Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (68 page)

“Well, that’s torn it.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Chapter Sixty-One
Greenfields Orbital:
2373-March-9

By the morning of our departure, three more reporters had paid us a visit. The attention didn’t work entirely against us. We also picked up a few extra cubes of cargo, and two more passengers, largely based on the extra attention the ship got.

Over the course of our stay, I managed to get our engineering spares situation under control, and worked through the rest of the items on the repair list. It was funny how empowered I felt by my new tool box. Having some screwdrivers, a couple of wrenches, and the odd pair of pliers made all the difference when dealing with simple things like replacing light panels and broken switches.

I also took the opportunity to get the scrubber filters on schedule, marking half with an X on the base and leaving the others unmarked. The atmospheric mix aboard was clean so I left myself a calendar note to swap out the X’ed ones just after jump.

Chief Bailey stayed in his compartment, as nearly as I could tell. I saw him only rarely in the galley, or when Ms. Maloney wanted to go ashore.

On top of it all, we were no further ahead in figuring out who had taken the pictures aboard the ship and given—or, more likely, sold—them to the newsies. In spite of that, after two days of puttering about, I felt a lot more confident in the ship. It would be in good shape when the ninety-day note expired.

Mr. Herring made it back aboard without mishap, and we briefed him on dealing with the newsies before allowing him to go ashore again. Without the financial support of new friends, he soon ran out of money, and spent the last day in port helping Ms. Maloney get the compartments ready for guests.

Cargo came aboard at 0900, and the first of our passengers showed up just as the handlers left the lock.

Mr. J. Everett Tharpe waited politely for the last of the handlers to clear the ramp before sliding up with two grav trunks, expertly maneuvering them up the ramp with greater aplomb that I could have managed. A man about my age, tanned and healthy looking, he dressed casually in a brown leather jacket, button down shirt in pale blue, and a pair of jeans. “Captain Wang?” He held out his hand with an easy smile. “Everett Tharpe. I believe you’re expecting me?”

I shook the offered hand and nodded. “Mr. Tharpe. Welcome aboard. I didn’t expect you for another stan or so, but welcome.”

I keyed the big lock closed, and cut off the cold air wafting in from the docks.

“Thank you, Captain. Do you have room for this trunk in cargo? It’s my sample case and I don’t really need it until we get into Diurnia.” He pointed to one of his grav trunks.

“Of course, Mr. Tharpe.” I indicated an open corner of the hold. “If you’d lock it down right there? It’ll be safe enough until we get in.”

I directed him to stand on the lift, and used the hydraulics to raise him up to the first deck. Ms. Maloney waited for him there. She waved down to me as she greeted him, and escorted him back to his compartment.

A blat from the lock klaxon called me back to duty, and I looked out to see a woman who might be thirty, and a girl who looked about fifteen. They had one grav trunk, and looked at the lock expectantly, but they didn’t look like Sam and Muriel Lockhart. With an internal shrug, I opened the lock and stepped out onto the ramp. “Hello. I’m Captain Wang. Can I help you?”

The woman smiled tentatively when she spoke. “I’m Muriel? Muriel Lockhard? You have a reservation for us?”

I looked at the girl. “Sam?”

“Yeah, Sam. Is that a problem?” The girl scowled at me.

Muriel interceded, “My daughter. We’re on our way to Diurnia?”

“Come right in, folks. Ms. Maitland has your compartment ready, I believe.”

I led them into the ship, and sealed the lock behind them. We maneuvered their grav trunk up the ladder without difficulty. Looking down the passage, I saw Ms. Maloney had just finished settling Mr. Tharpe, and I stepped aside for her to see our newest passengers.

“Ms. Maitland is our steward. She’ll help you get settled.” I explained to the pair. “Ms. Maitland, this is Muriel Lockhart and her daughter, Sam.”

Ms. Maitland smiled charmingly and shook hands with each of them. “Welcome aboard, ladies. If you’d follow me, we have a choice for you to make...” She led them smoothly away, and soon had them settled in the over-and-under bunks. Judging from the pleased noises coming from that end of the passageway, both mother and daughter found the accommodations quite satisfactory.

I was about to head into the cabin when the klaxon sounded again. Ms. Arellone stood in the galley door and asked, “Are you expecting anybody else, Captain?”

I shook my head. “No, Ms. Arellone.”

“Okay, Skipper. I’ll get it.”

“Thank you, Ms. Arellone.”

“No problem, Skipper.” She trotted down the ladder, and I went into my cabin.

I had just settled at the console when she was back at the door. “Skipper? You’re going to want to come out here.” Something in her face caught my attention immediately.

I stepped out, and found an impeccably dressed woman in her middle fifties standing at the top of the ladder, grav trunk in tow, and one hand pressed dramatically to the top of an impressive bosom as she worked to catch her breath .“Captain? You’re Captain Wang?”

“I am, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“Passage? Do you have room for one more, Captain? Please say you do!” Her words came out in a rush, each one tumbling on the heels of the last, and I understood why she might be breathless. Just listening was exhausting.

“We’re bound for Diurnia, ma’am, and there’s one berth left—”

“I’ll take it!” She reached out and placed her hand on my forearm. “Please, Captain. I must have it.”

“Okay, sure, Ms...”

“Barbara Hawkshaw, Captain. Thank you so much. You have no idea what a life saver you are.”

I walked her through the paperwork, and booked her fare, by which time Ms. Maloney had returned. “Last guest, Ms. Maitland,” I said.

