I finally saw Charlotte get it. “Because when it’s over, we’ll be at the beach and we can do whatever we want.”
“Exactly,” I said. “And just like it would be easier if everybody chipped in on the fuel for the ground car, it’ll be easier to clean the mess deck with more people who’ll chip in on the cleaning. Everybody will get the benefit of the clean mess deck, but the more people who help, the smaller the cost for any person.”
“So we should find some more people who’d be willing to help,” Charlotte said almost instantly looking at Juliett.
“Well, I’ve got the watch,” she pointed out, making an ostentatious show of examining the helm console.
“I’ll go check with Penny and Karen and find out when they’re gonna work on it,” Charlotte said. “Then we can ask around and see if anybody else wants to help.”
“Ulla will, I bet,” Juliett said. “First section has evening watch tonight, so that means second will be off. I don’t know about Betts, but I bet Ulla will.”
“Ask him anyway,” I suggested. “He may surprise you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DIURNIA SYSTEM
2358-JULY-18
“So you found my little present?” Mr. Burnside asked when he relieved me at 17:45.
“Sorry?” I really had no idea what he was talking about.
He pointed to the console. “I left you a little something, since you were having so much fun cleaning.”
“Oh, that?” I shrugged. “Forgot all about it, but thanks for your consideration.” I tried to keep my voice carefully neutral.
He just snickered, but then his expression changed as if he’d suddenly remembered something. He motioned me over to the bridge wing where we could have a bit of privacy. “I talked to Apones this afternoon,” he began.
“Really? Something I should be aware of?” I asked.
“Yes, actually.” He paused. “You were out of line,” he said seriously.
“I was out of line?” I repeated it back trying to figure out if I’d seen Apones some time during the day other than when he and Mosler were assaulting Nart. “What exactly did you talk to Mr. Apones about?”
“The little incident in the gym,” he was giving me the stern, superior to junior officer look.
I glanced over to where Mallory was relieving Jaxton and Burnside stepped into my line of sight, backing me up into the bridge wing a little farther and blocking my view.
“I’m talking to you, Wang,” he said sharply but softly. “You are not to interfere with my watch standers. Ever. Are we clear?” He bit each word off.
“Interfere with your watch standers?” It shouldn’t have surprised me, but the sheer stupidity of it took me off balance. “Apones and Mosler were assaulting Nart!” I said trying to keep my voice down. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Walk away,” he said. “Apones is on my watch. If there is a problem, you come to me.”
I stared at him.
“Did you hear me, Wang?” he was right in my face.
“You must be joking! You think I’m going to walk away—”
He cut me off with a fast hard fist, once, up under my ribcage which drove me back into the bulkhead and left me trying to suck air back into my lungs. The pain was amazing. I thought I was going to keel over right there.
“Be quiet, Wang,” he snapped. “Listen and listen good. You…do…not…ever…interfere.”
I was sagged against the bulkhead. If he hadn’t been standing so close, my feet would have probably slid out from under me. My world was narrowed to a gray tunnel and aching gut-punch.
After one last glower, he turned and stepped over to the console.
“I have the watch, Mr. Wang. Logged on 2358-July-18, at 17:45 per standing order,” he announced loudly.
Juliett knew something was wrong. Something about the way I was leaning against the bulkhead—or perhaps it was the redness in my face or the way I was trying to wheeze air back into my lungs. She started to say something but I caught her eye and shook my head once, nodding toward the ladder.
I managed to stumble upright and cross the bridge without staggering. I did stumble a little at the bottom where she was waiting and caught me by the arm.
“Are you all right, sar?”
I managed a weak chuckle as her question echoed mine from earlier in the day. It was rather an inane question when viewed from this side. The movement eased the cramp, though, and I was able to get almost a full breath again. “A little disagreement with the first mate,” I said. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
She eyed me dubiously. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a terrible liar, sar?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes, Ms. Jaxton, they have—on numerous occasions. I keep practicing in hopes that some day I’ll get better.”
