Owner Operator

A Care Givers Tale

by Straycat

(edited by Holly Logan)

 

Chapter 4

Dear Diary, April, 9^th, 2104

We maneuvered. I was pilot, as was my custom, and Tracey Nav'd, ran radio, and was a good hand all around. Ol' pro if I didn't know better, but she was too crisp, too perfect. Well, no complaints. We got coupled to the train first shot, with the help of remote camera's in all the right places. Cleared the paperwork with the harbor pilot, let the computer plot the course, we also did it by hand. Computers fail. Paper usually doesn't. Not to my surprise, Tracey finished before the computer, I came in third.

"Ever pilot a ship out of space dock?" I had to ... it was too easy, too perfect to pass up. I'm a history buff, and movies is good history. Especially if they have to do with space.

"No Sir." She looked at me. Ok, now I know I'm being read like a book. Her eyes went wide again.

I waved a hand toward the window. "Take her out, Mr. Saavik." Ah, yes ... The Christmas Tree Effect. That's when a person's face lights up so bright you can hear the electric meter spinning from around the corner of the house.

Ok, I'll spare ya the boring details of the next two hours. We were almost aligned as it was. That's done on purpose. When you have 48 containers attached to your anso you try to keep maneuvering down to an absolute minimum. Getting them straight again takes far more effort than it's worth some times. Now, add in the fact that the first and last container in the train is your life's blood ... also explosive if you cogida up completely.

"How many boosts does this make for you?"

"38 ... simulated," was the answer I got.

"How many live boosts have you done?"

"Uh … one ... Including this one." We still had a while before we could burn. Slow boating away from dock on cold gas and only the slightest hint of thrust to get it all going at the required departure rate. That gave me enough time for my tale.

"Ok, Boosting at 5 gee's is an experience you won't soon forget, or wish to relive if the Duke/Brannick box ain't working ..." I figured talking would ease the tension I could see in the set of her jaw. Locked. "Mainly, because by the time 24 hours have passed, so have you. It's been calculated that an Olympic athlete might survive, a 48 kilometer marathon runner has a slim chance, and that your average Joe has none. Your heart would either explode or fail after about 6 to 8 hours."

"After this much time in space I'd have to guess that I'm about an average Joe. But I can't afford to run the DB at 5g's for 24 hours, I don't have the batteries for that. I can get away with running it at 3g, and living through the other 2g for 24 hours." Oops ...

"You do now." She smiled briefly. Hey, at least my plan was working

"Yeah, I guess I do. Things always go through my mind during boost, and not just check lists, flight plans, checking scopes and the computer. No. History goes thru my mind. The Gasconader Folie accident for one. You hear of that one?" I looked over and saw a quick shake of her head. "Don't they teach you kids anything these days?"

"Back in February, 2036, the Gasconader Folie was launched on her maiden voyage. She was loaded with highly overpriced tourists. Some time during boost communication was lost. The ship never returned, and all hands on board were declared dead about 2 years later. What you probably won't hear about is the tidbit on the emergency beacon. Every ship I have ever heard of leaving atmosphere has had a beacon on it, that when all else fails, sends a transmission back to Terra letting the folks on the ground know how you bought it. Or at least they used to, anyway. There is also the sheer enormity of the insurance scandal that followed too."

"Seems that the folks that were to ride as passengers didn't like looking at the door tracks for the air tight seals …" She rolled her eyes. Pounders. I bet you a nickel that was the thought that went through her mind. "So they had them covered with wood. Real Wood. Carved and inlaid with designs like trim around a window or fireplace. The Air tight doors can cut a man unfortunate enough to be laying across the threshold in half. But that amount of thick hard wood would just jam it." I sighed.

"There was a problem. What, no one will ever know until human kind develops FTL, faster the light travel, and catches up with the G'n F to return her to earth. OK, there would be billions of peso's worth of historical salvage there. I could, with WAY too much time on my hands, plot her course and speed, figure out where she'd be If I could ever catch up with her … but that'll never happen in my life time, or yours."

"The Emergency beacon reported an explosive decompression, engine status which was still under one gravity burn, course, and flight plan. We know from her track that she never slowed down. Half way to Mars she was supposed to cut power, pull a 180 for the slowdown burn and do a flyby of Mars, then slingshot back to Earth, passing Luna both ways. That's it. No stops, no freight, no cargo. Just rich passengers on a holiday trip around the solar system." I could see Tracey was relaxed now, or at least as relaxed as she was gonna get

"A couple years later she was the third man made object to leave the solar system. Yeah, things like that occupy a small piece of my mind while boosting. Now I guess you can see why."

She looked over at me with a smile. "Let me guess. You got that story on your first boost, right?" I let my grin answer her question

Tracey acquitted herself well during her first live boost. Took the 2g-actual ride in stride, and made a point of sitting up a bit against the force every so often. Ok ... I ran it that way because you need to feel the thrust to remind you of what happens if something fails. Also if something does, you're not hit with 5 gees right in the face. You only gotta deal with 3 more, and that gives you time to do something.

 

* * *

Dear Diary, April, 15^th, 2104

Now I'm not exactly a monk, and having a woman like Tracey on board reminded me of that about every other thought, but I'm not a playboy either. I never took those drugs that make a mano Stud-muffin of the week. I still work, and I take my time. Suits me just fine. I decided I need to get to know Tracey before I even think of doing anything to attract attention, if you know what I mean. So we talked.

We've been en-route for at least a week, exchanged a few mails with Terra, mostly from Tracey's little brother Reggie. Reg is his fathers' son; I can tell from the way Tracey describes him ... "Just Like Dad."

Ok ... I'm not supposed to admit this, but I get lonely out here. I ain't got no family no more. Last of them died off a while ago. Don't remember when. Don't really care to either. What little I can actually remember of my family is not really worth remembering. I need some one to talk to once in a while. Don't tell any one that I said this ... but the last couple hookers I was with, we spent more time just talking, and drinking coffee ... My treat, of course. Covered their time, and afterwards web... well. Business is business, and I'll leave it at that.

We were sitting up on the bridge drinking coffee and I was poking my nose in to about every part of her life I could get her to talk about. That's when things started to get odd. I noticed things about her family, things long buried in the back of my mind. Things I thought long forgotten. That's when I asked … I had to. I needed to know.

"Tracey, what is your mother's maiden name?" She blinked, then looked at me.

"Penny, Penny Wise. Why do you ask?"

I started laughing, and didn't stop for what seemed like an hour. I was gasping for breath and having to suck on an O2 tap before I could get myself under control enough for further conversation.

"Are you OK?" I waved her back into her seat. And tried to decide if I should tell her ...Why the hell not?

"Here's how it fits together in my head. I had a fling with a girl named Penny Wise 22 years ago, right before she got married, it turns out. From what you've told me, if she's the same gal, she got pregnant Very quickly, like on her wedding night. Delivered a couple weeks early, a nice standard baby boy, that'd be you. No chemicals at all till you joined CGC. Her husband, your father, has been on the Mano stud-muffin drugs most of his life. There is a chance, about a 1 percent of 1 percent, that some of his sperm were unaffected ... It could happen. I mean, you are 21, and when you showed me pictures of your family ... and lemme tell you, you look nothing like your father, even before CareGivers."

"My mother told me I looked more like my grandmother's side of the family."

Now I happen to have a photo album floating 'round the bridge (not literally, that's bad house keeping, and we spacers never let stuff float. Could cause accidents). It's been all but unused for a while. I keep it because ... well, I'm not sure. Anyway we compared her family pictures with mine. Set a picture of her right before she went in to CGC and a pic of me and my dad when I was 20ish next to each other. That is when I started my laughing fit again.

"Those perras! They knew!" I all but stopped laughing at her words

"What? What did they know?" I noticed a tear running down her cheek.

"They knew we were related ... that is why they instructed me not to sleep with you under any circumstances."

"What!?" a bit angrier than I actually felt

"They wouldn't give me a reason, beyond it was something undesirable in your genetics that wouldn't be compatible with mine ... Those perras!"

Now I am truly in uncharted territory. I've never had a female in my employ start crying around me before...

Being halfway to Mars, it's kind of hard to get into a fight with the people who did what's right by you and your unknown family in a rather underhanded and sneaky way ... but if Tracey could have done it, she would have, bawling the entire time, I think. Personally, I'd a been happy dropping a rock on their anso ... well, maybe not on, but close by. Just close enough to be a warning. There are not enough women in the world, no sense in killing any. Ok, maybe just a very strongly worded letter. Yeah. That'd do it.

 

* * *

 

If someone ever figures out how we fell asleep, her in my lap and her head on my shoulder while I'm still strapped in to the pilots seat ... please, let me know, okay?

 

* * *

Dear Diary, April, 18^th, 2104

Tracey was in the shower, and we were way on the far side of Luna. I opened the Com-log for a return number to Tracey's folk's place. Speed of light delay was growing daily, up to about 2 minutes now. I canned a message to Tracey's mother, and transmitted it to earth. Basically I was just introducing myself to the mother of my First Officer. I tried not to leave anything overtly implied in the message, just in case her husband got a hold of it. Also to not leave out the fact I knew about Tracey, to her mother. Just a short 30 second message. She must have been home, because I got a reply about 5 minutes later.

"Madre de Maria del dios! Casey!" Her smile lit up my screen. She was every bit as beautiful as I remembered, and even more so with time. "I have not heard from you in 22 years! You've aged. I can see the worry in your face, and the same old smile in your eyes."

