That let them and Boreale both form at least some good guesses both about Champlain’s capabilities and the content of its holds. And at his jump seat post on the bridge, JR ran his own calculations on that past-behavior record, keeping their realtime position and Boreal’s as a display on the corner of the screen, and calling on a large library of such records.
Finity’s End, in its military capacity, stored hundreds of such profiles of other ships of shady character, files that ordinary traders couldn’t access and which (he knew the Old Man’s sense of honor) they would never use in competing against other ships in trade. The data included observations of acceleration, estimates of engine output, maneuvering capacity, loading and trade information not alone from Mariner, but black-boxed information that came in from every port in the shared system—and they had that on Champlain.
He was very glad to have confirmation of what common sense told him Champlain had done—which was exactly what they had done. She’d offloaded, hadn’t taken in much, had most of her hauling mass invested in fueclass="underline" she’d taken on enough to replace what she’d spent getting to Mariner, but no one inspected the total load. She was possibly even able to go past Voyager without refueling.
Finity had to fuel at Voyager. If they delayed to offload cargo and take on more fuel, they’d lose their tag on Champlain even if Champlain did put into that port. But Finity’s unladed mass relative to their over-sized engines meant they’d still handle like an empty can compared to Champlain, unless Champlain’s hold structure camouflaged more engine strength than the estimate persistently turning up in the figures he was running.
Boreale was likewise high in engine capacity, and she was also far more maneuverable than Champlain, if the figures they had on their ally of convenience were right. They’d been hearing about these new Union warrior-merchanters. Now they had their chance to observe one in action, and Boreale couldn’t help but be aware of their interest and who they reported to…
The com light blinked on his screen. Somebody wanted him. He reached idly and thumbed a go-ahead for his earpiece.
Fletcher. A restrainedly upset Fletcher, who wanted to talk.
“I’m on duty,” he said to Fletcher. “I’m on the bridge.”
“That’s all right,” Fletcher said. “I’ll wait as long as I have to.”
The quiet anger in the tone, considering Fletcher’s nature, said to him that it might be a good idea to see about it now.
“I’ll come down,” he told Fletcher. “Where are you?”
“My quarters.”
“I’ll be there in a moment.” He signaled temporarily off duty, and stored and disconnected on his way out of the seat
Fletcher sat on the bed, in the center of the debris. And waited.
Jeremy had left to report to Jeff, in the galley, for both of them.
Fletcher sat, imagining the time it took to leave the bridge, walk to the lift and take it down to A deck…
To walk the corridor.
He waited. And waited, telling himself sometimes the lift took a moment. People might stop JR on the way…
The light by the door flashed, signaling presence outside.
Fletcher got up quietly and opened the door.
JR’s face said volumes, in the fast, startled pass of the eyes about the room, the evident dismay.
JR hadn’t expected what he saw. And on that sole evidence Fletcher held on to his temper, controlling the anger that had him wound tight.
“Jeremy went on to duty,” he said to JR in exaggerated, careful calm. “This is what we came back to.”
“This…” JR said, and seemed to lose the word.
“This is a joke, right?”
“Not a funny one. Clearly.”
He hadn’t been able to predict what he himself would do. Or say. Or want. He was angry. He wasn’t, he decided now, angry at JR. And that was not at all what he’d have predicted.
“I’d discouraged this,” JR said. “It’s supposed to be a joke, yes. Your first liberty. But it shouldn’t have happened. Was anything damaged?”
“Something was stolen.”
JR had been looking at the damage. His eyes tracked instantly back again, clearly not comfortable with that charged word. He’d deny it, Fletcher thought. He’d quibble. Protect his own. Of course.
“What was?” JR asked
He measured with his hands. “A hisa artifact. A spirit stick. Wood. Carved, tied up with cords and feathers.”
“I’ve seen them. In museums. They’re sacred objects.”
“I had title to it.”
“I take your word on it. You had it in your cabin. Where?”
“In the drawer.” He indicated the drawer in question with a backward kick of his foot “At the back of the drawer. Under clothes. I’ve been over every inch of the room. Including under the bunk frames as they’d tilt underway. It’s not here. I don’t give a damn about them tearing up the room. I don’t like it, but that’s not the issue. The stick is. The stick is mine, it was a gift, and it’s not something you play games with.”
“I’m well aware.” JR looked around him and frowned, thinking, Fletcher surmised, where it might be, or very well knowing the chief suspects on his own list
“I don’t even know it’s on this ship,” Fletcher said “I don’t know why they thought it was funny to take it. I don’t even want to imagine. I can point out that the market value is considerable, for someone who might be interested in that sort of thing. And that we’ve been in port.”
He’d hit home with that one. JR frowned darker still.
“No one on this ship would do that,” JR said.
“You tell me what they would and won’t do. Let me tell you. Somebody sitting at your table, in the bar the other evening, looked me straight in the eye knowing damned well what he’d done. Or she’d done. They kept a real straight face about it. Probably they had a good laugh later. I’m serving notice. I can’t work with people like that. I want off this ship. I gave you my best shot and my honest effort. And this is what I get back from my cousins. Thanks. If you want to do me a personal favor, sell me back to Pell and let me get back to my life. If you want to do me a bigger favor, get me passage back from Voyager. But don’t ask me to turn a hand to help anybody on this ship. I want my own cabin, the same as everyone else. I don’t want to be with Jeremy. I don’t want to be with anybody. I want my privacy, I want my stuff left alone, I don’t want any more of your jokes, and I don’t want any more crap about belonging here. I don’t. I think that point’s been made.”
JR didn’t come back with an argument. JR just stood there a moment as if he didn’t know what to say. Then:
“Have you discussed this with Jeremy?”
“No, I haven’t discussed it with Jeremy. I have nothing against Jeremy. I just want the lot of you off my back!”
“I can understand your feelings. If you want separate quarters, I can understand that, too. But Jeremy’s going to be affected. He’s taken to you in a very strong way. I’d ask you give that fact whatever thought you think you ought to give. I’ll talk to the captains; I’ll explain as much as I can find out. I’ll find the stick, among other things. And if you want someone to clean this mess up, I’ll assign crew to do that. If you’d rather I not…”