Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (38 page)

In less than a stan, the chief had the old consoles swapped for the new, and I had finished my updates. To celebrate, I helped him lug the old units down to the stores closet. When we had them secured, I scampered back up to the bridge to check out the new gear. It was a bit newer than the equipment on the
Agamemnon
had been, but it worked just like every other console I’d used—just a smidge faster.

Satisfied that the consoles were ready, I stood, stretched, and looked aft just as the stencil cart came into view around the limb of the orbital. Little more than a hard suit with a few extra appendages, the cart aligned with the ship to erase and then repaint the registration numbers and the ship’s name. Within half a stan we were ready for space.

Realizing I had about a stan before lunch, I refilled my coffee cup, and went to the cabin to make the much belated first entry in the captain’s log. If we were only going to get ninety days, then I wanted those ninety days to be as full and memorable as possible.

Chapter Thirty-Two
Diurnia Orbital:
2372-December-28

“So, will you be assigning us ancillary duties, Skipper?” Ms. Arellone asked as we settled down to lunch.

I thought about it as I finished my mouthful of sandwich. “I’m sure I will, Ms. Arellone, but morale and training officer are the two most important duties that fall under the heading of ancillary.”

She grinned. “I was thinking of morale officer, sar.” She cast a pointed look at Ms. Maloney.

“And I was thinking of training officer, Ms. Arellone.”

“You can’t very well assign me as training officer, Skipper,” she pointed out.

“Will you be studying for a rating this next round, Ms. Arellone?”

“Yes, Skipper. Ship handler.”

“Good choice.” I looked at Ms. Maloney. “Traditionally, the lowest ranking member of my crew is the Morale Officer, Ms. Maloney. That means the honor falls to you.”

“Certainly, Captain. May I ask what the duties of that position are?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, Ms. Maloney.” I speared a tomato out of the salad, and chewed it while I thought about how to explain it. “Basically, you keep your head up and your eyes open for dissatisfaction in the crew, or for ideas that might make life aboard more pleasant for all of us. Then you see what we can do about those ideas, and in most cases, bring your solutions to me.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, if any member of the crew has a problem that they don’t want to bring to the captain, they can take it to the Morale Officer for consideration.”

She glanced at Ms. Arellone out of the corner of her eye. “You’re talking about the two of us when you say crew, aren’t you, Captain?”

I shrugged. “Pretty much, Ms. Maloney. I include the chief, but I’m guessing he has no problem coming to me with a problem every time he has one.”

He snickered. “Oh, aye. You’re gonna wish you’d never brung me along, Cap, rightly enough. I’ll be a constant pain in yer side with all the botherin’ I plan on doin’, see if’n I don’t.”

I snorted a laugh. “I’ll look forward to that, Chief. In the meantime, if you’d look at the shower in the cabin’s head? The door fell off. I’d like it fixed, when you get a chance?”

He nodded. “I reckon we’ll be pretty smooth running once we get out there a bit, I do think so, Cap, yes, I do.”

I washed down the last of my sandwich with some coffee and turned back to the ratings. “Under the circumstances, you’re off the hook, Ms. Maloney. Appointing either one of you to morale officer seems rather silly, so I’ll forego that for the time being, but if either of you thinks of anything we should be doing, let me know, and we’ll see what can be done.”

They shared a glance, and I smiled inwardly at the look.

“It does bring up an important point, Ms. Arellone. The ancillary duties? Would you show Ms. Maloney the training materials?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Training materials, Captain?” Ms. Maloney asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes, Ms. Maloney. It’s a long time between stops, and moving up the ladder is one of the key activities—after sleeping.”

The chief chortled at that.

“What I’d like you to do is look over the various ratings, and work towards a full share in one of the divisions. Deck would make some modicum of sense since the three of us are all we have for bridge watch, but if you think engineering, cargo, or even steward, would be more interesting, go for that. The fleet wide examinations come around every ninety days, and the last one was just a few days ago so you have almost three months to prepare for one of the half share ratings. Ms. Arellone will help you get started.”

She looked at me curiously. “Even though I’m only here for a stanyer, Captain?”

I shrugged. “I can’t force you to, Ms. Maloney, and I’d certainly understand if you don’t want to do it, but each step has the potential for getting you into a higher pay grade.” I could feel the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I thought of how very little the pay grade, or even the share values, would mean to this woman who probably made more in interest in a month than she’d make as a crewman in a stanyer. “Besides, it’s something to do, and the more you know about how a ship works, the better and more effective you can be at your assigned duties.”

“Speaking of assigned duties, Skipper?” Ms. Arellone asked, “We don’t have navigation detail assignments yet.”

“If you’d standby the lock, I’d like Ms. Maloney on the bridge. Chief, I’m assuming you’ll be in the engine room, at least for this one?”

“Oh, aye, Cap. I’m gonna wanna be down where I can keep an eye on the boys and girls, right enough.”

“Are they all ready to play the game, Chief?”

“Tanks topped, fusactors ready to take over ship’s power, and generators on standby. Kickers are ready to light as soon as we’re clear of the orbital, Cap. We’re ready as we can be, we are that.”

“Thank you, Chief.”

He nodded his head and finished stuffing the sandwich into his mouth.

“Well, then, if we’re done with mess, let’s pick this up, and see if the ship will actually move, shall we?”

It didn’t take long for us to throw the few dishes in the dishwasher, wrap the left over cold cuts, and throw some cling wrap over the remaining salad. All the leftovers went into the cooler, and we topped off our mugs before going our separate ways.

I managed to control my excitement until I reached the top of the ladder. There is nothing like astrogation update work to temper one’s enthusiasm for sailing, but with the prospect of pull out—or in our case push back—looming, I could feel my heart rate climb just a bit. I’d been docked a long time, and I was ready to shake the orbital off my feet, if only for a day.

