Unification Day: the Evening Garden Party

When one finds ones self in shimmering placid waters of warmth and peace... be wary of possible sharks. Those were my thoughts preparing for the Unification Day gala that I was about to attend... only attending to make an inconspicuous meeting with the upper-crust trade contact of my cousin Misha’s. 

I have occasionally mentioned that I try to keep balance in life. I suspect the influences of a well bred, socially sophisticated mother and a no non-sense, practical Scots fisherman father (although the Earth That Was is long gone from us, many ethnicities in the Verse still define their families and demeanor by Old Earth heritage... Scots being some of the most intransigent). In balance... social history, manners and culture do not bring home the fish and calloused handed, dour, anti-social behavior does not get the best price for said fish... One must be balanced dealing in the Verse.

Thus I waxed up my moustache... curling it just so; falsely smiled in the mirror to check for anything twixt the teeth.  Meaning to be prepared for any possible U-Day scuffle, I retrieved two pair of carbo-lite knuckles and slipped them into the slit pockets of my dress kilt; in a fist fight these were a boon. As a Licensed Merchantman I was permitted the donning of “Captain’s” peaked cap. The cap, along with the sharply pleated New Melbourne Tartan, was as fancy, and the carbo-lite knuckles as formidable, as I could pull together aboard Gypsy, under the circumstances.

* * *

The Xin Caodi Gardens are beautiful at any time, resplendent in the constant half-light of star shine and glow from Djinn’s bane. Lanterns of Old Earth design surround the temple grounds.
The stunning incongruity of Alliance and Independent Flags flying to either side of the entrance, took me aback. There are moons and worlds that have outlawed the display of the Independent colors... moons where you might be beat to an inch of your life for showing partisanship one way or the other, depending on your tilt. This was unprecedented as far as I could tell... it was either a brilliant political move on someone’s part  ...or a stupendous blunder…The night was young.

For one tense moment, before being received into the grounds proper, all guests were scanned by the Security detail... there was no pat down, so my Knucks were undetected... I was announced as Captain Stewart Macpherson of the Gypsy Trader (as if Gypsy were a Cruise Liner ...and you know how I feel about being called a “Captain”) I ascended the steps with as much decorum as I could muster.

Radiant in a formal kimono of shimmering purple was the Administrator of Xin Caodi City...personally greeting the guests on arrival. I assessed this woman to be leaning far toward Brilliantly Political rather than Stupendously Blunder-headed; Administrator Yazmin Soong was not someone to be taking lightly... but the Purple of the Administrator’s silken attire left no doubt of her political leanings.

The Gardens were overflowing with color reflected by the glow of  lantern lights... aromas of rich delicacies wafted against my senses (2 weeks in the Black gives the appetite an edge)... so much silk, so many uniforms, so much shine, and the people of the Companions Guild shimmered like Fairytale princesses... so many introductions and polite banter, and surprisingly...  so many Brown coats.

* * *

As I was taking this all in (probably slack-jawed) an amazingly bright and cheerfully refined voice of greeting caused me to turn...

As balanced as I try to be... as taciturn as I endeavor to maintain… (usually I am very good at taciturn) ...I was smitten in an instant. A woman, without any doubt of the Guild, somehow managed to make fine Jade-silk and a military cut browncoat seem the height of fashion. The 静寂 set of her shimmering red hair coifed perfectly imperfect, glowing complexion and eyes as green and intense as the sea... 哦，我的上帝 oh my gawd.

Gorammit!  I Hate Being Smitten... I hate the feeling of boyish uncertainty... the blasted sense of inadequacy that comes of admiring a beauty you can never have a hope to know, or to hold... I did not hear her name, I was that mesmerized. I barely heard her words of greeting. I have no recall of what I said... I hope it was mechanically rote politeness... I can only hope. I remember wandering off in the direction of the food...

This unsettled me. Companions... oh, they know, oooh yes they must know when they have made their mark. I searched inside & within for my missing taciturn, then resorted to some second hand aloof... this ruined my appetite, I wanted a whiskey immediately, but instead went through the motions of procuring some of the delectable food offered, picked at it... still wondering what was wrong with me, stealing a glance in the direction of... Ms. Whatzername with the sea green eyes. 

