“All right,” he confirmed what was in front of him. “Intercom to Record.” He nodded at her.
Dobbs took a deep breath. “This is Master of Craft Evelyn Dobbs, registry number two-zero-three-seven. I am arriving at Guild Hall Station aboard the independent mail packet Pasadena. We are low on fuel and reaction mass and require assistance. Refer all queries to Guild Master Matthew Havelock. We can be reached at…” Lipinski wrote the Pasadena’s address codes on the board and Dobbs read them off. “This is an emergency situation. The safety of the crew is at stake.”
“Intercom to close.” Lipinski directed the recording out onto the lines. “Nicely urgent. You’re good at this.”
“Beginner’s luck.” She gave him the first real smile she’d felt in days. He didn’t return it, but his eyes had lost some of their bleakness.
She nodded, turned and cycled the hatch back open. It’ll be enough, she told herself again. It’ll have to be enough.
Chapter Nine — Guild Hall
Strapped in at her station in engineering, Al Shei watched the Guild Hall growing closer. A rumble traveled up through the deck plates. Yerusha must have ordered a torch burst to bring the ship around a little. The station shifted a little left of center in Al Shei’s view screen.
Guild Hall was a lonely looking place, orbiting on its own around a greasy brown-and-grey striped gas giant. It had been built on the same pattern as Port Oberon, but only had two rows of cans encircling its core. The Pasadena was fifty clicks away and closing, but even at maximum magnification, Al Shei could see only five ships docked against the core. She’d checked the records. The nearest outpost was four days away, and that was a mostly automated gas mining operation.
What made you pick such an isolated spot to train clowns? she wondered, tugging at her sleeve. Even if they are undercover clowns.
She had to conceded that they were well-trained clowns. Dobbs had been everywhere at once on the run here, calming and cheering whoever she could. She had steered subtly clear of Al Shei herself, Resit, Lipinski and Schyler, only reporting in now and then about the status of morale, which was surprisingly high, especially now that there was the prospect of genuine help.
Genuine but reluctant. Al Shei shook her head remembering the message from Guild Master Havelock.
“Because of the status of extreme emergency, the Pasadena is given permission to dock at Guild Hall Station for refueling purposes. Fuel and reaction mass will be supplied at the price of the recovery costs. No station leave is to be granted under any circumstances to non-Guild personnel.”
She had bridled at the hard line, but tried to keep her temper. Knowing what she did about the Guild now, she could understand, a little, why casual visitors might not be welcome. Especially visitors who might understand what they were looking at, or overhearing.
Dobbs, of course, was insisting to the crew that it was just that the Guild was jealously guarding its custard pie recipe.
The rumble beneath Al Shei’s feet died as the order came down from Yerusha to cut the torch burst. The core drifted toward Pasadena until it filled the entire view screen with a silver-and-white wall of ceramic panels, solar collectors and spidery antennas.
There was a slight jerk as the docking trolley caught them and a familiar, if lopsided, sensation of movement as they were towed into place. After a few moments the sensation stopped. The ship was clamped to the core.
“Intercom to Al Shei,” came Lipinski’s voice. “Routing down a message from the Fool’s Guild.”
The screen above her board flickered from grey to blue. “Receiving,” she acknowledged.
A woman’s head and shoulders appeared. She had a long, pointy face that was somewhere past middle-age. Grey streaked her straight, black hair.
“Good afternoon, ‘Dama Al Shei.” She also had a deep, pleasant voice. A gold star had been threaded onto her Guild necklace. “I am Guild Master Ferrand. I’ll be assisting with your re-fueling and anything else you might need. I’m empowered to negotiate if you need food supplies, or water.” Her smile was friendly, but no more than that. “You’ll excuse us if things are a little clumsy on this end. This is not something we were ready for.”
Well, we weren’t exactly planning it either.
“I understand perfectly, Guild Master.” Al Shei surprised herself by trying to see behind the image of the woman’s dark eyes. What is my problem? They’re helping us. “And as regards to the packet we were bringing you?”
“We’ve been in contact with Master Dobbs. It’s already been removed.”
Al Shei felt a weight slide off her back. “Well then, I’ll get my galley crew on the line to discuss our supply situation. May I reach you at this address?” She drew her pen across the origin code, freezing it in place. “I’d like to transmit our fuel and reaction mass requirements.”
Ferrand nodded. “The sooner I can get that information, the better. I’m on call for you, ‘Dama. I’ve also been instructed to inform you that a message has been sent to Master Dobbs. She needs to report to Guild Master Havelock as soon as is convenient for you.”
“Certainly.” Al Shei scribbled a note on the board and sent it to Dobbs’s cabin. “I’m releasing her for leave now.”
“Thank you.” Guild Master Ferrand lit up her friendly smile again. “Well, you talk to your galley, I’ll talk to my tanker coordinators, and then we’ll talk to each other again.”
“Thank you for your help,” said Al Shei. “We would have been more than lost without you.”
Al Shei expected ‘you’re welcome,’ but Ferrand just gave her a nod that was exactly as friendly as her smile and closed the line down.
Al Shei watched the blank screen for a moment, tugging at her sleeve. You know that I know, Guild Master, why do you still keep up the facade? She shook her head and tried to tell herself it was habit. These were the Fools, the most sought after crew members in Settled Space. What was more, they were watchdogs with a sense of duty that stretched back two centuries. Even as her family calculated things, that was a respectable length of time.
I just need to adjust to their new role, she told herself. I just need time.
But she remembered Guild Master Ferrand’s blank, friendly eyes, and found she couldn’t quite believe that.
She reached up under her hijab and rubbed her temple.
All right, all right. I’ve at least got to put my worries in some kind of priority.
“Intercom to Schyler, Yerusha and Resit.” She slumped back into her chair. “Schyler and Yerusha, you figure out what we need to top up the tanks. Resit, you get us a deal for as much of that as the Fools are willing to part with. Get minimum figures from Schyler and Yerusha. You two be generous with those, all right?”
“Working on it now,” came back Schyler’s voice.
“We’ve already got them committed to market price,” said Resit. “I’ll do my best on the quantities.”
“Thank you. Intercom to close.” Well, that’s in capable hands. She tugged at her sleeve. “Intercom to Lipinski. Has Dobbs told you where the bank lines are around here?”
“Found them fifteen minutes ago,” he answered.
“Good.” That’s one more little victory. “I need that line to Asil as soon as you can get it.”
“On it. Intercom to close.”
Al Shei slumped back in the chair and rubbed both temples with her fingertips. It had been too much, it had been far too much. She was tired. She felt more lost now than she had when she didn’t know where she was.