“Keep practicing, sar.” She glared up the ladder and then looked back at me.
“Ms. Jaxton?” I said gathering her attention. “It’s almost time for dinner mess. Shouldn’t you be heading in that direction?”
“Yes, sar, I was just waiting to see if you’d fall down when you let go of the ladder rail, sar. It’s not often you get to see an officer fall over from ‘a little disagreement’ and I thought it might be instructive, sar.”
I snorted a soft laugh. The sudden contraction stabbed at me, but at least my sense of humor wasn’t permanently damaged. “Have you ever considered the academy, Ms. Jaxton?”
“Me?” she barked in disbelief. “No! What would make you say something like that?”
I shook my head and felt the crooked grin on my face. “No particular reason, Ms. Jaxton.” I let go of the ladder and walked with as much dignity as I could down the passage.
Behind me I heard her snort, but she headed for the mess deck.
I let myself into my stateroom without falling down or throwing up. I heard the shower running in the head, so I sat on my bunk and curled up around the pain, letting myself deal with it for the first time, now that I had a little privacy.
In a few ticks the shower cut off and, after a few more, I heard a soft tap. I straightened up from the near fetal curl and tried to compose myself a bit before I reached up and released the latch.
Arletta was in her terry robe and still rubbing her hair with a towel. “How was—my gods! What happened to you?” she said.
“Oh, hiya, neighbor,” I said.
“‘Hiya, neighbor’? That’s your answer?” She scowled at me, but looked more concerned than angry.
“What makes you think anything happened?” I asked trying to sit up straight, but still feeling my shoulders curling inward.
“Hmm,” she said with a considering tone. “Might have something to do with the fact that you’re sitting there hunched over like somebody kicked you in the jewels and your face looks like you been punched in the gut.”
I nodded appreciatively. “One out of two. Not a bad average.”
She blinked at me as she processed what I was saying. “Somebody kicked you in the jewels?” she asked incredulously.
“No, punched in the gut,” I said and stopped trying to pretend it didn’t hurt.
“Who? Why?” she asked. When I didn’t answer right away, she said, “Burnside!” She made the name a curse.
I sighed and nodded. “I ‘interfered’ with his watch stander.”
“You what?” she asked, but then almost immediately added, “This is about Nart, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, how do you know about it?”
“Ulla came to me this afternoon. Thanks for standing up for her, but you have to be more careful. Those two are bad news.”
“They’re crew,” I said.
“They’re mean, vicious, and stupid,” she spat. “Being an officer won’t protect you from that.”
“Nor from Burnside, either, apparently,” I said.
“What happened?” she stepped into my stateroom and took the guest chair. She smelled wonderful. Warm, clean, soapy. I tried not to think too much about her bare knees poking ou
t from the bottom of her robe.
“When he came to relieve the watch,” I said, focusing on her eyes, “he took me over to the bridge wing and we had a little discussion over my interference with his guys. He backed me into the corner, and while Mallory was relieving the watch, he snuck one up under my ribcage.”
“What were you supposed to do? Those thugs were assaulting a crewman!” She was getting angrier by the tick.
“His words? ‘Walk away.’”
“You can’t do that! It’s illegal.”
“What? Like punching an officer?”
“That’s illegal too, but if you walked away and something happened. If it came out that you’d been there and done nothing, then they take your ticket.”
“At least,” I agreed.
“At least!” she said.
“But you’re forgetting one thing,” I pointed out.
“What?”
“Who’s the law here?”
“We’re governed by the rules and regulations set forth by the Confederated Planets Joint Committee on Trade. This is illegal!” she sputtered.
“But who’s the law here?” I asked again with the emphasis on “here.”
“Rossett,” she said, her indignation collapsing as the reality hit her.
“It’s only illegal if you can make a case to the authorities,” I pointed out. “We can’t do anything in space, and we’ll have no standing once we make port if the captain won’t back us.”
