Double Share: Solar Clipper Trader Tales

  “Okay, everybody,” I said when the initial jubilation had run its course. “You got a boost, but now you need to buckle down. If you go through the lessons, do the exercises as you go, and pay attention to what you’re doing, you’ll be fine. There’s still a few weeks left to study and not a lot else going on here, so you should have plenty of time to learn enough to jump a rank.”

  They all looked so jubilant, I felt like I needed to temper their expectations.

  “Remember that if you pass you only earn the rating, which only means you can apply for a better position. The ship’s not obligated to hire you for one, nor pay you at the higher rating for your current post,” I said as sternly as I could, looking around the table.

  Juliett said, “Are you kidding, sar? With the turnover we have, jobs get refilled at almost every port.”

  “Still,” I said, “don’t get too excited. It will qualify you for more positions, but you’re still going to have to convince the people who hire spacers that you’re a good shipmate.”

  The smiles around the table still blinded me, but I was cautiously optimistic that the message had gotten through.

  “Okay, I’ve got the watch tomorrow afternoon, but why don’t we plan to meet again the day after?” I said. “If you have any questions, need any advice, or would like some feedback other than what the tablets give you, see me then, okay?”

  Nods bobbed around the table and I headed back to my stateroom to get changed. It was almost 15:30 and that gave me enough time for a good workout before dinner. As I left the mess deck, I noticed that Apones had disappeared as well. Perhaps he got bored, but I thought it more likely that he’d gone to report to David Burnside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  DIURNIA SYSTEM

  2358-AUGUST-10

  Once you get into the routine of being underway, the ticktock of the watch cycle, wake—work—sleep—repeat, makes it hard to have awareness. Usually this shift to grayness, the brain blur, is disconcerting. I had always felt it was a kind of mixed blessing. On the one hand, if you were really aware of every day as it crawled past—every one identical—nothing really changing except the meal on your plate: same people, same clothes, same activities, day after day after day—you’d probably just step out an airlock from the boredom. On the other hand, there was a kind of mental buffering that protected you from realizing just how many days had passed, and how many were left. The internal buffer just refreshes without a lot of effort or thought.

  Wake—work—sleep—repeat.

  As a crewman, I’d thought of this as the merry-go-round of watch standing. Your world shrinks to the people who are in your watch section—awake when you are, eating when you do, going to the gym when you are. The rest of the crew is on the other side of the carousel and, while you can catch glimpses of them between the horses, you really don’t get much chance to do more than wave. People who were day workers, like the mess deck crew, were like the people watching the merry-go-round spin. You’d see everyone, but never really stop to talk as they swung by, once per revolution.

  On the Tinker, as an officer isolated in the wardroom and stateroom, my world shrank even more. Say what you will about the lack of privacy in the berthing areas, at least there were people around. Mel and Fredi were constants at meal times, when I could get to the wardroom to eat. Arletta and I became really good friends. Something about sharing a head, I think. It’s hard to maintain romantic illusions when digestion and its by-products get involved. It was just as well. I certainly didn’t want to open that door with all the rest of the bunk jumping that appeared to be going on in the ship. Without the mental blur, I might have found it depressing.

  Juliett and Charlotte were the only people I saw regularly for any amount of time. I have to give them a lot of credit for keeping me amused. Juliett had a dry quick-wittedness about her that could find something bitingly humorous in the darkest situation. Charlotte was one of those unnaturally upbeat people who seemed to smile all the time and who could find the joy in the most mundane of activities. They helped make the blur tolerable. I’d like to think I held up my end as well.

  The thing about the blur is that it really doesn’t take a lot to break it.

  Something will happen and it’s like a sudden noise in the night. You go from asleep to awake all at once. Sometimes you’re aware of what it was that you heard, and sometimes you wake to only the memory of noise with no conscious awareness of what it might have been. About thirty-two days out of Diurnia and only a couple away from transition, I woke up from the blur when I stepped onto the mess deck for our afternoon tutorial session and I realized that almost every table had somebody at it.

