Children of the Old Star (20 page)

"I thought you'd never ask,” she said. “But first, the captain is expecting his breakfast."

Clyde McClintlock laughed inwardly thinking this was the first morning that Ellis had been aboard. “I take it, it's customary for the head chef to take the captain his breakfast?"

"It's good politics,” suggested Morganna. “Always good to impress the captain."

Standing, Clyde McClintlock stepped out to the kitchen, where he prepared a tray for Ellis. He had to admit the quiche smelled good. He grabbed a second plate for himself, trusting that Morganna had the situation well in hand, and made his way to the captain's quarters.

As Clyde left the Kitchen, Isaac and Quincy entered. They grabbed plates and each took a slice of quiche. “Looks like Morganna's cooking again,” said Quincy, finding a seat at a table.

"Thank God,” sighed Isaac. The programmer's brow knitted. “You know, there's something familiar about our cook."

"You're just being paranoid,” said Quincy.

"Who's being paranoid?” asked a stout, balding man, entering the kitchen.

Isaac and Quincy each nodded to Mahuk, the chief engineer. “Isaac keeps telling me he's seen our cook somewhere before,” said the burley Quincy. “He even thinks it was on the news."

"Why's that seem so strange?” asked Isaac, holding up his hands in mock indignation.

"The guy's a second-rate cook at best,” said Quincy. “He would never get a cooking segment on the news."

"I didn't say it was a cooking segment,” said Isaac, exasperated.

"Forget the cook,” said Mahuk, waving his hands, already bored with the conversation. “I just want to know if you've modified the code for the EQ drives like I asked."

"I'll have it done right after breakfast,” said Isaac.

McClintlock did not think about consulting the computer, or asking anyone where the captain's cabin was located before he left the kitchen. Despite the fact that Ellis’ cabin was only one deck above the kitchen, Clyde wandered the halls long enough for the tray of food to get cold. At last, the one-time colonel found himself knocking on the captain's door.

"It's about time you got here,” grumbled Ellis as he stepped out of the lavatory. He sat down at the table. Like the chairs in his office, the chairs at the table were mounted in tracks and could be pushed away and pulled toward the wood-grained table.

"This is a bigger ship than I'm used to,” said McClintlock, sitting the tray on the table.

"I know what you mean. I'm still getting used to the idea of having my own quarters, much less my own ready room.” Ellis smirked to himself. “I almost feel like an admiral."

"You better not let Ms. Smart hear that. As far as we're concerned, she is the admiral.” Sniffing the air, Clyde noticed the air smelled remarkably clean. There was no evidence that the captain had unpacked, much less smoked, his pipes. “Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm feeling fine.” Ellis raised his fork and cut into the quiche. Taking a bite, he made a face. “This is good, but it's cold.” Shaking his head he looked at the evangelist. “It really did take a long time for you to get here this morning."

McClintlock shrugged. He took a bite. Ellis was right, the quiche was good. “It seems odd that you would go through an entire night without your pipe,” McClintlock said, at last.

It was Ellis’ turn to shrug. “Ship's rules.” McClintlock began to say something, but the captain cut him off. “Even though I can smoke here, the fact of the matter is that Ms. Smart doesn't like it. As you say, she's the admiral. No sense pissing her off."

McClintlock nodded sensing something peculiar in the captain's voice—almost a lilting as though the captain was in love. The evangelist did not care to guess whether it was love with the owner's representative or the ship itself. “So, I hear we're finally heading out tomorrow,” said McClintlock changing the subject. “Where's our first destination?"

"The planet Zahar. Ever been there?” The evangelist shook his head. “Neither have I.” The captain reached over and flipped on a display. A schematic of a star and nearby planet appeared over the table. The planet seemed impossibly large for its proximity to the star. “Zahar is a terrestrial planet just a little smaller than Jupiter. It's covered with water just the right temperature for a Jacuzzi."

"Sounds like a great place to visit."

"If the gravity wouldn't tear a human to pieces,” mused the captain. “It's a rich system, and thus one that people want to get to easily. Unfortunately, the gravitational currents with those two large, close bodies make it a tricky one for small yachts and traders that don't have the computational power of bigger ships. They rely on mapping vessels to provide up-to-date records of the jump points.” The captain took a deep breath. “By the way, the last ship attacked by the Cluster was from Zahar.” Ellis retrieved a napkin from the tray and wiped his mouth. “It's time I got to the command deck."

