Tanager's Fledglings (The Tanager Book 1)

by Cedar Sanderson

  Stiffly, he inclined his head and they turned their backs to the room full of books. Jem felt a tingle between his shoulder blades and fought the impulse to look back. He didn’t relax until they were back into the hallway.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t find more.” Misha was happy, bouncy, not picking up on his dark mood which suited Jem just fine.

  He shook his head and smiled back. “I did enjoy seeing all the books. He has quite an impressive collection, but I note you didn’t get anything else either.” He took a deep breath, knowing what he said next would be presumptuous at best. “Your da is right, you shouldn’t come here alone.”

  Misha cocked her head to one side, just a little. Jem found it endearing, along with the puzzled expression on her face. “Why?”

  “There’s something odd about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but… Walter trusted my impressions of people. I know I can’t ask you… it’s a lot to ask, but…” Jem stumbled to a halt, unsure how to say what he felt.

  “It’s ok. I trust you. Besides, Da wouldn’t let me come alone, even though I begged, and…” She sighed. “I have no space for more books right now. I want…” She paused, then took a deep breath, coming to a stop. “I want to work on a ship. So I can’t have too much stowage.”

  Jem decided in a split second that he wouldn’t tell her about the conversation with Liam. “Most crew is allowed 40 kilos. It depends on the ship, though.”

  She cocked her head. “Do you have an allowance?”

  He nodded “I mostly have datagems. Above the ones we – ah, I – sell, that is.”

  She started walking again. “You miss your father.”

  “Walter… wasn’t my father. He adopted me.” Jem decided that the details weren’t important now, here. She wouldn’t understand.

  “You’re an orphan?”

  The look on her face… Jem looked, and then was sorry he had as he took in the pity in her eyes. “Yes.” He changed the subject. “Where are we meeting Gran Donovan?”

  Misha opened her mouth like she was going to pursue her line of questioning, and then closed it. Jem was relieved. He really didn’t want to talk about it.

  “We’ll find her at her booth, I think.” Misha led the way, a silence falling between them.

  Jem wasn’t sure if he’d ruined his chance to be friends, but decided that since he was leaving, and she was planning to ship out, it didn’t matter much. His head was fine with this. His chest was a little tight, though. He took a deep breath and put on a smile. Making the sale was the important thing, here.

  Misha chattered to both of them on the way to the Tanager. Jem answered shrewd questions from Gran Donovan as they walked. She wasn’t slow, even if she was an old lady. He palmed the lock and bowed them into the cargo hold. The woolies were in a temporary pen, ready to be shown off.

  Gran laughed out loud when she saw them, a deep belly laugh that startled him coming from such a small person. “At least they don’t have eight legs.” She said, reaching for the gate with a lifted eyebrow at Jem for permission.

  He nodded, saying “I told you…”

  Misha giggled. He met her eyes and started to laugh. “Maybe she would have liked them to have more legs?”

  Gran spent several minutes in the pen, handling the animals, while Misha and Jem recovered from the mutual fit of giggles. Jem leaned against the pen feeling much happier and companionable toward the girl. Really, he’d been behaving like an idiot around her, and he wasn’t sure why.

  Gran finally surfaced and paid attention to them again. “Well, boy.”

  “I can deliver them tomorrow early.” He said promptly.

  She stood there with her mouth open for a second, and then rewarded him with another one of those laughs.

  “Guess I can see why Walter chose you. You’ve a knack. Yes, I want them. If the price is right.”

  Fifteen minutes later, both of them satisfied with the rapid-fire bargaining they had engaged in, she fingerprinted his tablet and the bill of sale was done.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, lad.” She smiled at Misha. “Come on with me, then, girl.”

  Misha looked surprised. “I thought Jem might join Da and I for supper?”

  Jem shook his head, regretful. “Sorry. I’d love to, but I really have to prep the woolies for transport and I won’t have time.”

  Gran nodded. She’d known this, he could tell.

  Misha pulled a face. “Drat. Well, don’t you leave tomorrow without dropping into the shop.”