She smiled and welcomed Ms. Hawkshaw aboard, leading her down the passage to the one remaining compartment.

Ms. Arellone watched the process with a slightly amused smile on her face. “What do you suppose is so important, sar?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

I shrugged. “Hard telling, Ms. Arellone. Whatever it is, it’s important to her.” I nodded in the direction of the lock. “Would you hang out the Do Not Disturb sign? I’ll file our intent to depart with traffic control.”

With her usual efficiency, Ms. Maloney put lunch on the table at noon in spite of the unexpected guest. One of the advantages of soup and salad is its flexibility, and our new guests appeared to find the meal to their liking. After making introductions around the table, the brief period of awkwardness melted away as Ms. Maloney drew each passenger out. Even the reticent younger Ms. Lockhart found a kindred spirit in Ms. Arellone when they learned they shared a passion for a musical group with the unlikely name of “Entropy Gradient Inversion.”

As the meal drew to a close I went around the table in my normal pre-departure call out.

“Chief Bailey? Are the tanks topped and spares lockers stocked?”

He spared me a curious look, but nodded. “Oh, aye, Cap. Fuel and water aboard, see if they’re not.”

“Auxiliaries warmed and sails ready?”

“Kickers are hot, Cap, you know they are. Sails on safety standby but they’ll go up when you’re ready, see if they don’t.”

“Ms. Maitland? Are we fixed for stores with sufficient supplies for our journey?”

“We are, Captain. Freezers are stocked and larders are full.”

“I’ve finished the astrogation updates, and our flight plan is on file along with manifests and clearances.” I smiled around the table at crew and passengers alike. “If nobody has any objections, I’d rather like to see someplace else.” The crew chuckled, and even the elder Ms. Lockhart seemed to be enjoying the floor show. “I’ll call for navigation stations at 1500. Crew will report to duty stations, and I ask our guests to relax in their bunks until I set normal watch. It only takes about a half a stan or so to clear the local space. If you need to move about, please do so, but try to stay seated, or on your bunks, as much as possible to avoid being tossed about.”

Muriel Lockhart looked concerned. “Should we strap in, Captain?”

I smiled in a way that I hoped was re-assuring. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Ms. Lockhart.”

Ms. Hawkshaw mumbled something that sounded like a wistful, “Oh, too bad,” then looked around the table in wide-eyed innocence.

Ms. Arellone did a very credible job of stifling the chuckle.

“Any other questions?” I looked around from face to face, and got a series of small headshakes. “Then let’s clear away the mess and get ready for space!”

I stood and bussed my dirties, stacking dishes and glassware in the dishwasher. It pleased me to see everybody—crew and passenger alike—follow suit. The crew didn’t surprise me. We had sailed enough that they were pretty well used to it, but the passengers pitched in with good humor, and soon Ms. Maloney was left only with a few serving dishes and an amused expression.

“Something funny, Ms. Maitland?” I asked.

“Should be an interesting trip, Captain.” She turned her head casually glancing to where Ms. Hawkshaw flirted shamelessly with Mr. Herring.

“Indeed, Ms. Maitland. Do you suppose I should go to Mr. Herring’s assistance?”

She snorted and looked back at me. “Only if you want her chasing you, sar,” she said. “Unlike our last little difficulty, it doesn’t appear that the attention is at all unwelcome.”

I looked again and realized that our junior deckie flirted back. I sighed. “Interesting is probably an understatement, Ms. Maitland.”

She chuckled a bit evilly, as she went to work on the cooking pots.

I just shook my head, and took a fresh cup of coffee up to the bridge to double-check my numbers.

Chapter Sixty-Two
Greenfields System:
2373-March-12

Our voyage back to Diurnia got underway smoothly enough. Ms. Maloney organized a movie rotation for the evenings with a feature film each night. Most of the passengers attended. Ms. Arellone and the younger Ms. Lockhart got their headphones together over their personal music collections, and Ms. Hawkshaw pleased me immensely by corralling the earnest young Mr. Herring by the second night out of Greenfields. He appeared to enjoy her attention.

My only real problem involved trying to find which of my faithful crew was selling gossip to the newsies.

Ms. Maloney and I discussed it, but making sure they didn’t compare notes about the different stories was a knotty problem. I developed the horrible image of convincing each of them of something different, only to have them get their heads together so all three stories appeared in the press.

As I prepared to relieve Mr. Herring for the evening watch, I couldn’t help but wonder what the real harm was. Even the horrible publicity over the Dubois incident seemed to have worked in our favor. While it felt a bit dodgy to have a member of my crew telling stories out of school, once I got over the sense of betrayal, I couldn’t really think of a downside. The press already knew Ms. Maloney’s secret, and the resulting gossip generated more business for us.

I climbed the ladder to the bridge at 1740 to give myself a few minutes with Mr. Herring before I relieved the watch. He gave me a look that I couldn’t quite interpret—something between relief and dread.

“Mr. Herring? Everything okay up here?”

“Yes, sar. On course and on time, sar.” He scanned his board once more to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

I slipped into one of the extra seats in front of the console. “How’s the voyage so far, Mr. Herring?”

“What do you mean, sar?” There was a note of caution in his voice.

“Ms. Hawkshaw seems to be keeping you busy, Mr. Herring. Are you okay?”

He looked a bit embarrassed and a little guilty. A flush of color crept up his ears. “She’s...” He thought hard for a long time before adding, “lonely, sar.”

“And are you okay being her companion for this voyage?” I tried to look him in the eyes, but he wouldn’t look at me. “She seemed rather persistent. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, you know.”