TC looked him in the eye without a word and without moving. It was like he suddenly sobered up.
“Want me to go on?” Morgan asked, pretending he knew more about this Jupe.
“What of it?”
“Can we start with who he is?”
“My son. My no-good, spoilt, son, is who he is. There you have it, and it’s not any of your business. I’m teaching him the space biz. And if there is one thing that’s true here, is that he does not need interference from spying passengers. I’m teaching him the real thing, how to survive deep-space flight by the seat of your pants, and how to ignore computers when you know they’re wrong, or give them a kick to make them right. That’s what I’m doing. That’s what gets me through this long flight. Not in hosting whining lumps of freight like you.”
“I’m sorry, ‘freight’?”
“That’s right.”
“Is that all you think of us?”
“Is there anything else to think?”
“This is coming from the great Johnny Beggs? Space pilot extraordinaire? Just not to his own paying customers. What is it, because we’ve passed the point of no-turning-back, you think you can talk this way to me?”
“Something like that. But that’s all you are to me. Cargo. And you can tell the others all you like about Jupe, doesn’t matter, he’s not meeting any of you. And believe me, since I’m the captain and probably the only one capable of flying us anywhere at all, I think I have the final say. So, go back and tell them all you want, isn’t going to change a thing.”
“You make us sound like prisoners.”
TC managed a sly grin. “You’re not far wrong.”
“You will not get away with this attitude.”
“Who are you going to tell?” TC asked with a laugh.
Morgan turned to leave, knowing exactly who he would tell.
* * * *
Deep in the back of the main hold, behind Morgan’s own crates, was a secluded space only big enough for him to stoop down with his palm-sized message machine. When he turned it on he wasn’t expecting to receive an incoming transmission, but he knew he should at least accept it before sending his own. It had been nearly a month since leaving Earth, and Lars sounded angry. Morgan had used most of his first message complaining about the unknown factors of what awaited them at Ancia. He hoped that Lars might have contacts there to help them. Morgan gave him a list of things he expected to have when they arrived.
“Don’t tell me about Ancia, I don’t care about that,” Lars shouted, loud enough to cause distortion to the audio. “Why are you wasting my time telling me about that? Just listen to yourself, why don’t you? Don’t you people have anything better to do than sit around arguing about what part of Ancia is the nicest? Ancia’s just a dream! Do I look like I’m interested in the place? If I was interested, I’d go there myself! Listen, Morgan, tell me what I want to hear, or this is one big waste of time. Don’t you know time is money? You probably didn’t even know that back when you were actually making money. Tell me about the state of the ship, and if that captain of yours is acting the part, or has sold his soul to booze again. I know those no-good Wilsons can’t be trusted, but they’re the best we have for this job. Make sure they’re sober too, and not talking trash. Anything else, I don’t care about. Got it?”
Morgan contemplated the message and felt less inclined to record his reply. He had no idea why Lars would talk about Ancia as being a dream. There was another factor in Morgan’s decision to not send a reply, and that was something that had occurred to him during his meeting with TC, that they had passed the point of no return. It felt like Lars Best now had no effect on him, like he was too far away to be bothered with. He switched the message machine off, and left it on the floor. Perhaps he would come back to it at a later time, if he felt like saying anything, or perhaps he would just leave it there.
It took him two days before he realised that annoying Lars Best was a very bad idea, no matter where he went to in the galaxy.
* * * *
Sarra Roachmann was the first of all the souls aboard ship to become bored with space flight. As with the others, the notion of travelling out into deep space, with all its wonder and all its mystery, was initially cause for great excitement. But now she saw that one star was not entirely different from any other star. Unless they were going to stop by and take a good look at some gas giant, or unique moon, which TC had no interest in doing. She refused to even look at whatever it was they drew near to. It did not help that Thax spent most of his time playing cards with Cuthbert. He seemed to think that Jenna was there if she wanted someone to talk to, and if she was really desperate, there were the passengers.
“Where have you been?” she asked Thax, seeing him return to their cabin for the first time in about four hours.
“I have my ship duties,” he said with a shrug.
“You’ve been playing cards.”
“What if I have?”
“I need time with you. There’s nothing else to do.”
“You’ve got Jenna to talk to.”
“I didn’t come on this flight to talk to Jenna.”
“You don’t get along anymore? Weren’t you two friends? You were roommates back on Earth. What’s changed?”
“I feel like you’re ignoring me. I saw you more when we were back on Earth.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Thax said, knowing he was not going to come out of this conversation anything like the winner.
“Don’t have time? Is that what I’m hearing? All you’ve got out here is time. Have you forgotten where we are, in deep space, millions and billions of kilometres from anywhere?”
“Yeah, I played cards. That’s what I do when I’m making sure the ship’s not going to explode. And I’ll be playing a lot more if you keep talking that way.”
“Is that right?”
“That is the facts.”
“Then you can forget about coming back here when you’ve finally grown tired of your little card games, with pirate-boy.”
“Grown tired of my what? This means what?”
