Chapter Forty-Nine
Diurnia System:
2372-June-05
We got underway for Dree just before noon. I’d made the offer to paint staterooms and berthing areas to all the crew, but nobody took me up on it. I left the offer open and allocated funds to an accounting line in the ledger. The co-op had done well, and they were beginning to get their processes down. I noted that they’d already replaced the goods I’d bought from them.
Jen sent a note on the morning we got underway. It read, “I’m sorry.”
Part of me wanted to know which part of it she was sorry for. The little animal part of me kept feeling betrayed, but there was a more rational part–perhaps a colder part–that wouldn’t let me ignore the reality that my long absences and short, infrequent returns were as much a factor as anything. She always played second fiddle to the ship, and as much as the little animal kept screaming his rage, I had to admit to myself that we really had no life together and never had. We had a contract that should have been dissolved long since.
I sent back a reply. “Me, too.”
As the tug pushed us out towards the Deep Dark, I felt the ache begin to subside. If there was no compass pointing back to Diurnia any more, there was also no string pulling harder with each day. I’d always believed that when the lock closed, it severed my connection to Diurnia and the people there. For stanyers I’d been very successful in compartmentalizing but for the first time in a long time, there was no compartment and I finally realized just how wrong I’d been.
“Any word on pirate activity in the area, Mr. Pall?”
He seemed a bit startled by the question and I realized we’d been riding along in near silence since Mr. Wyatt had brought us our lunches at noon. “Not in this quadrant, Skipper. We should be clear to the jump point.”
“Excellent news, Mr. Pall. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Skipper.”
I glanced at Ms. Thomas. I know she saw me look but she studiously kept her focus on the console in front of her.
I settled back in my chair and felt the ship beneath me. It felt good.
Around 1610 the tug gave us our final boost and turned us loose to coast to the safety limit where we’d be able to raise the sails. I looked up at the drop-down repeater and had to admire Mr. Pall’s elegant plotting. We’d been working on the wind flow models ever since Jett. It was fairly well established that the winds above and below the plane of the ecliptic were more laminar–less disturbed by the passage of the system’s planets, asteroids, and other assorted paraphernalia. Most astrogators tended to ignore that as being an insignificant difference at the scales we operated on. I wasn’t so sure myself, and Mr. Pall and I had agreed to try sailing a little higher and picking courses that were diametrically opposed to the system’s center of mass to try to gain the shortest route to the burleson limit as we could. A day or two made a big difference in our operating expenses and if we could carve off two or three on each trip it would mean better profits over the long haul.
I had to marvel over how much the technology had improved just since my days on the Lois. New field integrity work back in the ’60s meant we could have sails that were substantially larger now, and sail correspondingly faster. The Agamemnon was actually rated at two metric kilotons higher than the Lois, but we could make the run out to the burleson limit a week or so faster. Of course, being a bulk hauler, the tare mass on the hull was a third of what the Lois’s had been so some part of that gain was inherent in the ship itself. Still, it startled me to realize that I’d been at it long enough to actually recognize the improvements.
“Coming up on the safety limit, Captain.”
“Thank you, Ms. Thomas. If you’d notify the chief engineer?”
“Done, Captain.”
By 1730 we were well underway with all sails up and drawing nicely and I gave the command to secure from navigation stations. First section would have the watch for a few ticks, which gave Mr. Pall and Mr. Ricks a chance to freshen up before they took it for the evening. Mr. Hill and I would have the evening off to rest up before taking the midwatch. We were back on the merry-go-round again.
Dinner was a jovial affair with Mr. Wyatt going all out to put on a feast of roast fowl, curried potatoes, and a delightful goulash of mixed vegetables. He’d been working on his soup stocks and the practice showed in a delicate opening broth laced with a collection of savories and textures. For dessert, he produced a fresh fruit pie stuffed with apples, pears, and raisins.
