Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga) (10 page)

"Will do, thanks, Bosun." Steve sheathed it, then took the disk from his pocket and handed it to him. "Is this jade too?"

"Looks like what they call 'black jade'." The older man examined the disk closely, then handed it back. "This might be very useful if you find yourself in a tight spot, so keep it safe. The Dragon Tong, above all others, has built a reputation for keeping its word and valuing its relationships. They take that very seriously. Respect them, and they'll respect you; disrespect them, and they'll come down on you as hard and as lethally as a ton of bricks. That disk is a public declaration of their respect. Value it accordingly."

"I will." Steve turned to unzip his carryall and stow the knife and disk inside.

"We may stop over at Vesta sometime. If we do, I'll take you to visit that jade dealer; and if we don't, there are dealers on other planets. Sooner or later we'll find someone who can tell you more about the disk and the knife."

"I'd appreciate that, thanks, Bosun." He closed the carryall. "Hey! I just noticed - that S.O.B. cut my new uniform!"

"I wouldn't complain too loudly if I were you. You got off a lot more lightly than he did - and he's going to be terminally worse off by the time the Dragon Tong gets through with him! Anyway, the ship's autotailor will fix it so you won't be able to tell where it was. Now, let's get moving. The personnel taxi shuttles are five clicks away, so we'll have to take the high-speed conveyor to reach them; then it's half an hour's flight to reach
Cabot
. No time to waste!"

"I can't wait to see what the ship looks like," Steve confessed as they started down the passageway again. "It's old hat to you, of course, but I've only seen spaceships in tri-dee pictures and holovids."

"You won't see her from the outside - at least, not today," Tomkins pointed out. "The taxi shuttles are working spacecraft, not tourist buses with lots of windows. Only the pilot's station has a viewport, and you won't be near enough to the console to use it. It'll probably be screened off, anyway, as there won't be a pilot aboard. The shuttles are all remotely directed by Orbital Control."

"Tell you what, Tomkins," the Bosun interjected. "Take Maxwell with you tomorrow night when you pick up Cutter Two from the service facility. He can use the second pilot's seat beside you on the ride back to the ship. That'll give him a good view of the Cargo Terminal, and of the ship as you come in to dock."

"Will do, Bosun."

Chapter 6: January 25th, 2837 GSC, midday

Steve sat stiff with excitement as the taxi shuttle approached
Cabot
's docking bay. He felt the docking bay's arms connect to the small craft's locks with a muffled
clang!
His weight seemed to shift oddly as the vehicle's internal gravity field shut off, to be replaced by the ship's field as it was automatically extended through the docking arms. A speaker intoned metallically, "Passengers for LMV
Sebastian Cabot
are requested to disembark through the airlock."

Steve pressed the button on his chest that released his harness, stood, and followed the Bosun and Tomkins into the airlock. They waited a few seconds as the taxi-side door closed and the system verified that pressures had been equalized; then the ship-side door opened, giving them entry into a large compartment. Its metal walls were painted white, and its floor was covered in hard-wearing black plasrubber. Cargo-handling equipment next to the airlock was already humming as it prepared to receive baggage from the taxi. The airlock was one of four extending along the bulkhead through which they'd entered. Steve had learned while on the way to the ship that a second, larger docking bay below this one accommodated two huge cargo shuttles.

A bored-looking spacer wearing a gray utility coverall was seated behind a counter. She looked up from her console's holographic display as they entered, tapping a control to mute the volume of the program she was watching. "Hi, Bosun, hi, Tomkins. Who's this?"

"We've got ourselves an apprentice," Tomkins informed her with a grin. "Maxwell, this is Spacer First Class Dew Beeslie. She's in our compartment. Dew, this is Steve Maxwell."

"An apprentice?" The woman came to her feet and walked towards them. She was tall, rangy and bony, unquestionably the toughest-looking woman Steve had ever met, and wore three stars arranged in a triangle on the sleeve of her utility coveralls - clearly an insignia denoting her rank. Her voice was gritty, harsh, showing the effects of many years of hard work and even harder play. "Thought the Skipper didn't want any of 'em on board?"