Duty to business at hand, if you can call it that, would have to save me from abject foolishness: I was here to make a business contact... nothing more...  Stay Absolutely Focused...   Business first, Whiskey second... Yes...

“Gorramit she looked at me again!”

Gawd what a beauty... her charm and grace amongst the crowd... her demurity... (Alright, I made up the last word) ...and what was she “Saying” so boldly-quietly by wearing Core-World silk with the crisp Independent style Browncoat? “I think she caught you watching her” and “you don’t even know her name you idiot”…gawd, I Hate Being Smitten! 

When I began to believe there was no hope for me... I was gratefully yanked back to reality by the greeting of a bald-pated, sharp-featured, Core-styled aristocrat, attempting introduction. “Captain Stewart Macpherson I presume! My name is Henry Petras”

Acknowledgments... proper introduction, confirmation of connection to my cousin Misha... it all came quickly and easily. On the plus side... my state of discombobulation over meeting that Companion, served to make me appear hard-headed and disinterested to this Henry Petras; this is a good stance to take when you are a seller... looking Not Desperate to Sell is a difficult thing to fake. Slipping into business mode had leveled me... I was back in balance if not outright control.

* * *

After Petras and I had slipped away for our discussion and made arraignments, I was able to ease my mind, and lubricate my brainpan with some 12-year-old Harvestian Single-Malt. I may have made myself misunderstood at one point and had to attempt to smooth things with one Captain Vilalura.

Browncoats can get their feathers ruffed very easily on U-Day, even by well meaning non-combatants like myself. Pappy, my brother, and I had taken risks to help pass food aid to the Independent side during the conflict; I say this not to gain your approbation or derision... only make you aware that there were many who eventually understood the Independent view. We supported in what ways we could, but New Melbourne was a hard and fast Alliance held world... propaganda and truth were a cloudy soup in those days.

I was deep in thoughts of this sort... stifling the desire to re-approach the Companion woman who had so gotten to me...“chalk it up to- too long in the Black on yer own Laddie” said the voice in my head

Thus ruminating on the dwindling whiskey in my glass, wondering if I should take a refill or make my way back to the Gypsy.

I looked over at the table next and saw Captain Lazarus of the Du Li, who looked as out of place as I felt. We struck up a conversation... liberally topping up our crystal tumblers with the good stuff, we commenced chewing on the meaning of U-Day, shared a few lighter memories of the war years without actually talking specifics. Then our talk slipped to mutual Skipper-speak, complaining of moorage fees and shady places to go and those to be avoided. Commiserating like a pair of fish out of their accustomed ocean, Lazarus and I parted on good terms.

During the conversation with Captain Lazarus (I use Captain respectfully here as the title is normally intend) I noticed more than a few eyes fall on the pair of us chattin’ away... One woman in Alliance cut uniform seemed to take special note. I was determined to put the ki-bash on any speculation of shady dealings, so I asked Ms. Uniform to dance. She made excuses about the height of her heels and I made excuses about the quantity of single-malt consumed... we took a few of turns around the floor... enough for me to find out she was the First officer of that monster, The Jokers Wild.

Rosa Santana was her name... and all excuses aside she danced well yet had the balance and tone of a panther under her svelte military tunic and skirt. I did not want to cross her, any more than I wanted Gypsy Trader to attract the attention of the Joker. I hoped that dancing with a Uniform would put any snoops off the scent of Gypsy Trader being anything but on the Square.

Dance and good liquor not withstanding it was nearing time to return to Gypsy...but before departing, I think the whiskey had fortified me to a degree of no longer caring what the upper-crust thought of “Skipper Macpherson”

With whiskey enabling bravado, I addressed "That-Beauty-I -Was-so-Bloody-Intrigued-With"...whose name I had failed to hear the first time...

“Dear Lady, (that’ll work) could I prevail upon you.... (I wanted to ask her to dance just one dance that I would remember for probably the rest of my life)... to properly introduce me to the "Mayor of Xin Caodi.”

