Inadvertent Adventures (16 page)

"Yes, Ma'am," Katrina said with enthusiasm, coming to attention and smiling like her face was about to split in half.

"You're going to have to spend a lot of time studying ship systems. You'll have proficiency checks to make sure you can do the right thing in an emergency before we leave you alone in any portion of the ship," Ann continued, but the girl didn't bat an eyelash. "I think we can get the most out of you as cook while you're learning. It'll give you the time between meals to study. Besides, the food has been a lot better since you started helping CM."

Katrina giggled, then said, "Yes, Ma'am. What should I do now?"

"Unpack--if you bothered to pack, that is. Then report to CM and tell her that you're
her
apprentice now." Ann smiled serenely. "I owe her that."

"Yes, Ma'am," Katrina said brightly and spun away, all but dancing into the ship.

Ann muttered, "Yes, indeed, I owe Carrie-Marie for not telling me she couldn't cook when I hired her," then turned back to the business of unloading her ship.

* * *

Katrina returned to her stateroom with a huge smile on her face.
Should I tell Dear Old Daddy?
she thought, but shook her head and giggled.
He’s already mad enough. If I rub his nose in his failure to break me, he might get off his ass and do something about it.
She giggled again and spun around in her first truly free moment, then headed toward the galley and CM.

* * *

The stay in Nepal was dismal. There were no cargos going out that the
Admiral Ann's Revenge
could hold. Worse, because of the size of the ship, it was costing them a thousand credits a day to stay hooked up to the station, so they'd had to move to a remote anchorage.

"We may as well face it, Ann: We're going to have to take a loss on this trip," Sterling said as the whole crew gathered at the wardroom table for a brainstorming session.

"This happened on the
Jane
about twice a year, Captain," Denise put in. "There's nothing to do but use the ship's account for fuel and go somewhere more prosperous."

"We could make a short hop to Karnack. New Kingdom usually has medium sized shipments of spices going out," Olaf suggested.

"Twenty-three days of fuel on a maybe," Ann mused.

"Captain?" Katrina said, raising her hand like a school-girl.

"Yes, Katrina?"

"There are a lot of pilgrims on the station."

Ann looked at her and tilted her head to the side. "And?"

"The
Revenge
can handle a hundred and sixty-something more people than we have on board," she pointed out. "The pilgrims are waiting for 'steerage' space on the large freighters. It's all most of them can afford. What's 'steerage' anyway?"

"The cheap seats. No-frills passage, in horrid conditions," Denise said. "I did it once. I'd rather sign onto a tramp and work my way."

"Could we do it?" Sterling asked.

"I think so," Ann said as she scanned the room. "We'd have to take on additional supplies. CM, what about cooking for a hundred and fifty?"

Carrie-Marie looked back at her with wide eyes. "I can hardly cook for ten, Captain! I'd need help."

"You have help," Ann said, nodding to Katrina.

"More!
Lots
more! Captain, cooking for a hundred or so people is way different than cooking for ten. I wasn't a Mess Specialist, but I saw how hard their job was. I couldn't do it." She sat back and shook her head as she almost gasped for breath.

"She's right, Captain," Balder said, speaking up for the first time. "You'd have to hire more people. At least four more cooks."

"And I can't. Or rather, I won't. A passenger or two once in a while," she said, looking at Katrina, "is one thing. Turning into a tramp liner is something else. We'd also have to come up with mattresses for everyone. The crew's quarters only have unpadded bunk-pans."

Sterling nodded. "Then I don't see an option. We have to--" The tone indicating a message directed at the
Revenge
sounded just then, interrupting him.

Ann and Sterling both went to the communications station and Ann hit the receive button. "Captain Stevenson of the
Admiral Ann's Revenge
speaking," she announced. "Identify, please."

"Captain, I am Anthor Kareem, of the Katmandu Ship Yard. I understand that your ship is capable of carrying over fifteen thousand tons of cargo. Is this correct?"

"Yes, Sir, we can handle nineteen thousand tons. What cargo do you have?" Ann answered, smiling at Sterling.

"We have a shipment of parts going to the Newberry Shipyard in orbit around Greater Montreal. It is only fifteen thousand tons, but is urgently needed. None of the big ships will take it unless we have a full load for them."

