Double Share: Solar Clipper Trader Tales

by Nathan Lowell

  It was odd, really, that the food on the summer cruises wasn’t all that memorable. Some of the ships had good food, some were mediocre, but none of them really stayed with me as much as Cookie’s spiced beefalo casserole. I was half inclined to pay the galley a little visit and talk about recipes, but given the session in the cabin, I thought that keeping my head down, and my nose pointing straight ahead, might be a better idea. After all, the food wasn’t bad—just not good.

  Conversation offered little refuge to the meal. Burnside’s concept of polite table manners was difficult to talk over, and his contributions to the discourse usually consisted of inarticulate grunts and the odd belch. Fredi, as was her habit, sat hunched over her plate while Burnside was in the room, and Mel just occasionally smiled sadly in my direction.

  Still, on the bright side, he had been on watch as often as Arletta and I, so we managed to have some lively and enjoyable meals when he had the duty. Even Ms. Davies seemed more relaxed.

  Through the course of the meal, he never referred to the interview with the captain or indicated that anything at all had happened between my leaving the bridge and appearing in the wardroom. Yet, I knew that he was upset, and I couldn’t help but fret over all the ways he could attack me.

  Luncheon ended in good time, and Burnside left the wardroom with his usual lack of grace. When he’d left, Fredi said, “There are few things so constant in this universe.” Then she snorted a small laugh through her nose.

  “More’s the pity,” Mel agreed and turned to me. “So, did the captain call you down to the cabin?”

  I blinked at her a bit stupidly before finally saying, “Yes. Why?”

  She smiled. “You had that look when you came in.”

  Fredi, who was already sitting up straighter, added, “And it’s his pattern.”

  She turned to look at me carefully.

  “Are you all right, Ishmael?” she asked after a moment.

  “I think so. At least for the moment, but I didn’t make any friends in the exchange.”

  Fredi gave a little shrug at that. “Nobody does.”

  “Any insights into that subject we talked about in my office, Ishmael?” Mel asked.

  “Some significant progress, in fact. I just need a few more stans to finish up, but I’m feeling pretty confident that the next time the Bumble Brothers bother me, I’ll be ready.”

  Fredi smiled a crooked grin. “You heard that name, huh?”

  “Yeah, my watch section is a wealth of information.”

  Mel and Fredi both chuckled.

  Penny Davies came in to clear, and we all stood and helped her load up the first tray before getting out of her way. As we stepped out into the passageway, Fredi stopped me with a friendly hand on my forearm.

  “Be careful. Now that the captain has had a chance to reprimand you on the record, David has fewer constraints,” she said softly.

  She looked up into my eyes and I realized just how short she was.

  “Not that he had all that many before,” she said with a trace of bitterness.

  “Thanks, Fredi, I’ll be as careful as I can.” I shrugged. “But if he wants me badly enough, he’ll do it when I’m asleep in my bunk—with no witnesses.”

  She nodded, just a little rocking of her head up and down.

  “Yes,” was all she said before turning to head down the passage toward her stateroom.

  I checked the chrono and I had about four stans before watch: time for a short nap followed by a long run. I headed back for my stateroom and pulled out my tablet to set an alarm. That was when I noticed that the intercom in the cabin was still open. I triggered the microphone off and wondered what I’d recorded.

  On the one hand, I was horrified that I’d left it that long. It was one thing to record my conversations with the captain. I had a feeling I might need them. The ethics of self-defense had priority, but it was another to record conversations that I had no part in.

  I could easily find part of my brain that said, “Just because you’re not in the room, doesn’t mean they’re not plotting against you.” There was another part that recoiled from the idea that I might be a person who bugged the ship. A few stans before I had been paranoid over who was listening.

  Would anybody be happy to find out that it was me?

  There was also the issue of legality. Was it illegal for me to record people without their knowledge? In a corporately owned vessel in the Deep Dark was there any real expectation of privacy?

  A cold chill raced down the small of my back. Would I be in more trouble if I produced the recordings than not? Considering what I thought the group might be capable of, I wasn’t sure.

  I stumbled back to my stateroom, peeled off my shipsuit, and crawled into my bunk, pulling the covers over me. The conflicting demands of self-defense and ethical behavior warred with each other. I didn’t know if I could sleep, but the narrow circle of concern ended with a dark curtain of exhaustion.

  Say what you will about the watch stander merry-go-round. After over a month in the Deep Dark, your body will sleep if it can. Minor concerns like ethical conflicts will not stand in its way.

  A small sudden sound woke me with a start. I lay there blinking and listening, trying to make out where the noise had come from, when my tablet bee-bee-beeped again. I punched the alarm off and let my breath out. The chrono read 16:00 and I wanted to run before I got ready for watch. That much stress was a heavy load to carry, and I knew from extended experience how to bleed that off.

  I was glad to see Lignaria stretching when I got to the gym. The lanky engineman had been my running companion on more than one occasion. She was in the third watch as well, but as power section watch stander, her duty station was in engineering central.

  “Ah, somebody to run with!” I said.

