The Far Side of the Stars by David Drake

The Klimovna tugged her husband against the bulkhead between the gunnery and signals consoles. They whispered to one another in rapid, husky voices—in some language other than Universal as best Daniel could tell, though he was deliberately trying not to overhear.

He glanced out the open service hatch, wide enough to pass a navigation console. Adele was sitting beside Woetjans as the line of spacers wound its way past the paymaster to fall into new ranks on the other side. When the whole crew had been paid, Mon as their acting captain would dismiss them from the RCN in accordance with his orders from the Navy Office.

“Count Klimov?” Queriman said with a touch of asperity. “I believe if you’re ready, we can proceed now with the sale of the vessel. That’s correct, isn’t it, Blaisdell?”

“Yessir, it surely is,” the dockyard representative said. “Nothing for me to do but sign the forms. The sale’s as-is, no warranties whatever.”

“I will be with you shortly, gentlemen,” the Count said sharply. As if he was talking to a servant, Daniel thought, and then suppressed a smile. No, if Queriman was a servant, the Count would’ve backhanded him instead of speaking.

“Lieutenant Leary,” Klimov continued, “join my wife and me in private, if you will. The room next door—”

The captain’s watch cabin.

“—will do.”

The Klimovs stepped off the bridge, obviously expecting Daniel to follow them; which of course he did. Matters were developing even better than he’d hoped they would.

The watch cabin was little more than a fold-down bunk which doubled as a desk when reversed, and a chair which could be cantilevered from the opposite side. The flat-plate communicator above the stowed bunk could access the navigational system, but the exiguous display meant the captain would use it only for cursory checks on the officer with the conn. Some captains would’ve curtained off the head beside the hatch—the ship’s plumbing ran through the interior bulkheads—but the same bare functionality as the crew facilities sufficed for Daniel.

A prison cell on a civilized planet would generally have more room and amenities, but the symbolism thrilled Daniel every time he entered it. It was the captain’s watch cabin, after all.

“Lieutenant Leary?” Klimov said before Daniel had closed the hatch behind them; he didn’t latch it, but the appearance of privacy was important to Daniel if not the civilians. “The war with the Alliance is over, so many naval officers will be released with only a pittance, is that not true?”

“Yes, though of course as citizens we can only be thankful that our Republic is at peace,” Daniel said sententiously. He wouldn’t lie to these foreigners, but everyone would benefit if they were allowed to continue in the misapprehensions with which they’d started.

“We will pay you forty florins a week in Cinnabar money to captain the Princess Cecile for us to the North!” Valentina said with a theatrical gesture. It would’ve looked better in larger quarters; here her rings clacked the bulkhead, chipping paint. Undeterred she continued, “Lieutenant Wilsing says a lieutenant like you on half pay would get only fifteen florins, that is correct?”

“Yes it is,” Daniel agreed, wondering why a functionary from the Navy Office would be at such pains to praise him to the Klimovs and at the same time convince the Klimovs that he would be available to captain the Sissie as a civilian. The answer of course was that a functionary from the Navy Office wouldn’t; therefore Wilsing’s real duties lay somewhere else. “Of course money isn’t the only matter that would concern me should I consider your offer.”

“More money, then!” Klimovna said, glaring at her husband. “Georgi, I told you were a fool! Captain Dannie, fifty florins a week!”

She doesn’t listen very well, Daniel thought with a faint smile. Of course that wasn’t a problem limited to women or to civilians, either one.

Aloud he continued, “Count and Countess, let me ask you a question: were you satisfied with the ship and her crew on your voyage from the Strymon system?”

“Yes, of course,” Klimov said, exchanging puzzled expressions with his wife. “That is why we wish to buy her, don’t you see?”

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