Ships of My Fathers Page 9

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’m supposed to report to Charlie for first shift tomorrow.”

  “Great,” she said, giving him a playful punch to the shoulder. “I’ll be finishing off then.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I’m headed for a shower and bed.”

  “Thanks, Karen,” he said.

  She walked away with a wave. “See you around, Michael Fletcher.”

  His chest swelled, but he was glad she had not seen it. He was pretty sure he was blushing too.

  Quartermaster was his next stop, so he found the ladder and went down one deck. He wandered around through the corridors, turning back from the smell of environmental, and eventually found the laundry. Harry was there, dumping towels into a folding machine.

  “Hey, new guy, are you here for your fitting?” she asked, but as he approached, she looked at his name patch and raised an eyebrow. “Well that’s different.”

  “Yeah, I was hoping you could help me out on that.”

  She bit at her lower lip for a moment. “I heard about dinner last night.”

  “You did? How?”

  “Shit, Michael, if we could ship cargo by word of mouth, we would set speed records. I’m sure by now everyone has heard about it.”

  He sighed. “So, are you going to help me?”

  “Well, that’s where I have a little bit of a problem. The captain put you on the crew manifest as Michael Schnei… well, by that other name. He says I’m to make uniforms according to the crew manifest. No fake officer bars for portside liberty, that kind of thing, you see. I don’t want to have to explain to him how I made you an irregular patch because you asked.”

  He shook his head. “Then tape it is.”

  She shrugged. “Or not. I don’t think I have any standing orders about preventing someone else from making an irregular patch.”

  He started to smile. “Ok, how do I do that?”

  “The machine’s back here,” she said, beckoning him back into the maze of shelves and crates.

  Michael walked into the galley at noon, starving. He had not eaten since the half dinner the night before. It was crowded already with at least thirty crewmembers either sitting or in line at the counter, and the moment he came in, he felt every pair of eyes on him.

  It was not as though the room fell silent, but he did notice a momentary drop in volume, as though many of the conversations had shifted to the whisper of “new guy.” The older man in front of him turned and nodded to him. “Michael Fletcher,” he said, reading his newly stitched name patch. He then pointed to his own patch.

  Michael looked at it. “Zane Forrester,” he read and then looked to the departmental patch above it. It was a purple swirl. “Tach drive?” he guessed, and looked up the man’s face: thin, dark hair with a hint of gray at the temples.

  “Yep, first shift.” He glanced back to the moving line in front of him. “Meatloaf today. Everyone else loves it, but the gravy aggravates my heartburn, so I’m getting a sandwich. You ever do much tach work?”

  He nodded. “I’ve sat more than a few shifts,” he answered. He thought better of bragging about his rating in it.

  “Good. We could use another good tach man. We’re still one short. It makes a couple of the maintenance jobs a pain in the ass.”

  They got to the front of the line, and true to his word, Zane got a turkey sandwich. The woman behind the counter looked up at him. “Mr. Fletcher!” she exclaimed. “I heard you missed out on the dessert last night.”

  He faked a smile. “Yeah, I umm, I had to go.”

  She put some meatloaf on a plate for him. “No worries, dear. I saved it for you. Find a seat, and I’ll send it out in a few minutes.”

  He got some corn to go with the meatloaf and picked up a cup of iced tea at the end of the line, and when he turned back to the array of tables and benches, he saw a hand waving to him. It was Gabrielle. He made his way over, nodding to several smiles and waves along the way, and sat down opposite her in the corner table.

  She added a puffy white roll to his plate. “It looked like they were running out before, so I went back and saved one for you.”

  “Thanks,” he said, dabbing it into the gravy and taking a bite. It was delicious, a far cry better than Malcolm’s cooking had ever been.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” she said. “You know, with my dad.”

  He nodded, still feeling the sting. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Still, it was a shitty way to welcome you to the family.”

  “You don’t like him?”

