Half Share

by Nathan Lowell

“Well, maybe they’re magic and maybe they’re not, but they are very nice. I treasure mine, so thank you again,” she said before changing the subject back to work. “So how comfortable are you on watch?”

  “I think I know what to do—so long as nothing goes wrong, but I have no idea what to do if something breaks.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, what if the scrubber turns green in the middle of the shift?”

  “It won’t. It takes several stans for that to develop, and the air mixture graphs would pick it up long before it got that far.”

  “What if I find one of the sensor packages failing the VSI check?”

  “Call me.”

  “What if one of the pipes starts leaking?”

  “Call me.”

  “What if one of the graphs starts changing?”

  “Call me.”

  “What if I want somebody to talk to in the middle of the night?”

  “Call Bev. She can come down here and smack you harder than I can.”

  I laughed. “Very true.”

  “Look,” she said seriously, “basically the role of watch stander is to alert the chain of command in case of anomalous activity. Diane and Francis, as spec threes, have the knowledge and experience to handle some minor routine maintenance on their own, which helps keep us up and running nicely and breaks up the monotony of watch standing for them.”

  “That makes sense. But you don’t expect me to do that?”

  “Not really, but I’m not going to say you can’t either. If you see a filter needs changing on your shift and you know how to do it, go for it. If you don’t, or even if you’re uncertain, pass it off to the next person. Nobody’s going to fault you for it.”

  “Okay, that makes me feel better.”

  “You’re an engineman, Ish, not a specialist. We all know you’re good and we appreciate your help a lot. But we also know you’re not trained to do much more than keep your eyes open. My charge to you, as your section chief, is to call me whenever you see something that you don’t understand. I will never be upset if you call me over something that turns out to be nothing. We may not survive if you don’t call me on something that turns out to be serious, and we all know you don’t have enough training or experience to tell the difference yet. So don’t try to be a hero.”

  “Okay, I can do that. I got good marks in Not-Hero in school.”

  “Good! What do we need to do this watch then?”

  “VSI and section walk through. We’ve already checked and there’s no routine maintenance. We just need to stay awake and keep clearing the automated integrity checks.”

  “You forgot one.”

  I thought back over the list, but I could not think of what I had missed.

  “Study for spec three!” she said with a laugh.

  I grinned back at her.

  “Okay, Mr. Wang, you’re now officially the watch stander of record for first section. You will log me in as your assistant and we’ll see how it goes.” She got out of the console chair and waved me into it. I swapped the logs as she had instructed and that was it.

  Halfway through that third week she stopped coming to work with me, and when I relieved Diane for my first solo shift, she said, “Welcome aboard, Ish.”

  I felt like was finally a real member of the Foggy Bottom gang.

  Chapter 12

  DUNSANY ROADS SYSTEM

  2352-MARCH-30

  Watch standing soon became as comfortable a routine as mess deck had been, but there were several notable differences. First, I missed my daily repartee with Pip and Cookie. Second, after months of feeling like I had no privacy, I suddenly found myself alone for long periods of time. This was especially noticeable when the rotation took me into evening and mid watches. Brill, as section chief, stayed in her office during the designated business day which was 08:00 to 17:00. It was not like we would be getting any walk-in customers so I was never sure why. The ship’s normal business was done during those hours and she would occasionally have to attend a section head meeting.

  In spite of being alone, I did feel like I was part of a team. Not the kind of team that Pip, Cookie, and I had been—where we were closely integrated and all working together to get the next meal out. Being in environmental was more like a relay race where I would take the baton, move it forward through the stans, and hand it off to the next runner. The good part of this new position was that when I was off duty, I got to know more of the other people on the ship.

  One thing about working in the galley was that I would see people, they would disappear, and new people would show up as the duty sections rotated around the clock. Mess duty was like watching a kid on a carousel—every so often he would swing by on his carved horse, wave, and disappear around the bend again. Standing watch was more like riding the merry-go-round. You got to see the people riding the horses around you, talk to them, and get to know them a little better, but it was the people standing on the ground that periodically appeared and disappeared.

  Tabitha Rondita was one of the people I got to know better. She was on first watch, too, but I had never really gotten to know her very well, in spite of the fact that for six months she slept on the other side of the partition from me. Rondita was an olive-skinned woman in her late thirties with black hair, dark brown eyes, and spectacular curves that her shipsuit seemed to emphasize. She was not fat—none of the crew seemed to be—but she was more rounded than most. While most of the other women aboard were slender and willowy, Rondita was what my mom would have called an earth mother type.

  Most of the first watch seemed to hit the gym at the same time in the watch cycle. Many used it as a kind of pump me up for work period during the off part of the six-on-six-off-six-on section of the rotation. Tabitha would come in at the same time and climb on a rowing machine. I spotted her from the track as I did my laps and she would often row for as long, or longer, than I would run. We would smile and wave and after a few watch cycles started meeting up in the sauna with three or four others that included Mitch Fitzroy, the machinist from Propulsion section who slept in the lower bunk under mine, Arvid Xia, a wiper from Power, and Sean Grishan who was on the bridge crew with Tabitha.

