I didn’t pause to admire it, but rather did it nine more times, stacking the empties on the counter until I had enough. They were easy enough to gather up and lay out for the assembly line to fill. While they finished the sandwiches, I added fruit, candy bar, and a few hard candies to each box. I pulled a twelve pack of water from the bottom of the ready cooler and put one of those in each box as well, cracking the lid off the eleventh and downing it myself in almost one go.
By then the sandwiches were ready and we started the final packing.
Mr. Pall looked at the line up curiously. “Why ten, Captain? There’s only eight of us.”
“Spoilage, Mr. Pall.”
“Spoilage, Captain?”
“Pirates, Mr. Pall.”
“Ahhh. I see, Captain. Yes, of course.”
I stood looking at the boxes and I knew I was forgetting something. It came to me very suddenly. “Ms. Thomas.” I said it aloud.
Mr. Wyatt looked to see if she were coming, but Mr. Pall looked at me. “Sar?”
“Ms. Thomas, William. She’s a heavy worlder. We can’t feed her this. It’s not enough.”
They looked startled.
Mr. Wyatt twigged first but Mr. Pall didn’t need further explanation.
Mr. Wyatt asked, “Do we give her two, Skipper?”
“How would that make you feel, Avery?”
“You’re making a lot of good points this morning, Captain.”
“Thanks. I’m trying to make up for missing a few easy ones this morning. Make about three extra sandwiches. Put them in one of the boxes and mark the box. Put in an extra bar of chocolate, too.”
“Extra water, Captain?”
I thought about it and shook my head. “Won’t be room and we’ll all need extra water so maybe I can ask you to ferry a cold twelver up to the bridge when we need it.” I looked at Mr. Wyatt.
“Of course, Captain. Mr. Ricks will be here with me. He has the forward lock duty. I’m sure he’ll help.”
I nodded. “Good thinking, Mr. Wyatt.”
We set to with the final details, Avery packing the bagged sandwiches, William closing up the finished boxes, and stacking them in the ready cooler. I showed him Cookie’s old trick of using sheet cake pans as trays. He made up two trays of five and we made sure to put the marked box on the front so they’d take the right tray to the bridge.
The sudden lull took me by surprise.
If my limited experience aboard had taught me anything, though, it was that it was probably just the calm before the real storm.
The chrono clicked over to 1130 and I tried to focus.
“Avery? Soup time. William, I’ve got fitters coming at 1300. The mess deck needs to be clear by then. They promised me they’ll be secured by 1400.”
“Yo ho ho, Skipper. I remember.”
I grinned. “Arrgh. Good lad.”
Mr. Wyatt looked a bit startled. He didn’t say anything but turned to warming a pot of soup. I was delighted to see that he’d snagged a pack of ready-bake rolls from the freezer and he snapped them into the baking oven and set the timer.
I grabbed my empty mug and headed for the coffee pot for a refill. “Carry on, gentlemen. I must off to battle the bane of every captain’s existence. Reports.”
Mr. Wyatt made a warding sign with his free hand and Mr. Pall had the decency to laugh.
I sipped the coffee and remembered one more detail. “Oh, Mr. Wyatt?”
He looked up from the soup. “Yes, Skipper?”
“Next pot of coffee? Make the grind about 20 percent finer, add about half again the amount of coffee to the basket, and use cold water.”
“Plus 20, plus 50, and cold as I got, Skipper. Aye, aye.”
As I climbed the ladder to officer country, I heard Mr. Pall volunteer to make a pot using the new formula.
Billy the Buccaneer or not, I was impressed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Diurnia Orbital:
2372-January-11
Charlie was as good as his word and showed up at the lock with his crew promptly at 1300. Mr. Wyatt had the galley spaces cleared and secured for them and Mr. Pall pinged me at 1350 to let me know the work had been completed.
I came down from the cabin to find the new table in place and gleaming. Charlie’s work gang was policing the area for loose bits and tools. Charlie himself beamed with pride.
