Chapter 05 Voyage's End
I watched Molaye running through the routine of slipping into our assigned orbital slot with clenched hands casually hidden in my trouser pockets. She was doing it by the book. This time. Usually she brought the ship in packet style, matching altitude and velocity in a single motion, a liberty frowned on by the old captains she'd be facing in a few days. This time she was deftly aligning the Lost Star to our assigned anchorage buoy from the fairway, a hundred kilometers above the buoy. With position and speed matched, she'd use our steering rockets to drop us to within ten kilometers of the buoy.
'Relax Skipper,' said Riv, who, like me, was holding up the port side bulkhead of the bridge. 'You're making me jumpy. Young Molaye's perfectly capable of slotting us in without running down the buoy.'
'Of course. Natural talent, and two years my apprentice. Still, if the Dark Neb has it in for me, time's running short...'
'If the Dark Neb has it in for you, there's far worse things than running down a blasted buoy. There's hundreds of ships and boats in orbit to run down.'
'Thanks for pointing that out, Chief. That does seem to make hitting a buoy much easier to contemplate. I've been thinking of becoming a cha planter anyway.'
Riv grinned and in a louder voice called out, 'Be careful Molaye, don't run the buoy down, or the Skipper will have to take up farming.'
Riv's partner, Lilm, at the engine room console, turned and gave him a sharp look. 'You be quiet, Riv.'
Molaye at the helm, merely turned with a smile, 'I'll have her within two hundred meters, Chief. Hold his hand.'
I sighed and muttered quietly to Riv, 'You know, you're going to have to serve under a real captain again someday.'
'All the more reason to have my fun now...'
Like the awning deck, the ship's bridge is a conceit, designed to suggest that it is located above and overlooking the hull rather than deep within the ship. Eleven large view-panels wrap around the curving forward bulkhead of the bridge. The panels are linked to cameras in the sensor bar and, except for the center panel displaying the pilot's data, they show a panoramic view of the Nine Star Nebula, the sun, Azminn and the curve of Calissant below, as seen from the upper hull looking aft since we were still traveling stern first, having just completed our deceleration to match Calissant's velocity. The warmth of the bright sunlight pouring in was another artful illusion generated by the panels.
Seated at the central control console facing the wall of panels were the three persons on watch, Lilm monitoring the engine room and rockets, Molaye at the helm and Dyn, the look out who monitored the ship's radar and communications. More specialized versions of these and other stations filled the bulkhead behind them in a blaze of status lights and screens. The rest of the crew seemed to have drifted into the bridge as well, settling in the various monitoring stations and corners. I don't suppose many captains would've allowed this, but I guess we felt a need to be together at the end of what might well be our last voyage as shipmates.
Molaye rang the maneuvering warning bell, unnecessary with everyone present, but required.
I felt a faint, confused tug of inertia as Molaye began firing a series of steering rockets to flip and rotate the ship. The patches of sun light flowed around the bridge as the ship's stern dropped and began to slowly rotate. There's no reason why a ship needs its bow facing the direction of orbit, nor why the holds have to open 'up' in relation to the planet, except it's the way it's done. And while it would have been simpler to just spin the ship laterally to accomplish this, that too is not the way it's done. A ship is flipped 180 degrees while making a 180-degree axial rotation before it comes to rest in orbit. Pilots like flying rockets...
Since I was officially monitoring Molaye, my com link connected me to the ship's array of internal and external sensors. As with the crane, I experienced the ship's movement as a ghostly sensation of actually being the ship. I'm unable to use this link to control the ship (another technological victim of the robot revolt) but it serves as an intuitive aid and an early warning system necessary for something as complex as an interplanetary ship.
I tried not to ignore the rapid approach of our anchoring buoy seen by the ship's radar. Closing my eyes didn't help, of course, but I did it anyway. If the Dark Neb had it in for me, nothing I could do was going to make any difference.
'Captain?'
I opened my eyes to see Molaye watching me. She smiled brightly and held up her hands. 'Oh,' I said and pushed myself off the bulkhead.
'Hundred and eighty-six meters,' she said glancing around me as I reached the console to grin at Riv.
I checked the readings on the screens over Molaye's shoulder, speed relative to buoy, a neat 0.000, 186 meters off our bow. We were home. 'Excellent, Molaye. As always. You'll have no trouble with the board. I only wish I could promise you a berth. I'll do all I can, of course.'
'Thanks Captain. We're hoping to stay on board,' she replied. The we included Kie who'd also be going before his Tech Board.
'I want you both,' I assured her.
Lilm looked up at me. 'Ah, Wil...'
'Huh?'
'Do you still need me?'
'Oh. Right. Done with engines, Lilm. Stand down, harbor watch.'