"He changed his mind," the Bosun informed her. "Maxwell's had most of the theoretical training he'll need. Tomkins will be in charge of his practical training, and I'll expect you and the others to help all you can. We want to get him up to speed as quickly as possible."

"Sure." She extended her hand. Her grip was strong, hard, calloused. "Welcome aboard, Steve. You couldn't have picked a better ship for your first berth."

"Thanks."

While they were speaking, the cargo-handling systems fed their bags and trunks through the loading hatch. The Bosun picked up his overnight bag and told them, "I'll leave you to it. I want to see the Captain, then make sure we've got all the training material we need in the ship's library. I'll order anything we lack from the Terminal." He glanced at Steve. "I've also ordered impact-absorbing tiles and mats to convert an unused compartment into a makeshift
dojo
for us. The Captain's OK'ed it. They'll come aboard tomorrow, and you can install them."

"Thanks, Bosun."

Cardle left the boat bay, walking quickly. Tomkins frowned. "What did he call that - a 'doh'-something?"

"A
dojo
. It's a Japanese word meaning a place where martial arts students train. Think of it as a cross between a classroom and a gymnasium."

"If you say so."

He helped Steve rebuild his baggage tower, then they followed the Bosun out of the boat bay. Beyond it was a brightly-lit broad passageway leading forward. Tomkins didn't take it, but led him to an elevator beside the stairwell. "Your trunks won't do well on the stairs," he pointed out with a grin. "We'll take the high-speed conveyor, one level up."

The conveyor stretched the length of the ship, right side running to the bows and the left side to the stern. Waist-high railings flanked each side and formed a central divider. Steve could see the figure of the Bosun some distance ahead of them, walking quickly along the beltway. He eased his trunks onto the conveyor with Tomkins' help.

As they moved forward, Tomkins gestured to the deckhead above them. "That's the base of the spine of the ship. Let's see how well you learned your theory. See that bank of pipes running fore and aft? What do their colors and identifying symbols signify?"

Steve took a deep breath. "OK, from left to right, that's cold water, hot water, purified oxygen, nitrogen, ship's atmosphere, reaction mass... that next one isn't a pipe, it's an electrical conduit. I don't know the three pipes next to it, I'm afraid."

"That's not surprising - those colors and markings are used in the Lancastrian Commonwealth, but not here. They indicate hydrocarbon fuel pipes of different kinds."

"I see. Why do you use hydrocarbons aboard ship?"

"We don't, except for lubrication. Those pipes supply fuels and lubes to any cargo that might need them before offloading. You'll learn more about that during your training. You did pretty well. If the rest of your theory training was as thorough, you'll pick up the rest of what you need in no time."

"Thanks. How big is the ship?"

"She's five hundred meters bow to stern, with a beam of eighty meters. Her hull's roughly square in cross-section, with a bit of a bulge on top for the spine. You'll see her from the outside tomorrow, when we pick up our Number Two cutter. I dropped it off when we arrived to have a reaction thruster replaced."

"I'll look forward to that. It was frustrating just now, being in space but unable to see the planet, let alone other ships!"

Tomkins laughed. "Most spacers actually prefer it that way. A lot of 'em never look outside for months on end, except maybe to glance at a holographic display now and again. They prefer to live like hermits in a monastery on board ship, then go planetside for a long spell to get used to fresh air and weather again. You'll be surprised how you begin to long for weather after months in space, where you don't get weather at all!"

"I won't be surprised at all," Steve admitted. "Lately on the Terminal I'd found myself longing for a good old-fashioned storm, complete with thunder and lightning!"

"Been there, done that. Most spacers spend two or three years in space, taking a few days planetside every six months or so; then they'll go planetside for a year or two, to recharge their batteries and spend time with their families before the next shipboard stint. It's the only way to stay sane. If you stay aboard ship too long, sooner or later you'll go space-happy. The Fleet usually alternates two-year assignments for that reason, one spaceborne, the next planetside." He nodded to a gap in the protective railings ahead. "We get off here. I'll help with your dunnage."

