The Bright Black Sea (103 page)

'You're thinking he'll be getting restless. I gather,
he's tried settling down before, and always turns up a few months
later.'

'That has been the case to date. But I don't think
he's ever found anyone like you and he'd be a fool to leave you. I
believe things will work out. If he's really ready to settle down,
you're always welcome to come up for a visit when we're in orbit. I
promise I won't shanghai either of you. But if he's not quite ready
yet, well, I've known Haz for twenty years now and think you've got
a good man in Haz. So if you're willing to follow him should the
old fool get restless, I just want you to know you'd be welcome
aboard, even if its just for a voyage or two now and . We can
always find jobs for an engineer, and well, we're pretty much a
family affair – a big planet trader – so you could sign on just for
a voyage now and again. We'll be swinging around to Constina twice
a year now.'

'Thank you, Captain. Fair enough. I'll keep that in
mind.'

04

We departed three days later for our first circuit
collecting boxes on the planets of Blynesta, Barvene, and Baidora
before heading out, this time down the Myzar drift in the direction
of Zilantre to the drift stations of Kinter's Rock and Shindow, the
drift world of Yentri and on to old Plyra before returning to
Constina. A six moth run.

I didn't press Grandmama on just where the boxes we
carried were ultimately bound for, but I'd little doubt that most
were bound for one St Bleyth chapter house or another. With their
home world a closely guarded secret, their outside installations
are likely supplied from the Unity, goods purchased with their ill
gotten gains. I've become enough of a drifteer not to let that
bother me. Nevertheless, I still have very little regard for St
Bleyth in general and none for the way they make their outside
living. I make an exception for Grandmama, blood being thicker than
water, but the less I have to do with the Order, the better – says
the captain of the ship that has become a small, but integral part
in their supply chain.

I was not entirely dependent on the Order, since I
was able to add half as many more boxes from the various planets
and stations I called on. Boxes that had either missed their
connections, or were from small importer/exporter operations. I
hadn't quite sold my soul to St Bleyth,.

I signed Myes back aboard with Nadde as our
apprentice environmental engineer upon our arrival back in
Constina. For a voyage or two anyway, just to give Nadde a sample
of the spaceer life, they claimed. Maybe longer if she took to it.
I'd already assured Sar Nil that he was a permanent member of the
crew irregardless of what Myes did, assuming he wanted to stay on –
which he did – so the tentative nature of Myes and Nadde's
commitment didn't bother me. It doesn't hurt to have a few more
people than regulations require, especially when they fit in so
comfortably. (Our share of the
Azurete
salvage was waiting
for us on arrival, so I'll not have to economize on crew and wages
for several hundred years.)

'It's actually Nadde's idea,' explained Myes. 'I was
enjoying working downside on Constina. Nadde said she could land me
a berth with Re'Tze, but I'm too canny for that. I've done enough
heavy work in a space suit to know that wasn't for me. I landed a
berth repairing taxi fliers. A word of advice, Skipper – take the
tube if you value your life. At least on Constina.

'Anyway, I'd get to yarning about my life in space,
and she got to thinking it was all so exciting and romantic. I told
her she could sample it for herself, if she had a mind too. I was
happy putting fliers back together again, but she said we had a
berth aboard the old
Starry Shore
. And well, here we
are.'

'And it's good to have you back. I'm sure Nadde will
fit in. I expect to have the Jardinn run for years, so you can sail
with us or take time off whenever you want. You've the credits
now.'

Now, if I had an owner going over my books after
every voyage, I couldn't have been that free and easy. But well, I
didn't. And I don't expect to have an owner looking over my
shoulder for many years. If ever. Min was not likely to give up her
quest before it reached its end. Tenry and Vynnia's Patrol
commission was an open ended one as well, so I felt like I could
operate pretty much as master and owner of the
Starry Shore
.
And with the payment of the
Azurete
salvage claim, I'd
produced half a lifetime's profit for my absent owner already. And
with a steady income from Grandmama's business, I needn't pinch
credits. So in addition to signing on Myes and Nadde, I distributed
1/12th of the
ship
's share of the
Azurete
salvage equally among the crew members involved in
the salvage. Distributing a share of the salvage fee was not a
Guild requirement, but was often awarded by your more generous
owners and a 1/12th share was not uncommon. However, given the
amount of the salvage, I suspect most owners would have distributed
less than 1/12th. Still, I didn't think Min would scrimp, and I
knew they'd earned it many times over, and not just with the
Azurete
salvage either, so it seemed the right thing to do.
Of course, I was also giving myself a share of that 1/12th as well,
so my motives were not free of self interest. But , I'd earned it
too. 1/1728th of a treasure ship was enough credits to have Molaye
and I pretty optimistic about owning a Crimson Comet z33 – one that
was in one piece, as well. Each. Botts objected to its share,
saying it'd no need of credits, but I insisted.