  Jem promised. He shook Gran’s hand, and then, awkwardly, Misha’s. He really hadn’t thought about kissing her until just then, but after she left he went through the motions on autopilot, unable to stop thinking about just how she would feel in his arms.

  Chapter 8: The Next Stop

  Jem left Tassie behind reluctantly. He sat on the bridge staring at the receding station for a long time, his fingertips tracing the softly furred skull of his companion who seemed to understand his mental distress and leaned into his touch. Jem really wished there was a certain happy voice giving commentary on the departure….

  He took a deep breath. He’d only known her for a few days, and he’d come to a sort of understanding with her father about the next stop, in a season, when Liam seemed to think Misha would be ready to fly the nest. Of course, there was the small matter of hiring crew…

  Jem shook himself out of his reverie and looked down at the puppy, who panted up at him, his pink tongue ridiculously long for his size. “Two seasons. I can’t do anything until I’m finished with Walter’s instructions. Honor and duty first.”

  He snorted softly to himself. That sounded trite, when he said it out loud. Like a storybook character.

  “Gotta do what needs done.” That was better. Just like Walter’d say. Had said. Jem sighed. Chores were the first thing that needed doing, once they were well away from the station. He’d left his information with Liam and Misha, and although he’d initially just had a thought of her writing him and him writing back, it felt good to know that someone was going to be checking up on him and would be worried if he didn’t check in when they expected him. And that was Liam, as much as Misha, who’d be coming to look for him. Liam walked with him to the Tanager, leaving Misha to clear from breakfast.

  Jem had apologized for taking Misha to the bookseller. “I was not trying to go around you, sir.”

  Liam shook his head firmly. “She told me where you were going, and you are a solid character.”

  “You barely know me.” Jem protested.

  “You’re not the only one who is a good judge of people.” Liam grinned, and had surprised Jem by pulling him into a bear hug.

  “Take care, now, boy.” Liam stepped back and nodded. “Seems like you’re part of the family already.”

  Jem had been unsure, but happy about it. “I’ll write. I…” He stopped, not really sure what to say.

  “Go on with you, then.” Liam laughed. “No point in getting gushy.”

  Jem had ducked into the hatch, and the last thing he’d seen of Liam was his wide grin and jaunty wave at the closing door.

  So now he needed to do some real work, before he contemplated breaking his word, and the deal, and turning back. For the first time in a while, he was lonely, and the puppy didn’t help much. Jem felt a nudge on his foot and looked at the pup.

  Misha had found a ball somewhere and gifted it to the floppy-eared dog. The dog in turn had fallen head over heels for the girl who taught him the joy of ‘fetch’ and toys. It hadn’t occurred to Jem before, but now this was a welcome distraction. Throwing the ball on the bridge, though, was contraindicated.

  “Sorry, boy. Have to wait a while.”

  He checked the board. All was green and good to go.

  A couple hours later, he was finally able to give the pup his game, which evolved into a running chase and throw and hide while the pup ‘seeked’ first the ball, then Jem. They were both panting when Jem finally collapsed onto the couch in the sh
ip’s lounge and the puppy scrambled up next to him and put his head on the man’s stomach.

  “Whew. I think we need to do more of that, boy. I’ve been sitting around way too much.” Jem ruffled the puppy’s ears. The pup drooled and wet through his shirt. Jem sighed. That was a sign of love, he supposed.

  True to his word, Jem started to evolve a workout routine while they crept to the jump point, three days out from Tassie station. The puppy was enthusiastic about it, although mostly he cramped Jem’s style. Jem stayed tired from the physical efforts, chores, and delving into gravitics math. He managed to wall up thoughts of Misha… and of the man in the Yellow Shirt, whose package was on the list for the next stop. Jem didn’t want to think about the ramifications of that package.

  Flinders was named for a tiny island, which on Earth was located near Tasmania and Australia. Jem had looked it up. He still wasn’t sure how Australia had become the planet Oz, but Flinders was every bit as difficult a place to live as the Earthly version if his research materials were accurate. It wasn’t a planet, or a space station. The construct had grown up around a rather large asteroid, almost moonlet-sized, and it was… messy.

