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FOUR

Klay was deep inside his ’quations when he heard a step in the hall leading to the norbears’ quarters. He looked up as Tranh appeared, carrying two mugs, and walking careful on his almost-healed leg.

“Studying in the hall to get some peace, my friend?”

Klay grinned, and stretched, letting some of the tension in his shoulders go. Truth was, he’d been feeling an overflow through the door he was leaning against, had seen vague visions of himself and Squith, sometimes of Dulsey and Tranh—those were easy enough to mostly ignore, and the mentions of Falmer and Rusko were so distant, he barely noticed them at all. What had been hard were the images of Susrim, which carried a weight of—well, he didn’t really know. Caution? Dislike? Both? Neither? Then, there was someone else in there, not Susrim, but—adjacent? It might, Klay had thought, taking break from his work to consider it, have been Choody, or one of his crew, and an occasional light touch along the fight at Port Chavvy dockside.

Right now, as he stretched, he was getting norbears, like they were talking about each other like crew does, figuring who would be best at what. There was some overlay there of the planet of norbears and tobors, a kind of wistful feeling, like family being missed.

Klay brought his arms down. He wasn’t going to get into what he’d been hearing with Tranh, that wasn’t his to share, so he let the grin fade with the stretch and looked down at his tablet, rueful.

“Funny thing—sometimes I had to study this way on my old ship, catch a spot with a mug of ’mite, and my tablet, and stay out of the way. It’s not like that, here. I was specifically requested to guard the door while they’re making their decision. They know Pilot Dulsey wants some of their company for a while, and they’re not in general against it, but there’s factors, and they need some time to sort it all out.”

“Can’t blame ’em for that,” Tranh said surprisingly. “Not like we haven’t been doing the same thing ourselves.”

He bent a little, offering a mug. “’Mite?”

“Thanks.”

Klay took the mug, and watched Tranh slide down the opposite wall, holding his own mug in two hands.

“Squith and Falmer are doing kitchen inventory,” he said, like he was continuing a conversation they’d been having. “That’s ’ponics and the kitchen lab, too, so Falmer’s putting out box lunches on the buffet. You pick one up when the bosses in there give you a break.”

Humor, Klay thought. He hadn’t known Tranh had a sense of humor. He took a sip of ’mite. Well, maybe Rusko was helping him grow one.

“So, first thing: Far’s I can know, every bit of black and grey, Old Tech, jumblestuff, and just plain trash is outta every single smuggle hidey on this ship. We got it in a lock-pod at the edge of our docking here, and sent Dulsey the combination. She’ll come by and do an eval, prolly alt-shift, so she sent, and send an offer. Prelim offer is that she’ll take all we got, subtracting disposal costs from trade-worth, to find her number.”

He gave a wry smile. “So now all we gotta do is hope we don’t wind up owing her disposal fees.”

“Not likely, is it?”

Tranh shook his head. “Truth? It’s not. Choody ran reals, kajets and Old Tech. Da didn’t have much of an eye, but Ma surely did. There’s not much outright trash, to my eye, being studied on our cargoes like I was, though it’s nothing I want Dulcimer to be shipping.”

He sighed.

“Transfer already come through for the Port Chavvy vids. Crystal pays good, and they pay fast, grey as they are. Your ears and mine, Choody was so far into black, Crystal looks near white.” He shook his head. “If they get something special out of the Port Chavvy vids I don’t know what it might be unless they’re hunting Liadens, but see, I’ll sell them info from here to infinity to get the ship clean. I don’t think info is grey if it isn’t stole, do you?”

Klay belatedly realized that this had been an actual question and he readily agreed that information that came to hand, no, that wasn’t grey.

“Now, since you’re senior crew, you gotta know that Crystal’s paying us a stipend for information from wherever we go. Putting you on that so Rusko and I can handle the other trade stuff. I’ll give you a list of what they’re watching for.”

“Can’t they just subscribe to the trade news?” Klay tried to keep his face bland. It wasn’t like he had anything against knowing stuff, but sometimes keeping your nose out of people’s business and looking away felt like the best policy.

“We can send mood reports and gossip and the trade news can’t, if you know what I mean. Not that you’ll be making up rumors or sharing secrets. But we got ears, and we’ll all be on ports now, so it’s an income-stream and I want you in charge. You got a compelling no, shout it out now.”