'Well Skipper?' Riv called from across the bridge.
'Well what?
'What did the Kardea of Min & Co say?'
I'd reported our arrival to our managing firm during our approach to orbit and talked a bit to Phylea Kardea, the firm's office manager.
'In a moment. Before the quarantine and trade control boats arrive, I'd like to make a fool of myself one last time by thanking all of you for all the big and little ways you've made my job easier, not that I expected anything less. I know it's been hard for you, and me, to sail without Captain Miccall. Thanks for not holding me to his standard, I know some of you have left things unsaid. Some more than others...'
'No problem,' Riv acknowledged with a shallow bow. 'I can't say it wasn't a trial, but we've gotten through. Just don't expect such a smooth ride from here on out. We've our limits.'
'Thanks, Chief.'
'I know I speak for everyone when I say that even if you weren't the only option, I'm sure we'd still have at least considered you for acting captain...' he added.
'I was the only option because none of you stepped forward. If you had, I'd have dodged the berth as deftly as a jump boat. Well, we're home again. You can admit it now. How many of you have a master's ticket?' I asked, looking around.
'A master's ticket? I'm just an old, broken down chief engineer. Why would I have a master's ticket?' he said with a less than innocent smile, shared by my prime suspects. I shook my head. I'd get Illy to tell me, someday...
'Now, what did Kardea say?' he added.
'Very little we didn't know. The ministry official handling Vinden's estate is on holiday this week so Tallith Min won't be able to see him before next Secondday, leaving our fate hanging a week or more.'
'What's to prevent us from sailing hollow to Sanre-tay before the official even knows we've here and gone?' asked Riv.
'The thought actually crossed my mind as well. I asked Kardea. She said there are standing orders for all Vinden's ships to be paid off after discharging their cargoes. So running would be piracy, or the next thing to it. I don't think we're ready to be pirates yet. We should probably give Min a chance to argue our case, first.'
'Blast, it could have worked...'
'If it wasn't for those standing orders, it'd been something to consider. According to Kardea there's little in the way of cargo and not likely to be any more in the near future so sailing hollow to the Sanre-tay quarter might have been justifiable. We've enough fuel on board for a slow run anywhere. But I do draw the line at piracy.'
'Anyway, that brings us back around to paying off the crew after clearing the ship's cargo,' I continued. 'With the Ministry official unavailable to say otherwise, that'll have to be the case with us too. Kardea said we can treat
it as unpaid shore leave, no need to clear our gear until our fate is settled. We can come and go as we like. I can keep a single ship watcher on board. Nothing to be done about it.
'We should be able to discharge our cargo in short order; I've already received notice that lighters are on their way up. We'll start our 'Survival Banquet' fourth watch tomorrow and any survivors will be paid off the following day. I understand that with prospects of a ship out of Port Prime almost nil, most idle spaceers are drifting down to Barque-nela on the Amibon Sea coast, inexpensive, warm and with real beaches. You can take the long boat down under Illy, I'll keep the gig for Port Prime runs. Any questions?'
'What's your status? Did Kardea have anything say about that?' asked Illy.
I shook my head. 'She didn't mention anything. I didn't ask. Until the fate of the Lost Star is determined, appointing a permanent captain is not likely a high priority. I'm likely to meet Min tomorrow, so I may know more after that conversation...'
'Captain, the quarantine boat is coming along side,' Dyn said in his quiet voice beside me.
'Alright mates, down to the landing stage to get examined, and get your manifests in order for the inspectors. With traffic so reduced, we're going to get first class treatment this time around.'
Port procedures vary little planet to planet. The Quarantine boat docks first with an assortment of droids to conduct medical exams, sample the ship's environment and clears all trade goods slated for the planet. Procedures are rigorous and inflexible, but pandemics are rare.
Once medically cleared, Unity Trade Inspectors arrived with their droids to verify each cargo container is the same untampered container sent up from the world of its origin. They also inspected and recorded the crew's Guild goods, usually small, rare or luxury items privately purchased on the planets by spaceers to be either re-sold directly to customers or bartered spaceer to spaceer via the Guild's exchange posts.
Once the trade inspectors had signed off, we began to off-load the containers to the waiting lighters. Normally in Calissant orbit, we'd wait the better part of a day for the first lighter to arrive, but this time around, with trade so slack, we were treated like an express packet and had four lighters waiting for their boxes by the time the inspectors' boat departed. We discharged our full cargo in a hectic rush of less than two watches.
Afterward, though tired, I found sleep evasive. The sense of relief I should've felt after seeing the Lost Star safely and profitably home – without running over any buoys – was curiously subdued. All rather anticlimactic, no end at all really.