Milk Run (Smuggler's Tales From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) (31 page)

Natalya pondered that for several heartbeats and nodded. “Makes sense, Skipper.”

He gave her a wry smile with one eyebrow raised. “Thanks for believing I might actually know more about this than you do.”

Natalya felt her face get hot and she looked down at her hands. “Sorry, Skipper.”

“No hoo-hoo. Only way you learn is by asking. If I thought you were over the line, you’d be scrubbing the deck in the engine room.” He smiled at her.

“Thanks,” she said. “What was the other problem?”

“What other problem?”

“You said we might have a couple of problems.”

“Oh, yeah. The other problem is that Kondur might want to see for himself before he starts replacing stuff.”

“That’s assuming we make it back.”

Trask chuckled. “That’s always a consideration. Spotting that bus coupling malfunction probably saved our asses.” He stared into Natalya’s face. “We
all
have you to thank for that, not just Kondur. He’ll know and remember it.” He nodded at his console again. “So what’s on this list that you couldn’t fix even if we had it?”

Natalya brought the list up on her tablet and they dug in. By the time dinner mess came around, they’d whittled the list down to immediate priorities, a handful of nice-to-haves, and a big pile of wouldn’t-helps.

“You know there’s another problem I didn’t think of,” the captain said as he led Natalya to the wardroom.

“I thought the two you had were pretty good.”

“What happens if a freighter docks and places a replenishment order for almost a whole ship’s worth of spares in a single whack?” he asked.

“The chandlery celebrates?”

“I think it more likely that TIC spots the transaction records.”

“Why would they do that if they know the spares will be aboard?”

“They might like to know where the credits came from, but they probably already know that. They might like to know who’s on the ship that can drop so much in a single order. I suspect that they already know that, too. Or will, as soon as we dock and the little birds start singing.”

“I’m missing the point,” Natalya said. “I bet it’s something obvious.”

“A ship docks with almost bingo spares and commits to several hundred thousand credits to replace them. Seems to me TIC might want to have a look inside that ship and maybe a good look at the crew and officers to see if anybody’s on their watch lists.”

“Are there?”

“What? People aboard who are on their watch lists? Probably. I suspect you and Ms. Usoko might be.”

“We didn’t kill anybody.”

He stopped in the passageway and looked back at her. “That’s a good habit to have. Try to keep it if you can. I don’t think you’re what TIC will be most interested in.”

“What then?”

“I suspect they’d want to see if the rest of the ship was in as bad a shape as a full spares replenishment would suggest.”

“If we have TIC informers on board, wouldn’t they already know?”

Trask nodded and turned toward the wardroom again. “Yeah, but nothing like getting up-close and personal with a Mark One eyeball to tell you what you want to know.”

“And the goal is to attract as little attention as possible,” Natalya said.

“Point, Regyri.”

Chapter 33
Siren System: 2363, July 23

Captain Trask looked around the wardroom over the remains of breakfast. He smiled a little when he looked at Lyons and gave the man a short nod. “I’m planning on going to navigation stations around 0930. I don’t know what kind of reception we’ll get at the dock, but Moe doesn’t take kindly to strangers.”

Blanchard and Pritchard both offered chuckles while Lyons stared into his coffee cup.

“If we stay on plan, we’ll dock just before lunch. Will you be able to sign off, Joshua?” Trask asked, looking directly at Lyons.

“Yeah. Should be. Assuming they’ve got our can ready to go, we could be out of there in as little time as it takes their people to swap them.”

“Good. I’ll alert Moe and we’ll try to get out again this afternoon.” He looked at Blanchard. “Transit to Siren Orbital?”

“Maybe a week. We’ve matched orbit with Moe’s now but the orbital is inside us so we’ll have to dig into the primary gravity well a bit more.”

“All right then.” Trask looked at Natalya. “You’ve got that replenishment order ready?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good. When we get secured from navigation stations, forward it to the orbital via Moe’s link. And stay on ship’s power. We’ll top off tanks after we get to Siren.”

“Will do.”

Trask looked around the table. “Anybody got anything else?”

“I’m very much looking forward to visiting the orbital again,” Pritchard said.

“We’ll have a couple of days’ liberty, Steven. You’ll have your visit. Anybody with ship’s business?” Trask asked.

Nobody spoke for a few heartbeats.

“Let’s get at it.” Trask pushed back from the table and left the wardroom.

Pritchard followed him out.

“What was that about Moe and strangers?” Natalya asked.

Blanchard shook his head. “Nothing much. Moe has had some run ins with TIC and the CPJCT inspectors. She’s not happy when they’re visiting.”

“Whew,” Natalya said. “I thought the skipper meant we were the strangers.”

Lyons said, “Moe’s good people.”

Blanchard’s eyebrows flickered in response. “There aren’t many.”

“No, there aren’t,” Lyons said, pushing his coffee cup back from the edge of the table. “See you after we dock.” He left without so much as a backward glance.

“That was unusual,” Blanchard said. “You’re a good influence on him.”

“Me?” Natalya shook her head. “Personally, I think he’s just bored.”

Blanchard stared into his coffee mug. “Did he tell you his story?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.”

“That’s it?” Natalya asked.

Blanchard shrugged. “Josh has always had problems on these runs. He manages logistics for Kondur between.”

“That much he told me.”

“If the story’s true, the man’s bloody brilliant with keeping ships, stations, and outposts all supplied with what they need. You have to be a juggler to keep all those balls in the air.”

“Why wouldn’t it be true?”