  “Sure, sar. These six-on-six-off-six-on days are a killer, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I answered with a rueful grin. “Intellectually, I know that it’s only eighteen stans from start to finish and with a little nap in the middle, it’s really not that bad, but some days it sure seems like a long day, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, sar,” she agreed. “Very long.”

  She finished her warm up and started up a treadmill. While she was occupied with that, I triggered the local intercom to record anything that might happen in the room. I did a few stretches of my own, then stepped on the machine and fired up my favorite program. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lignaria casting little glances my way and grinning.

  I smiled and asked, “Is there something funny, Ms. Lignaria? Do I have my shorts on backward?”

  “No, sar, although your shirt is wrong-side out,” she answered.

  I glanced down at the sleeve and saw she was right.

  “So much for the dignity of officers.”

  “Sar? I don’t think you ever need to worry about that,” she said.

  “What are you trying to tell me, Ms. Lignaria?” I asked with a mock frown. “I have no dignity to begin with?”

  She blushed a little, or maybe it was the running that was coloring the back of her neck.

  “No, sar, that’s not what I meant. I was just thinking of Mosler calling you a ‘girly man’ and—” She stopped then, and a look of panic skittered across her face.

  I recognized the look. It’s the one I probably got when I discovered I was about two-thirds of the way across a conversational mine field, and I really didn’t want to take that next step. The look that I probably got when I realized that the only thing keeping me from stepping on the mine was the fact that my foot was firmly planted in my mouth.

  She cleared her throat and looked straight ahead.

  “That is, sar, I can’t believe he’d think you were a girly man.”

  “I can’t believe he’d pull up such a stupid phrase and think it was in any way insulting,” I answered, trying to put her at ease. “I mean how do you follow that? ‘Doo-doo head’?”

  The ludicrousness caught her by surprise and
she barked a single laugh.

  We slapped along awhile in silence before she glanced at me again.

  “Can I ask a personal question, sar?”

  “I reserve the right not to answer,” I told her with a smile, “but sure.”

  “You really had ratings in all divisions?”

  “Yup, when I started out, circumstances forced me into taking a job on the mess deck of the Lois McKendrick over in the Dunsany Roads quadrant. I didn’t like being helpless—being in a position where I had to take whatever job was available.”

  I glanced at her and she nodded her understanding.

  “I liked being aboard ship, and I figured the best way to make sure I could stay there was to become qualified so I could work as many different jobs as I could.”

  “Makes sense, sar, but why not just climb the one division’s ladder?”

  “It was a trade off. Keep in mind that I was a land rat. I had no background in space at all. Being a spacer was almost totally incomprehensible to me. I reasoned, for whatever it’s worth, that it would be faster to get two or three half share ratings than a half and a full. I learned a lot about ship’s operations that way.”

  “You don’t come from a spacer family, sar?” she asked, genuine curiosity obvious on her face.

  I shook my head.

  “No. My mother taught ancient literature at the University of Neris before she died.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said reflexively.

  I nodded to acknowledge her response, but continued my train of thought.

  “I had to learn everything the hard way—as an outsider.”

  “I’m surprised you got on a ship at all, sar. There aren’t that many people who can get through the Union Hall. You almost always have to know somebody or have some experience.”

  “I didn’t know that at the time. Nobody told me I couldn’t, so I just went ahead and applied anyway.”

  She chuckled at that and we lapsed into a friendly silence. Soon, the hum of the treadmill’s motor and the slap-slap-slap of my feet on the spinning tread took me into that quiet place in my mind and I just ran.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  BREAKALL SYSTEM

  2358-AUGUST-26

  We were only two weeks out of Breakall before I completed the software hack that automatically turned on the intercoms when I moved from one space to another within the ship. I’d discovered some dead spots in the process and even—out of boredom more than anything—added a patch to turn on the lights when I entered my stateroom. In all that time, nobody else had ever turned on a microphone.

  The study sessions continued to meet on the mess deck every day. A couple of the crew had to step back and re-evaluate their progress toward skipping a rating. I thought it was interesting that it was something they did among themselves and then told me about it after they decided.

  A few people—mostly Mosler and Apones—still glowered. They really didn’t like it that their ability to intimidate their shipmates was so severely curtailed. It was good to see the crew becoming more cohesive, more supportive of each other. I smiled thinking that perhaps it was going to work out after all.

  “Something funny, sar?” Juliett asked, breaking into my reverie.

  “Yes, Ms. Jaxton. I was just thinking about being a ‘girly man’ and how much things have changed in the last few weeks.”

  “You’re considering a change, then, sar?” she asked with that twinkle in her smile. “Gonna jump the fence?”

  Charlotte snorted from the other side of the bridge.

  “You have some contribution, Ms. D’Heng?” I asked.

  “No, sar. Not me, sar,” she looked up from her tablet grinning.

  “So, tell me.” I said. “What’s the news below decks?”

  The two women exchanged glances and Juliett shrugged.

  “News, sar?” Charlotte asked. “Is there anything in particular you’re interested in?”

