Milk Run (Smuggler's Tales From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) (24 page)

“That’s why we try to be careful, Josh.”

“One mistake. One slip up. One stray rock on a trajectory from hell and we’re dead. We’re sailing with a crew of misfits, morons, and malcontents. Who’s gonna save our backsides when the devil heats the griddle?” He gripped his fork as if he might lash out with it in his anger. His knuckles turned white from the strain.

“It’s always been like this, Josh.” Blanchard’s voice stayed low and even. One finger looped through the handle on his coffee mug and he sat slouched in his seat as if engaged in a bit of friendly repartee with a shipmate. “Nothing’s changed since the last trip.”

Lyons groaned and shook his head. “Everything’s changed.” He jerked to his feet, throwing his silver down on the table so hard it skittered halfway across before coming to rest against the water carafe in the center of the table. “It’s impossible.” He followed Pritchard out of the wardroom, his footsteps clomping up the ladder to officer country.

Blanchard gave a small sigh. He lifted his coffee mug in a toast. “And then there were three.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Zoya asked.

“No,” Blanchard said. “With any luck, he won’t do anything foolish before we dock. Beyond that, we just have to keep an eye on him and hope for the best.”

“Lemme guess. He’s got a clean record with CPJCT,” Natalya said.

“All we need is his thumb,” Blanchard said. He paused and looked up at the overhead. “We’ll need to get somebody else for the next trip, I’m afraid.”

Zoya slumped in her seat and fiddled with the knife beside her plate. “It is a risky business,” she said.

“Not you, too,” Natalya said.

Zoya shook her head and gave them a small smile. “No. I’ve been sailing as long as I can remember. I don’t have any intention of stopping any time soon.”

Blanchard nodded. “But you’ve seen it go wrong.”

“Oh, yes. That I have.” Zoya’s focus turned inward and she pressed her lips together as if to keep the words from spilling out.

Natalya nodded at the empty chair beside Blanchard. “I thought we were getting a third mate.”

Blanchard shrugged a shoulder. “Kondur couldn’t find anybody who could step in on a few stans’ notice. The nearest body was out in the belts and the skipper didn’t want to wait for him to come in.”

“I hope that doesn’t bite him in the butt,” Zoya said, shifting in her seat. “I don’t know that I’m ready to be first mate.”

Blanchard smiled at her. “You’re better than Albee ever was. Just keep doin’ what you’re doin’ and it’ll be fine.”

“How long before we jump into Siren?” Natalya asked.

“A week, I think,” Blanchard said. “Then four or five weeks before we dock at Moe’s.”

Natalya nodded, the schedule ticking along in her head. “Good. I’ve got time to do a spares inventory before we jump.”

Blanchard grinned. “All this drama and you’re thinking about spares?”

“Hey, spares are what will keep us going if it all goes pear-shaped.” She grinned. “I’m also going to keep an eye on the engineering watch stander and check in with Knowles to make sure he’s got what we need to get home while we’re still breathing.”

“I like your plan,” Blanchard said. “And I’m glad you’re aboard.” His happy-go-lucky smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Chapter 25
Albert System: 2363, June 22

Natalya took one last tour of the engine room, double-checking the Burleson drives. She patted the dark green casings in passing. They felt warm to the touch, almost like something alive. After the short turnaround jumps they’d pulled coming into Albert from Dark Knight, she felt a little better for letting them cool down properly.

“Touch for luck?” Knowles asked from the foot of the ladder.

She smiled and shrugged. “Maybe something like that. Sometimes you can feel the vibrations if they’re off a little.”

“Something you learned at the academy?”

She gave a short laugh. “My father. Before I went to Port Newmar. They laughed at me for the superstition.” She reached out and stroked the case again. She imagined she could feel the whole ship around her like a living thing even if the whole idea was too fanciful for words.

He smiled in return. “Did you ever diagnose a drive that way?”

“No.” She shook her head. “My father did. Or at least he said he did.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened just a touch.

“We were jumping back to Valar from Dunsany Roads in the
Peregrine
. Made about three jumps and had the fourth one scheduled up, but he pulled the nav plot and went aft to engineering. He laid his hand on the drive and stood there for what seemed like forever. Probably three or four ticks.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen? Fourteen? Something like that.”

“What’d he do then?”

“Just nodded and grinned at me. Said, ‘Yeah. She’s out of alignment.’ He got out his toolbox and we pulled the cover and spent the next stan and a half realigning the coils.”

“Alone in the Deep Dark?” Knowles shook his head. “That takes some serious gonads.”

“It’s not that much different than doing it in a dock,” Natalya said.

“Except there’s nobody there to bail you out if you mess it up.”

She snorted. “Nobody to pick up the pieces if you jump into a rock, either.”

He nodded and made a stroke in the air with his forefinger. “Good point.”

“How are we in the swamp?” she asked.

He gave a short shrug. “Good. Gasses are fine. Nobody’s started a fire so the particulates are actually down a bit from when we left.”

“There was a fire?”

“No.” He ran a hand down the ladder’s safety rail. “Dust. Surprising how much of it accumulates when the ship’s not in use. Even in a vacuum.”

“Having people aboard helps that?”

“Having the scrubbers running hard and having people actually cleaning the surfaces helps that.”

Natalya looked around. “I suppose it does. I didn’t realize other people were cleaning.”

“Captain Trask likes to keep a neat ship.”

“Busy hands,” Natalya said.

“Oh, you know the captain?” He grinned.

The overhead speakers clicked and Zoya’s voice echoed around the engine room. “All hands to navigation stations. All hands to navigation stations.”

