Quarter Share

  Unfortunately, it also cost twice what I had and weighed almost three full kilos.

  Bev shrugged. “Costs nothing to look. You’ll be full share soon and you won’t be worried about mass so much.”

  Eventually, we both got hungry, thirsty, and tired, so we sauntered down to a little bistro on level eight that catered to the flea market trade. They had some hearty sandwiches of thinly sliced and sautéed beefalo, onions, peppers and cheese on crusty rolls. We each got one and I couldn’t resist sampling the coffee. Beverly bought a beer and we rested our tired feet for almost a whole stan before heading to the ship.

  When we got back to berthing, I changed into a fresh shipsuit and hung the belts in my locker along with my civvies. Beverly stowed her purchases as well but went out with some of the bridge crew for what I suspected would be more of a pub-crawl than a shopping jaunt. I went up to the galley to see what was happening.

  Cookie and Pip were stowing the buckets of Sarabanda Dark and I walked in just in time to help them lock down the last load. I whistled at the quantity. “That’s a lot of coffee.”

  He wiped the sweat off his face with a towel. “You have no idea.”

  Cookie consulted his tablet. “That’s the last of our trade stores.” He looked up smiling. “These should be very useful.”

  Pip looked it over and shook his head. “I hope so. If this doesn’t work we’re going to be drinking a lot of Sarabanda.” He turned to me. “How was liberty?”

  “Fun. I went shopping.”

  Cookie looked up. “Shopping? For what?”

  “Well, nothing, really. I ran into Bev at the lock and she dragged me up to the flea market on level nine. We’ve been up there all day wandering from stall to stall.”

  “Bev? Our Big Bad Beverly goes to the flea market?”

  “Hey, she’s a good person to go with. Nobody messed with us.”

  Cookie chuckled. “I can see where Ms. Arith would be able to provide a security buffer.”

  “She dickers pretty well, too. At least I think it was good. I can’t haggle for squat.”

  Pip looked interested. “What’d she buy?”

  “Belts. Beautiful leather belts. I got some, too.”

  “Belts?”

  I nodded. “There was this little old lady working them on a bench right there in the flea market. She had a big rack of them. She was asking twenty creds each, or three for fifty. Bev got her down to a hundred creds for eight.”

  Pip nodded appreciatively. “Not bad. Twelve and a half each, but that’s a lot of cred for a belt.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, but they are gorgeous.”

  Cookie broke in, “We’re done here. Why don’t you take your break?”

  I took him down to my locker and took out the bundle of belts. I spread them out on my bunk so Pip could get a good look. He picked up each one, examining it, front and back, and running the lengths through his hands. He flexed them and even smelled them.

  “If you start tasting it, I’m gonna make you buy it.” I was only half joking.

  He grinned. “This is excellent stuff. This is beefalo leather but it’s been expertly tanned and the workmanship on these patterns—well, you just don’t see that these days. Mostly it’s punched out by machine. This is real hand tooled stuff, all of it.”

  I nodded. “She was doing the work right there on a bench in her booth.”

  “Yeah, but that’s usually just the come-on. Typically, when you actually look at the goods on the racks, you find that those aren’t any more hand-tooled than I am. These are the real thing.”

  I shrugged.

  “You say she had a whole rack?”

  “Yup. Probably had a hundred belts on it. All kinds of patterns. Bev and I commented that while some of them were similar, we never did find two alike.”

  “None of them had buckles?”

  “No, they’re all just like this with the snaps and punch work so you can add your own. Some were a bit longer, some a bit shorter, but all about the same width and every one of them was this gorgeous leather.”

  Pip just stroked the belts for a moment. “How much did the eight add to your mass?”

  “Half a kilo.”

  He nodded. “Where was this booth?”

  I told him and I could see him getting that look in his eye so I wasn’t surprised when he asked, “How much mass are you willing to invest? How many creds you got?”

  I checked my allotment accounts. “I’ve got about ten kilos and four hundred creds. I’m willing to throw half that into the pool.”