“No,” Klay said, and then laughed slightly. “What I mean to say, Captain, is yes, I’ll take care of the info-trade.”

“Good,” Tranh said, and had a drink—’toot, according to Klay’s nose—and put the mug on the deck by his knee.

“Talked to Falmer,” he said. “Bottom line, she wants to get studied in kitchen-keeping. Feels like there’s more to it than the same ten-days-and-repeat we been doing since before any of us were born. Previous captain and mate didn’t care what they ate, focused as they was on other things. Susrim got studied because he wasn’t me, and older’n Falmer. He might’ve figured it made him important, but he didn’t choose it, if you take me. Falmer wants the kitchen, and she wants to do better for us.”

Tranh paused, apparently waiting to hear what Klay thought about that.

“Let her go with it, then,” Klay said cautiously.

Tranh nodded. “My thought, zackly. I figured you’d want to know how it went, there, since you advised her to tell me everything out straight.” He sipped. “Good advice. Captain can’t fix what he don’t know’s broke.”

“My thought, too,” Klay said, and had a swallow of ’mite.

“So, here’s the rest of my thoughts, and you let me know yours, if you will. Falmer’ll go down a level, ship-wise, while she’s doing her study-work. So that’s Stinks and general cleaning on her, and her studies. Stinks comes off you, cleaning comes off Squith. The two of you will be our norbear handlers, so long’s we got norbears, but losing general cleaning leaves Squith free to do kitchen back-up…”

Klay stiffened, and Tranh paused.

“Seen a problem? Go ahead and say it out.”

“If Susrim thinks he’s being slighted—like Falmer’s getting studied up so she can step into his spot, he’s gonna bear down hard on Squithy.”

“And that ship won’t fly while you’re at the board, is that it? You’ll be pleased to hear Rusko feels the same.”

“’Course,” Klay heard himself continue, “that won’t be anything like what’ll come outta Susrim when Squith starts studying for pilot.”

Silence.

If it could have been possible, Klay would have stared at himself just like Tranh was staring at him, but he saw it in a flash, and it was obvious, it was right.

“Pilot,” Tranh said, real neutral.

“She’s got the math, or most of it. Mind, it’s not in any kind of order, but she sees it—you know what I’m talking about.”

“I do. And you know this how, zackly?”

Klay felt his face heat, but he kept his eyes steady on Tranh’s.

“She asked to see the Jump numbers, so I showed her. Figured it couldn’t do any harm, and anyhow she’d be bored real quick. Only she wasn’t. Asked how they were different from the coming-into-station numbers, so I showed her them, too. She had some questions—they were good questions, pilot-think questions, Tranh. I think she can do it, and I’m not talking third class. I think she can take it all the way to Jump, if she gets to study on it.”

Tranh sat sipping from his mug, eyes on a point in the floor between them.

“I was supposed to be talking to Squith after lunch. Now that we’re on serve-ourselves, I’ll grab her off inventory after I leave you. I’ll see where her understanding is, about piloting. If she’s eager, Rusko’ll give her an aptitude screen. If she’s good for it and apt, then we let her go with it, same like Falmer. Piloting self-studies, we got; couple dummy boards, if it comes to that. If she can’t learn it from the tapes, though…”

“I’ll teach her,” Klay heard himself say, unsurprised.

Tranh nodded. “You got it.”

“Good.” Klay finished his ’mite and put the mug aside.

“So, Susrim,” he began, but Tranh held up a hand.

“We let Susrim go one step at a time. First, we see how he takes the news that Falmer’s studying with an eye to becoming a nutritionist-chef.” Tranh paused and gave Klay a narrow look. “That’s what she told me. Been reading up, she said. So, we get Susrim ’round that corner, and give him what lessons he might need to have, including in manners, and plain shipside rules. Rusko and me’ll take point on that.”

He finished off what was in his mug and put it on the floor.

“I’m gonna be needed up front in a few, so let me just say the rest of this real quick, and we’ll talk again, soon.”

He held up his forefinger.

“One. I’m still in favor of whatever you and Squith are working out between you. It’s looking good on both sides, and that’s as far as I’ll go, captain and cousin.”

