Double Share: Solar Clipper Trader Tales

by Nathan Lowell

  “Seriously, how did you do it?” Mel asked when we stopped laughing at me. “I’ve been an officer for thirty stanyers, and I’ve never had as much trouble with any crew as I’ve had with this bunch.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Cleaning the bridge was actually easy. Jaxton was actively hostile. I think she thought I was gonna make a pass at her or something. She definitely didn’t trust me. When I called Charlotte up to the bridge that night I had to practically wrestle her shipsuit back on her.”

  “Back on her? You didn’t mention that before,” Arletta said archly.

  “You know what I mean,” I said. “She was ready to go and I had to convince the pair of them that I wasn’t planning on playing with them.”

  Arletta grinned. “Yeah, so you say.”

  “Go on, Ishmael, I want to hear this,” Mel said.

  “So I outlined what I wanted to do, sent D’Heng down to the janitor locker for supplies, and we cleaned the bridge. Jaxton is the tallest so she did the ports. D’Heng and I did the consoles and screens. I showed them the broom locker on the bridge and it didn’t take that long to do a first sweep and swab of the deck. We’ve done a couple of them now and we’re making headway.”

  “There’s a broom locker on the bridge?” Arletta asked.

  “Yeah, just to the port of the—” I saw the wide-eyed, innocently fascinated stare coming from her direction and stuck my tongue out at her.

  “You said, ‘We cleaned…’” Mel pointed out. “You rolled up your sleeves and cleaned consoles?”

  “Well, sure. I work there too. Mr. Burnside gave me some management advice about what a bad idea that was for earning and keeping the respect of the crew when he found out about it.”

  Mel leveled a stare at me.

  “And what do you think of that advice?” she asked after a heartbeat.

  “I was crew once myself. The officers I respected, respected me. They earned my respect by working hard and making sure I was able to do my job in a safe, secure, and efficient manner. Now that I’m an officer, I want to be like them. We’re all in the same tin can and it’s a long way to anywhere.”

  I sipped my coffee, hoping I hadn’t just gotten into trouble, again. The academy offered a series of courses on the officer-crew dynamic. It was deemed particularly important since so many officers came from families who were crew. They’d grown up on ships where gramps or grammy were the captains and cousin Flo ran the galley. I’d had a lot of time to think about the relationship between officer and crew while at the academy, but the only role models I had to draw from had been the Lois McKendrick until I started shipping out on the summer cruises, and I began to see different perspectives.

  “So, how did you get them to study?” Fredi asked after a tick had gone by in relative silence.

  “I just asked them what their next rating was and how far along they were. Our normal routine is to get the watch relieved, let things settle in for the first stan, deal with meals, and such, then clean the bridge up, and settle down to study. Charlotte usually fetches the coffee and joins us on the bridge. It’s really a pleasant way to spend a watch.”

  “But how did you get them to study?” Mel asked again.

  “I didn’t do anything. Jaxton has to be there. She can sit and stare at the helm and watch the stars go by or she can study. D’Heng can sit on the mess deck or she can sit on the bridge. The bridge is clean and comfortable.”

  “And safe,” Arletta added.

  “Well yes, of course, safe. So she joins us on the bridge. We’re studying. She studies. We have coffee. Sometimes we talk about ship’s operations. Why somethings get done a particular way, that sort of thing. Sometimes they trade practice test questions.”

  “What are you studying, Ishmael?” Mel asked.

  “The ship. I need to know a lot more about the ship if I’m going to be an effective officer when things go bad.”

  “You think things will go bad?” Fredi asked with a small smile.

  “Let’s just say, I’ve been on a ship where everybody worked together and everybody watched each other’s back, and yet we still almost died, taking half a planet with us. I hope things will never get that way again, but I’m not going to bet that they won’t, so I want to be prepared. When it comes right down to it, I wanna know a lot more about what I can do to keep breathing, and I’m perfectly willing to work very hard for that knowledge even if I’ll never use it.”

  They all nodded and we turned to finishing off breakfast.

