"Hi, Dad. Fancy meeting you here," Pip replied.

Captain Thomas Carstairs did not seem like the kind of man you would cross lightly or more than once for that matter. He did not look mean or anything-just efficient. He reminded me a bit of Mr. Maxwell in that way. He smiled warmly enough at me, though, and held out a hand. "You're Ishmael?"

"Yes, sar. Ishmael w.a.n.g," I said, and shook his hand.

"You can call me Tom, Ishmael. You're not on my crew and we're not on my ship. Tom will do nicely." He continued to talk with me and ignore Pip. "Penny and Quent couldn't say enough good things about you. You really impressed them, and they're not easily impressed. Quent's a little soft in the head, but P's a hard-case from the old school."

"They explained a few things to me," I told him. "It was nice to see something outside of the corporate world."

"I think I'm ready for a beer. Anybody else?" he said. "I'll buy." He turned to the lift without waiting for a reply and pressed the b.u.t.ton. It must have been on our level because the doors opened immediately. I followed Tom into the lift.

When I turned, Tom had his finger on the open door control and looked at Pip who had not said a word beyond his first. Tom just waited, holding the door open. He didn't say anything like, "Are you coming?" or "At your earliest convenience." or "Stop being an idiot and get on the elevator."

Finally Pip sighed and stepped aboard. Tom released the door control and pressed the oh-two b.u.t.ton. When we got there, he led us to a place. It was not Shaunessey's but it might as well have been. The tablet beside the door read, Floyd's Place. A few quiet s.p.a.cers were having an afternoon beer and a gab. We joined the flotilla and took up station at an empty table.

Tom ordered a pitcher of a medium pilsner and three gla.s.ses. We settled down with our beers before we got into the heavy chat.

"So? How long did you think you could pull this off?" Tom asked Pip after we each had about half a gla.s.s.

Pip did not answer right away and Tom didn't press him. "I don't know," Pip said finally. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

Tom sipped his beer a little. "Penny said she talked to Alys and you've just extended for a year?"

"Yeah, things have been picking up here and Ishmael gets done next fall too."

"Zat right?" he said smiling at me. "What're you going to do then, Ishmael?" he asked it like he was interested.

"I don't know, Tom. I just applied to the academy but I don't know if I'll get in."

"You'll get in," he said matter-of-factly.

"Well, then there's the problem of paying for it. I'm hoping I can make enough trading over the next year to make a dent." I was talking to give Pip a chance to-I don't know what-get a handle on the situation, maybe.

"You making any creds?"

"We've been pretty lucky."

"Don't worry about the money, Ishmael. Once you're accepted, it will be taken care of one way or another."

"It's the *another' I'm worried about, Tom," I said with a grin.

He chuckled then. "I guess I can appreciate that." We sat and finished the first gla.s.s of beer and Tom emptied the pitcher on the second round. "So? You want to go?"

"I don't know. I'm still not sure."

He turned back to Pip. "So, if Ishmael goes, you'd go, too?"

Pip looked startled. "What?" he asked. He seemed almost like he was waking up from a nap, he had that same level of disorientation.

"I asked if you'd go to the academy if Ishmael goes," his father repeated gently.

Pip was still not tracking. "How can I go? I burned that bridge when I didn't show up two stanyers ago."

"Not exactly. When Annie told me you'd shipped on the Duchamp, I contacted Commandant Giggone. Told him you were taking a tour as a deck hand to get some experience under you before reporting. He put your file on hold."

"You've known all this time?"

"Of course," he said with a patient smile. "Annie checked with me before she let you sign the Articles."

"But-" he started to say.

"But what? Why did she check with me? Because she's family, ya great daft thing."

"No, why didn't you say no?"

"Well, because you're family," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You weren't ready for Port Newmar. I knew that."

"Then why did you push me?" he asked, his voice raw.

"I didn't. That was just how you saw it. I can't tell you how pleased I was when I got the deep-s.p.a.ce from Annie."

"But you've gone along with the whole thing all this time?"

"The scholarship idea was genius. But don't you think two years is a little long for a semester in s.p.a.ce?" he asked with a grin.

"All this time and you knew?" Pip sounded amazed. "And you didn't come after me?"

"I knew before you signed. Why would I come after you when it was too late?" he asked. "You'd tell me eventually. You'd have to-we're family."

"So what are you doing here now then?" Pip asked, half defensive and half defiant.

"Delivered a load of ship parts. What'd ya think? I dropped everything and flew out here for the h.e.l.l of it?"

"Aunt P didn't message you?"

"Well of course she messaged me!" he said with a chuckle. "She thought I was still under the impression you were at the academy."

"And you just happen to show up here? Our next port of call?" Pip pressed.

Tom shrugged. "Well, I was in the neighborhood."

"I'm not going back," Pip said suddenly.

"Going back where?" Tom asked.

"Back on the Epiphany."

"d.a.m.n straight you're not! You're under articles until next August."

Pip fell back into his chair. "You didn't come to take me to the academy?"

Tom screwed up his face in mock confusion. "How could I do that? You're under contract."

We sipped beer for a little, then he leaned forward and put his gla.s.s on the table.

"Okay, here's the deal, Phillip. Yes, Penny messaged and I grabbed the first cargo coming to Umber. I humped it over here as fast as the Epy could haul. We made good time from Sarga.s.s and got here about three weeks ago. We've been running some small cargoes in and out of here while we waited."