“Speaking of the captain. I think he wants to jump this afternoon,” Natalya said.

Knowles hopped off the ladder and headed for the environmental sections. “Seems like. See you after.”

Natalya waved and ran up the ladder, slid into Engineering Control and plopped into her seat. “Everybody here?”

Solomon sighed. “Almost. Ms. Pearson had a last moment trip to the head.”

A clattering of footsteps in the passageway heralded the arrival of the slightly flushed Pearson. “Sorry, sar.” She put a hand on her stomach. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“Rather there than here, Ms. Pearson. Let’s get on with it,” Natalya said and waved the woman into her seat.

“Now everybody’s here,” Solomon said.

“Power ready?” Natalya asked.

“We’re loaded for bear,” Collie said.

“Grav?”

Pearson made a fast scan of her console and nodded. “Grav ready.”

“Propulsion?”

Solomon looked over Town’s shoulder and nodded. “Ready to go, sar. Burlesons are charged. Safety interlocks on. Waiting for the bridge request.”

“They’re probably having a tea party,” Natalya said. “They’ll get to us when they’re ready.”

The crew laughed. Some a bit dutifully, but the tension in the room dialed back a notch.

A window popped up on Town’s console. “Bridge requests Burleson control.”

“Pull the safety interlocks, Mr. Town,” Natalya said.

He tapped a few keys and a red warning showed on his screen. “Interlocks off. Bridge has control.”

Natalya made a big show of pulling out her seat belt and strapping in.

Solomon looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “You expecting heavy weather?”

“Just taking precautions.”

A countdown timer popped on the main engineering display.

“Burleson’s engaged,” Town said.

“Seems like we’re going somewhere,” Solomon said, still standing behind his shoulder.

The timer zeroed and the capacitors discharged, bending the fabric of space-time for a few heartbeats while the ship slid through the hole into Siren.

“Time to recharge, Mr. Town?”

Town slapped a few keys and shook his head. “Reporting six stans.”

Solomon leaned over his shoulder. “Wonder where we jumped to.”

Natalya shook her head. “Sometimes you just jump long,” she said. “At least we’re not planning on jumping again anytime soon.”

After a couple of ticks, Zoya’s voice drifted out of the speakers. “Secure from navigation stations. Set normal watch.”

“Thank you, people,” Natalya said. “We’re in TIC country now. Stay alert and keep the logs up to date with the current stuff.”

“What? Not the made-up stuff we filled them with already?” Solomon asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Exactly not that,” Natalya said, grinning back. “If we get a safety boarding, we don’t want them to see anything too outrageous.”

Solomon flashed a fancy-dress-party salute. “Aye, aye, sar.”

Natalya chuckled. “Maybe best to keep that low-key until you’re ready to do it right.”

Solomon shrugged.

Natalya pulled the latch on her seat belt and left them sorting out the watch rota for Siren. She’d posted one already with copies to Knowles and Solomon. She wondered if either of the two had looked at them.

In the meantime, she headed for the wardroom. Zoya had the bridge watch, but she hoped to bump into Blanchard when he came down for coffee.

Chapter 26
Siren System: 2363, June 22

Natalya found Chef Marah had worked her magic on some fancy cookies. A tidy plate waited for her in the center of the wardroom table alongside a thermal carafe of coffee, the warm smell of vanilla mingling with the dark coffee aroma. Nobody else had appeared so she grabbed a mug and poured some for herself, debating on whether to respect rank order and wait for Captain Trask, or grab a cookie before anybody arrived.

Just as her willpower weakened, voices in the passageway warned her of Captain Trask’s imminent arrival. He smiled at her when he came through the door. “You made good time up the spine, Ms. Regyri.”

“I heard there were cookies and didn’t want to miss them.”

Blanchard followed the captain into the wardroom and Pritchard sauntered in behind him. With few preliminaries, Trask took his seat and the rest followed suit. The captain started the carafe around the table in one direction and the plate of cookies in the other, after helping himself to each first. “So. Comments?” he asked, looking at Blanchard.

“I’m surprised,” Blanchard said. “You almost never jump exactly where you want.”

Trask nodded and sipped his coffee before answering. “I’d call it damn fine navigation.”

Blanchard sighed and shook his head. “Luck. All it is.”

“I’ll take luck,” the captain said with a wink at Pritchard. “How about you, Steven? You not averse to a bit of good luck?”

Pritchard nibbled on the edge of a cookie and nodded. “You bet, Captain. Mostly I have bad luck so any good luck that comes my way—well—I just look at it as a down payment on balancing the karmic scales.”

Trask laughed. “Good luck with getting those leveled out. Most people want them tipped firmly in their own favor.”

“So true, Captain. So true,” Pritchard said, addressing his cookie with small, rabbity bites.

“You, Ms. Regyri?” Trask asked. “Luck work for you?”

“I’ll take it when I can get it. Luck favors the prepared, but all the preparation in the world won’t save you if luck goes against you.”

Trask shot a glance at Blanchard. “We seem to have sailed with a bunch of philosophers, Charlie.”

Blanchard swallowed a sip of coffee before responding. “Takes one to know one, Skip.”

Trask chuckled and nodded. “Guilty, I suppose.” He looked at Natalya again. “Your father’s words?”

“Yes, sar.”

“Sounds like him.” The captain stared at her for several heartbeats as if trying to read something on her forehead.

Natalya finished off her cookie and washed it down with the coffee while he continued his perusal. “Do I have grease on my face, Captain?” she asked.