Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (59 page)

Over the course of the meal, I admired Ms. Maloney’s ability to make small talk and keep a cheerful demeanor. I found it difficult not to brood on the idea that one of the two bodyguards might turn out to be a threat. I still couldn’t imagine what kind of threat all the gossip constituted. For that matter, I still didn’t understand what the bodyguard culture was about. I could almost understand the late Geoff Maloney’s need for protection given his role in the CPJCT, and being the CEO, chief stockholder, and driving force behind DST. I didn’t think that rival companies engaged in corporate assassination, and even kidnapping for ransom seemed beyond the pale.

Neither Ms. Maloney nor I felt inclined to linger over cappuccino or dessert. Ms. Arellone and the chief seemed happy enough to get out of the thronging, happily noisy crowd of diners and into the open. They led us directly out and down to the docks on a beeline for the ship. I wondered what images would appear next, and tried to keep an eye open for likely photographers.

We were almost back to the ship when I noticed a trio of spacers stumbling along the docks ahead of us. A guy had a woman on each arm, and all three of them seemed a bit worse for wear. The woman on the right, black hair in a spacer buzz, was the tallest of the three, and the woman on the right, a blonde with a stationer bob, was next. The short guy in the middle caught my eye for the unique color of his cropped hair.

“Isn’t that Perc?” Ms. Arellone asked quietly from behind me.

“Mr. Herring!” I called, stopping suddenly and disrupted their order of march.

He swiveled his grin in my direction. “Cap’n! Hey, girls! ’At’s—’at’s muh cap’n”

I wasn’t sure what kind of response to expect from the announcement. I wasn’t sure the pair weren’t taking him out to roll him, although after three days ashore, I didn’t imagine he had a lot of resources for them to steal. I wasn’t ready for the relief that washed over their faces.

“You really his captain?” the woman on his left arm asked, hope in her eyes.

“Yes. He’s one of mine.”

“Oh, good. Maybe you can take him, then?”

“Take him?”

“Yes, Captain. He’s had a lovely time, I’m sure, but he really needs to go sleep it off a bit.”

The woman on his right arm giggled. “Well, we had a lovely time, too.” She looked across at her friend. “Didn’t we?”

The first one nodded back. “Oh, yeah, but he’s about dead on his feet, aren’t ya, lovey?”

Mr. Herring nodded unevenly. “Yeah. Ready to bunk it I think.” He turned blurry eyes to his buxom companions and managed a credible leer even in his condition. “You ladies wanna come tuck me in?”

They giggled a bit, and looked at me a trifle guiltily. The one on the left patted his arm and said, “Not tonight, lovey. Maybe another time, huh? Next time you come back to Ten Volt, huh?”

The two of them released his arms, and held him up for a moment. When they let him go, he swayed but seemed to hold his ground.

The spokesman for the group nodded to me. “Thanks, Captain. He’s a good guy, but he needs to go home before he keels over.”

“Thank you, miss.” I said with a nod and a smile.

They each gave a little wave, and headed back down the docks toward the lift.

“Come on, Mr. Herring. Let’s get back to the ship, shall we?”

In a few ticks we had him safely aboard, and deposited in his bunk, clothes and all. I hoped he wouldn’t make a mess before he sobered up. He didn’t seem that far gone, having walked up the ramp, and climbed the ladder under his own power, mostly. I clicked off the light and closed the door.

When I got back to the cabin, I brought up my console, and sealed the lock. It wouldn’t open until I released the seal. It would not stop anybody from sending messages—or embarrassing photos if they had any—but it would serve to keep the more peripatetic members in the crew from wandering off again. We needed to get underway, and I could neither wait nor waste time searching the orbital seeking lost sheep when it came time to pull out.

I pushed it all out of my mind, and buried myself in the neglected astrogation updates. I would need those before I could lay in the course for Diurnia. Around 2330, I wrapped it up and felt better about the course plot. As first mate, and then captain, somebody else worried about the minutiae of astrogation for me. I had forgotten how much work it was—and how much fun.

