Heris Serrano Read Free Page B

She might have known. They were usually two steps ahead of her—but that was their duty. She flicked up the lower service deck on the display, found Cook's dot, and touched it. Cook transferred the purchase order to her desktop, and she looked at it. Even with six additional people aboard, it looked like enough to feed them all three times over. It would serve them right, she thought, if she made them eat survival rations until they got to Bunny's. Certainly it would cost less and take up less room. Cook had pointed out that they'd need to air up two more refrigeration units and set out another full section of 'ponics.
     
    That would start another argument between crewside and staffside. The environmental techs were ship's crew, under the captain's command; Cecelia knew better than to interfere with her captain's crew. But that part of 'ponics devoted to the kitchen came under the heading of "gardening," which meant staff—her staff. Felix, head gardener, and two boys (one female), kept her private solarium in fresh flowers and Cook supplied with fresh vegetables. Felix and the environmental techs always got into some hassle which required her decision—one of the things she had not liked about her former captain was his tendency to let things slide until she had to quell an incipient riot in staff.
     
    She found Felix's icon, touched it, and told him about the 'ponics section. He wanted to use half of it for a new set of exotics he'd bought seedstock for; the pictures of the so-called vegetables didn't impress her. Felix insisted, though, that if he could have seed available when they arrived at Bunny's, he could trade with Bunny's ferocious head gardener for her favorite (and rarest) mushrooms. Cecelia shrugged; Ronnie and his pals could eat the things she didn't like.
     
    "And what you tell the moles, eh?" he said finally, having won his main point. "You got to let them know it's okay, whatever I grow."
     
    "I will tell Captain Serrano, our new captain, that I've approved your use of an additional 'ponics section for fresh produce."
     
    "They bother me, I'll send 'em the halobeets," Felix said. He would, too. He had done it before, when displeased with someone. A genius of his type—but like most such geniuses, a trifle tempery. She put up with him for the luscious fruits and fresh vegetables, the abundant flowers, which so amazed those who came to dinner. . . . No other yacht she knew of was completely self-sufficient in fresh produce.
     
    She looked again for the captain's icon, and found it moving toward the bridge. Best not interrupt her now; she would have had the crew assembled. Cecelia's finger hovered over the control. . . . She could easily listen in on the captain's first briefing . . . but she decided against it. Instead, she routed a message to the captain's desk about the 'ponics, and called up a credit status.
     
    The figures meant little to her; the reality was that she could afford to buy anything for sale on Rockhouse two or three times over. The desktop offered a bright-colored graphic which showed how much more she was spending to transport herself and six young people compared to herself alone. It didn't matter, and Berenice had transferred stock to cover it anyway. She called up Ronnie's status, and pursed her lips. Berenice had put him on the silver family line, and he had already used it. Hardin's Clothiers, Vetris Accessories, Spaulding . . . Cecelia whistled. He had started with two cubes of storage, and at this rate would need another two.
     
    Her desk chimed. "Aunt Cecelia?" came the plaintive voice. "Please—I need to talk to you."
     
    Hardly, she thought. He needed to listen to her. "Ah, Ronnie. Very good—I meant to ask you, did you bring your hunting tackle?"
     
    "My . . . uh . . . what?"
     
    "Your riding clothes, your saddles—"
     
    "I— no! Of course not. Aunt Cecelia, just because you're crazy enough to ride big stupid animals across rocks and