By Darkness Forged (Seeker's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper Book 3)

by Nathan Lowell

  I stood up and slipped my tablet into its holster. Thinking about the Lois—and Alys Giggone in a towel—made me realize I knew exactly what Alys would do. I wasn’t sure if it was what I was supposed to do, but it was much better than moping in the cabin.

  I closed the cabin’s door as I left and climbed the ladder to the bridge. Mr. Reed had the watch and I wanted to check in with him before I set out on my own little voyage of discovery.

  Chapter 4

  Newmar System: 2376, January 20

  Thomas Reed had always seemed like a perpetual second mate. He loved astrogation, didn’t seem inclined to pursue his first mate’s ticket. As I climbed the ladder to the bridge, I wondered how much of that was true and how much was just my own projection on the situation.

  “Captain on the bridge,” Reed said as I topped the ladder.

  “As you were,” I said. “You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

  Reed nodded. “Yeah, but it’s fun.”

  I laughed. “Ms. Cheuvront?”

  Casey Cheuvront looked up from her helm. “Yes, Captain?”

  “What’s your next rating?”

  “My next rating, Captain?”

  “Yes, Ms. Cheuvront. You’re what? Able spacer?”

  “Yes, sar. Have been for a couple of stanyers.”

  “Next step would seem to be a spec-three of some flavor,” I said.

  “Well, Mary is our ship handler already,” she said with a shrug. “Not much call for two on a ship like this.”

  “Ms. Torkelson’s ratings aren’t your problem,” I said. “Having the rating means you could step into her job if she decides to move on.”

  Ms. Cheuvront looked up at me, craning her head around. “Seriously?”

  I shrugged. “If you have the rating, your options open up. Without it, not so much.”

  “I guess I hadn’t looked at it like that,” she said, settling back into the helm. “She didn’t mention anything about leaving.”

  “She hasn’t said anything to me either. It’s just a hypothetical. We may get to Mel’s and there’s a ship with her name on it and poof.” I smiled at her. “Just think about what you might like to move up to. Ship handler? Astrogation? Systems? You could also change divisions if there’s something you’d rather do.”

  “I’ve always been interested in astrogation, sar.” She glanced up at me again, a troubled look on her face. “You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. Just planting the seed. I really like to have crew working toward something and not just doing the same job by default.”

  She didn’t look convinced but she gave me a tentative nod before addressing the ship’s helm.

  I crossed to the watchstander’s station but Reed spoke before I could. “Forget it, Skipper. I’m a good second mate. I like being second mate. I’m not going for first.”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Fair enough. I won’t twist your arm.”

  “You need something, Captain?” he asked. “Other than my career goals?”

  “No. Just wanted to let you know I’m going on a tour of the ship. Bip me if you need me.”

  He eyed me, then glanced at Cheuvront. He lowered his voice and leaned into me. “You’re not going to ask everybody about their career paths, are you?”

  I leaned into him. “Maybe. Why? That a problem?”

  “Something bothering you, Skipper?”

  “Yes. I’m bored. I’m tired of it.”

  He blinked at me several times as if trying to process what he’d heard, as if it were a foreign language he had a rudimentary grasp of but couldn’t quite parse.

  I patted him on the shoulder. “It’s fine, Tom. I’m just going to do a little walkabout. I used to do that as part of my normal shipboard routine, but I’ve been a bit lax lately.”

  “If you say so, Skipper.”

  I nodded and gave him what I hoped was a jaunty grin. His response made me wonder if I shouldn’t just go back to the cabin and practice grinning in front of a mirror.

  I dropped down the ladder and headed aft down the spine. There certainly seemed like there’d be enough room for the chief and me to resume our tai chi practice. Our long form had a lot of side-to-side movement, but the spine had enough width that we could face the bulkhead and have sufficient room for the forward and back.

  I stopped at the chief’s office as I exited the spine. She looked up as I stood in her opened doorway.