'Stash the CreditTokens in one of your access ports.
You never know when you'll find yourself on some world with the
natives close on your trail with pitchforks and sledgehammers. A
few credits might well buy you a passage to safety,' I replied.

'I rather think that's a remote possibility,' it
replied.

'We've both survived enough remote possibilities,
Botts, to know remote possibilities are not necessarily all that
remote in the Neb. Take the credits,' I replied. 'That's an
order.'

'Aye, Captain.'

If Botts was what it claimed to be, they'd likely do
it no good. But I was far from convinced that Botts wasn't just
being coy claiming to be a mere class 8 machine. If Botts was
indeed a sentient machine, it could use the credits should it ever
find itself adrift some day, hopefully, in the far future.

05

Our second circuit took us around the Amdia system
once again collecting boxes and up the Myzar drift to the familiar
ports of Carivon, Hendin and Shantien, Coris and Ravin before
heading back to Constina. It was, as promised, every bit as
lucrative and uneventful as the
Lost Star
's Azminn circuits.
The only difference was that we'd fewer ports of call and longer
runs between them. The uneventful nature of our work lasted until
our second visit to Ravin. We'd not stirred up any ghosts on our
first visit, but weren't so lucky on our second.

01

Ravin is a company planet like Zilantre, but younger
and rougher around the edges, which is to say, as soon as you left
the spaceport proper. It seemed to be always raining in Ravinport,
its prime city and space port. When I asked why, I was told that it
was merely the rainy season, which, it seems, is about eight months
long out of a nine month year. Which, at least, keeps intact my
observation that, for some inexplicable reason, world founders
always build their prime city in the most unpleasant region of
their world.

I'd been down paying a brief visit to our agent, Xin
VonBrey, finalizing the transactions on half a dozen inbound boxes
we'd taken onboard. Molaye could've done it, but I'd kept that
strange message my secret and didn't want anyone going down unaware
of whatever complications might arise from the sender of that
message. So I did it myself and kept the visit short.

I'd made my way back to the spaceport and was waiting
in the small, nearly deserted, terminal for a robot shuttle to turn
up and take me out to the gig – it was raining and the gig was on
the far end of the field.

'Cap'n Wilcrofter?' said a voice beside me.

Slipping my left hand into my jacket pocket to grasp
my sissy, I turned to find a rather disreputable looking spaceer –
a chief engineer by the look of him – with a large drooping
mustache standing beside me, peering at me rather blearily.

I opened my mouth to reply, but found I couldn't
think of a single thing to say. I just gaped and stared. He seemed
solid enough. Couldn't see through him, in any event.

'Cap'n?' he said again, after a moment, giving me a
puzzled look. The breeze of the approaching shuttle brought the
faint whiff of whiskey off the spaceer.

'Is something amiss? Have I left half my breakfast on
my mustache again?' he asked as I stared at him speechless. 'You
look like you've seen a ghost.'

'I have,' I managed to croak. 'You!'

'Aye? Me. In person...'

'Glen Colin,' I croaked.

That startled him. 'Awk! My fame proceeds me!' he
exclaimed, and watching me closely added, 'Aye, that's me, Chief
Engineer Glen Colin. How'd you do, Cap'n?' He offered his hand,
which I took automatically. It was solid enough. 'We've crossed
orbits, I gather, but I can't quite place where'

'You're... here. You can't be.'

He looked around puzzled. 'And why not?' he asked
with a quizzical look.

'Because you're a ghost,' I blurted out.

He gave me a long measuring look. 'I fear one of us
ain't strictly sober. And unfortunately, I am. So that leaves you.
I envy you, but no fear, Cap'n I'm no ghost. Not that I know of.
Must've been some other Glen Colin.'

