Her face lit up in a huge grin.
“What?” I asked.
“Something Margaret did just before she left the ship. She ordered a piece of gear and I couldn’t imagine what it might be used for. She told me to tuck it away in the spares closet and that one day soon, I’d know what to do with it.” Her smile never dimmed. “Now I know what she meant.”
“What is it?” I asked, with a laugh. “Did she order a big sheet of armorglass?”
“Better,” Regyri said, staring not at me now, but seeming to measure the bulkhead with her gaze. “This is going to be amazing.”
“What is?”
“The window,” she said. “Right there. Facing forward.”
“How are you going to do that?” I asked.
“I visited Zoya’s grandparents before Madoka died. They lived in a hollowed-out asteroid. Big sucker. Maybe a kilometer long. They had windows in the living quarters. Endlessly fascinating to sit on the sofa and look out into space. I loved it.” She glanced at me, her eyes all but dancing in her excitement. “Konstantin, Zoya’s grandfather, had installed these high-definition displays all around the inside of the living quarters. He fed them from cameras mounted on the outside of the rock.”
I spun to look at the bulkhead, picturing in my mind what that might look like. “She ordered a big high-definition display?”
“Not just big. Huge. I didn’t even know they came that big. I asked at the time if we had a bulkhead big enough to mount it on outside of the spine,” she said. “You know that little ‘I’ve got a secret’ smile she has? That’s all I got besides ‘You’ll know it when you see it.’”
“What are the logistics of this?” I asked.
“You’re asking how soon I can get it installed?” she asked. Honestly she looked as delighted as I felt.
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes.”
“I can hang it in less than a stan. Getting it connected? Do we have cameras on the hull?”
“Maybe,” I said. I sat at the console and brought up the yard notes. I paged through the hull exterior work orders and found one for sixteen exterior hull-mounted cameras with a specification note reference. The link took me to a specification page showing the access information, reference to the camera controls, and a note. “For when you get your head out of your ass and begin to look forward instead of back. -MS.”
I sat back in my chair staring at the screen. “They were installed in the yard,” I said. “I’ll forward the access information to you.”
“This is going to be amazing,” Ms. Regyri said. “I’ll be right back.”
I sat there staring at the note, lost in a tangle of thoughts and feelings, until Ms. Regyri dragged a stupendously large box into the cabin with the help of Mr. Dent and Mr. Harris. The sheer comical size of it made me laugh. It took all of us, with the help of Ms. Usoko who came to see what the commotion was about, just to get it out of the packaging and into position on the bulkhead.
Ms. Usoko and I stepped back to watch as Ms. Regyri worked with her crew to get the beast attached and powered.
“She’s good,” I said.
“You have no idea,” Ms. Usoko said. “When we graduated and got chased out of Port Newmar, it was just the two of us in an exploration scout. She’s come a long way since then.”
I glanced over at her. “And you?”
She shrugged. “All I ever wanted to was to sail.”
“Not run the richest company in the Western Annex?” I asked.
She made a rude noise. “You sign reports. You go to meetings. You have to deal with lawyers, accountants, and newsies. You make decisions that might eventually trickle down to the people who do the work. Here, I can see that the things I do matter in real ways. People’s lives are made better, or at least not worse. The ship stays on course. The crew earns a share. I can help make that happen. Directly.”
“You’re a romantic,” I said.
She laughed and nodded at the screen. “You’re the one getting a window put in so you can look out any time you want.”
I laughed with her.
Ms. Regyri dug around in the discarded packaging and returned with a remote.
The screen access menu popped up as soon as she powered it up and she scrolled through the options until she found “cam1-fwd.” The view from the bow flooded the screen.
We all just stood there.
“Holy crap,” Mr. Dent said.
“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Dent,” I said.
He suddenly seemed to come to his senses and gave me a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Captain. No offense.”
“None taken, Mr. Dent.” I started to laugh. It was brilliant. I couldn’t believe it. “This is perfect.”
Ms. Regyri waved at the trash littering the cabin floor. “Mr. Dent? Mr. Harris? A hand with this if you please.”
They folded the larger pieces of packaging around the smaller bits and soon had the area policed well enough that the only residue left was small enough for a broom and swab.
Ms. Usoko left without me noticing. Not surprising, since I had a hard time pulling my attention away from the view. The two crewmen piled the rubbish onto the grav pallet they’d used to bring the screen up from aft and towed it away for disposal.
“That should do it, Skipper,” Ms. Regyri said.
I looked over at her, her face turned to the screen—an almost childlike delight evident in her smile and the glow in her eyes. “Thank you, Ms. Regyri.”
She glanced at me and gave me a shy shrug. “Thank Margaret. She’s the one who set this all up.” She looked around the cabin before picking up her tool box. “Looks like they got it all.” She gave me another glance and took a look at the screen. “I better get aft and make sure my people are playing nice together.” She stopped at the cabin door to pull it closed behind her on the way out.
I looked at the door for a few moments, pondering Ms. Regyri’s words. Margaret Stevens had set it all up. I wondered how far back her influence went and just what, exactly, Admiral Stevens might have set in motion.
I turned to peer into my new “window” and wondered what I might see looking forward.
About The Author
Nathan Lowell has been a writer for more than forty years, and first entered the literary world by podcasting his novels. His science-fiction series, Trader’s Tales From The Golden Age of the Solar Clipper, grew from his long time fascination with space opera and his own experiences shipboard in the United States Coast Guard. Unlike most works which focus on a larger-than-life hero (prophesied savior, charismatic captain, or exiled prince), Nathan centers on the people behind the scenes—ordinary men and women trying to make a living in the depths of space. In his novels, there are no bug-eyed monsters, or galactic space battles, instead he paints a richly vivid and realistic world where the “hero” uses hard work and his own innate talents to improve his station and the lives of those of his community.
Dr. Nathan Lowell holds a Ph.D. in Educational Technology with specializations in Distance Education and Instructional Design. He also holds an M.A. in Educational Technology and a BS in Business Administration with a minor in marketing. He grew up on the south coast of Maine and is strongly rooted in the maritime heritage of the sea-farer. He served in the USCG from 1970 to 1975, seeing duty aboard a cutter on hurricane patrol in the North Atlantic and at a communications station in Kodiak, Alaska.
He currently lives in the plains east of the Rocky Mountains with his wife and two daughters.
Awards for Nathan’s Books
2011 Parsec Award Winner for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Owner’s Share
2011 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (short form) for The Astonishing Amulet of Amenartas
2010 Parsec Award Winner for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Captain’s Share
2009 Podiobooks Founder’s Choice Award for Captain’s Share
2009 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for
Double Share
2008 Podiobooks Founder’s Choice Award for Double Share
2008 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Full Share
2008 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for South Coast
Learn More At:
The Solar Clipper Diary
NathanLowell.com
Twitter: @nlowell
By Darkness Forged (Seeker's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper Book 3) Page 36