Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (51 page)

Ms. Maloney nodded her agreement. “And get the doubles in a different color so it’s easier to find them in the pile when we’re trying to set up the compartments.”

I pulled out my tablet, put together the order to the chandlery, and asked for morning delivery. “Done.”

“We’ll need a few shipsuits for the new person, Captain,” Ms. Maloney pointed out.

“When we find one, we’ll do that, Ms Maloney, but first shall we go see if we can move the partition?”

We left the chief measuring the bulkhead for the new installation, and headed down to the compartment in question. With the three of us working on it, it came together nicely. The extra registration holes all had identical plastic plugs in them. Once we’d identified the right spot to make the two compartments equal sizes, we pulled out the requisite plugs, released the toggles and with the two ratings on the far side pushing, the partition slid across the deck after an initial hesitation. When the pegs lined up with the new holes, we re-applied the toggles and locked the partition down, snapping the small covers into place to hide the mechanisms. As a final step, we used the plugs we’d pulled to refill the holes left in the other compartment.

“This is actually a lot better, Skipper,” Ms. Arellone said. “Frankly it was a bit claustrophobic in here with both of us. That extra half a meter makes a difference.”

I pointed out where the paint job on the bulkheads didn’t match and they shrugged it off.

Ms. Arellone said, “We’ve got some of the blue left. I can fix that in less than a stan.”

“All right, then.” I looked to Ms. Arellone. “Do you know of anybody on the beach here, Ms. Arellone?”

“Not off-hand, Skipper, but I haven’t really been looking.”

I grimaced. “I’m spoiled by having the DST pool to draw from, but I’m out of that loop now.” I pulled out my tablet again, and fired off an open berth notice for an ordinary spacer to the Union Hall. “Let’s see if anybody bites. I’d like to run any names by you, Ms. Arellone. It’s a small universe, and I’d like to take advantage of your knowledge of the area.”

She smiled. “My pleasure, Skipper.”

I looked back and forth between them. “Anything we’re missing?”

“Dinner, sar.” Ms. Arellone said.

“Last night in port,” I said. “Either of you want to go ashore to eat? I’m going to stay here in case anybody responds to the notice.”

They looked at each other, and shrugged almost in unison. Ms. Maloney said, “I should probably go ashore and eat a meal I don’t have to cook.” She grinned at me. “I may get tired of it by the time we reach Ten Volt.”

“I’ll go with you, if that’s okay with you?” Ms. Arellone said her.

Ms. Maloney chewed the corner of her lip and said, “All right, but not on duty, all right?”

Ms. Arellone shrugged, and agreed. “All right. Are we taking the chief?”

Ms. Maloney got a devilish look on her face, and shook her head. “I think I’d like to go out without my nanny for once.” She turned to me. “Captain, would you think us rude if we kicked you out of here so we can plot in private?”

I cocked my head as if listening. “Oh, dear. I think I hear my logbook calling. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to your preparations.”

“Thanks, Skipper,” Ms. Arellone said with a smirk.

I stopped in the galley on the way. The chief had managed to get the mounting brackets loaded up, and found a power outlet, but the console still wasn’t mounted on the bulkhead. I nodded to him as I refilled my mug, and headed to the cabin to work on my logbook, and left the door open so I could keep track of the fun.

A few ticks later, Ms. Maloney came down to the mess deck, and rustled about in the galley for a few moments. I heard her speak to the chief. I couldn’t hear what she said, but he responded. “Oh, that’d be good, yes, t’would. I could use a little time away before we head out.”

I was about halfway into my log entry for the day when I heard the lock open and close. Shortly after, Ms. Maloney stood in the open doorway.

“Yes, Ms. Maloney?”

“He’s gone ashore, Captain. I’ve put the pot of soup on to warm for you for later, and there’s some of the bread left as well.”

“Thank you, Ms. Maloney. Very thoughtful.”

She paused for a moment. “Thank you, Captain,” she said, before heading down the passage toward her compartment.

A few ticks later, the two of them, decked out in civvies, came striding back down the passage, and stopped at the cabin door.

“We’re off, sar. Don’t wait up!” Ms. Arellone said.

“I’ll leave a light on at the lock, Ms. Arellone.”

