Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper)

by Nathan Lowell

  Understanding blossomed on her face. “Timing is everything, eh, Captain?” Her carefully neutral expression seemed almost sympathetic.

  “In most things, Ms. Maloney.” I shrugged again. “We’ve got ninety days—well, eighty-nine now—to find a buyer and sink the note.”

  “What are you going to do, Captain?” She sounded genuinely curious.

  “This is going to sound odd, Ms. Maloney, but back when I first set sail on the Lois McKendrick over in Dunsany Roads? We had a saying. It seems rather simple-minded in hindsight, but I saw it work again and again.”

  “A saying, Captain?”

  “Whenever things looked bad, we’d say ‘Trust Lois.’”

  “Lois? The ship?”

  “Yes, Ms. Maloney. It wasn’t a blind, sit on your hands, and wait for a miracle thing. It was more like, face your problem, and deal with it the best you know how, and trust that the ship—or more realistically, your crew—would help see you through.”

  “And this worked, Captain?”

  “Not always, but it was surprising how often it did.”

  She cocked her head and regarded me with a rather skeptical expression. “So your strategy is ‘Trust Lois,’ Captain?”

  I waggled my head back and forth a bit indicating she was close. “Actually, I’m thinking ‘Trust Iris’.”

  She chuffed a laugh. “Do you think that’s going to work?”

  I smiled, and shook my head. “No, not really, Ms. Maloney. I think it’s going to fail.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because it lets me put that problem aside for now. I can’t do anything about it. Focusing on it won’t solve it. Focusing on what might help, what could work, what I can do? That will move me closer and as we go, perhaps a solution will present itself.” I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Mr. Simpson will find somebody with eight million to invest before the ninety days are up and I can sink the note. What I do know is that worrying about it keeps me from doing the things I can do. If I can compartmentalize that by saying ‘Trust Iris,’ that’s good enough for me.”

  “Eight million is a lot to compartmentalize, Captain. Can you really do it?”

  “An excellent question, Ms. Maloney. An excellent question. I’ll let you know in a couple of weeks.”

  The ladder started dropping then, and we went out to help the chandlery workers deliver the food.

  Three stans, two urns of coffee, and several sandwiches later—we fed the workers while we were at it—we finished checking in and stowing three-quarters of a metric ton of food. The work was painstaking and aggravating. We kept making mistakes as we got more and more tired. In the end, we ran out of pantry space so I ordered them to stash some of the cases of canned goods, and other non-perishables, in the compartment next door as an expedient.

  Ms. Arellone took the workers down to the lock, and opened it up so they could leave. She brought back my father. “Captain, I found this fellow loitering outside our lock. Perhaps you’d like to have a word with him?” She grinned, and winked at the older man.

  I just stood there, looking at him, at the face that had stared out from that photo from so long ago. Wrinkled now, and lacking the hair, but the same eyes. His nose might have been a bit broader, his mouth a bit care worn. “Dad?”

  “Ishmael.”

  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  He laughed, and I remembered it—the sound of it echoed from long ago. A sound I knew, but didn’t know I knew until I heard it.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I’ve had enough of yours. It seems only right.”

  “Yes, but I always charged you for mine.”

  “I’ll let you pay for this if it’ll make you feel better.”

  The coffee went into mugs, and we sat at the table. We sat for either a very long time or maybe a tick before he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me when your mother died?”

  “I couldn’t find you.” I sighed, realizing how weak that sounded. “All I knew was your name, and that you were somewhere in this sector. Maybe.”

  “That’s it?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if the expression in his eyes was pain or amusement. Perhaps it was both.

  “Yes, sir. And again when I went to the academy. My captain pulled a few strings but you didn’t show on their census either.”

  He shook his head. “Yet, of all the places in the universe, you come into my restaurant?”

  “I knew you were here somewhere. Mother said we came from here, and you stayed, but it’s a big quadrant. When I first came here, I did a network query for you, and didn’t find you. I figured you must have moved away.”