She looked over her shoulder, then back at the screen. "Jonathan is home right now, but in another room." She took a deep breath "He doesn't know, but I can tell from your message that you do. Please, let me explain this to you. Jonathan is not to know, if he did ... I am not sure what he would do. I hope you understand."

Behind her I saw Reggie was walking in, "Papá wants to know who it is, Madre. Is it Sis?" he asked as he approached the terminal.

"No, dear. It is the Capitán of your sisters' ship. Capitán Casey Maxwell. Do you wish to say hello to the Capitán?"

He smiled and stepped a bit closer, gave a rough salute and spoke his greeting. "El Capitán Maxwell, Space Cadet Reggie Chadwick-Robins reporting for duty, Sir!"

He dropped the salute, his mother smiled and gave him a hug, then ran him out of the room.

She sighed. "Well, I had better send this before it gets too long to transmit." The screen blanked and the words End Transmission appeared. I took a minute to compose myself. Looked back over my shoulder across the galley toward Tracey's stateroom. The door was still closed.

I looked back at the terminal, and tried to word my message. "Greetings from the Backasswards, Mrs. Chadwick-Robins. You have a fine son there, and a very fine daughter here. She's better at these systems than even I am, and I've had this ship 10 years. She'll make you proud, Ma'am. I'll pass her your message, and look forward to the day when your son is ready to follow her into space. I'll try to keep a berth open for him." I smiled and cut the recording for transmission.

As I sent it, I heard a door open and bare feet coming closer. "I thought I heard you talking, getting mail traffic?" I looked back over my shoulder. Tracey was drying her hair with a towel, and had another towel wrapped around her. I tried not to notice too much and turned back to the terminal.

"I sent your mother a short greeting from the Captain. She replied. She remembers me ... That's almost a surprise. She said your Dad doesn't know, and she don't want him to know. Also, Reggie came in and said hi. Cute kid."

I grabbed my coffee cup and took a sip. Damn, coffee tastes good when the thing is actually clean. "You can play back the message log if you like."

I got up, turned my back on her to leave the room. "Did you take your vitamins this morning?" she asked before I got to the door. I looked back across the curved floor of the galley to Tracey still rubbing the water out of her hair.

"Never took the things before, never needed them ... but yes, I took them."

She smiled and turned her back to get herself a cup of coffee. I turned again for the door. I stopped when the question started to nag at me. Eh, probabley not important right now.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, May, 4^th, 2104

I've been spending a lot of time talking with Tracey. You'd think that as an ol' space hermit I'd get tired of talking after a few days, maybe even a few weeks. Well, it ain't working out that way. Seems like not a day goes by that we don't find something new to talk about. I find her insights to just about everything in the news to be, well, insightful. We've talked about her childhood extensively. I know just about everything there is to know about her life.

Her grades in school. Which girls she liked when she was still male, which was way before she joined the Care Givers Company and took the DeCorvin Process, which genetically altered her to female.

"Have you ever noticed that your musical tastes are as diverse as my own?" I asked one day. She nodded, whether with the music, or to my question, I'm not sure. But we did hardly ever agree on what kind of music to listen to at any given moment."

"That is because musical preference is mainly subjective to ones emotional state," she stated. "As philosophers have been pointing out for hundreds of years, males and females live on different emotional planes. Ones moods are hardily if ever in sync with the others."

"Which just goes to prove that I spend more time with headphones on than you do," she smiled.

"It is called courtesy. You might want to look it up one day, to figure out exactly what it means." She smiled as she hummed a catchy tune.

"I mean, I'd be in a merry metal mood, and you'd be playing the entire collection of Mozart, cranked up loud. The next day I'd be all for Blues, and you'd have the Techno thunder-beat going. Yet the other day I had 2080's pop going, and you wouldn't let me change the channel when they started playing all those sucky love songs."

"They are not sucky. They are sentimental, there is a difference."

I frowned. "About the only time I don't have to use my head phones is when I'm on watch and you're sleeping." She smiled again, and said nothing. Go Figure.&&

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, June, 2^nd, 2104

At the midway point we disconnected from the head of the train, turned around, flew to the end of the train, and reattached. This way we'd be in the right place for the slow down burn for Mars orbital insertion. I let Tracey pilot this time. She did it by the book, and perfect. We also recalculated the flight plan by hand and on the computer... just to double check. Not only did I not make my usual mistakes and have to correct, but I finished before the computer did, something I've not done in at least the last four years.

Ok, quick recap. Ever since I started taking those vitamins I've been feeling better. Tracey insisted I work out a bit more, and run. I'm in better shape now than I have been since I was in my 20's. I read faster, and I had to stop using my reading glasses.

Honestly I hadn't thought about it. The coffee got better every day, or so it seemed. So did the food. The air smelled sweeter than it did right after the flush and fill. I actually slept soundly most nights and my back stopped hurting too.

 

* * *

 

I got up one morning and was about to pop my vitamins in my mouth when I happened to notice one had a label.... So I looked. "Fountain" it said. I clenched my fist around it and went up to the bridge where Tracey was on watch.

"How long have you been feeding me these things?"

She turned and looked at me standing in the hatchway. "Since we boosted, why?"

I tossed her the Fountain pill "And this?" I said, with all the accusation I could put in my voice.

It floated over to her in zero-gee, she caught it and looked at it seeing the label. "The whole time. Why is it a problem?" she looked right back at me, right in my eyes and didn't even try to hide it. No shame there at all.

"Couldn't you have told me that's what I was taking?" I grabbed one of the rungs to keep from floating away. She tossed it back and I caught it.

"It is part of your contract, had you bothered to read it. You have to be in perfect health, and you needed Fountain to get there."

My mind went blank. I'd worked up quite a yelling match in my head, and now it was out the airlock. She did have a point. All that hard work, the vitamins, and the running ... it should not have had as much effect as I'd seen in these last few months.

Again with the ear thing ... I looked down at the pills in my hand.

"Tell me before you do something like this next time. I'm not a kid anymore, I can handle the truth." As I floated back down the hatch, I thought I caught a grin on her face as she turned around to watch the monitors.

Ok, I took it, along with the rest of them once I got back to my coffee. I'd already been on them awhile, and it'd not hurt to keep on them. I made it a point not to talk to her for a couple hours however ... Pride is a horrid animal, and mine had been hurt.

In case you've been living in a cave for the last 83 years, I'll explain what the heck Fountain is. Fountain is an anti-geriatric. The chemical works by repairing the frayed ends of DNA strains, giving the DNA a longer replicating cycle. A one-month tour of Fountain is calculated to double the life expectancy of the average human. Or so the brochures say. I had to look them up on the net to get that info.

I'm no genetics guru. All I know is The Fred, Fred Hastings of Apollo Freight, has been on the stuff since shortly after it went public. That was back in 2022. He was born in 1984. Its 2104 now.

You do the math.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, June, 20^th, 2104

Have you ever had a knock-down, drag-out argument? The kind where both people involved were screaming and yelling at the top of their lungs and throwing things, hurling insults back and forth like a Frisbee or Racquetball? Not actually hitting each other, but trying to hurt the other as much as possible with words? Throwing things against the wall and slamming things like chairs out of the way?

Yeah, it was one of those kind of days. Truth is I can't for the life of me remember how it all got started. I'd been a bit testy since I learned about the Fountain pills she'd been feeding me since we boosted, and the underhanded way she steered me around by my ears all the time. It just kinda built up to it. Then it kind of got away from us.

We're Latin, and passion runs strong through us. It finally got to the point I couldn't think of anything else to hurl at her so I yelled at the top of my lungs pointing out of the galley. "You Go To Your Room!"

She stopped, stunned by what I had just said. Her eyes went wide, then began to water. I took a couple of deep breaths and lost most of my fire. She covered her mouth with her hand and I could see her shoulders beginning to shake.

I had just really started to feel bad about that when she burst out laughing. It took a minute to sink in just how absurd it was before I joined her.

After a moment we both collapsed in chairs unable to stop laughing. Then we hugged.

"Stop treating me like a little girl." She giggled.

"Spoiled brat."

"Crotchety old fart," She retorted.

I looked her in the eyes still smiling. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Well, if you ever try to spank me, you're going to get the same treatment that the louse in the bar got

"I think I'll pass on that." ." We hugged again.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, August, 10^th, 2104

You have no idea what it's like to hear such a lovely voice growling and almost yelling while singing. Tracey had her guitar out at least once a week and spent a few hours belting out tunes that must have had Ted Nugent dancing in his grave. Mainly, cause they were mostly his tunes.

It's not like she was playing solo, nah, she had built in backup in that synth-amp built into her guitar.

We'd pass a ship heading the other way and she'd fire up the guitar to inspire and motivate the gents on the other boat. She was always a hit. She'd had to tone back a bit so it wasn't over distorted on the comm-set, but she played regularly for a couple days, took requests, ran her impromptu concerts on her off hours between shifts, except when she was sleeping.

Had a couple guys threaten to jump ship and board us by force once, jokingly. At least I hope it was a joke. Wouldn'ta worked. Backasswards is a small target to hit, and there was an awful LOT of space around us. I think they were on the Baby Tigron Samil.

We kept our shifts even. 6 on, 6 off, rinse repeat et al. So any 24-hour period looked something like this on the watch list:

0:00-06:00 Casey on watch, Tracey asleep (Third Dog Watch)

06:00-1200 Tracey on watch, Casey off duty (Day Watch)

12:00-18:00 Casey on watch, Tracey off duty (First Dog Watch)

18:00-0:00 Tracey on watch, Casey asleep (Second Dog Watch)

Would have worked a little bit better with more people, but it worked.

