My designated area was on the Works level. Grace had already shown me around Operations and the crew quarters, but he did so again. My permanent berth was over and down from the Supercargo bunk I’d been in last night. At first I wondered why he’d bothered, but when we got there I realized that not all the cabins had been renovated to the same degree. Supercargo was clearly the guest room. My cabin was meant for living in; more floor space, more storage, the bed could expand to accommodate two, and there was a private viewscreen.
There was also a strong scent of cleaner in there. I’d have to prop the door open so it could air out, but that could wait. It wasn’t like I needed to unpack. All I had to move was the tiny folded stack of my dirty clothes from yesterday from one room to another, which took less than a minute.
Grace watched me do it with a pinched expression. “I wanted to give you time to pick up some necessities while we were still docked, but we’re going to have to move out as soon as our cargo is loaded. I’ve gotten word of some pirate activity in the area and my investors want us out of the area yesterday.”
By some miracle, I did not flinch. I had a good idea who was responsible. Saul didn’t have even a fraction of Captain Kavara’s restraint nor did he have any compunctions about shitting where he ate.
“Fine by me, sir. I’ve got a change of clothes and Elaine showed me how to access the fabbers.”
Grace’s relief was palpable, “Good. I’ll give you some extra feedstock budget to make up for it. We only have the basic open source design libraries, but that should hold you to the next port.”
The idea of spending three months at minimum in two suits with only open source hygiene supplies was ghastly, but still better than the alternative. Extra feedstock probably would not extend to cover a third suit either. I’d have to cash my extra outfit in eventually to get some variety in my wardrobe.
The next stop was the Cargo deck, which was two cavernous spaces below the Works level divided by the elevator shaft. One was loaded with strapped down pallets of designer drinks and some smaller consignments I couldn’t identify. The other was the cryo center.
“How do you balance the load?” I asked as Grace walked me through the empty stalls. There were big units for the big herbivores, but also many smaller units that I hadn’t seen on the security feed. The smallest was still large enough to fit a dog. Considering Grace’s intended business model, it might well be intended for a dog.
“Very carefully," Grace sighed. “We can’t fly empty anymore. It hasn’t happened yet because we are very cautious and don’t enter atmosphere often. Eventually, I’ll end up having to take a worthless cargo just so we can get back underway. My business partner and I have discussed putting in some permanent ballast to counterbalance the cryo equipment, but it hasn’t been necessary yet and I’m not convinced we’ve got our optimum layout. This is all new, after all. We’ll probably have it worked out in the next few runs then we can install the ballast.”
That was a thorny issue and I struggled with it for a minute, despite the fact that it wasn’t my problem. It was easy to say ‘well, just keep a load of something like cement or iron ore that can be offloaded with relative ease’, but bulk dry cargo was more dangerous to carry than the average citizen would think. Aside from obvious hazards like cargo shift or dust, you had to worry about things like liquefaction. Plus, the amount of dry cargo they could move wouldn’t be economical enough for there to be a point.
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“Yes, it’s an annoying problem," Grace laughed at the look on my face. “That’s why we’re sticking to orbital stations until we have it solved. So far, there hasn’t been a reason to descend planetside.”
I kept my concerns to myself. I wasn’t rated for deck or cargo so my opinions were those of an amateur at best. Besides, I didn’t have a better solution.
“Let’s go see your workshop," Grace suggested and I nodded.
We went back up one level. I looked to see if anyone was around, but so far I hadn’t seen anyone except Elaine.
The Works level was as neatly laid out as Operations, although much bigger and had been divided into two floors with a lofted area. I was already a little familiar with it as that’s where the galley and hygiene facilities were. The main corridor forked in front of the elevator and curved around a center bank of chambers running along the centerline of the ship. The showers were located right in front of the elevator and knew from experience that the galley was further down situated between the two big banks of workshops on the bottom floor. What I hadn’t realized was that there was a rec facility immediately above the galley that took up most of the available space on the upper floor.
“Most everyone is on the bottom level, but we converted some storage space up here into another shop.” He nodded to the other side of the rec center, which was a bright room filled with banks of green plants. “Agroponics is opposite you so you’ll probably see a lot of Elaine. She’ll introduce you to everyone else once we’re underway. The others are out getting our live cargo.”
That reminded me. “What exactly are we transporting, sir?”
He grinned. “Turkeys.”
I blinked. Like most spacers, my only frame of reference for a turkey was a flavor name on one of the white meal kits. They were poultry of some sort, I knew that.
Grace took pity on me and explained. “They’re birds from the homeworld and were a common food source in North and South America. The wild ones were supposed to be tricky to hunt, but the domestic ones are very delicate. There’s anecdotal evidence of them drowning in the rain.”
The word ‘America’ jogged my memory. “These are the birds they roasted for holidays, right?”
“Correct. Someone wants to revive that tradition in the Rim worlds and our client has religious taboos regarding lab grown livestock. I wish them luck. I had to factor attrition into our order. They don’t actually drown in their drinking water, but they are prone to sudden hemorrhaging in their kidneys. Everything will be fine once we get them on ice, but the holding company has already lost two.”
“Do you need me in the pod now?” I asked, alarmed, but Grace shook his head.
“Doc will be there to put the birds under and monitor them for the first few hours,” he explained. “Right now, we need you to be present on board for insurance purposes. Your signature will be all I need for the next duty shift. I’ll need the cryobots in place so Doc can go off shift, but that will give you time to familiarize yourself with your troops. I know you’ll need some time to get them working together and accepting your orders.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. It was good that he understood that I’d need some time to get the bots in order and under my command. “They’re probably still keyed to your last driver and it sounds like he left without doing any handovers.”
Grace grimaced. “I’m going to be real with you, Sin,” he sighed and scratched the back of his neck as he dodged her eyes. “It wasn’t a good parting. He jumped ship for a corporate liner and sent me a resignation note from his new berth after they’d already left port. I don’t think he will have left anything ready for you.”
“Uh,” I pursed my lips. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do without, but if I run into anything that’s been security locked I might need you to come and issue a Captain’s Override. I’d rather not revert them to factory settings, if I don’t have to.”
He nodded. “I’ll give your channel priority until tomorrow afternoon. Ping me on ShipNet if you need me—or if you have a question. I’ll have a few days of light duty once we’re under way, so I’ll be available to help you transition.”
“Thank you,” I said, rather than ask how badly my predecessor had meshed with the rest of the crew. Grace, Elaine, and Doc had all been perfectly sweet to me so far, and they hadn’t given me the sense that they were on their good behavior.
Hopefully, they’d just had a personality mismatch that would wind up in my favor, but I hadn’t met the rest of the crew yet.