Second finger.

“I want you working with Rusko on putting together a list of haven-spots for us. The old ones were all Choody’s friends—hard getting in and a lot harder getting out. We’re done with that.

“Other thing, with the Dust coming in, we need to work out which ports are gonna be hard for the Liadens and the big ships to get into. We’ll be looking to make a couple Loops with those ports as anchors. We won’t be the first to be figuring out our advantage, but maybe not the last. You give me a whole catalog—twenty, even thirty—so I can run the trade analysis.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Might be we can hook up with some short Loopers and do an intersection Loop. Nothing’s off the table, is what I’m saying. I want us thinking wide.”

“Got it,” Klay said. “Wide and deep.”

“Right. Now—”

“Tranh?”

Rusko’s voice came out of Tranh’s beltcom, calm and soothing. That was Rusko, thought Klay—especially when he talked to Tranh.

“Go ahead,” Tranh said.

“Dulsey’s arranged for a transport crew to be on our dock early tomorrow. She’ll be providing transfer boxing, mini-pods and bins, so she can shift some of that freight direct, instead of carting it through the port. Also, she wants to pay upfront for the kajets she’s already seen, as a separate transaction. I think you might want to talk to her on this, so we’re all clear.”

“On my way.”

Tranh sighed, and Klay rose to help his captain rise, having seen the unsteadiness as the other man tried to get his feet under him.

“Thanks.” Tranh smiled, and tapped lightly on the door of the norbears’ compartment.

“You get news from this department, you tell me on the instant. I want to get this settled.”

“Right,” Klay said. “I’ll take the mugs back when I go.”

“Thanks,” Tranh said again, and left him.


Klay was doing the math for a triple Jump to Skander from Port Chavvy. He didn’t hear footsteps so much as he noticed a part of his attention caught by a sense of welcome presence.

He glanced up from the screen, and Squithy smiled at him, holding two meal boxes.

“You forgot to pick up your lunch,” she said, holding one out to him.

He took it with a smile. “Looks like I’m not the only one. Let me save this…”

He put the box on the deck, and saved his place before putting the tablet down.

“I was having that meeting with Tranh,” Squithy said, and he was caught by how bright her eyes were, and how her cheeks glowed. “He said I could eat while we met, but I was afraid I’d miss something, so I decided to wait.” She looked doubtful. “I told Falmer I’d be back with her on the inventory, but then I saw your box sitting there, so—”

“I ’preciate you bringing it to me. Since you gotta eat anyway, you mind eating here?”

“Here? With you?”

She smiled like he’d offered her a treat, and settled down on the decking beside him.

“There,” she said, smile widening. “That’s good.”

“Glad you could join me,” he said solemnly, opening his box. Coofu on fresh bake bread, a fresh fruit from the port market, and a sealed pack of soy milk. A reasonable lunch, no flash, no attitude on display in the form of crumpled napkins or broken bread.

“They’re still dreaming, is what I’m getting,” Squithy said softly, picking up her handwich.

“What I’m getting, too. Trying not to think at ’em direct, in case I interrupt something.” Klay opened the soy milk and took a sip.

“Everything work out okay with Tranh?”

Squithy sat up straight, her handwich forgotten in her hand.

“Klay, Tranh says he’s gonna ask Uncle Rusko to give me a screening to see if I’m apt—if I have the aptitude to be a pilot! A pilot! He says you told him I was innerested in the ’quations and that I asked good questions, and—I’d only have the test if I wanted it, and I said yes I wanted it, so that’ll be happening, when Rusko has a break in his schedule. Might not be until we’re underway again, said Tranh, but later I saw Uncle Rusko and he said if we both get up early the next time we’re on the same shift, it can get done then, and I checked the schedule to be sure, and that’s two days from now!”

“That’s great!” Klay said. “Good opportunity for you, Squith. I’m glad you decided to take the test.”

“Well, I have to, don’t I? So I’ll know?”

Klay bit his lip, suddenly struck by an aspect he hadn’t considered before.

“Say, Squith, if the screening don’t suggest you go on to study, you know that’s just—”

“It’s a fact,” Squithy said, raising her handwich again. “Not everybody’s a pilot. I know that.” She took a bite and chewed meditatively. “Still, I should know, right?”