 

* * *

 

I learned about five years later that the Baby Tigron Samil was "lost at sea due to pirate actions" in the early days of the 'war'. The reports I read lead me to believe the ISP was involved, but nothing official ever confirmed it. Having seen what one of those ISP corvettes are capable of in a ship to ship battle against an unarmed and unarmored vessel, I have no doubts at all.

All hands were reportedly lost.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, September, 9^th, 2104

"Mars Control, this is Independent Spacers Guild freight hauler Backasswards coming into parking orbit twelve klicks from nominal. Requesting harbor pilot beacon for delivery, please." Tracey called in. I rode left seat but let her do the work.

"Backasswards, Mars Control. Vector 7.34, angels 4, freq 285 for parking station theta one four actual. Confirm."

"Confirmed, Mars Control. Vector 7.34, angels 4, freq 285 for parking station theta one four actual." She punched the coordinates into the computer.

"Welcome to Mars, Backasswards." Control replied

"Good to be home, Mars Control. Backasswards Out," she replied with a smile.

Tracey parked the load, the tugs came to get the cargo pods and fuel tanks. The latter would be refilled over the course of a couple days for the next boost, the former would be divvied up and shipped to where it needed to go.

The B.A.W. could technically land on mars. Not something I'd ever done, but since Mars only has 1/3^rd gee and no atmosphere worth speaking of, I could do it if I had to. For the load still in the stateroom we'd have to touchdown for delivery so they could get that stuff outta my ship. Tracey sent a coded signal to the agents of Percival Steinberg in New Atlanta, and got a coded message back where to land and when.

Tracey and I both plotted the course and beat the computer, again. "No disservice to your piloting, but I'll take her in. I've never done this before either, OK?"

"Aye, Sir." It took a tense long while, but we hit the mark in one. I don't like standing her on her ass like this, but it's about all we can do without help, and there ain't a cradle on Mars made for the Backasswards to lay down in.

It also makes it really hard to move around her. She's not meant for gravity. And I had to stop the G-ring with that stateroom closest to pressure, so the floor would actually be easier to get to.

I'll hand it to whoever was running this side of the show. They had the docking port extended as soon as I shut her down and locked my board.

The same kind of security crew was waiting on us as showed up to install the load. And the same kinda bean counter as well. Actually it looked like his twin. Identical Twin.

"I am Galahad Steinberg, Captain. Your First officer contacted my employers." He did not offer his hand. I guess it runs in the family.

"Your cargo is this way, Mr. Steinberg." I led the way to the stateroom and the boxes wielded to my deck as best I could .

Galahad unlocked padlock on the door and opened it ... and dammed if there wasn't the 150 kilo shadow sitting on the bunk all strapped in with shotgun leveled at us and LOTS of MRE wrappers all over the wall. As soon as he saw Mr. Steinberg he safed the shotgun and pointed it in a neutral direction.

"What the hell is this!? No one mentioned a Rider? He could have been killed!"

Mr. Steinberg raised a hand. "Jerry has made 9 trips like this, with never a problem, Captain. His armor is actually an EVA suit, and he's never bored."

I grabbed the bean counter and pulled him to with in an inch of my nose. "I don't care what you do with your employees, chuck 'em out the lock for all I care. But when they are on MY Ship! I need to know these things. This ship has to be balanced to the gram or it could kill every person on board. It's my anso, Mr. Steinberg. My Duty. Next time you decide to pull some fucking stunt like this I will throw your anso out the fucking lock myself!"

That's about the time I noticed the shotgun next to my temple. I dropped the bean counter to the deck. He straightened his glasses and tie. Jerry took a step back with his shotgun.

"I understand your outrage, Captain. We made sure this stateroom had a refresher before we attached the cargo here. It was the deciding factor, actually, to ensure Jerry's safe arrival with the cargo. As for the mess, it will be cleaned up before we leave. The weld marks will still be visible, until we reinstall the carpeting."

I turned and stormed out. I never argue with a shotgun. I went into the galley and tried to get a squeeze bulb of coffee. Hard to do when you're walking on the walls and your hands are shaking with rage.

"Captain?" Tracey called me from the doorway.

"I'm not happy right now." I growled back.

"I know. I am not very happy either. But Mr. Steinberg needs us to leave the ship while the cases are removed." She was lying on the bulkhead and hanging her head in the doorway. I tossed my coffee bulb back toward the counter and braced my feet against the wall for the jump to the doorway. 1/3^rd gee makes the leap possible, and all that exercise didn't hurt, either. Tracey stuck out an arm and I took her hand. She pulled me through the door, and we exited the ship. We were met by a CGC rep who hugged Tracey, and me. Better than a hand shake if you ask me.

"I am Kimi Kleman, Grandmother with CGC." She was a Germanic beauty if I've ever seen one.

"My pleasure, Mrs. Kleman." I smiled.

"I hope Tracey performed to your satisfaction, Captain?"

I looked to Tracey, then back. "Save for a misunderstanding or two, she performed well above my expectations, Mrs. Kleman."

She looked serious for a moment. "Yes, I was informed. We do not normally staff ships with offspring, but Rei Yotori cleared this special case personally. I hope it did not cause any problems with you Captain Maxwell."

"There was a shortage of cold water for the showers there for a while, but we made the best of the situation, Mrs. Kleman." Kleman nodded and looked to Tracey.

"My mother's husband does not know, Grandmother, but my mother is aware of the relationship between us." Kleman nodded.

"Well, you two had to have time to work out your relationship and get to know each other. It was a long trip, and you undoubtedly need some down time. I will make arrangements to have your ship refueled, Captain Maxwell. Until then, Welcome to Mars. I would be honored if you would accept the hospitality of my household for your stay." She bowed. I returned it.

"I could not refuse such a generous offer. It'd be my honor to stay with your household, Mrs. Kleman." My manners were improving

She chuckled. "You don't have to call me Mrs. Kleman, Kimi will do." We shared a smile, which is very easy to do in such company

About an hour later the bean counter returned with his 150 kilo shadow and 9 other guards, who were carrying the cases out.

"Captain. The ship has been returned to its' original condition. Do you have the paperwork?" I removed the bill of lading from a pocket and handed it to him. He initialed the receipts and handed back my three copies. "I would like to apologize for the misunderstanding Captain. Your reaction was understandable, and quite moderate compared to some. This will not exempt you from further contracts, of course." When he offered his hand, I looked at it a second, then took it.

"Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Steinberg. Please warn me next time, and there'll be no problems. I would prefer that Jerry, or his replacement, ride on the bridge where the Duke/Brannick box would ease the ride for him a bit. Also, it might aide my journey to have another soul to talk to."

Galahad Steinberg smiled "I doubt it. Jerry does not talk, except for sign language." He turned and led the goon squad off.

We watched them leave, then I turned to secure my ship. "One thing before you dog down the hatch, Captain Maxwell." I looked over my shoulder and saw a most unbecoming frown on Kimi's face.

"Yes?"

"Firearms are not permitted inside the dome for safety reasons. I am going to have to ask you to secure it onboard, please." in the tone of her voice that made it clear that I would not only NOT be asked a second time, and would regret it if I refused. I was also a little annoyed that my little secret was out.

When I glanced at Tracey who was a step behind Mrs. Kleman, she gave a slight wide eyed "Not Me" shake of her head. I looked back at Mrs. Kleman.

"Of course. One moment, please." I said with a smile, stepped in and dogged the hatch.

Moving around a ship that is meant for zero-gee, not really meant to land, and orientated the wrong way to, makes getting around a little difficult. But I got to the armory, stowed the .38 and secured it. I also removed the holster, but I wasn't gonna walk around naked. No, I grabbed the Bowie Knife, looped in onto my belt, and strapped it to my leg. It's a big one. One of my grand parents, or great grand parents I'm not sure, was into the whole "Mountain Man" thing. The knife had been handed down basically to anyone living in the family that wanted it. I got it cause knives are always loaded.

Anyway, I headed back out and secured the hatch, not bothering to lock it. Not a glance was spared for the knife, or they looked at it while I was clambering out of the hatch. I offered my arm to Mrs. Kleman

"Shall we?" She smiled and took my arm.

"Oh no you don't!" Tracey took my other arm "You are not going to drag me behind like a kite."

We all smiled and like we were off to see the Wizard. We started to stroll down the yellow brick road... Well, yellow lighted corridor.

 

Chapter 5

Dear Diary, September, 16^th, 2104

Mrs. Kleman was changed to Grandmother, which quickly yielded to Kimi for me while I was with her household. She was an excellent hostess, I wanted for nothing ... and boy do I mean nothing. She had several younger CareGivers in her household as well as a couple of men. I could tell at first glance they were just dying for attention ... yeah right. A man's lap would stay empty of a female for only as long as he wished, and there were more than a couple of ladies that would keep it warm for you if you asked nicely.

Now, I'm not gonna say that every female in the household was willing. Most were not. But they were very pleasant to be around, and just sitting in your lap and talking was a popular past time with the ladies when they were not working. Ekaterina was probably my favorite. Russian job, green eyes, red hair and a temper to match. I won't go into too much detail. It's not polite to kiss and tell. Let me just say that I spent a couple days getting to know her Biblically, and enjoyed every second of it. Tracey didn't spend too much time in the household. She had duties on station while "visiting", out in the working parts of the dome.