McClintlock noticed that the captain's back seemed to straighten with that last statement. He felt a sense of purpose emanating from Ellis. Wishing he could mimic the captain, McClintlock said, “I have a menu to prepare."

"Mr. Yermakov,” barked Ellis as he stepped out onto the command deck. “Status report!"

The first mate was typing commands on a holographic projection of a control console. He sniffed, rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his blue flannel shirt, and then looked around at Ellis. “No problems here, skipper,” he said.

The captain took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Are we ready to get underway, then?"

Yermakov looked toward the screen then changed his holo console to a status readout and back to a console again. After thinking for a moment he shrugged. “Nope."

The omission of the word “sir” irked Ellis. He knew it was not required aboard a civilian ship. It bothered him nonetheless. “Do you care to elaborate, Mr. Yermakov?"

The first mate sniffed again, then shrugged. “We're still taking on supplies, energy packs, that sort of thing. It should all be in your briefing packet. Besides, we've yet to receive destination orders from the boss."

"We know our destination, Mr. Yermakov,” snarled Ellis.

"We know we're going to Zahar,” conceded Yermakov. “But via which route? It's not a direct jump. Five of the routes were mapped within the last week. Do you know which five?” Yermakov put his hands on his hips. “Which of the ten remaining routes do we take? Or, are we mapping a whole new route?” The mate shook his head and returned to work.

Ellis moved forward and gripped the back of the command chair until his knuckles turned white. He looked forward at the holographic display, showing the Earth rotating below the ship. In the display, it looked as though one could reach out and touch three separate space stations. Forcing himself to relax, he felt the eyes of all the officers on the command deck staring at him.

Ellis turned his attention to Natalie Papadraxis. Her long hair was tied in a braid running down her back. Instead of the floral print dress, she wore shorts and a bikini top. She smiled vacuously. Laura Peters, wearing the same type of brown jump suit as the day before, slowly turned her attention back to her work. Ellis sighed, realizing that his task of shaping up the bridge crew was not going to be an easy one nor was it off to a good start.

Ellis stepped to the front of the command chair and put his hands on his hips. He looked from Papadraxis to Peters to Yermakov. “I think it's important for me to emphasize that while this is a civilian ship, I am still its master. I do require a minimum of discipline. When I request a status report, please give me a complete report.” Peters turned her attention from her work back to the captain. Having everyone's attention, Ellis nodded, satisfied, then sat down next to his first mate. Softening his tone a little, he continued. “I admit, I'm new to mapping vessels. When I request a status report, please realize it's to help me keep the ship running smoothly."

Yermakov turned so he was facing the captain more directly. “Start then by realizing that we know our jobs.” He put his hands on his knees.

"And I know mine,” said Ellis, with an edge in his voice. The captain looked to the floor for a moment, then looked back up into Simon Yermakov's deep brown eyes. While the lighting on the command deck was bright, Yermakov's pupils seemed large. The captain pursed his lips and stood. “If you need me, I'll be in my office.” With that, he shook his head and left the command deck.

As the captain sat down behind his desk, he looked up, startled to see that Natalie Papadraxis had followed him in. She stepped up meekly and sat down in one of the chairs opposite the desk. “You have a lot of pent up hostility, Captain."

"Not hostility,” said Ellis shaking his head. “What can I do to help this ship run more smoothly?"

Papadraxis’ gaze drifted around the room before it settled back on the captain. “Perhaps you could call him, Simon,” she said dreamily. With that, she stood and left the room.

Ellis slammed his fist down on the desk. If he were going to get in contact with the Cluster, he would need a disciplined crew, not a bunch of spoiled brats. He would need people who could respond to orders quickly. The captain took several deep breaths and attempted to calm himself. “I
am
the captain,” he told himself firmly. The captain's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” he called vaguely annoyed.

Kirsten Smart's frame filled the width of the door. “May I come in?” Her tone was curt and formal.

