“Does this tray look clean to you, Mr. Wang?” he asked, holding the tray up for me to see.
He had an odd look on his face but before I could answer, he flung it down on the tiled decking. The metal rang like a bell, bouncing and clattering from the momentum of his throw. Apones sat bolt upright in his chair. He looked much more awake. Not happy, but awake.
“I think it’s dirty now, Mr. Vorhees,” I said when the clangor died down enough to speak over.
He picked it up and considered. “I think you’re correct, Mr. Wang.”
He crossed to the galley door and put the tray on the counter just inside. “Penny, would you put that into the washer for me?”
I heard her laughing in the empty galley.
“Of course, Mr. V,” she said with a giggle.
“I think I’m ready now, Mr. Wang. Shall we go?”
I led the way off the mess deck, and I stuck my head in the office door on the way out, but Burnside wasn’t there. I suspected he was in his bunk sleeping, but I didn’t say anything to Mr. Vorhees about it. At the lock, Mallory was alert, more or less, and nodded politely when we came up.
“The OOD isn’t in the office, so if you’d be so kind as to note that? I’ll be down on the Oh-one with Mr. Vorhees for a stan or so.”
“Of course, sar,” he said and did so as the lock was opening.
“All quiet overnight?” I asked him by way of idle chitchat.
“Very, sar,” he said, but winked.
John Vorhees may have been an engineman, but he had the makings of a great chef. What he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. I have to give him credit. When we went to the chandlery on the Oh-one Deck, I led him back to the galley supplies. There, in the back corner of the complex, we found just about everything from soup spoons to nut crackers. The bigger items like ranges and refrigeration units were represented by catalog but there was a fully stocked spice locker.
For the better part of a stan, I went through the basics with him. He knew the difference between spices and herbs, and the advantages of whole over ground, but what he lacked was an understanding of how to use them. As we went through bales of herbs and tubs of spice, the scents and textures took me back to the Lois McKendrick and I couldn’t help but think of Cookie. He collected his spices from all over the quadrant and some of them were his own secrets. I knew I couldn’t hope to match his level of expertise, but I could at least get John Vorhees started with a few basics.
We each carried a pair of bags when we left. It wasn’t a lot and it was nothing spectacular, but it was the basics—all the things he’d need to get started with learning how they all worked with foods and in enough quantity to make it back to Diurnia. His grin lit up the lift.
It was no big deal to get the bundles back aboard and checked in. There were special mass allotment accounts for food stuffs, and these definitely qualified. We went back to the galley and I helped him set up his pantry—scooping some of the contents of larger containers into smaller canisters for use while cooking, lining up the herbs and spices in groups and families so the cinnamon and nutmeg weren’t mixed with the peppercorns.
When we got done he started putting together a fish stock for the lunch buffet and browning some meat for a pasta dish. His initial instinct was to try them all, and I had to convince him to master a few first. I reminded him that we’d have ten and a half weeks to play with the rest on the way back to Diurnia.
I steered him toward a bit of tarragon and a few bay leaves for the soup stock and had him lace the meat with basil and oregano. A quick dusting of garlic powder brought out the aroma of the meat just that little bit more.
“When we get back to Diurnia, we’ll look for some whole garlic,” I told him. “The flavor adds so much more when it’s freshly diced.”
I left him chortling to himself in the galley and the smell of the browning meat wafted throughout the passageways. I had time for a little run before I needed to relieve Mr. Burnside. So I headed for my workout clothes and the gym.
I wanted to work up a good appetite.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
BREAKALL ORBITAL
2358-SEPTEMBER-10
At 11:40 I reported to the office to take the watch. Burnside was there and grunted when I relieved him. I don’t think he even realized I wasn’t Arletta. He just walked out of the office and headed into the ship. Ulla must have been watching the passageway because she came in as soon as he was gone.
“This is going to be different,” she said with a smile. “It’s been so long since I stood watch with anybody but Ms. Novea.”
“Well, I hope it won’t be too different. It’s still port side OOD watch, and if we’re lucky, nothing will happen.”
She laughed. “Well, I can study then. Is it okay if I study in here?”
“Sure. I’m not very good company, but you’re welcome to stay, if you like. I should go see how Mr. Betts is doing before I get too settled, but be my guest.”
She settled into a side chair and pulled out her tablet.
I went to check on the brow watch and found him going over the logs from last night. “Any problems, Mr. Betts?”
He smiled when he looked up. “No, sar. Just looking to see who came in really late.”
I chuckled. “One must find one’s amusement wherever possible on the brow watch, eh, Mr. Betts.”
“Yes, sar,” he agreed. After a moment he added, “Sar? Can I ask? Did we get a new cook?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
He lifted his nose and sniffed delicately. “Whenever I open the lock, I get this scent of food that wafts out. Do you smell it, sar?”
I focused, and sure enough, the delicate fish and the robust oregano and basil aromas floated at just the edges of my awareness.
“Oh yes, that would be Mr. Vorhees. He picked up some fresh herbs and spices this morning after breakfast.”
“I hope it’s almost time for lunch,” he said with feeling. “That smells wonderful.”
