Milk Run (Smuggler's Tales From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) (29 page)

“Oh, for the love of all that’s holy in your world, stop calling me chief.” He leaned forward on his elbows and grabbed his temples with his hands. “Mr. Lyons will do but if that’s too formal for you, Josh. Better yet, just tell me what you want from me.”

“You’re the cargo master. You know inventory management. I’ve got to take an inventory of the whole damn locker and you’re the resident expert on how to do that effectively.”

He scrubbed his face with his hands and blew out a breath. “Start on one end. Go through it all, bin by bin. Count what’s there. Mark it on your tablet. It’s not brain science.”

“I like this plan, Mr. Lyons. Would it work better with a couple of people? One to look and count and the other to mark?”

He moaned a little. “Just scan the bin label with your tablet. It’ll pull up the record and tell you what’s supposed to be there. Correct it and scan the next.”

“So you’ll help me, then?”

Lyons lifted his head up and stared at her. “At what point did I even suggest that might be an option?”

“You’re clearly the expert at this, Mr. Lyons. I never would have thought to scan the label with my tablet.”

“Were you raised under a rock?”

“In one, mostly.”

“In a rock.”

“Asteroid station in Valar up in Tellicheri.”

He closed his eyes and lowered his face into his hands again. After several moments he asked, “Are you still here?”

“Yes.”

“What do you really want?” he asked, speaking into his hands.

“Somebody to verify that the counts are valid. I could cheat them myself without an auditor.”

He sighed. “You’ve never scanned a bin label but you know about inventory audits.” He lifted his head again, looking for all the world like it weighed twenty kilos. “Who are you?”

“Engineering third officer.”

“Barbells aren’t rated for engineering thirds.”

“Depends on who’s doing the rating. We’re not in the High Line anymore.”

He blinked each eye individually and then together. “I thought we’d jumped to Siren.”

She smiled. “Now you know why I need an unimpeachable auditor to oversee this.” She gave him a few heartbeats to ponder. “So. Are you going to sit here in this squalid dump feeling sorry for yourself, Mr. Lyons? Or will you come help me save the ship?”

Her question poked a laugh out of him. “You’re going to save the ship with a spares inventory? How does that work?”

“It works by getting the tools and spares we need to keep the ship from blowing up the next time we try to jump.”

His eyes widened for a moment. Natalya thought it was mostly a stretching exercise because he didn’t seem surprised. “Why jump if it’ll blow up?” he asked after several moments.

“Well, it might not blow up. It’ll be less likely if we have the replacement emitter bus coupling that should be in the spares locker. But isn’t.”

He heaved a huge sigh and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “You’re going to go through every possible disaster which might be caused by a missing spare part, aren’t you?”

“If I need to.”

“Squalid dump?” he asked.

“Hyperbole. It’s not that bad. Certainly better than I expected.”

“Why me?”

“I trust you.”

He lowered his hands and peered at her. “What could I possibly have done to you to deserve that?”

“Well, you’re not Pritchard. You’re not part of the engineering crew at all, in fact. That means it’s not likely you had a hand in the pilferage.” She shrugged. “You’re also the only member of the crew who hasn’t been all hail and well met since Albee tried to break Captain Trask’s face on a dinner plate.”

The beginnings of a smile seemed to tease Lyons’s lips for a moment. “I heard he got booted off the ship. I didn’t know why.”

“You left the dinner mess just a few ticks too early.”

“We’ve been underway a week?”

“Yes. Jumped into Siren a couple days ago.”

He sat, apparently lost in thought, so long Natalya began to suspect he’d fallen asleep. “You wouldn’t happen to have an analgesic on you?” he asked.

“I know where to get one.”

“I could use a couple.”

“I can get them for you.”

He sighed. “Yes, Ms. Regyri. Please.” He blinked and sat up a little straighter, then winced.

“And maybe a nice cup of coffee to wash them down?”

“You’re going to be like this?” he asked.

“Just trying to be helpful.”

“Spare me. Please. Just … let me dig myself out for a few ticks?” He turned his bleary, bloodshot eyes on her and waited.

“I’ll just get those tabs for you.” She rose and started for the door.

“Yes, please, Ms. Regyri. I would like a cup of coffee to wash them down. Just a splash of milk, if you would be so kind.”

She grinned. “Be right back.”

She slipped out of Lyons’s stateroom and almost plowed into Steve Pritchard in the passageway outside. The cloud of mouthwashy cologne nearly gagged her. His eyebrows tried to scale Mount Forehead before he got his features under control.

“I heard you’d braved the Lyons den,” he said, clearly amused at his own cleverness. “I could scarcely believe it.”

“Now you know,” Natalya said and sidled past him toward the ladder down to the galley.

“May I ask?”

She turned to find Pritchard close on her heels. “Ask what?”

“What you’re doing in Lyons’s stateroom?”

He seemed just a bit too busybody for her taste.

“You can ask.”

“What were you doing in Lyons’s stateroom?”

“Well, we were just having a little chat about this and that. You know, how people do.”

“Ms. Regyri.” He smiled in a way that made her want a shower. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

“You’ve found me out. We were having wild monkey sex on his desk and rolling around in the empty bottles under his bunk.”

Pritchard’s face turned a darling shade of pink. “Well, I never.”

“You should try it sometime,” Natalya said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me? I’ve got an errand to run.” She waved her fingers in a stupid, flirty gesture. “Tootles.”

