“Do you know how to use it?” Sean asked.
“I do.” He led one out and over to the pallet, where Janice watched with some anxiety as Dave lifted one case off the pallet, and placed it on the trolley.
“You take this one to the new Music Room, Wen, and then come back for the other. Take Carly with you. Between the pair of you, you should be able to unship it. Then come back for the second one.”
Wen obediently took the trolley, and followed Carly through the halls. “Sure you don’t want to take this,” he asked as he went around a corner too sharply, and didn’t make it.
“You have to learn sometime, Fly-boy. You’d think a pilot would know how to turn a corner,” Carly replied, laughing at him as he backed and filled until he had enough room to make the turn. He didn’t appreciate the laugh. He had never laughed at prospective pilots who had made errors on sims.
“But with my equipment?” Janice asked, following behind.
“Don’t worry. It’s as snug as can be,” Carly assured her. “Yrdens don’t pack anything in a slipshod manner.”
Janice still fretted all the way to her Music Room. There, Carly helped him remove the case from the trolley, which graciously lowered one side to allow them to slide it off.
“I’ll stay here, and check everything out,” Janice said.
Carly handed her the manifest. “Sign as received, unless you find something missing or damaged. Then make an annotation. Come-on, Fly-boy, let’s go get the lady’s other case.”
Halfway back, Wen stopped.
“Problem?” Carly asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Is there? Have I insulted you somehow, stepped on your cat’s tail, kicked your dog?”
“Pardon?”
“What’s with the ‘Fly-boy’ cracks?”
“They piss you off?” she asked, tone very insulting.
“A little.”
“Enough to make you quit? To get you out of our cargo holds?”
Did they resent him that much? Well, fine. But he’d leave when he decided to, not before. He’d leave when he had the knowledge and experience to defend his own ship as best he could with whatever unorthodox weapons he could make ready.
“Everyone else want me gone, too?” He felt anger building. Family ventures. And here he stood, an outsider. “Does my training somehow cost you money?”
“No. Just me, today. And yes. Gonna quit?” She glared at him.
He glared right back. “Not today.”
She sighed, and then lost her glare and laughed. “Ah, well. It was worth a try. Come-on, Wen, let’s get the rest of the lady’s gear before Dave sends the hounds to find out what happened to us.”
Wen blinked. Her animosity had disappeared as if it had never been. She gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking away. He moved quickly to catch up.
“Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“I shouldn’t, but hell, why not? We have a little pool going.”
“Pool? We?”
“Cargo Handlers. Pilots don’t like to get their hands dirty. We were wondering how long you’d last. I picked by the end of today. If you’re not going to quit today, you just cost me money. After today, I’ll be as friendly as you like.” She looked up at him. “Maybe friendlier.”
He choked back a laugh. “Well, Carly, I hate to disappoint you – or to cost you money. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll pay for your ticket.”
“No need. I don’t welch on my bets. What’s your story? We all know you flew for Amalgamated – and we’re not supposed to talk about it. We all know that the Families don’t hire Amalgamated pilots. Yet here you are. You got something on the Yrdens?”
Wen laughed bitterly. “You want to win the pool? Pick a new number?”
She glanced over to him. “What number should I pick?”
“One year.”
Her eyebrows went up. “One year?”
“One year from the date I signed on. That’s how long I have to stay here. Amalgamated sold my contract to the Yrdens for one year. Then I can leave – and I’ll leave so fast it will make your head swim. I leave before then, I get blacklisted.”
She stopped. “You hate us that much?”
He should have kept his mouth shut. He’d already said much too much. Taking a deep breath, he looked straight at her. “I don’t hate you at all, Carly. Actually, I like you. I don’t hate anyone else on this ship, though Captain Yrden has pushed enough buttons to have her on my unfavourites list.”
“Then why?” He could see she really wanted to understand.
“Because you’re right. Pilots don’t like to get their hands dirty in Cargo. I’m a starship pilot. As long as I work here, I’ll never see a ship’s bridge. They’ll use me to fly their shuttles, their workboats – and have me do anything else they can get me to do that won’t see me on a bridge. But I’ll never jump a ship into hyperspace, never dock a ship as long as I’m on board Venture, or any other Family ship.
“Here, I’m badgered into giving guitar lessons, threatened with washing lavatories if I don’t – or worse.”
“Or worse?”
“They’ll fire me. And then Amalgamated will blacklist me, and I’ll never see space again.”
She stood there staring at him, mouth open. She closed it.
“And so,” she concluded, “as soon as your term is up, you’ll jump ship.”
“Precisely. So, pick one year, and you’ll make your money.”
Carly searched his face. “You’re telling the truth.” She looked bewildered. “I don’t understand. And I can’t believe some of it. Captain Betts isn’t like that. She wouldn’t force you into Cargo as a punishment, even if she disliked you. She’s just not like that.”
He held up both hands. “No, no. I can’t lay that at her feet; she didn’t send me to Cargo. That’s my own choice. I have my own reasons – and I’m doing it for me, not for her, not for the ship, not for the Family.”
“Care to tell me why?”