As I stripped down to ship-tee and boxers, I wished I felt as good about the course Ms. Maloney and I should take with the crew. The idea that we would set them up didn’t seem exactly fair, but somebody was compromising Ms. Maloney’s security—and probably mine as well—by letting the newsies know where she was, and what she was doing. On the one hand I couldn’t really think of what harm that might be doing. On the other, it seemed like a pretty clear violation of our trust. The two notions chased themselves around the inside of my head until I fell asleep.

Unfortunately when I woke the next morning, not only had I not resolved them, but I felt like I had been in there physically running around with them. When I peeled my eyes open for what felt like the twentieth time and saw the chrono read 0512, my brain declared it morning and I crawled out of the bunk.

A stinging shower woke me up a bit, and moving around got the blood flowing. I dug in my grav trunk for a fresh shipsuit, and clipped on an old, slightly tarnished pair of stars, the first pair I ever owned. I needed inspiration, and hoped that Grandfather deGrut had some for me. Either way, we would be underway by day’s end. Sailing for what I still considered home port.

Crossing the passage to the galley, I saw Ms. Maloney already at work, and smelled the aromas of bacon, coffee, and frying onions. She had the big griddle out, and worked on a pile of potatoes and onions that looked big enough to feed three crews.

“Good morning, Ms. Maloney. Sleep well?” I crossed to the urn and drew off a fresh mug. Closing my eyes, I sipped appreciatively.

“Not particularly, Captain. How about you?” She glanced at me before running the heavy steel spatula through the potatoes and onions on the griddle again.

“About the same. But I got a course laid in. Soon as the cargo gets here, we’re ready to sail.”

“Any ideas on what we talked about last night, sar?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what’s most likely to attract the attention. I’d hate to go through that and not have the story picked up.”

She straightened up for a moment, and looked at me, the spatula held loosely in her hand. “Sex, money, and violence. Any combination of those would work.” Her mouth curled into a wry grin.

I grimaced. “Ok, so we need to convince one of them that I’m sleeping with you, another that you’re—what? Buying the ship?”

She nodded, weighing them in her mind. “Those might work.”

“What about a third?”

She scraped the potatoes and onions around thoughtfully for a moment. “How about we’re conspiring to take over DST?”

“Well, you are, aren’t you?” I asked. “I mean that’s kinda the point of this exercise, isn’t it?” I flourished my cup around a bit. “To get you in control of the company?”

She shrugged and nodded. “Yes, but what if we’re conspiring to do an end-around, and do a pre-emptive take down of Jarvis?”

“Can we do that?”

She looked at me with a grin. “I don’t know. Can we have a torrid affair? You planning on selling the ship?”

“Oh.” I felt a bit of a fool and sipped my coffee. “Yeah.”

“Ok, who do we tell what?” She asked.

“Ms. Arellone will find our affair most shocking.”

“Chief Bailey would feel the same way about Jarvis.”

I shrugged. “Ok, then we only have to convince Mr. Herring that you’re about to buy my ship out from under me.”

“Agreed,” she said, tossing a pinch of salt over the mixture on the griddle.

I stood there sipping coffee and admiring her technique on the griddle for a while, enjoying the silence, and thinking about the voyage ahead.

“I’ll be back, Ms. Maloney. Make mine over easy, if you please.”

“Aye, aye, sar.” She shot me a smile, and saluted with the edge of the spatula. I headed for the cabin.

I needed to unseal the locks and get ready for the cargo delivery. It was also a good time to catch up on the logs, and the smell of that pile of potatoes and onions was making me drool down the front of my shipsuit.

Chapter Fifty-Two
Ten Volt Orbital:
2373-February-2

The cargo crew showed up right at 0800. At 0930 I buttoned up the lock for departure. I had planned to get underway at 1500, but securing the cargo early meant we could move that up a bit.

I found the chief in the galley, having a cup of coffee, and I had the odd feeling that I had interrupted a conversation between him and Ms. Maloney, although they both greeted me easily enough.

