Milk Run (Smuggler's Tales From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper Book 1) (32 page)

Zoya shook her head. “Skipper?”

“Hit me,” Trask said.

“Migraine might be grounds for medical discharge. Not physically qualified. We need something less permanently debilitating.”

“Suggestions?”

Zoya looked to Natalya. “Nats? Something engine-y?”

Natalya closed her eyes and focused. “Burns,” she said. “Got too close to an overheated generator bus and the auto-doc put him on an isolation protocol against infection.” She opened her eyes to find Trask staring at her.

“Did you just make that up?” he asked.

“No, Captain. I’ve actually seen it. Wasn’t even that bad a burn. Normally the auto-doc would keep you in the pod until the pseudo-skin closed over the wound but it’s not required. As in the case of an officer who might need to be consulted but who shouldn’t be up and around people generally.”

Trask nodded. “Can you jigger the auto-doc to show that?”

“Sorry, Skipper,” Natalya said. “Beyond me.”

“I can,” Blanchard said. “System interface should let me into it to add a bit of a record, sealed for patient privacy, of course.”

“Of course,” Trask said dryly. “I’ll add a log record to that effect as well.”

“I could get into the auto-doc and you could seal me in,” Pritchard said.

Trask looked at him with the kind of odd regard one might have for a boot that had suddenly presented one with a weather report. “Unfortunately, I suspect even a TIC field agent would be able to see that you were perfectly well in the readouts, Steven. Maybe just stay in your stateroom?”

Pritchard opened his mouth as if to speak but the captain cut him off.

“It’s for the good of the ship, Steven. We need to sell this and right now, you’re not on your game, are you?”

Pritchard sighed. “Perhaps not.”

“Then would you please help us by playing your role?” Trask asked, his earlier impatience seemingly evaporating into the air. “It’s for the good of the ship.”

Pritchard straightened his tunic, rubbing his palms down the breast as if to smooth the fabric. “Of course. Good of the ship.” He looked up, bird bright and nodded. “Of course, Captain. Shall I go now and prepare?”

“I think that might be best. We’ll have one of the stewards bring you a tray. How’s that sound?”

“Very nice, Captain. Thank you.” He looked around at the others. “If you’ll excuse me, I must retire to my stateroom.”

“We’ll send someone to fetch you when the coast is clear,” Trask said.

“Yes. Quite appropriate,” Pritchard said. With that, he sailed out of the cabin, head high and striding purposefully as if he’d not nearly wet himself over the prospect of having Trade Investigation Commission agents aboard the ship.

“Moe says they’ve only got one special agent, Captain.” Lyons looked up from his tablet. “Might be politic to invite her second as well.”

Trask nodded and keyed a note into his console, slapping the enter key with a snap. “Note to Ms. Marah. I’ll go down and talk to her when we break.” He looked at Blanchard. “Auto-doc?”

“Aye,” Blanchard said.

Trask turned to Zoya. “Can you organize a brow watch and messenger? Somebody shipshape and Bristol fashion for the front door?”

“Spec Two Eisley for the watch?”

“Rebecca? Yes, she’ll be perfect.”

“How about Wazu for messenger?” Zoya asked.

“He needs a haircut. Davis?”

“Perfect, Captain. I happen to know he’s got a fresh shipsuit.”

Trask gave a short chortle. “Do I want to know how you know that, Ms. Usoko?”

“He came to watch smelly. I made him go change. It took him two tries, but he finally found a fresh suit.”

“You’re a hard task master, Ms. Usoko. No question.” Trask’s lips twitched a little.

Lyons asked, “You want me to do anything special, Captain?”

Trask looked at him and ran his fingers over his mouth. “Just keep up your end of the conversation?”

“My end, Captain?”

“Just smile a little and stop being a mope,” Natalya said. “Don’t sit there hunched over the table like somebody’s going to steal your food.”

Trask’s eyes went wide and even Blanchard flinched.

Lyons looked at Natalya, his head tilted a bit to the right and twisted slightly away from her. “A mope.”

“Yes. A mope.”

A smile broke across Lyons’s face like the sunrise from planetary orbit, a hint of the star at the edge of atmosphere and then a brilliant flare of light. “I think I can do that. You can poke me if I seem to be falling back onto hard times, all right?”

