Day 18. Message from home.
My brother had found a buyer for his half of our dock.
Signing Friday, he said. If you want to buy me out, get here before then.
I listened twice. There was no threat in his voice. That annoyed me more than a threat would have.
We had agreed that either of us could sell our share. I had gone off in my cargo ship and left him collecting docking fees, patching planks and waiting for something else. Now he wanted a boat of his own.
Friday was two days away. I wanted him to wait two more.
Iri, my only crew member, was watching the message light.
“Pay me at the next port,” she said. “As agreed. I leave there.”
She had a place on a ship that paid better. She wasn’t interested in my family dock.
I sent a reply asking him to wait. He answered that the boat he wanted was for sale now, and he wasn’t willing to lose it.
I could have taken the ordinary route home. It would have got me there after Friday. Instead I bought a route through Yen’s little port, where a shorter jump would save two days.
Our ship could jump only between paired beacons. It had to see both of them through its sensors. No far light meant no jump, however much I argued with the screen.
Day 19. Yen’s port.
We reached the port and found the far beacon moving.
That should have been impossible. It belonged on a fixed frame beyond the harbor. Instead it glowed among the feelers of a creature bigger than three cargo ships.
The creature had no hard shell, only slow fins and a pale body through which the light showed. It drifted as if it had the whole week free.
“It likes light,” Yen told us over the radio. “It gripped the beacon. My boat can’t fasten a tether near those fins.”
“Turn the beacon off.”
“I can dim it. That stops attracting it. Doesn’t open its feelers.”
I looked at our fuel gauge. We had enough for the jump and the run home, with a small reserve. I didn’t put that number beside the distance on the screen.
I chased the creature.
It wasn’t fleeing. Each sweep of its fins carried it farther from the fixed beacon, while I spent fuel keeping pace. I ordered Iri to bring us closer.
She left her hand off the control.
“The fins reach twice as far as the body.”
“Then follow from here.”
“For how long?”
I had no answer.
When Yen pulsed the trapped beacon to check its power, the creature turned toward the glow. When she stopped, it drifted again.
Iri pointed at its path on the screen.
“Stop following it. Give it something to follow.”
Day 19. Three hours later.
Yen had a still berth: a wide docking space where her boat could wait beyond the creature’s fins. We needed to bring it there without a chase.
I turned on our cargo inspection lamp. It was meant to light a hull, not lead a giant animal across a harbor. Still, the creature turned toward it.
We moved slowly. I watched the fuel gauge now. Iri kept our ship outside the fins’ reach. Whenever the creature drifted off, I pulsed the lamp once and waited.
“Try the release before you send my boat close,” Yen said.
At the still berth she dimmed her beacon. The creature reached toward our brighter lamp with two feelers. It loosened its grip on the dim light but didn’t quite let go.
I brought the lamp closer on its long inspection arm. Iri held our ship in place.
One feeler closed around the arm. The beacon slid free.
Yen’s waiting boat caught it with a tether while the creature gripped our lamp. We turned that lamp off too. After a long, slow minute, the feeler uncurled. The creature drifted beyond the berth, carrying nothing.
We had a bent inspection arm, less fuel and a working route.
Yen paid for the bent arm. She wouldn’t pay for the fuel I’d wasted chasing.
“You didn’t ask me before that,” she said.
She was right. I hated that too.
Day 20. The message I didn’t want.
The recovered beacon was back on its frame. We could jump again. Before we left, I called my brother.
He had signed the sale.
“Can you cancel?” I asked.
“No. I wanted the money for my boat. You knew that.”
“I was trying to get home.”
“I’ve been home all this time, Omega.”
Iri stood by the open cargo door, waiting for her wages. I transferred what I owed. It left me far short of buying my brother’s share, even if he hadn’t sold it.
“Good luck with the dock,” she said.
Then she took her bag and walked onto Yen’s port. I let her go without asking her to stay for one more trip.
The chase had used our fuel reserve. We couldn’t make the jump and the long approach home without buying more. Yen’s fuel tanker was due the next morning. I paid, tied up and waited. The shortcut had cost me a whole day.
Day 21. Home.
I came in alone. My brother’s new boat lay against the landing where I used to tie up. The buyer had rented that berth for the month. My half of the dock was the outside stretch, with a narrow unloading space.
My brother waited on the planks. I could see the fresh rope in his hand before the ship’s camera could show his face clearly.
“I need one night to unload,” I said.
“Use the outside berth. The other owner starts at six tomorrow. Keep the path clear.”
“Can I leave the cargo cart?”
“On your half.”
I eased the ship into the space he’d named. There was just enough room. He caught my rope, tied it, and came aboard to help with the first crate.
We didn’t discuss buying anything. Across the water, his new boat lifted gently against its own line.
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