“Because there’s no market for it.”
She frowned. “A ship that can jump a million metric kilotons? There’s no market?”
“Where would they sail it? A ship like that would spend so much time maneuvering in the gravity wells that a standard Barbell could outperform it.”
The chief shook her head. “Nice try.”
Pip’s face clouded. “What do you mean?”
“I know who owns Port Lumineux,” she said. “The question is why do you want this ship so badly if it can’t jump?”
“To find out if Iron Mountain is using it as a staging area for raids around Toe-Hold space,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“Think about it. A ship that can handle the equivalent of five cans. It’s got power, life support, even docking capability. It’s a free-floating station.”
“Docking with it would be a pain,” I said.
“No worse than Odin’s Outpost,” Pip said. “Ever think of how difficult it would be for a clipper to dock there?”
I hadn’t, but I saw his point. With no system primary to provide the wind, sails were useless. Kickers burned fuel too fast to actually slow a clipper down enough to dock before the tanks dried up.
“What if it’s not in the Deep Dark?” the chief asked. “What if it’s in a system?”
“That would make it more likely that it’s still there, not less,” Pip said.
“How do you figure that?”
He ticked off points on his fingers. “It’s easier to dock with and maneuver around. It’s got some raw materials handy as long as there’s a gas giant and a supply of asteroids. It would make a great foundation for a station.”
“Why hasn’t Manchester stepped up?” I asked.
Pip looked at me. “Failed design? Stolen ship? I don’t know. They put a lot of time and effort into it and they haven’t done anything with the concepts.”
“What about the new Eighty-Eights?” the chief asked.
“What about them?” Pip asked. “Good ships. Diversified cargo.”
“They also have very long legs,” the chief said.
“Well, so do we and it’s still a pretty standard setup for a Barbell, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “I’ll concede that point, but that’s the first new design Manchester’s come out with in over a decade. Coincidence?”
Pip pursed his lips and frowned. “Possible. It’s also possible that Manchester discovered that their design didn’t work. That the Burlesons needed to push that big a mass were just not cost effective.”
“Or that they tended to blow up,” I said.
He nodded. “Or that. But if Manchester decided to cut their losses on the Mega project, it makes sense they’d pursue another—less radical—option.”
We sat there in silence for a few heartbeats. “Iron Mountain isn’t going to be pleased,” the chief said.
“If we find out what they’re doing?” I asked.
She nodded. “So, why are you so intent on finding it?” she asked, looking at Pip.
“It’s his mission,” I said.
Pip closed his eyes and hung his head forward as if I’d struck him.
The chief’s eyes popped open wide. “His mission?”
“Sure. It’s why Waters sent him out here.”
“Waters didn’t send him out here,” the chief said. “He just agreed not to arrest him if he tried.”
“Why would he arrest him?” I asked.
“Let’s just say Mr. Carstairs engages in some interesting trading activities that run counter to the CPJCT’s interests,” she said.
I felt my eyes narrow as I stared at Pip. “Do you?”
He shrugged and wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Might have carried a load or two that didn’t actually clear through CPJCT.” He shrugged. “Not much different from our old flea market operation.”
I felt bowled over. “A TIC agent smuggling?” I asked.
Pip’s head jerked up as he looked at me and then turned to the chief.
“A TIC agent?” she asked and then laughed. “He told you he was a TIC agent?”
Her question made me stop and think. Had he actually said it? “Not in so many words, no,” I said after some consideration. I looked at him. “Are you?”
He glanced at the chief and then back at the deck. “No.”
“Then what’s with Waters?” I asked.
Pip shifted in his chair but didn’t answer.
“You said TIC was sending one of their best agents out with us,” I said. “That’s not you?”
He didn’t look up when he shook his head. “I didn’t know who they’d send, but I know Waters and I knew he’d send somebody.”
“And did he?” I asked.
“Yeah. I think he did.” He looked at the chief. “Didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question.
The chief shook her head. “Not me. I’m not sure who he sent.”
“How do you know about Pip?” I asked.
“Oh, I’ve known about Pip for a long time,” she said. “You’re not the only cadet that got flagged at the academy. With his family ties, he’s been the topic of almost as many conversations as you have, Captain.” She shrugged.
“But we have a TIC agent on board?” I asked.
Pip shrugged and looked at the chief.
“I’ve no doubt of it. Probably more than one,” the chief said. “It’s not me.”
“But you know who it is?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I have some suspicions but nothing definite.”
I looked back and forth between them for a few heartbeats. “Now what?” I asked.
The chief crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She frowned for a moment and shook her head. “We’re playing with fire here.” She looked at Pip. “You’re the CEO but he’s the captain. You want my advice, you’ll stop lying, if you can. He needs to know what’s going on without all the embellishment and without leaving things out.”
I found myself being pulled in two directions. One, she was saying things that should have come from me. Two, I hadn’t done it.
Pip squirmed in his seat a bit but nodded. “You’re right, of course, Chief.” He looked at me. “Sorry, Ishmael.”