Oh, yeah. In case you didn't know, New Atlanta is on the Cydonia Mesa, between the pyramids and the Face On Mars. They, CareGivers that is, got a building out there that they do a lot of studying in. research and stuff ... I was not allowed inside, but I did get the nickel tour by rolligon. Had to suit up for that. But it was worth it, I guess. For over a century MAN has wanted to find out what the Face On Mars was. Looked like a rock to me. Big friggin' rock, but rock none the less.

Oh, another thing before I forget to mention it again. My comset was fixed too, so everything was back to factory spec or better. Since I had to wear it for the tour I thought I'd mention it. There were also a couple new coded channels installed, but I hadn't got around to asking about these yet.

We ended up staying on Mars about two weeks before I decided I needed to find a load going out to the belts. I already knew what I'd be hauling back from there. Same thing every body else does. Ingots. Semi refined ingots of various metals. And this time around it looked like I'd be going to the Wango- Tango refinery instead of The Jules Vern like last time.

Despite what most people think, there is a LOT of room in the asteroid belt. Thousands of miles between rocks is the rule, not the exception. Some of them are the size of a small car, others the size of a small country. The refineries float around out there crunching up the rocks and getting anything and everything usable out of them, then ships it all back to earth.

I hadn't been thinking a lot about Tracey, but I did notice she'd been gone a while. When I inquired, Kimi told me "She's around," with a little smile. I used my imagination, and then went for a walk. I found her; oh boy did I find her. I nudged a couple elbows and got the short version. She'd been walking by the bar when a guy asked her if she was alone. Another jumped in and tried to make her a better offer. A fight almost broke out. She stopped it and decided to have a spot of fun. Oh, they were competing for her alright ... a Poetry Contest.

Rocket Jocks, hammer brains, foundry flunkies, atom smashers, and zero-gee monkeys ... all taking turns trying to impress her with what little wit, or half of one, they could come up with. Here are a couple of the better ones...

"Hair of darkest black, framing such a lovely rack ..." He was shouted down and thrown out...

"God's gift to all is love ...I wish I had the receipt."

"The shadow dissipates as the sun illuminates, leaving only wondrous shades of knowledge"

"Hair dark as space, on a lovely head, So much there, got to be good in Bed!" He was also thrown out

Then a thirtyish man stepped forward. Broad shouldered, brown bearded. Composed himself for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Lodged by Robert Frost

The rain to the wind said, 'You push and I'll pelt.'

They so smote the garden bed, that the flowers actually knelt,

And lay lodged—though not dead. I know how the flowers felt."

Tracey applauded, and so did some of the others. I gathered he won, cause about a half hour later when I got back from getting a coffee, they were alone and talking at the bar, the crowd had dispersed. I'm not sure what they were talking about, they stopped as soon as I got in earshot and Tracey looked to me with a smile.

"Captain Maxwell, I would like you to meet Jorge Waco, freelance Belt miner." I stuck out my hand and his paw engulfed mine. Firm grip too.

"My pleasure, Capitán Maxwell. Tracey here was just telling me about the boat."

I frowned slightly and corrected him. "Ship you mean." He didn't even blink.

"Of course, Sir. She told me the lengths you went through to keep her flying. I must say I'm right impressed."

I smiled, "Flattery will get you everywhere Mr. Waco."

"Call me 'Psycho Joe', everybody does, or just Joe." I looked at him weird. "'Psycho, not stupid' I picked that up somewhere long ago and it stuck."

I didn't spend too much time getting to know Jorge right then. I figured Tracey would get him outta her system quick enough, then back to business. I guess I was wrong. He moved in with Kimi and the gals about two days later, and was an instant hit, but seemed off limits. I wasn't, so I didn't bother saying anything.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, September, 20^th, 2104

It's amazing what engineers can get done in a short amount of time when a woman of Kimi's standing asks them to do something as a "Personal Favor". The B.A.W. got a "Custom" built cradle for Mars surface landings. Not much more than an I-beam skeleton that could level the ship after landing, and a ramp to the main airlock. Main engines are a bit too powerful to be too close to pressure, but an armature was in the planning stages. For now we could walk out and climb in without too much trouble. I was also told that it was going to be remote controllable from the ship when it was done. I guess they expect me on this contract for a while if I was getting my own designated parking place.

Turns out Joe and Tracey got along fairly well as I noted during his stay with Kimi. He stuck around quite a bit, actually. He'd taken a puddle jumper to the surface as his belt-runner was not able to handle atmo. So, like a proud father that I guess I was, in an off-hand kinda way, I offered him a lift back upstairs. Joe's not the kind you instantly like, ya gotta kinda warm up to him. But there was nothing to hate right off the bat, save for he was making eyes on my little girl, and that was enough to keep me trying to find something to loath ... Not sure I'm happy I didn't find anything.

Of course he was headed back out to the belts, same as we. And Of course wouldn't it be great if he could tag along with us. He apparently had couplers on his belt-runner for just that, and had got "Lifts" back out there more than once. He could piggy back between the engines during boost, then attach to the nose airlock till mid-route maneuvering, then again till braking time for Terran orbit. Meanwhile he could enjoy the luxuries of space, the kind inside where the pressure was, instead of being cooped up in his "Briar Patch" for the flight. It was only really big enough for 2-4 people to run around the belts a bit. And no more than two to make a Mars run and back out except in emerganices.

What's the Briar Patch? Hell if I know. Looks like an old pickup truck or like it was built from legos or something. Had one standard size airlock right in the nose between the pilot seats to the lower deck. Took a look around it once. Too small for my tastes. It almost reminds me of those runabouts I saw while the Robert A. Heinlein was being built. The Heinlein's supposed to take another flight sometime next year while I'm heading back into Terra from the belts. I guess I'll find out when I get back there.

This time I logged into CGC-net and found something I liked. The Prices. Oh, and the loads weren't too bad either. Turns out the Wango-Tango was short on some stuff and had already had loaded it into standardized cargo pods I could haul. Very nice of them, if you ask me. I tried to get one of the ladies in Kimi's household to come with us for the company, and an extra hand of course, but they were all spoken for. Contract-wise that is. I knew what you were thinking. Ekaterina wanted to, but she also wanted to "Stay where the action is" as she put it. I guess she was into something fascinating out at The Face. Science nut from what I gathered, but of course she wouldn't talk about work too much. I guess I'm not cleared for it yet.

 

* * *

 

I have since learned about a few of the lesser things going on out there. Fascinating, really. I am, of course, not going to talk about it to anyone. You wouldn't believe me if I told you, and that's just the minor stuff I've been let in on.

Hell, I'm involved in it and I'm not sure I even believe it.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, March, 28^th, 2105

We boosted with a good load and made for the belts. Tracey and Jorge spent a lot of time together. Kids, can't blame them too much. I did put him to work while he was on board. He took the third dog watch and I got me a bit more sleep. One more person and it'd be almost perfect shift rotation. 4 on, eight off was what we settled on. He did ok. Once we were coasting, there wasn't really all that much to do but watch the screens and follow intercept radio traffic and relay. Plenty of time to relax, routine maintenance, cleaning, that sorta thing. We did do one sit-down together meal once a day, for jokes and smokes, as they say back dirtside.

Most of my food stores were the freeze dried, just add hot water and wait a few minutes, variety. Not bad, better than some choke-and-pukes back dirtside. But we also had fresh-frozen stores that required actual preparation. Once a week we had steaks for instance, all the trimmings of course. Chicken, fried or BBQ'd. It's that kinda cooking that reminds every one why we're out here. Every body pitches in on that kinda meal, and the bridge runs on automatic with remote alarms.

Of course it was during the steaks that the alarms went off one day on the backwards leg of the trip, about a week or more out from the refinery. We were in the middle of our meal and some very raunchy jokes when all hell broke loose, alarms everywhere. I'm pretty sure the only reason I was the first one to the bridge was, it's My Ship.

Anyway, it was a distress call. "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! This is the Merlin's Prank! We've been hulled by an unknown object! Half our crew down, two souls remaining! We are adrift and spinning, controls not responsive. I think, I think we've been knocked off course. Computers shorted and the backup's older than Moses. Our suits have limited air. Can some one help us?"

Three heads started plotting their beacon, then I remembered to have the computer work on it too. Didn't need to have bothered, Joe's was the only one that differed, and then only by about 2 meters relative our position.

"Merlin's Prank, This is the Backasswards on GUARD. We copy your mayday and read you at position ..." I checked my notes and read off the coordinates "Confirmed, Two souls on board, hulled and spinning. We are ..." I checked the position, distance and read that off too "Copy and confirm, please." GUARD is the international emergency channel, kinda like CB channel 9 used to be. All ships are required to monitor it 24/7.

"Copy and Confirmed, Backasswards." was the shaky reply. That crew was on the edge of panic. I kept to official procedures to help knock him back into his emergency training. Panic does nobody any good when the shit hits the fan. Cool heads save lives.

"Backasswards, this is Danny Boy. Copy your position. You are closer by at least 4 hours than us. We have medical team on board for assist if needed."

"Copy that, Danny Boy."

"Backasswards, this is the ISP Corvette Sierra Zulu 711, Lieutenant Thurston Maddox commanding on GUARD. I plot you in best intercept position. Copy and Confirm."

