indicated a door I’d taken for a closet, but which indeed led to a small private bathroom, almost big enough for a grown adult to stand in without banging their elbows on both walls at once. “Okay?”
“More than okay,” I assured her. “I’d thought there’d just be a communal one.”
“Guilders like their privacy,” Clio told me. “Especially on a ship this size. Otherwise things can get . . . tense.”
“I guess so,” I agreed, happy to take her word for it. “How many people are there aboard?”
“Seventeen, last time I looked,” Clio said. “Counting you.”
“Seventeen,” I said. I was no expert, but that seemed pretty low for a ship this size. The Queen Kylie’s Revenge had almost two hundred officers and ratings aboard; all right, a lot of them were gunners, or other specialists a civilian cargo barge had no use for, but even so . . .
Clio nodded, clearly reading the doubt on my face. “It is a bit high,” she said, “but John’s a soft touch. Doesn’t like to split families.” She shot another appraising glance in my direction. “Or lose the chance of a bit of goodwill from a regular client.”
“I’m sure he and my aunt have the measure of each other,” I said, trying not to think too hard about our earlier conversation on the subject.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Clio agreed, with a faint smile. She glanced at my kitbags, still lying on the bunk where I’d dumped them. “Do you want to unpack now, or go see the skipper?”
“Skipper,” I said. Stowing my few remaining belongings would only take a handful of minutes, and I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the captain. The trip to Numarkut wouldn’t take very long, and I felt I’d need every moment of it to make a good enough impression to be allowed to join the crew on a permanent basis.
“Skipper it is,” Clio agreed, stepping back into the corridor to make enough room for me to leave.
I followed, and slid the door closed, tripping the latch. “How do you lock it?” I asked, after a moment of fumbling.
“Lock it?” Clio looked surprised. “Why would you want to?” Sure enough, on closer examination, none of the doors in the corridor seemed to have locking plates.
“Security? Privacy?” I ventured.
“No one’s going to steal anything,” Clio told me, looking faintly offended. “Where would they go afterwards? But if it really matters to you . . .” She pulled a reasonably clean handkerchief from her pocket, and draped it over the handle. “No one’ll go in now.”
“Really?” I glanced up and down the corridor; sure enough, a few of the other doors had pieces of cloth tied to them, apparently indicating a desire for privacy on the part of the occupants—as we passed one, I heard what sounded like the echoes of energetic carnal congress within, and I picked up my pace a little, trying to look casual.
Clio smirked. “Not many prudes on a starship,” she said, reading my embarrassment rather too easily.
“I’ll let you know if I find any,” I retorted, failing to fool her for a second.
CHAPTER NINE
In which my first voyage commences, and I’m sent to fetch tea.
Captain Remington was, as I’d expected, on the bridge, though not, as I’d expected, barking orders at his subordinates in the way that my mother would have been. I’d half hoped and half expected Clio to accompany me the whole way, but after steering me back to the stairwell she simply meshed our ‘spheres for a moment and transferred a schematic of the Stacked Deck across to mine.
You can’t miss it , she assured me, and clattered back down the stairs to resume whatever job it was in the cargo hold that my arrival had interrupted.
In that, at least, she was right; a couple of flights further up, and I was in the nerve center of the entire ship. I must admit that, crossing the threshold, I felt a little tingle of excitement—which fizzled out almost immediately, as soon as the realization sank in that
“More than okay,” I assured her. “I’d thought there’d just be a communal one.”
“Guilders like their privacy,” Clio told me. “Especially on a ship this size. Otherwise things can get . . . tense.”
“I guess so,” I agreed, happy to take her word for it. “How many people are there aboard?”
“Seventeen, last time I looked,” Clio said. “Counting you.”
“Seventeen,” I said. I was no expert, but that seemed pretty low for a ship this size. The Queen Kylie’s Revenge had almost two hundred officers and ratings aboard; all right, a lot of them were gunners, or other specialists a civilian cargo barge had no use for, but even so . . .
Clio nodded, clearly reading the doubt on my face. “It is a bit high,” she said, “but John’s a soft touch. Doesn’t like to split families.” She shot another appraising glance in my direction. “Or lose the chance of a bit of goodwill from a regular client.”
“I’m sure he and my aunt have the measure of each other,” I said, trying not to think too hard about our earlier conversation on the subject.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Clio agreed, with a faint smile. She glanced at my kitbags, still lying on the bunk where I’d dumped them. “Do you want to unpack now, or go see the skipper?”
“Skipper,” I said. Stowing my few remaining belongings would only take a handful of minutes, and I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the captain. The trip to Numarkut wouldn’t take very long, and I felt I’d need every moment of it to make a good enough impression to be allowed to join the crew on a permanent basis.
“Skipper it is,” Clio agreed, stepping back into the corridor to make enough room for me to leave.
I followed, and slid the door closed, tripping the latch. “How do you lock it?” I asked, after a moment of fumbling.
“Lock it?” Clio looked surprised. “Why would you want to?” Sure enough, on closer examination, none of the doors in the corridor seemed to have locking plates.
“Security? Privacy?” I ventured.
“No one’s going to steal anything,” Clio told me, looking faintly offended. “Where would they go afterwards? But if it really matters to you . . .” She pulled a reasonably clean handkerchief from her pocket, and draped it over the handle. “No one’ll go in now.”
“Really?” I glanced up and down the corridor; sure enough, a few of the other doors had pieces of cloth tied to them, apparently indicating a desire for privacy on the part of the occupants—as we passed one, I heard what sounded like the echoes of energetic carnal congress within, and I picked up my pace a little, trying to look casual.
Clio smirked. “Not many prudes on a starship,” she said, reading my embarrassment rather too easily.
“I’ll let you know if I find any,” I retorted, failing to fool her for a second.
CHAPTER NINE
In which my first voyage commences, and I’m sent to fetch tea.
Captain Remington was, as I’d expected, on the bridge, though not, as I’d expected, barking orders at his subordinates in the way that my mother would have been. I’d half hoped and half expected Clio to accompany me the whole way, but after steering me back to the stairwell she simply meshed our ‘spheres for a moment and transferred a schematic of the Stacked Deck across to mine.
You can’t miss it , she assured me, and clattered back down the stairs to resume whatever job it was in the cargo hold that my arrival had interrupted.
In that, at least, she was right; a couple of flights further up, and I was in the nerve center of the entire ship. I must admit that, crossing the threshold, I felt a little tingle of excitement—which fizzled out almost immediately, as soon as the realization sank in that
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