“Can you stop?” I asked.
“Can I stop what? Lying?” His head twitched a little to one side.
“Yeah. You lie as easily as you breathe. Can you stop?”
His face got red. I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped in mid-breath and closed it again. He glanced at the chief and then back at me. “I don’t know,” he said. “I can try.”
“All right. Let’s see.” I grinned at him. “How can you function after drinking that much Clipper Ship Lager?”
He shot me an impish grin and I prepared myself for disappointment. “I can’t,” he said. “I don’t.”
“Then where did all the empties come from?” I asked.
“I bought empties to fill your trunk with.”
“You did what?” the chief asked.
“I had a second grav trunk that I filled with Clipper Ship before we left Port Newmar,” I said. “When we came aboard in Breakall, I discovered that all the beer was gone but he’d filled the trunk with empties. What I don’t understand is why?”
“To make people underestimate me. If they think I’m drunk, they’ll either ignore me or discount me. It works really well when you tell them about how much I drink.”
His answer stunned me. “Why?”
“Easier if they don’t pay much attention to me.”
I shared a glance with the chief who shrugged.
“Is that why you bleach your hair?” she asked. “To make people think you’re old and feeble?”
His eyes widened for a moment before he spoke. “I don’t—”
“The chemicals show up in the environmental logs,” the chief said.”
He sighed. “I got tired of people making assumption
s about my temper because of my hair color. It’s easier this way.”
I saw the tension in the chief’s face ease and she sat back in her chair once more.
Pip looked at the chief, then at me. “Are we done here?”
I shrugged and the chief nodded.
“I’ll go see if any of these unknown locations line up,” he said. He stopped at the door without looking back. “Sorry,” he said, and left, closing the door behind him.
I looked at the chief. “Now for me?”
She shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“What do you think I should be doing?” I asked.
“You could stop lying to yourself,” she said. “It would be a start.”
I sagged back in my chair. “Am I?”
She shrugged again. “Why did you let him lead you around? You knew he was lying.”
I took a deep breath and thought about it, my gaze fixed somewhere near the door, not looking at her. “I don’t know,” I said after a few heartbeats.
“Don’t you?”
I thought about it some more. Did I know? “It’s hard to judge from the inside,” I said. “Too easy to pick a pat answer and roll it out. It was easier to let him lead since he knew the neighborhood. This Toe-Hold space is so completely foreign, I don’t know where to step.”
A gentle smile curled her lips. “It’s less foreign than you think.”
“There are whole cultures out there that I could step in and put the ship in danger,” I said.
Her head rocked back and forth a couple of times. “Yeah, there are whole cultures out there.” She paused and shook her head. “There’s a culture in here, too.”
I stopped for a dozen heartbeats to consider her words. “And I’m still not paying attention to the culture in here?”
Her eyebrows did a little upsy-daisy on her forehead. “I didn’t say that. I’ve been so busy writing I haven’t paid that much attention myself for the last few weeks.”
“The new edition?” I asked.
She nodded. “It can be all consuming, which is why I don’t revise frequently. There are those who spend their lives on revisions, even when they have nothing new to say.” She smiled at me. “But you’re ducking the question.”
“Which question?”
“Why did you let him lead you around?”
“I wasn’t paying attention,” I said.
She shook her head. “Probably, but that’s not the reason.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I met you before. Back on Port Newmar.”
“I remember, but I’ve changed a lot.”
She smiled and shrugged again before standing up. “I met you right after, too,” she said. “You haven’t changed that much.”
She started for the door.
“That’s it?” I asked. “You’re just gonna stick that out there and leave me with it?” I almost laughed at the absurdity—or perhaps it was nervousness.
She stopped halfway out. “No,” she said. “I’ll leave you with this. What would Fredi do?”
The door closed behind her with a quiet click, but I barely heard it over the echoes in my head. What would Fredi do? I leaned back in my chair, stared at the blue overhead, and pondered.
Chapter 24
Dark Knight Station: 2375, May 17
If Mel’s Place was a bright bustling city, Dark Knight Station was one large factory in space. The station itself lay out on the edge of the system. A gas giant lay on the far side of the primary and the largest solar array I’d ever seen hung above the tangle of galleries, constructions, and left over bits of ships, tanks, and shipping containers. I wasn’t sure how much power it generated, but perhaps the materials were cheap here.
Also like Mel’s Place, they relied on voice communications to establish our approach and docking. It all seemed to work well, and we’d docked just before lunch mess. As before, Pip and I met with station officials, but we’d cleared visas for the crew on approach so our meeting was simply a pro forma exercise.
After lunch, I found myself back in the cabin, chasing my demons around in my head and asking “what would Fredi do?”
We had the basics covered. The ship was operating at CPJCT levels of expertise with all the crew, ratings, and experience necessary to keep the ship sailing safely. We had plenty of provisions and fuel. We still had months’ worth of spares.
Pip opened the door and stuck his head through. “Got a minute?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
He took his customary seat. He’d been subdued since our conversation with the chief. Nothing like being reamed out by an expert to convince you to pull in your wings a bit.