  “Me, too. Okay, we have more mass than money. Are you willing to invest some more in belts?”

  “You think it’s worth it? How many can we sell?”

  He grinned. “I don’t know. It’s always a gamble. I don’t wanna hurt Bev’s market, but these…” he indicated the belts arrayed on my bunk, “are something special. If you were able to buy eight for a hundred in the middle of the trading day, she might be willing to give a better near closing with more cash on the line. If we could buy eighty of them that would be five kilos, but at ten a piece, it’d be eight hundred creds and we don’t have that kinda cash. I doubt that she’d be willing to go below ten creds, even on a bulk deal. Between us we’ve got about four hundred creds. If she’ll go down to ten, that’s forty belts and two and a half kilos.”

  I shrugged. I could follow his logic, but this was all new. It’s one thing to speculate idly over what to buy and what to sell. This was actual creds and real risk. Then I remembered the pallets of Sarabanda Dark down in the pantry and realized that what had been idle speculation for me had real implications for Pip. I used my tablet to transfer two hundred creds to his account. “Go for it.” That evening I went to the holos with Diane Ardele and Gregor Avery from the environmental section. Gregor was a skinny spec three who’d been with the ship for only a stanyer but was already looking for a new berth.

  “Oh, I like the Lois well enough,” he spoke with a kind of whispery voice. “But I’d really like to get on one of the big tankers. The crews are smaller and the shares are bigger.”

  We discussed the relative merits of various berths all the way to the theater and back. Well, I like the Lois because we don’t have to worry about snakes in our bunks,” Diane added her opinion to the mix.

  Gregor laughed but I didn’t get the joke.

  I looked puzzled. “Snakes? I’ve not seen any animals creeping around the Lois, are there usually snakes and mice and such?”

  Gregor roared and Diane blushed. “On most ships yes, but not the way you’re thinking.”

  I was still completely confused. “Okay, I’m sure I’m missing something.”

  Gregor stepped closer to me before speaking quietly, “Some vessels have a liberal policy on fraternization.”

  I was puzzled for a moment then enlightenment hit me. “Oh, you mean…?”

  They nodded.

  Diane shrugged. “I like men as well as the next girl, but engineering berthing isn’t even my fifth choice for a romantic interlude.”

  Gregor nodded. “Those partitions are thin.”

  I blushed thinking about Tabitha and her little snorty-snores, grateful that there hadn’t been the sounds of fraternization as well. I was also glad that we had made it back to the ship and we each went our separate ways before I had any more opportunity to think about fraternization and Diane.

  Pip was reading in his bunk when I got there. “Hey, how was the show?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing to write home about. Change of pace from you and Cookie, but let’s just say, when they release it on holo-cube, it’s not one I’ll be buying.”

  He nodded and went back to his reading.

  I was almost asleep when Bev came in from her pub-crawl. “Hey, boy toy.” She greeted me playfully, but didn’t say anything else before falling into her bunk still fully clothed and started snoring softly.

  I could feel Pip looking at me. I glanced over and he mouthed “boy toy” with raised eyebrow
s. I just groaned, shut off my light, and rolled into my blankets.

  Chapter 18

  Gugara Orbital

  2351-December-11

  Having the duty was almost a relief. I admit I liked being able to come and go, and I enjoyed getting to know some of the people I’d only seen in the mess line better. The only drawback was that I felt compelled to take advantage of being able to leave, even when I didn’t have a good reason to go. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed the day out and about on the station, but it still felt good to take a bit of refuge in the ship.

  Pip joined us for breakfast, and other than a few waggled eyebrows in my direction, didn’t mention the boy toy incident again. After he ate, he rushed out. “Gotta see a lady about a belt,” he said waving as he left.

  When he was gone, I settled into the comfortable routine of port-side mess deck duty. Cookie and I split the omelet duties and I helped him make the soup stock for lunch by peeling the onions and carrots. I hung around and he gave me pointers on making biscuits. By the time he was finished showing me his tricks we made too many for lunch, but he smiled and explained, “We’ll have traditional biscuits and gravy for breakfast tomorrow. They’ll be perfect for that.”