I maintained some equilibrium through these niceties, formal introduction to Administrator Yazmin Soong... it never hurts to have important people hear your name under relatively pleasant circumstances.

Then as luck would have it… somehow, some way, in a turn of laughing, lilting conversation... the Companion whom my thoughts and eyes had been on all night, was addressed by Soong, using the Companion's full name: The amazingly Non-Companionesque handle of Imrhein Fargis!

Somehow... a name like Imrhein Fargis levels the mind and heart of the Smitten Man. I recovered enough of myself to be able to speak on more balanced terms... She was NOT Angelicus Lu Wei Gossamer-fluff or some such! Make no mistake… The woman is a beauty, she’s out of my league, she’s grace personified in silk and brown twill... but there was something matter of fact about a woman with the name of Imrhein Fargis. Someone you might even be able to deal with… had she hinted at the work I do with Gypsy-Trader? ... I was muddy-headed, given the better quality hooch and the evening I was having... Business?

...and before I left the party she gave me her Wave-code.

Cheese and crackers... “it was ‘just business’... right? “ ...but I may possibly see her again... uhhmm regarding… Business?

“ 你瞧，星星也亮 , 'how the stars shine'...Imrhein Fargis gave me her wave-code.”

Xin Caodi City: Arrival Delays and Jitters

Gypsy Trader was drifting like a feather (a 300 ton feather) toward the City of Xin Caodi. in high-orbit  above/around the great glowing mass of Djinn’s Bane.

The ship’s chronometer told me it was Unification Day... whether or not the Xin Caodi local time had me too late (or hopefully early) for the big celebration in the city gardens I had no Idea.

Maneuverings through the shipping was about to become tense... A massive patrol vessel of some sort was in cue ahead of me... the squawk box told more of the story, but not much more; just enough to keep me nervous.

My first visual said it was an Alliance ship... yet somehow darker and more menacing if that is possible... what I could ascertain, with a light ping directed at her registry beacon; the “patrol” vessel was a privately owned ship... The Jokers Wild. Whoever could afford to hire a ship of that magnitude was no doubt someone to be avoided. Tiny vessels like Gypsy learn quickly to stay well clear of behemoths like The Jokers Wild for a great many reasons.

Waiting my turn, I sync’d the local chonometer. I perused my hand-scratched notes regarding the U-Day Party and my Xin Caodi contact. I was shaving it close... maybe had two hours to confirm with Customs, berth Gypsy-Trader, make myself presentable, toss on the good kilt, and find the city gardens. I rubbed the 3 days growth of beard nervously... it was taking forever for that big black and blue monster ahead of me to settle in, so the numerous smaller ships could find a place to cool our engines.

* * *

 Honestly, I think most Customs people find a tiny vessel like Gypsy more trouble than she is worth... I could feel the derision of the officer as he regarded the manifest of canned herring... indeed the top two layers of tins are indeed herring by the way, in case some one gets nosy... the other 5.995 tons comprised of the finest caviar to be found in the Verse.

Аристов Caviar. Mam’s side of the family, the Aristovs, harvest and can fish eggs (the rich creamy pale colored variety... not that black stuff). They command a high price for it... admittedly they push the value higher by holding a good quantity in reserve. 

Back when Grandfa Dimitri fronted me funds to refit Gypsy Trader, he had an inkling of how useful it would be to have a beat up little cargo vessel of little account, in the hands of one of his grand children... the profits from Gypsy’s first “Egg Run” to the Core made Grandfa almost forgive Mam for marrying my Pap.

“Egg Runs” are not that frequent, once maybe twice a year... Cousin Misha determined that his contacts Core-ward were becoming greedy and spoiled. Word in his High Class grapevine had it that Kalidasas aristocrats were making much of appearing at least as upper-crust as those in the Core: Now, if this contact proved reliable, I would possibly quadruple the “Egg Run” profit for Misha... and if that was the case... The Gypsy would earn for herself an astounding cut... if the contact is on the up and up... if the Customs folk don’t dig below the first two layers of delicious smoked herring.... if the channels of payment are legit.... and IF i make it to this Unification Day Party on time…   

Gorramit I need a shave.

