I looked around at the exhausted expressions. Even Ms. Sharps and her gang from the galley looked tired.
“Any questions?” I asked.
Bentley raised his hand.
“Mr. Bentley?”
“Any estimate on when we’ll leave for Dree?”
“I’m hoping we’ll be getting underway within the next few days. I’d like to give Chief Stevens a chance to make sure that we can make it to Dree alive before we undock. That’s just my personal preference.”
I looked to Ms. Sharps. “Evening mess?”
“Evening mess will be served at 1800, sar. Nothing fancy, but we got a shipment in this morning and we’ll have another tomorrow.”
“Excellent.” I turned to the crew. “All right. I need three watch sections. First watch gets set at 1800, just like a real ship. It’ll be the first watch this ship has seen in over two stanyers, and I expect everybody to do their jobs to the best of their abilities. If you have a problem you can’t solve, tell somebody. If you see something you don’t understand, ask somebody. If you find yourself in a situation that you feel is dangerous, make sure somebody knows. And if you find yourself alone in the night, shut up and stand your watch.”
They laughed.
“You’ve all heard enough pep talks, so you don’t need to hear one from me. Remember the best one you ever heard and pretend I’m saying it to you now. I’ve got work to do and so do you.” I turned to Al. “Carry on, Ms. Ross.”
I left the mess deck to my crew and climbed the ladder to the cabin. I did have work to do, but mostly it consisted of getting out from under foot so my officers could do their jobs. I ran a finger across the stars that Fredi had given me and wondered where she was, what she was doing.
Chapter Forty-Two
Breakall System:
2374-August 18
It took Chief Stevens four more days to get the last of the diagnostics completed and decide the ship was spaceworthy. We’d sold the hydraulic fluid and paid off the docking fees.
That cargo handler brought his son by on his birthday. We weren’t able to give him a tour but answered his questions about maybe signing The Articles when he came of age. To do that effectively, we needed to show him areas of the ship like the bridge, the engine room, berthing areas and the galley. He shared lunch mess with the crew and Sharps even made him a little happy birthday cake to celebrate. His father took digitals of him sitting in the captain’s chair on the bridge. My hat was too large for him, but it was adorable.
Even after our big cleaning spree, people kept coming to the lock with their sponges. They wanted to know if we needed any more help. I had to leave standing orders for the brow watch to thank them kindly but assure them that they’d cleaned enough.
Murphy, a spec two ship handler who seemed to have some grasp of reality beyond beer and boys, told me about one guy who asked and then started crying when she turned him away. “Not in a blubbery way, sar. He just looked really sad and these tears started running down his face. He thanked me real polite and walked away up the dock.”
“Sponge number one?” I asked.
“I don’t know, sar. He had a sponge, but I didn’t see the number.”
I left standing orders that if sponge number one ever came back to page me, but he never did. I looked up his name and address in Pip’s records. He worked in cargo handling down on one of the lower decks. I never followed through on looking him up, but something about him stuck with me. Bothered me in a way I couldn’t really get a handle on.
When the tugs pulled us out of the dock, I thought of him. A crowd had gathered on the observation deck above our dock. I couldn’t see very well through the glare off the station’s skin but I thought a few people waved. I wondered if he was up there, waving to us the way he’d never been able to wave to his daughter. I had no way to signal back, but in all my stanyers in space, docking and undocking at orbitals around the Western Annex, that was the first time I ever noticed people waving good-bye.
“Captain, tugs report we’re clear of the station and ready to push out for the safety perimeter,” Al said.
“Thank you, Ms. Ross. Steady as you go.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Steady as you go.”
I rode out in the communications console instead of the captain’s chair. I kept track of ship’s systems and communications traffic while the chief watched over the engine room in person. Al held down the duty watch station and a spec one ship handler with the improbable name of Horatio Jones sat at helm. Pip joined us and watched from one of the spare seats. I’m sure it was a sight he’d seen as often as I had, but the expression on his face still held a sense of wonder, of awe. I wondered if mine did.
In the week or so we spent on Breakall, we’d gotten our watch sections straightened out. I knew the names of the crew at least well enough to recognize their name tags at a distance even if I didn’t actually know their faces. Twenty-seven crew was more than I’d worked with since leaving the Tinker. After working with a tractor crew, the ship seemed practically crawling with hands even though we were at half our allocation.
I keyed the travel permit notice into the beacon so ships spotting us would know we were running short-handed on the way to the yard. I set it for automatic broadcast at the required interval. I’d had to look it up because it had been so long since I’d been third mate, I’d forgotten what the interval was.
The tugs slipped us through station traffic and got us lined up in less than half a stan, then signaled they were ready to let us go under our own power. “Tugs report we’re clear of station traffic, Ms. Ross.”
“Thank you, Captain. Should I notify the chief?”
“If you please, Ms. Ross.”
I heard her tapping on her console for a moment. “Chief Stevens reports we’re ready to light off the kickers, Captain.”
I watched the tugs’ links on our systems board until they’d cast us loose. “Tugs have released us. Helm, ahead one quarter on my mark.”
“Aye, aye, on your mark, ahead one quarter, Captain.”
I stood and walked to the rear of the bridge to watch the tugs fall away astern. I let them get well clear. “Mark,” I said.
“Ahead one quarter, sar.”
