Milk Run (Smuggler's Tales From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) (9 page)

“Once or twice.” Natalya shrugged. “I can run a sled but I’m rusty. Not much practice lately.”

He nodded. “It comes back fast if you need it.” He threw back the rest of his coffee and tapped the table with the empty mug. “I got a job if you want it.”

“Doing what?” Natalya asked.

“I need something delivered.”

“How big a something?” Natalya asked.

Kondur reached into the sleeve pocket of his jumpsuit with two fingers and pulled out a data chip. “This.”

“Do I want to know what’s on it?” Natalya asked.

Kondur shook his head. “Probably not. It’s just boring data. Nothing to see, but I need it delivered over in Diurnia.”

“Where in Diurnia?” Zoya asked, learning forward over the table.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. You can’t dock at a High Liner station. Ever hear of Odin’s Outpost?”

Zoya shook her head but Natalya nodded. “Rinky-dink station halfway between lost and nowhere.”

Kondur snickered. “That’s your father talkin’, but yeah. Combination den of iniquity and gateway to the stars.”

“What’s in it for us?” Natalya asked, hiding her mouth behind her coffee mug.

“You’ll want to top off your tanks. Maybe buy some food?” Kondur asked.

“Maybe.”

“All right. I’ll give you a chit for the chandlery. Whatever you need for supplies and I’ll toss in five kay as sweetener, but you have to leave as soon as you’re supplied and I need this in Gunderson’s hand in forty-eight stans.”

“You don’t have couriers to do that for you already?” Zoya asked.

He smiled and nodded. “I do, yes, but nobody’s going to be watching you except to admire that shiny old space ship.”

“Charts,” Natalya said. “I need a set of Toe-Hold charts.”

“See Inky at the chandlery. Tell her Bobo sent you.” He grinned.

“Visa?”

He nodded. “Half day unlimited. Deliver that chip by the deadline. Come back, might be I’ve got another little job needs doing and you’ll have full visa. Unlimited.”

Natalya thought about it. “Deal.”

“Pad?” Kondur asked.

Natalya pulled out her tablet and put it on the table beside her plate.

Kondur pulled out a similar unit and pecked a few keys on the screen before sending a near-field message.

Natalya’s tablet bipped a receipt.

“Charge what you need to that account. I’ll credit half when you file pre-flight and half on delivery with Gunderson’s receipt.”

“What if we’re late?”

“Don’t come back.”

Natalya nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Trick is to not have to,” Kondur said, the right side of his mouth curled in a half-smile.

Natalya extended a hand across the table.

Kondur shook her hand and slipped the chip into her palm. “Now scoot. See you next week.”

Natalya nudged Zoya and they both slipped off the bench.

“You got somebody to escort us back?” Natalya asked.

“Follow the green arrows,” Kondur said. “Your visa is good. Nobody will bother you.”

Natalya nodded. “Fair enough. See you next week.”

Zoya followed Natalya out of the dive and into the broad passageway that felt blindingly bright in comparison. “Green arrows?” Zoya asked when the door closed behind them.

Natalya pointed her chin at the decking. Somebody had painted green arrowheads every few meters along it. A few of them looked a little scuffed but the path pointed back the way they’d come in.

“Follow the yellow brick road,” Zoya said.

“What?”

“Old saying. Let’s go find the chandlery.”

The Main Street passageway had plenty of room for them to walk side-by-side and still allowed the other early morning travelers and revelers to walk—or stagger, as the case may be. The arrows took a turn back through the narrow passage to the atrium. The gardeners had gone, but the airy space had filled up with people sitting at small tables scattered around the area. Some chatted, some just sat quietly. A few left and more arrived. Almost all of them had drink containers or finger foods.

“Now we know where to take our coffee in the morning,” Zoya said.

“If we were going to be here in the morning,” Natalya said.

Zoya nodded. “Why Bobo?”

“What?”

“Kondur. Inky. Bobo? Remember?” Zoya asked.

Natalya shrugged. “Might be some kind of Toe-Hold slang. It was something my mother used to call my father when he did something stupid.”