  The jump point was close, at least, since the gravity well of a planetary system didn’t apply in this region of space. Which wasn’t to say, Jem mused as he bent over his board making adjustments, that there wasn’t any influence from gravity. Anything had gravity. Accounting for it made a pilot’s life interesting. Fortunately, the computers could handle most of it. Areas like the space around Finders were charted thoroughly, and updated often.

  Jem glanced away from his board. The pup was asleep, his paws twitching a little, his body a relaxed puddle of fur on the roughened metal floor of the bridge. Jem smiled and went back to his vigilant monitoring of the local gravity. Charting moving objects was about as accurate as you’d expect. He’d keep watching until they were docked. Planetary and station approaches were easier, since sweepers kept the space clear for traffic. Flinders had no time for that nonsense. They had money to make.

  Jem didn’t mind. He’d be taking some of that money into his accounts shortly. Since Flinders was so cluttered, he was one of the few traders who made it a regular stop… the board shrilled a proximity warning.

  Jem reacted instantly. Walter had drilled him for hours on this, and now he was moving almost without thinking about what he was doing. The Tanager was not a fast ship, and dodging a rock wasn’t her best trick. Walter had tweaked sensors on the old girl. He’d told Jem about it, and later, Jem finally knew enough about how they worked to understand. Right this moment, though, he wasn’t contemplating signal returns. Only which way to move that wouldn’t break his ship. Hitting the rock – or being hit, depending – counted as breaking. So did moving with too much thrust and wrenching internal supports.

  The weirdest part, he’d discovered early into his first voyage, is that inside the ship, you didn’t feel like you were moving. He was wound up tight, his fingers aching with the force of their impact on buttons. But his body was as still as if he were sitting on a planet. The puppy slept through the whole thing.

  When he finally was able to lean back, watching the object track past them by a cool kilometer, Jem realized that it had only been a few minutes since he’d started the evasive maneuvers. He stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his back and neck muscles, but he didn’t leave the chair. They weren’t in the clear yet. He took a deep breath, a drink from the bottle of water at his side, and bent back over the board.

  Jem’s worst fear at the moment was that there would be a swarm of meteorites crossing his path to Flinders. They were rare in populated areas with tracking sensors spread in a comprehensive net, but here he only had the limited ones on the ship. He had a backup system, and if he saw signs of a swarm he’d deploy it.

  The backup system was expensive, and he didn’t want to use it if he didn’t have too. He had Flinders in his screens, now, slowly filling them up as the Tanager drew closer. Sensors indicated none of the tell-tale signs of a swarm, and Jem took a deep breath. They’d made it. Even Flinders kept this part of space clear. He toggled on the comm and broadcast a request for docking.

  Jem turned his head for the first time in what seemed like hours. The puppy was still asleep, his face almost covered by one ear. Jem chuckled, and then answered the comm squawk. Docking would need focus, but not the painful concentration he’d been feeling on the approach to the asteroid. After that, he could relax, and eat, before conducting business.

  Flinders, unlike most of his stops, was where Jem let it be known he was there, and then waited in the outer hold for business to come to him. There was no organized market here. There were restaurants, and bars - Jem had been in them - but he’d hawk his wares in the hold. And this is where the package that Dilar Moskvin had entrusted him with would change hands. Jem had made up his mind that if a second one was offered, he’d politely but firmly decline the honor.

  Docking clamps rang on the hull, and startled the pup awake. With a small woof, he bounded to his feet and stood there trying to look in every direction, his eyes wide. Jem laughed at him, and the pup relaxed, coming over for pats and reassurances. Jem stood up, feeling how his muscles were kinked and tight. He hobbled toward the living area, intent on food, a hot shower, and stretches, not necessarily in that order.

  The entry chime rang through the whole ship. Walter had rigged it, long before Jem joined him, so he’d hear it no matter where he was in the ship. Jem paused midstep, feeling the jolt of surprise and unease through his whole body. Now the puppy did start barking in earnest.

  “Hush!” Jem told him. “Stay here.”