We sat there, silently contemplating the situation.
“He’s going to be even more insufferable, you know,” she said.
“Which one?” I asked. “Burnside? Or Apones?”
She closed her eyes in resignation. “I was thinking Burnside, but you’re right.”
My tablet pinged to remind me that it was almost time for dinner in the wardroom. Arletta stood and slipped back through the door to the head. “I better get dressed. You grab a quick shower and I’ll walk down with you.”
I nodded and she closed the door on her side as I slipped gingerly out of my clothes and into the shower. The hot water felt good.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DIURNIA SYSTEM
2358-JULY-18
By the time Arletta and I got to the wardroom, Mel and Fredi were already there and waiting. Arletta did the “sorry we’re late” routine and I got into my chair without incident.
“We were just admiring the handiwork,” Mel said with a wave around the room.
It registered then. The room was immaculate. The table cloth was really white. So white I hadn’t realized that it wasn’t before. The cutlery and glassware gleamed, and the room itself was perfect. I glanced down at the deck, around at the bulkheads, and even up at the overhead.
“Did she do everything all this afternoon?” I asked.
Fredi smiled and nodded. “Well her and some others. I came down to read, and they were going to town. It was quite a party. When I saw them in here I backed out, but Ms. Davies brought me a little pot of coffee to take back to my stateroom.”
Ms. Davies stepped through the door with a serving tray just at that moment and she smiled at us warmly. “It was my pleasure, sar. I know you like a little coffee in the afternoon so I was ready.”
“It was most considerate, Penny, thank you. And you and your colleagues did a wonderful job here.”
“We had fun, actually, sar,” she said with a pretty smile. She served us with her usual competence while she talked. “Karen, Ulla, and Vicki were great to help.”
“Vicki?” Arletta asked. “VanDalon from Power?”
“Yes, sar,” Penny said. “We had more people who were willing, but that’s all we could fit in here and still have room to move.”
“That’s amazing,” I said. “Thank you for your hard work.”
She smiled, pleased by the praise. “You’re welcome, sars. Thank you for speaking to Mr. Vorhees, Mr. Wang. We’re going to have a field day on the mess deck tonight, and he’s made one of his cakes for dessert afterward. It should be fun.”
“A field day?” Mel asked.
“Yes, sar. Mr. Wang suggested that perhaps if we got the mess deck cleaned up a little more, the crew would sit there and drink coffee. That way we wouldn’t have to pick up cups from all over the ship so often. A bunch of the crew has offered to help.”
“And Mr. Vorhees is making a cake?” Fredi asked.
“Yes, sar.” She nodded. “He makes the most amazing cakes, but only for special occasions.”
Mel and Fredi shared a look.
“Mr. Vorhees is a man of hidden talents, it seems,” Mel commented dryly.
“What time’s the party?” I asked.
“20:00, after we’ve had a chance to get the dinner mess cleaned up.”
“Did you have much trouble rounding up people to help?” Arletta asked.
Penny shook her head. “No, sar. After people saw this place, and how nice it looks now, everybody wanted to help fix up the mess deck too.” By then she’d finished serving and stood back with her tray. “Is there anything else I can get you, sars?”
“No, thank you, Ms. Davies,” Mel said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
She ducked her head almost shyly and left through the pantry.
“Will wonders never cease?” I said as I tucked into dinner.
“Ishmael?” Mel asked. “Was this what you expected when you brought this up over breakfast today?”
I shook my head. “No, I just thought maybe we could get the wardroom looking a bit better. Mr. Vorhees mentioned his problem with cups, so it seemed like a good way to ease into bringing up the state of the mess.” I shrugged, gingerly. “The rest is history.”
“How’d it spread?” Fredi asked.
“Ulla and Penny are bunkies,” Arletta said. “Ishmael is taking on a certain romantic flavor with some of our younger and more impressionable female crew.”