“That something he did often?”

“Often enough. Probably why they split up.”

“So why’d you take only five kay?”

The path led them back into a dim passageway. Natalya didn’t answer until the passing foot traffic had cleared.

“He doesn’t know what we need for supplies.” She grinned at Zoya.

“What are you thinking?”

“He said whatever we need,” Natalya said.

“Nats. You’ve got that look.”

“Let’s see what the chandlery can supply in the way of galley supplies, shall we?”

“You wouldn’t.”

Natalya tsked. “For two kilos of that coffee? I most certainly would.”

“I don’t think that’s what he had in mind.”

“It’s a test. I suspect there’s a credit limit on this account number. Food, fuel, water, volatiles. Coffee is food. He knows it. I bet he’s watching to see if we take any. That’s why he only offered five kay and why I accepted it.”

Zoya sighed and shook her head. “You’re gonna get us killed.”

Natalya laughed. “Maybe someday. Not today.” She quickened her pace. “Come on. Time flies and so should we.”

Chapter 8
Dark Knight Station: 2363, May 27

The green arrowheads led them back to the docking section. “Now where?” Zoya asked, as they stood outside their docking tube. “Logically, the chandlery shouldn’t be far from the docks.”

Natalya looked down the long gallery in each direction. “Logically, it’s not far from the large ship docks. Freighters, mining tenders, and bulk haulers would not be docking here.” She waved a hand at the small ship bay.

“I’d buy that.”

“Also logically, they’re not going to run down here with a fuel dolly or a water hauler to top our tanks. Come on. I bet we’re overthinking it.” She led the way onto the ship.

Zoya laughed. “Of course.”

Natalya dropped into the pilot couch and brought up the station network on her console. The menu listed chandlery services first. A few keystrokes and Kondur’s account number got them tied to tankage. Natalya ordered water, volatiles, and gasses be topped up.

“That’s that, but what about food?” Zoya asked.

“I wanna do that in person. We need to go there anyway to find Inky. I’m also going to run a spares inventory to get a shopping list.” She twisted her mouth into a wry smile. “We may not have the regulation quantity of all the spares we’re supposed to have.”

“What regs?” Zoya asked.

Natalya laughed. “Let’s just say, prudence might suggest we have a few more scrubber filters and a couple extra potable water filters.”

“You’re going to charge them to Kondur?”

“If I can.”

Zoya laughed. “All right. Where’s the chandlery?”

Natalya pulled up the chandlery’s contact page, which showed a handy station map with blinking yellow lights tracing a line from where they sat on the ship, down the long corridor, around a bend, and into a passageway so wide it looked like a six-lane road.

“They build things big here,” Zoya said.

“They probably need them wide to carry supplies and goods. You’re used to orbitals where every storefront and shop on the promenades has a service door in the back with heavy lifts in the core.” Natalya checked the engineering readouts to make sure the tanks were getting filled before closing the screens.

“That was fast,” Zoya said.

“I should have figured they’d have tied on the tankage connections with the shore-ties. It’s what we did in every other port.” Natalya shook her head. “We need to get moving and I don’t know where we’re going without the charts.”

When they stepped out of the docking tube, Zoya pointed to the deck. “Yellow.”

Natalya blinked. A line of scuffed, faded, and dirt-smudged yellow arrows pointed the path toward the chandlery. “Were they there all along?”

Zoya shrugged. “I’m guessing yes, but they’re so worn and grubby, we didn’t notice.”

Natalya gave a short laugh and struck off along the gallery. The moist, green smell faded away to something slightly more astringent. It tickled Natalya’s nose with familiarity but she couldn’t quite place it. They turned the corner and found the large craft docks. The stink of hydraulic fluid and antiseptic cleaners masked the homier smells of plants and soil.

“I’ll say one thing for this station,” Zoya said. “The docks aren’t freezing.”

Natalya nodded. “I’m not sure what the difference is. They’re even using the same ten-meter docking rings.” She pointed at the nearest lock.

“That could have come right out of any orbital I’ve ever seen,” Zoya said. “Even the tattletale readouts are the same.”