  “You know, we never did settle how to get the ship clean.” I said, finishing off the last of my toast. “I mean, the bridge is small enough to keep up with. How do we deal with the passageways? I don’t even want to think about the berthing areas.”

  “Well, the captain has to change the standing orders,” Mel pointed out. “But those are only the minimum requirements. We’ve gotten to the state aboard where the minimum has become the maximum.”

  Arletta said, “The bridge is clean and we didn’t have to change the orders for that.”

  Mel sipped her coffee, looking at me over the rim. “I’ll see what I can do about the engineering spaces. We have a regular field day there, but if the mids are the ‘cleaning’ watches, then everybody gets one, and as Ishmael has found out after the first one, the maintenance is pretty easy.”

  “Frankly, if we could get everybody to wear a fresh shipsuit every day and keep the common areas cleaned, I think we’d all be a lot more comfortable, and probably happier and safer,” Fredi said.

  “I think we can deal with the watch spaces—bridge, engineering, environmental—but that leaves berthing, mess deck, and passageways,” Arletta added.

  I turned and looked at the corners of the wardroom. “This place probably could use a thorough swab too,” I said.

  A voice spoke up from the doorway. “I’d be happy to do it, if you’d talk to Mr. Vorhees for me, sar,” Davies said.

  We all looked up in surprise. “Why would we need to talk to Mr. Vorhees, Ms. Davies?” Mel asked. “Isn’t this your normal duty?”

  “Well, yes, but he doesn’t want me in here except to serve and clear, sar. He says that it’s for officers and I need to steer clear.”

  “Does anyone use the wardroom between meals?” I asked, confused.

  Fredi said, “I come in once in a while to get a cup of coffee and read.”

  Mel nodded. “I do too. It’s a quiet place to review logs, although lately, I’ve enjoyed the view from the bridge while I’m working.”

  Fredi added, “The staterooms seem so small after a while.”

  Davies made a little “that’s what I mean” face.

  “Thank you, Ms. Davies,” I said. “I’d be happy to visit with Mr. Vorhees, and you and Ms. Cramer too, to talk about the wardroom and the mess deck.”

  “Thank you, sar. May I clear now?” she asked with a glance at the chrono.

  I saw with a shock that it was nearly 08:00.

  Mel stood and said, “Yes, thank you, Ms. Davies, We’re just leaving.”

  I stood too, and was pleased to note that everybody picked up their dirty dishes and put them in the tray as we headed out to deal with the day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DIURNIA SYSTEM

  2358-JULY-18

  “Mr. Vorhees?” I stuck my head into the galley. “A moment, if I may?”

  I’d timed it just about right. Mr. Vorhees was just finishing his breakfast routine. Davies was still in the wardroom, and Cramer smiled at me from the griddle where she was running a cleaning stone over the surface. The place smelled faintly of soap and bacon. Not one of my favorite aromas but it meant things were getting clean.

  Mr. Vorhees smiled and followed me out onto the mess deck, and I went to the coffee urns to get a cup. I was a bit uneasy and wanted something to do with my hands. I didn’t want to mess with another division’s workings, but I also needed the chief’s help. I tried to think of what Mr. Maxwell would have done on the Lois if he had Mr. Vor
hees instead of Cookie.

  “How can I help you, sar?” he asked with a smile.

  “Is the coffee getting a good response?” I asked in reply. “It’s been over a week now. I know I certainly appreciate the change.”

  He snorted a small laugh. “Yes, sar. You were right. The biggest problem now is keeping the urn full.”

  “Yes, I remember that problem on my old ship. It’s actually a good problem to have.”

  “Yes, it is, sar,” he said. “Now if I could just get them to return the cups.”

  “Return the cups?”

  “Yes, sar. They come down, get coffee, take the mugs and leave them everywhere: berthing, engineering, even the passageways.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said with a nod. “In that case, I think I have another solution for you.” I dangled the bait out there to see if he’d bite.

  He grinned and gave me one of those senior-hand-to-junior officer looks but only said, “Well, sar, I’d love to hear it.”

