Ships of My Fathers (24 page)

Gabrielle pushed the eggs around her plate. The blue Captains’ Guild logo repeated itself around the edgework of the china. Across from her, Hans scanned over a few documents next to his plate.

“I guess neither of us is particularly good company this morning,” he said.

She sighed. “I guess not.”

Hans set the papers down. “Am I keeping you from something?”

“No, I don’t have any friends in port this trip, so I’m playing the tourist.”

“You could volunteer for a few dock watches, you know. Maybe let Miss Schwartz or Mr. Brookstone have some extra time off.”

She grinned. “No, not Walter. He’s in trouble with the XO.”

“Again? What for?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Hans grumbled. “I suppose not, but I swear if that young man doesn’t clean up his act, Felicia is going to bounce his ass out the airlock.”

At least that got a smile out of her.

Hans glanced back at his papers. “So why aren’t you out with another crewmate? I hear Harry’s a riot at port.”

“She’s almost twice my age, Dad.”

Hans shook his head. “Nothing wrong with that in my book, but by the fact that you’re even awake at this hour tells me you haven’t been out carousing with Mr. Norris.”

“Dad, I am not sleeping with Jake. I don’t do that with crew.”

“I didn’t say you were, but the rumor is that you two have a wingman routine that rarely leaves either of you in your own beds.”

“Dad!”

He held up his hands. “Not judging, though if your mother found out about it...”

“She’s not going to. She’s too busy pestering Alicia. Besides, Jake’s parents are in port, so he’s off being the good son.”

“Then what about Michael?”

Gabrielle crossed her arms. “Do you not enjoy our breakfasts anymore?”

Hans started to answer, paused, and let out a deep sigh. “Of course I do, but they’re not as nice when you’re so sour. Is something wrong? Do I need to be dear old Dad instead of Captain Schneider?”

“No, Dad, it’s nothing.”

“Then if you’re playing tourist, why aren’t you doing it with Michael? He’s still new to the crew. He could use some company.”

She started poking at her eggs again. “Michael and I had something of an argument.”

“Oh?”

She looked up at him, and could see that she was not going to get away with only that. “It was about Malcolm Fletcher.”

“And?”

She shook her head but plunged in anyway. “I’ve been asking some questions at the last few ports. I wanted to find out the truth about him.”

“And you didn’t believe me?”

“I wanted you to be wrong... you know, just to be wrong for once in your life.”

Hans slumped a bit. “I’m sorry, Gaby. From the look on your face I’m guessing I wasn’t.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t look like it. And when I told Michael, he got all upset and—”

“You told him?”

She shrugged. “I guess. It started off innocent enough, but then he got all defensive, and one thing led to another. I said something awful, and... we haven’t talked much since.”

Hans sat silently for a moment. “Gabrielle, it’s easy for me to lose my temper over this because Peter was my little brother, the kid I was supposed to be looking out for, and the loss of him... well, I’m never going to be over it. Never. But Peter was just a distant uncle to you, and now Michael is here, and he needs family. He needs you.”

“But Dad, if Malcolm was—”

“As reckless and evil as I think he was?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how bad Malcolm was. It doesn’t even matter how much Michael defends him. Malcolm Fletcher’s crimes aren’t Michael’s. You can’t...” He trailed off with a sigh. “We can’t keep blaming Michael for something he didn’t do.”

Gabrielle nodded, lifted her fork one more time, but ultimately pushed her plate away. “Okay, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

“With time,” Hans replied. “We’ll have a long layover at Callista Prime in a few months. We can go down to the old family homestead, maybe get some of Peter’s things out of storage, and let Michael take in what he can.”

“Do you think that will really work?”

He shrugged. “It’s the best we can do.”

Fini came out of her room, dressed and ready to go. Anders was still in his bathrobe, leering at Vera, but she kept her distance at the other end of the sofa. “You both did very well,” Anders told them.

“It was easy enough,” she said. “How about you, Vera?”

“I just want to get paid,” Vera replied.

Anders pulled a money clip from the pocket of his robe and started peeling off crisp hundred notes. “Seven hundred a piece,” he said, counting it out. “And that’s on top of the three hundred I gave you yesterday.”

Vera reached forward and grabbed at her pile without a word. Fini took hers and counted it out slowly. “So, Captain Anders, why the ruse? I mean, you knew his dad, right?”

“I had my reasons, and you’ve got your money.”

She nodded and tucked the bills into her shirt. It was never comfortable to do that, but she always liked the look she saw on the johns when she did it. “And I do thank you for it, but I’m curious about why it was so important the he find you rather than you finding him. It seems simple enough. ‘Hi, I knew your dad.’ Why not?”

Anders took a step towards her. She had forgotten how tall he was. “You know, you ask a lot of questions for someone who wouldn’t be missed.”

Vera was already at the door. “Drop it, Fini. Let’s go.”