“Told ya, Captain. We beat your time.” He turned to look at the table. “Is this what you wanted?”
“It is what I wanted and more, Charlie. My compliments to you and your crew. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Captain. We’ll just clear this away and get outa here. I think you might have things to do and places to go today?”
“We do, Charlie. We do, indeed.”
I thumbed the offered work order and he shepherded his gang off the ship, taking the leftovers, spare parts, and trash with him.
The new table was the perfect fit for the two deck mounting flanges. Each flange held one of the two sturdy legs of the single, long table. A bench ran down the length of each side. The whole assembly bore a striking resemblance to the picnic tables I’d grown up around on Neris. It also matched my fond memory of the table aboard the Bad Penny. It was exactly what I wanted.
Mr. Pall stood to the side looking the table up and down. Mr. Wyatt leaned against the sink with his arms folded across his chest and an amused expression on his face as he looked from me to the table and back.
“What do you think, Mr. Pall?” I asked.
He glanced up at me. “Fine piece of workmanship, Skipper.”
“As nicely phrased a non-answer as I’ve heard, Mr. Pall.”
“Thank you, Captain. I’ve been practicing.”
“Mr. Wyatt?”
“It takes a little getting used to, Captain.”
I nodded an agreement to that.
I heard Chief Gerheart come up behind me. “Oh, good. They got it in.” She looked up at me with the little girl face. “Did you know this is the original configuration, Captain?”
“Chief?”
She turned back to the table and waved her arm. “This is how she’s s’posed to be, Captain. The original plans show one table on the two flanges.”
“I didn’t know that, Chief. Good piece of information.”
“Kinda makes ya wonder why they changed it, don’t it, Captain?” It was the little girl voice, but the question struck a lot deeper.
“Yes, Chief, it does.”
We admired for a couple heartbeats before I roused myself to focus.
“As nice as it looks, people, we got cargo to haul. Mr. Wyatt? Where are my cans?”
“Latched and locked, Captain. They came up last night about 2000.”
“Excellent, Mr. Wyatt. Mr. Pall? Where is my crew?”
“Crew present or accounted for, Captain.”
“Chief, ship ready for space?”
“She is, Captain.”
I stuck my head out into the passage. “Mr. Ricks? Secure the lock for departure, if you would, please?”
“Aye, aye, Skipper. Lock secured for departure.” His voice echoed down the passage from the bow.
“Thank you, Mr. Ricks.”
I turned back into the galley and crossed to the urns. I pulled a fresh cup from the new urn and tried it. “You made this pot, Mr. Pall?”
“Yes, Captain. Followed your suggestions.”
“Did you taste it, Mr. Pall?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“And what did you think of it, Mr. Pall?”
“Arrgh, Captain. Now that’s a cuppa coffee.” He was grinning.
“I think so, too, Mr. Pall. Nicely done. And thank you, Mr. Wyatt, for your able assistance here.”
Mr. Wyatt smiled. “Most welcome, Captain.”
Chief Gerheart checked the installation job one last time.
“Does it pass inspection, Chief?”
The little girl smiled up at me and nodded shyly.
“Excellent, well, we ha
ve a stan or so before we call navigation stations. OD, if you’d rouse the crew and give them a chance to refresh themselves? I’ll knock on Ms. Thomas’s door on my way up to the bridge.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
I headed out of the galley and took a side trip to the ready cooler. I snagged one of the extra bento boxes from the offside tray and tucked it under my arm.
“Expecting pirates, Captain?” Mr. Pall smiled at me.
“Better safe than sorry, Mr. Pall.”
“Good planning, Skipper.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pall.”
I scampered up to officer country and stopped to knock on the first mate’s door. “Room service.”
Three heartbeats later, a slightly disheveled Ms. Thomas opened the door, and I offered the boxed lunch. “A little something to tide you over till dinner, Ms. Thomas. You missed lunch.”
She took it with an oddly shy smile and a nod of thanks. “Much obliged, Captain.”
“You’re quite welcome, Ms. Thomas. If you’d join me on the bridge, we’ll set nav detail at 1445.”