Ms. Maloney gave me an enigmatic smile, and inclined her head before they clattered down the ladder.

As the lock opened and closed, I wondered briefly if I were being irresponsible by letting Ms. Maloney go out without her bodyguard. Then I considered the formidable talent Ms. Arellone possessed—and her very interesting collection of cutlery. I chuckled, and went back to the log.

I looked forward to a quiet evening alone on my own ship. It was an odd feeling.

Chapter Forty-Four
Welliver Orbital:
2373-January-14

Morning brought several responses to the job posting, and a smiling pair of ratings on the mess deck when I went in search of sustenance at 0530. I found my coffee, a breakfast of fruit-dressed waffles well in hand, and a bulkhead mounted console still on the deck where the chief had left it.

“Good morning! You two look like last night might have been successful,” I told them.

Ms. Arellone smirked behind her mug, and winked at Ms. Maloney. “We had a bit of fun, sar.”

I looked back and forth between the two of them before asking, “Do I want to know?”

Ms. Maloney flipped a completed waffle out of the iron, and paused before refilling it from a pitcher of batter. After a heartbeat of consideration she shrugged and said, “Probably not, Captain.” She shot Ms. Arellone a lopsided grin, and resumed her efforts with the waffle maker.

I looked to Ms. Arellone, who giggled a little and shrugged.

The mysterious process of crew bonding consists of equal parts luck, selection, chemistry, and—as nearly as I could tell—magic. Coming up through the ranks, I could remember several instances in my own experience that helped me create lasting bonds with my shipmates—instances which I hoped my captain had not known. In that light, I nodded, smiled, and let the matter drop.

The console on the deck was a different matter, and it bothered me. I left it for the moment to address the more immediate problem of adding a member to our little family.

Quick scans of public records showed a couple of them were obvious discipline problems, one wasn’t even a quarter share, let alone the half share that I’d asked for in my post. The culled list left three likely candidates, and I messaged each to arrange interviews over the morning.

Immediate tasks complete, I followed the delightful aromas back to the mess deck.

Over plates of delicately crisp waffles and sweet fruit, I briefed the ratings on my plans.

“I’ve asked each of them to report on the hour at 0800, 0900, and 1000 hours. We won’t have a lot of time to evaluate each before the next one is due, and I’d like you two to help me.”

Ms. Maloney nodded, and Ms. Arellone offered an enthusiastic, “How can we help, Skipper?”

“I’ll interview them here in the galley. Ms. Arellone, if you’d greet them at the lock, and escort them up here? Then I’d like you to get yourself a cup of coffee and sit at that end of the table and observe.”

“Aye, aye, sar. Can do,” she said.

“Ms. Maloney, I’d like you to serve our candidates, if you’d be so kind? Draw each a mug of coffee and bring it to the table? Then putter at the stove or something. I’d like your impressions as well.”

She gave me a puzzled frown, but nodded. “Aye, aye, sar.”

“At the end of the interview, I’ll give you a nod, Ms. Arellone, and when I do, please take your mug and slot it in the washer for cleaning, and stand ready to escort the candidate out.”

“Aye, aye, sar.”

“Thank you, both.” I nodded to each of them in turn.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Ms. Maloney asked.

“I’m less interested in skills than attitudes, Ms. Maloney. I’m looking for somebody who’ll fit in more than anything.”

They shared a look, and nodded agreeably.

“Speaking of fitting in,” I nodded at the empty seat where the chief usually sat. “Either of you seen our chief engineer this morning?”

I got a chorus of “No, sar” back.

“I heard the lock, and a certain amount of what could have been giggling just after midnight,” I said. “I assume it was the chief who came in around 0130.”

“Giggling, sar?” Ms. Arellone asked, peering down into her coffee mug.

“Yes, Ms. Arellone. Giggling. The kind of giggling that made me think that two of my crew were up to some kind of mischief and had, just perhaps, imbibed a bit.”

“I don’t remember any giggling, do you, Ms. Arellone?” Ms. Maloney asked with obviously feigned innocence.

Ms. Arellone considered briefly, her eyes searching the ceiling as she pondered. “I can’t say that I do, Ms. Maloney,” she replied after a few heartbeats. “Are you certain it was us, Captain?”

