Ships of My Fathers (19 page)

The ships were listed in two categories. First were the freighters.
Vannover Markey
, damaged, five deaths.
Corey Tasha
, destroyed, all hands lost.
Kaiser’s Folly
, destroyed, all hands lost. A note appeared in red below reading, “Updated 3381-183, survivors four.”

Then came the combatants.
Reilly
, privateer, undamaged.
Hammerhead
, privateer, undamaged.

The
Hammerhead
, privateer. That had been their old ship, before
Sophie
. Malcolm had commanded it, both when he was a child, and back during the Caspian rebellion. Michael’s memories of the
Hammerhead
were mostly of tall corridors, spin-wheel hatches, and playing hide and seek in the engineering crawlways. But he also remembered that it had been armed.

Malcolm often talked of converting one of the missile bays into a hidden cargo area for “special cargo,” and Michael had a clear memory of sitting in the plasma turret pretending to shoot pirates. He had always assumed that the weapons were strictly to defend the ship. The border area had been very dicey at the time, after all, but he never remembered them actually engaging in combat. Then again, the war was over by the time he was four, so who knows what he would really remember.

Privateer. Letters of Marque. He had read enough to know their definitions, but he had no idea of what they meant in practice. But at that moment, sitting there in his cabin, he was not sure he truly wanted to know.

His door chimed, so he closed the file down and signaled it to open. It was Karen from down the hall.

“Hey there, Michael. I still have some time before my shift starts. Did you want to go up and catch the movie tonight? It’s
Concealed Interest
, one of my favorites.”

He nodded. At that moment, anything was better than thinking about Malcolm’s past. An evening with Karen would be a most pleasant escape.

Chapter 15

“When I want some distraction, it’s easy enough to find something to keep me busy. The only problem with that, son, is that when I’m distracted, I can miss something important.” — Malcolm Fletcher

A
RVIN WAS A MUCH LARGER
station, with nine rings plus frequent shuttle service to the navy base sixty degrees forward in the geostationary orbit. The crew of the
Heinrich
had its regular haunts there as well, but this layover was to be a very short one. A time-sensitive delivery of heavy construction vehicles was waiting for Tortisia. The manufacturer had contracted with S&W for delivery according to
Heinrich
’s original schedule, but they were still running six days behind. The deadline for a delivery-performance bonus had already passed. Now they were merely hoping to still get the on-time payment instead of discounting the transport fee. As such, the stop at Arvin had been cut from an already short three days to thirty-four hours.

Michael felt particularly sensitive about this because he knew he was ultimately the cause of them being behind schedule. The announcement came shortly after down-tach during lunch. He had gone forward from engineering to eat and fetch lunch for Zane and Nathan, so he was in the galley when Corazon informed them all over the PA. A general groan swept through the assembled crew, but to their credit, Michael never saw any dirty looks sent his way.

The liberty schedule was further cause for discontent. All of the crew that also had cross-ratings in cargo handling were restricted to the
Heinrich
to expedite the offload and re-loading of the cargo. Michael figured that meant he would have no liberty since he had such a cargo rating, but his name was not on the restricted list. He was slotted for general liberty from sixteen hundred until fourteen hundred the next day. As guilty as he felt about the delay, he could not let that go by unquestioned, so as soon they secured the drives after docking, he headed for the bridge.

Corazon was still sitting in the forward bridge, on comm with someone from the dockworkers’ office. “Priority offload,” she was saying. “I have additional crew standing by to assist as soon as you can get the loader array moving.”

“Understood,
Heinrich
. It’s going to be an hour, but I’ll get a team over there.”

She flipped off the comm and turned to him. “Be brief, Mr. Fletcher.”

“I have a cargo-1 rating, but I wasn’t listed for cargo duty, ma’am. I’d like to volunteer.”

She shook her head. “You’ve never worked a radial container ship before, Fletcher.”

“I’m a quick learner,” he argued.

She granted him a smile. “I appreciate your eagerness, Mr. Fletcher, and perhaps we can let you work a shift at a future port, but this time is going to be fast and frantic. I don’t want any inexperienced hands out there. Is that clear?”

He sighed. “Yes, ma’am. It’s just that I feel responsible for the delay.”

He felt a few eyes turn towards him this time, but Corazon only laughed. “Mr. Fletcher, when you command your own ship, then you can feel responsible for the schedule, but if you’re eager to give up your liberty, I will gladly put you to work as a runner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Thank you.”

“See if you want to thank me when we pull out,” she said. “Sleep when you can, and keep your link turned up.”

He went back to his quarters intent to at least rest, but he never got past taking off his boots before the first call came in. The captain’s manifest declaration had to be delivered to station headquarters before the offload could begin. He laced up his boots as quickly as he could and headed for the forward airlock. The line for liberty was already forming, and he cut through with the packet in hand.

Billy Mason was working the liberty lock watch again, but before Michael could even start to explain, Billy called out to the crowd. “Make way for the runner,” he said. Everyone shifted to the left side of the corridor and let him pass. He and Brookstone were the first out through the lock.

“You’ve got runner duty?” he asked.

“Yes. You?”

“Dockside lock watch.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a red card on a chain. “Here, this should get you wherever you need.”

Michael took the card and read it as they floated down the docking tube. “
Heavy Heinrich
: Captain’s Runner,” it said, complete with an embossed logo and scan tag. “Thanks,” he said.

“Are you getting any liberty?” Brookstone asked.

“No, I’m on runner duty the entire stay.”

Brookstone shook his head. “I’ve had that duty. Remember, sleep when you can.”