I headed up one more ladder to the bridge and took a few ticks to savor the moment. Strictly speaking, I should have been the last one entering the bridge and the first one off. A captain with more experience would trust his crew to prep the ship while he continued on with his august duties safely ensconced in the sanctity of the cabin. I wasn’t that experienced yet, and while I certainly didn’t want to make the crew feel like I didn’t trust them, there’s such a thing as being too certain of an unknown command.
Besides, this was just too darn much fun.
I took a tick to look aft to check out where the cans attached. Each cylindrical can was rated at fifteen metric kilotons. The tractor could carry up to three of them strung together like beads. Each can had a central locking shaft that was hoop on one end and hook on the other. The hook on one can latched onto the hoop on the next. A special terminal fitting went into the final hook out there at the far stern, and gave us an anchor on the end so the cans couldn’t slide off. The Agamemnon’s cargo latch fitted into the hoop on the closest can. Each can had pads and buffer latches at three corresponding locations so that, with the cargo latch engaged, the cans locked snuggly against each other and the ship. Not a terribly pleasing design to look at, but the functionality was undeniable.
Ms. Thomas was first up the ladder at 1435 and we were joined shortly by Mr. Pall who took the systems and astrogation console, Chief Gerheart sat at engineering, and Mr. Schubert assumed the helm. I sensed the party was about to start so I took my seat in the captain’s chair for the very first time. There was a handy cup holder on the right side and I slotted my half empty mug into it. An air of expectancy permeated the bridge. I’d felt it on every pull out since that very first time on the Lois McKendrick. I tried to channel Alys Gigone as I gave a little nod to Ms. Thomas. She used the toggle on the duty watchstation to activate the squawk box and made the announcement.
Down in the ship, I knew Mr. Ricks should be taking his position on the forward latches in case of emergency. Mr. Hill was standing by the console down in Engineering. He was just the local set of olfactory sensors with orders to report anything that didn’t look or, especially, smell right. Quite often the odor was the early warning clue, not the look. Hot metal doesn’t look very different until it’s very hot, but it smells different almost right away. Chief Gerheart would be going below as soon as we were on ballistic and would be present to fire up the grav keel and sails herself. Mr. Wyatt’s role was supercargo, and he stood by in the galley, just in case.
Around 1450 the tug scooted into view around the curve of the orbital and eased in close to lock onto us. They were so close I could see into their bridge and watched the flickering lights of their maneuvering thrusters over my shoulder. The tug would be our temporary engine and pilot to get us out of the orbital’s local space and kick us out into the Deep Dark.
I could see the astrogation station updating the ships systems as the two hulls, in effect, merged into one vessel. The data streams merged and stabilized.
Mr. Pall turned to me. “Tug’s locked in, Captain, and is ready to assist us.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pall. Make ready for pull out, Ms. Thomas.”
“Making ready for pull out, aye, Captain.” She pressed a few keys on her console, and I saw the telltales shift from red to amber to green. “Locks are secured, docking clamp interlocks are offline, Captain. Ship’s board is green once.” Her voice was as loud as ever but it sounded like magic to me.
“Thank you, Ms. Thomas. Is astrogation ready, Mr. Pall?”
He reviewed his screen, formally running his finger down a long list of green indicators. At the end he nodded as if to himself. “Astrogation online and running stable, Captain. Board is green twice.”
“Systems status when you’re able, Mr. Pall. Cross check and verify, Ms. Thomas.”
She stepped over behind Mr. Pall and watched as he pulled over the systems and communications screens. “Systems are online and running Captain. Ship’s board is green thrice.”
Ms. Thomas returned to her position and pulled up both astrogation and systems displays. “Cross checked and verified, Captain.”
“Ms. Thomas, are we ready?”
“All ship’s boards are green. We show ready for departure on your command, Captain.”