“Right,” he said, relieved.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Klay wondered if he should ask, but before he could, Squithy spoke.

“The important thing is, I got a ship-line, like you and Dulsey thought I should have. Turns out Stinks carries a draw, only it didn’t ever transfer on account of I wasn’t allowed to hold a chip card. We figured out the back-shifts owing, and Tranh’s gonna give me another chip, all loaded, so I can give yours back, Klay, if—”

“You keep that,” he interrupted. “I got plenty.”

Squithy nodded, slowly. “All right, then. Thank you, Klay.”

“So’s Tranh got a going-forward?” Klay asked, blatantly changing the subject.

“He does, and wait’ll you hear! Going forward—that’s starting with today’s breakfast shift—Tranh says I’m gonna draw at Falmer’s level, on account I’m being jumped up to fill her spot while she’s studying for her chef certs. That means I’ll be Susrim’s back-up, which Tranh says previous orders’re in force. If Susrim gets ahead of himself, or speaks contrary to ship standards, I’m to tell Tranh, who’ll be working with Susrim, he says, to bring him level to his level.” She paused to have a sip of soy milk.

“I’m s’posed to read over the ship standards, as a refresh.”

“That’s not a bad idea for me, too,” Klay said. “A lot’s happened since the last time I read ’em.”

Squithy smiled. “You’re right, a lot has happened.”

“We never finished our talk,” Klay began before his voice and his thoughts were overwhelmed by a kind of mind-heard music so resonant with joy that he felt tears start to his eyes even as he came to his feet. Squithy was pressed against his side, their fingers entwined.

“They’ve decided,” Squithy whispered, which it appeared they had, though what they were witnessing went far beyond simple agreement, or mere decision. This was a declaration of intent, a pledge of commitment, and a celebration of brave friends about to embark on the next stage of the adventure they had found together.

Klay’s head was thrumming, not painfully, but with a reflected joy, as he beheld them, one by one, then all together. He was suffused with strength, of purpose, of connection.

The air thrummed with pride, even as rapid footsteps sounded down the corridor, and here was Falmer and Rusko, their faces holding wonder, and Tranh behind them, looking puzzled.

“We having a celebration?” he asked, looking first to Squithy, then Klay.

“Didn’t you hear it?” Falmer gasped. “I—it was this big…noise in my head! I even saw something!”

Tranh shrugged. “I was deep into catalogs and star maps. Heard a disturbance; thought Susrim might be back. Then Rusko came and grabbed me. Said we were wanted here.”

“Yes,” said Squithy. “It’s a celebration, Tranh! They’re all of them brave scouts!”

“That’s it,” Klay said, seeing or only sensing the man Dulsey had called “Jethri’s Scout,” in the warp of the norbears’ thoughts. He looked to Tranh. “They made their decision, and they’re celebrating it and themselves.”

“They’re all going with Dulsey?” Tranh’s voice was hopeful.

“I don’t think—”

Squithy stepped forward and touched the plate. The door opened, and there before them were Mitsy and Ditsy, projecting joy at having found harmony, and also a picture of themselves with Dulcimer’s crew, with Dulsey in a pivotal point beyond them, across the lanes of companionship.

“Mitsy and Ditsy are staying with us,” Squithy said. “The rest will travel with Dulsey. All will have adventures and be true, bold scouts, valuing their connections with each other, until they are together again.”

It sounded like she was repeating what the norbears had given her to say, only norbears didn’t think in words. Still, Klay thought, it summed the thing up neat enough.

“I see,” Tranh said, and stepped forward to look down at the two proud creatures in the door.

“Staying, are you?” he said seriously. “If you stay, you’re crew, and I’ll expect you to act like crew, and work like crew. Can you do that?”

Their assent was so firm that the inside of Klay’s head rang, and it apparently got through to Tranh.

“I heard a yes,” he said, looked to Klay.

“That’s right, Captain,” Klay confirmed.

“All right, then,” said Rusko. “Glad that’s settled.”

“Me, too,” Tranh said, and turned away, accepting Rusko’s arm. “I’ll call Dulsey and give her the happy news.”


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Framed