  “Captain? How can I help you?”

  “Just stretching my legs,” I said. “Would you like to accompany me on a tour of the aft nacelle?”

  Her eyebrows rose slowly as she stared at me. “Finally got bored enough?” she asked.

  “Finally,” I said. “I used to do this all the time on my other ships. I kinda fell out of the habit in the yards.”

  She nodded. “A good plan. You don’t need me to show you around. Have fun.”

  “I’ll try not to scare the troops.”

  She laughed.

  The main engineering watch station lay just down the passage from the chief’s office, down a couple of steps. When I stuck my head into the compartment, all three watchstanders turned to look with various stages of shock and dismay. The lead, a spec-one with a fields rating badge, started to stand but I waved her back. “Murakofsky?” I asked.

  “Murawsky, Captain.”

  “My apologies. I can’t read your badge from here and I clearly need to get out more.”

  She smiled. “I’ve heard a lot worse, sar.”

  “As you were. Watchstanders have a higher priority than building up a captain’s ego.”

  They laughed—somewhat nervously, I thought, but they laughed.

  “Sound off, please, so I know who you are?” I asked.

  “Spec-one Fields Sheryl Murawsky, sar,” the woman said, nudging the man next to her.

  “Spec-three Grav Derek Bell, sar.” The man looked me in the eye and gave me a nod.

  The last man turned to me and offered a tentative smile. “Machinist Barrett Dent, sar.”

  “I know I’ve met you all before, but thanks for reminding me so I can try to put names with faces.”

  They looked at each other before settling on Murawsky. “Is there something we can do for you, Captain?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Is there something I can do for you? Any of you?”

  “Can we get a coffee mess down here?” Bell asked.

  I thought Murawsky might lose her eyes, they bugged out so far. Dent looked surprised for a moment but turned to me.

  “A coffee mess?” I asked. “Like what? An urn?”

  Murawsky poked Bell but he didn’t shy away. “Nothing that elaborate, Captain. Just, I don’t know. A carafe with some mugs? It’s a long way to the galley during the midwatch.”

  “Have you asked the chief?” I asked.

  Bell’s head jerked up and he stiffened in his seat, his eyes round as shaft bearings. “Dr. Stevens?”

  “Well, I call her Chief Stevens since she’s on my chain of command, but yeah. Her.”

  Bell shook his head. “No, sar. I couldn’t. I mean. She wrote the book ...” He swallowed hard, as if realizing what had rolled off his tongue.

  “One tick,” I said, holding up a digit. “Lemme check.” I trotted back up the steps to the chief’s office.

  She looked up from her console. “Something wrong, Skipper?”

  “What are you feeding these people, Chief?”

  “Why?”

  “You got a moment?”

  She shrugged and stood to follow me back to the watchstanders.

  “Now, Bell? Is it?” I asked.

  His face grew even redder and if Dent slouched any farther into his chair, he’d slide all the way under his console.

  I looked at the chief. “Mr. Bell here has a question for you.”

  “Bell?” she asked, frowning as she looked back and forth between Bell and me.

  “Ah,” he said, sto
pping to clear his throat. “The captain asked if there was anything he could do for us and I mentioned a coffee mess. Sar. Chief. Dr. Stevens.”

  The chief stepped into the crowded compartment and looked at the top of a cabinet against the far bulkhead. “You’re supposed to have one,” she said. “There. On the top of that cabinet. It’s a long damn way to the galley and back on the midwatch.” She turned to me. “Have you been forward on your tour?”

  “Not yet. Hit the bridge and then came aft.”

  “Would you mind asking Ms. Sharps about setting up a tray for here? They should have a standard coffee mess tray that fits right on that cabinet. Carafe, some creamers and sweeteners. A few mugs.”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  She looked at the three watchstanders. “I’m really sorry. You should have said something sooner. How long have we been sailing together?” She shook her head. “Anything else you’ve noticed that’s out of whack?”