"Herring"

As you have seen, (assuming you read previous to this point) when traversin' the Verse, not everything goes accordin' to plan.

I will keep a lovin' eye on the Navsys each time the course is laid. The ASNAV tech who made adjustments at Shinbone seemed competent, yet a little over self-assured in a quick and dirty sort of way; and he will not be the one driftin' if I close my eyes for a kip only to find I am in Reaver space or cratering an uncharted moon.

Thus the Skipper of the Gypsy Trader did not really sleep well the first two days of the run. Getting weary I finally thumbed the auto-pilot on the third morning: Course for Xin Caodi was dead on the money after I triangulated once, twice, thrice… all with the same immaculate result.

* * *

I was awakened by a loud squawk from the cortex viewer… glancin' in the mirror I looked like a man who had slept in his clothes for 16 hours (which I was), I fumbled at the receiver to take audio only…

The face of cousin Misha fuzzed into view as I eased myself up to a standing position.

"Stewart! …are you there Pодич?" his voice crackled much less than you would expect; Gypsy was very near a Core Relay.

"I am here Cousin (his term for me had been more formal) what causes you to send a wave?" ...Misha was far too cheap to wave without good reason.

"I cannot see you Stewart!" 

"No… and you will not see me, but I hear you just fine." …not letting on that I could see him in his usual high, stiff, snow-white and pretentious Core-style collar; silk Paisley cravat with jeweled stick-pin completed the effect. Misha never did dress like a fish farmer.

Misha sniffed after a pause, "Your family is worried about you… perhaps you have met with accident? We have not heard from you… is your shipment of herring secure?"

Good old predictable Misha… "The herring is happily secure in the hold Meesh… (he hates me to call him Meesh) …Gypsy was delayed, We're back on course…should be in Xin Caodi in 72 hours give or take."

Misha paused again, you could see him counting in his head...good thing his wife did the company books.

"A-Ha!, Perfect then родич Macpherson... you will be just in time to attend the Unification Day celebration held by the leading lights of XinCaodi City…By special invitation… I pulled strings…. Oh cousin how I envy you!" Misha simpered as only he can. 

* * *

I was cringing by the time Misha had finished relaying the information as to where and when I was to attend the "Gala Event". This apparently was where I was to meet my contact… the person interested in the Family Herring.

I was going to have to lay out my best bib and tucker for a hoity-toity party celebrating something  that over half the Verse thought to be a gorram tragedy… Unification Day.

Missed Korolev Station… but reconnected with an annoying old friend.

Remember… I was talking in a previous log about the gamble you take with astrogation? Destination was supposed to be Xin Caodi in the Kalidasa System, but I was having a fine time just leaving the Red Sun vicinity. Heinlein System orbits elliptically around Red Sun… Silverhold behaves itself around Heinlein… I was aiming to increase the velocity on my soon to be vector for Xin Caodi… however...

Yeah… well musta been my sixth sense, or Gypsy Trader was whispering to me; the Nav-Sys had developed a deviation… so my attempted "sling-shot" using Silverhold's gravity-well held all the earmarks of total disaster… Into the center of a Brown Dwarf kind of disaster!

Using more of the fuel than I originally intended to save by sling-shotting, I diverted toward Paquin… not one of my favorite places truth be told. Took a chance, once in system…sending a wave or two and found an ASNAV techie…located on a small hardscrabble-moon called Shinbone of all places. 

The Port Authority such as it is on Shinbone consists of a single part-timer who rarely answers a wave unless someone blasts them with an "URGENT". 
When the so call Port Officer picked up my wave, the garbled voice was strangely familiar, then the visual-image cleared I was struck with the sight of Kendra-Tsu Bell glaring back at me. Kendra-Tzu is a sly old Independent and, an acquaintance leaning to the friendship side of the scale. And Kendra has always been an Independent in many more ways than that she wore the Browncoat.

At first I thought I was in luck, to run into an old friend, on a tiny moon the size of a grapefruit.