Ellis held his hand out toward the chair opposite the desk. She came in and sat down. “What can I do for you, ma'am?” asked Ellis.

Smart took a deep breath and folded her hands. “I understand you were just out there blustering about discipline. One of the crew says you implied they didn't know how to run this type of ship."

Ellis sat forward. “All I did was request a complete status report from Yermakov,” he explained. “I would hope my first mate could produce a more lucid answer than ‘nope.’”

"Did you read his status report on the computer this morning?” Smart folded her arms. “If you had, I think you would have found it more complete than anything he could give you verbally."

"The ability to provide a succinct verbal report is necessary in times of crisis,” said Ellis, standing.

Smart held out her hands. “What crisis? This is a mapping vessel."

Ellis rubbed his hand through his hair, leaving it tousled. “What is Yermakov taking?"

Smart looked like she had been slapped. “What? What do you mean?"

"The constant sniffling. His eyes are dilated. He seems capable of standing up to me when you say he shouldn't be able to. He's on some kind of medication,” said Ellis. “I don't need my officers impaired."

"He's probably taking Proxom. He's not a natural leader. As first mate, he's under a lot of stress.” She shrugged. “I may not want him in command, but I don't want him to snap either. You're not helping by yelling at him."

"You asked me ‘what danger?'” retorted Ellis, pursing his lips. “What if Yermakov gave me an incorrect report because of the drugs? What if he took too much and passed out?"

"You should talk,” said Smart simply, but seemed to check herself. She stood and put her hands on Ellis’ desk. “You are awfully uptight about something."

Ellis thrust his hands in his pockets. “Is it so wrong to want discipline on a star vessel? After all, we're surrounded by vacuum. While I'll concede it's a civilian ship, our lives are on the line all the time we're out here."

Smart looked to the deck and wrung her hands. After a moment, she looked up again, her gaze softening. “Okay, I'll agree, some amount of discipline is necessary.” She moved away from the desk. “But, your style of discipline may be hard for most of this crew to swallow. You might try ruling with kid gloves, not an iron fist."

Grudgingly, Ellis nodded. “I'll try it your way."

"Good,” she said, turning to leave. As she reached the door, she turned back. “Think about losing the beard, it doesn't look very professional."

Kirsten returned to her office and fell into her chair rubbing the bridge of her nose. She had just blurted out the suggestion to shave the beard. It came out sounding like an order.

On one hand, she supposed she did it to see if he would bend to her will. On the other hand, something about his face seemed familiar and the beard seemed wrong.

She tried to remember the last time she actually watched the holo news, rather than listening to it. Somehow, she thought that if she could remember that date, she might figure out why she asked Ellis to shave.

That afternoon, Ellis emerged from his office. “Simon,” he said, carefully modulating his voice. “I read your afternoon report. It sounds like we're ready to depart for Zahar in the morning."

"That we are, Skipper.” Simon Yermakov stared forward at the viewscreen.

Noticing they were alone on the command deck, Ellis sat in the chair next to his first mate. Leaning over, the captain whispered, “I understand you spoke to the boss after I'd asked you for a report earlier."

Yermakov's eyebrows came together. “It wasn't me,” he said, flatly. The first mate turned to look at the captain. “I may not agree with your ideas about discipline. More to the point, while I don't like your style, I figure you'll settle down after a while."

Ellis examined the two empty stations at the front of the command deck. If Yermakov was not the one who went to Smart, he wondered who was. “I'm glad to hear it wasn't you,” said the captain. “I prefer my officers come to me if they have a problem."

"I prefer my captains read my reports before they demand them in front of junior officers.” Yermakov's eyes were still forward.

Ellis arched an eyebrow and stood to leave.

"If you're here for a bit, I figured I might take a coffee break,” stated Yermakov, wryly.

The captain fought an urge to inform his first mate of his place. “Sure,” sighed Ellis as he sat down. The command seat had never felt so hard.

That night, Ellis stood in the lavatory, in his quarters, staring in the mirror. He debated whether he should shave his beard or not. Neatly trimmed as it was, it did not look unprofessional to him. Besides, he thought, who aside from the crew was going to see it? The captain continued to tug nervously at the beard. Finally, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.