“Chief? Are we ready for space? Tanks topped off and engines warm?”

“Oh, no, Cap. Tanks are good, sure, but the kickers are still cold. You want me to warm ’em up? I can do that, of course I can.”

“If you’d be so kind, Chief? I’d like to shake the dust off and head for Diurnia as soon as possible.”

“Oh, aye, Cap. I’ll do that right now, see if I don’t.” With that he stood, topped off his coffee cup, and ambled aft toward engineering.

“Moving up the departure, Captain?” Ms. Maloney asked.

“I think so. I need to see how fast he can warm up the engines, and I’ll have to refile my departure request, but I’d like to get out of here as soon as we can.”

“Any particular reason, Captain?”

I shook my head. “Nothing to stay for. We’ve got the cargo, and it’s too late to take on passengers now even if the endorsement shows up.” I followed the chief’s example and filled my coffee cup. “Will that hurt your mess plans, Ms. Maloney?”

She shook her head. “I’ve got a pot of minestrone soup today, sar. That restaurant last night was wonderful, and I thought it would make a nice reminder. We can eat when we want.”

“You’re making more of your bread?”

She jerked a thumb at a large cloth-covered bowl in a corner of her work counter. “Should be ready in time.”

“Excellent.” I smiled at her. Looking at her puttering about in the galley, I had a hard time thinking of her as the new CEO of DST. “You think you can stick this out for a whole stanyer, Ms. Maloney?”

She picked up a side towel, and wiped her hands on it while she considered the question, looking around the galley before looking back at me. “Yes, sar. I think so.”

“Good,” I said with a grin, “because this is some of the best food I’ve had anywhere—underway or ashore.”

She smiled her thanks with a nod of her head.

Another thought crossed my mind, and I tossed my head in the direction the chief has just gone. “Did the chief offer any explanation about leaving you stranded for the day?”

She shook her head. “He asked for the time to stretch his legs. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t planning on going ashore. I told him to go, take all the time he needed.”

I snorted.

“Yes, well. He took me at my word, apparently. I think I need to be a little more specific from now on.”

“Is he competent?”

She shrugged. “I’ve always thought so. I’ve never been troubled when he’s with me.”

“What about when he’s not with you?”

She gave me a baleful stare. “And when would that be, Captain?”

“What about the night out you had with Ms. Arellone?”

She thought for a moment. “You know, that was fun.” She smiled at the memory. “And I made her stop all the cloak and dagger stuff.”

“And...?” I asked. “Were you bothered?”

She frowned. “No.” She shook her head and added, “but that’s the nature of it. Just because we weren’t bothered that night, doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have been the next.”

“Doesn’t mean you would, either,” I pointed out. “What’s happened to cause all this fear?”

She shrugged. “It’s just the way we do business, Captain.”

“I still say it’s elephant repellent,” I told her with a sigh.

“Elephant repellant, Captain? There are no elephants out here.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“Oh,” she said, but I could see she was thinking about it.

I considered Mr. Pall and his insistence on pirates, staring dumbly into my mug before I remembered I needed to adjust my course plots, and file for a new departure time. “If we go to navigation stations at 1100, will that get in the way of lunch, Ms. Maloney.”

“Yes, although I can shift it.”

I shook my head. “Never mind. I’ll ask for a 1300 slot. That’ll give the chief time to heat up the auxiliaries, and we can eat before we pull out.”

“That sounds good, Captain.”

I toasted her with my mug in farewell, and headed up to the bridge to make sure everything would be in order for the departure.

The rest of the morning ticked down without incident, and I even managed to catch up on my paperwork. I think part of it was avoidance. I just didn’t want to think about the levels of intrigue. Dealing with paperwork, writing up the log entries—that was all much easier.

At noon, Ms. Maloney opened the lunch mess, and our long absent Mr. Herring dragged himself to the galley for some sustenance. He moved slowly and carefully, but I had to admit he didn’t look as bad as I thought he should have. I admired his youthful vigor.