I grumbled. I'd have helped them anyway, this stuffed shirt didn't need to stick his nose into it and make it Official And Mandatory. Bastardos. "Copy and Confirm, Sierra Zulu. WILCO. Merlin's Prank, Backasswards on GUARD. We have a runabout standing by and will launch for intercept ASAP. Be ready to bug-out. Runabout does not have power enough to tow your ship, but we can take four souls onboard. Copy and confirm." I took one look at Jorge, who nodded and headed down the hatch to the airlock to get prepped for intercept.

No, I didn't ask him. I didn't have to. And if you don't understand it, then you're not a Spacer. I'd heard once that people dirtside wouldn't even help a woman with a flat tire on the side of the road if it was raining. Considering the rain they get ... well, no. I'd always help a woman. Rain, or shine. Or that white stuff ... you know, cold. Snow, yeah, that's it. Been more than a few years since I seen it. Remember having fun in it when I was a kid, now it just gives me nasty colds.

"Copy, Backasswards. Hurry please."

Had to keep his mind working. "No Worries, Merlin's Prank. What's your atmo status?" The more he sat idle, the more worried he'd get. He was suited up, so he was in no immediate danger ... I hoped.

"Reading 14 pounds on the flight deck, Zero in the main gangway. No reading from other stations. Only got those readings from idiot boxes next to the door. Gravity generator's out also."

"Copy. 14, zero and zero-gee. When we get out there you're going to have to bleed off the bridge pressure so we can get the door open, But. Don't. Do. Anything. Yet! The controls should be right next to the idiot boxes on the bulkhead next to the door. Double check your EVA suit, and check your buddy. Do you have an O2 tap for bottles on the bridge?"

"Ok. Um ... I don't know. Byron's suit doesn't have a radio. Mine's only got 4 channels. I'm jacked into the radio on the dash."

"What's yer name, son?"

"Vilhelm, Sir. Vilhelm Dyson."

"OK, Dyson. Here's what I want you to do. Have Byron touch the side of his helmet to yours. Tell him that we are on our way. Tell him you both need to double check your suits and look for an O2 tap and spare bottles. When my runabout docks with you, she's gonna have to depressurize the bridge to get that hatch open. That means you're going to have to stay in your suits till we get you back to the Backasswards. I have a really nice looking lady here that'll have dinner waiting for you, so just relax."

While I was talking, Tracey leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Jorge has finished his emergency preflight, and dogged both hatches. He'll be separating in a moment. He's on channel 1307." I nodded. Dyson and Byron didn't need to hear weird noises over the radio from my ship while they were this close to panic. I dialed a second line to 1307.

"Briar Patch, Backasswards. Say status?"

"Backasswards, Briar Patch. Ready to detach. Vector plotted and burn dialed in. I've used no fuel really, yet, so I'm gonna burn her a bit harder. Get them boys to pressure ASAP."

"Copy that. Stay within safety limits, Briar Patch. My little girl wouldn't wanna sleep alone tonight, so you get you and them back here, got me?"

He chuckled, "Really Backasswards, you been listening at keyholes again?

"Them are my key holes to listen at. Besides, neither one of you are exactly quiet when you forget to latch the door and think I'm to stupid or old to know that you're not playing Pinochle in there. Get going you..."

He detached "And God Speed."

"Back in a jiff. Briar Patch free and clear." I switched back over to the GUARD again. Hadn't turned it off while I was on the other set. I guess I'd kept the kid busy enough to keep his mind off it for a bit. Joe's intercept was 12 hours. As long as they could refill their bottles or not lose pressure and breath atmo a bit they'd be ok ... providing of course, their beacon wasn't sending a false signal.

"Sierra Zulu 711, Backasswards on GUARD."

"Go Ahead, Backasswards." arrogant anso.

"Sierra Zulu, please confirm position and track to Merlin's Prank for triangulation confirmation for intercept." Even if he wasn't going to stick to the rules of emergency radio protocol, I would. And shove it right back in his face.

"My position is none of your business, Backasswards. Triangulation plots Merlin's Prank exactly where his beacon says he is." Anso.

"Copy that, Sierra Zulu. I'll remind you that it's my runabout doing the rescue and my people on the line. By the rules of International Space Regulatory Commission you are REQUIRED to forward any requested information to assist a rescue."

"I confirmed his location!" Stuffed shirt was getting hot under the collar.

"And I will include that information along with these transcripts to the ISRC as required by Law."

"How Dare you ..."

"Sign off, Sierra Zulu. This channel is conducting emergency rescue operations at this time and your chatter is disrupting them." I smiled a cold smile "Merlin's Prank, Backasswards do you still copy?"

"Backasswards, Merlin's Prank. I Copy. Byron found two spare bottles, and we have a tap. Water's a bit of a problem, but we can rough it for a while as long as you bring along drinks and an in-flight movie. What's on the menu tonight?"

I chuckled. He was settling down and regaining his sense of humor, that was a good sign. Or a very bad one. Mortality can do funny things to people. I hoped for the best and left it at that.

"Well, if you like, I have freeze dried peas, dehydrated ice cream, and soymilk latte powder ... Or when you get here we can fire up the grill and you can help cook some Kansas City Steaks. Frozen, unfortunately. Ol' Bessy took a walk outside and forgot to change out her air bottle."

He chuckled, "If your flight attendant is cute, I'll take anything she feeds me, but until then I think I'll look forward to your unfortunate Ol' Bessy. Umm ,.. Bessy was a cow, right?"

I chuckled, "Yeah, she was. I hope medium is OK for you two."

We kept up the banter 15 minutes at a time every hour on the hour. Plotted drift and sent corrections to Jorge. He confirmed and informed me he was right on the money. He'd triple checked beacon coordinates and guessed about right on the drift rate. He must have goosed her hard cause he had made rendezvous in 11 hours, topped the extra bottles off the O2 tap and got the guys out after depressurizing the bridge.

Once snug in the Briar Patch, Jorge took a complete visual recording of the vessel. What was left of the Merlin's Prank would do for a good fixer-upper... if you had a dry-dock handy. The two stiffs were never found I'm told. The captain and engineer were MIA. Funny thing was, they had to have been in exactly the wrong spots on different decks, or ... Well, the Captain's cabin is where the hit occurred. Use your imagination. Not my thing, but some people go that way after years out here. I hope they were happy, or are happy wherever they are.

I called the SZ711 and got the Jg on watch. He confirmed two souls recovered and sent a dispatch for a hull recovery team. Non-salvage of course. There had been people alive on it when it was found so the company would get the scrap back, and either strip it or patch it. Joe goosed it back as well. 11 hours and 2 minutes. I called the SZ711 again and got the same Jg. He again confirmed safe recovery of two souls, thanked us, and signed off.

We got our guests situated in separate rooms, it's not like I didn't have the room for them, then got them fed. After a day or two the nightmares eased off them both ... Of course their sleeping in the same bunk helped, I think, but that's not my business. They were good boys. At least pretended to stay in their separate rooms for a night or two before they gave it up and just stayed together for comfort's sake. Byron turned out to be a half-decent cook once he stopped trying to use dehydrated stuff and used real food. Dyson was assistant engineer, third flight out. Tried to keep them busy, but not overload them. Of course Tracey was a hit. She and Byron chatted gaily every chance they got. Byron's lisp got a little unnerving though.

We made the slow down burn for the Wango-Tango refinery and made our drop. That done, we offloaded Byron and Vilhelm Dyson. Never did learn Byron's last name. Should have, for paperwork's sake. Anyway, two souls saved, and that ain't nothin' as they say.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, April, 5^th, 2105

Most Pounders will never spend any time in free fall, let alone zero-gee. Wango-Tango's artificial gravity generators, i.e. the Duke/Brannick Box, were on the fritz … that's some of the parts I brought. Some luxury items, and the most important piece of paperwork to a plant like this. Toilet Paper. Don't laugh, it's worth more than gold when you start running low. Don't believe me? Try using plastic next time. And that last statement goes for them tree-hugging hippie freaks as well.

We dumped our load off, and they reloaded us with Ingots. Everybody that comes out here goes back with the same thing. Semi-refined metals. As much as you can haul. The pay is usually not open to much negotiation … but when you have a CareGiver on your arm and introduce her as your First Officer, well … I won't say that I used her to get a better price. I just frowned at him till he started making better offers. Tracey just smiled. Jorge stayed back, out of the office like a good boy. I wish I'd got these rates all along … but then I'd probably not have had to go to CareGivers. It's a circular argument.

"Captain Maxwell, you heard the news from Dirtside?" the fat Paymaster asked

"No, anything interesting?" I asked

"Remember that Argonaut incident last year?"

"Yeah, I think I heard something about it. Pilot got out didn't he?"

"Barely, but yeah. They forced him out on a medical, and looks like he joined CareGivers. Instructor or something I guess. Lord knows they could use a guy with that much space time under his belt."

"That so? Anything else? Anything we should know about?" Tracey squeezed my arm slightly, since she was still holding it, but didn't say anything.

"Yeah, them Idiots back home passed the PWA, and I'm going on rotation next month." When I looked puzzled, he sighed "The Protection Of Women Act. It prohibits females of childbearing age to undertake dangerous professions, including being in space. Means next month when I head home to Indiana for a couple weeks I'm not gonna be able to get any nookie on the way, except maybe from DSC. Six months one way and no women to ease the journey." He shook his head

I put on my most profound smile "That sounds terrible."

He snorted "You North Americans should stop passing stupid laws like that." He gave me an arch look.

I shook my head . "The PWA is in the U.N. for debate this month.".