“I ran some plots against the navigation data. I got Tom to help,” he said. “About half of the positions are on a straight line between two known stations.”
“That leaves what? Five hundred?”
He grinned. “About that. More than we can search.”
“So, what’s next?”
“I’m heading up to the chandlery to see Inky. Wanna come along?”
“You going alone?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Unless you want to come with me.”
“Civvies?”
“I was just about to change. Nobody wears undress in Toe-Hold space.”
“What’s the dress code here?”
“Same as Mel’s. Most places are the same. Comfy and colorful, as a rule.”
“Gimme a couple ticks,” I said.
He nodded and left me to rummage in my grav trunks. I didn’t have a lot of colorful clothes, but I had some comfy jeans, a dark pullover, and my favorite ship boots. I probably wouldn’t win any prizes for best costume, but I’d be comfortable.
I stepped out of the cabin in time to meet Pip coming along from his stateroom dressed in dark slacks under a scarlet tunic with gold piping down the sleeves, and highly polished boots with pointy toes. “That’s comfy?” I asked, taking in the outfit.
“It is surprisingly comfy,” he said. “And colorful.”
Chief Stevens strolled up to us wearing some kind of flowing pantsuit outfit in a jewel green with black frogs toggled down the front. “Good, you’re ready,” she said. She eyed me up and down and shrugged. “Maybe we can take you shopping while we’re here.”
I looked at Pip.
He shrugged. “She asked if she could go with us.”
“No complaints here,” I said. “I just wish I’d known how colorful you meant.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Nobody will look at you twice.”
I wasn’t so sure but followed the chief down the ladder and off the ship.
The docking gallery felt huge, but like Mel’s Place, also felt warm and slightly humid. I caught a whiff of something like exhaust—or maybe fried food. I couldn’t tell. The place swarmed with people.
Pip and the chief blended in with the crowd, their outfits not standing out as particularly bright or gaudy. A few of the passersby had more outlandish outfits than the chief and Pip, but many more simply showed a flash of color in the form of a neckerchief or shirt. I felt like a crow in the company of peacocks.
Pip led the way along the docking gallery to a wide, open bay with a long counter across the back. The scents of soap, lubricants, and too many bodies wafted out into the area. I glanced up to see “CHANDLERY” spelled out in two-meter-tall fluorescent yellow letters. The level of traffic in and out made me blink.
Chief Stevens caught my eye and grinned. “A little busier than you’re used to?”
“Feels like an ant hill in here,” I said.
Pip faded to his left and led us along the bulkhead to a simple wooden door. A couple of beefy types watched us with flat eyes but didn’t prevent Pip from opening the door and ducking into the narrow passage beyond.
Grit scraped under the soles of my boots but the passage seemed to be well maintained. Fixtures along the overhead cast enough bluish light to see by. Every once in a while I heard voices behind the bulkheads, but t
hey were quiet and indistinct. A low, chest-rattling hum came from somewhere off to the right. I was about to ask Pip if he knew where he was going when he stopped in front of an elaborately decorated door. He tilted his head a bit and studied the door for a moment before pushing it open. We followed him in.
The dim lighting highlighted the artwork along the bulkheads. An orrery with twelve planets on silvery wires and a roiling red primary at the center hung from the center of the overhead. A narrow-shouldered man wearing high-heeled boots, blue jeans, and a leather jacket over a ruby red shirt stepped back from the counter and nodded to us as he left.
The clerk straightened up from behind the counter and looked at each of us. Her mouth opened and her eyes widened when she looked at the chief. “Maggie?”
The chief smiled and reached both hands across the counter. “Hello, Inge. How are you?”
The woman took the chief’s hands and they leaned together to kiss cheeks over the counter. “I’m well. You?”
The chief grinned and shrugged a shoulder. “I could complain, but at least I’m between husbands.”
Inge laughed—a light, bubbling trill. “Someday, Maggie. Someday.”
The chief shrugged. “Might happen. I’m not holding my breath.”
Inge turned her gaze on me and I realized that what I’d taken for a pale shirt embroidered with colorful patterns was, in fact, her skin covered with fantastic tattoos. She wore a simple halter top that exposed most of her upper torso. I had to force myself to stop staring at her ink and look her in the eyes. She smiled and held out a hand. “Inge Sonjasdotttir,” she said.
I shook her hand. “Ishmael Wang.”
“Pleased to meet you, Captain Wang.” She held out a hand to Pip. “Hello, Phillip.”
He shook the offered hand with a glance at the chief and me. “Hello, Inge.”
“How can I help you today?” she asked, looking at each of us in turn.
“I need an updated astrogation loader,” Pip said.
“Anything in particular?” she asked.
“We’ve got a lot of unidentified jumps in our astrogation database,” Pip said. “I’m hoping an update will tell me what they are.”
She reached under the counter, pulled out a thumb drive, and skittered it across the counter toward Pip. “Latest identified jumps and stations as of last week.”
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