  She shrugged. “He’s my dad, so I love him, but I don’t always like him.”

  He chuckled. “That’s a fine distinction.”

  She lowered her voice and leaned in. “Oh, he can definitely be a self-righteous prick sometimes, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been a good father to me. Plus, he makes a pretty good captain, too.”

  “Compared to?”

  “I grew up on his ships, sure, but I had three other postings at the academy and one since. I only came back here last year when a navigator slot opened up.”

  “Oh, that’s not what I meant. I guess… never mind.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh, you thought I was comparing him to Fletcher?”

  He lowered his eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Oh, sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to imply anything. I never met your… old skipper. I certainly never served under him, so I wouldn’t know.”

  He met her eyes, looking so earnest. Either she was telling the truth, or she was a better actress than a navigator. “Do you believe what he said, about him murdering Peter and my mom?”

  Gabrielle reached out and took his hand. “Oh God, Michael, I honestly don’t know. I mean, I was just a kid when it happened. We were on a run into the League of Catai when we got the news. Peter’s ship had been destroyed in some battle, all hands lost, and by then the news was already three months old.”

  “All hands?”

  “Yeah, it turns out that four people got out. You and the chief steward in one pod, and two of the cargo handlers in another, but we didn’t find out about them until six months later when they showed up at one of our offices.”

  “And me?”

  She shook her head. “By then the adoption had already gone through, and we had no idea where to find you.”

  He nodded, recalling fragments. “I remember a few worlds we saw back in those years. Looking them up later, I can tell you that at least some of them were in the Solarian Union, but mostly I remember we were moving around a lot.”

  “A lot? Compared to what?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a good point. I guess that’s the life. We’re always moving around, but I don’t think we had much of a regular schedule back then. About the only regularity I remember is Annie.”

  He saw the quizzical look on her face.

  “A girlfriend of Malcolm’s. She was always sweet to me.”

  She smiled at him. “Well, look, I’ve got to get back to the bridge. Jake is watching my station so that I could eat, but I have to spell him now. My advice to you is steer clear of Dad for a while. Give him time, and his temper will fade.”

  “Thanks,” he said and bid her goodbye.

  She had not taken more than five steps when another woman sat in her place. She was older, perhaps near fifty with a round face and vivid green eyes. “Hi, new guy,” she said, pointing to her name patch.

  “Roxanne Collier,” he said, following her finger to the department patch. It was a red wrench. “I’m going to guess systems, mechanical.”

  “First shift. I’m the one to call if the door jams or the lift wobbles, that kind of thing. And most folks call me Roxy. So, I hear you’ve got a lifetime of small-ship experience.”

  A lifetime? “Sure,” he replied, “seventeen years of it.”

  They chatted for a few minutes. She had done twelve years in Confederate survey and then bounced around cargo carriers ever since. She had two daughters, one who
was now working for Takasumi Lines as a cargo handler, and one who had gone to dirt and decided to raise pigs with her husband. She got up after a bit, saying she had to investigate a grating noise in the long core shaft.

  He started digging into his food again only to see another man sitting across from him. He slid a piece of cherry pie across the table towards him. “Compliments of Maggie,” he said, pointing to his own name patch.

  “Reginald Hawthorne,” Michael said through a mouthful of meatloaf. The department patch looked like a crate. “Cargo?”

  “Yep, Reggie.”

  Behind him, Michael saw four others looming, doing their best to look like they were not. Drilling indeed.

  Chapter 10

  “Don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty, boy. The best results are covered in grime.” — Malcolm Fletcher

  MICHAEL WAS SURE TO ARRIVE more than thirty minutes early to his first shift with Charlie. He had swept through the breakfast line, learning Gary, Susan, and Maggie along the way, and tucked a couple of extra biscuits in his pockets for later. He had also mapped it out on the console the night before, so he did not get lost in the turns of deck five this time. Charlie was already there talking to Karen, but no one else from first shift had arrived.