However... Kendra-Tsu started gettin' all officious sounding like she was in charge of Eavesdown Docks with her giving me a load of 粪  about "Customs inspections, and Quarentine, and Transient Dock Fees… before I had even gotten clearance to land!

Maybe the look on my face did it, Kendra could hold back no longer, she burst out laughing long and loud and merry... like I had not heard her do in way too long. The Port Officer was playfully yanking at my last frayed nerve.

Speaking of transient… the timing could not have been better: That ASNAV Tech, was less than 48 hours from leaving Shinbone. He took less than 40 minutes to recalibrate the Nav-sys deviation. This gave Kendra and me a chance to catch up on old times, and hopes, and losses… so maybe the "Compass" wheeled in the right direction after all.

…but that woman's way of arguing a point always wound up giving me a headache… no wait, it is her choice of potable that does that.

Guessin' Kendra-Tzu Bell be-a-doin' well ...where she's settled… We're gonna keep in touch… can't have too many friends in the Verse… even annoying ones.

* * *

Damn or Hally-loo-ya... looks like Gypsy will arrive at Xin Caodi on, or the day before, Unification Day… maybe there is a way to turn that tid-bit to an advantage… fingers crossed.

Catching Up On New Melbourne

Brother Angus and I have had our differences… we both love our ships. One thing that stands out to me, is that while I never lost the feel for sailing, Angus will never set foot on a spacer that is actually headed into the Black.

Angus seems to respect Gypsy Trader for what she is and what she'll do… "Doesn't hurt to have an export connection in the family."



While in the world, Angus challenged me, to observe whether or no I still had my sea legs. We took a run down the coast to break in a new mainsail before the yellow-fin season starts next month. Twas good to gam awhile… but we are definitely of different worlds now. 

Funny how New Melboune even with and it's vasty oceans, seas, and islands, feels too small to me now.

I've a meet up with some of Mam's side of the family up coast (The sturgeon egg side of the clan). They are Fish Farmers… not deep water like Angus and Pap. We have business to do… then tis back to the Black for me and Gypsy.

Stew's Observations on Astrogation and other forms of Gambling

There are many folk in the Verse, who have never (and never will) set foot in a space ship. Teeming billions scattered all across the Worlds, Moons and Cities of the Verse.
To these folks the stars are what they call "The night sky".
Sailors like my Pap on New Melbourne navigate oceans by these pinpoints because they hold reasonably steady when a ship is away from land.

There is a reason out here is called the "Black";  …it is not the Night Sky to Astrogators and ship's crews; it is our Ocean. Everytime I work out the plots for a "Straight Shot Milk Run" it still feels like rolling a pair of 360 sided dice… the result being where you are headed. Which is not true, I know in my head. Nav-satellites on top of multiple-redundancies in the Nav-sys, trims the odds way in your favor. But a Gorram degree is life or death sometimes. Therefore the first hour or so after the plot is in and the ship is underway… I cannot help but take fixes on Nav-bouys to check-check and check the course.

In some strange way the Black is where all things began for every bug of us... I think…  maybe… 
...so the happy few of us who do choose the Black as our infinite Ocean… we chose to return Home every time we aim our noses at those starry pin-pricks.

Winesap Rendevous

Sometimes the best way around a situation is through it… sometimes the best way around… is a sneaky circuitous route WAY around it… sometimes it needs be one part THIS and two parts THAT.

Long story short… Gypsy cleared the back landing area with fifteen minutes to spare (much to the chagrin of the Docking Officer who was cocked and primed to collect fees the second Gypsy was berthed overtime).

Gypsy had received clearance to depart Cornacopia Docks -thus she gently soared upward…coincidentally on a trajectory that took her directly over the thriving metropolis of Winesap. Winesap being the location of the bearing plant, expecting delivery of the Dragon's Egg crystals. 
Ten minutes later,  I reported to Port Authority  a "strange noise and loss of power"  P.A. didn't need to know the strange noise was from a recording of an up and and coming Harvestian street musician, nor that the loss of power was from my manually decelerating for landing as near to Winesap as possible…
"Port Authority! Gypsy Trader requesting permission for emergency landing… uhhhhhh at or near Winesap aerodrome? …do I have clearance?"
Note: When pulling this little stunt I reccommend assuring Port Authority that you are willing to heroically limp your crippled ship back in their direction… they seemed almost enthusiastic to let me set down anyplace safe.