"And I'm sure it'll die there. The world is not as silly as you North Americans. They can't expect us Spacers to keep at these jobs with no women. Didn't they learn anything from the Discovery incident back in 2019? And that was you North Americans lost, too." He nodded, sighed, then shrugged.

"Optimal fuel return window is 01:45 tomorrow and stays open for a few days. You'll be loaded within 48 hours from the top of this hour, so you'll have the whole shot going back." I nodded, glanced at Tracey, who also nodded.

"Thank you for your time, Sir."

At that, he smiled. "Little lady, if you keep coming here with him, I might lose my closely guarded reputation as a penny pinching scrooge."

As they both smiled, I piped in said as we left , "I'll have to remember that."

On the way back to the dock there was a gravitational alarm notice. everybody grabbed a handhold and hoped they were not wrong side up while they tested the Duke/Brannick Box.

It kicked, sputtered, reversed for a second, and then quit. "Feels like the regulator is gone, too." Tracey was still holding onto her hand hold, feet firmly planted on the ceiling.

I'd found a doorway and wedged myself in. "Yeah, and that's one of the daily check items too. They shoulda had half a dozen replacements for it in stores. Who ever lost them will have hell to pay."

"Or vacuum to breath," she concluded as she maneuvered her way back down the hall pulling herself along the various hand holds with me and Jorge in tow behind her.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, April, 15^th, 2105

Load was ready on time and we launched. Jorge rode in the Briar Patch piggy backed onto the Backasswards. He wouldn't use thrust unless he had to break away from some reason. He was loaded for bear and extra fuel bladders too.

Why the hell was he heading to Earth after we got him all the way back out to the belts? Why do you think?

Not much to say about the next week or so, except the increase in noise about the PWA. Looked like common sense was gonna break out in the U.N. for a change, or at least we hoped so. There were a lotta fence sitters in the news, and most of them North Americans making all the "Pro-PWA" noise. Who listens to them Americans anyway? I mean, really. Look at their history. Noisy, loud mouthed, aggressive antagonists. Ok, they won two world wars, and a bunch of little ones when their own politicians weren't giving away what the soldiers died for.

I should have given them yammerheads a bit more credit. I'll never forget it. It was April 15^th of 2105. All stations reported it. I couldn't speak, nor Tracey or Joe.

The U.N. passed the Protection of Women Act. All women currently operating in space would be "Recalled" to Earth on a permanent basis. Never again further than Orbit, or maybe the Moon. That basically shuts down CareGivers and XX-Flight, CareGivers only serious rival. CareGivers Corp covers most everything including morale, XX-Flight only employs Pilots and Astrogaters. Female of course, but the morale of the crew is not their concern. They are all naturals who are on Fountain if they choose, … I think. Never looked into them really, must have slipped my mind. They'd have been cheaper if I'd had to pay for my CareGiver, so I guess it worked out better in the long run.

To say that dinner that night was subdued.

At least till Tracey had an idea. "Jorge honey, what is the thrust capability and fuel limit on the Briar Patch?" He thought a while and offered to go get the manual to double check it.

Tracey and I shared a look. "It'd be awfully cramped in there with the extra food and fuel." I commented, knowing what she had in mind already.

Her eyes burned. Almost in tears. "If I go back to Earth … then everything I've done will have been for nothing."

I shook my head. "Not everything, baby. You gave me my life back, and more. When we left Terra, all I had was a ship and a prayer. Now I have a daughter I couldn't be more proud of, and a ship that'll last at least as long as I will with a little bit of maintenance. Not to mention a longer life because of that low down despicable dirty trick you pulled on me." We shared a slight smile for a moment.

Jorge returned with the spec manual and we poured over it. I used the computer and we all used pen and paper to double check everything.

"We'd be arriving on fumes, and only enough to stop, maybe maneuver a little bit, that's all." Jorge noted clinically.

I looked him in the eye. "Well, they don't call you 'Psycho Joe' for nothing. And this would definitely put that beyond dispute."

I looked to Tracey, and then back to Jorge. "Mister Waco, I'm about to trust you with the single most precious thing I have ever had. My Daughter. Is there a single thing in your mind that says 'I can't do this'? If so, say so right now."

He thought about it, looking back over the numbers. Tracey kept quite. He shook his head. "It'll be cramped, uncomfortable, and stuffy. But, no Sir. I can't think of a single thing that says 'No Joy' on this. We plotted a launch to Mars 4 days from now. With fuel bladders and extra food stuffs, max safety rated burn, then a lot of coasting …" He looked up into my eyes. "We can do this, with your permission, Sir."

We both looked to Tracey, who was crying softly.

I took her hand. "Your idea. You say it's a 'Go Mission' or 'No Joy'."

She took a long time to answer, considering all the factors. When she answered, it was a Spacers Answer. My heart broke with pride, it also just broke.

"Go Mission."

 

* * *

 

Here we are again. Back to that stupid law mucking with everybody's rights, lives and freedoms. Why can they not just leave us alone? It must have something to do with the Puritans and why they got kicked out of England. Such a repressive regime, I cannot fathom how or why anyone would NEED to control other peoples lives such as that. Live and Let Live. And Yee Harm None, Do As Thou Wilt. To Each Their Own. Any way you put it, it still comes out the same way. "The Government that Governs Least, Governs best" and that is a direct quote from Thomas Jefferson, the guy that wrote the Constitution for the United States.

My life has been turned on its head because someone cannot stand seeing other people minding their own business and doing it well.

I would be the first one to lend a hand to a friend, and I would not be averse to helping a complete stranger in time of need, either, as I think I showed with the Merlin's Prank incident. I could not even imagine the desire to control other people the way this was set up to do.

Oh, sure, I am the Captain of my ship. My Word is Law on my ship. As long as things are done my way I have no issue. You stand your watch or you have it covered, works for me. But what a person does in their bedroom, as long as it does not endanger myself, my ship, or my crew is truly none of my business.

So, here I sit typing out a journal entree in the recovery ward on the Charles Sheffield and trying to figure out what to do next with my life. But then again, I still have not finished the tale as far as it has gone, either. I might as well finish that up a bit more.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, April, 19^th, 2105

The next three days were very busy getting the Briar Patch ready to sail. Checking and rechecking everything. One person stayed on the bridge and two did EVA on the fuel tanks. We recycled the air system through a jerry-rig attachment, and same with the water reclamation systems on the Briar Patch. Not that she needed it too badly, but just to be on the safe side. Backasswards had just been flushed and filled, both sides, and she had plenty of extra for one old cobber to get back to Terra. I don't have a full machine shop behind the grav deck for nothing, OK? And once something's been made, I won't have to make it again for the same situation. Jorge proved rather handy back there, I knew I kept him around for a reason. We swapped out all her foodstuffs for the brand new kit I had, and restocked the toilet paper, just in case.

The day of the escape came. The ship was very quiet. We all knew what would happen, and no one wanted to talk about it much. Jorge took watch while Tracey and I got breakfast. Well, just coffee for me. I couldn't eat. Tracey either, for that matter. We must have sat at the table for over an hour with out saying anything or looking each other in the eyes. I guess we both were a bit teary.

When the silence was finally broken it was in a formal manner. Tracey straightened before speaking. I did as well. "Captain, I wish to thank you for the opportunity to serve on your ship. It was an honor and a privilege, Sir." She bowed.

I returned the bow. "The Privilege was all mine, Ms. Chadwick-Robins-sama. It was an honor to have you as my First Officer." I bowed again, she returned it.

We sat in silence again fro a long time. Finally she broke down crying, and threw herself into my arms. I held her close, patting the back of her head, a gesture that seemed to come naturally to me.

We both had a good cry.

Yeah, I cried. Wanna make something of it, Mano?

When she finally spoke again she was all choked up and barely audible. "Daddy, I'm scared."

My reply was in the same tone as hers. "Me too, Baby. Me too."

"I finally find you after all these years, and I'm about to lose you again."

"You'll never lose me again, baby. I'll always be in your heart, when I'm not around Mars, anyway."

She looked up into my tear filled eyes. "I do get by there once in a while you know." I almost managed a smile. She did too. We sat there, her in my lap, for a while … my coffee got cold, but it was more than worth it.

 

* * *

 

"Briar Patch, Backasswards. You are free and clear to navigate."

"Backasswards, Briar Patch. Copy free and clear." Tracey flew, and Jorge ran radio. "We'll nudge a bit out of your lane and wait till you're well past to boost, as per flight plan."

"Roger that. You take care of my little girl now."

"Affirmative, Backasswards. WILCO."

"God bless, and God Speed, Joe."

"You too, Dad." I chuckled, he did too.

I watched them maneuver out of my line of sight, then watched on the low power radar as they lined up for launch. It's not easy doing this while you're moving, planning a launch that is. Normally you're as stationary as things get in space. Actually I can't think of one dammed thing that doesn't move to one degree or another. But the basic idea was to aim for where Mars was gonna be when you and it finally get there. Hopefully at the same time.

"You fly him right, Tracey."

"WILCO, Backasswards."

"I'll see ya next Mars run. You'll prolly find me out at Kimi's."

"Looking forward to it." She paused, then spoke, all broken up, "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, Baby. I'll miss you." I wiped a tear from my eye. "Goodbye, for now."

"Good bye." We broke contact with that.

It came time for the burn and my screens lit up with static. I shut them down. And I sat there. Backasswards was more of a home then I had ever really known back dirtside. Now she felt emptier than ever. I had at least 4 months to get back to Terra. Jorge and Tracey had at least that long or longer. I couldn't really think of it just then. My head hurt from all the crying.