“I can’t. And I’ve said far too much already. If I hadn’t noticed that you don’t engage in gossip, I’d never have told you.” He cursed himself. “I shouldn’t have told you anyway. Please don’t tell anyone else anything what I’ve said.”
“Let’s get back to work, Fly-boy,” she told him, but this time, she said it with full humour, and he could laugh.
Janice Korbin wasn’t laughing, however, when they returned with the second load. She looked stunned.
“Problem?” Carly asked as she and Wen unloaded the second case from the trolley.
Wen hoped that no damage had occurred to her goods, either before or in transit. He looked around, not seeing any evidence of damage. Perhaps the shipper had sent someone else’s goods?
“Problem?” Janice shook her head, but neither of the other two could make head nor tails of the meaning.
“Damage?” Carly asked.
“Goods missing?” Wen asked.
“Huh? No.”
“Second rate?” guessed Wen.
Janice looked up. “No. Superlative.”
He looked at Carly, and she looked back.
Carly shrugged her shoulders. “And you’re upset because...?”
“Upset?” The laughter bordered on hysterical. “Upset. No, I’m in heaven. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” She indicated some mysterious piece of equipment that Wen couldn’t identify. “This is a Munslen.”
Carly still hadn’t twigged, but enlightenment came Wen’s way. He’d had a similar moment.
Wen explained, “Captain Yrden offered me a guitar, and when I opened the case, I found an Ellery Flon.”
“Ooo-kay.”
He tried again. “It’s like going into some dirty little restaurant on the corner of Nowhere and Nothing, and finding Aunt Sophie cooking there.”
Carly’s face lit. “Ah! I understand.” She looked around. “I’ll take back the cases. Wen will stay with you, and help set everything up where you want it. La
ter, we’ll come back and fasten it all down.”
“Fasten it down?” Janice asked.
“You tell her,” Carly said as she exited the room.
“You’re on a spaceship with artificial gravity. If the grav-gens pack up, everything becomes weightless. If we then move, accelerate – spaceships tend to do that – everything not tied down gets smashed into the walls.”
With eyes wide, Janice licked her lips. “We can’t have that. We must protect everything.”
Wen bowed his head. “And that’s precisely what we shall do. They asked you to draw up a floor plan, right? I see they have already installed the workbenches. Are they where you want them?”
“Yes. Right.” She started coming out of her daze.
“Same goes for equipment on workbenches – it all gets fastened in place. If you have to unfasten it to use it, fine, just remember to fasten it again before you quit. Trust me, forget once at the wrong time, and you’ll never forget again.”
He opened a drawer and a storage cupboard. “Netting,” he showed her. “You’ll find it a pain, but you’ll get used to it after a while.”
“I see.”
“Deckplan?”
“I have it on my reader.”
“Good. Well, we’ll just move things to their proper location, and then get them snugged down. Everything made these days has clamp holds. For use in zero-g environments.” He indicated an indentation near the base of the Munslen.
“Oh. I wondered what those were for. Same on my stuff back on Earth.”
“And both the deck and workbench have many places where we might affix clamps. So, we organize, the cargo people come and bolt everything down, and you don’t have to worry about it again. And, if you should find the set-up needs re-arranging, then we can do that, as well, no problem.”
Two hours later, the cargo team showed up, and Wen left behind him a very happy woman.
* * *
Wen sat in his quarters – quite magnificent quarters compared to those he’d had on Amalgamated 684. Here, he had an actual suite – a common room, a small bedroom, a washroom, and even a guest-room, though that one more resembled his quarters on the Amalgamated ship.
William had explained when he had remarked on the difference between the quarters on the passenger deck and the crew quarters, “Crew quarters are home. We live on this ship. Some of the crew are married and have children. The ‘guest quarters’ can accommodate bunkbeds for two or even three children. It’s all well and good to have common meeting areas, like the various lounges and library reading rooms, but you want to be able to relax with your partner and children, too – not in public, and not always in your bedroom. Some crew even hire a courtesan. The courtesan usually gets the ‘guest room’.”
And that had surprised him.
“Crew make enough for that?”
“Well, yes. Of course, part of a courtesan’s pay is room and board – which the ship gives at cost. They also get the opportunity to travel to – and go down to visit – various planets, as time and space allows. We give that free.”
And that reminded him of something he’d heard years ago. “Rumour has it that Jaswinder Saroya first came up as a courtesan, and married Johannes Yrden later.”
William made a non-committal motion. “I don’t discuss personal lives of Family or crew. If you want to confirm or quash a rumour, go to the source. Ask Ms Yrden next time you see her.”
With most people, saying something like that would be confirmation in itself; had the rumour no basis in fact, most would just dismiss it out of hand. But with William, Wen believed he said exactly what he meant, and that he, Wen, would have received the same answer no matter the veracity of the rumour. On the other hand, William had mentioned Saroya’s problems with getting used to ship-life to him – and the fact that she had had problems with dreams.
Dressed in a bathrobe, after a shower to wash the sweat from his body caused by manhandling heavy cargo, Wen opened a closet, and pulled out his guitar case. He lovingly stroked it before opening it, and pulling his guitar from the soft lining.