The crew set to with a will and good humor. If I seemed a little more subdued than normal, they were gracious enough to grant me the space. After helping to clean up after, I begged off and headed to the cabin claiming the need to rest as an excuse. Truthfully, I did need to rest. The stay at Diurnia had drained me, but I was just as conscious that my emotional state bled over into the crew and I needed to minimize that to whatever degree I could.
As always when underway, the port across the bow drew me. In the subdued lighting, the dark red around the open expanse of armor glass set off the true black of the Deep Dark ahead of us, just as the chief had predicted. The paler bulkheads on either side seemed to recede in my peripheral vision leaving only the bright sparkles of distant suns splashed across the view.
I found myself smiling–not a big smile, but a real one. I crossed to the desk and switched on the lamp there rather than turning on the overheads. It was enough light to see what I needed to see and added some warmth. I sat for a moment and ran through the incoming message traffic, scanning the logs briefly. I’d give them more attention during the midwatch, but I took a moment to see if anything needed immediate action. I disposed of the routine matters almost as fast as I read them, marking the more complex for later. There wasn’t that much that needed my attention and I sat back in my chair, surveying my small domain.
The master’s license hung on the bulkhead above my desk and it looked quite fitting there. The large hanging beside the cabin door was a perfect foil to the open port behind me and I’d noticed that the room seemed quieter. I hadn’t actually noticed the way sound had echoed until the addition of the tapestry had damped it. I swiveled the desk chair around so that I could look out at the stars once more. The light behind me reflected on the armor glass and I could see my own image in silhouette reflected faintly back at me–a dark outline looking out into the dark.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, sitting there and listening to the ship around me, listening to my heartbeats, listening to the air in the vents and the air in my lungs. After a few ticks, I swiveled back to shut off the light and let my bunk call me. The merry-go-round continued spinning and I needed to be ready for my next pass at the brass ring.
We were two days out of Diurnia when I finally got around to updating the contest standings between Mr. Hill and Mr. Wyatt. In gross terms, Mr. Wyatt was ahead of Mr. Hill by close to a kilo cred. That sounded like a lot, but the grand totals were in the two hundred and fifty kilo cred range so the difference really only represented a fraction of a percent. I was amused to note that I was actually in the lead with a total almost fifteen kilocreds higher. I scrolled back through the transactions and traced it to a healthy variance on that first can from Diurnia to Welliver. It had looked like a relatively minor cargo, but we delivered it ahead of schedule and were able to capitalize on a bonus for early delivery. It had been luck more than planning, but I made a mental note to share the finding with my cargo pickers.
In running the numbers, I noted that the last three runs had yielded returns almost an order of magnitude higher than average for the entire previous stanyer. The resulting shares were substantial and having their work recognized in a tangible way like that was probably one reason that the terrible trio didn’t get into any trouble at all while we were in Diurnia. I thought they were really beginning to come to grips with the reality that they actually did have a stake in how things went. Of course, in fairness to them, the dust-up on Jett was really not their fault either.
I finished updating the figures just a few ticks before Mr. Pall was due to relieve the watch at noon.
“The official count has you only a kilocred behind, Mr. Hill.”
“That’s not bad, Skipper. I think I can make it up on this run to Dree.”
I looked at the manifest again and nodded slowly. “I think you may be right, Mr. Hill. How will you feel about it if you lose?”
He grinned over at me. “You have so little faith in me, Skipper?”
I chuckled. “No, Mr. Hill. Actually I expect you’ll win, but I’m also thinking it’s going to be as much luck as anything.” I shrugged. “The dice may roll against you.”
He nodded at that. “True enough, Captain.” He thought it over for a few ticks. “I think I’d like to work with Mr. Wyatt, actually.”
“Really, Mr. Hill?”
He shrugged and looked into his helm display. “He’s really an interesting guy. I never realized it before. And he’s certainly been picking better cargoes since you came aboard, Skipper.” He shook his head ruefully. “It’s like he’s a different man.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not picking for him, are you, Captain?”