Natalya nodded. “Done.” She looked at the captain. “Anything else, Skipper? I’d like to run a mop through my hair and give the engine room a good combing if we’re going to have guests.”

Trask started chuckling and just waved a ham-size hand in dismissal. “Go to,” he said. “Go to.”

Chapter 34
Moe’s Mining: 2363, July 23

Diana Marah outdid herself on short notice. Natalya admired the buffet spread that included Marah’s signature curried chicken and a chickpea dish she called
msabbaha
. A covered bowl of rice waited at the end along with some fresh rounds of flat bread. The scent of cumin and sweet curry made Natalya’s mouth swim.

“Is everything ready?” Zoya asked.

“I think so.” Natalya shrugged. “Close enough at any rate. When are they arriving?”

Lyons waved his tablet. “Any minute now. Moe says they’ve just left the office.”

Blanchard slipped into the wardroom just ahead of the captain. “Relax. They’re just people.”

“People who could lock us up if they wanted to,” Trask said. “No pressure.”

Lyons glanced at Trask and shook his head.

“Something, Mr. Lyons?” the captain asked.

“No, Captain. Just admiring your aplomb.”

Trask grinned and stood over the buffet, surveying it from one end to the other as if trying to decide where to begin. “Fruit cobbler for dessert, I heard.”

Mr. Bray stuck his head in from the pantry. “Yes, sar. Don’t say anything but I heard the ice cream maker going earlier as well.”

“Excellent, Mr. Bray. My compliments to Ms. Marah. I’ll deliver them myself when this is over.”

A three-rap knock on the door warned them just before Spacer Apprentice Jason Davis opened it. “Your guests have arrived, Captain.” He looked every inch the proud spacer apprentice as he stood at attention at the door.

“Welcome, welcome,” Trask said. “Come in, come in.”

Two TIC agents wearing black jumpsuit uniforms entered. The first, an older woman with a prodigious smile, reached for the captain’s outstretched hand. “Captain Trask, I’m Special Agent Paula Rewers. Thank you for your kind invitation.”

Trask gave a little bow over Rewers’s handshake. “Agent. Thank you for coming. It’s always a treat to find new people to invite aboard.”

“May I present my second in command, Agent Michael Hardwall?”

Hardwall took a step forward and smiled. “Captain.”

“Welcome, Agent Hardwall.”

“Thank you, Captain. We don’t get invited aboard many vessels.”

Trask laughed. “I dare say. We’re happy to have you.” He waved a hand at the buffet like a stage magician introducing his lovely assistant. “Our chef loves the opportunity to cook for new people and I hope you’ll find something to enjoy.” He ushered Special Agent Rewers to the head of the line. “Normally captain’s privilege, but hospitality rules today. If you’d start down the line, Ms. Rewers?”

“Paula,” she said.

“Paula,” the captain repeated. “Thomas, although Tom works well. Only my late wife called me Thomas. Generally when I was in the soup.” He smiled as he squired Ms. Rewers along.

Lyons caught Natalya’s eye and grinned.

Zoya stepped forward to greet Hardwall. “Agent Hardwall, I’m Zoya Usoko. May I introduce Second Mate Charles Blanchard?”

“Charlie, please,” Blanchard said, reaching to shake Hardwall’s hand.

“Today I’ll be Michael,” Hardwall said. “Nice to meet you, Charlie.”

“Our cargo master, Josh Lyons,” Zoya said.

Josh stepped up with a smile and a quick handshake. “Welcome aboard, Michael. Today I’ll be Queen of the May.”

“No, Mr. Lyons,” the captain said from the end of the buffet. “That’s Ms. Usoko’s name today. You can be Queen of the May tomorrow.”

Lyons snapped his fingers in a theatrical gesture of disappointment. “Some days are like that,” he said with another nod at Hardwall.

“Last but not least, Natalya Regyri, engineering officer,” Zoya said.

Hardwall tilted his head. “Regyri. I know that name.”

Natalya’s stomach clenched and a cold streak slipped down her spine. “Do you?”