I went back to my "normal" routine for solo flight. It kept me busy, but didn't help much. I could smell her perfume. I could smell the lingering scent of her hair after a good washing. I could hear her giggling at my jokes. I could hear Jorge raucous baritone rumbling up from the decks.

After a couple days I wrote and encrypted a letter for CareGivers. I'd had codes for just that, which I wasn't supposed to use for any reason short of the reason I was using them today. Or something like it. I tucked it into a "routine" message for CGC Yatori Station. I also beamed a copy of it back at New Atlanta, Mars. Either way, CareGivers would know Tracey was on her way back and why.

Then I settled in for the long lonesome road back to Earth.

 

 

Chapter 6

One of the things I did on that long lonesome trip back to Terra was change all the log entries to match with the bogus names I had come up with. I did not want someone getting on Jorge or Tracey after I had got back to Port Shepard and was given the third degree from by ISP.

I also logged into CGC-net to see if I could get a preloaded run back out to Mars.

Much to my surprise I got a "Load Contract information on hold temporarily" from the site. Well, I just figured that with all the P.W.A. crap going on there was something gumming up the works. I put an inquiry in on it and waited till I got back into orbit to worry about it.

I hate to interrupt this, but it is time for me to take my medications, I'll get back to this after my afternoon nap I guess. The nurse is quite insistent on that.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, August, 12^th, 2105

"Port Shepard Control, this is Independent Spacers Guild freight hauler Backasswards coming into parking orbit. Requesting harbor pilot beacon for docking, please."

"Backasswards, Port Shepard Control. Vector 4.11, angels 2, freq 11827 for docking port 36 alpha. Confirm."

"Confirmed, Port Shepard Control." I maneuvered towards the dock.

"Welcome Home, Backasswards." Control replied.

"Yeah. Home." I said as I plugged into the dock and locked in. Then I sighed, and tossed the mike up on the dash. As I turned to walk off the bridge, a very irritated voice came over the squawk box.

"ISP calling Backasswards, acknowledge!"

I groaned. I'd known this was going to happen, and now it was time to face the firing squad. I turned and picked the mike back up. "ISP, this is the Backasswards. Transmission acknowledged, go ahead."

"Backasswards, you are ordered to heave to and prepare to be boarded!"

"Uh, ISP, I'm already plugged into docking port 36 Alpha, so I am unable to comply at this time. I suggest you dock beside me and walk over."

"Backasswards, you are suspected of being in violation of the Protection of Women Act." I grunted.

"ISP, I'd like to report a high jacking and kidnapping. The female personnel you are looking for was taken from my ship by force shortly after I left the Wango-Tango. Please send investigators at once."

"I demand that you … Um… Say again Backasswards?"

I chuckled to myself while shaking my head before keying up the mike again. "The female crew member I hired at extreme expense when last I was at Terra was kidnapped, ISP. Please send investigators to airlock 36 alpha."

"Um… Copy Backasswards. Investigators are enroute. Please wait by the lock for them so they can investigate the crime scene."

"WILCO, ISP."

I waited about an hour for the investigations team to show up. When they did the ISP investigators went over the entire ship with a fine toothed comb, read every piece of paper they could find … which just goes to say I didn't let them find anything I didn't want them to.

They went over my logs, my consumables report, my fuel expenditures, Waste Log. I got the whole nine meters checked out while they were there.

And the sons of pera's drank the last of my coffee too.

Tracey had left a few personal items around and I had moved them into my bunk to make it look as if something were happening between myself and the "Female crewmember" just before I arrived back at Terra. I had also cleaned up Joe's room so it looked unused, so as to better sell the story I had cooked up.

The story was similar to the Merlin's Prank incident. Just after leaving the Wango Tango I received a distress call. Space junk had punctured the water and air tanks on an Yvonne class runabout and had vented most of the atmo. The pilot had managed to weld the tanks closed again, but he didn't have anything to refill them with, nor did he have enough for the long trip back to Terra.

I called over and had him plug into my airlock where the service connections are. We spent a day manufacturing adapters to hook the two systems together, (I showed ISP the connectors Joe and I had made for refilling the Briar Patch), so I could top him off.

He spent a day with us just to alleviate the loneliness. He got to know my babe. Then late one night he attacked her while she was on watch, bound and gagged her, dragged her into his ship. Snuck into my room and got a few changes of her clothing and got out while I was sleeping.

I told them that the thing that woke me up was the ship disconnecting. And the reason I didn't go after them, was the cargo. Having nearly a million tons of iron ore heading towards Terra without control, was not something I was going to be held responsible for.

My duty to a couple Billion people on Terra as compared to one person kidnapped from my ship.

I'm not sure they bought it, but they had no proof that I was outright lying, which I was of course.

I logged the departure of the Chienne Dans La Chaleur in my logbook. I also complained a lot that 'Douglas MacNamera' kidnapped my female crewmember. I kinda failed to mention the proper names for the ship, the guy, and the chick that I had named 'Marilyn West'.

But what they didn't need to know, and that the ISP probably wouldn't notice was the names were nom de plumes, let alone actors from the early 20^th century.

 

* * *

 

I'd already had a long day fucking around with the ISP investigations people, so I did what I had to do without bothering to go planet side. I ordered provisions, consumables, toilet paper (two-ply this time), and an additional set of bed linens for the spare rooms, that I had been putting off.

I also had maintenance come out to refill the cold-gas for my maneuvering thrusters. Last thing I did was to make sure I put in a double order of coffee, freeze-dried, vacuum-sealed, Columbian in pouches.

Once all that was done I decided to stop in and see Percival Steinberg so I could deliver his paperwork in person.

"Greetings Captain Maxwell, I trust you had a safe flight?" He still did not offer his hand in greeting. I guess some things do not change.

"Heading out to the refinery got a little interesting, but everyone was ok." I answered

"I trust there were no problems on the flight out then, Captain Maxwell?" He asked.

"I had a little trouble finding personnel in a locked bunk room that I was completely unaware of." I frowned at him.

"Yes." He nodded "My apologies for that. It is a security precaution my company prefers during the transfer of large quantities of investor's money. I hope it did not cause too many problems for you."

"Investment capital aside, Mr. Steinberg, I would prefer if next time you would not lock the room. The reason is if something were to happen; the hull gets punchered by a meteorite, life support fails, or any number of unforeseen possibilities. I would prefer Jerry was able to get out, or more importantly, that I was able to get in without having to cut the door out of its frame."

He nodded again. "I completely understand Captain Maxwell." He took an envelope from his desk. "I have here a letter from the CareGivers Company. It is a letter of recommendation for further business transactions. They request a certain percentage of our business with them to go thru you and your ship after the excellent service given upon this last transfer you performed for us."

That took me a little by surprise, and I guess it showed on my face because for the first time without Tracey's direct intervention, I saw him smile.

"Yes, Captain Maxwell. Mrs. Yatori was suitable impressed with your quality of service that she personally quote 'suggested' end quote you for further transactions. While I would normally immediately follow this up with another transfer, I have yet to have the next one authorized from my Board of Directors."

I decided to sit down about then.

"The initial payment was made to your account as per the request of your First Officer, however she did not specify how the final payment was to be made. Would you prefer direct deposit, as with the initial payment, check, or currency, Captain Maxwell."

That snapped me out of my reverie. "Um, another direct deposit would be acceptable, Mr. Steinberg. I would not wish to be wandering around the station with that much gold on me."

He smiled and made a note on some paperwork, then entered more data into his computer. "Done, Captain Maxwell. The transfer of funds should be complete in the next few minutes. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

He stood and I stood as well, extending my hand. He hesitated only a second before he took it and gave one firm shake before letting go.

"The pleasure was mine, Mr. Steinberg. I look forward to working with you in the future." He smiled again.

"By the way, where is your First Officer, Captain Maxwell?" I swallowed.

"She was required to return to Mars before we could return to Terra, Mr. Steinberg. Unforeseen circumstances. I am not aware of all the details as of yet."

He smiled wryly and nodded. "The Protection of Women Act, no doubt." Then he frowned. "My personal political views hold that to be genocidal in its scope and tyrannical in nature."

He gave me a sly look over his glasses. "That is one of the reasons my Company is up to its collective eyeballs in backing the Independent Spacers Movement, you see."

We shared a sly smile for a moment then I decided I had a few other things to handle that day.

"I must see to a few more items today, Mr. Steinberg. Mayhaps when next I return we could have a cup of coffee and discus our political views." He nodded.

"Another time, Captain Maxwell." As I turned for the door I snapped my fingers and turned back toward him.

"Oh, before I forget… Your brother asked me to convey his best regards to you, Mr. Steinberg." He smiled and sat down. His face had a glow about it I had not seen before.

"Thank you. Please deliver the same to him when next you have occasion to speak to him." I smiled, waved, and walked out the door heading back to my ship.

 

* * *

 

I normally don't use the locks on the airlock, but something in the back of my mind had suggested it to me before leaving that day. I had also turned the silent alarm system on before I closed up. I am glad I did. I was not quite halfway back to the Backasswards when my keyfob started vibrating, letting me know the alarm had been triggered.

I stopped at a communications booth on the way back and dialed the Emergency Services number to report the attempted break in. "Airlock 36 alpha, remote airlock unauthorized entry attempt alarm, request Security investigate Stat!"

"Acknowledged, airlock 36 Alpha. Security personnel enroute. May I have your name for the records please Caller?"

"Maxwell, Casey. Captain of the Backasswards."