  “On the Lois, the mess deck was like the ship’s living room. When we were underway, it’s where everybody went to get a cuppa, grab a cookie, sit, and visit. You know what I mean?”

  “Oh, yes, sar,” he replied with a knowing nod. “Same on practically every ship I’ve ever been on. On the Billy, it seems like the crew has other things to do than sit around the mess deck.” His comment was freighted with an odd collection of baggage, but I let that go for the moment.

  “Well…” I started, drawing the word out a bit, “if it were you, would you want to spend time here?” I looked pointedly at the stained tables and littered deck. “I know it’s just after breakfast and the morning cleanup hasn’t really had a chance here yet, but—and pardon me for saying it…” I let my voice trail off before I actually did say it.

  He sighed. “Oh, I agree, sar. Some days I think that if I’d let my engine room get to the state that this mess deck gets sometimes, my old chief would have snatched me bald.”

  “How can I help, John?” I asked gently, deliberately using his first name to step outside the formal relationship of crew and officer. After a couple of heartbeats, I added, “It occurs to me that if they’re sitting here drinking coffee, then there’s that many fewer cups for you to collect from around the ship.”

  He pursed his lips and eyed the room for a moment before looking back at me. “How’d you get your watch section to clean the bridge? I can’t believe it was…you know…like the stories.”

  I almost burst out laughing. He was so earnest. I had a hard time controlling my face. At the same time I had believing this guy had been an engineering spec one. Spec one’s are the backbone of the fleet. They’re what keep the ships going. They keep junior third mates from walking out airlocks and sticking their heads into fusactors. Then again, maybe his lateral to steward division actually made a little more sense than it had first seemed.

  “I just laid out what I wanted done, and the three of us got it taken care of,” I told him. “Simple enough.”

  His brow furrowed in a thoughtful expression as he looked around the mess deck. “Yes,” he said slowly, “of course.” He paused for a moment and I let his train of thought pull fully into the station while I sipped my coffee. “So? Is there something you needed from me, sar?” he asked, finally remembering that I wanted to talk to him.

  “Yes, actually there is. While we’re on the subject of cleaning, would you ask Ms. Davies to give the wardroom a good swab? It’s beginning to build up a little in there. I know Ms. Menas and Ms. DeGrut use the space between meals sometimes, but we had a discussion about it over breakfast and they’d rather be interrupted once in a while than have the place get all grubby, if you know what I mean?”

  “Is she not doing a good enough job, sar? Ms. Davies?” the chief asked.

  “Oh, that’s not the issue, chief,” I assured him. “It’s just”—I waved my coffee cup at the mess deck by way of illustration—“every so often you need to catch up with it, you know?”

  He frowned thoughtfully and nodded. “Yes, sir. I do know.”

  “When I was on the mess deck of the Lois, Cookie, he was my chief, always had us do the major cleaning right after evening meal: top to bottom in both the mess deck and galley. Pip and I got so we could do it in half a stan, and it sure made life easier in the morning.”

  “Half a stan?” his eyebrows rose in surprise. “That’s all?”

  I shrugged. “I suspect it’d take more than half a stan the first time around,” I said, pointedly looking at what looked like coffee stains on the overhead, “but once you got it done once, it’d be pretty easy. All that’s really needed is the old sweep-n-swab after breakfast and lunch and then a full swab down after dinner. We got so fast that we had a couple stans in the afternoon off between lunch clean up and dinner prep.”

  He nodded slowly, his eyes tracked across the mess deck, and I saw them pausing slightly here and there, cataloging things that needed doing. “I see what you mean, sar,” he said finally.

  “I really do think that would help your stray coffee mug problem.” I reinforced the idea one last time as I turned back to the urn to top off my mug again.

  “Yes, sar, I do too. And I’ll have Penny—uh, Ms. Davies—give the wardroom a good cleaning today.”

  “Thanks, John,” I told him with a warm smile, “I appreciate it and I know Ms. Menas and Ms. DeGrut will as well.”

