Full Share

by Nathan Lowell

  What I needed was more information because what I had from the logs wasn’t much help. A week and a half out of Niol, I went to find Rebecca Saltzman in engineering berthing.

  Mitch grinned and Rebecca smiled when I stuck my head into my old quad. “You lost?” Mitch asked.

  “Well yeah, in a way,” I told them. “I’m working on the system failure. Can you two look at something and tell me what I’m missing?”

  They both shrugged. “I’ll look at anything you wanna show me, big fella,” Rebecca said in that heavy-G growl of hers. She had a big grin on her face because she knew what that voice did to me.

  “Behave!” I told her with a laugh. “I’m trying to work here.”

  “Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t look that way.

  Mitch just sighed and shook his head.

  I played them the delayed graphic on my tablet a couple of times.

  Rebecca watched intently and said, “I’ve seen this. Mr. Kelley watches it over and over.”

  “Him and every other officer on the ship. We’re missing something obvious.”

  “Why obvious?” she asked.

  “Because as devious as the officers of the Lois are, they’d have spotted something tricky by now.”

  “What is it supposed to be showing?” Mitch asked.

  “Those are all the component failures from five ticks before we went through the EMP,” I said. “I plotted them by location and time. I expanded the time scale so every tenth of a second real time is one second on the display.”

  “That’s why it seems so slow,” he said, nodding to himself.

  Rebecca and I looked at each other. Rebecca shrugged.

  “Yes, Mitch, that’s right,” I said. “That’s why it seems so slow.”

  “Play it again?” he asked.

  I shrugged and keyed it.

  “So this is what broke?” he asked after it had run its cycle again.

  “Yup. Do you see anything?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.” He laid back down on his bunk.

  Rebecca shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you, Ish. I didn’t spot anything either.”

  “Thanks, guys. I appreciate your time.”

  Mitch grinned at me. “No problem, Ish. You sure you won’t move back?” He nodded at Rebecca. “She’s been moping around since you left and asking me if I have any blue jeans. What’s that about?”

  Rebecca threw her pillow at him, blushing and giggling. For his part, Mitch had a mischievous look and tucked her pillow behind his head.

  We all had a good chuckle, even Rebecca. “Any time you want to move back, Ish. You can sleep on top of me!” she said and stuck her tongue out at Mitch.

  “Rebecca!” Mitch snorted.

  “What?” She pointed to the unclaimed upper bunk above her. “ Up there! You’ve got a dirty mind, Mitch Fitzroy.”

  Jennifer Agotto, one of the machinists from the power section, spoke from the other side of the partition, “Well, he didn’t have one when he moved in here, ya hussy. You’re the one that got it all dirty!”

  We all had another laugh. I think Rebecca laughed hardest of all.

  I was about to leave when Mitch said, “That’s only the stuff that failed, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “why?”

  “Well what about the stuff that didn’t fail? If you add that in somehow, maybe it’ll tell you something.”

  Rebecca looked at him like he had sprouted a second head. “How can you tag something that didn’t happen?” she asked him.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but when we started getting the ShipNet back online, lots of systems were just waiting to be powered up. They weren’t damaged at all.”

  I thought about that for a full tick. “Thanks, Mitch. You’re on to something there.”

  Rebecca looked startled. “He is?”

  “Yeah. I just don’t know what, or how, but it’s something to try besides just running the same clip over and over.”

  I took that idea with me to the bridge for that afternoon’s watch and started going back through the logs.

  We were about a week out of Niol when I went to lunch and saw Brill, Diane, and Francis all grinning. Smiling in anticipation, I got my lunch and joined them.

  “What’s the cause of this joyous gathering?” I asked.

  Brill said quietly, “Mr. Colby did his maintenance last night.”

  Diane added just as quietly, “And did a first rate job of it too.”

  “Excellent. You should probably kill the sob-track for tonight,” I said.

  Brill nodded. “Already done.”

  “Think it’ll stick?” Francis asked.

  “Hard to say, but you can always turn it on again.”

  Just then CC came through the mess line. He looked horrible, like he hadn’t slept in a week. His shipsuit had a big smear of something on it that could have been almost anything. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. He seemed almost afraid of Sarah as he approached the line and, sure enough, Sarah leaned forward and said something to him. Pip’s expression changed from a big smile to confusion when CC smiled and thanked her before moving on down the line.

  “What was that?” I wondered aloud.

  Brill had seen it too. “I don’t know but it looked strange.”

  I got up and went for coffee, swinging by to have a quiet word with Pip. Then I came back to the table and sat down. “Well, I think perhaps it might stick.”

  “What’d she say?” Francis asked.

  “Pip said that for the past few days she’s been saying things like, ‘Remember Matthew.’”

  “Remember Matthew?” Diane asked, then comprehension dawned. “Wasn’t he on the Matthew Boulton?”

  Brill and I both said, “Yup,” at the same time.

  “How did she know he was on the Matthew Boulton.” Diane asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe she overheard it. It’s not a secret.”

  Brill asked, “So, what did she say today?”

  “According to Pip she said, ‘Lois thanks you.’”

  We all just sat there and ate our meals in silence for a long while.