Natalya walked over to the nearest one and peered at it. “Not quite.”

Zoya looked to where the screen should have shown the vessel. All it said was “Occupied.”

Foot and vehicle traffic kept them close to the bulkhead as they made the final leg to the chandlery. The yellow markers led them into a massive warehouse space with a service counter across the front. The smell of packaging and cleaners mixed with the slimy aromas of lubricants and sealants.

“Must be the place,” Natalya said.

Zoya chuckled. “What makes you think so?”

Natalya pointed up. The word “Chandlery” had been painted in two-meter-tall letters in an eye-searing yellow. “I bet it glows in the dark.”

Zoya glanced up at the lighting panels in the overhead. “I don’t think it ever gets dark here.”

“Good point.” Natalya said and headed for the counter. “Let’s see what they have for packaged food.”

Spacers lined the service bar two deep, but the crew behind the counter was fast. Natalya barely had a chance to check out the bouncers and enforcers lounging around before a short, wiry guy with just a fringe of gray around his bald pate waved them forward.

“What cha need?” he asked.

“Need to replenish food.”

“You want individual meals or you gonna cook?” The man’s voice seemed just a pitch too high for his frame, but it cut through the background noise without him having to yell.

“Individual meals. Frozen, if you got it.”

He gave a judicious nod. “Frozen we got. Biggest freezer in the universe just outside the lock.” He smiled at his own joke. “Any preferences?”

Natalya looked at Zoya, who shook her head.

“I’ve got six empty cubes in my freezer. Mix and match the meals,” Natalya said.

The old man’s fingers rattled a tattoo on the keys and he looked up at Natalya. “Payment?”

Natalya pulled up her tablet and displayed Kondur’s account number. “Charge it to this account.”

The old man flashed a scanner at it, then consulted his screen with a nod. “Anything else?”

“Coffee.”

A tiny hint of a smile brushed the man’s mouth and he arched an eyebrow. “Kondur’s blend isn’t for sale.”

Natalya grinned at him. “Can’t blame a girl for tryin’. Got anything good?”

“You like something earthy like Sulawesi?”

“I prefer something brighter. Like Caturra.”

He nodded. “I have a nice Arabasti. Light city roast in five-kilo vacuum tubs.”

“How much?”

He grinned. “What do you care? Kondur’s paying.”

“Gimme two.”

He laughed outright at that. “You two gonna drink ten kilos of Arabasti?”

Natalya thought for a moment. “How much are they?”

“A hundred twenty a tub.”

“I’ll give you a kilocred for ten. Separate order.”

“You two are off that scout, right?” he asked.

Natalya glanced at Zoya. “So?”

He nodded and winked. “Let’s finish your replenishment order and we’ll talk.” He punched a few more buttons. “Anything besides the food and coffee?”

“Charts? I need an update.”

He pointed to a door off to the side of the counter. “Through there. Down the hall. Cartography. She’ll help you. Anything else?”

Again Natalya glanced at Zoya, who again shook her head.

“We’re good,” Natalya said.

He tapped that screen closed and opened a new one. “Now? You wanted some coffee?”

“Ten tubs.” Natalya said.

“Yes, Captain. I can give you a nice discount on ten tubs.” He offered the tab showing a thousand credits on the total and ten tubs of Arabasti.

She thumbed the tab. “Could you have that delivered to the
Peregrine
with my other order?”

He nodded again. “You bet, Cap. Anything else I can help you with today?”

“Thanks, no. You’ve been a great help.”

“My pleasure.” He looked over Natalya’s shoulder and said, “I can help who’s next.”

Natalya and Zoya took the cue and went in search of the cartography office.

“What are you going to do with fifty kilos of coffee?” Zoya asked.

“Sell it, I hope.” Natalya grinned over her shoulder at Zoya. “Or we’re never going to run out of fresh brewed.”

“Why coffee?”

Natalya shook her head. “Dunno. Because it was there. Maybe this Outpost we’re going to needs some. Maybe we carry it around until we turn a profit on it.”