Ships of My Fathers (27 page)

But I’m not ready for that, not until I get the truth about Malcolm. I would like to think that your father is full of crap, but I’ve learned enough to realize that he might be right. It’s not enough to know that Malcolm was a privateer or that he was there when Peter and Sophia died. I have to know his role in all of this. Until I do, I cannot find my place in the world, whether that be on the
Heinrich
or not.

So I’m leaving. There’s a way for me to definitively find out what happened, so I’m going to do that. I’m sorry for not saying more or telling you ahead of time, but to be honest, I worried that your father would try to stop me. I won’t let him. I’ll try to catch up with you again after I know the truth. I’m sorry for all the problems that this is likely to cause, and I hope you and the rest of the crew will forgive me for doing what I have to do.

I expect you to share this with your father once you realize I’m gone. That’s all right, but please don’t let him try and stop me. If he does, I’ll only leave again when I’m of age.

Michael

“Fuck,” was all she could say.

The four of them sat in the officers’ wardroom. Corazon had brought the navy officer up, and Gabrielle had held Michael’s letter hostage as her leverage to get into the meeting. Her father had given her a particularly lethal glare over that, but she had stood her ground.

The officer was the last of them to read the letter. When he was done, he set the hardcopy down in the center of the table between them. “Thank you for sharing that with an outsider. I only wish I could have found him beforehand.”

“You said you were here because Michael requested some information,” Corazon prompted. “This was about Malcolm Fletcher’s war history, yes?”

Her father turned sharply to the XO. “You knew about this?”

Corazon held up her hand. “He had spoken to me. I suggested he file under the Records and Reconciliation Act, but I didn’t think it would net us an intelligence officer. Is that, in fact, why you’re here?”

“Yes, Ms. Corazon. That is indeed why I am here, at least in part.”

Gabrielle raised her hand. “Then do you know what happened?”

Collins smiled briefly. “I brought the information specifically for Mr. Fletcher. Forgive me, but I am not inclined to share it with anyone else before I can give it to him.”

Her father snorted. “Then what good are you?” He turned to the XO. “Why did you even let him on board?”

Corazon kept her cool. “Because I believe he can help us track Michael down.” She turned back to Collins. “Am I right to think that?”

Collins gave a slight nod. “I do have certain resources that neither you nor station security are familiar with. Michael’s case is of particular interest to me, so yes, I will help you track him down. However, to the point of his letter, I am not interested in stopping him. Rather, I want to get him the very answers he seeks.”

Her father stood. “I already know what happened, and I don’t need you to tell me again who killed my brother.”

“Father!”

Hans glared at her.

“Dad, don’t turn this into a repeat of Michael’s homecoming. If you want to find Michael, let this man help you do it.”

He took a deep breath and returned to his seat. He waved his hand towards Collins, but did not speak.

Collins accepted it and turned back to Corazon. “I presume you’ve already notified station security.”

She nodded. “But I doubt he’s even on station anymore.”

“I agree,” he said. “I can only think of three definitive sources for the incident in question, the records we have at Arvin, the records from the
Hammerhead
, and the records from the
Reilly
. The
Reilly
was destroyed near the end of the war, and the
Hammerhead
was scrapped nine years ago. However, I would expect Malcolm Fletcher copied the
Hammerhead
’s records to his new ship.”

Hans nodded. “And that ship is back on Taschin.”

Corazon picked it up from there. “So you think he’s headed either to Arvin or Taschin?”

“Very likely, but the question is how is he travelling?”

“What does it matter?” Gabrielle asked. “Can’t we just go there and look for him?”

Hans shook his head. “A station the size of Arvin? Or groundside on Taschin? If he didn’t want to be found, I doubt we would find him. We need to know which ship he took.” He turned back to Collins. “You can actually determine that?”

Collins smiled. “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

The
Jaguar
dropped out of tach at Magella two hours early. It was a much smaller station than any the
Heinrich
had visited, except perhaps Taschin, so traffic control was minimal. They pulled in at the one and only ring and docked without incident. Captain Lewis declared “restricted liberty” of forty-one hours.

As soon as he could, he asked what she had meant by restricted.

“I keep more of my crew on-board than many ships do,” Captain Lewis replied. “I find it helps with faster turnarounds, but I make up for it with some longer layovers at more hospitable locations, actually getting some vacation groundside.”

It made some sense to him, though Malcolm had never run things that way, even on the old
Hammerhead
. “Will I be able to go aboard?”

“I don’t see why not, but keep your head down. This isn’t as nice a place as Latera. In fact, why don’t you go with Anders? He can help you out.”

He thanked her and grabbed a few things, most importantly an empty duffel. He had not packed much in the way of personal gear, and the available stores on the
Jaguar
were not nearly up to the standards of the
Heinrich
. He was looking forward to doing a little shopping.