  “…vibration on tank four,” she was saying. “I wasn’t sure at first, so I got out the scope and gave it a listen.”

  “Was it the whole night?”

  She looked up and saw him come in. “Morning, Michael.” She covered up her name patch.

  “Karen Larkin, environmental, third watch,” he said.

  “Good boy,” she replied with a smile.

  Charlie nodded to Michael but turned back to Karen.

  “My question?”

  “Oh, sorry,” she answered, sitting up a little straighter. “No, it started around oh five thirty and has been going off and on since.”

  “Morning showers,” he suggested. “Did it correlate to the new pump?”

  “No, it was more intermittent than that, more like every few minutes. It would start with a louder thump and then rattle around for a while. I can’t seem to narrow it down to any of the fittings down here.”

  Charlie shook his head. “It’s probably one of the air gaps.”

  Karen’s face lit up. “Ah, so that would be the back shock from one of the spring valves. Gotcha.”

  Charlie turned to Michael. “Did you ever do much plumbing work?”

  “A little, mostly scraping out the sludge tanks and the likes.”

  “Never did much with fittings?”

  He smiled. “Not much. I had a toilet lock that kept breaking loose, but that was about it.”

  “Well, I think we’re going to take you on a leak hunt today.”

  “A leak hunt? Not again!” cried out a new voice.

  They all turned to see two crewmen walking in. Michael grinned as they approached. He had planned ahead the night before. “I believe that’s Alfred Kessler and Edward Tennyson,” he said, long before they got close enough to read their name patches.

  The one on the right laughed and covered both his own and the other’s name patch. “New guy’s been studying, but which is which?”

  Michael put on his best consternation face. “I believe you would be Edward, while your friend here is my second cousin, Alfred Kessler.”

  Alfred brushed Edward’s hand away and extended his own to Michael. “Pretty good, cousin, but can you tell me the names of the relatives in between us?”

  Michael froze as he took the offered hand. “I, um…”

  Alfred busted out laughing. “Don’t sweat it, Michael. I can’t either. I know it’s on my mom’s side, but beyond that I have no idea.”

  A round of laughter and handshakes ensued, but eventually Charlie brought it back to the job. “Ok, so a leak hunt up on deck two. Anything else, Karen?”

  “Air scrubber six is down to fifty-eight percent, and yes, that’s a six percent drop since shift-change.”

  “Yeah, I figured it was due. Eddie and Al, looks like you two are reskinning the scrubber today.”

  They chatted a little longer, mostly Eddie saying how he glad he was to be spared from the leak hunt, but then Karen pointed to the bulge in Michael’s pocket. “Is that a biscuit?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I thought I might get hungry later.”

  “Oh god,” she said, “could I please have it? They’re always out by the time I get to the galley, and I get stuck with toast. I hate toast.”

  He handed it over and then fished out the second one for her as well. “Oh, thank you, Michael. I was starving.”

  “You could have sent for some,” Eddie chided.

  Michael was surprised. “You get delivery?”

  “Sure,” Charlie replied. “If you’re ever stuck on a station and can’t get away, call in to the galley. They’ll send something out to you.”

  “Yeah, but they’ll take their sweet time about it,” Karen said, devouring the rest of the first biscuit. “It’s never as warm as this, so thank you.”

  “No problem,” Michael replied.

  She turned back to Charlie. “Mr. Feldman, do you have the watch?”

  Charlie nodded stiffly. “Yes, Ms. Larkin, I have the watch. You are relieved.”

  She held up the second biscuit. “Thanks again,” she said and skipped away down the corridor.

  Charlie and the rest of his crew went through the diagnostic screens again and confirmed everything was as Karen had told them, but from the time they had first come down, scrubber six had dropped another percentage point. “At fifty, it signals an alarm on the screens. At thirty-five we get the klaxons. Trust me, you don’t want to let it get to thirty-five.”