They reached the station lock and passed through. A uniformed officer was waiting for them, but when he saw the tag hanging from Michael’s neck, he waved him through. He took off at a steady jog and only then realized he did not know where station headquarters was.

He found a map at one of the section bulkheads and plotted a route. Headquarters was in the central core, but three rings away. He caught a tram into the core and then a lift down from there. On the one hand, it was nice. Everyone stood aside for him as soon as they saw the red runner’s tag. On the other hand, he knew that the entire cargo team was waiting for him to get that packet to headquarters.

Once he reached the right level, signs were plentiful, and once he found the main entrance, he saw a bank of windows next to it. The large red sign said “Ship Runners.” He picked the shortest line and got to the head of it in moments.

“Cargo manifest for
Heavy Heinrich
,” he said.

The man on the other side took it, passed the seal beneath a scanner and placed it on a conveyer belt behind him. “Wait over there for confirmation.” Michael looked to see several runners clustered around a few tables, most of them drinking from cups.

He walked over, found the cups and fountain and got some water. He sat down next to two other runners. “
Morgan Ruth
,” one of them said. Michael could see from her tag that it was not her name but rather her ship’s name.

“
Heavy Heinrich
,” he replied.

“Big ship,” she said. “You’re going to get a workout.”

He was going to ask what she meant, but the PA blared out, “
Morgan Ruth
,” and she hopped up. Michael turned to the other runner at the table. He was slumped forward, resting his chin on his hands. “You okay?” he asked.

“Three more hours,” he replied. “Three more.”

“
Heavy Heinrich
,” came the call, and Michael went back to the window labeled “outbound.”

A woman with her hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail handed him another packet. “Offload authorization. Put it in the dockmaster’s hands.”

Off he went again, up three rings, and out on spoke number six. A number of dockworkers were milling around along with a few of the crew. He spotted Wally about the same time he spotted Michael.

“Dockmaster!” Wally called and pointed.

One man turned and Michael waved the packet over his head. He reached out for it as soon as Michael got to him, tore it open and looked briefly over the first page. “All right, boys and girls, let’s get suited up and moving.”

Movement swirled around him as Michael bent over and panted. Eventually, Wally guided him to a seat. “Drink,” he said, handing him some water. “And try to get some sleep. You’ve got an hour, maybe two.”

By morning, he was starting to understand why everyone had been talking about sleep. Over the course of the night, he had made two trips back to station headquarters, one to the S&W corporate office, one to the representative of the construction equipment’s manufacturer, and one to the local branch of Fidelity Union Bank.

He was on the way back from that trip, riding the lift down from four rings up. He was starting to look a lot like that tired runner from the day before, but he still had six hours left. Alone in the lift, he leaned against the wall, and he did not even hear the other passenger come on at the next level. His first notice was when he heard the voice.

“Michael, is that you?”

He turned and saw his uncle. His eyes bolted open. This was the first time they had been alone since he first came aboard. “Captain!” he said in alarm. “Uh, yes, sir, it’s me.”

“Ah, I see she has you on runner duty. Takes me back,” he said. “Remember, sleep—”

“When you can,” Michael finished for him. “Yeah, I think I was about to do precisely that.”

“Heading back to the ship?”

He shook his head. “Corporate office... coming down from Fidelity Union.”

“Of course, that would be the performance bond.” He checked the time on his link. “Good, we’re still on schedule.”

Michael started drifting again, but his uncle’s voice brought him out again.

“Things working out in engineering?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Gabrielle tells me you’ve been studying the navigation logs.”

“Yes, sir. I still don’t have a rating there.”

“Still have your heart set on that captain’s exam?”

He came wide awake with that. “Yes, sir. Still.”

His uncle sighed and turned to face him directly. “Michael, about the name…”

Michael stood straighter, doing whatever he could to point his name patch at Hans. “Yes?”

“Understand that I can never forgive what...” He paused. “The loss of my brother eats at me even now. It’s hard to get past, but given the qualities you have shown the rest of the crew, I can admit that Malcolm Fletcher did a reasonably good job in raising you. It can never erase what he did before, but I can see that perhaps you softened him, helped him turn away from… from his past.”

“And the name, sir?”

“You can use whatever name you choose, Michael. I mean that, but I want you to know that your father was a good man. You don’t have to take his name, but his is a heritage you can take some pride in.”

“And Malcolm’s isn’t?”

Hans turned away. “I don’t want to spar with you, Michael. I only wish you could have known your father as I did. He would have been proud of you.”

Michael saw it for the compliment it was, but he could not bring himself to thank him for it. “Yes, Captain. Is there anything else?”

Hans opened his mouth to say something, but closed it with a shake of his head. He got off one ring before Michael, and as soon as the door closed, Michael regretted how it had ended. He felt that there was much more he wanted to say. He simply did not know what.

Three more errands kept him moving, but he did not run into his uncle again. At the end of his duty, he was all set to go back to his quarters and sleep at last, but he ran into Zane along the way. “Come on, Michael. We’re still on first shift duty. We’re doing pushback and up-tach before dinner.”

Groggily, he made his way back to engineering, lasted through the pushback and up-tach, and only fell asleep at his station once. He was not so lucky at dinner. After planting his face in the potatoes and gravy, Zane and Charlie carried him down to his quarters and tucked him into bed.

He woke in the morning and swore to never pass up liberty again.

Jimmy Anders rapped his knuckles against the security window twice. A bearded man leaned forward from his chair and slid the glass to the side. “What are you doing in here, mister? This is a restricted area.”