"Damn compressor going in my ear," Bet said. "I never heard the bell. Bernstein wants to see me, I got an idea I'm going to catch hell."
"Well, lookit what we got," a tech named Linden jeered at NG's back, sitting down with a couple of his buddies, and NG heard it, Bet figured, since she did; but Musa leaned over to look past NG, and said, loudly:
"Is that Linden Hughes down there? H'lo, Lindy! How's it going?"
"How you doin', Musa?" the answer came back, man leaning to see who that was, a whole lot more polite.
"Not so bad." Musa leaned back again, and Linden Hughes leaned back, avoiding conversation. NG, between, swallowed a last gulp of his sandwich and washed it down, fast, finishing the beer.
"Going to my hammock," NG said. "Thanks."
"Damn mouth," Bet said. "NG—"
"Let it go," Musa said, putting a hand on her knee; and NG just went to wash up and turn in.
"It's not damn right," she said.
"Shut up," Musa said.
So she shut up, Musa's advice generally seeming worth listening to.
CHAPTER 13
Quiet night, all told. The morning bell went off and the com flooded announcements at them:
This is the captain speaking. We've passed beyond our alert parameters without incident. I'm downgrading the alert to stand-by. We're remaining on passive-scan only. We've communicated our sighting to an allied ship which made jump during the last watch…
No different than in the Fleet, Bet thought. You got your information after the fact and if you got killed it was generally a surprise to you.
So the hammocks stayed rigged, but you could get back in quarters and get a shower, which was high priority after a jump right along with other things, your skin tending to shed a bit and whatever you were wearing tending to make its seams too well acquainted with your joints, not mentioning it smelled like old laundry. So she took a fast one, changed to sweater and pants and kited on out to breakfast—no sign of Musa and NG, which meant she was running late or they were in the showers.
Chrono by the counter said a little late. So she put a little push on it, gulped her toast and tea and a cup of orange, and headed on to Engineering.
Musa was there. Musa gave her a jaw-down nod and a cut of the eyes toward Bernstein, and she wiped her hands off on her pants and went over to Bernstein's station.
"Sir."
Bernstein gave her a slow look. "You want to tell me about the com?"
"No, sir."
"You tell me about the com, Yeager."
"Yes, sir. Fell out of my ear, sir."
"Didn't hear the bell."
"No, sir. Thank you for the page, sir."
Bernstein looked at her a long few seconds.
"You stayed in there getting that fuckin' water on. You damn fool, if that line wasn't secure we could've emptied the damn tank all over rec-deck."
"Yessir. But I dunno heaters. Just pipes. Didn't want anything to blow. So I turned it on."
"That's the trouble with you damn big-ship trainees. You dunno heaters. You know pipes. Everybody's a fuckin' specialist."
"Yessir."
"What'd you do as a hire-on?"
"Sit watch, sir. Small repair. Never claimed I was more'n that when I hired on. Said I wouldn't muck with a system I didn't know, sir. But I didn't figure a galley heater was critical to the ship."
Bernstein stared at her like she was something he was thinking about stepping on.
"What condition was that line in when you got my page?"
"Just wasn't hooked on the clip-end, sir. I heard you, I hooked it up, I cut the water on, I moved, sir."
Long silence out of Bernstein. Long, deep breath. "Yeager?"
"Sir."
"You come on here with no papers, you got the spottiest damn training I ever worked with—I ought to chuck you right over to Orsini and let him put you in Services."
"Yessir."
"'Yessir.' 'Nossir.'—You got an opinion, Yeager?"
"Rather be in Engineering, sir."
"Tell me the truth, Yeager. Did you ever have papers?"
"Lost 'em in the War, sir."
"Don't lie to me."
"No, sir."
Another long silence. "Spottiest damn training I ever worked with," Bernstein said. "But you got the hands and you got the nerves. You know anything I can rely on, Yeager?"
"Hydraulics, sir. Electronics."
"What else?"
She thought fast and hard. "Small com systems. All small systems. Motors. Pumps."
Bernstein frowned. "Real specialist. What class freighters you been working on?"
"Small, sir. Some stationside work." She drew a breath, took the jump, because she wanted to establish her alibis. "Did a little stint in militia before this."
"Where?" Bernstein asked sharply.
"Pan-paris." Records were blown there. It was Union territory now. No way to check it. No way to check anything she claimed there.
"You ever worked with weapons-systems?"
"A little." The air felt too thin. She cleared her throat. "Much as a merchanter carries, sir. And station systems. Small stuff."
Bernstein sat looking at her. Looked at her up and down. Nodded slowly. "Tell you what I'm going to do, Yeager. I'm just going to keep this in mind. You just don't do any damn showoff stunt again."
"Yessir."
"Sign in."
"Yessir." The hand twitched. She didn't move it. She found her shoulders in a brace and gulped air and relaxed, walked over and did the sign-in, exchange with Jim Merrill, who was waiting with no great cheerfulness, with Ernst Freeman.
"Take your time," Merrill said.
"Sorry about that," she said.
"You got no continuances except the clean-up in shop."
"Right," she said. "Thanks, Merrill."
"Where's NG?" Freeman asked.
"I dunno," she said, and looked around, all the way around. Freeman was NG's mainday. Freeman was still standing here, not waiting on Merrill, Merrill having left. "I'll find out."
Her eye tracked to the clock. Fifteen minutes past. Her heart sped up. She went over to Musa, at the counter an aisle back. "Musa," she whispered, "—where's NG?"
Bernstein came walking from the other direction. "Either of you seen NG this morning?"
"No, sir," Bet said.
"Saw him in quarters," Musa said, frowning.
"Shit," Bernstein said, and yelled at Freeman: "Go on, you're relieved. I'll cover you myself."
Freeman left.
"Shit," Bernstein said again. "Musa, go look in the shop."
"Yessir," Musa said, and left.
Best they could do, Bet thought. Short shift, boards to be covered, NG missing and Musa off looking—that left herself and Bernstein.
So she grabbed the board and ran NG's checks, took down numbers and called Bernstein to look-see on a fluctuation. "Inside parameters," Bernstein said.
About that time Musa came back. "Not in the shop," Musa said.
"I'll check quarters," Bet said.
"He's not there," Bernstein said. "I already put in a call. Man's ducked into some hole, is what. Shit!"
"Let me try to find him," Musa said. "Sir."
"This department's got work to do, dammit! Get on that check, or we're going to have Orsini down here.—Damn that sonuvabitch!"
"Let me look," Bet said.
"You don't know where to look."
"I know a few places. I seen a few things on this ship. Sir. Please."
"If you find him—"
"If I can get him back here—"
"You got an hour," Bernstein said. "You try the core-access, you try the lockers, the stowages—"