The mate doing the hiring appeared to be made of stone, so he was probably from the planet Gabbro. She'd never been there, but she knew exactly where it was. Maybe she could use that to her advantage for the interview. Not many people had even heard of Gabbro.
"Your resume is impressive," said the mate in his booming, gravelly voice, "but there is no name on this."
"Call me Gwen," she said.
His stony brows lowered suspiciously. "Is there a last name that goes with that?"
"Do you need one?"
"I'd prefer it. This is a legitimate ship with a legitimate, upstanding crew."
"Okay," she said. "Gwen Bowman. Does that work?"
"If finding a navigator were easier," the mate said, "I would question you further. As it is, you are the only applicant for the position, and we are expected to depart tomorrow."
"I think my work speaks for itself," Gwen said. "I have worked for the Interstellar Navy before, if that helps. Captain Smollett will vouch for me."
"I know Captain Smollett. That is not a name to be invoked lightly."
"And I don't invoke it lightly. So do I have the job? Sir?"
"Yes." The mate slid a contract across the table. "Sign at the bottom, and be onboard by dinner tonight, which is served promptly at six. We are in berth 72-A."
Gwen skimmed the contract: pretty standard stuff, lasting for the duration of the voyage made by the RLS Legacy under Captain Amelia and First Mate Arrow. The destination of the voyage wasn't mentioned, but that was probably why they had trouble finding a navigator. Gwen signed quickly, forming the name "Bowman" clumsily. If Mr. Arrow noticed, he made no comment.
Once the contract was signed, Mr. Arrow left. It was midafternoon, which meant that Gwen had maybe three hours to get to Berth 72-A. Fortunately, Gwen wasn't staring anywhere, so all her stuff was already packed in a knapsack and a duffel. She waited a polite interval before leaving the shipping office, so that she and Mr. Arrow wouldn't have to walk together.
Montressor Spaceport was bustling, as always, with aliens of many species and a smattering of humans. Gwen quizzed herself on their planets of origin, and the locations of those planets, as she walked: that was a Drachan from Phaedra, in the Coral Galaxy; that was a Himayan, from the Dagobah system; and that was a Wender from Vivan…
Berth 72-A was easy to find. It was on the top pier of the spaceport, near the space side. It was a good berth. Whoever was paying for this was rich—or stupid with money. Once you launched, the location of your berth didn't matter.
Gwen took the stairs two at a time. Her legs were burning by the time she got to the top; the air was thin, and her stuff was heavy.
The deck was in the kind of ordered chaos one could expect from a ship preparing for departure. Gwen didn't seen any other humans on the crew. Sometimes that caused tension; many species saw humanity as invaders, which unfortunately wasn't completely inaccurate.
She found Mr. Arrow amidships, speaking to a tall Felidan in a blue coat. An Interstellar Captain, according to the stripes on the cuffs of her coat.
Wow, Gwen thought. Whatever this is, it's legit. An Interstellar Captain!
The Felidan broke off mid-sentence to stare at Gwen. "Who are you?"
"Gwen Bowman, Captain." Gwen gave an awkward salute. "I've been hired as your Navigator."
"You're awfully young to be a qualified navigator, if you don't mind my saying so," said the Captain, looking Gwen up and down.
"I'll admit that's true," Gwen said, "but I am qualified. Would you like to see my charts? I've plotted the Kessel run so that it can be done in twelve parsecs."
"It's not possible," said Mr. Arrow.
"I've often thought that the Kessel run could be shortened," said the Captain. "And, unfortunately, we have no choice but to accept your application. We depart tomorrow. You will sleep belowdecks with the rest of the crew, but you may set up your equipment in my stateroom in the stern. I'm told our destination is already plotted, but frankly I am skeptical of our employer's competence."
I wonder what the story is there, Gwen thought.
"Would you prefer that I set up my charts now, or later?" Gwen asked.
"Drop off your supplies in my stateroom, then report to the galley for dinner," Captain Amelia said. "After that, we can discuss your qualifications."
The stateroom on the Legacy was large and well-furnished. One wall of the room was designed for hanging maps. Gwen tested the digital grid projector to make sure it was working. It was. She would've tried to hang some of her maps, but she didn't know where they were going, so she left her bags in the stateroom for the time being and went to the galley.
While she waited in line for her share of stew, Gwen examined the rest of the crew. They were a tough-looking bunch, in complete contrast with the clean-cut image put out by Captain Amelia and Mr. Arrow.
"Who're you?" the cook demanded when Gwen got to the front of the line.
"I'm the navigator," Gwen said. "Bowman."
"Silver. You Navy?"
Gwen shook her head. "Freelance."
Silver handed her a steaming bowl and smiled genially. "Welcome aboard."
He doesn't want me tattling to the Captain, Gwen thought. That's fair enough.
Gwen sat alone at the end of a table. The stew smelled delicious, though it didn't look appetizing in the slightest. She picked up her spoon, and it wriggled.
Gwen dropped the spoon like it was hot. "What the hell?"
The rest of the crew was watching and laughing.
The spoon squirmed, bulged, and turned pink.
"A Protean Morph!" Gwen held out her finger, and the Morph settled on it.
The Morph made a happy trilling noise.
"How'd you get onboard?" Gwen asked it.
"He belongs to Silver," said the lookout in his bizarre Squidwardian accent. "Don't you hurt him, or you'll be sorry."
"I'd never," said Gwen, offended.
The Morph stayed by Gwen all through dinner. She let it finish the dregs of her soup, since that seemed to be what it was after.
After she was done eating, Gwen went back to the stateroom. Captain Amelia and Mr. Arrow were finishing their supper, which looked considerably more edible.
"Is there another cook I should know about?" Gwen quipped.
"Indeed," said Captain Amelia. "Mr. Arrow is an excellent chef."
"Wow," was all Gwen could think of to say.
"I'll be frank with you, Miss Bowman." Captain Amelia set aside a bowl of what looked like cat food. "Until our financier arrives tomorrow morning, we have no idea what our final destination will be."
"So I don't have any work to do tonight," Gwen said.
"Not so much," Captain Amelia said. "I can tell you a few things, but what I say is strictly confidential. Is that understood?"
"Aye, Captain," Gwen said. "You don't need to worry about me. I have a reputation to maintain."
"That's what I told her," Mr. Arrow said. "We spoke with Captain Smollett briefly. He spoke very highly of your work."
"I'd like to see your Kessel route, if you don't mind," said Captain Amelia.
"Of course, Captain." Gwen retrieved her notes from her bag. "I think I can further reduce the distance once the colony on Borgen builds a spaceport."
"Naturally." Captain Amelia skimmed the notes. She raised one eyebrow, impressed. "It appears that we are lucky to have you, Miss Bowman. Your skill is remarkable for one so young."
"My father was an Astronomer for the Interstellar Navy," Gwen said. "I grew up reading astronomy textbooks and star charts."
"I see," said Captain Amelia. "I look forward to working with you. I will summon you to my stateroom when our employer arrives tomorrow, and we will discuss charting our course. Until then, I expect you to stay onboard ship and out of everyone else's way."
"Aye, Captain," Gwen said.