The aerodrome was actually an ideal and very quite place to rendevous with the Plant Owner and his men; His factory hauler rolled out to meet Gypsy under the pretense of bringing a new engine part. In truth, two skids of fine, raw, AAA bearing grade crystal was passed to the new owner at deep discount (my cost plus 135% -would'a been cheap at twice that price.) The aerodrome was not a hugely busy place. The local authorities payed little or no attention to  Gypsy after she failed to burst into flame on landing. So before taking leave of lovely and bucolic Winesap… I rode the quad into town and had a late farm style breakfast. It had been a good morning... and making coin always gives me an appetite.

Gypsy Trader Log Entry

Load of alloy from Caliban to Harvest; brief layover on Dragon's Egg* to pick up a salvaged reclamation filter.
Shaving 6 days off a 12 day run: Astrogation went favorable this time, so no need for a hard burn; keeping coin in the fuel tank.

Have been looking forward to this run, with the promise of a few better than average meals this trip; The alloys are all but sold to a contact on Harvest... better quality foodstuffs will go for a good price on Caliban or D.E.

[*Personal Log tango encrypt: Did a minor favor for Kepten Pandora, or rather, a friend of hers... there was no problem with pickup/delivery.

Given the circumstances back on Caliban, ...or maybe I just wanted to hear her voice... sent a wave to Kepten Pandora of Sputnik, mid way through my run to Harvest. Thought Pandy and her vessel would be well on their way to Wherever by now.  Sputnik however is landlocked by Caliban Port Control; that is never good, and what a hole to be stuck.

Am concerned there may have been a hitch in her recent plans. Wishing there was something Gypsy Trader could do to help, but I am pointed the wrong direction for that... hope it is enough that Kepten Pandora is tough and clever: End Personal Log]

Gypsy-T Cleared to enter Harvest atmo; 6 days 14 hours from Dragon's Egg. Not a bad run... the
alloy ingots were paid for and off loaded before the engines cooled.

Still have 2 tons of raw bearing crystal that I picked up on the Dragon’s Egg for a very good price... (and yes, the paperwork is in order). Gypsy may have another hop in world; (rumor has it there may be a small manufacturer or two on Harvest that will welcome the load.) There is some medium manufacturing work done here despite the Ag-business emphasis... machinery breaks ...the larger cities produce some replacement parts on the cheap. Hoping I can dodge the in-world trade licensing and sell direct to a buyer:  fingers crossed.

First things first: Button up Gypsy in a quiet berth on the backfield and go find a real meal.

 Second Day on Harvest: Gypsy is fueled and supplied but will have to start paying out berthing fees in 16 hours... and she still has 2 tons of bearing-crystal aboard taking up room which I really need to sell and get it off the ship. Following what leads I can.

Third Day on Harvest : [*Personal Log tango encrypt: 9 hours before berthing fees kick in... Buyer found... 3 hours from here by rented hauler... cannot fly Gypsy to location without raising eyebrows... (she’d be there in 30 minutes)... wait.... SHINY IDEA! End Personal Log]

Captain of the Gypsy Trader.

Twelve years ago, a purple vested, lavender cravated, Alliance tie tack-wearing, mid-level clerk pronounced my name from his bullet proof pidgin-hole. The tannoy crackled...  

"Captain Stewart A. Macpherson!"