“Oh, not just the younger ones,” Fredi said with a wink in my direction.
I sighed. “This is getting out of hand.”
Mel grinned. “Ishmael, we’re only ten days into a ten week trip. If you think it’s bad now, wait until we get to Breakall.”
“I was hoping things would calm down as the novelty wore off.”
“It better or you may not live to see Breakall,” Arletta said darkly.
Mel and Fredi thought she was kidding and chuckled. I knew she wasn’t.
Knowing that there was a party planned, we didn’t dawdle over dinner. Ms. Davies seemed pleased when she came back with the desserts at 19:15 and we were ready for them. I just took coffee, and Arletta excused herself entirely. “Midwatch and I’ll need a nap,” she said with a smile.
Fredi and Mel each had pie with their coffee, and I sat with them while they ate.
I wanted to ask Mel about Burnside but I didn’t know how to broach the subject. It’s not like a junior officer can actually complain about a senior officer to another senior officer without repercussions.
“I discovered something today that I hadn’t expected,” I announced to the table at large.
Mel looked up thoughtfully. “I suspect you did, Ishmael,” she said with a careful expression on her face. “Care to share?”
“It’s not our ship,” I said.
Fredi and Mel both stared at me like I’d grown a second—or possibly third—head. Fredi spoke first. “Meaning what?” she asked.
“I had a discussion with my watch on the bridge this afternoon. They were concerned that it might not be appropriate for them to assist with the mess deck cleanup this evening.”
“That must have been early in the watch, because that movement was gaining momentum by 15:00,” Mel said.
“It was,” I agreed. “But I was pole axed when they questioned me whether or not it would be proper to offer to help. It’s not their job, not their duty station, so they were concerned that somebody might think—I’m not sure what. That somehow it would be inappropriate for a non-mess hand to work on cleaning up
the mess deck.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Fredi chipped in. “The emphasis here is do your job and mind your business. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a ship this dysfunctional.”
“It’s because they don’t think it’s their ship,” I said. “They don’t clean it. They don’t care for it. They don’t care for each other. It’s not their ship.”
“Well, it’s not their ship,” Mel said. “It belongs to the company.”
“Yes, but that’s the point. All the ships everywhere belong to somebody, and it’s almost never the crew. Only the family co-ops are the exceptions.”
They nodded in agreement before Mel asked, “So what’s the point, Ishmael?”
“The point is that every other ship I’ve ever been on, from the Lois McKendrick to the Bad Penny, and through all the summer cruises, every other crew saw the ship as theirs. My ship. My crew. My duty. My responsibility. My family, even.” I looked at them to see if they understood what I was saying.
Mel looked skeptical. “Isn’t that a bit metaphysical for this bunch?”
I shook my head. “It’s not a conscious decision, or I’d agree with you. I think there’s something that makes most people identify with their ship. Before the Billy, I would have said everybody, but it was clear that my bridge crew has no connection to the ship—other than a place to move from A to B while being sexually assaulted and harassed.”
Fredi stiffened at that but Mel said, “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it, Ishmael?”
“Not to Ms. D’Heng,” I said. “Not to Ulla Nart. Not to Theresa Jaffee.”
“Harassed, maybe…but sexual assault?” she pressed.
“Yes,” Fredi said softly. “That’s the correct term.”
Mel looked at Fredi curiously but didn’t press the matter, instead she turned back to me. “So, what’s your conclusion, Ishmael?”
“If it’s not their ship then they’re not really crew. Just a bunch of people who happen to work in the same place. No unity. No interdependence. It becomes easy to beat up on each other. Easy to have a ‘what’s in it for me’ attitude.”
Mel said, “Well, it’s my ship.”
“Mine, too,” I told her. “But you said yourself that it’s difficult getting them to wear clean shipsuits. I think that’s why. They’re all just drifting through. Until somebody gets hurt and then that person leaves.”
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