  Granted, Apones monopolized one of the tables in his usual position against the far bulkhead. It was his unofficial watch station when first section had the duty. He never said anything, just glowered at me and the group. For our part, we ignored him.

  Still, looking around the mess deck, I realized that this wasn’t something new. The numbers had been growing for weeks. From that first four, we picked up a lot of crew from the engineering staff. That wasn’t surprising, given how many of them were aboard. The only people from the deck division who weren’t involved were the astrogation spec two’s—De Silva—and Apones, who may as well have been participating, given the amount of time he spent glaring. Even Mallory, the first section’s helm watch, participated on days when he wasn’t on duty. He worked on his spec one in ship handling.

  I drew a mug of fresh coffee and started circulating. My fear that I’d wind up as some kind of teacher standing up in front of the group never materialized. When we’d out grown one table—which we did by the second meeting—we split up by division and then by level. Ulla and Charlotte had their heads together over the able spacer test. Betts and Jaxton worked on spec two in ship handling. Three enginemen, Lignaria and VanDalon from power, and Cottonwood from environmental, studied spec three power. Xhang worked on his spec two in grav.

  The stan from 14:00 to 15:00 was designated study period on the mess deck, and it was the only time I really saw a group of the crew in one place. I confess it felt good to be wandering from table to table and visiting with them. They seemed so—I don’t know—grateful. It never ceased to amaze me.

  During that period, I visited with everybody. Most had things under control, but there were a couple of issues I was able to help with. I couldn’t necessarily answer questions directly, but was able to find somebody who could. A lot of times, that was better anyway.

  As usual, Apones wasn’t at his table any longer. I don’t know if it was a function of his watch standing, bad timing on my part, or perhaps he was reporting to Burnside about the training. Whatever it was, I found it odd that he was always gone before I left.

  I shrugged it off. At least he wasn’t bothering the people who were trying to study.

  I refilled my coffee cup and headed back to my stateroom to change into workout clothes. There was just enough time for a good run, a little tai chi, and a hot shower before dinner. After dinner, I’d be ready for a nap before going on watch.

  I had just passed the cabin when I heard the door open behind me and saw Bayless slipping out again. He saw me looking, ducked his head, and walked quickly away. I shrugged and kept going myself, but as I changed clothes it occurred to me that I’d seen Bayless, or one of the other engineering crew, coming out of the cabin or walking along that passageway a lot. By a lot, I don’t mean every day. One of them—Bayless or this other guy—I couldn’t think of his name, but my mind provided the face—would be in the passage maybe a couple of times a week.

  It’s not unusual to see crew in Officers’ Country, but to see the same two engineering crewmen near the cabin and not down the passage near Mel’s stateroom, that was curious. I wondered if these two were Mel’s problem children.

  I shrugged it off. Not my division, not my problem, and I had a few kilometers to run before dinner.

  When I got to the gym, the tall power section engi
neman, Lignaria, was just getting off the treadmill. She nodded at me with a friendly smile as we traded places.

  “Watch out for the pothole around twenty klicks, sar,” she said.

  It was a standing joke with us, since I’d caught my shoe on the tread one day when we’d been running together. I’d been horribly embarrassed, and made an offhand joke about finding the pothole. She thought it was much funnier than it actually was, and it had become a kind of ritual with us.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said with a grin as I finished my stretches. As the treadmill started to spin up, I let the endorphins take me and zoned into the running. A full stan passed before I was even aware of it, and the machine’s program slowed to a cool down cycle. It felt great.

  I toweled off some of the excess sweat, got a drink of water to replace some of what I’d lost, and stepped onto the floor for some tai chi. I had found that the combination of a long run, followed by a good session of tai chi, to be the best response to the day-to-day grind. It bled off excess stress and re-centered me. Burnside’s petty abuses—leaving puddles of coffee, smearing the armor-glass ports with granapple jam, and once even leaving something that looked and smelled too fecal for comfort in the watch stander’s chair—didn’t matter. Apones’ constant potential for mayhem melted away.