She left him spluttering in the passage outside of the cabin and snickered all the way to the first aid dispensary outside the wardroom.

Chapter 30
Siren System: 2363, June 23

When Natalya led Josh Lyons down the spine and through engineering she felt a little like the drum major in a very short parade. Everybody along the way stopped to gawk. To their credit, nobody commented on the cargo master’s appearance (rumpled and all but bleeding from his eyes) or his demeanor (something between grumpy and stabby).

She also had to give Lyons credit. Once she got the analgesics into him along with most of a cup of coffee, he never balked.

Before they got to the spares locker, Solomon fell in step with Natalya with a cautious glance behind her at Lyons. “Something up, boss?”

“Spares inventory. Mr. Lyons is going to help me run an audit.”

“You need a hand?” she asked, grabbing another glance behind her.

“You’ve got watchstanding duties,” Natalya said. “Besides, I’d feel better getting somebody outside the department as an external auditor.”

Solomon leaned in close and lowered her voice. “Can he see straight?”

“No, but I can hear just fine, Ms. Solomon,” Lyons said.

Color rose up her neck and over her ears. “Sorry. No offense.”

“None taken, Ms. Solomon,” Lyons said.

“We’ve got it, Ms. Solomon. You’ve got other duties.” Natalya shot a pointed look back up the ladder toward Engineering Control and the small cluster of hands peering down at them.

“You’re the boss,” she said and went back up the ladder.

“You handled that well. You’ve had experience working with crews?”

Natalya shook her head. “Not so much. Mostly just me and my father on an exploration scout, but I did well at Port Newmar.”

“Not exactly the same.”

“No,” she agreed. “I just do my best and hope it’s enough.”

He snorted. “Sometimes it’s not.”

She stopped at the door to the spares locker and looked at him. “Sometimes.”

He shrugged.

She opened the door and flipped on the light. “Here we are. Home away from home away from home for the next couple of days.”

Lyons’s head swiveled left to right and occasionally tracked up and down. He sighed. “I see why you wanted help. You sure Ms. Solomon wouldn’t be an asset?”

Natalya shook her head. “Calculated assessment. Could be wrong.”

“You think she’s involved?”

“Let’s just say, I don’t want anybody casting aspersions on our process.”

He peered at her through narrowed eyes. “You think Kondur’s going to be looking for a scapegoat?”

“Depending on how much damage he takes to his bank account, he’s going to be looking for a least a few pounds of flesh.”

“You don’t seem worried that it’ll be yours.”

“You’re pretty observant when you want to be. Where shall we start?”

He surveyed the room again and blew out a long, slow breath. “At the beginning, I suppose. How are they numbered?”

“Section, shelf, bin.” She turned toward the far corner. “Alpha-one-one. Over here.”

“Well, sooner started, sooner I can get back to wallowing in my own filth,” Lyons said.

After a bit of bumbling, Natalya handed Lyons her tablet so he could scan the label and she could count.

“You’re a better choice,” Lyons said. “I can’t tell scrap metal from legit parts.”

So they began—section by section, row by row, bin by bin.

After two stans, Natalya called a halt at Delta-four-six. “I’m getting punchy. I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

Lyons looked a bit better than when they started. Some of the inflammation around his eyes had either gone down or was being masked by the lighting. His hands had all but stopped shaking as they worked. She saw a tiny tremor as he keyed in the last number. “Grit and ignorance,” he said, looking up. “I could use a bit of a break before we start making errors we don’t catch.”

“It’s almost time for dinner mess. Will you be joining us tonight?”

He handed her tablet back and stared at the deck for a few moments. “Not tonight, no,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow.” He looked up at her and smiled. “Wouldn’t want too much shock to shipboard culture all at once.”

“You’re not going to drink your dinner, are you?”

He smiled and shrugged. “What if I do? My business.”

“Until morning, when I need your help for another full day of fun and festivities.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Am I going to have to allow time for you to sober up?”

“No,” he said. “I am rather exhausted from a week of drunken revelry. I think I’ll just have Ms. Marah send a tray and turn in early.”

Natalya smiled. “Probably the right choice. I know I’m going to be hitting the rack as soon as I can. It’s been a rugged couple of days.”

“Of all the functions involved in cargo handling, I find inventories to be the absolute biggest drain.”

“On your energy?” she asked.

“On my will to live,” Lyons said.

“Sorry, this is probably not your favorite thing to do.”

He shook his head. “Actually feel better tonight than I have all trip. I’m rather surprised.”

She slapped the light switch, closing and locking the door. “Any idea why?”

“It’s either the coffee or the meds,” he said, not looking at her.

“Uh huh.” She said. “That’s your story?’

“That’s my story.”

“Works for me.” She nodded her head at the ladder. “Come on. You’re welcome to wallow in your filth, but after crawling through those bins all afternoon, I want a shower.”

Lyons fell into step and they climbed the ladder. “I can understand that.” He lifted his left arm and gave himself a quick sniff. “Sorry, I seem to be a bit whiffy. In that closed space, too.” He grimaced. “Sorry.”

She shook her head and turned down the spine. “No apologies necessary. I’m the one who shanghaied you into the job. Least I can do is put up with a little whiffiness.”

Chapter 31
Siren System: 2363, June 26

Natalya slammed the bin marked O-27-56 closed. “That’s the one we’ve been looking for all week.”

Lyons stood up from the utility cart he’d been perched on and shook out his shoulders. “Last one?”