I held up a hand in defense. “I make no accusations. I merely report what I heard.”

They grinned again, and I swiveled my chair to look at the tangle of work on the deck. I was about to buss my dirties when I heard a compartment door close, and some shambling footfalls in the passage.

The chief looked pretty bad. His normal stumping gait was reduced to some half-hearted and tentative steps. His eyes looked like they might start bleeding from the sockets at any moment. He gave every sign that he might suffer from an extreme hang over.

“Good morning, Chief,” I called cheerily. It was cruel, I suppose, but the wince that my voice elicited told me my suspicions were probably correct.

“Morning.” Our normally voluble engineer seemed somewhat impaired, and I was only marginally sympathetic.

Ms. Maloney, on the other hand, pressed her lips together in a tight line, and watched as the chief shambled to the coffee pot, drew a mug, sipped it once, topped off the cup once more, and shambled out of the mess deck without another word. I heard a compartment door open and close before relative silence descended again.

“Well,” I said, “shall we get on with the morning?” I set the example by rising and bussing my dishes before topping off my mug. While the ratings followed suit, and began securing the galley, I addressed the console units.

In a matter of about five ticks, I’d finished the bulkhead mounting, connected the big screen, powered it up, and linked the unit into ShipNet. A handy power node and a mastic-mounted charging holster for the wireless keyboard made for a tidy installation. I tucked the keyboard in to charge while I collected the loose litter of packing materials.

At 0730, while I finished up, the klaxon blared, and I turned to Ms. Arellone. “Either our candidate is exceptionally early, or that’s the chandlery order, Ms. Arellone. Would you see which?”

“Aye, aye, sar.” She scampered down the ladder, and I heard the lock open. A tick or so later, she stuck her head in and asked, “Where do you want these linens stashed, Skipper?”

“Just put them in compartment two for now, Ms. Arellone.”

“Aye, aye, sar.”

She disappeared back into the passage, and I heard her say, “Just down here.”

I unholstered the keyboard, and synced the console to display the bridge readouts. They showed us docked. It wasn’t terribly useful, but tested what needed testing.

When I heard the lock open and close again, I went out to find Ms. Arellone sweeping the lock area. “You know, Skipper, we never have cleaned up the entry, other than replacing the console over there.” She nodded her head in the direction of the unit in question.

“Something to do on the way to Ten Volt, I suppose, Ms. Arellone.”

She grinned and nodded. “There’s always something, isn’t there, Skipper?”

“Seems like it, Ms. Arellone.” I looked around once more, and had to agree with her assessment. It looked pretty bad. If we were going to take on paying customers, that needed to change. “Our first lucky contestant is Able Spacer Joseph Branch, Ms. Arellone.”

She kept sweeping, but nodded and said, “Aye, aye, sar. Joseph Branch.”

I returned to the galley to find Ms. Maloney beginning to peel and chop vegetables. “Ms. Maloney, can I ask you a question about your bodyguard?”

“Of course, Captain.” She didn’t stop working, but nodded to me in acknowledgment.

“Is he really an engineer?”

She gave a rueful grimace but nodded again. “He is, Captain, but I’m not certain just how good an engineer he is. His last engineering berth was over ten stanyers ago when he was on the
Achilles
.”

“Thank you, Ms. Maloney. I appreciate the information.”

“Is there a problem, Captain?”

“I don’t know, Ms. Maloney,” I said, eying the console on the bulkhead. “Perhaps.”

The chrono clicked over to 0750, and I took a couple of ticks to freshen up before Able Spacer Branch’s arrival.

The klaxon sounded at precisely 0800, and shortly thereafter Mr. Branch followed Ms. Arellone onto the mess deck. I stood to greet him and offered a seat across the table. Ms. Arellone and Ms. Maloney played their parts, and Mr. Branch thanked Ms. Maloney politely before returning his attention to me. He was a nice enough looking young man. His shipsuit wasn’t new, but appeared clean and free of Irish pennants. His buzz cut had been decorated with lightning bolts shaved in the sides of his head, and the edge of a tattoo peaked in and out of view at his collar line as he moved.