Hardwall’s eyes narrowed but he wasn’t looking at Natalya. His focus rested somewhere in the middle ground. “Charlotte Regyri?”

Natalya’s mind did a flip. “You know my mother?”

Hardwall smiled. “Indeed, I do. It’s been ages since I’ve seen her. How is she?”

“Doing well, the last I heard. An engineering chief for Consolidated Freight.”

“And here you are in engineering as well. Wrench doesn’t fall far from the machine.”

“I come by it honestly,” Natalya said.

“If you people are through, this food is not getting any warmer.” Trask waved the crew forward.

Blanchard stepped aside for Hardwall to precede him and the rest followed in rank order.

In a matter of a few ticks everyone had food and found seats. Special Agent Rewers took the place of honor at the foot of the table, opposite the captain, with Mr. Hardwall to her right. Bray came in with both coffee and tea, serving around the table before making a discreet exit back through the pantry.

Trask raised his mug. “To good profits and safe voyages.”

“Hear, hear,” Rewers said.

After the toast, the company settled down to address the food. Natalya became so absorbed in her meal that she almost missed the opening salvo.

“You’ve an interesting crew, Captain,” Hardwall said.

“Thank you, Mr. Hardwall. They get us there and back again.”

“No first mate?” Hardwall asked.

Trask glanced at Zoya. “Ms. Usoko here has proven to be most capable.”

“You’re barely out of the academy, aren’t you?” Hardwall said, looking at Zoya.

“I grew up running ore haulers for my family’s business over in Margary,” she said. “At least this crew doesn’t have to tiptoe around the owner’s granddaughter.” She smiled at him.

“Usoko Mining?” Rewers asked.

“My grandparent’s company.”

Rewers nodded. “You left to join the merchant fleet?”

“My parents will run the company for decades. There’s little enough for a number three daughter to aspire to there.” Zoya shrugged. “I thought to try my wings on my own for a while. I can always go back with a great education and some decent experience behind me.”

“And how are you finding it?” Hardwall asked, glancing around at the wardroom.

“I’m quite enjoying it.”

Hardwall looked back at the captain. “I’m sure Ms. Usoko is quite skilled but regulations require you to have a licensed first mate.”

“We have two aboard, Mr. Hardwall.” Trask shrugged. “Neither of us are being paid for that position.”

Hardwall’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re the captain. Of course you’re licensed as first mate. Who else?”

Blanchard tipped his head. “That would be me.”

“You’re the second mate and astrogator.”

“Yes,” Blanchard said. “That’s true.”

Trask sighed and glanced at Rewers before staring at Hardwall. “We had a bit of a blowout with our first mate just before we left. He thought he was indispensable. He wasn’t. Perhaps we’ll find somebody to take the berth, or maybe Ms. Usoko here will prove to be so effective, I’ll keep her on until she grows into it. In the meantime, Mr. Hardwall, the regulations only require the ship have a licensed first mate. We do. There is nothing in the regulations that requires us to actually pay a first mate.”

“Who’s handling the watches?” Hardwall asked.

“I’m perfectly capable of standing bridge watch, Mr. Hardwall.”

Hardwall started to speak again, but Rewers touched his forearm and his mouth closed with an audible click. “Your chief engineer isn’t with us?” She glanced at Natalya with a slight shrug.

“Mr. Pritchard is currently recovering from a nasty burn. He’s in his stateroom if you’d like to disturb him,” the captain said.

“A burn?” Rewers asked. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

“He got too close to a hot keel generator. Clumsy accident. Quite painful, but nothing life-threatening. He’s upright and able to take nourishment,” Trask said. “By rights, he should be in the auto-doc until the pseudo-skin has a chance to close the wound, but he gets claustrophobic in small spaces. The auto-doc allowed a quarantine procedure to reduce the chance of infection while it heals.”

“That sounds serious. Will he need additional care?” Rewers asked.

“He’s uncomfortable but visiting the auto-doc regularly for updates and medications to help manage the process. His prognosis is excellent,” Trask said, a smile returning to his face.

“We’ll be docking at Siren Orbital in a few days,” Lyons said. “If he needs additional care, we’ll have an opportunity there.”

“In the meantime, Ms. Regyri? You’re running the department?” Hardwall asked.