"Thank you Captain Maxwell. Security personnel ETA 3 minutes, Mark."

I hung up the vid-phone and ran for my ship. It would also take me about 3 minutes to get there. A lot of things could happen in three minutes.

As I ran I checked the pistol under my arm. I had loaded it with buckshot before I left the ship. Then I returned it to its holster so I could shove a few people out of my way. I normally don't do that, but I hope you understand that I was in a little bit of a hurry.

I got to the airlock first, with security hot on my heels as they say. They secured the area and double-checked my identification. They also checked for finger prints on the locking mechanism. There were, of course, no prints at all. Not even mine from where I had locked it.

They gave me a bit of a hassle over the pistol, but the sergeant that seemed to be in charge on scene decided that my fears were well founded since some one had in fact tried to break into my ship.

"You just leave that thing in your ship next time you're here."

"Of course, Officer.". I had no intention of doing so, and he knew it too. But it had to be said for the record.

There were signs of tampering, but no one actually got through. I had two sets of codes for the alarm. The long drawn out code, which was a 48 digit part number that I won't tell you, and my emergency 'have to get in quick' code. I'm not saying anything about that one either, not at all.

After the initial investigation was complete and security had left I opened the airlock, climbed in, and redogged the hatch. Security was going to review the video from the security cameras that always cover ship docking ports and airlocks.

I didn't expect them to find anything. I found out about a week later that I was right. Station security sent me a text follow up message explaining that they were sorry they were unable to help me; the signal feed for that camera was interrupted 4 minutes before I called, and was not restored again for 24 hours till a technician could find the fault. Some one had cut the wire.

After getting back in my ship I went to read my mail. I am glad I did.

I had an encrypted message, CGC Priority One. Load info to follow. Flight plan: Bobtail to set coordinates, in-flight correction on preset date at preset time. No further details. CGC personnel will inform you of particulars as needed. Message ends.

That was bloody odd. Well, it was a Priority One message, so I went.

Right time, right coords, right channel, and I got another message with my in-flight course correction. I'd had to log my orbit flight plan as far as I knew it with Port Shepard. The deviation would get me in trouble if anybody bothered to notice. I also remembered the coordinates that I was traveling to.

It was the second, and as it turns out, the last time I was at Yatori Station. I plugged into the dock number I was given, and was intrigued to see four fuel pods standing by. Heck, I normally only use two, and only use four for very heavy loads or when I am returning to Earth from the refineries with an ingot load.

I climbed out of the airlock and beheld a most exquisite beauty in a formal Geisha outfit. I bowed deeply, and she returned the bow.

"Greetings Captain Maxwell, welcome back to Yatori Station."

"It is my pleasure to return here."

"Captain Maxwell, I have a very important run for you to make. I was assured that you were the right man for the job."

I smiled, "Anything nice said about me, Ma'am, is probably a lie But I am the right man for the job, whatever it may be."

"Very well. I have an emergency load to be delivered to Mars as soon as possible. The load is light, but time critical. You are you use all possible haste in its delivery."

I thought about this for a moment and rubbed my chin. "With all of the repairs on my ship recently I should have no trouble maintaining a 30g acceleration for as long as my fuel reserves hold out."

She nodded. "Here are all the details you will require, including payment arrangements and passenger list." She handed me a folder she had been holding onto.

"Passengers, eh? How about the cargo?"

"The passengers are the cargo, Captain Maxwell." I looked up. Seven passengers, all fully qualified Spacers. It was to be a max thrust burn to Mars all for seven people. Bobtailing. 30gee Boost, Bobtailing.

My jaw dropped. I looked at the loadmaster. "You're kidding, right?"

She shook her head. "I am very serious, Captain Maxwell."

"Double pay, better than that, really. All for seven people?"

She nodded, her dark hair remained perfect. "These are very special people Captain Maxwell. They are needed on Mars as soon as humanly possible. I was assured that your vessel was capable of this journey, or I would not have brought you here at this late hour."

I waved a hand in dismissal of her concern. "It's ok, I keep weird hours anyway."

She shook her head. "Local time is not what I was referring to. You are aware of the Protection of Women Act are you not?"

I nodded. "Yes I am. That's the reason Tracey had to return to Mars with Jorge Waco instead of continuing to fly with me. I'm a little put out by that," I said with a bit of a frown.

"Do you realize what the PWA will do to my company if allowed to proceed unopposed? What it is intended to do to the Spacers? What it would do to humankind? These individuals must get to Mars before it is too late for them to get to Mars."

I looked her right in her bright eyes, then nodded once.

"Thank you Captain Maxwell. I will inform the passengers to get ready for departure." She appeared much relieved.

"My pleasure, Momma-chan. Such is the contract I have with the company, and I could do no less than this for the people who reunited me with my daughter."

She smiled. "Yes, I was a little worried about how you would take it when I agreed to allow her on your ship. We normally do not delve so deeply into personal situations."

Her eyes sparkled, and once again my jaw dropped. This was no simple loadmaster.

I bowed deeply and spoke with awe. "Mrs. Yatori-sama, please forgive my rudeness. I was unaware of who you were." She placed a hand on my shoulder.

"For the service to my company, and for all of humankind, you have no need to apologize, Captain Maxwell. Get these people to Mars before it is too late, that will be enough."

I smirked. "Oh, this is gonna be the most relaxing flight I have ever made ..."

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, August, 13^th, 2105

There were seven names on the list. First initial, and last name. Nothing more. As they came through the compartment towards the airlock I gave them the once over and knew. I'd thought I had known before, but seeing was believing. First off, either they'd painted the suits, or they'd had them ordered beforehand. They were not pink, at least not any more.

They, meaning the people inside the suits, didn't move like men. Trust me. I can tell. Guys hips don't sway like that even with 50 kilos of EVA suit on them. They had their sun shields mostly down so you couldn't see their faces. Just in case. I gave them the 30-second entry speech and told them to take whichever rooms they wanted, but the senior would have to alternate with me for my bunk. One stuck out it's … I mean, her hand, and I shook it. The hand in the glove was either rather small for a man's or it was female. They were Spacers and traveled light. Most only had to make one trip, a couple needed two trips to get all their stuff in.

I filed a flight plan with Port Shepard, as required yet again, once we were all loaded and strapped in. For the sake of appearances, they kept their suits on with visors down. Technicality, but it could be argued that "I didn't know them was women!" It wouldn't fly really well back down that gravity well, but it's what I had to work with.

I'd expected ISP to have a problem, and they did. About too late to do anything about it … Again. I'd found out that the Heinlein had boosted right out from underneath their noses a while before and the anso's were still burned by it. Well, I had every intention to do it to them as well.

The figure riding right seat removed her helmet and secured it, and gave me a wink. Like I hadn't had enough shocks today, add in meeting and having on my ship a Living Legend. About oldest living and still active female NASA astronaut. When ISP called for a launch halt order she took the mike from me.

"This is the ISP calling the Backasswards. Stand down from launch and prepare to be boarded."

"ISP, this is Backasswards. Piss off you yokels, you managed to ground me once, and I ain't about to let ya do it to me a second time."

"Backasswards, how dare you! Identify yourself!"

"As if you can't tell already, I'll hint ya. I'm Rebecca St. Charles, and if you ain't read your history already, I ain't gonna let you catch me sleeping now."

A different voice came on the box. "Rebecca St. Charles? The Rebecca St. Charles? Bek is that really you out there?"

"You got me, honey, but I ain't waiting for the kiss."

"Bek! It's Jimmy Henderson! Heya gal, whatcha doing out there?"

"Little Jimmy? Well I'll be darned. Ain't spoke atcha in a coon's age. They still got you making milk runs up to Trippe?"

"Naw, they kicked me upstairs a couple years ago. I hardly get outta orbit anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that, kid. Well, I'd love ta stick 'round and chat, but ISP's trying to delay my flight. I gotta hot date and I ain't gonna be late."

"You stealing that thing, Bek?"

"Yep, this ol' rust bucket and me go good together. I figure if I gotta go Pirate to get back in space that's what it'll take, kid."

"That ol' space dog still livin,' or'd you space him? I'd miss Casey if you kicked him out. He owes me a Fiver."

"Naw, I didn't space him, he's kinda cute in his own way. I'll give him the fiver once we get over to Red's. I'll probably untie him by then, too."

I could hear the wink in her voice, and the chuckle on the box. "Gotcha Bek. Traffic's clear for launch, since you ain't gonna wait for the ISP to put the kabosh on it. Listen, I'm not OKing you or anything, but I can't stop you with anything but words, and you ain't never listened to nobody you didn't want to, anyhow. So, God Speed and God Bless, Bek. You be good, girl."

"If I can't be good, I'll be good at it. You be good, too, Jimmy. Tell them assholes back at NASA I told them to kiss it!" And thirty gravities kicked us in the anso.

 

* * *

 

Dear Diary, August, 20^th, 2105

Quick run down, OK. One male, Me. The most notorious female NASA pilot of all time, 6 other Caregivers, and 5 and a half months to get to Mars. After boost finished, we were cooking along pretty dammed fast. Not much woulda caught up with us. But, I still insisted on doing something special for the first real sit down dinner.

Yep. Steaks. Not frozen, they were so fresh they were still warm. And all the sides I could have asked for. someone, I won't say who, snuck a bottle of red wine up for a dinner toast. I almost forgot it in my room. Anyhow, I got through the intros and proposed a toast to the galley full of women.

"Ladies, Welcome to the Babe Runner!"

  

  

  

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