  I looked back and forth between them, not sure how far I could push. “How’s life aboard?” I asked. “Has it gotten any better?”

  It was apparently Juliett’s turn to snort. “I don’t think it could have gotten much worse, sar.”

  Running some of the more egregious possibilities through my mind, I wondered if she was being a bit naive.

  Charlotte picked up from Juliett’s lead. “We haven’t had anybody seriously injured or killed this trip.”

  “Yet,” Juliett added.

  “True,” Charlotte responded with a small nod, “but except for a couple of the stupider members of the crew, I think there’s a lot less tension. Getting people together on the mess deck in the afternoon has done a lot for morale.” She shrugged.

  Juliett added, “It’s made a difference in the berthing areas.” She looked at me with a kind of apologetic half smile. “There’s a lot less bunk jumping. People seem to be pairing up…”

  Charlotte coughed.

  “Well, that’s probably not the right word…forming groups?” she looked at Charlotte who shrugged agreement. “At any rate there’s less random carnality, with the accompanying bad feelings and black eyes.”

  I blinked and decided I really did not need to know what kind of circumstance led to “random carnality” in the first place. I couldn’t decide if it was something specific to the Billy or if bunk bunny culture was inherently askew.

  “It’s harder to get into a bunk where you’re not wanted these days, that’s for sure,” Charlotte said. “Especially if it’s already full,” she added with a wink.

  I couldn’t be sure if Juliett blushed or not. She was paying very close attention to her helm.

  “I see,” I said, although I really didn’t. “Thank you for that insight.”

  “You’re welcome, sar,” Charlotte said. “Any time.”

  I settled back down to my watch logs while Juliett and Charlotte returned to their studies.

  When 17:45 rolled up, Burnside and Mallory clambered onto the bridge. Perhaps I was just being paranoid, but I couldn’t help but brace myself. He just walked over to the watch stander position and flopped into the chair. For once he didn’t stink of sex, but he didn’t look all that lively either.

  “Ship is on course and on tar—,” I started to say.

  “I relieve you,” he interrupted, and then he put his head back and closed his eyes.

  I shrugged and followed Juliett down the ladder. We separated at the passageway. She headed to the mess deck and I made a beeline for my stateroom. We had twelve stans off and I didn’t need to be back on duty until 06:00 the next morning. I looked forward to cleaning up, having a good meal, and then a solid night’s sleep. I was firmly into a routine, and even passing Simon in the passageway outside the cabin no longer seemed strange to me.

  Dinner in the wardroom was a convivial affair to begin with. Arletta and I arrived a bit early and Fredi was already there with her tablet open and reading. She put it away when we breezed in the door.

  “How are you, Fredi?” I asked.

  “Fine.” She smiled. “Just catching up on the sector’s trading situation. Hasn’t changed much since the last time we were here.”

  Mel joined us with a warm smile and a hearty, “Good evening! How is every one?” she asked while walking around to her place, patting Fredi on the shoulder as she passed.

  Arletta looked alert and rested, as well she might. She was on her day off and hadn’t had to deal with the ship that much. She returned Mel’s smile with a grin and said, “A few more days and we can get off this tub for a while.”

  “Aw,” Mel said with mock sadness. “You don’t like Billy?”

  “It’s not that,” Arletta said with a wicked grin. “I just think we should see other people.”

  Penny Davies brought in the trays and we set to. There wasn’t a lot of gusto but it was filling and warm. That counted. I also think I was finally getting to the point where the food was the food, and my mind wasn’t looking for more than minimum requirements. Whatever else one might f
ind fault with, the food was always filling and warm.

  It was a typical Burnside-free meal with fun companions and pleasant banter. For all my dark trepidations about the ship, I felt a little foolish about my concerns. Afterward I headed back to my stateroom, and began taking advantage of the long break between watches by stripping down to my skivvies and crawling into my bunk. I must have been tired because I don’t remember actually lying down.

  When the tap-tap-tap on my stateroom door woke me, I immediately thought I’d overslept and missed relieving the watch. It’s one of those recurring nightmares that plague watch standers, like missing the final exam haunts students. The little spike of adrenalin left me confused but I managed to say, “Yeah?” loudly enough to be heard on the other side ,while I was still blinking my eyes into focus.

  I heard a woman’s voice say, “Mr. Wang? It’s Davies.”

  “One tick,” I told her and scrambled out of my bunk and into a shipsuit. The chrono said 22:50.

  When I opened the door, Penny Davies was standing there nervously looking both ways up and down the passageway. She glanced at my face but said, “Sorry, to bother you, sar, but may I come in?”

  I backed into my stateroom to give her a chance to enter.

  She slipped in with another glance at my face and a grateful smile. She closed the door behind her and I had a moment of doubt. She didn’t come any farther into the room than was absolutely necessary, but stood there just inside the door playing with her fingers nervously and looking down.

  “Okay, Ms. Davies,” I prompted softly, “I’m almost awake. What’s up?” I backed up a little farther, but didn’t sit. I didn’t want to sit on the bunk and the side chair was the only other seat.