Captain's Share (Trader's Tales From The Golden Age Of The Solar Clipper) (Volume 5)
Nathan Lowell
Language: English
Pages: 418
ISBN: 1940575044
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A good captain protects his crew. Who protects the captain? A shuffling of cabins puts Ishmael Horatio Wang in command of the worst ship in the fleet. He learns that being captain doesn't make you infallible and that life in the captain's cabin is filled with new kinds of challenge as he tries to keep the ship moving, the crew out of trouble, and turn a profit to earn his Captain's Share. In a ship where the officers outnumber the crew, can he keep everybody happy? Welcome to the SC Agamemnon.
3:16: Carnage Amongst the Stars
Microscope: A Fractal Role-Playing Game of Epic Histories
The Long Way to the Moon: The Apollo Missions
Alien Encounter: A Scientific Novel (2nd Edition) (Science and Fiction)
and I placed special emphasis on the word miz “– is most assuredly armed and we are all alerted to that fact. I’m more than confident that Ms. Thomas is in no danger.” I looked at Ms. Thomas who smiled happily and shrugged. “No worries on my part, Captain.” I turned back to Mr. Hill. “See, Mr. Hill? No worries. Now, if you please?” I held a hand out pointing down the passage. “I need a cuppa and these ladies need a little room to work without being second guessed at each turn. Shall we?” Mr.
incoming packet was nothing to beam home about. It held some limited price and cargo data, some news and sports scores. We had to have the sports scores. I suspected the betting pool in engineering berthing of tapping the feed directly but so long as the wagering was fair, there wasn’t any reason for me to interfere. That particular packet carried a high priority flag and that wasn’t usual. Our current third, a competent and slightly crazy individual named Julianna Kazyanenko, scampered up the
that entertaining, sar, if you catch my drift.” From the direction of the mess deck I could hear Ms. Thomas proclaiming loudly although the echoes in the ship made her actual words indistinct. “Yes, Mr. Ricks, I believe I do.” I sighed. “Carry on, Mr. Ricks.” “Sar? About this morale officer business?” “Yes, Mr. Ricks?” “Are you serious?” I waited. “Sar?” “Quite, Mr. Ricks. You are the lowest rating on the ship. Traditionally morale officer falls to the lowest ranking officer, but we’re a
Dark strewn ahead of us. I stepped into the cabin and closed the door behind me so I’d have something to lean on as I drank it in. For what must have been five or six full ticks I was washed with thoughts and fears, emotions and endorphins. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to describe it, that ineffable feeling that I, myself–not in the ship, or part of the ship, but me–I flew outward, racing into the Deep Dark. No, I don’t think I could ever really describe it, but I was sure I’d never–as long as
“Aye, aye, sar.” He was already opening it before the words were out of his mouth. “If you’d check the jump estimate, you’ll see a date that’s substantially different than ours, Mr. Pall.” He was deep in the calculation and that’s where I wanted him. “Aye, Skipper. I see that. What I don’t see is why you think this is our ship.” “What do you mean, Mr. Pall?” “These setups are all wrong.” “Why are they wrong, Mr. Pall?” He held that sheet open while he slipped the formal astrogation displays
