“Yes, ma’am,” Amalie said. At least she had that part right. Heris nodded.
“Sirkin, take her over to engineering, and introduce her to Haidar and Kulkul—they’re the Environmental first, and Engineering second, Yrilan. I’ll post the relevant orders on the comp for them.”
Amalie started to open her mouth; Sirkin got there first with “Thank you, ma’am,” and pulled her friend along by the arm. Heris shook her head once they were out of sight. What a shame that a brilliant young person like Sirkin had fallen for a loser. She was sure Amalie was a loser; she had seen too many of that type.
Over the next few days, Nasiru Haidar reported that Amalie Yrilan was reasonably willing when supervised, but lacked the expertise she should have had and wouldn’t stick to a job without constant supervision. Padoc Kulkul agreed, and added that he would rather have a dumbot—the lowest level of robotic assistant—than a fluffheaded girl who kept humming popular music off-key.
“About what I thought,” Heris said. “Can you perk her up? Maybe that school—”
“I can try,” Nasiru said. “But how much do you want to risk on her? She’ll never go beyond third class on the exams, I’d bet my last credit chip. Half the work would do twice as much with a good candidate.” Padoc simply shook his head.
“Well, we’re not in the service anymore,” Heris said. “We don’t have an endless supply of recruits. I was hoping—”
“I’ll work on it.” Nasiru sounded not quite grumpy. “But I won’t promise anything. I know Sirkin’s good, but young love doesn’t last forever.”
Heris snorted. “Don’t try to tell them that. We have to remember, we’re all a lot older, and with real experience.” By real, of course, she meant military.
“That one’ll get herself killed, and maybe her friends,” Padoc said. “You know we all like young Sirkin, but—Amalie’s like that cute little kid back on Fisk.” Heris raised her brows, but he didn’t back down. The cute little kid on Fisk had been someone important’s nephew, and he had hit the wrong control in combat and—luckily—died along with those his idiocy killed. Turned out his uncle had known about the addiction problem, but concealed it in the hopes that life on a ship would straighten him out.
“Well, if she’s that bad, we don’t want her,” Heris said. “I know that. But as long as we’re in dock, she can’t hurt us that much, and we just might pull off a miracle.”
“There’s a slight chance that you may have some trouble dockside,” Heris said. She had called the crew together before giving them Station liberty. “Those of you who were aboard at the time know about the smugglers’ stash. If they choose to retaliate for its loss—”
“But they’ve already killed Olin,” Petris said.
“Wouldn’t they go after Lady Cecelia?” asked Nasiru. “Or the ship itself?”
“They might. But they also might make an example of a crew member.” She knew her ex-military crew would know how to handle any invitations to criminality, but Sirkin and Yrilan were young and vulnerable, bait for everything from gambling sharks to smugglers. “I suggest you travel in pairs, at least, and keep your eyes open. You’re not children, to be coddled and watched over, but as long as we don’t know what the danger is, you’re vulnerable. I’m not sure just how far they’ll go to express their displeasure. If you want to indulge in anything mind-altering, be sure you’re in a safe place.”
“If there’s trouble, how about weapons?” Oblo, as usual with a fight even remotely in view, looked both sleepy and happy. The sleepiness was entirely deceptive.
“No. Not on Station. We don’t need legal trouble as well as illegal. And given Lady Cecelia’s . . . mmm . . . connections, we could even have political trouble. Fight if you have to, but call for the gendarmes right away.”
“Yes, ma’am.” That with a heavy-lidded look that meant he would interpret it in his own way. Petris gave him a sharp glance, and Heris told herself to talk to Petris about Oblo before he had a shift off. His formidable brawling skills should be reserved for times they needed them, not wasted on casual displays.
Chapter Four
Under the supervision of Nasiru Haidar, Yrilan earned her pay. Heris had to respect her for coming back, shift after shift, to face the grudging acceptance of the rest of the crew. Sirkin, she noticed, stayed clear of Yrilan during work hours, but she was looking increasingly tense. Heris assumed that meant they hadn’t found a joint berth on some other ship. Sirkin would be facing a hard decision soon enough; Heris didn’t try to offer advice she was sure the younger woman would resent.
On the day they completed the new installations, which would be sealed again when the yacht entered the refitting docks, Heris gave the crew a half-shift bonus off. She gave Ginese the standing watch, and finished the interminable forms necessary to clear the Royal Docks and transfer the ship around the station on the next mainshift but one. She hated the thought of letting a tug do the shift but those were the rules. She expected all the off-duty crew to be gone by the time she finished, but as it happened she left the ship just behind Sirkin and Yrilan. They were not quite holding hands as they hurried through the Royal sector to the public concourse beyond. She wondered if they’d job hunt or spend the extra time another way.
They seemed to be headed the same direction she was. Once in the transit car, they shared a seat at the far end. Heris hung back at the exit, hoping they wouldn’t think she was following them, but traffic was light, just before shiftchange. In another half hour, all transit tubes would be crowded. She dawdled, glancing at a shop window down the concourse from the Captain’s Guild, until they were nearly out of sight around the curve.
Heris turned into the Captains’ Guild, mentally shaking her head. When she’d been that young, she hadn’t been unlucky enough to fall that far in love. Sirkin and Yrilan were together, but it could hardly be called alert awareness of possible danger. Yet it would do no good to suggest anything to them; they might try, but in twenty paces they’d be back to concentrating on each other. At least Sirkin had basic good sense, and they had promised to bunk aboard until the decorators took the ship over. Surely they wouldn’t get in much trouble. After all, Oblo had the history of dockside and planetside brawls.
The Captains’ Guild rooms had begun to look familiar, and the Warden knew her now. She posted her daily report, and looked over the news. Here again, the different format had begun to make sense. Which ships were in, with which captains, reporting changes they’d noted in their routes. She was looking specifically for anything to suggest what Captain Olin had been doing in the regions where he’d hung about as if looking for a rendezvous. So far, she’d found no comment helpful. After all, if another captain was up to the same game, she could hardly expect an honest report to the Captains’ Guild.
“Captain Serrano’s following us,” Yrilan said. “We’re off duty—she doesn’t have to—”
“Captains’ Guild’s down this way,” Sirkin said. “Don’t get paranoid, Amalie. She isn’t bothering us.”
“Just wish she’d mind her own—” Yrilan glanced over her shoulder and turned back. “Or catch up. Something.”
Sirkin laughed. “What’ve you done or not done that you think she’ll scold you for? You’re trying, aren’t you?”
Yrilan nodded. “ ‘Course I am, but it’s a lot harder than school. That Haidar is so picky. I swear he watches me every second, and he wants everything to be just so.”
“But you’re learning,” Sirkin said. “And we’re together.” For how long? she asked herself. She had overheard some of Haidar’s comments, and even more from Kulkul. They didn’t think the captain should hire Yrilan permanently. She forced herself not to think about it. They had a full three-shift off, and for once the money to enjoy it. “Where shall we eat?” she asked. “Why not a dinner-dance place like Califa’s?”