  He stared at me, curiosity painting his face. “Look at you. A captain? And you own this ship? This company?”

  “This is new. I just signed for it yesterday, and I had to go into debt for it a bit.”

  “I can only imagine.” He looked around at the mess deck and galley.

  “You have a better imagination than I do, then,” I said with a chuckle, “because I couldn’t have imagined going that far in debt even a week ago. We can take a tour if you like.”

  “In a bit. Tell me what you’ve been up to.” He laughed apologetically. “Like you can tell me about thirty-five stanyers in a few minutes.”

  I grinned and gave him the highlights of growing up on Neris, mother being killed in a flitter crash, signing onto the Lois, going to the academy, and moving to Diurnia. He listened in rapt attention, occasionally shaking his head in disbelief.

  “My life is so dull by comparison,” he said at last. “The restaurant. I had a diner down on the planet for a while after your mother took you and moved on. It was good, but one day I took a trip up here on a whim.” He smiled. “I’d never been off planet before, but when I came up here and saw it, I never wanted to leave. The stars are so beautiful and the people here are always interesting. I sold my diner on the ground, and opened one up here. That was, heavens, thirty stanyers ago. I’ve been up here ever since.”

  “I’ve been eating at your place for almost half that time.” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had breakfast looking at the back of your head.”

  We sat there, slowly feeling less awkward, less foreign. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt, to find a son—I didn’t even have a son to find. I wasn’t really sure how I felt. This was the man I never really knew, and because I never had a father, I never really understood what I was missing.

  “Would you like to see the bridge?”

  He gave a little uncertain shrug. “Sure.”

  I led him off the mess deck and up the ladder to the tiny bridge on top of the ship. The scarred skin of the orbital drew his eyes. The brilliant reflections off the metal filled the bridge with an argent light.

  “That’s startling. It looks so close!”

  “It is close. We’re only a few meters from the outside of the orbital here. The docking ring on the bow keeps us sealed to the outside.”

  He slowly scanned around the bridge, looking at the equipment, running a hand over the back of one of the seats. Eventually, he looked aft, and I saw in his eyes that I must have inherited the gene from him. He didn’t say anything really, but his mouth opened and he made a kind of soft, “Ohhhh,” sound.

  I turned, and looked out myself.

  “It looks very different here than it does from the observation lounge,” he said at last.

  “It does,” I agreed.

  We leaned against the armorglass, and looked out into the dark together, eventually talking more, not so much catching up as learning about each other. I had a hard time figuring it out. After so long, I felt like I should have no connection to him, but I did.

  Eventually, his peda chimed, and with a start he pulled it out of his pocket. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go back to work now,” he said looking up at me, and I realized for the first time that he really stood about five centimeters shorter than I did. “Duty calls,” he added.

  I laughed a s
hort laugh. “This is something I know too well. Come on. I’ll let you out.”

  I led him down the ladder, and keyed the lock open for him. We stood there awkwardly for a few heartbeats, and he held out his hand. I hugged him. I actually hugged my father. I don’t know who was more surprised—him or me.

  We stepped back, and he turned to walk out. “Wait, the maintenance hatch...” I walked him out. “How did you get in here anyway? I forgot all about that locked hatch this morning.”

  He shrugged. “I just waited for somebody to open it, and I followed them in.”

  “Wasn’t it cold out there?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”

  I keyed the maintenance hatch for him, and he stepped through.

  “Hey, Dad?” I called.

  He stopped, and looked back at me.

  “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Diurnia Orbital:

  2372-December-28

  At 0500 I crawled out of bed. I really wanted to get the ship into space before the day ended, and there was still a lot to do. Unfortunately, I had one more administrative chore before I could launch legally.

  A quick pass through the head included a short wrestle with the shower door which fell off its hinge, nearly banging my feet. I wrestled with it briefly, before giving up and splashing water all over in the interest of getting clean. I keyed open my tablet, and created a punch list. It started with a note to ask the chief to re-attach the door. I added another one to repair the towel rack in the second head.