  I focused on my hand position.

  I paid attention to my weight distribution.

  I sighed as Mosler and Apones entered the gym.

  “Well, look at the purdy dance,” Apones said to Mosler. “Don’t he dance good, Herm?”

  “Real nice,” Mosler answered. “Kinda girly, but some guys like that, don’t they?”

  “Oh yeah, they do,” Apones said.

  They closed the distance and stood just off the cleared exercise floor. I ignored them.

  “You like dancing purdy, Isshy?” Apones said.

  I kept my form moving smoothly.

  “I think he likes it, Rick,” Mosler said.

  “Yeah, maybe we just traded Sissy’s,” he said with a low chuckle.

  “Maybe he’s a girly man,” Mosler replied.

  “You gentleman crossed the line of insubordination some time ago,” I said.

  I hoped I said it calmly, because I didn’t feel terribly calm. I did manage to keep the Wu Long Form going, but regulations required me to warn them before I did anything rash.

  “And what are you going to do about that, girly man?” Apones asked.

  “Probably nothing,” I said, feeling the calming chi moving through me.

  My body remembered the push-hands exercises I’d done with Kurt on the trip from Newmar. He’d worked with me for stan after stan. While his skills were somewhat rougher than Sifu Newmar’s polished grace, they were also more appropriate to what I knew was inevitably coming.

  “At least nothing at the moment,” I told them.

  “Aw, girly man afraid?” Mosler said with a sing songy babytalk inflection.

  I let the chi take me. The movements smooth, deliberate, balanced. I was suspended from the top of my head and a spike of chi ran through my center. I closed my eyes.

  Apones laugh, a deep ha-ha kind of sound, was almost a chortle.

  “Look, Herm, he’s closed his eyes, so he can pretend we’re not here. Peek-a-boo, Isshy!”

  I heard Apones step closer to me.

  I slipped sideways and felt the wind of his hand slide past my face, and I actually heard him grunt from surprise. I slipped sideways again, spinning into a Slant Single Whip as he stepped again. I knew he was going to put his weight into this one, so I moved to Step Back and Ride the Tiger as his body filled the space I’d just left. A quick Turn Body Slap Face Palm pushed him off balance and he sprawled onto the deck taking Mosler down with him.

  It happened quickly. People always underestimate the speed and power of tai chi. I centered myself and stopped the form. Only then did I open my eyes. Mosler was still trying to get out from under Apones, and Apones was looking at me when my eyes opened.

  “If you gentlemen would kindly take yourselves out of my sight, I won’t have to close my eyes again,” I told them.

  Yes, it was cheap theatrics.

  Almost.

  Kurt had taught me the trick of listening with almost closed eyes. It was nothing mystical. I just saw a bit of shape and movement, and in the quiet of the exercise room, every motion of their bodies made sounds that I could hear: cloth on cloth, foot on deck. Even breathing—since neither of them was trying to control it. They huffed like steam engines.

  I stood there waiting while they untangled themselves and stood up. I saw Apones wasn’t done, but Mosler seemed more hesitant. My performance had unnerved him. I don’t think he would have prevented Apones from trying again, but he was already taking a step backward when Cottonwood and VanDalon came into the gym, joking and horsing around. They looked curiously at the three of us standing at the end of the room but stepped up onto the treadmills and began a workout.

  I smiled at Apones. “Tsk, tsk, witnesses, now scat before they see you get beaten up by a girly man.”

  Mosler had seen the two enter and was already pulling Apones back. “Come on, Rick, let’s go.”