"Understood, Sir. Where do we make pickup, and what is the payment?" Ann asked as her crew moved to their stations.

"Pickup at the Yard Office in orbit around the moon Llama. The paperwork will be ready for your immediate loading. Payment will be one hundred seventeen thousand Confederate credits on delivery. And Captain, that is
after
delivery."

"You heard about that, did you?" Ann asked.

"Gossip is the only FTL form of communication known to man, Captain. The wording of this contract is very precise."

Ann took a deep breath. "Understood, Mister Kareem. We'll be at the yard in about three hours."

"We will be waiting, Captain Stevenson."

* * *

The parts were loaded and the
Admiral Ann's Revenge
was on her way eight hours later. It was going to be a long trip, thirteen days ship time in hyper, and everyone was in a hurry to get it over with.

The
Admiral Ann's Revenge
slipped into hyper just before a radio message could catch up with her. It was from Mister Von Frankel of DA-CC and addressed to Captain Stevenson.

"Where is Katrina Von Rubenstein?! What have you done with the Chairman's daughter?!"

K
ATRINA WAS QUICKLY BEING TURNED INTO
a good spacer by the simple application of a good example. Her initial hero-worship of Ann was in no way diminished by familiarity. If anything, it was being reinforced by Ann's easy-going, calm, and friendly way of dealing with everyone. It was nothing like home, where her father ruled his home like his business.

Brandon Eric Von Rubenstein was all business, all the time. Nannies raised his children: One born every two years, on schedule. He was never seen as a kind or loving figure in his family's eyes. He was Father: never Dad. Katrina's mother was his third wife, and, while she was far warmer than her husband, she obeyed him like an employee, and her children were raised as he decreed.

The camaraderie of the crew was something new to Katrina. It was almost like a holo-drama family, the kind Katrina had believed only existed in fantasy.

Carrie-Marie had taken charge of Katrina immediately. "Well, Kat, I see she went for it," was all Carrie-Marie had said when Katrina had all but danced into the wardroom galley after getting permission to stay on board. Now, five days later, it seemed like she'd always been there.

Becoming a crew-member had been quite an adjustment at first. She had come aboard as a passenger, and had helped in the kitchen out of boredom. Captain Stevenson hadn't exaggerated the
Revenge's
lack of entertainment facilities. Now she was responsible, under Carrie-Marie's direction, for all of the crew's meals.

Carrie-Marie was sympathetic. "I know it's hard. Just try not to poison anyone," she'd said as she patted Katrina's shoulder.

"Cooking's not really hard, CM. If you look at it right, it's just chemistry," Katrina had replied. "The hard part is planning the menu so it's not repetitive or clashing. It's
hard
to arrange four meals a day in rotation so that each compliments the one before and after. It's a lot harder than our chef made it look."

"Oh, cooking's as easy as chemistry, is it? And what if you can't handle chemistry either?" Carrie-Marie asked as she stared at Katrina with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Then you're in trouble. By the way, I have my Bachelor's Degree in BioChem. My father's idea. He thought a science background would make me helpful to my husband."

"Husband?" Carrie-Marie asked curiously.

"He had several picked out. He picked husbands for my sisters and wives for my brothers as well. They were all very wellbred young men and women; all rich, in other words. Everyone else bowed and said,
'Yes, Vater
,' so they could keep their inheritance." She fished a credit chip out of her pocket. "I checked as soon as we arrived in Nepal. I have a thousand credits left. The last time I looked, before I fought with my father, it said 'unlimited'."

"You'll earn a bit every trip, Kat, just like the rest of us. The trick will be saving it instead of impulse-buying your whole pay away." Carrie-Marie smiled and shook her head. "I should talk. In the Navy I was never any good at holding onto my pay. I've been doing better since then. You might consult the Mess Specialist Rating Manuals for help with the menus. There are copies in the computer."

Katrina looked at her curiously. "Mess Specialist?"

"It's what the Navy calls our cooks. In fact, that's something I should have suggested before. They'll help you with your ship-system studies as well."

Katrina nodded and turned to the computer, typing in a request for the manuals while Carrie-Marie turned back to her own work.

