Conflict Of Honors by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Read Free Book Online

Gordy . . . ."

Shipyear 65
Tripday 131
First Shift
1.30 Hours

    Former cargo master Priscilla Mendoza leaned back in her chair, sipping at a mug of real coffee, the remains of an extremely edible meal on the table before her.

    The tests had been lengthy—and rather odd. Among the standardized examinations had been random lists of words to define; questions regarding her personal tastes in books, music, sports, and art; and surveys soliciting her opinion on a surprising range of topics.

    Priscilla sighed and sipped her coffee appreciatively. She was tired, her thoughts moving in hazy slow motion. Soon it would be time to look again at the map she had been given and puzzle out the route to her cabin. But having come to rest at last, with no immediate task before her, she was content to simply sit and sip, letting her eyes randomly scan the vast, nearly empty dining ball. She had gathered from the cook on duty that First Hour was not the usual time for people to be fed. He had laughed her apology aside and heaped a plate high, setting it on a tray with a steaming white mug.

    "Start on that," he had told her, grinning broadly. "If you're still hungry when you're done, come on back and say so."

    "Thank you," Priscilla said, blinking in confusion at the tray. It seemed to hold more food than she had seen at one time in months. The man laughed again and returned to his duties.

    Her eyes were drooping closed. Odd, she thought drowsily, that I should feel so comfortable.

    She sat up straight and drank the last of her coffee in a snap. After all, tomorrow's interview with the captain could end with her back on Jankalim, no better off—with the exception of a few good meals—than she had been this afternoon. So much depended on the tests, and on the captain. Did he believe her?

    Why should he? she asked herself fiercely. She sighed and looked up.

    A midsized Terran was standing across from her, coffee mug in hand, an expression of admiration on his round face.

    Priscilla felt her stomach sink. Here we go again, she thought.

    "Hi," the man said easily enough. "You must be the only person onboard who hasn't had a message to send this trip."

    "That's because I'm not onboard," Priscilla told him, then grinned and shook her head. "No, that doesn't make sense. I mean that I'm only visiting . . . ."

    "Yeah?" he said interestedly, and extended a soft-palmed hand. "Rusty Morgenstern, radio tech. Pleased to meet you, Ms.—"

    "Mendoza." She took the hand and shook lightly; she was agreeably surprised when he did not try to prolong the contact. "Priscilla Mendoza. Sit down?"

    "Thanks." He slouched down and put his elbows on the table, fingers curled loosely about the mug. "Who're you visiting, if that's not too nosy? And how come they left you to eat by yourself?"

    "I'm not explaining things too well. What I'm doing is applying for a job. I took some tests earlier, and I'm to see the captain at Seventh Hour to find out how I did." She sighed. "The whole thing seems pointless, though. Mr. Saunderson—the agent on Jankalim—said the ship's fully staffed."

    "Well, that's true." He paused to swallow coffee. "What's your line?"

    "I was cargo master on my last ship."

    Rusty shook his head. "Got a hell of a cargo master—old Ken Rik. Forty years older'n Satan and twice as slippery. Don't play cards with him." He drank more coffee. "But that doesn't mean much. If the cap'n figures you'll work out, there's bound to be something for you to do."

    Priscilla blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

    "Well, it's like—" He pointed a finger at her. "Cabin boy. You met Gordy?"

    She grinned. "He met me when I came on."

    "Nice kid. Point is, we've had a couple different cabin boys. One was backup astrogator. 'Nother spent more time helping Ken Rik figure distributions than she did fetchin' wine. Last guy—seemed like all he did was play chess with the cap'n. Gordy—he's teaching the cap'n—aah, what is it? Restructured Gaelic? Some