Torchship (32 page)

When the ice had receded to halfway down the container door
Schwartzenberger gave permission to repressurize the hold and remove the ice.
Vacctape handled the leaks around the hatch. The shovels came out again as the
younger members of the crew chopped at the ice. Bing didn’t have to open her
first aid kit. For all the sharp chunks flying around nobody got hurt worse
than a bruise from slipping on the deck.

Finally all the ice was piled against the hatch and the crew
gathered facing the container ends. “Alexi,” said the captain, “Would you do
the honors?”

The doors were unlocked. Alexi opened the nearest container,
revealing two crates with illustrated labels. The left one showed a statue of a
young man standing stiffly. Billy leaned in to read it. “Thera kouros, circa
580 BC. Packaged in SafeFliteFoam. Use dilute vinegar or other weak acid to
remove.”

“About three thousand years old,” said Bing.

“That’s got to be worth a lot,” said Billy.

Mitchie said, “Maybe more than this ship. Every museum will
want it.”

“If it’s intact,” warned Guo.

“They’ll buy it!” cried Alexi. “They’ll buy it in pieces.
They’ll buy it if it’s a jigsaw puzzle. They’ll buy it if it’s
sand!”

Schwartzenberger tried to calm things. “A museum will give
us a thousand key honorarium and a letter from the Ministry of Culture thanking
us for preserving the common heritage of humanity. This is going to be
hard
to sell.”

“It should be in a museum,” said Guo. “This might be the
oldest artifact in human hands. Not much came off Old Earth before the
Betrayal.”

“I’ve seen prehistoric artifacts in Fusion museums,” said
Bing.

“Replicas.”

Alexi checked the other label—“Putto with dolphin, porphyry
fountain, Florence, circa 1475”—and moved to the other container. The doors
swung open on an array of small boxes. Alexi started scanning the labels.

Billy read one aloud. “Synthetic Vingium. Atomic number 148.
50 grams. Warning: unstable at temperatures above 450C.”

“
That
we can sell,” said Captain Schwartzenberger. He
laughed. Stable synthetic elements were another Golden Age tech humans had
never learned how to recreate. “We could be wearing masks in an alley and they’d
buy it. Let’s take a look at the other ends.” He started walking around the
containers. The crew got there ahead of him. Alexi left off reading labels and
sprinted to catch up.

Billy opened a set of doors and found blank boxes. Pulling
one partway out let him pry out a bundle of plastic slips. “Planetary Bank of
Eden. Ten Thousand Rubles. What the heck?”

“Fancy coins, Billy,” said the captain. “Worthless now.”

“They’re still valuable,” said Alexi.

“As collectors’ items, maybe. But this is enough to crash
the market.” Schwartzenberger waved Billy to the next one.

Those boxes were black. “Depleted uranium. Guaranteed 99.9% pure.
3kg,” read Billy. He pulled one out. “Looks like another stack behind this one.
Wow.” Guo let out a low whistle.

“That’ll be easy to sell,” said Schwartzenberger. “And we
can use it ourselves. Guo, how does the MC978 like U-238?”

“Loves it,” said the mechanic. “One of the highest
efficiency feed metals. That looks like enough to take us anywhere.”

“Beautiful. That changes our course. We can run constant
acceleration until we’re safe in Demeter. We’ll be there twice as fast as we
expected.”

Bing smiled. “I’ll redo the rationing calcs. We might be
able to have real meals again.”

Schwartzenberger pulled a flask from his thigh pocket. “This
is worth a toast. Ladies and Gentlemen, to success, and a safe trip home!” He
drank deep and passed the whiskey to Bing. “Everybody take a good slug, don’t
be shy.” The flask circulated slowly. “The mate and I will take tonight’s
shifts. The rest of you can celebrate.”

***

Mitchie and Guo celebrated by sticking to their new routine,
reading a chapter of
Romance of the Three Kingdoms
in his cabin. She was
still impressed by his reading nook—an oversized easy chair with a lamp at the
perfect angle. It was just big enough for them both if he wrapped his left arm
around her.

I wonder how Cao Cao’s going to get out of this mess?
thought Mitchie as Guo turned the ancient poetry into a story for her. They’d
started late after speculating about fencing the loot.