* * *

The star Quebec had been discovered by one of Canada's early exploration ships. Her captain, Henry Lafarge, had been a native of Montreal on Earth and had named the star and planet after his home. Greater Montreal was a close match to Old Earth, with sixty-three percent of its surface covered by oceans. Tectonic activity had fractured its continents and raised high mountain ranges that rivaled anything on Earth.

The flora and fauna of Greater Montreal were remarkably Earth-like as well, and many of the native plants could be eaten by humans. Unfortunately, many of the local bugs, both microscopic and macroscopic, found humans edible as well, and several plagues had ravaged the population over the centuries.

Greater Montreal was also home to one of the few semi-sentient species they had found. The Greatfish, a shark-like predator with rudimentary hands at the ends of six of its appendages, showed intelligence on a level with Terran Lupines. Like wolves, they were cooperative pack hunters. Unfortunately, they seemed to have a taste for human flesh, and swimming areas had to be carefully shielded for safety.

The Newberry Shipyard was in a high orbit and well away from the crowded shipping lanes near the planet. The
Admiral Ann's Revenge
delivered their shipment and received payment once the last crate was on the dock. Then they moved to the magnificent Samuel de Champlain Space Dock, Greater Montreal's premier space station. Ann registered for a cargo, and the whole crew went to explore the station.

The people of Greater Montreal were justifiably proud of the Champlain Station, and it showed. There were no shabby corners on
this
station. Everything gleamed with a nearly-new air of loving care that was all too rare in the older parts of the Confederacy.

Ann had distributed the crew's shares early, and had ended up giving each of them sixteen-hundred credits--except Katrina, who received eight hundred. Katrina had taken her share without protest. She had agreed to half-shares until she was a qualified spacer, and knew that she had a long way to go.

* * *

Katrina was in heaven, lack of funds or not. This was what she'd run away to see. Even if she never made it planet-side, just seeing what another culture had made of its space station was a treat. She rubbernecked shamelessly, relying on Bart, Mandy, and Carrie-Marie to keep her from getting lost. The first place they went was a bar--the first real bar Katrina had ever entered.

Bart led them to a table and flopped gracelessly into a chair. The three women circled once before they picked their seats. Katrina ended up across the table from Bart, and grinned at his perplexed expression. A waitress was there almost immediately, forestalling any comment he might have made.

"What'll it be, friends?" she asked, smiling at all of them, but especially Bart.

"I'll take a fusion explosion," Bart replied, smiling back at the woman.

"Blessed Mary for me," Carrie-Marie said, drawing the waitress's attention away from Bart.

"New Erin whiskey, neat," Mandy said, drawing wide-eyed glances from the others.

"I've never…" Katrina admitted shyly.

"I'd suggest a Shakespearian Sonnet," Bart said, grinning at her. "They aren't really that powerful, but they do tend to make people wax poetic."

Katrina grinned happily across the table. "Oh, that's silly, Bart. But I'll try it." She looked at the waitress, but she had already started moving toward the bar. "What's in it?" she asked as she transferred her attention back to Bart.

"It's a blend of fruit juices with just a hint of vodka. Which fruits depend on which planet you're orbiting."

"Just be careful and don't overdo it," Mandy cautioned her. "You may not taste the alcohol, but it'll sneak up on you when you least expect it."

The four young members of the crew weren't the only ones out for a drink. Ann, Sterling, Olaf and Denise had ambled off together to a nearby bar for some drinks and a bite to eat that hadn't come from Katrina's chemistry set.

"Ah, damn, that's good," Olaf sighed as he took a big bite of what was passed off as 'steak' in this place. "The kid's got talent, but she's thrown a few too many spices in once in a while."

"I agree," Ann said as she drove her fork into a huge salad. "Katrina is putting her education to good use, but I think I'll talk to her about toning it down a bit. What we really need is a small craft menu and recipe book."

"We should be able to download something from the library, or buy it at a ship's supply shop."

"Let's do tha—“ she was interrupted by the chirp of her communicator. “What the hell, can't I get away for a minute?" Ann asked as she pulled her communicator off her belt. "Captain speaking," she said as she scowled at the com.