  By 0520, I had the coffee ground and dripping, and an omelet pan warming. Onions, mushrooms, and ham went onto the cutting board and my new knives made short work of them. The new galley set up felt awkward and I suspected I would need to make some adjustments, but for a first meal it felt pretty good. The galley lacked enough counter space to set up a full buffet, but I used what I had and set up a four slice toaster next to the coffee urn. I thought the counter along the far bulkhead would work nicely but the idea of setting up a chafing dish for four crew members, seemed like a bit of a waste.

  At 0540 I got the bacon going, and by the time things were properly ready at 0600 the chief had shambled onto the mess deck, dampish and looking a bit rumpled. He helped himself to coffee, and flopped at the table. “Oh, yah, Cap. Now this is a alot better.” He sucked about half his hot coffee down and breathed more freely. “Gettin’ too old for all this excitement, I tell ya, Cap. Too banging old.”

  “How’s it going in the back, Chief?”

  “Fine, Cap. Good and fine. She’s ready to jump when you say frog, Cap. See if’n she hain’t.”

  “Well, I put in the order to get the hull numbers repainted last night. The stencil cart should be around this morning, and I filed course for a shake down loop, out and up.”

  “What time we pulling out, Cap?”

  “I filed for 1300.”

  “Should do, Cap. Should do. I didn’t get those consoles replaced yesterday. Might be I could use a hand to get them changed out this morning after mess, huh? Think?”

  “Could be, Chief. You want an omelet?”

  “That’d be tasty, Cap. Right tasty.”

  “What you want in it?”

  “Whatever ya got. I hain’t fussy, Cap. Bacon with it be good. Surely would.”

  I pointed the spatula at the toaster. “If you’d do the honors on the toaster?”

  He grunted and heaved himself out of his chair. He slipped four slices in, dropped the lever, and then refilled his mug while he was waiting.

  Ms. Arellone and Ms. Maloney came in together. Ms. Arellone was used to seeing me at the stove, but it was the first time for Ms. Maloney. She eyed me with an arched brow as she filled and sipped delicately from a mug.

  “Ms. Arellone? What you like in your omelet?”

  “Ham and cheese, Skipper.”

  “Ms. Maloney?

  “Mushrooms and onions, Captain. Cheese?”

  “Cheese we have. Cheddar, swiss, or blue.”

  “Blue, please, sir—sar.” She grimaced. “Sorry, sar. Old habits die hard.”

  “You’re doing fine, Ms. Maloney.”

  “It’s like a new language for me, sar.”

  “We all had to learn it at one time or another, Ms. Maloney. That’s why the CPJCT made quarter shares.” I grinned and plated the chief’s omelet and tossed a couple of crispy rashers of bacon on the plate. “Omelet, chief.”

  “Thankee, Cap. Thankee right kindly.”

  He collected some toast, his plate, and a fork, and settled at the table. He looked around uncertainly.

  “Eat, Chief. With me cooking? It’s not like I can lead the mess line.”

  Ms. Maloney looked puzzled, and turned to Ms. Arellone.

  “Normally, we eat in order of rank. Captain first.” She shrugged. “Kinda hard to do here.”

  Ms. Maloney nodded. “I can see that.”

  “It’ll only be a few ticks here and we can all sit, but it’s silly for you all to wait and let your omelets chill,” I told them. “They’re best right from the pan.”

  In a few ticks we were all settled at the table, regardless of rank order. Ms. Arellone kept looking at me.

  “What is it, Ms. Arellone? Do I have spinach in my teeth?”

  She laughed. “No, Captain, but I just wondered about you and your father. How did this whole thing happen?”

  “My mother and father separated when I was four. We moved to Neris over in Dunsany Roads. She was a teacher at the University of Neris. The only thing I knew about him was that they didn’t get along, and he stayed in the Diurnia sector. I didn’t know he was actually here on Diurnia let alone the orbital.”

  “Didn’t you try to find him, sar?”

  “Oh, yes, but even when I had help, nothing ever turned up. All I had was a name, and there are too many Wangs, and not enough Franklins. I have no idea why.”