  Mission accomplished, I strolled off the mess deck as nonchalantly as I could. According to the chrono, I had two stans before I had to take over the bridge watch, so I headed for my stateroom to change into my workout clothes. I had time for a good run before watch.

  I rounded the corner and headed down the passage past the cabin when the door opened and one of the engineering crew—Bayless, according to his shipsuit—slipped out, closing it softly behind him. He started guiltily when he saw me coming, and I gave him what I hoped was a re-assuring smile. He ducked his head as we passed, but neither of us said anything. Poor guy looked really embarrassed and I wondered what he’d done to earn the captain’s wrath so early in the voyage. I snorted to myself as I started changing into my sweats, wondering how the captain even knew of any infractions, considering he never left the cabin.

  The gym had a modest collection of equipment. There were two stationary bikes, two treadmills, and a rowing machine. The space wasn’t big enough for a track, but there was an open area for those who practiced various versions of the martial arts, or just wanted deck space to do a few push-ups. It even had one of those spring driven weight machines. Free weights might have been dangerous if we lost gravity and they started flying around. What it lacked, and what I missed, was the steam room from the Lois, or even a hot tub like the Bad Penny.

  On the other hand, considering the crew, I wasn’t sure either of those things was all that desirable. I could envision the kinds of activities that an uninhibited crew might engage in while underway, and I didn’t really want to consider stumbling onto that.

  When I got there the place was deserted, so I started on the treadmill first thing. It really wasn’t as good as a track, but it did let me move. It was one of the better units too, and I punched in a pre-programmed routine and started a slow jog to warm up. I was about half a stan into the program when I heard somebody else come in, looking over my shoulder I saw Nart limbering up on the rowing machine. She smiled and gave a little wave when she saw me look and I nodded back. I was beginning to work up a good sweat and the program changed to an incline so I buckled down and gave it my attention.

  Only a few ticks later, I heard voices behind me and glanced over to see Apones and a beefy engineman standing, one on either side of the rowing machine. Nart was flushed but staring straight ahead and rowing steadily. Apones was saying something over her head to the engineman on the other side. I couldn’t hear what over the sound of the equipment, but the tone was obvious. His buddy laughed nastily and Nart’s jaw clenched.

  Sighing, I punched the reset on my treadmill, picked
up my towel, and scrubbed it across my face to dry the sweat from my eyes. I stepped off the machine while the tread slowed, and the two chuckle wits glanced in my direction as I crossed to them.

  “Good morning, Ms. Nart,” I greeted her with a smile. I looked at Apones and then at his buddy, noting the stenciled “Mosler” on his chest. “Gentlemen,” I said, “are you here for a workout?”

  Apones grinned in a way that I found not terribly endearing. “Well that depends on Ulla here,” he said with a leer.

  Nart shot him an angry glance but kept rowing.

  Mosler nudged the rowing machine with the toe of his ship boot. “How about it, sweet thing? Feel like a little workout?” he asked in a tone that left no doubt about what he had in mind.

  “Buzz off,” she growled. “I’m busy.” She didn’t look up, not at them, not at me.

  “Aw come on, honey,” Apones wheedled. “We can go a lot farther than that rowing machine can.”

  “Hell yeah,” Mosler added. “How about around the world?” He leaned down with his hands on his knees.

  She didn’t respond, other than to ignore them and continue rowing.

  “Gentlemen,” I said softly. “I think Ms. Nart is occupied at the moment.” It was a warning. I wanted to smash their smug faces in, but that would have been a dangerous thing to do.

  “Aw, Mr. Wang,” Apones said—purposefully mispronouncing my name—“we’re just having a little fun. You know about having fun, I hear.” He shot a knowing smirk at Mosler.

  “You may be, Mr. Apones, but Ms. Nart is not.” I looked from him to Mosler and back. “Don’t you two have something else you should be doing? If not, I can find plenty for a pair of big strong guys like you to do.”

  They looked at me for a long moment as I wiped the sweat from my neck and face with the now slightly soggy towel. I thought, for just a heartbeat, that they’re going to push it, but they backed down. Apones stepped away, and when he did, Mosler went with him.