I'd  caught the Stewish part…and the clan MacPherson part… the "A." is silent, as it is never used...  My dumbfoundedness came from the honorific of being referred to as a Captain.  Seems so strange how life will drag you where it wants to… sometimes best go somewhat willingly.
Back then, when I passed the licensing exams and was handed that mandarin-red ribbon sealed Masters document, I was as surprised as anyone. That day I went from being a citizen In the Verse and became a citizen Of the Verse. Technically I had been a Captain for years… but in the harbour towns and cities of New Melbourne the word Captain has a stuffy self-important connotation…  Fish boat Skippers don't go by "Captain"…truth is if some dockside 鳗粪 calls you "Captain" tis grounds for a proper donnybrook…  I'm tellin' ya because I've never gotten used to being so called, even in the Black. Fortunately Gypsy Trader has a crew of one and I rarely insult myself so… Also, tis easier navigating the Black than the seas of New Melbourne….proper Skippers work.  Not many know that. Not many give a good gorram either.
Anyway, now you know… just call me Skipper, or Skip, only one person gets to call me Skippy…and I prefers to just be… Stew.

 * * *

Back on New Melb, Pap runs a Fishboat to this day, as does my brother… they probably will to the bitter end of the rope. And before I won at a long (lucky?) night of cards... sailing for fish woulda been my lot as well… and some days I wish I were back on the deck of a trawler… but thats a rare day.
As regards Mam and Pap; Mam always was a beauty, the middle daughter of a sturgeon farm owner (old Granfa-Dimitri); She tried her best to spoil her boys while educatin' us in classics and histories. How many kids grow up with a taste for caviar before they are crawling? Pap didna go with all of Mam's family traditions... spoilin' his boys was not a thing he'd put up with past a certain age…so the caviar was discontinued before long.
Pap married well and socially upward. Mam did well by marrying a dour Scot who truly loved her. They were happy. We were happy for years… until Mam died of fever in the last year of the War. I was 17.
We knew the War was winding down. The Alliance had held New Melbourne and Harvest throughout. The real war never came to us but once, and I wont speak of that here... You can talk of Purple-belly and Brown coat… strategy and tactics… even how the Alliance always had better equipment than the Resistance; but I swear to you that if the Browncoats had been better able to feed themselves and deprive the Core-worlds of Harvest and New Melbourne's bounty, the War would have ended sooner and very differently. Pap simpathized with the Browncoats; Andrew and I had learned enough from Mam about the histories of empires, kings and queens, czars and czarinas to agree with Pap…  I just remember the faces of the men on the Browncoat Space Frieghters when we'd secretly rendevous at sea, to transfer cases of smoked fish and bales of dried kelp. It was the best we could do… Pap never made a kopec (according to Mam a kopec was a tiny coin on old Earth)...Pap did what he felt was right… we all did, but when Mam died, Pap nearly followed her with his heartbreak. I'm glad the war ended in any way it could… Pap was taking more risks every time he left the dock.

* * *

I was never the best Fishboat skipper in the family... never had that fishy sixth sense of where the schools would show up next like Pap and Brother Andrew. This made me restless in my core I'm guessin' and I headed down a bad path… well it looked bad to Pap. I told him over and over that I never drank when I played cards. That is why I have Gypsy Trader.
Gypsy was a project vessel… originally a Toad class light bulk. Toads are terrestrial but semi amphibious ya know. TOAD class vessels are fully submersible. Good for dodging storms on water worlds (and as smuggling vessels some say). Fact is… ton for ton, Gypsy Trader can make more coin on a run than any Mid-bulk in the sky… you just need to make more runs and not expect too much of her; She is what she is, no more no less. Gypsy is easy on fuel and upkeep, easy to handle, and I dont require much room for myself. Best of all no one but me thinks much of her, so we slip in and out of worlds with less bother.
I previously mentioned Grandfa Dimitri...he was a hard one. But in his way he cared about the Macpherson boys… Grandfa had heard about my dealings and came near to crackin' my skull for it. He fronted funds to upgrade the TOAD and transform it into my Gypsy. After I'd earned the Masters license from the All Mighty Alliance… Grandfa was astonished I was able to pay him back after three runs. He's gone now, but I carry on a tradition with cousin Misha on Mam's side of the clan… a family tradition involving excess amounts of high grade caviar, once or twice a year.  Core worlds cannot seem to get enough fish eggs...caviar just brings back memories for me, and with nostalgia comes melancholy. I'm better off in the Black munching protein packs.