  After lunch, I settled into a chair on the mess deck with my tablet and a fresh cup of coffee. I started looking over the food handler information. It didn’t look any more difficult than the cargo handler, but I remembered how the actual exam had taken some less than straightforward twists. I tried to think about what the steward exam might do along those lines. I hadn’t realized before just how pleasant the mess was to relax on. The seats were unpadded but still comfortable, even though they were bolted to the tables. The coffee was close by, and Cookie’s rummaging in the kitchen and occasional humming made it seem homey. Occasionally somebody would stop by for some coffee or one of the pastries that Cookie left out while we were in port. Sometimes they’d stop and talk, other times they just nodded and continue on their way. I found it an exceptionally pleasant way to spend the afternoon.

  Dinnertime rolled around and Cookie put together a baked pasta dish with beefalo and a soft white cheese made locally on Gugara. I took a couple of loaves of Cookie’s yeast bread and made garlic loaves, grilling them gently before chopping them into rough chunks and tumbling them into a towel-lined basket on the buffet-style serving line. Set up, service, and take down were easy and clean up was finished by 19:00. I went to the gym and ran a few laps before ducking into the sauna.

  When I got back to the berthing area, Pip was waiting with a bundle of belts draped off the side of his bunk and a huge grin across his face. “My gods, how many did you buy?” I asked in amazement.

  “Eighty.” He beamed. “Well, eighty-one, actually.”

  “What? How’d you do that?”

  “I found Drus right where you said.”

  “Drus?”

  “Yeah, Drus Martin. That’s the woman you met. You were right. That rack of belts was spectacular. I talked to her near closing and told her I wanted to buy a bunch to take off-planet for trade and asked for a wholesale price. We haggled for a while until the market closed. I helped her pack up and push her grav-pallet while we continued to barter.” Pip paused to chuckle. “She’s a salty old bird, but I’ve gotta give ya credit, you know quality goods when you see them, Ishmael, old boy. At one point, I mentioned that you and Bev had bought eight each yesterday. I forget how it came up. Something about the price she could take before her husband would beat her or something.”

  I snorted. “She used that same line on us.”

  “Anyway, she stops and says, ‘Butchy looking fem? Black leathers and an attitude with a skinny boy toy in tow?’”

  I groaned because Pip was enjoying this way too much.

  “I told her, ‘Yeah, that’s them.’ By then we’re at her storage locker on level five and she opens it up to move the bench in for the night. My gods, Ish, that place was stuffed with belts. She points out like three bales rolled up against the bulkhead. There had to be three or four hundred of them. She says, ‘For the woman and her boy I will do this. Pick any eighty, and I’ll let you have them for four hundred, final offer, but you have to take them off-station.’”

  “Wow, that’s incredible. But wait, I thought you said you got eighty-one?”

  He nodded. “I did. While I was picking out the belts, and you probably know as well as I do that there wasn’t a bad one in the bunch, she was busy at her bench. I didn’t think too much about it. I was busy pulling out different versions and trying to keep track of how many I had selected. All the while I wished I had enough money to take them all, and the aroma of leather made my head spin. It was amazing.” Pip talked so fast, I thought he might tangle his tongue and strangle himself.

  “So anyway, after about a quarter stan, I gave up trying to pick and choose and just started adding at random until I had eighty and we signed the chits and transferred the funds. That was so much less nerve-wracking than dealing with cash. So, I’m bundling up the belts to bring back when she hands me the one that she had been working on. ‘Your friend, he was a nice boy,’ she says as she gives it to me. ‘This is for him,’ she says.”

  Pip pulled a single belt from the bunch and handed it to me. It was exquisite. Expertly crafted premium leather with an ivy vine pattern running the full length. I’d never seen anything quite so beautiful. Looking closer I could see some lettering in the middle of the vines in an ornate script that blended with the curves of the vines and leaves it read, “Boy Toy”.