We shared a laugh and a knowing grimace over the quality of the fare aboard the Billy.
“Well, I just wanted to stop by. Ms. Nart is in the office, but I suspect she’ll be relieving you for lunch soon.”
“Thanks for checking on me, sar,” he said with a grin, then added, “You’re not going to try to add me to your harem are you, sar?”
“I have no plans in that regard, Mr. Betts,” I told him seriously. “You’ll be the first to know if I change my mind.”
“I appreciate your consideration, sar. Ms. Jaxton speaks highly of you.”
“That woman is dangerous, Mr. Betts. You mark my words.”
“She likes you, too, sar,” he said, and I headed back into the ship.
Twelve on, twelve off for an in-port watch schedule is hard. Logically, I knew I was trading days off and in reality I’d be getting a thirty-six stan break back from it and I probably wouldn’t be standing another OOD watch until we got back to Diurnia. The small stub of watch just before we got underway hardly counted. Still, the ship’s office felt pretty small by the time I got back to it.
On the other hand, I got a new group of people to work with, and I already knew Ms. Nart was a lively companion, and Mr. Betts certainly seemed to be cut from the same cloth. Moreover, we were about to try Mr. Vorhees’s newest culinary masterpieces.
I stopped at the office and stuck my head in.
“Ms. Nart? I believe it’s time for lunch,” I said.
She smiled and closed her tablet. “I hope so, sar, that smell has had me drooling for the last stan.”
Apparently we weren’t the only ones who’d noticed, because there was a larger than normal crowd waiting for the buffet to be set up. The obligatory cold meats and cheese platter was already in place along with a basket of breads and rolls. When the clock struck noon, Ms. Davies brought out the fish soup and slipped the large serving dish into a warmer. Mr. Vorhees brought out a large baking dish of meat and pasta and put that in a chafing dish
with a rollback cover. They added a platter of cookies on the end of the buffet and signaled us to begin. I waited for the watch standers to fill their trays and then got in line with the rest of the crew.
The soup was a lovely, clear broth with some flakes of white fish and small cubes of potato. Green onions floated on the surface and the tarragon added a delicate anise flavor to the bouquet coming off the top of the pot. The pasta was baked with a meat and tomato sauce that, when seasoned with basil, oregano, and garlic, became something close to ambrosia. I noticed that nobody was eating the cold meats and cheeses, but several added crusty rolls to their trays.
I didn’t linger in the line, just took a portion and moved on. Taking a seat at a table to the side, I invited Ms. Nart to join me. Her eyes gleamed as she placed the tray on the table and leaned over to savor the aroma of the food. I looked up in time to see Fredi come into the mess deck, assess the situation, and get into line herself. She saw me looking and waved while she waited for her turn at the soup. I nodded to the seat beside me, and she smiled broadly. It wasn’t a crowd, as mess deck meals go, but with almost fifteen people eating lunch, it might have been a record for in-port meals on the Billy.
Fredi came over and sat with Ulla and me.
“Ishmael, this is a marvelous idea. I meant to tell you before. With so few people aboard, it’s absurd for us to eat in the wardroom. This is so much more festive,” she said with a smile.
Ms. Nart was working methodically through her soup and seemed to be enjoying it greatly. “How did he do this, sar? This is wonderful.”
I took a sip and tested the flavors.
“If I had to guess, Ms. Nart, I’d say he used a normal fish stock, added a bit of poached mouta and some diced potatoes, and seasoned it with salt, pepper, and a hint of tarragon, to give it a little bite.”
She blinked at me. “That was a guess, sar?”
I shrugged. “I’ve some knowledge in the culinary arts.”
“I’ll bet you can cook, too,” she said, returning to her tray and moving on to the pasta bake.
Fredi leaned in on the other side.
“You need to tell me how you did this?” she said quietly.
“Did what?” I asked back, just as quietly.
“This,” she nodded at the tray.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said. “I just helped Mr. Vorhees realize that being a baker is one thing, and being a chef is another, but they really have a lot of things in common.”
“And you took him out to buy the spices,” she said with a shrewd look.
“Well, yes, I had a few minutes this morning.”
She chuckled. “A few minutes before you had to cover Arletta’s watch?”
Ulla finished her tray and had tomato sauce on her nose. She giggled and wiped it off. “I have to go relieve Arnie, sars. He’s not going to believe it.”
With that she scooted off, taking her dirty tray with her and leaving us alone at the table.
“You know that David is going to punish you for this, don’t you?” Fredi asked as she broke open one of the crusty rolls.
“Yes, I suspect so. It’s harder to terrorize a motivated crew.”
“Not only that, you’re showing the crew that officers can be people.”
“You think so?”
She nodded and addressed her soup again. “Yes, and by being people, officers aren’t scary.”
“We’re not? I always found officers to be very scary. Alys Giggone scared me silly.”
Fredi got a funny half smile on her face. “Yes, well, she also got you into the academy.”
“Point taken,” I agreed and finished off the last of the baked pasta. “Did you ever meet Benjamin Maxwell?”
“Oh, yes. Do they still scare the greenies with the story that he’s some kind of super spy and moves mechanically so he doesn’t inadvertently kill anybody?”