“I’ve only ever seen him on the annual run. He’s always a mess.” Blanchard shrugged and looked at Natalya. “Always was, anyway. That conversation was the longest civil exchange he and I have had in three stanyers.”

“What is there for him to do?”

Blanchard shook his head. “What is there for any of us to do? We’re actors on a mobile stage. The play’s been written and we’re slotted into our roles.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do.”

“How can you? You’re plotting our course.”

Blanchard shook his head. “I’m just fiddling the numbers to get us where Kondur wants us to be when he wants us to be there. I’m good at that, but it’s just mechanics. Time, distance, velocity. The only uncertainty is when we jump and even that’s relatively small.”

Natalya shook her head. “I think you’re just jaded. You’ve done it so long, it’s second nature, like using a fork. The rest of us poor mortals can barely get the food into our mouths.”

“Maybe,” Blanchard said. After a few heartbeats he said, “Your friend Zoya is a piece of work.”

“How so?”

“She’s smart enough. Even capable enough. She could step into the second mate’s slot and handle the navigation without any problem.”

“So?”

“So everything else pushes her off-balance.”

“She’s a bit rigid. It’s one thing to know Toe-Hold space is out there, but to run your face into its bulkheads puts a different spin on things.”

“I’ve seen armor plating that’s less rigid than she is,” Blanchard said, a smile making it into almost a joke. “What do they teach about Toe-Hold space in the academy?”

“Basic history. Accurate as far as it goes, I think.”

“How would you know?”

“I spent most of my formative stanyers with my father. He’s been banging around the Western Annex for decades. He’d take me to places and tell me their stories. Stories I was required to validate, by the way. He’s a stickler for accuracy, too.”

“Where’d he take you?”

Natalya cradled her mug between her palms and thought back. “High Tortuga was fun. Mel’s place was … interesting.”

“How long ago were you at Mel’s?”

“I don’t remember. Ten stanyers, probably. It was one of the early trips.”

“Interesting how?”

“It was like a hive. People buzzing around. Everybody had some kind of deal going, something they’d be able to cash in on. Everywhere you looked, any time of day, people. To me it was crazy.”

“You didn’t find that at Dark Knight?”

“I haven’t spent that much time on station there. There’s a certain air of busy-ness, but nothing like the roiling waters at Mel’s.”

“What was your favorite?”

“High Tortuga. Their systems amazed me. If you could think of a way to look at data, they could make their system render that view.”

Bray stuck his head in from the galley. “Sars? May I clear? Diana wants to get the cleanup done before we dock.”

Natalya stood immediately. “I’m done. Thank you, Mr. Bray.”

Blanchard waved him in. “Have at it. I should go make sure we’re still on the approach track anyway.”

Natalya followed him out of the wardroom as Bray started piling dirty dishes in a tray.

The ship docked at Moe’s Mining at mid-morning. Natalya kept the kickers hot, but safed the sails and keel generators just as a matter of routine. By 1100, the ship was snugged in and waiting for the cargo swap.

Natalya’s tablet bipped with a summons to the cabin. She found the door open and all the officers inside.

“Good, Regyri. Come in,” Trask said waving her into the crowded cabin. “We’ve a bit of a problem.”

Natalya looked around at all the faces. Zoya looked slightly baffled. Blanchard looked like a particularly well-fed cat, but that was his normal expression. Lyons looked as dour as ever. Pritchard looked ever so slightly bemused, like a kid who’s just opened his birthday present and found it to be underwear.

“The issue is TIC,” Trask said. “They’re here on the station.”

“That is unexpected,” Pritchard said. “Will they want to inspect us?” His face had a pale and waxy sheen.

“Moe is keeping them busy for now, but we’ll want to do whatever we can to move on quickly.” Trask looked at Lyons. “How soon before they’ve swapped the cans?”

“At least another stan. Probably two.”

“Anything we can do to light a rocket under them?” Trask asked.

“Nothing I can do, no,” Lyons said. “Moe’s good. She’ll want to cover us as much as she can.”

Zoya said, “I have a suggestion.”

Trask nodded to her. “I’m listening.”

“Invite their command team for lunch.”

Pritchard made a short retching sound, but Blanchard’s smile widened.

Trask cocked his head to one side a bit as if to shake a loose piece into place in his skull. “Invite them for lunch?”

“It was just an idea.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad one. Tell me why.”

Zoya looked around at everybody once before facing Trask again. “If we sneak in, dump the can, and scoot, who knows what they’ll think. Maybe that we have something to hide.” She shrugged.

Lyons looked up at her. “Brilliant.”

Pritchard moved as if to step back. His face had gone pasty white and his hands fluttered like birds. “That’s madness.”

Trask shook his head slowly. “No. Lyons is right. It’s brilliant.” He looked at Lyons. “Get Moe on the line. Ask her how many in their command team. Unless they’re expecting trouble, they’ll only have a couple.”

Lyons nodded, pulling his tablet out even before the captain finished speaking.

Trask looked to Natalya. “Can you carry the engineering section?”

“Of course.”

“Hey, wait,” Pritchard said. “I’m the chief engineer here.”

Trask frowned at him. “You’re barely able to keep from pissing yourself. Stay out of the way.”

“Captain, I really must object,” Pritchard said, drawing himself up. “You need me—”

“I need you to follow orders,” Trask said, cutting Pritchard off in mid-wheeze. “Right now, we need to present our little performance of ‘just one of the gang’ to a TIC command field agent or two. What I need you to do is retire to your stateroom with a serious migraine.”