“Pull out in ten on my mark, Ms. Thomas.” I didn’t pause very long in real time, I don’t think, but the realization hit me in that very moment that I would be in command of a ship free in space–my ship in any way that mattered until I returned to dock–for the first time in my life ten seconds after I uttered the very next word. I don’t know what I felt, exactly. It was some combination of jubilation, dread, confidence, and terror. It exploded across my whole body.
“Mark.”
There was a certain inevitability to it. The decisions had been made, the die cast. We needed to wait out the roll to see how well we’d done.
I felt the familiar clunk as the docking clamps released and the moving lift feeling for just a few heartbeats before the inertial dampeners kicked in.
“Log departure 2873-January-11, 1459, Mr. Pall.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
The tug pulled us free and within half a stan we sailed well away from the confusion of shuttles, cargo, and ship traffic. The tug spun us about, turning toward the Deep Dark, and ratcheted up the pusher to give us a good toss outward. We slowly gained velocity relative to the gravity well and soon left the most heavily trafficked areas behind.
At 1745 the tug signaled that he was ready to drop off. “My compliments to the skipper for the smooth ride and fine service, Mr. Pall.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” There was a short pause. “Tug sends, ’Safe voyage. Next beer’s on you,’ Captain.”
Everybody on the bridge chuckled. “Acknowledge, Mr. Pall.”
“Acknowledged, Skipper.”
We still had a way to go before we could open our sails safely, but the tug cut us loose and left us coasting along like a rock from a slingshot.
At 1800, Mr. Wyatt brought up the tray of boxes and Mr. Ricks carried a spare rack of water. There wasn’t a lot of activity on the bridge as we monitored systems and made sure we were on track, so he had no trouble slipping on to the bridge and leaving a box on each console. He handed me one with a smile and slipped back off the bridge without a ripple.
As the bridge crew opened and examined the boxes, I caught Ms. Thomas out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look at her. She nodded once and mouthed the words, “Thank you, Captain,” before pulling another sandwich out of the box beside her.
I just smiled, winked, and dug into my own. The sandwiches had gotten a little dry, but the fruit was good. I set the candy aside for later. I wasn’t much of a chocolate eater myself, but perhaps it would come in handy before we secured.
Around 1830 we finished up with dinner and Mr. Pall nodded to Chief Gerheart. “Captain, we’ll reach the s
afety perimeter at 1845. We’ll be able to set sail at that time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pall. Chief? I think you’re up.”
She smiled gently and bobbed her head in acknowledgment with a quiet, “Aye, aye, Captain.” She slipped from the bridge, thoughtfully taking the used boxes with her.
For the first time I noticed that Mr. Schubert’s hands were not swaddled in bandages. I felt a pang of remorse for not noticing sooner but as he moved about the helm, it became clear that the single pad across the palm was doing quite well and my earlier fears might indeed be chalked up to an enthusiastic candy striper.
There was a point in this maneuver that is guaranteed to give nightmares to every person who has ever captained a tractor. We were out bound, certainly, but with no keel, no sail, and only maneuvering thrusters for motive power. If the sail generators failed to come online at the proper time, we would be in a bit of a pickle. On the other hand, we had multiple redundancies. For us to be in a real jam, they’d all have to fail. We still kept our fingers crossed as we approached the point where we’d find out if we were flying or if we’d just keep falling.
“We’ve passed the safety perimeter, Captain.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pall. Signal Chief Gerheart that she may deploy keel and sails when ready.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Signal passed.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pall.”
A few ticks later, I could see the results on the display as the first sail generator spooled up and the field deployed.
At 1905, Ms. Thomas turned from her screen. “Chief Gerheart reports all sail and keel generators are operating nominally, Captain. Sails and keel are deployed.”
“My compliments to the chief, Ms. Thomas. Helm report?”
“Ship has steerage and answering smartly, Captain.”
“Thank you, Mr. Schubert.”
“Ms. Thomas secure from navigation stations. Set normal watch. First section has the duty, I believe?”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Secure from stations and set normal watch. First section has the duty.” She made the appropriate announcement to the rest of the ship.
Captain's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) Page 18