  At one point, Brill said to me, “That girl is spookier than you are.”

  Diane looked at me for a long time before turning back to Brill. “I think it’s a draw,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Niol Orbital

  2352-August-15

  Those last few days on approach to Niol were both spectacular and frustrating. It seemed like we zoomed in on the planet in a matter of stans and then just hung out there, inching in for days on end. It really wasn’t that long, but it seemed it. It had been a long trip from Betrus—eight weeks—and we were all ready to get ashore again. The image of Wendy wearing nothing but a satisfied grin and a sheen of sweat kept popping into my brain at odd, and often unfortunate, moments.

  Third section had the mid-watch before docking. I had been wrestling with what Mitch had suggested for a week without making any progress. About halfway through the watch, I stood and walked to the bow to look at the orbital creeping in. We would dock before the day was out and after eight weeks of analysis, I was no closer to understanding what had happened, let alone how. Sure, we knew the outcome. We had plenty of burned boards and some crisped out electrical runs, too, but those were just the symptoms. We needed to know what caused that burning and for that we had no idea.

  “Problems, Mr. Wang?” Mr. von Ickles said from behind me.

  I turned and rested my elbows on the port combing behind me. “How do you mark that something didn’t happen, sar?”

  He blinked. “You can’t,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Logical rule from the dark ages. What are you trying to do?”

  “This systems problem, sar. We’ve been gnawing on it for weeks.”

  “Yup,” he agreed. “Any insight?”

  “I’ve been thinking that the answer has to be something obvi
ous, sar.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “The four most devious minds in this end of the galaxy haven’t spotted anything tricky, sar.”

  “You make a good point,” he said with a considering tone. “But don’t underestimate yourself. I hear the maintenance schedule is back on track in environmental.”

  “Remind me to tell you more about that because I don’t think I can take the credit, sar.”

  “Okay,” he said, and startled me by taking out his tablet and actually making a note. “Back to the problem at hand. Why does it have to be something obvious?”

  “Well, if it’s not something tricky? What’s left, sar?”

  “Well, that’s obvious.”

  “You see my point, then, sar.” I smiled and continued. “Well, the first thing that occurred to me was that, if the data weren’t telling us what we needed to know then we either had too much, too little, or the wrong data.”

  “Obviously,” he said warming to the discussion.

  “So I took the graphic down to engineering berthing to ask Rebecca Saltzman if she saw anything missing, sar.”

  “Did she?”

  “No, sar, but Mitch Fitzroy was there and he made an interesting observation.”

  “Mitch?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah, don’t sell him short. He may have the answer, if we can just figure out how to look at it, sar.”

  “Are you going to keep stringing me along, Mr. Wang? The watch will be over in a couple of stans and I was kinda hoping to find out how this story ends before then.”

  “Mitch pointed out that the graphic only shows what failed, sar.”

  He nodded for me to continue.

  “He suggested we should look at what didn’t fail.”

  Mr. von Ickles went absolutely still—like a freeze framed holo. I don’t think he even blinked or breathed for almost a tick. “Obviously,” he said at last.

  I shrugged. “You see my dilemma, sar.”

  “How to track what didn’t fail.”

  “Yes, sar.”

  “What an interesting observation. What was his rationale for that? Did he say?”

  “Mitch, sar? He said something like, ‘When we started bringing up the ShipNet, lots of stuff was just waiting for us to power it back up. Maybe you should look at what didn’t fail.’ I can’t be sure of his exact words, but that’s the gist of it.”

  “He’s right,” Mr. von Ickles said. “And it is obvious,” he added with a grin.

  I saw it then, or rather heard it as I played back in my brain what I had just said, waiting for us to power it back up.

  Mr. von Ickles must have seen the revelation spread across my face. “Exactly, Mr. Wang.”

  “Obviously, Mr. von Ickles.”

  I started digging through the logs again—just as before, there was a lot of data.

  First section relieved us on time and we grabbed breakfast before setting navigation detail. I saw Mr. von Ickles having a conversation with Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Kelley, and the captain. At one point, Mr. Kelley said “Mitch?” in disbelief so I knew what they were talking about. While they chatted, I brought up the systems schematic and started monitoring the communications traffic the way Mr. von Ickles had shown me on the way out of Betrus. Eight weeks of watches with my head in the console—sometimes literally—had been an education in its own right. I knew I had a knack for dealing with what my mother had called, “the damn devil box” but working with Mr. von Ickles had shown me new levels that I had not known existed. I sucked it up like a sponge. It was hard work, but it was fun as well. I rather enjoyed the idea of being paid to play.

  There was the same kind of performance on the bridge as we docked as there had been when we set out. But this time it slowly unraveled as we furled the sails, retracted the grav-keel, and shut down systems. The kickers came online and nudged us to where the tugs would be able to guide us in. Eventually, the nose of the Lois just kissed the docking ring and the locking clamps snapped down to make us part of the structure of the station itself. It seemed like such a delicate grasp to hold the mass of the ship and cargo but it did the job. Finally, we secured the systems and the ship came to rest.