  The puppy looked mutinous, but sat. Jem’s training had paid off, but he still closed the door behind him as he left the living area, making sure the pup couldn’t follow him. He was nearly to the hatch when the entry chime rang again. Jem gritted his teeth. It was louder here. He’d need to adjust that; it was painfully loud.

  He looked at the screen before opening the hatch to see who was so ungodly rushed he couldn’t wait. Jem’s heart sank when the man looked directly into the camera and smiled. Dilar Moskvin himself. Jem opened the hatch.

  “Howdy!” Moskvin stepped forward, and Jem stepped back instinctively. Moskvin walked past him and into the hold.

  “Hello,” Jem said. “I...”

  Moskvin interrupted him cheerfully. “Surprised to see me? I thought you might be. But I had a little errand in this sector of space, so I figured I’d drop by.”

  Jem clenched his teeth. He wasn’t sure why Moskvin made him so grumpy, but he did. At least this would be the last time he’d have to deal with him. “Give me a moment and I’ll get your package.”

  “Oh, sure, sure.” Moskvin waved a hand and looked around the hold. “I’ll just make myself comfortable. Got a chair?”

  “Not in here.” Jem wasn’t going to invite the man into the ship proper. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  The package was right where he’d put it, in the ship’s safe. He hadn’t bothered locking it, since he was the only one on board, but it was where small, valuable cargo went, and a logical place to put Moskvin’s package. Jem hefted it, grimacing at the small stasis box. He definitely wasn’t going to do this again.

  When he got back to the hold, Moskvin was on the far side of it, prowling along the wall staring at the bulkheads. Jem cleared his throat and held out the package. Moskvin came briskly toward him. Smiling.

  “Perfect!” he said, taking it in both hands.

  “I aim to please.” Jem did his best to keep his dislike out of his voice, aiming for cool and dispassionate.

  “Hm.” Moskvin twisted the box, and it popped open. He reached in and pulled out a strawberry, popping it in his mouth.

  Jem felt his jaw drop open. He blurted “Is that what you had me transport?” before he could stop himself.

  Moskvin laughed hard. “No,” he gasped after a minute, “it was my verity.”

  “Your what?�
� Jem knew what the word meant. He just didn’t know what Moskvin was talking about.

  “Truth-checker. If you’d have opened the box and seen it, you wouldn’t have reacted like that. And my snack would have gone bad.”

  “Are we done?” Jem said, feeling his face stiffen. He was having to really sit on his temper. Moskvin got to him, and he could feel the burn building in his chest as he tried not to yell and order the man off his ship.

  Moskvin shook his head. “If you mean with this...” He extracted a data gem from the pouch and tucked it into a pocket. “Yes. But I have something else I need you to do.”

  Jem started to shake his head as soon as he heard that but. “No, thank you.”

  Moskvin cocked an eyebrow. “Really? I mean, this was easy money, kid. All you had to do was stow it.”

  And talk to you, Jem thought. “It’s not about the money.”

  “Really.” Moskvin turned away and scanned the hold slowly, ostentatiously. Jem knew he was making a point. The hold was clean, but battered. Tanager was no longer a young ship, and he seriously doubted she had ever been pretty.

  “I appreciate the offer of trade, but...”

  Moskvin interrupted him like he hadn’t heard Jem speaking. “You know, a kid like you has a ship like this, people start to wonder how he’s got the money to keep flying. By himself.”

  Jem flinched. It was the second - no, third - time that he’d had his nose rubbed in his youth and loneliness in recent memory. “Are you threatening me?”

  Moskvin raised his hands, his eyes wide, playing for innocent. “No, no, not at all. Just trying to talk you into this. Easy money, kid. A milk run. Look, I know me ‘n you, we got off on the wrong foot.”

  Jem thought that was an understatement. The man had tried to talk him into something that smelled very fishy. Right now, Jem felt like Moskvin was at it again.

  Moskvin lowered his hands and sighed. “You got no idea how hard it is to find an honest man on the trader’s circuit. You’re an important asset for me - for Altressa.”