“Listen to your friend, little girl. You don’t want to remember me any more than you want me to remember you. Understood?”

She backed away towards the door. “I’m sorry. I don’t need to know anything, just um… thanks for the cash.”

She followed Vera out the door and made sure it closed behind her before she ran.

Michael lay on his back with Karen’s body pressed up against him, sweaty skin to sweaty skin. It was an act of both intimacy and necessity. In his narrow bed on the
Heinrich
, there was room for little else. They still did not have much time together in their second shift window, but at least they had been making good use of it, four times since they left Folsom.

She traced patterns on his chest with her fingernail. It was a delicious balance between tickling and hurting. “I want to do something nice when we get to Latera,” she said.

“It’s ok,” he replied. “You don’t have to make special plans for me.”

“No, I really want to this time. It’s a long layover, and we can get permission to go groundside. There’s a string of resort islands near the equator, a couple hours flight from the main spaceport. We could get a little bungalow, sit out on the beach... go diving even.”

“Sounds fun,” he said, “but I hate to see you go to all that trouble.”

She shifted to look up at him. “I want to make a memory with you, Michael, because it’s going to be the last time for a while.”

“Last time?” he asked. He shifted to look back at her, but as soon as their eyes met, she looked away.

“I’m transferring,” she said. “There’s an opening on the
Sailing Siegfried
, and I’m taking it.”

“Wait, transfer?” He found himself backing away, which did not amount to much in their confined space, but she retreated as well.

“It’s for a department lead. It’s a smaller ship, but it’s a promotion. I’ve got the rating, so it’s the right step for me.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged, but he could still see some guilt in her face. “I didn’t know until now. I applied for it before you even came on board. Charlie’s a great department lead and everything, but I was going out of my mind sitting that third shift by myself. I did the paperwork as soon as I qualified for the rating, but I didn’t hear back about anything until we reached Folsom station.”

“And now?”

“It’s too good to pass up,” she said. “It may not mean as much to you with your family connections, but this is an officer position. I can start making some real money there, a higher cap on ship shares, the whole deal. Here I’m always going to be third shift watch.”

“And me? Us?”

She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he rolled back in reaction. “Michael, look this isn’t about you. This is about my career. You’ve been on ships your whole life, so you should know that. Crew come and go. Let’s enjoy the time we have left and hope to cross paths again.”

He fought against the truth, but deep down he knew she was right. He had lost count of how many crew had come and gone from Malcolm’s ships over the years. There had been Geoffrey who had taught him to move in zero gravity, Susan of the long black hair who had been his first crush, Nel who had let him sit on her lap for his first engineering watch, and countless others. “I guess I wasn’t expecting it here,” he admitted.

She reached tentatively for him again, and he met her hand with his. “I’m sorry, Michael, it’s what I have to do.”

“And Latera?”

“I have a layover of three weeks before the
Siegfried
arrives. You’ll have six days before the
Heinrich
pulls out. I’m sure there will be some kind of farewell party when we reach port, but if we leave that night, we can still have four or five days before you have to return for duty.”

He sighed and pulled her closer. “Okay, so let’s make good use of our time. You still have an hour before you have to get ready for your shift.”

She let a grin crawl across her face. “If only I had your energy, Michael, third shift wouldn’t seem so long.”

“My Lady?” Bishop asked as he entered the office.

Elsa Watkins sat behind the desk. “Have a seat.” Ideally, she would have had this conversation back aboard the
Blue Jaguar
, but this office on Latera station was about as secure as she could make it.

She poured two small glasses of wine. “You’re to be commended, Mr. Bishop.”

Bishop eyed the glass but did not reach for it. “And why is that?”

She shook her head and smiled. “You were right about that cargo,” she said, taking a sip for herself.

He reached out and took the glass, sniffing at it but not yet drinking. “The valuable cargo?”

“Yes. We’ve been instructed to divert to Arvin to pick it up.”

Bishop took a sip, swirled the glass around, and then set it back on the desk. “I appreciate the sentiment, Captain, but I believe I will refrain from any celebrations until we have delivered the cargo.”

She sighed and set her own glass back on the desk. “Fair enough, Mr. Bishop.” She knew she had been premature. She simply felt like enjoying the good news, and Bishop was the only person she could enjoy it with. But Bishop was right, and that was one more reason she was going to recommend him to Father Chessman.

“Will we be stepping up our departure?”

She shook her head. “The pickup window doesn’t even open until the seventeenth, and I’m inclined to hang out here for another few days if feasible.”

Bishop cocked an eyebrow. “Anders and the boy?”

“You’re very sharp, Mr. Bishop.”

He shrugged. “The shipping networks reported Anders’ ship at Ballison six weeks ago, at Arvin three weeks ago, and at Folsom nine days ago. If he is tracking the boy, Latera is a very logical next stop.”