Guo stumbled over a phrase. “Argh. Hold this for me, please?”
He put the book in her hands and walked over to his reference shelf. Mitchie
held it carefully. He’d never admitted how much it cost, but the book had been
calligraphed on hand-made paper. She studied the brushwork, picking out the
ideograms she’d learned. Spaceport pidgin didn’t have much overlap with Classical
Chinese.

“Indebtedness doesn’t make sense in context—unless I mangled
the first half of the sentence. Argh.” Guo closed the dictionary and put it
back under the restraining cord. “I’ll have to look up the passage in the
modern version. I’m too drunk to figure it out now.”

Mitchie giggled. Guo wasn’t drunk, even if they were both
warm from the captain’s whiskey. He took out a bottle and poured into a pair of
ceramic cups. “What’s this?” she asked as he handed her one.

“Plum wine.”

“You are
such
a traditionalist.” Her first swallow
was sweet but burned. It felt more like plum brandy.

“You were warned,” he said.

She laughed and drank again. It took a moment for her to
figure out the ideogram on her cup. “Happiness” never appeared in Port Control
documentation. His cup said “Love.” Guo took the book and put it back in its
case.

She made room for him as he sat back down. He drained his
cup, put it down, and wrapped both arms around her. She giggled as he pulled
her into his lap. “Hey! Don’t make me spill this.”

“You’d better finish it then,” he said as he nibbled her
neck. Mitchie drank the last swallow and put her cup nested in his. She
straddled him and pressed her lips to his.

This was when the voices in the back of her head normally
started up.
Must be too drunk to bother me
, she thought. She’d been warm
from the alcohol. Guo’s touch had her on fire.

Unzipping her jump suit didn’t bother her. His hands felt
better on her skin than through the cloth. When he pulled it down to her waist
she had a flash of panic.
No. It’s all right. I can decide to do this, just
for the fun of it
. “Guo. This is just for the trip, okay? It can’t be
anything serious.”

“Okay,” he said to her cleavage, “just for the trip.” She
squeaked and wrapped her legs around him as he stood up. He carried her four
steps and laid her down on his bunk.

Journey Day 161. Eden System. Acceleration: 10 m/s
²

The fast trip home wouldn’t free them completely from algae
crackers but they’d only be a once a week food. Bing had gone all out for
dinner. Meatloaf, vegetables, bread, and a cake baking as they ate.

The only problem with the meal was the conversation. Bing
had asked if anyone had thoughts about what they’d do with their share. Alexi
had thoughts. He’d been planning what to do with the treasure for over a
decade. When the cake came out of the oven to cool he was still describing his
future palace on Pintoy. The crew was happy to focus on their food. Bing
finally got fed up enough to say, “Thank you, Alexi, that’s enough. Guo, what’s
your plan?”

The mechanic looked up from the bread he was buttering. “I
don’t have a real plan yet. I’ll send some money home at first. One thing I
would like to do—and this obviously depends on everyone agreeing—if we can’t
sell that Thera statue I’d like to take it as part of my share and donate it to
a museum, after we’ve gotten to where we can tell the whole story.”

“You’d have to buy it at full price,” snarled Alexi.

“Of course. But its market value might be less than its
historic value.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” said Billy. “We could all bring
our kids to come see it.”

“You have kids?” asked Alexi.

“Um, well . . . ”

“Billy?” asked a suddenly concerned Bing. “Is there
something I should know about?”

“Well, I don’t have any kids now. It’s just, Yukio said she
was planning on engineering her child, and she wanted me to be part of it.”

Mitchie choked on her drink. He was a splendid example of
hybrid vigor but she couldn’t imagine Billy as part of the Terraforming Service’s
project to increase human intelligence.

“Something about my kinesthetic aptitude.”

Okay, that makes sense
, she thought.
The boy can
dance
.

“What did she do?” asked Guo. “Take a skin sample before
leaving the ship?”

“She, um,” he actually looked abashed. “She said I’d already
given her plenty of DNA.”

“Should’ve asked for a receipt,” said Mitchie.

“I don’t know what to do. I mean, I know how to handle a kid
showing up in the normal way. If she cooks one up in a vat I might never know.
And if she sends me a picture or something am I a parent? It’s not going to be
half me and half her. If she takes one of my chromosomes, what does that make
me, a great-grandfather?”

“Three and a half greats,” said Guo.