I chuckled. “No, Mr. Hill, but I don’t blame you for asking.
“He never picked cans like this before, Skipper.”
“No, Mr. Hill. The absolute truth is, he never picked cans before.”
He looked over at me. “What do you mean, he never picked cans?”
“He thought he was supposed to get a dispatch from DST. He’d call them up and they’d pick the first shipment on the list and off you’d go.”
“So, wait, Captain.” He turned to look at me. “He’d never picked a can?”
I shook my head. “No, Mr. Hill. Like so many other things about this ship, he was a victim of a process that he didn’t understand.”
“You knew this when we placed the bet, Skipper?”
“That he’d never actually picked a cargo on his own? Yes, Mr. Hill.”
“So you bet that he could out pick me and you had no idea if he could pick a cargo or not?”
I smiled at him. “Yes, Mr. Hill. That’s true.” I let him consider it for a moment. “I did have reason to believe that he had some considerable data management talent that he wasn’t using, and I bet on that. Either way, I couldn’t lose.”
“How do you figure that, Skipper?”
“I told you in the beginning, Mr. Hill. Whatever happens with the bet, the ship wins by having better profits. I was reasonably certain you’d be an excellent cargo picker. If I was wrong about Mr. Wyatt, then you’d make up for his shortfalls. I was right about you. I was right about him. The share values on these last three trips have been higher than in the previous three stanyers.” I shrugged again. “I don’t call that losing.”
He thought about that a bit before glancing in my direction. “You don’t play poker, do you, Captain?”
I shook my head. “No, Mr. Hill.”
He sighed. “Pity, Captain.”
I chuckled and when Mr. Pall came to relieve the watch, gave him the figures to add to the open cargo display. I wanted the rest of the crew to see the standings as we counted down our last two runs.
Chapter Fifty
Diurnia System:
2372-June-22
The quarterly ratings exams came around again while we were only two weeks out of Diurnia. I’d briefed Mr. Pall on the duties of a training officer. They weren’t that onerous and he was already handling the systems updates to keep the testing portfolios up to date. I walked him through the procedures and turned the task of administering the exam over to him.
Mr. Schubert was working thorough his advanced maths course and decided not to try for Ship Handler One again until after he’d finished that task. Mr. Hill was ready for Cargoman Two and Mr. Ricks surprised me by going for Messman–the full share rating in the Steward Division.
“Messman, Mr. Ricks?”
“Yes, Skipper. I’ve been helping out Mr. Wyatt in the galley on my off time, and I kinda like it. It pays the same a Able Spacer and it’s a day job. No watch standing.”
“That’s true, Mr. Ricks. It’s not a bad job.”
He shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know if anybody would hire me, but you never know. I have to say the idea of not standing watch is really appealing, even if I do have to get up early and peel vegetables. It beats brow watch.”
“I have to grant you that, Mr. Ricks.” I smiled at him. “You sure you want to go for Messman right out of the blocks? You could try the Attendant exam.”
“No, Skipper, but thanks for asking. I’ve been studying for Messman, and it’s really not too difficult. Mostly sanitation and food handling regulations on top of the normal ship stuff.” He grinned. “Besides, if I fail it, I’m not out anything and I can try again next quarter. If I get it, then I’ve got a second rating to fall back on.”
“I just wanted to make sure, Mr. Ricks. Check with Mr. Pall and work out the schedule with him, if you would?”
“Aye, aye, Skipper.”
I’d arranged with Mr. Pall to use the extra console on the bridge to give the two exams. We had to do a little finagling to get the line up correct, but it worked out well with Mr. Ricks taking his test during the last stan of morning watch while Mr. Hill and I had the duty, and Mr. Hill taking his exam right after lunch during the afternoon watch while Mr. Ricks and Mr. Pall had the duty. Administering the exam was no burden on the OD watch, but the key was making sure the person taking the test wasn’t actually supposed to be standing a watch.
It worked out, and I was grateful to Mr. Pall for taking on the ancillary duty.
