Milk Run (Smuggler's Tales From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) (23 page)

“How can you do that?”

“Easy. We’re not docking at Siren.” He paused. “At least, not right away.”

“Then how is this going to work?”

He grinned at her like a boy with a frog in his pocket. “Siren’s Confederation, but they allow private platforms and stations to set up around the belts. We’ll dock at one of them, swap the cans, and move on almost before anybody knows we’re moored.”

“What about ordering tankage and spares?”

“Once we’re buttoned up with the cargo, we’ll dock. By then the cargo will be legit. It’ll show the correct provenance and routing to go back to Ciroda.” He shrugged. “Only thing is, it’s not going to Ciroda. We’ll take good care of it at Dark Knight.”

“So basically they’re turning a blind eye,” Natalya said.

“Yes. We’ll slide in and slide out. Our little birdies will get a chance to go ashore and tweet while we’re there, but as long as we don’t ring any orbital alarm bells, TIC won’t bother us.”

“Because it serves their purposes.”

“Yes.”

Natalya considered the idea. “What purposes?”

The captain didn’t answer right away. After a few moments he asked, “How much did your father tell you about Toe-Hold space?”

“He gave me the basic history. How it seeded the area. Did the exploration and tagging so the Bureau of Exploration and, later, the CPJCT knew what systems were commercially viable.”

“Did he tell you about closing their ports to us?”

“No.”

“It’s because they never did.”

“Then why all the sneak and hide?”

“What they did was establish a rule that made our operations untenable. CPJCT and their enforcement arm exist to keep the orbitals safe, the credits flowing, and the disruptive influences to a minimum.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Natalya said.

“Early on, TIC discovered that their plan had a fatal flaw. People.”

“Dad mentioned something about that. Psychopaths and the like.”

“So, there’s also a mindset that separates those who toe the CPJCT line from the people who itch under the weight of that much regulation. Almost from the beginning TIC recognized the difficulty in keeping a really tight lid on.”

“So Toe-Hold became the relief valve,” Natalya said. “This I knew, but not how it worked.”

“Yep. And it only works if it’s clandestine. At least in name.”

“That’s the part I’m struggling with.”

“Think about it for a tick. If it’s sanctioned by the authority you’re trying to escape, are you going to trust it?”

Natalya sat back in her chair and examined that idea. “So by making it illegal, it filters out those who just want to poke a thumb in society’s eye?”

Trask shook his head. “No, those people are why TIC continues. They need a way to manage the people who aren’t willing to stand up and move out.”

“Then why?”

“You had it a tick ago,” the captain said.

“The relief valve.”

“What happens when too much pressure builds up in a tank?” he asked.

“The relief valve bleeds off the excess. Vents it into space usually.”

“Does it bleed off everything?”

“No, just enough to keep the tank from rupturing.”

“Toe-Hold bleeds off the excess social pressure,” Trask said.

The logic of it snapped into Natalya’s head. “Being illegal means that only those people who are willing to escape by any means possible actually go.”

“It’s a crude valve but it’s worked for a couple of centuries now. Those who just want to burn it down? Those who want to cheat the system? They run into TIC. Those who just want to escape have a path. It’s tough enough that you have to really want to escape, but easy enough to do once you’ve crossed that mental threshold.”

“Heroes need villains,” Natalya said.

“Yeah. Where’d you hear that?”

“Something my father used to say.” She smiled at the memory. “He’d get on these tirades about how both sides held the other up as the villain because they each needed somebody to be against.”

“Your ole man is a pretty sharp operator.”

After a few heartbeats of silence, Natalya said, “So this little production we’re taking into Siren isn’t really as risky as it’s been sold as.”

The captain sipped his coffee before speaking. “Yes and no. CPJCT’s systems will examine us closely to make sure we’re who we say. They can’t allow Toe-Holders to bring in unauthorized cargo or operate counter to their regulations. You’re a legit engineering third—doing a great job, by the by.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m a legit captain, although my Master’s license was revoked about two decades ago.”

“Nobody will check it?”

“Oh, they’ll check but they’ll find that the license was reinstated just before I flew our first load into CPJCT space.”

“Was it?” Natalya asked.

“The records show it was.”

“Do I want to know how?”

He grinned at her. “You know the boys over at High Tortuga run the banks for the whole Western Annex, right?”

“Yep.”

“They might have put in a backdoor when they set up the banking system for CPJCT.”

Natalya nodded. “I knew they put a lot into that system. Dad took great glee in pointing out that credits earned in Toe-Hold spend just as easily in CPJCT space.”

“And vice versa,” the captain said.

“So what’s keeping you in Toe-Hold space?” she asked. “Couldn’t you just pick up where you left off?”

The captain smiled at her. “I probably could.”

“Ah,” Natalya said.

“You ever wonder why CPJCT requires all these watches?” Trask asked.

“Safety.”

“Employment,” the captain said. “They need to have a lot of jobs for people to keep them busy and earning so they can pay for the goods and services they use.”

“That’s basically what Knowles said. But compared to all the people working for the corporations?” Natalya asked. “Fleet’s not that big.”

Trask shrugged. “I may be a little cynical. Does it really make that much difference to have a person there compared to having your tablet wake you up if something goes wrong?”

“The whole idea gives me hives,” Natalya said and rubbed her arms. “I mean, I’m not always awake on the
Peregrine
, but the systems are a lot simpler.”

“And you don’t have a long way to go to fix whatever’s complaining,” Trask said with a nod. “I’m still not convinced that this isn’t all just make-work.”

“Knowles agrees with you. He’s covering Environmental from his tablet. What about the bridge?” Natalya asked.

“When we’re ballistic—like now—there’s not a lot for the bridge crew to do. We’re out in the Deep Dark. There’s nothing we
can
do if a rock has our name on it. There’s nobody else within a few parsecs of us. Mostly it’s programmed burns and waiting for the capacitors to charge.”