  They all shook their heads, somewhat hurriedly.

  “Well, if you do, don’t wait for the captain to make his way aft to check on us, all right?” She grinned at me.

  “Yes, sar.” Their unison was perfect.

  I stepped out of the hatch frame and let the chief exit. “I’m gonna go peek into environmental. I’ll stop by on my way out.”

  She nodded and sent a quizzical glance back at the watchstanders.

  “I’ll fill you in,” I said.

  She nodded again and headed for her office, moving slowly and shaking her head.

  I dropped down the ladders, past the main engineering deck, and into the environmental section.

  “Captain on deck.” A machinist rose from the watchstanding desk just inside the hatch, coming to full attention just as his console bipped. He appeared hung in indecision for a moment.

  “As you were,” I said before he hurt himself. “Better get that ASIC alarm before it alerts the bridge.”

  “Yes, sar.” He plunked down on the chair and started clearing the automated systems integrity check.

  A spec-one stepped out of the small office and grinned. “Captain. What brings you to the swampy side?”

  “Penna, right?” I asked, offering a hand. “I remember you from Breakall.”

  He beamed and shook my hand. “Yes, sar. Jorge Penna.”

  “How’s life in the swamp?” I asked, taking in a lungful of the musky, green-tasting air.

  “Oh, you know how it is, sar.” He paused and looked at me.

  “You’re just knee-deep?” I made it sound like a frog’s nee-deep croak.

  He burst out laughing. “Not where I was going, but that about sums it up, sar.”

  “One of my earliest jobs on ship was environmental.”

  He frowned at me. “I didn’t realize environmental was an officer billet, sar.”

  “It’s not. I was a spec-two. Well, probably wiper when I started, but I made spec-two environmental before I left that division.” I looked around the compartment. “Been a while. I started out changing the algae matrices on a multi-freight hauler over in Dunsany Roads.”

  “Wow,” he said. “We haven’t used those for—what? A decade?”

  I grinned at him and he flushed. “Probably more,” I said. “I started young.”

  “Sorry, Captain.”

  “Nothing to apologize for,” I said. “Seriously, though. How’s things down here? Anything you need that you haven’t asked the chief for?”

  He looked around the compartment as if taking inventory. After a few moments he shook his head. “Nothing I can think of. The chief and I came to an arrangement back on Breakall. I know what needs doing down here. She knows what needs doing up there.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the overhead. “Long as she can’t smell it, she leaves me to take care of it.” He grinned. “She hasn’t come down to find out why it stinks, so I figure I’m doing all right.”

  “Doing environmental long?” I asked.

  “I started young,” he said with a grin. “Tagged after my parents around the station since I was old enough to ask ‘whazzat?’ Drove my mother crazy, but Dad just kept answering.”

  “Which station?” I asked.

  “One of Kondur’s mining platforms over at Dark Knight.”

  “Never wanted to try your hand at mining?”

  He shook his head and gave a mock shudder. “You never flew in a barge, I take it?”

  “No, why?”

  “Horrible boats. Not enough room to change your underwear without everybody getting their noses in it. Filled with dust most of the time. Air filtration is a nightmare. Environmentals are all plug and glug.” He shook his head. “No, thank you very much.”

  “Well, I have some understanding of what goes on down here beyond the normal deck officer’s ‘what stinks?’ kinds of questions. Let me know if there’s something I can help with.”

  He nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Skipper. I appreciate that.”

  I turned to the watchstander, sitting bolt upright and stiff in his seat. “I’m Captain Wang,” I said and held out a hand. “Mr. Schulteis, is it?”

  The man jumped like I’d slapped him before standing and shaking my hand. “Yes, sar. Well, no, sar. Schul-tyes, not Schul-tees.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Schulteis,” I said, emphasizing the corrected syllable. “I’ll remember.” I looked at his rating plaque. “Wiper? How’d you get assigned to environmental?”

  “Drew the short straw, sar.” He shrugged.