Another elevator brought them below the conveyor to the brightly-lit corridor they'd seen before. Tomkins led the way diagonally across the passage to a sliding door. It opened onto a large compartment, painted in an off-white shade. Bulkhead-mounted diodes provided a pleasantly muted light. Armchairs and a sofa were secured to the floor, with a large holovid display against the wall next to the entrance door. Four numbered doors led off the compartment on each of the left and right sides, with another two in the end wall.

"The ship has six berthing compartments, although we normally use only five of them," Tomkins explained. "Each has eight individual cabins surrounding a common area. Officially this is Berthing Compartment C, but unofficially it's better known as Chaos Central. I'm in Cabin 1. Number 5 is vacant," and he nodded to the furthest door on the right side of the compartment. "That'll be yours. I'll help you stow your gear properly, then we'll secure your trunks in the storage cubby," indicating one of the two doors in the end wall. "That other door's the fresher for this compartment. We all share it."

Cabin 5 proved to be a small but well-equipped room, just over three meters long by two wide. A compact desk was bolted to the bulkhead just inside the fireproof sliding door, with a computer terminal, a chair, and drawers at one side. Above it were a couple of shelves at the rear and storage compartments to left and right. Above them in turn a narrow bunk was mounted at head height, with drawers beneath it to store small items. A flexible, retractable net covered the bunk's memory foam mattress, to secure its occupant if the ship were to disengage its artificial gravity field or engage in unexpected violent maneuvers. An access ladder was mounted on the side of a hanging closet which stood at the foot of the bunk. A small wash-basin at the rear of the cabin flanked a single armchair. More storage compartments lined the bulkheads above them, and a cargo net hung from the deckhead to hold light, bulky items. A tall cupboard near the door was labeled 'EMERGENCY' in red lettering. The bulkheads and deckhead were powder-coated in a soothing light blue, with variable-strength lighting from diodes on each side of the cabin.

"Looks nice," Steve acknowledged. "Every available scrap of space has been used for something or other. I hadn't expected to have my own cabin. All the holovids I've watched about spaceship crews showed shared accommodation."

"Yeah, but that's 'cause they have to show people interacting - that's entertainment, right? Believe me, after several months living on top of each other in an artificial environment like this, we're all more than glad to be able to keep to ourselves sometimes! Most merchant ships have crew quarters like this, for sanity's sake. Even warships, with much larger crews under military discipline, try not to put more people in a single compartment than they can help. Come on, let's unpack your gear."

They disassembled the baggage tower, leaving most of it outside the cabin to give them room to work. Tomkins showed him how to stow his spacesuit, helmet and tools in the emergency cupboard. "This is used only for the gear you'll need if there's an alarm -
nothing else
," he warned. "Always lay out everything in this pattern. That way you'll know where to find it, by touch if the lights go out. If the proverbial brown substance hits the rotary air impeller, and you can't get back here to pick up your gear, the bridge will remotely unlock all the cabins. We all store our emergency gear in the same cupboard in our cabins, and arrange it like this. That way, any crew member can find it and bring it to us, or we can do the same for them."

"I get it."

They'd almost finished unpacking when Tomkins brought up another matter. "You signed the ship's articles a couple of days ago, right?"

"Yeah, when I was at the League office with the Bosun."

"OK, then you'll remember they absolutely prohibit fighting on board. After seeing you in action this morning I wanted to re-emphasize that, because we take that rule very seriously. I'm not saying you're a troublemaker, you understand, but I know you'll defend yourself if you have to. You've got to keep that reaction under control. You'll find yourself the butt of pranks for a while - you know, someone will send you to Engineering to get a left-handed screwdriver, that sort of thing. All newbies have to go through it. It may get irritating sometimes - spacer humor's like that - but it's an absolute no-no to endanger life or property. You don't do it to others, they don't do it to you. No exceptions. If you ever see or experience anything that looks too risky, report it to the nearest Bosun's Mate at once."