  “Well, what do you do when you’re reskinning it?”

  Al was already back at one of the controls working on something. “We reroute the ducts around the scrubbers. Number six can go to number four or number eight.”

  Eddie was at the main station monitor. “Go to four. It’s still reading in the nineties.”

  “Switching to four.”

  Charlie tugged at Michael’s sleeve. “Let’s get you a kit and get started.”

  The kit was little more than a zero-g tool belt. It still had pockets for the tools, but they were also all held in with straps. This one was stocked with mostly wrenches, screwdrivers, and a few tubes of something gooey. He noticed that Charlie’s also had a small torch and goggles. They both suited up and headed up to deck two, officer country.

  Michael worried about running into his uncle. They had not crossed paths since the disastrous dinner, and he was in no hurry to see him again. As it was, deck two was almost deserted. He saw one man duck through a cross corridor. It was not anyone he knew yet, but he spotted the purple swirl of the tach engineering patch.

  They came to a narrow floor-to-ceiling wall panel, no more than half a meter across. The only thing that marked it as being different was a small collection of letters and numbers along the bottom. “W/P/A 2-1 & 2-3”. Charlie pulled out a power screwdriver and started detaching the panel from the wall.

  “Here’s how we’re going to do this. We open all the panels, one at a time, and you go in and look for the leak while I go into the officer’s baths and test the fixtures.”

  The panel came away to reveal a narrow gap between two walls, wide enough for Michael to slide into but also filled with pipes, cables, and ducts. “In there?”

  “Yeah, your first warning,” Charlie replied while sucking in his belly, “watch your weight when you work systems. You never know where you’re going to need to crawl.”

  “Okay,” he replied, squeezing in. “What am I looking for anyway?”

  “First of all, look up, towards the back. Do you see a flex pipe going up to a T-junction in each of the two walls?”

  He looked. Flex pipes were everywhere in different sizes and colors, some thick and blue, some thinner and clear, and a few near the floor that were thick and brown. This was in addit
ion to a jungle of bundled cables and several air ducts. He had to maneuver around a couple of ducts before he could get far enough back to see. There they were, right up at the height of a typical shower nozzle. “Yeah, I see them.”

  “Do you see the pipe going up from that junction, should be hard pipe, not flex pipe.”

  He looked again. There it was, about twenty centimeters tall going up towards the solid ceiling. It was topped by a fat cap, screwed down onto threads. “Yeah, I see it.”

  “Ok, that pipe holds an air gap, and we want to make sure it’s not leaking.”

  Michael looked back towards Charlie in confusion. “Why do you want air in your pipes?”

  “Only in that one pipe. That’s why it’s sticking up. The water beneath it keeps it from going anywhere else.”

  “Ok, but why do you even want it there?” he asked.

  “It acts as a shock absorber,” he answered. “All the user valves on the plumbing are spring loaded. You noticed that, right?”

  He had, in fact. Sophie’s were like that, too. One of the luxuries in port, especially ground ports, was turning on a shower and leaving the water running to steam up the bathroom. On ship, he was used to holding down the water chain to rinse off. Letting go cut the water automatically. “Don’t all ships have that? Go easy on the water system and all that?”

  “Yep, and when that valve snaps shut, it sends a pressure wave back through the water in the pipes. If you’re not careful, it’ll rattle through every pipe in the system. The air gap in that top pipe absorbs the shock, letting the water slam up before dropping back down. From the rattling Karen was hearing this morning, my guess is that one of those pipes has leaked most of its air out.”

  Michael nodded. “No air, no shock absorber. Okay, so how do I tell if it has a leak? Am I looking for a puddle in here?”

  “No, you’re feeling for the vibration. I’m going to go play with the fixtures in two-one. There should be three air-gaps on that wall. Find them, and put your hands on them one at a time. When the valve closes, you should feel a slight thump, but only a slight one. If it’s a big thump, start looking for any water near the pipe, even a single drop.”