  I looked at Penna. “Short straw?”

  Penna sighed. “Chief Stevens had all the ratings pick their preferred slot based on seniority. Mr. Schulteis is the sole wiper and the most junior member of the crew. He had to pick last and got stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

  I looked at Schulteis. “How are you doing down here?”

  He shrugged. “Quarter share, sar. Shares have been good. It’s not too demanding, and honestly, nobody bothers me.”

  I looked to Penna. “Who else you have in the section?”

  “Two half-shares. Carla Moore and Dave Larson. We didn’t get any other environmental specialists hired on.”

  “You want a raise?” I asked, looking back at Schulteis.

  Schulteis blinked at me. “A raise? What? To like half share?”

  “Yeah. Just like half share. Maybe full share.”

  Schulteis looked at Penna who shrugged.

  “Sure. What do I have to do?”

  “Pass the exam,” I said.

  “That’s it?” He asked. “Don’t we have to have a billet for it?”

  “Usually, yes. Here’s the thing.” I looked at Penna. “We’re rated at minimum High Line crew levels. That means you’re rated for at least one spec-three watchstander. You don’t have any. You don’t even have a full-share machinist, do you?”

  Penna shook his head. “No, I don’t, sar.”

  “You know how to get them?” I asked.

  Penna shook his head but Schulteis seemed to light up.

  “Pass the test,” he said.

  “Exactly,” I said. “You know you don’t have to pass each test in order, right?”

  Penna’s eyes grew wide, but Schulteis just grinned wider.

  Chapter 5

  Newmar System: 2376, January 20

  On my way past the chief’s office, I slipped in and closed the door behind me.

  She looked up and grinned. “Dish.”

  “Seems there’s a bit of hero worship among your engineering staff. Apparently nobody wanted to bother Chief Dr. Margaret Stevens who wrote the book, etc.”

  The chief rocked back in her chair like I’d slugged her. “That’s insane.”

  I shrugged. “That’s what happened. I don’t know how long that’s been going on but it seemed like the coffee mess issue had been banged around before.”

  “Nobody ever said a word, I swear.”

  “I believe you,” I said. “What do you know about Penna?”

  “Best environmental tech I’ve seen outside of
the academy. Why?”

  “He has no spec-threes.”

  “The ship has no spec-threes for environmental.”

  “Weren’t there any in the hiring pool?” I asked.

  “Nobody I’d be willing to hire,” she said, voice flat.

  “Good enough for me, then. What about getting some of them moving on their ratings?”

  “Out here?”

  “Sure. As long as we grab the curriculum off the CPJCT before we jump into Toe-Hold space. They can prep out there as well as here. Grab the schedule and certify our own exams in deep space.”

  She nodded. “We could have been doing this all along.”

  “We probably should have been,” I said.

  “Sorry, Captain. That slipped by me.”

  “Not a problem. I may have tipped off Schulteis that he can take the spec-three exam as soon as he can pass it.”

  “Tipped off?”

  “He seemed pretty resigned to having drawn the short straw for environmental.”

  “I let the ratings sort it out among themselves. There was a little arm-wrestling involved. I had to override a couple of them, but by and large they picked the slots I’d have assigned them to. Including Schulteis, if I remember correctly.”

  “He said he’s pretty happy there. It was the ‘short straw’ comment that made me dig a little more.”

  She nodded. “I can see where it would.”

  “I asked if he wanted a raise.”

  The chief leaned forward. “What did he say?”

  “Well, about what you’d expect. I asked him if he knew how to get one. Penna seemed a little out of the loop on the training rules.”

  “He probably would be, given his background. I’ll fix that,” she said, typing something in her console.

  “I think we’ve got that handled, but expect Schulteis to make a quiet inquiry about the spec-three environmental curriculum.”

  “He’s going to try to go from wiper to spec-three?” she asked.

  “I think so. I hope so.”

  She ticked her head to the side. “Really?”