  “Is that why you came here after the academy, sar?” Ms. Maloney asked.

  I thought about it while I chewed and swallowed. “It was part of the reason, Ms. Maloney, but really? Your father was the only one to offer me a job. Almost everybody else in my class had an offer, and I was getting a little scared that nobody wanted to take a chance on an ex-landrat.”

  I looked around the table, and nodded to them. “Thanks for giving us a little time last night. It was an unusual situation, and I appreciate that you all dealt with dinner on your own.”

  Ms. Arellone grinned. “No problem, Skipper.”

  I finished my omelet and toast, and sat back in my chair. “Okay, then, ship’s business. We’re getting out of here this afternoon, provided nothing gets in the way. We’ve got to wait for the painters to redo the hull numbers and fix our name so we’ll be legal when we pull out. That’s supposed to happen this morning. We’re ready to make rumbling noises when it’s rumble time, Chief?”

  “Oh, aye, that we are, Cap, that we are. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ what she’ll do, I am.”

  “Excellent. I need to finish our astrogation updates, and file our final flight plan right after breakfast, and I’m going to have to ask you two to square away the galley and mess deck while I do that.” I looked across the table at Ms. Arellone and Ms. Maloney.

  “Of course, sar,” Ms. Arellone said.

  “We’ll have a lot more cleaning and painting and such to do. I’m planning on having us underway for a day so we can get a feel for the ship, and to give Ms. Maloney an opportunity to begin learning helm watch.”

  She looked startled. “Helm watch, Captain?”

  “I’ll be okay, Ms. Maloney. It sounds more challenging than it really is.”

  Ms. Arellone added, “Mostly it’s long and boring and there’s not much going on.”

  “With a ship of this class, it’s more boring than that. Most fast packets run on autopilot most of the time, and few maintain a bridge watch at all. That always seemed like a dangerous practice to me so the three of us will main
tain the watch.” I shrugged. “A bit looser than we might with a bigger ship where we’d have an officer of the deck and a helm watch besides, but I want somebody awake and alert around the clock when we’re underway.”

  “Sounds okay to me, Skipper,” Ms. Arellone said.

  “Okay, then. Any questions?”

  I looked around the table and got none.

  “Good.” I turned to the chief. “I’ll run the astrogation updates in the cabin. Do you want me to help you lug the new consoles up now?”

  He shook his head a couple of times. “Naw. Go get yer updates kicked off, Cap. I’ll wrestle the new ones onto the lift, and when they get up here, I’ll bang on the door and you can help me get ’em up there. That’ll work, yah. that’ll work.”

  “Very well.” I looked once more around the table and said, “Let’s do it.”

  I stood and took my dirties over to the dishwasher, slotting them in for cleaning, and taking a moment to snag one last piece of bacon on my way off the mess deck. The rest of the crew followed suit, and I left Ms. Arellone and Ms. Maloney rolling up the sleeves of their ship suits and beginning to organize the clean up.

  The astrogation updates had downloaded for me overnight, and I pulled them up sorting by distance and priority. There weren’t many for Diurnia local space, but a few navigational warnings for stray rocks and the odd satellite outage existed for the outer edges of the system. I settled into the routine task, and the memories of being a second mate on the Tinker all came back. They eased me into the groove so smoothly that I jumped when the chief slapped my door and spoke to me.

  “Cap, I can use ya now, Cap. I surely can.”

  I slipped out of the cabin, and in a couple of ticks I helped the chief wrestle the consoles up the ladder to the bridge. They were a bit awkward, but certainly not that heavy. We stood them up in the forward part of the bridge to give the chief space to work, and then I went back down to the cabin to finish the updates.

  In less than a stan, the chief had the old consoles swapped for the new, and I had finished my updates. To celebrate, I helped him lug the old units down to the stores closet. When we had them secured, I scampered back up to the bridge to check out the new gear. It was a bit newer than the equipment on the Agamemnon had been, but it worked just like every other console I’d used—just a smidge faster.