I laughed. “Well, I don’t know about still, but they did to me. Why? It’s a pretty effective story.”
“The true ones always are more effective,” she said with a little smile.
“You mean…?” I found I couldn’t finish the question.
“Oh, yes. Brilliant man. Kind, gentle, caring, and absolutely deadly. Somebody you need to have on your side.”
I found myself staring and pulled my eyes back in.
“How do you know him?” I asked when I could get my tongue wrapped around a thought again.
“He was number seven,” she said softly. There was a kind of dreamy smile on her face. She saw me looking at her and for the first time since I’d known her, she giggled. “What? You didn’t have fun at the academy? Nobody there you’ll look back on when you get to be my age and think ‘more’ about?”
She caught me with that and shocked a laugh out of me.
We sat there having coffee and watching the crew enjoy dinner. It was very nice.
“So, tell me? Why didn’t you go for captain?” I asked as the coffee cups ran low.
“Why? Isn’t cargo first important enough?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye. “I like being cargo first.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…” I paused trying to put my thoughts together. “You know I’m not a spacer, right?”
She nodded, holding her coffee cup in both hands, her elbows on the table and letting the warm moisture waft up and over her nose.
“Well, when I started noticing people around the orbitals and such, I always thought that when you look at a captain…you know they’re a captain. You don’t need to see a uniform, you can just tell.”
She turned her head in my direction with a thoughtful frown. “Interesting, but how does that relate?”
“Well, I never met a captain who didn’t look it—until I got here and met Captain Rossett. He’s the least captainly person I think I’ve ever seen. Makes me wonder if there are a lot of people I thought were accountants and dentists who are really clipper captains.”
She laughed and said, “No, I think you’re right. He’s not got what they used to call command presence in any great amount.”
“Yes, well. Remember that night when we had the problem with Penny. You headed down the passageway hell-bent-for-leather and I watched you go, thinking—clipper captain.” I glanced at her and she was staring into space. “So, I wondered why you never…you know…went for captain…” My voice trailed off at the end.
Her eyes were totally unfocused and she was a million miles away for just a few heartbeats before she smiled at me. I mean really smiled at me. It was wonderful. She leaned closer and said, “I did.”
The shock must have shown on my face because she gave me a little shushing expression.
“But—?” I started to ask.
A look from her quelled my voice but not my curiosity. “I sat for the test—even passed the interview. But I never wanted command. I felt I owed it to Alys to go as far as I could, but I like my little cargo world. I don’t know that I actually have the—whatever it is—confidence, maybe.”
She sipped her coffee thoughtfully and I could tell she was lost in thought again.
I turned back to my tray then, embarrassed that I’d made assumptions. Not sorry that I’d asked, not, but still a bit regretful.
From beside me she asked, “So, you thought I looked like a captain?”
I turned and looked into those deep green eyes and they were laughing.
“Yeah,” I said and I felt my eyes laughing back. “Yeah, I did.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
BREAKALL ORBITAL
2358-SEPTEMBER-10
After lunch, I settled into the office with a cup of coffee and a small pile of cookies. Ulla joined me and worked on her able spacer exam questions.
About 15:00 David Burnside stuck his head in the door. “This isn’t your watch! Where’s Arletta?” he growled.
“We traded,” I told him calmly. “She’ll relieve me at midnight and take the midwatch with my section.”
“Why?” he bark
ed.
“Because otherwise I’d stand twenty-four stans straight and it only seemed fair.”
Ulla was trying to crawl into her tablet.
“No, you little wise—” he stopped and seemed to notice Ulla for the first time. He took a deep breath. “Why have you swapped?”
“She had an all day appointment and couldn’t get it changed to tomorrow.”
“What kind of appointment?” he asked.
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”
He stood there for a few heartbeats trying to decide if I really did know but had decided against telling him. Instead, he turned on Ulla. “So, Ms. Nart?” he asked in a slimy voice. I knew the next bit was going to be ugly. “Is he trying to add you to his harem now?”
Ulla smiled most charmingly. “Oh no, sar,” she said in a wispy little girl voice that she used to devastating effect.
Burnside snorted a kind of derisive what-do-you-expect snort.
Then she added, “I’ve been a member of Mr. Wang’s harem since almost the beginning, sar.” She turned and looked adoringly at me.
Burnside turned a bit red under the ears and said through clenched teeth—like he was trying not to explode, “I’m going ashore. I’ll be back before my watch.”
Ulla continued to gaze winningly at me.
“Okay, Ms. Nart. He’s gone. You can knock off the act now.”
In a voice that was definitely not her wispy little girl voice, she answered, “Who’s acting?” She let a saucy little pause stretch out before adding a throaty, “Sar.”
I looked at her and caught the glimmer in her eyes. “You’ve been associating with Ms. D’Heng, haven’t you!”
“Yes, sar,” she said promptly and proudly. “She’s teaching me everything she knows.”
I shuddered. “I fear for the integrity of the crew, Ms. Nart.”
“This crew, sar?” she asked, as if taken aback by the very idea. “Integrity?”
Double Share: Solar Clipper Trader Tales Page 26