“Cheer up, Billy,” said Alexi. “When you get home rich you
can have all the kids you want.” Bing had cut him off before he could describe
the harem quarters.

Journey Day 172. Tunxi System. Acceleration: 10 m/s
²

“Two pair,” said Abdul, turning over his cards.

“Flush,” answered Captain Schwartzenberger, revealing five
spades. He pulled in the pot. It was the largest of the evening, over a million
Eden rubles.

“You always have such good cards, sir,” said the apprentice.

“No I don’t. I fold my hand more often than you do. Poker
isn’t about winning individual hands. It’s about making the most of it when you
do have a good hand.”

“I thought you didn’t like this game,” said Mitchie. She’d
been surprised when the captain dealt himself into the impromptu lesson.

“I don’t. It’s a waste of time, and there’s always someone
better out there to take your money. But if you’re going to waste your time you
should do it right.” He dumped his winnings in the basket and left. It was
almost time for shift change on the bridge.

Guo finished shuffling and dealt. “Five card draw again.” It
had been his idea to start the game when Abdul had asked about the ship’s name.
“Ante up.” He tossed a 10,000 ruble note in.

“Check,” said Mitchie.

“Twenty thousand,” said Abdul, putting more money in. The
lovers matched him. Guo gave Mitchie three cards, Abdul one, and took none
himself. The pilot and apprentice swiftly raised each other to a quarter
million rubles. Guo quietly stayed in.

“Pair of kings,” said Mitchie as she called.

Abdul blushed. “Ten high.” He had four hearts.

“I knew you were bluffing,” said Mitchie as she reached for
the pot.

“Ahem.” Guo turned over three sevens.

“Crap.” She pushed the pot over to him.

“Bluffing doesn’t work well with play money,” he told Abdul.
“Or against crazy people.”

“Hey.”

“I figured one in four odds weren’t bad for pulling the card
I needed.”

“It’s more like one in five. You already had a third of the
hearts in your hand so there’s fewer out there to draw.”

“THIEVES!” Abdul was pulled out of his chair then flung to
the deck. “How dare you steal my property! I should punish you all!” shouted
Alexi.

“What the fuck are you doing!” yelled Guo. He came around
the table to the injured boy. Abdul whimpered. The galley chairs were bolted to
the deck. The metal back had cut hard into his ribs as Alexi dragged him across
it.

“I’m protecting what’s mine, you stinking betrayers.” Alexi
grabbed the cash off the table and stuffed it in the basket. Guo helped Abdul
up and moved him back into the corner. Michigan held the carving knife she’d
grabbed behind her as she slid around the table.

“I’m putting this back in the box,” said Alexi as he grabbed
the last of the cash. “And locking it.” He turned and walked out.

“You okay, kid?” asked Guo.

“I think so.” Abdul coughed. “Just bruises.”

“We need to talk to the captain,” said Mitchie.

***

The blow to her ear woke Mitchie from a sound sleep. She
rolled out of the bed, landed on her feet, and looked for a clear escape route.

There was nothing between her and the hatch of Guo’s cabin.
She looked at the bed. Guo was in a nightmare, flailing his arms and muttering “no”
and curses. Mitchie knelt on the bed and grabbed his hands. “Shhh, shhh, it’s
all right, wake up.” He kept thrashing, pulling away from her. “Guo! Wake up!”

His eyes opened. “Oh, shit. Michigan—what are. Oh. I’m
sorry. I thought I was past this.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s all right. What is it?”

“Dreaming. About that night on Savannah. It’s—I keep having
bad dreams about it.”

“That was a horrible night. But you saved me. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad I saved you. That’s not . . . it’s, the dream . .
. I murdered those two men.”

“I think you were justified. I think a court would agree.
From what they said I think they’d committed a lot of crimes before they
attacked me. They had it coming.”

“Yeah, probably. But I didn’t fight fair, I didn’t warn
them, just snuck up and . . I can still feel that horrible crunch. I didn’t
care then, too scared you were already dead, too scared another guard would
shoot me, too busy trying to get us out of there. Now you’re safe, I’m not
scared, and I keep remembering it. The feel of that
crunch
traveling up
my arm. What kind of person am I, ending someone’s life so easily?”

“You’re a survivor,” said Mitchie. She pressed her naked
torso against his. “I want you to survive.”