They both passed their exams and I wondered if, perhaps, we might be losing one or more of them to other ships when we got back to Diurnia. With the contest for cargo picking going on, I didn’t think we’d lose any of them until the bet was won and lost, but opportunities sometimes knock at the window while you’re watching the door.
After that the merry-go-round spun largely unnoticed by anybody aboard. We made a routine jump from Diurnia to Dree on the twenty-ninth of June and ran through a complete round of ships drills on our way into the well. Every day that passed, I felt better about the way things were going. My tai chi practice went well, and I found myself slipping back into the meditation in motion of the discipline.
I also loved the redecorated cabin more each time I returned to it and saw it anew. I only wished that I had either a conversational grouping or pads on the bench in front of the port. What I really found myself craving was a comfy chair. Maybe it was age, or maybe it was just too much sitting at the consoles, but I found myself sitting on my bunk with the pillows behind my back more often than not when I’d really like to be sitting in the cabin looking out the port. The most comfortable chair on the ship was the captain’s chair on the bridge. I only ever sat in that when we went to navigation stations. It seemed a bit unfair.
The trip was uneventful until we picked up the inner markers on the eighteenth of July. We started getting hourly updates on cargo and economic conditions and, as in most Confederated planets, the market in cargoes was exceptionally lively. The competition for them was lively as well. The one hour delay meant that the ships docked had an advantage in terms of snagging the prime cargoes. In spite of that I managed to grab a can of raw silicon heading back to Diurnia. Mr. Wyatt and Mr. Hill scrambled to try to outpick each other and all the tractors already at the station. The rest of the crew helped to keep an eye on the status board on the mess deck. Neither was able to grab a cargo before we tied up and got into the real-time loop at the orbital, but it was great fun to watch. Frustrating for them, no doubt, but they persisted in good humor.
We locked down at Dree early in the evening watch on July 22nd. Mr. Hill and Mr. Wyatt closeted themselves in Mr. Wyatt’s stateroom and stayed there until nearly 2300. They emerged with smiles. we had our load heading back. Mr. Wyatt had locked on a midrange priority can of mixed buil
ding materials within ticks of its appearance on the boards. Mr. Hill snagged a can of bulk sulfur with a very attractive early delivery bonus. It looked very much like the contest was going to go down to the wire.
Breakfast the next morning was well attended and I didn’t get a chance to speak quietly with Mr. Wyatt until we’d finished cleaning up and the others drifted off to sleep or ashore. “You seem pretty pleased with the contest, Avery.”
“I am, Skipper. Mr. Hill is a formidable researcher and he has great instincts.”
“You may lose this, you know.”
He grinned. “Frankly, Skipper, I hope I do.”
I must have looked surprised.
His grin broadened and gave his head a little shake. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m gonna try to beat him, but dealing with stores isn’t that big a deal. I don’t really need an apprentice to handle that. We make a very good team picking cargoes, actually, and I suspect that he’d be happy to help, just for the fun of it.” He gave a little shrug. “But if he wins, we all get a hot tub.”
I laughed. “Excellent point, Avery. I hadn’t considered that you might want a hot tub more than you needed an apprentice.”
He chuckled briefly and then looked at me out of the corners of his eyes. “Did you really think I could beat him, Skipper?”
“You mean when I placed the bet?”
“Yes, Captain.” He shuffled his feet a little and shifted his weight. “We had a little talk about the bet and how it started. I’m embarrassed to admit that I really had no idea how we picked cargoes. On the Saltzman Leviathans, it all came out of the central clearing house. They were monstrous ships and lining up the fleet to keep them moving with optimal loads took a team of cargo wranglers on each orbital.”
I shrugged. “The Saltzman operation is also very centralized, Avery. You never worked cargo anywhere else?”
He shook his head. “Landed a berth there right out of Port Newmar and stayed until I made chief. They only ever hired family for the chief officer posts there. I had to leave or stay cargo first.”
Captain's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) Page 37