'We've met. In the engine room of my ship. You were
very much a ghost back . Came and went in the middle of a passage.
And not for the first time, I've been told.'

'Ah, well, Cap'n. I don't rightly recall that
incident. Don't remember ever crossing orbits with'ya, truth be
told. Seems hardly possible. I haven't been around much, though
there's a lot of my long life I don't remember all that well,' he
added with a sly smile under his mustache.

'In my engine room. The...' I almost blurted out
Lost Star
, but managed to change it to 'the
Starry
Shore
. We talked. You suggested we reinforce the saddle of the
engine we'd moved aft...'

'And when would this be, if you don't mind me
asking.'

'Oh, some seven, eight years back,' I said, still
trying to make sense of this. I knew I was strictly sober, and
hopefully, sane.

He looked thoughtful for a bit and shrugged, 'Very
curious. Yes, very curious indeed. I'd like to hear more about
that, and well, you're looking rather pale and in need of a stiff
drink, I'm thinking. I'm a mite thirsty myself. There's a snug
lit'l port not far from the gate where you can tell me about our
previous meeting. I'm curious, as to the circumstances of my
supposed visit.'

I stood staring at him, trying to think clearly. He'd
been helpful when we last met and seemed pretty harmless now. And I
was pretty sure he wasn't a ghost this time. 'I'm curious too. And
I could use a drink, now that you mention it,' I said slowly. 'Lead
on.'

We returned to the gate and dashed across the wide
boulevard to a conveniently close dive on the far side without
getting too damp. I ordered a rum, he two whiskeys at the bar and
we made our way to a table in the deep shadows of the long, low,
and largely empty taproom.

He took a long sip of his first drink and said, 'Spin
your yarn, Cap'n.'

I did, without mentioning destination or its exact
location.

'In wyrm weather, you say,' he said thoughtfully when
I mentioned that part of it.

'Aye. And I suspect that's a significant factor.'

'You're no doubt right. but go on.'

'And you said I knew the ship?' he asked when I came
to the part about his advice about the makeshift saddle needing to
be beefed up.

'Aye. You said you'd served in that engine room for
many years. I believe you called it the
Lark
.'

'Ah, the old
Desperate
Lark
. I passed
many'a long watch pushing that old girl along on skill and luck.
That'd explain it...'

'There was a legend aboard the ship that this wasn't
the first time you appeared as a ghost. You were even said to stand
a watch or two as one, so I knew who you were right off.'

He smiled and shook his head, 'I get around a'bit,
don't I? It's a talent of mine. But carry on, finish your
tale.'

When I finished, he sat in silence, nursing his
second glass for a while, lost in thought.

'Care to enlighten me?' I asked.

He finished his second whiskey and gave me a
meaningful look, so I called out for another and waited patiently
for him to take his first sip.

'Well, I can't see any reason for keeping ya in the
dark. I've no recollection of visiting the ol'Lark since I signed
off 70 some years ago. That's not to say I didn't visit as you
said. It's just that I've spent most of my time since in a
sleeper-pod. So if I did visit you, it was as a sleepwalker, or in
some very strange sort of two way dream, which I can't remember, it
being a dream. That's why it's so curious. It would seem that I
have a whole other life I'm unaware of, awake anyway...'

'You're the most Neb-blasted strangest sleepwalker
I've ever crossed orbits with if you can walk to the old
Lark
anywhere in the Neb in your sleep.'

'I think we can blame that on the wyrm weather. I
doubt I'm wandering the Neb in my sleep, at least that solidly,' he
said thoughtfully. 'But you see, the thing is, finding my way to
places I've been to is a special talent of mine. I'm a chief
engineer by trade, but by birth I'm what's called a Guide. It's a
talent, you see. I can find my way back to anyplace I've ever
been.' He laughed, 'Now I'm sure you're thinking, so what? Who
can't? But you see, with me it's a special, well, psychic power
that runs in the family, generation to generation. Oh, we're very
highly valued people where we come from. Highly valued, indeed,
mate, because of what we can do – find our way back – comes in
might handy, back in the old country. Truth is, I'm over 300 years
old, by the calender, least ways. But I've spent more than half of
that time a'dreaming in some sleeper-pod or anther. Ol'Glen Colin
has to be preserved you see, because of his special talent. Very
rare, very rare indeed on this side...'