“Means I’m kicking you out.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Think I can’t, do you?”
“Babydoll, we’re in deep-space.”
“Don’t you ‘Babydoll’ or ‘deep-space’ me.”
Thax watched in stunned silence as she shut and locked the door, leaving him out in the corridor. He thought about pointing out that now she really was all on her own, and if she was planning to ignore him for the rest of the flight, then she would really know what loneliness was. He shrugged, thinking she would eventually change her mind. He went to find his brother, wondering if it was true that he really was tired of her.
Cuthbert was beginning his rounds of inspection. They liked to take turns, mostly so they wouldn’t have to look at each other for more than they had to. When Cuthbert saw his brother joining him, he didn’t ask why, knowing there must be a good reason. It was part of their work to regularly inspect the crates in the hold, and although they went down there every day, they would do little more than walk through making cursory glances. TC expected more from them, but since he never checked, they figured that it would all be fine.
“What’s your problem?” Cuthbert finally asked when he noticed his brother wasn’t being very chatty.
“Sarra,” Thax said as he gently punched at a wall of one of the stacked crates. “I think she doesn’t want me around.”
“They all get like that.”
“She doesn’t. Not before now. I even called her ‘Babydoll’ and she didn’t like it.”
“Not a good sign. But they all get like that, one time or another. You can’t just wait out the flight to see if she’s serious or not. What you need, is a new one. Leave her at T Station and let her hook up with some other ship fixer, find her own way home.”
Both brothers laughed over that.
“I thought she’d be trouble,” said Cuthbert. “Didn’t I say sh
e was trouble? I saw in her eyes, she’d get bored on a long-haul. First thing I asked Jenna, how would you survive on such a flight?”
“She’s kicked me out. Of my own cabin.”
“Where are you going to go? Not mine?”
“There’s the passenger quarters.”
“Are you serious? Look, here’s something to take your mind off. See this?”
Cuthbert put his hand into a small opening in a crate and slapped a freezing unit. Most of the crates had at least one panel removed, since Cuthbert had spent his free time investigating what was stored in them. This one contained something he was anxious to tell Thax about.
“You want me to sleep out the rest of the flight in one of those? Wouldn’t put a dead dog in there.”
“Just read who owns it.”
“That’s that weird guy Real’s freezer,” Thax said, reading the side.
“I’ve seen this type before, and it’s about the best you can get. It’s totally brand-spanking new. Must be worth a bundle. But you know what? I was trying to figure out what felt wrong about it. And I realised, the thing is working. It’s on and running. He’s packed it in here with all the switches on.”
“Must be keeping something in there. Why else waste the power?”
Cuthbert knew from the look in Thax’s eyes that it was a only matter of how fast they can rip into the crate and find the main door. They did so like it was a race. They found that the large front window was covered in condensation. Thax wiped it away so they could peer inside. It came as a nasty shock to them, both at the same time, to see the face of a woman. Blond and attractive, and lifeless without seeming to be dead. They both staggered back. They had heard of people trying to survive in such machines, but never had they seen one.
“There you go, you can have this one,” Cuthbert said as he pointed at her, trying to find humour to negate their horror.
Thax didn’t register his brother’s joke as he studied the captive woman. He was wondering how they were going to tell TC. Since they were responsible for the cargo, to have something like this slip through, Thax knew that TC would put all the blame on them. Unless they could get Real to own up to his deception. Either way, they would be the ones who would need to tell TC, and hear his loud response.
“What kind of a man does this to a woman?” asked Thax.
“She’s a prize of the deep,” Cuthbert joked. “Like a mermaid, of the stars.”
“She must be worth it to him, to do this.”
“How do you know she’s not like Sarra, and this was the only way to shut her up?”
Thax looked at his brother for a few moments of silence, and then belted out a big laugh. “Perhaps he was trying to get out of paying her ticket.”
“Or maybe she came with the machine?”
“Or she snuck in there when he wasn’t looking.”
They continued to try to find humour in the situation, as a way of delaying telling TC.
* * * *
Morgan Calp waited for the Wilsons to make their way out of the hold. He had been hiding in his usual place with his unused message machine, unable to hear them even when they started shouting at each other. He suspected that they had found something they didn’t like about one of the crates. Whatever it was, he would find out later and save it for another message. He waited longer, until he was sure that they weren’t still there, and then turned to the small message machine. Concentrating on what he wanted to say, he remembered the anger he felt when he heard Lars’ last message, and his tone was direct.
“Morgan here. In response to your last message, from what I have seen of TC, he’s does not appear to have taken to alcohol, and seems in a good state of health. There is nothing wrong with the ship, from what I can tell, but then, I am no ship technician. Whether or not you want to know this, I don’t know, but there is an extra crew member, one Jupe Beggs. That’s TC’s son. Our good captain never took the opportunity to introduce him to the passengers. I don’t like anything about it, and it may be a sign that he’s hiding something else from us.”
He hit the pause button and contemplated not continuing in his boldness and saying what he had planned. He then told himself to take heart from the fact that he was so far away from Earth, and Lars’ anger would probably be more directed at TC.