  Apones let himself be tugged back a step or two, before turning as if it were his own idea before walking purposefully out of the gym. The two engineering crew ignored him, but looked curiously at me as I limbered up for one Yang Short Form to steady myself before I would have to followed them out into the passageway. By the time I was done, I felt almost okay again.

  I made it back to my stateroom and into the head before throwing up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  DIURNIA SYSTEM

  2358-AUGUST-10

  “You okay in there?” Arletta was in her stateroom.

  I ran some water and rinsed my mouth and washed my face before answering.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  There was a pause. “Are you sure?”

  I released the handle so she could open the door on her side. “Yeah. Just a little more exercise than I expected.”

  She was obviously getting ready to go on watch. Her hair was still wet and she sat on her bunk, slipping into her ship boots. When she got a look at my face, she frowned.

  “Really?”

  I shrugged and swiped a towel across my mouth.

  “Mosler and Apones tried to jump me in the gym,” I told her and ran through the basic outline of events.

  She sat there through the whole thing without saying a word.

  “You don’t seem surprised,” I said when finished.

  “I guess the surprising part is that it took so long. I’m certainly not surprised at the stupidity of it,” she said with a kind of bitter edge to her voice. She glanced up. “Mosler actually said, ‘Girly man’?” she asked.

  I chuckled. “Yeah, if I hadn’t been so intent on the situation, I probably would have burst out laughing.”

  “Why didn’t you put them on report?” she asked.

  “Two against one. No witnesses. They were stupid, but they were careful. I still expect to hear from Burnside about how I roughed up his watch stander.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” she spat. Continuing in a more resigned tone she said, “Typical of Burnside, though.”

  “Yeah. He’ll use the fact that I didn’t put them up on charges as evidence that I’m in the wrong.”

  “And you can’t put them on report because there’s no corroborating evidence,” she finished for me.

  “You got it. As soon as witnesses showed up, they beat it.”

  She sighed in return. “Well, just a few more weeks for me.” She looked up at me apologetically. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t blame ya,” I told her.

  She glanced at the chrono and then slumped back on her bunk. “Not yet,” she said, as much to herself as to me.

  “So you’re the second mate. Any advice from your vast store of experience and exalted rank?” I asked only half joking.

  She pondered it for only a mom
ent.

  “Why yes, young sar. I have learned one important lesson when dealing with these kinds of situations,” she answered in a somber and serious tone.

  I waited expectantly.

  In her most ostentatious voice she pronounced. “Ask Mel.”

  It caught me by surprise, although it shouldn’t have. I guffawed.

  She lost it herself and giggled a little. It was a musical sound and she folded her shoulders forward a bit when she did it. All told, it was a delightful three heartbeats.

  “That’s the best advice I’ve heard all day,” I admitted after half a tick. I leaned in to look at her chrono. “I wonder if she’s in.”

  “Bip her,” Arletta said with a one shouldered shrug. “There’s over a stan before you have to face Burnside in the wardroom. You might wanna line up a few ducks before you get there.”

  “Good point.”

  I slipped back into my stateroom to sit on my bunk and compose the message: Gotta few ticks to advise a junior officer? Before dinner if we can?

  The answer came back almost instantly: Right now in my office?

  On my way. I sent back.

  And in just that much time it was done. I looked up to see Arletta standing in the door to the head.

  “She has time right now, so have a good watch, and I’ll see you at midnight.”

  “Thanks, Ish. Be careful, huh? I’d hate to have to break in another new third.”

  “Am I broken in already?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, but I don’t want to start over fresh. Again.”

  She grinned and waved as she closed my door from the other side.

  I beat feet to engineering. Mel’s office was just off the spine at the top of the aft section of the ship, and while it wasn’t the same distance as on the Lois, it was still a rather long trundle.

  The whole engineering deck was packed with control monitors and I looked into the bay and saw grav, power, and engine consoles. It reminded me a lot of the bridge, except it lacked the armor-glass ports. Mel waved me into her office as I crossed in front of the open door.