  Pip was killing himself with laughter, but I didn’t care. The belt was beautiful and she’d made it just for me.

  “Wait,” I said, “you got eighty belts for four hundred creds?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s just five creds each!”

  He nodded again. “Yup.” He grinned obviously inordinately proud of himself.

  “What if we can’t sell ’em on Margary?”

  He shrugged. “I hope we don’t sell them all. We’ll need to let a few go to get some capital, but these are going to be worth a fortune on St. Cloud.”

  I stood there dumbfounded while leaning on my bunk, turning the supple leather over and over in my hands. My fingers traced the textures that the old woman, Drus, had pressed into it.

  After a few ticks I remembered something. “What about the rugs and robes idea? I saw some of those at the flea market and you’re right about the mass, although they were nice. The fur was much softer than I’d expected.”

  “I added them to the list for the empty container. They took up the last of the cash and the final mass allotments almost perfectly. I still believe they’re the right cargo for Margary and thought the ship may as well get some advantage from them.”

  “You think he’s actually going to do it?” He knew I referred to Mr. Maxwell.

  Pip shook his head. “No, I doubt it. That’s a lot of creds to gamble on the advice of someone of my rank.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense. Maybe it’s a trial. See what you can come up with, but not actually follow through. As you said, that’s a lot of creds.”

  “I’m relieved actually. If he’d done it and it went badly, I’d feel really guilty about reducing share.”

  “Yeah, but the flip side is that if it goes empty, it doesn’t contribute anything.”

  Pip shrugged. “True, but we already have a lot riding on this leg, our belts, the extra stores, if there was also a container that I picked. Man, that’s a lot for one lowly attendant to take responsibility for.” He grinned but I thought his smile looked a little wistful at the edges.

  Chapter 19

  Gugara Orbital

  2351-December-13

  The next morning we left Gugara en route to Margary. To mark the occasion, Cookie brought out a bucket of the Sarabanda Dark and I made one urn with it when we set the normal watch. He even had those little signs on chains like you see in coffee bars, one read, “Djartmo Arabasti” and the other, “Sarabanda Dark.” He laughed in
delight when I hung them on the valves.

  It was a short trip, twenty-one standays out to the Burleson limit, but Margary Station was only seven more on the other side. Durations are dictated by the placement of the system’s primary station in relation to the system’s center of gravitational mass. We had to get far enough out of the system's gravity well to allow the jump drives to bend space. The calculations were complicated and based on the ship's mass, the system's mass, the power rating on the drives, the distance we planned to jump, and I wasn't sure what else. In effect, it meant we needed to sail right out to the edge of the Deep Dark.

  Every system has a limited sphere where planets can support life. This habitable zone exists as a spherical shell around the primary star. Its location depends on the size and temperature of the star, but that area is usually deep in the system’s gravity well where the jump drives can’t operate. Normally, an orbital holds a geostationary orbit over a habitable planet, which means there is a long transit time between it and the jump point, twenty to thirty days was not uncommon.

  Margary was an exception because there is no suitable planet in the habitable zone. Margary Station is out on the edge of the system because it orbits the star. The bulk of the population live in an asteroid belt just outside the orbit of the second of two gas giant planets and the station was positioned to serve them. We didn’t have to claw all the way into the gravity well to get there or out again. As a result the run from Gugara to Margary was a short one.

  We were all in good spirits on the way out of Gugara. I felt relaxed and refreshed after my short excursions on the orbital, and enjoyed the new tasks in the galley working with Cookie. I found myself excited to start the food handler exam and thought about trying the ordinary spacer test as well. Pip still celebrated his deal on the belts and occasionally ribbed me with comments about boy toy, although never when Beverly was around. The stores accounting hadn’t been included on the trip into Gugara but the savings would be factored into the shares when we got to Margary. The total didn’t amount to much, but every little bit helped.