“As for discussion about Ancia, what else do you think we’re going to be talking about? Is there something I don’t know? Why did you say it was a dream? What did you mean by that? I want answers, Lars. If you want to know any more about this flight, you’ll tell me.”
He sent the message and then wished he didn’t.
Curiosity forced him to see what the Wilsons were shouting about. There was an opening to one of the crates. Just before Morgan could look inside, he heard footsteps and talking. He dashed behind the crate as TC arrived with the Wilsons. The brothers were trying to out-do each other in talking, and Morgan found it impossible to tell what they were saying.
TC remained quiet for a few moments. “This is Real Munro’s? You’re sure?”
“That’s his name there,” said Thax.
“Patch up the hole here, and bring him to the flight deck. Don’t make the others think anything’s up.”
Morgan waited until they fixed the crate and then left. He wondered why TC had sounded calm and thoughtful, while the two brothers were worried and talkative.
* * * *
Thax and Cuthbert were careful to not let the other passengers notice their anger as they asked Real to go with them to see the captain. Real must have sensed that something was not right, as he avoided them for a good half-hour. He first told them that he needed a bathroom break, but they gave him only five minutes before banging on the door. Then he gave them the slip by taking a different corridor to the flight deck, and went instead to the kitchen area. When they finally found him he claimed that he was hungry. Thax gave him a quick punch and Cuthbert took him roughly by the arm and walked him down the corridor to the flight deck.
“You can’t go putting people in freezer units, on my ship!” TC shouted at him when he saw him. He was more upset at the idea that Real had been deceptive and lied to him. The more he thought about it the more livid he became. Neither of the Wilson brothers had ever seen him so angry, and it surprised them, since he had been calm in the hold.
“Trying to get a free ride?” Cuthbert added.
“She’s already paid for,” Real said, prepared for such a confrontation, although their reaction was worse than he expected. “I’ve done nothing wrong, you can check your records.”
“No she’s not,” said Thax. “You are with that other woman, what was her name?”
“Chera.”
“You’re with Chera.”
“She didn’t want to come.”
“How’s that? She what?”
“Yeah, that’s the truth, all right? My girl, her name’s K, she changed her mind, but it was too late. We’d booked passage, sold all our stuff, and without warning, she tells me she has other plans. I felt stabbed in the back. I’ve put years into this, and she was trying to wreck it.”
“So you popped her in the deep freeze?” asked TC.
“You know how it is. First they want to come, then they don’t. They’re impossible to live with.”
“I’m with that,” Thax said, earning a glance from TC.
“What was I supposed to do?” Real continued, more to Thax, since he seemed to be agreeing. “I couldn’t leave without her.”
“You are aware she could have died,” Cuthbert pointed out, “and may still die, when you try to thaw her out? It’s not meant for human life, being in one of those things.”
“If it came to that, she’d still be with me.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Cuthbert said, amused at Real’s callous logic and groundless defiance.
“You’re just going to have to thaw her right now,” said TC.
“I can’t do that.”
“You’re going to do that.”
“No, I can’t.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m the captain here. If you see another ship out here, you can get on that and see if you’ll get your own way. For now, what I say goes.”
“It’s not a matter of thawing her out. I need to set up my power generators first, and get a habitat set up. She can’t go from the freezer to the ship in one jump. That would certainly kill her.”
Real saw in TC’s eyes that he believed him, and with that he realised that this man knew little about freezer technology. He wondered how many other things he was ignorant of. In that small fraction of time, Real felt superior to not only TC but everyone else on the ship.
“What did you say her name was?” asked TC.
“K Silversmith. Spelt with a K, her first name.”
“How else would you spell it?” asked Thax.
“No, I mean, it’s only spelt with a K. Just the letter, that’s her name.”
“I don’t know if anything you say is true,” said TC. “A single letter is her name? No one has that.”
“I wouldn’t make that up. Her brother is X, although he changed it to Teddo, and her sister is J.”
“Listen to me, little man,” TC said as he pointed at him and walked toward him, “she will be thawed when we get to the T, and if she’s not healthy and well, and able to do cartwheels, I’m taking it out on you, you understand?”
“The T?” Real asked, backing away, fearing being hit.
“Another single-letter name,” said Thax.
“But if we stop off there,” said Real, “she might not want to carry on to Ancia. She might want to go back to Earth.”
“Or she might have changed her mind about you, since you treated her so well,” TC said sarcastically. “You’re dismissed, and I don’t want to hear a peep from you the rest of the flight.”
They watched Real turn and leave.
“You’ve got to admire his pluck,” said Cuthbert. “Wouldn’t think he had it in him, looking at him. But I guess you can’t really tell someone until you pin them down. A hearty soul, that laddy.”
“Then, what’s his story? He has two women?” Thax asked, his mind reeling with the stupidity of such an idea.
“What’s with this guy?” TC agreed. “He wants two? A man can spend his whole life just trying to get away from the one.”