Jimmy Anders was waiting for him in the airlock, but he did not seem to be in any hurry. “Ah, Michael. You look ready for the hunt.”

He hefted the duffel. “Just looking for a toothbrush and some extra socks, that sort of thing.”

“Well, that should be simple enough. Let’s go.”

Magella station was not what he was expecting. It was not that it was merely small. It was run down, even dirty. It was not anything so obvious as trash on the deck or rust on the pipes. Rather, it was in the details: an old stain on a section of wall, an unpainted structural joint, that kind of thing. He would not have even noticed these things a few months ago, but he had grown used to the
Heinrich
, where almost everything was either spotless white or polished chrome.

The shopping was perfunctory. Anders found them a drab shop called simply Crew Supplies. Their wares were still not up to what he had had aboard the
Heinrich
, but at least it was better than what he had found on the
Jaguar
. Cotton seemed to be the safest bet here, so he loaded up. The toothbrush situation was not good at all. They didn’t have any of the pulse jet brushes, so he settled for one of the old vibrating kinds.

He made his way to the register, but Anders intercepted him. “Let me pay, Michael.”

Michael allowed it, but after they got out, he piped up. “Thanks for that, but I do have some money.”

Anders patted Michael’s shoulder. “I know, son, but I figure the less you show up on the station radar, the better. Now, if you’ve got actual cash, you can buy me a drink or perhaps a skin dance or two.”

He did actually have some cash. He had pulled six hundred from his account before Karen’s farewell party back at Latera. “I do, but why do you think I should stay off the station’s radar?”

Anders paused near a support column at the edge of the corridor and glanced around. “Look, Michael, I know you said you settled up with your old ship on Latera, but I have to ask. Did you really settle it, face to face, crewman to captain?”

“Not quite face to face, but I think I did enough.”

Anders shook his head. “I can’t blame you. I was young and impulsive myself, and I sure as hell avoided my captain whenever possible. Still, if you left with only a note or something, he might very well be looking for you.”

Michael frowned. “They’re not going to divert from their route.” At least, he did not think they would do it a second time. Not even Uncle Hans was that committed to the long-lost nephew. “Besides, I made it clear that they should not come looking for me.”

Anders chuckled. “And I’m sure that your captain has a long history of doing what you tell him to do, eh?”

Shit. “Well, not so much.”

“Look, all I’m saying is you should lay low these next few weeks. Don’t leave a wake for them to follow.”

“I guess, but I had thought I might send a message to their next port. You know, to let them know I’m doing all right.”

Anders shook his head. “Not yet. Why don’t you wait until you’re back on board your own
Sophie
. Tell them then, when it’s a done deal.”

He nodded. “I see your point.”

“You don’t want to call the Confederates down on us for transporting a minor after all.”

“Yeah, I guess I hadn’t thought about that, and I definitely don’t want to cause any trouble for you or Captain Lewis.”

“No trouble at all, my boy.”

“So, you mentioned something called a skin dance?”

Anders grinned. “Oh yes, I know a place. Hold your money tight, Michael, or you’ll leave broke and broken.”

It had been twenty-two hours since the four of them had last sat in the
Heinrich
’s wardroom. Ms. Corazon and her father were there as a matter of course. Gabrielle had not been invited, but she had been shrewd enough to be waiting in the inner lock to guide Commander Collins through the ship. She led him into the room and took a seat before anyone said a word.

Her father raised an eyebrow at her, but she stared him down with a glare of her own. Yes, Father was captain and uncle to Michael, but she at least had been his friend.

“Thank you for getting back to us, Commander Collins,” Ms. Corazon said, motioning him to the seat opposite her. “We still have no updates from station security or our inquiries to the planetary authorities below. We’re hoping you have better news.”

He smiled politely. “I do have news, but I don’t particularly think it’s better news.” He opened his briefcase and passed out hardcopies of a report. They were all stamped with “NI Classified” and were printed on a strangely slick paper. Gabrielle had heard about this stuff once: auto-degrading paper. The ink would be gone within the hour, evaporating as the paper slowly oxidized and disintegrated.

Collins laid his out squarely in front of him and flipped past the cover sheet. “One hundred twenty-nine ships left dock from the time of Mr. Fletcher’s last sighting to the time you issued your security alert. These are listed with their flight plans on pages one and two, organized by vessel class.

“Nine were passenger liners, and their passport policies are strict enough I don’t believe he could have bluffed his way on board. Another twenty-eight were corporate freight ships that had advertised passage, and nineteen of those reported taking on passengers. The N.I. office here has crosschecked all the passenger names reported by those vessels against next of kin and other contacts, and they seem to be legitimate. An additional eighteen ships had posted open positions, and fifteen of them filled those positions here. Those fifteen additions to the crew manifests were crosschecked against arrival dates and financial records, and they all appear valid, starting over the last several weeks and stopping around the various departures.”