Sitting on his chair, he began to strum an old ballad he’d learned many years ago. Soon he began to softly sing the chorus. A tear came to the corner of his eye.
The door chimed. Now what?
Carly stood there, hands behind her back. “You didn’t quit, did you?”
He shook his head.
“You cost me money. You owe me.”
He couldn’t see how that figured. He didn’t ask her to bet on him failing. “I offered to compensate you the price of your ticket.”
“Not enough. I lost the price of twenty tickets.”
He shook his head. “I’m not paying you that.”
She motioned with her head, “Then let me in, and we’ll discuss it.”
Wondering where she led to, he stepped aside. Her hands came from behind her back, and he saw that she had brought a small bottle of wine and a pair of goblets. He looked pointedly at them, and raised his eyebrows.
“It’s tomorrow. I told you I’d be friendlier tomorrow.” She sat down and uncapped the wine. “German, from the Mosel,” she said, and the golden liquid flowed into the goblets. “Very nice.” She took a sip, then held up the second goblet. “I know you drink. Came on board as drunk as a skunk.”
“Skunks get drunk?”
She chuckled. “I wouldn’t know. I never met one.”
He glanced down at his robe and the bare legs protruding from it.
“I’m not feeling very comfortable,” he told her.
She followed his example, and looked him up and down. “So, go put on some more clothes.” She paused a moment. “Or I can take some off.”
Understanding came like a lightning bolt. Did he want her to take some off? Sadly, his answer came back in the negative. “I’ll put something on.”
In his bedroom, he dressed, wondering how to let her down gently. He didn’t want this, didn’t want anything getting between him and his memories of Lil.
“Look, I ...” he began, then went silent as she put her finger to her lips, and handed him his goblet.
“I’m not asking for commitment, Wen. Just some companionship.” She pointed to the bedroom door. “And it doesn’t have to be in there. Sit. Tell me a story.”
“A story?”
“That’s what people do, Wen. They tell stories. This ship? Well, we don’t have a lot of turnover. So, we’ve all heard each other’s stories. We pretend that we haven’t when they bring them up anew, but we’ve heard them all. Your stories – no one here has heard them.”
He didn’t want to give anything of himself. A prison ship, he considered Venture. Something to endure, not become a part of.
“Try Angela,” he suggested, taking his seat, leaning back, wondering how to politely get rid of someone who didn’t want to go. “Surely she has some new stories for you.”
Carly laughed. “She’s told a few. Want to know the connecting thread through all of them.”
Wen didn’t care.
“You.”
He jerked upright from his slouch. “I didn’t touch her!”
Gods! If Jaswinder and Shiro had started that rumour because they’d found her drugged and with no clothes on, he’d ... he’d do nothing. Trapped.
“No, we all know that. She wants you to, though.” Carly tilted her head to the side, and studied him. “‘The nicest man on Amalgamated 684’, and even though she paraded around naked for you, you didn’t touch her.”
“I’m old enough to be her father, for crying out loud. I don’t rob the cradle.”
Carly shrugged, and took a sip of wine. “She’s twenty-two. Hardly the cradle.”
“And I’m forty-one.” He took a slug of wine more for something to occupy his hands, than anything else, then choked as Carly continued.
“And she’s a virgin.”
The wine goblet hit the table with a dull thunk. He covered his eyes with his right hand, thumb rubbing at his temple.
“She did. Quite open about it.” Carly’s voice changed pitch. “She lying?”
“How the hell should I know?” But it made a certain sense. Her fixation on him hadn’t shown itself as anything but innocent – or perhaps naïve.
“So, why wouldn’t the nicest man on Amalgamated 684 do her the honour of being first?”
“Lots on nice men on Venture,” he said, assuming there were at least some.
“And some of them would love to have that honour. But now she wants the nicest man on Venture. You.”
Just go.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been the nicest man anywhere.” He picked up the goblet, and took a slug of the very good wine, hardly tasting it as it went down.
She leaned back on the small couch, and waved his objection aside with her hand. “You haven’t yet thrown me out for my impertinence.”
“You mistake polite for nice, perhaps. I grew up in one of the Canadian states.”
Carly almost doubled over laughing. “That old stereotype?” She controlled herself. “Well, now, at least we know that you have a sense of humour.”
“Is that what this is? An interrogation, ferreting out my secrets to feed the gossip mills?” He said it in an even tone, but felt his anger starting to rise.
She kicked her shoes off, and put her feet up on the couch, her back against the bulkhead. “Well, we’ve all wondered what she could see in you. You don’t come off as particularly nice – except at times. Like when you’re interacting with Sean. You want to know what he says?”
“Not particularly. And I’d appreciate it if you – all of you – would avoid involving him in your little games. Using him to spy on me? That’s not nice. He doesn’t deserve to be used.”
“That’s not how it is. He just came out and said something that took us all aback.” She fluffed out her hair, and leaned her head back against the bulkhead. “Why haven’t you kicked me out yet?”
“Is that what you want? Testing to see how much I’ll take before I lose my temper? That something you all decided on? Test my limits, and they picked you to try me out?”
Not With A Whimper: Survivors Page 17