The waitress brought us another pitcher and Tom did the honors around the table once more.

"But I didn't come to drag you away. Penny's message said she thought you were ready and that I should let you know it was okay." He turned to me then and said, "She gives you a lot of the credit, Ishmael."

I just shrugged. "I don't know what I might have done to give her that impression, but thank you, sar-er-Tom."

"The point is-and you still haven't answered my question-your academy acceptance is on hold. I just need to let the commandant know as soon as possible so he can slot you into the new cla.s.s. So? If Ishmael goes, will you go with him?"

Pip looked at me then. His expression started out as a kind of whipped dog look, but it transformed into a funny, devilish grin. He turned back to his father and said, "Well, somebody needs to look out for him."

"I still have to get accepted," I pointed out.

"You'll get in." Tom said in a tone like you might say, "The sun's out."

"Everybody seems sure of that."

Tom shrugged. "If Alys Giggone puts up a candidate, I suspect Commandant Giggone will listen."

"You said that before-Commandant Giggone?"

"Her father. And Penny sent a letter, too, didn't she?"

"Yeah, it was quite a packet of recommendations."

"No kidding? Anything over eight is pretty much automatic. How many did you have?"

Pip said, "Ten. Three of them captains."

Tom held up his gla.s.s, "Congratulations on your pending acceptance. Start thinking of how you'll say yes."

"But how can you be so sure?"

"Because Alys Giggone is one of the best judges of potential candidates in the galaxy and her father knows that. That's the only reason she's not teaching there now. You have two sure tickets on your application. One is a recommendation from Alys Giggone. The other is that you've convinced two other captains that she's right and they've put their reputations on the line in support of you. Bob Giggone may have a soft spot in his heart for his little girl, but ten letters including three from captains just proves that Alys is right."

"But I didn't convince anybody! I didn't even know I was applying until the captain gave me the application packet to endorse. The recommendations were already in it."

"And in spite of the evidence of your own eyes, you continue to persist in the delusion that you won't make the cut?" he said with a grin. "Penny said you weren't born to a s.p.a.cer family so this probably seems crazy." He turned back to Pip. "So, was that a yes? Can I tell Bob that you'll be there for the next cla.s.s?"

Pip looked at his father and smiled. "Yes, please. That would be very helpful. Thanks, Dad."

Tom made a theatrical grasp at his chest, "Oh my G.o.ds and garters, he said thank you!" He had a proud smile on his face and he didn't mug it up for long. Instead he filled the gla.s.ses one last time and raised his in a toast, "To Port Newmar!" and we drank.

Chapter Thirty.

Dunsany Roads...o...b..tal

2353-July-18

After all the angst and anxiety of my first year in s.p.a.ce, the next ten months seemed idyllic-if you think of idyllic as working twelve hours a day for weeks on end locked in a big tin can surrounded by metric mega-b.u.t.t loads of nothing.

Nothing broke. The ship didn't crash. I managed not to make any more a fool of myself than was necessary to maintain my reputation as a member in good standing with the Order of Young, Stupid Males. That is not to say we didn't have a modic.u.m of excitement now and again.

It started while we were still on Umber, the orders came down for a change in destination. We were scheduled to close the loop by running from Ablemarle back to Dunsany Roads, but the company diverted us to Barsi. We took about half the ship loaded in fertilizer and frozen fish. Pip and I did very well with the masks and silk carp in the flea market, leaving Umber with twelve kilocreds in cash and a bundle of necklaces made of sh.e.l.ls, bones, and teeth from one of the large aquatic predators. I thought they were a bit tacky, but Diane liked them and I trusted her judgment.

By the time we got to Barsi in December, Pip and I had the new cargo systems smoothed out and we managed to bring the profit pool up by something like eight percent over projections by locking in some cargoes as early as we could and holding others until the last possible moment. That added a nice little bit to our shares, and it was a good thing too. I was accepted into the cla.s.s of 2358 just as Tom Carstairs had predicted. The acceptance notification from the academy waited for me when we pulled the beacon data from the Barsi Orbital. Appended to it was a financial aid application packet. This form was not filled out for me, but it was not difficult. I had some awkward moments trying to figure out how to explain my parents' financial status. Mom's was easy, of course. "Deceased" covered it. Finally, Mr. von Ickles suggested, "Whereabouts unknown," for my father. After that it was basically, just attaching my tax receipts for the previous year.

Francis surprised us in Barsi when he left the ship to take a teaching position.

He announced it to Brill, Diane, CC, and me on the mess deck just before we docked. "It's your fault," he told me with a grin.

"What did I do?"

"You were drunk on your b.u.t.t in Niol that night with Penny and Quent, remember?"

"I remember very well," I told him, "thereby putting the lie to your scurrilous commentary on my state of inebriation!"

CC turned to Diane at that point and asked, "What did he say?"

She leaned over and told him, "Ish just said he wasn't drunk."

CC nodded and thanked Diane for the translation.

"You told me that I should teach at the academy because the officers needed to know about astrophysics. I kinda liked that idea so I threw off an inquiry to the commandant. Did you know he's named Giggone, too?"

"Yeah, he's the captain's father. What'd he say?"

Brill and Diane both looked at me as if to say "How do you know that?" but did not interrupt for a change.