  “Make the announcement, Mr. Pa,” the captain said. “Secure from navigation detail. First section has the watch.”

  She waited for Fong to finish before turning to her first mate. “You may declare liberty at your discretion, Mr. Maxwell.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Make the announcement, Mr. Pa.”

  Mr. von Ickles surprised me by stepping up to my station and saying, “I wonder if you would be able to meet me at the lock in about a stan, Mr. Wang? I have a little procurement problem I’d like your help with.”

  “Of course, sar.” Frankly, I was a little disappointed. I’d been hoping to grab some bunk time before heading up to the flea market to see what Niol had to offer, but Mr. von Ickles was always good for a surprise.

  Bev had the watch and checked us out with a sly grin. “You watch out for him, Mr. von Ickles.”

  “Oh?” he said. “Why is that, Ms. Arith?”

  “You’ve been working with him for the last eight weeks and you have to ask, sar?”

  “I see your point, Ms. Arith, and I’ll take your warning under advisement.”

  I grabbed a shower, changed into civvies, and met him at the lock. As we reflected on Bev’s comments we both were chuckling as we stepped out into the stinging cold of the docks. We headed for the lifts and I still had no idea what was up. “Excuse me, sar, but can I ask where we’re going?”

  “Lee,” he said.

  “Excuse me, sar?”

  “Try, ‘Excuse me, Lee,’ Ishmael,” he said. “We’re off the ship and off-duty, so I think we can leave all that sar stuff at the lock, don’t you?”

  “I think we can, yes.” For some reason I was inordinately pleased with this.”

  “After all, you didn’t call Alicia Alvarez ‘sar’ when you were on station, did you?”

  “Well, not in the bar,” I replied.

  “Not in the bar—” he began, and then stopped and looked at me. “You never cease to amaze me, Ishmael.”

  We’d reached the lift and got in. Mr. von Ickles—Lee—punched the oh-two button.

  “We’re going to purchase something down on the oh-two level?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he said with a grin.

  After a moment, he turned to me and asked, “You called her sar?”

  “Well, not in the bar.”

  The lift stopped on oh-two and we got off. It was mid afternoon station time, and my internal clock reeled in confusion, having been up all night for the mid-watch, and all morning with navigation detail. I was thinking that lunch sounded good, but station time would indicate something more like dinner.

  I followed Lee around to port and he ducked into a quiet bar not terribly far from the lift. The sign over the door said: Shaunessey’s. The interior was wrapped in dark wood—along with not-quite-leather. It looked good and I began to understand what Lee wanted help procuring.

  We settled at a table and he ordered a small pitcher of a medium ale. “You don’t mind helping me with this beer, do you?” he asked.

  “It’s kinda early in the day, isn’t it?”

  “Well, we’ve been working for the last ten stans, we’re off-duty, and it’s coming up on evening here. I think we’ve earned it,” he said. “Your objection is based on what?”

  “Since you put it that way, I guess it’s based on nothing more than the artificial constraints of an arbitrary time frame.”

  “Exactly my point, Ishmael.” The waitress brought the pitcher and Lee did the honors with a certain amount of flair and obvious expertise.

  “You called her sar?” he asked again as he was pouring.

  “Well, only when she gave me an order,” I told him.

  “When she gave you an order?” he shook his head and pushed a glass in my direction.

  I shrugged. “She was quite deman
ding. I did my very best to comply.”

  “I bet you did, Ishmael.” He raised his glass and toasted, “To satisfying demanding women!”

  I tapped my glass to his and drank deeply. That was a toast I could get behind.

  We settled back for what looked like would be a rather extensive session of procurement. He asked, “So, tell me what happened in environmental?”

  I filled him in while we finished the pitcher and ordered a second. He laughed at the part where Sarah reminded him about the Matthew.

  “Did we ever get that packet from them, by the way?” I asked.

  “You mean an answer from the Boulton?”

  “Yeah, did they respond?”

  Lee shrugged. “It was rather non-committal actually. They were having disciplinary problems with him and there had been a couple of close calls in environmental. Basically what we ran into.”

  “But?” I prompted.

  “But there was nothing in his personnel jacket—which we already knew—and the Chief Engineer just said that there was no evidence of foul play.”

  “Absence of evidence—” I began.

  “Exactly.”

  “Did they try to fire him?” I asked.

  “They were going to give him one more leg to shape up or ship out. Then he was injured, and he’s been sponging off the company ever since.”

  “So much for my conspiracy theories.”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no,” he said over the rim of his beer.

  “Oh?” I asked and I really liked the tell-me-more quality of my reply. The practice was beginning to pay off.

  “Well, there are no Colby’s on the board or anything,” he started.

  “But?”

  “His mother is Charlotte Colby of the New Farnouk Colby’s?”

  “Beyond Federated Freight’s home office being on New Farnouk, that doesn’t mean anything to me.” I shrugged. “I’m a bumpkin, remember?”

  “High society, VIP on the New Farnouk circuit,” he said.

  “I think I see where you’re going.”

  “Ex-mistress of Alvin T. Merrick,” he said.

  “The Chairman of the Board of New Farnouk Development Corp, Alvin T. Merrick?” I asked.