight so I went back on watch, and Ms. Maloney went back to the galley to fix dinner.

When Ms. Arellone came up over the ladder to relieve me at 1745 she was shaking her head. “I miss all the good stuff,” she said.

Chapter Fifty-Eight
Greenfields Orbital:
2373-March-6

When we got to Greenfields, we turned Mr. Dubois over to orbital security for further medical examination. He had come out of the autodoc sedated, and with his hand immobilized. I wouldn’t say he was contrite, but at least he was no longer belligerent. We didn’t file formal charges against him for assault, but did file an incident report, and attached his medical readouts to safe-guard our position in the event of future lawsuits.

Life aboard proceeded in spite of all the excitement. The day before docking, I secured almost a hundred cubes of high priority pharmaceuticals for a return run to the Confederation authorities on Diurnia, and posted our passenger availability for a return departure leaving Greenfields on March 9th with an arrival of March 24th. One passenger booked within a stan.

Just before 0900, Ms. Maloney and I saw the Gerards off at the lock.

“Thank you, Captain,” Judge Gerard said, and graced me with a handshake and a kiss on the cheek. “Other than the unfortunate Mr. Dubois, that was one of the most relaxing voyages we’ve taken in decades.” She looked to Mr. Gerard. “Wasn’t it, dear?”

He hugged her to him, one arm around her shoulder. “Very,” he said with a smile for her and another for me. He offered his free hand. “Thank you, Captain.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

He chuckled, but offered no comment. I thought Judge Gerard elbowed him a bit, but it might merely have been her stepping forward to give Ms. Maloney her good bye hug and cheek kiss.

“I’m so pleased to see that you’ve landed on your feet, my dear. Your father would be very proud of you, I think.”

“Thank you, April. And thank you both for coming with us. We’d love to have you back again.”

Judge Gerard grinned and stepped back to put her arm around her husband’s waist. “Next time we need to go to Diurnia, you’ll be the first choice, believe me.” She winked at me. “You should consider setting up a regular run, Captain. We travel to Diurnia three or four times a year, and several of my fellow judges are called back nearly as often.”

“Thank you, Judge Gerard. That’s certainly a possibility.”

“Call me, April, dear,” she said with a wink. “Anybody who’s seen my assets is on a first name basis.”