“I get that, Skipper, but what about when we jump into Albert and then to Siren?”

“Yeah, we’ll need to keep a minimum watch up there. We’ll be under sail so we’ll need somebody on the helm. Packets are small enough that the autopilot can handle variations. We’re too big for that. Someday maybe they’ll get the systems to be responsive enough but for now we still need a hand at the helm. We also need to answer any calls that come in which means one of the officers needs to be there in case it’s TIC.” He pursed his lips and shrugged. “We usually have somebody on the generators down in engineering while we’re under sail. It’s mostly superstition, if you ask me.”

Natalya kept her mouth shut and her eyes down.

“Why’d you want to come out to the Toe-Holds?” the skipper asked after a few moments.

She glanced up at the sudden conversational course change. “Never considered doing anything else.”

“Then why’d you go to Port Newmar?”

“My mother insisted. She and Dad both went so she thought I should.” Natalya took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through her nose as she considered. “It was probably a good thing.”

“That where you learned to fight?” The captain’s eyes twinkled a bit.

“I’ll admit that it’s where I honed my skill.” She shrugged. “It came easy and that made me a target for the more testosterone-poisoned in my classes. I got good and stayed there.”

“You’re fast. I’ll give you that.” He tipped his mug and drained the last of the coffee. “Albee never saw you coming.”

“That was kinda the point.”

“You’ll have to watch your back when we get home.”

Natalya smiled. “Yeah. It’s a habit I got into at the academy.”

He nodded and pushed his empty coffee mug away. “You’re more than we bargained for, but I’m pretty sure we’re getting the best of the deal. Anybody gives you any crap, I’ve got your back.” He peered at her like she should know what he was talking about.

“Thanks, Skipper. I’m still feeling my way and trying not to get too distracted when things aren’t always what I think they should be.”

“If you can do that, Ms. Regyri, you’re head and shoulders above pretty much everybody else on this ship.” He grinned. “Myself included.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Thank you, Ms. Regyri. You’re dismissed.”

She gave him a nod and stood. “Probably better make a run down to the engine room and see if it’s still there. We’re jumping at 0900?”

“If the capacitors are charged.”

“We’ll be ready.”

Chapter 24
Albert System: 2363, June 10

The jump into Albert left them on the far side of the system’s primary from the orbital and a long way out in the periphery. The captain ordered the sail and keel deployed, and the ship settled in for the first of the long waits as they used the kickers and the sails to eke out a bit more velocity before the final jump into Siren.

Luncheon in the wardroom proved to be a haphazard affair, with the captain taking the first bridge watch and leaving the other officers to fend for themselves. Even the hermit cargo master came out of hiding to join them.

They’d only been underway a couple of days, but Josh Lyons looked a bit worse for wear and smelled like he’d been living in the same uniform the whole time. Luckily he sat far enough away from Natalya that she only got periodic whiffs.

Pritchard turned up his nose at the man, but Blanchard tried to reach out to him.

“Anything we can do to help, Josh?” Blanchard asked.

“Bugger off. All right?” Lyons scowled across the table and grabbed a biscuit from the plate.

“Just asking,” Blanchard said, holding up a hand in surrender. “I’m here if you need anything.”

Lyons shook his head but didn’t offer any further unpleasantness.

“I still don’t see how we’re going to get up enough velocity to be believable,” Zoya said, looking at Blanchard.

Blanchard shrugged. “We’ll be a few extra days sliding into Siren. Nothing to be done about it without spending too much time here.”

“We’ve been using the kickers pretty hard,” Natalya said. “Our tankage is down about half since leaving Dark Knight Station.”

Zoya gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of fuel.”

“The sails will give us a bit of a boost. Every little bit helps this far out from the primary,” Blanchard said. “We’ll angle the fields to give us a bit more angular momentum relative to the resident fireball, but we’ll be jumping at about 70 percent of normal velocity.”

“Won’t that look funny to TIC?” Zoya asked.

Blanchard shook his head. “I’d be surprised if they even noticed. We can delay slowing down so it’ll look like we jumped in faster by the time we deploy the sails and settle in for the ride to Moe’s.”

“The sails are still not going to add much in the way of velocity this far out from the primary and with that kind of angle,” Zoya said.

Blanchard smiled at her. “You know we’ve done this before, right?”

Zoya blushed and focused on her coffee mug. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

Pritchard said, “Oh, you should have seen me on my first trip. I sweated so much I practically had to burn my uniform to dry it out when we got back.”

The image left Natalya trying not to retch. “You seem to have adjusted now, Chief.”

“I’m doing my best.” He smiled at Natalya. “You’ve been a godsend. I’ve always lived in fear that something would happen to the ship and we’d be stuck out here forever.”

“We’d not be out here forever,” Blanchard said.

Pritchard looked up sharply and tilted his head the tiniest fraction to the left.

“We’d run out of food within a few months,” Blanchard said, his face a deadpan mask.

Pritchard’s face paled. “You’re not helping.”

Blanchard smiled. “Sorry, Steve. A small—if ill-considered—joke.”

Pritchard nodded, but pushed his plate back and stood. “I think I’ve had enough. If you’ll excuse me?” He didn’t wait for a reply but scooted out of the wardroom.

Natalya glanced at Zoya, who shrugged.

“Steve’s all right,” Blanchard said. “He can let his imagination get away with him sometimes.”

“What would you know about that?” Lyons said, his voice low and almost menacing in its intensity.

All eyes turned to him. Natalya had almost forgotten he was there.

“Easy, Josh,” Blanchard said.

“Don’t patronize me, you bullock. It’s dangerous out here. Any little mishap and we’re all goners. You know that, right?”