The chief problem with being a free trader during one of the most prolonged conflicts between two major galactic powers was both larger and smaller than one might suspect. The pressing issue that haunted Captain Hetty Gaines was that of spare parts.
Spare parts were dearer than hard currency from either party in the conflict and carried a similar weight of suspicion. Was too much of your ship fabricated or repaired by the General Union when you docked at the United Planetary Authority station?
Did that installment show the steady hand of a well-trained United Planetary Authority tech while under examination at a General Union checkpoint? Hetty’s usual course was to skirt the issue by doing most repairs in-crew and to avoid inspections whenever possible.
Such a shame that none of her people knew how to fix the mangled portside thruster. Val, her com guy, was a wizard with software patches. Hercules could pilot and spot-weld with equal enthusiasm. Zella. their cargo master, was studying wiring conduits in her spare time. The portside thruster’s problems were outside the scope of all of these.
And just now, as they were making a too-fast approach on the UPA’s Sigma station, the port thruster had spewed one last attempt at a course correction and died. Hetty snapped her teeth closed over the torrent of swear words rising on her tongue. The docking ring loomed large on the ship display as the com snapped to life.
“Free-Trader Forthright, This is Sigma ops. Your approach is insolvent. Please reroute to the provided coordinates and reschedule your docking.”
Several of Hetty’s suppressed curses flew from Hercules’ tongue with embellishment. He twisted in his seat to look over at her, the harness of the pilot’s chair straining across his broad chest.
“Cap, they’re sending us to the farthest La Grange point.”
“Of course they are,” Hetty muttered. “Noted. Val. Ping Sigma again and put me on the line. I’ll start negotiating a new docking time.”
“Make sure it’s soon,” Zella broke in on the house com. “These fresh greens won’t last forever.”
And neither will you, Hetty thought as Zella waddled onto Forthright’s command deck. Hercules glanced over at her. His brow knit into a worried frown below his smooth shaved head. After giving her a reassuring grin, he settled into his station again and started the finicky maneuvering toward the La Grange point. They needed to dock not only to deliver their cargo but also so Zella could deliver hers.
“That issue is the very thing that will get us back to the top queue fast. They want our greens as much as we want to sell them our greens. Not many traders are crazy enough to run perishables all the way out here.”
Zella gave her huge belly an absent rub. The fabric of her shipsuit was worn thin with the strain of the baby’s growth these last few months. “Aye, Cap. Looking like Herc Junior will have to be born here, too. Sigma Station. I’d hoped for someplace more auspicious.”
Val let loose a snort that sounded on the house com. “Yes, let’s do the hokey pokey for the poor kid and decide his fate based on the shape of the EMF cloud around the station when he’s born.”
Zella focused her cold blue stare on him. “Just because you’re not a believer…”
“Not true. I believe in the power of me.”
“You shut your trap, Val. Zella knows things. You’re a scoffer. You’ll get yours.”
“Children. What have I said about arguing metaphysics on the command deck?” Hetty broke in.
After a half-hearted mutter of apology, Zella flounced back to the commons. With Hercules Junior’s impending arrival, things would have to change. Herc and Zella would need a station job for the first few years of the baby’s life. That meant a major crew change for Forthright. Val hadn’t been with them as long. Perhaps it would be easiest to replace him as well, to start fresh with a whole new dynamic.
“Sigma on the line, Captain,” Val reported, diverting her musings back to more current concerns.
“Sigma Ops, this is Captain Hetty Gaines of Forthright. We need your next available docking assignment.”
“Captain Gaines. It’s not our problem that your pilot flubbed the dock. We’ve got a lot of traffic right now. You’ll have to wait your turn.”
“I’ve got perishables, onboard, Sigma. If you want salad from this cargo and not soup, you’ll find us an early docking slot.”
“You’re not on the schedule, Forthright. Did you clear this biological shipment with Sigma command?”
Hetty muted her com. “For the Gods’ sake. Who doesn’t like greens?”
Val gave another snort, this one muffled by his muted com and his face pressed into his sleeve.
“Sigma ops, please check with Admiral Thornton. She and I have an agreement,” Hetty said to Sigma ops.
Sigma ops didn’t bother to mute their com as they pinged the admiral. Sigma ops’s quick, dismissive rundown of the situation was quickly interrupted by the admiral’s secretary.
“Captain Hetty Gaines? The Captain Hetty Gaines? Hero of the battle of Antrim VII? It’s noted right here at the top of the roster. Captain Gaines is always to be given every accommodation. Also, the Admiral loves greens. Surely you know that, Lieutenant?”
“New docking slot in thirty,” Val reported as com lit up with Sigma’s incoming data packet. “Hero of the battle of Antrim VII. You didn’t tell me about that during my onboarding orientation.” A mischievous smile spread across his dark and handsome face. “So you fought for the UPA Interesting.”
“I fought for my own best interests,” Hetty countered, though in truth the battle of Antrim VII was much more complicated than that. “You mind your business and I’ll mind mine.”
“Aye, Captain.”
That was a meek enough reply, but not meek enough to keep her from regretting hiring him. She missed Estelle, who ran the ship with her during and after Antrim, and knew better than to mention the past. Estelle, the best com ops she’d ever known. A steady hand on the ship’s cannons too.
Then one day she cashed in her last pay chit and retired to raise chickens. Asked Hetty to join her, truth be told. Hetty couldn’t imagine a life without Forthright or a life without Estelle but damned if she was going to play second fiddle to a flock of laying hens.
“What was that?” Hercules asked, causing Hetty to jerk from her reverie once more.
“Space junk, I think.” Val shifted the view screens from a close-up of the traffic flow around Sigma to their more immediate area. “A little big to be from a ship. You think Sigma is missing a chunk?”