At the stern I saw just a flickering of light as the kickers ignited and started pushing us out to the safety limit where we’d be able to raise sail and begin our passage in earnest. We still had a couple of stans to go before we got there and not a lot to do on the way.
I planted myself in the captain’s chair and glanced at Al, who seemed to be absorbed in the minutiae of making sure we stayed on course.
The shadow under the helm’s chair caught my eye. My memory overlaid the first time I’d seen it, hung over the after side of the bridge, peering in through the armorglass at the tragedy within. I remembered all the bodies. I remembered the smell. The sense of helplessness that filled me then came back and threatened to overwhelm me.
Never in all the time since had I ever imagined I’d be back on this ship, sitting in the captain’s chair.
Pip shifted in his seat to look at me. I could just make out his white hair and goatee and the twinkle of his silver earring in the dim light of the consoles. His teeth flashed in a grin and I found myself smiling back. He’d been right. I had been afraid.
I glanced behind me and looked at the orbital already shrinking away. For a moment I remembered the sapphire daggers that had pierced me so tenderly and felt my chest rise and fall in a sigh. Then I remembered the man in a tatty coat, wet to his elbows, scrubbing the bulkhead in the spine as if washing the face of his child after dinner.
“All I could think of was my Em out there on a ship,” he’d said.
I straightened around in my seat and faced forward. I didn’t look at the stain, but I felt the pressure of all their deaths. The helmsman, the duty watchstander. The crew in their bunks and the messenger in the spine. All dead. All lost, because somebody took a short cut.
I’d been so quick t
o judge. To call it stupid. To vent my anger against the forces that put the crew in a position to take desperate chances.
I remembered the sapphire daggers that had stopped me from cutting a corner, from taking a chance that might have left us smeared across two dozen square kilometers of frozen rock all for the sake of a few credits.
“Never again,” I said. “Never again.”
“Captain?” Al asked.
“How far to the safety perimeter, Ms. Ross?”
“Couple of stans at the current velocity, Captain.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ross. Helm, ahead full.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Ahead full.”
The ship shook slightly as the massive engines drank fuel and spit fire behind us, pushing us into the Deep Dark. We rode along in near silence, the engine’s vibration keeping us company as the ship surged through the cold.
Finally, Al said, “We’re coming up on the safety perimeter, Captain.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ross. Please notify Chief Stevens to secure the engines, and prepare to hoist the mains.”
“Aye, aye, sar. Secure engines and prepare to hoist the mains, sar.”
I felt the rumble from the engines die out as we coasted along.
“We are clear of the safety perimeter, Captain.”
“Very well, Ms. Ross. Raise the mains, extend the keel.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Raising mains and extending keel.”
“Helm, lock course.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Lock course.” Jones said. “Helm responding and course locked, sar.”
“Very good, Mr. Jones. Secure from navigation stations, Ms. Ross. Set normal watch. I believe first section has the honors.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. Securing from navigation stations. First section has the watch.”
I gave her a tick or three to make the required announcements and settle back into her seat. We sat there in the quiet for a few moments more. After weeks of frantic activity, I had very little to do. I savored the moment. With a glance at the chronometer I realized I had time for a nap before I had to relieve the watch. I stood and headed down the ladder. “See you in four stans, Ms. Ross.”
“Sleep well, Captain.”
For the first time in a very long time, I thought perhaps I might. In a few weeks, we’d jump to Dree. A few weeks beyond that, we’d settle the ship in the docks. I had been there at the end of the tragedy and it seemed somehow fitting that I should be there to finally put all the ghosts to rest.
Something about that idea gave me a sense of peace.
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
Table of Contents
Chapter One Port Newmar: 2374, May 25
Chapter Two Port Newmar: 2374, May 25
Chapter Three Port Newmar: 2374, May 26
Chapter Four Port Newmar: 2374, May 28
Chapter Five Port Newmar: 2374, May 28
Chapter Six Port Newmar: 2374, May 29
Chapter Seven Port Newmar: 2374, May 30
Chapter Eight Port Newmar: 2374, June 3
Chapter Nine Port Newmar: 2374, June 4
Chapter Ten Port Newmar: 2374, June 5
Chapter Eleven Port Newmar: 2374, June 6
Chapter Twelve Port Newmar: 2374, June 6
Chapter Thirteen Port Newmar: 2374, June 7
Chapter Fourteen Port Newmar: 2374, June 7
Chapter Fifteen Port Newmar: 2374, June 7
Chapter Sixteen Port Newmar: 2374, June 8
Chapter Seventeen Port Newmar: 2374, June 9
Chapter Eighteen Port Newmar: 2374, June 9
Chapter Nineteen Port Newmar: 2374, June 9
Chapter Twenty Diurnia Orbital: 2374, June 23
Chapter Twenty-One Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 1
Chapter Twenty-Two Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 2
Chapter Twenty-Three Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 2
Chapter Twenty-Four Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 2
Chapter Twenty-Five Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 3
Chapter Twenty-Six Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 3
Chapter Twenty-Seven Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 8
Chapter Twenty-Eight Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 8
Chapter Twenty-Nine Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-One Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-Two Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-Three Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-Four Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-Five Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-Six Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-Seven Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-Eight Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 9
Chapter Thirty-Nine Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 10
Chapter Forty Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 10
Chapter Forty-One Breakall Orbital: 2374, August 10
Chapter Forty-Two Breakall System: 2374-August 18
About The Author
In Ashes Born (A Seeker's Tale From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) Page 33