The new consoles looked a bit out of place—a little too new and shiny compared to the rest of the bridge. As I sat in the command console, I noted that we hadn’t cleaned the bridge yet, and vowed to do so at the earliest opportunity.

I opened the announcer and keyed the pickup. “This is the captain speaking. All hands to navigation stations. All hands to navigation stations.”

Ms. Maloney looked at me with an odd expression.

I chuckled at the confused look on her face. “It’s one of those peculiar things we do to make absolutely sure everybody knows what’s going on, and if something goes wrong, nobody can claim it was because they didn’t know. That announcement gets logged, so we use the announcer for a lot of things when we want to keep a record of what the crew knows and when.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy her. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Have a seat, Ms. Maloney. You’ll want to be buckled in when we pull out.”

She looked startled at that, and at a bit of a loss about which seat she should take.

I fired up the engineering console, and set it to display ship’s power and propulsion status. I patted the cushion in invitation. “Have a seat, Ms. Maloney.”

Her cool reserve returned, and, after the briefest of hesitations, she sat down and buckled in.

“That’s the engineering display. I’ve got the command display here.” The ship’s docking schematic with a red outlined oval at the bow of the ship glowed on the screen.

At 1300 I keyed open a channel to the brow. “Secure the lock and set doors to safe, Ms. Arellone.”

“Aye, aye, Skipper. Secure the lock and set doors to safe.” The small speaker set into the console made her voice sound tinny.

Watching from the bridge, I saw that it took her a couple of tries to find the right settings on the lock, but the red oval on the screen eventually turned amber. As it did, the engineering display showed the ties to orbital power and air cut off. The ship was on its own.

“Secured, Captain. Sorry for the delay.”

“No worries, Ms. Arellone. After we’ve pushed back, come on up to the bridge, please.”

“Aye, aye, Skipper.”

I sent a request to depart signal to orbital traffic control, along with my flight plan file ident. I received acknowledgment immediately, and permission to depart less than a tick later.

I keyed the announcer again. “All hands, this is the captain speaking, prepare for pull back in 10...5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” I pressed the key that would release the docking clamps, and heard the low cla-clunk from the bow as the clamps released and locked back into their boots. At the same time, the amber figure on my console turned green, and a quick check of hull pressure confirmed that the ship’s integrity was intact.

Looking over my shoulder at the empty space behind the ship, I nudged the helm control back a fraction. The maneuvering jets punched a quick pulse. Very faintly, I felt the moving lift feeling in my ears as the ship’s inertial dampeners kicked in and we slipped gently backwards out of the dock.

A quick entry in the navigation log marked the departure, and I looked over my shoulder to watch for traffic as I punched the maneuvering jets again to increase our delta-v relative to the orbital. Before we had gone a hundred meters, Ms. Arellone pelted up the ladder, and threw herself into one of the extra chairs on the bridge with a grin at me.

I grinned back, and hit the lateral thrusters to spin us, killing the spin with a counter thrust when the orbital was directly off our port side. We were far enough out that I had a good view in all directions. I glanced at the engineering screen, and saw that the auxiliary power showed online and ready, the fusactors barely ticking over. The sail generators indicated safe standby status.

“You ready for a kick in the pants back there, Chief?” I asked into the intercom.

“Oh, yeah, Cap. Give ’er a go!”

I keyed up the auxiliaries, and tickled them a bit to get them moving. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the power readouts climbing on the auxiliaries, and popped the seat belt latch so I could stand to get a better look around the ship. This was the trickiest part, but even in the thick of things near the orbital, there was plenty of room to maneuver and nobody moved very fast. Still, it was possible to run down a hapless hard-suit or out of position cargo handler.

Within half a stan we’d cleared the orbital’s most restricted areas, and I fed a little more fuel to the kickers. Our course angled upwards and out of the plane of the ecliptic, as the ship headed for open space. The ship rumbled from the auxiliary engines—a sound felt more than heard.

In a half a stan, a navigational display on my screen popped open to let me know we were more than a hundred kilometers from the orbital so I took the impulse power up to twenty percent, and hailed the engine room again.

“You still back there, Chief?”

“You gonna stop messin’ around up there and kick us, Cap? Ya got twenty and holding. Not even a whistle back here. No, sar. Not even a banging whistle!”

I spared a glance for Ms. Arellone who had a grin pasted on her face. Her head seemed to be on swivel. She kept looking around like she’d never seen cold space before.

Ms. Maloney seemed entranced. Her face glowed, and her eyes gleamed in the light from the consoles. She sat in the engineering chair, and gazed out aft to where the orbital and planet were slowly shrinking. We were still close enough in that the orb of the planet took up a lot of the view, but the orbital looked less like a city in space, and more like a tin can in orbit.

I eased up to fifty percent on the thrusters, and our rate of acceleration picked up. In comparative terms we weren’t doing anything like we would after a few days under sail out to the edge of the Deep Dark, but it still moved us a long at a goodly clip. The rumble in the space frame picked up with the extra power to the auxiliaries but it was only barely audible.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Invitation to dance?” The chief’s voice startled me when it came crackling out of the intercom.

I pushed the throttle up, and took the auxiliaries to eighty percent. I winced a little to think of how fast we were burning fuel in them. The rumble became a low roar, and when I looked back over my shoulder I could see the flickering brilliance of the escaping gasses just visible behind the mass of the ship. As the power settled at the new level, I began to feel a different kind of vibration. It wasn’t the steady buzz of the rocket engines vibrating with the almost musical scream of hot gas exiting through the ceramic nozzles. It was more of a judder, and it built rapidly until it felt like it was rattling my eyes in their sockets. I slapped the kill switch. The rumbling roar died as the auxiliaries went off-line, and we continued on a ballistic trajectory.