  They all knew each other pretty well, of course, but they only had seen me from the mess deck. They welcomed me onto the merry-go-round readily enough and I soon found out that they teased Sean about his knitting.

  “It’s crochet. With a hook!” he would answer, no many how many times they would attribute his activities to the needle variety.

  Arvid was a quiet, bookish guy who could sneak up on you with a pun faster than anybody I had ever met. Mitch was a nice guy, the archetype mechanic who really only lived for engines. Tabitha was the queen bee of the group and always complained about the size of her hips and thighs. Arvid and Sean seemed to enjoy them, though, as their eyes were locked to her whenever Tabitha walked out of the sauna. I am pretty sure she was aware of her effect on the guys, as well. Often she would stay in the sauna a long time until the others had practically passed out from the heat before she would stand up and languidly sashay out to the showers. Nobody ever said anything, but Tabitha clearly appreciated being appreciated.

  My new schedule still allowed me the opportunity to see Pip, but we were no longer joined at the hip by identical duty cycles as we once had been. Because I had one day out of three completely off, we got plenty of chances to get together. Beverly was the one I rarely got to see during that time. She was on second watch, which meant she was almost always on duty when I was off. We had a few stans off at the same time, but I found that I missed her a lot. I felt awkward whenever I tracked her down when I knew we were both off. It felt like my moving out had somehow changed us. I supposed it had something to do with riding on opposite sides of the carousel.

  Two weeks out of Dunsany Roads, Pip and I arranged to meet on the mess deck during his afternoon break and it felt almost like old times. “So, how’s the stores trading coming?”

  “Really
good!” he said with a wide grin. “Dunsany has some of the only beef cattle in this end of the galaxy. They are not beefalo hybrids but real cows. There are also a good number of chicken farms, so Cookie is dying to try out some new poultry dishes. They don’t have as big a fishery as St. Cloud, though, so we’re hoping to get decent returns on some of the fish down in freezer five.”

  “Nothing like the coffee deal, I bet.”

  “They do have tea in commercial quantities, but, no, no coffee.”

  “Back on St. Cloud we were talking about textiles. Didn’t you say they have a big cotton and flax industry?” I asked, trying to remember what he had told me.

  “Yeah. Last beacon data indicated a fair amount of silk production as well.”

  “So, what do you think we can expect to find in the flea market there?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “It’s always a dice roll. I’d expect to see cotton and linen fabrics in various permutations from yard goods to finished products. Dunsany is a Confederation port, not a company system. This is the first one we’ve hit since you’ve been aboard. Big companies still hold the majority of the production assets on-planet, but they don’t have the same strangle-hold that they do in the other systems. The Lois has a huge load going into Dunsany Roads, although some of it’s being re-routed. We’ll be docked an extra day just because we’re swapping out almost a third of the containers.”

  “Really? What are you putting in the empty container for Betrus?”

  “Denim and canvas, I think.”

  “Fabric? Why fabric?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you get more upside on clothing?”

  “Yeah, but they use denim and canvas for a lot of different things on Betrus. Burlap sacking would be another good choice, if we can find the right quantities and prices. They use a lot of burlap there.”

  “Really? What does Betrus make?”

  “They have a variety of agricultural products. Mostly wine, but also hops, barley, wheat, and oats. We’re scheduled to pick up containers of hops and wheat this trip.”

  “Interesting. No beer?”

  “No.” He laughed. “Beer isn’t like wine. It’s a lot cheaper to take the bulk dry goods and brew your own where you are.”

  “Wait, did you say barley?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Single malt whiskey is usually made from barley. Can we sell it at a flea market?”

  “Good question.” He pulled up a schedule. “We’re heading for Niol after Betrus. I suppose if it doesn’t sell, we can always have a party.”

  “Well, let’s see what’s doing, first, I suppose.”

  “True,” Pip agreed. “And what are we going to do with all this yarn?”

  “We have a hundred skeins at a cred each, right?”

  “Yeah, twenty kilos worth.”

  “I have an idea, but I need to do some homework of my own first. I’ll let you know how it pans out.”

  Just then Sarah came out of the galley and headed out, probably on her way to berthing. It reminded me that we really had not had much time to talk about her recently. When she was gone, I asked, “So, how’s Sarah doing?”

  Pip scrunched up his face a little before letting out a breath. “Well, some days are good and others not so much. We had a couple of times before transition where she flinched whenever somebody stuck a plate toward her on the mess line. Sometimes she’s very positive and upbeat. Sometimes I hear her crying in her sleep.”

  “Can you get her to go to the gym and maybe ride one of the bikes? Or row or something? The walls must be closing in by now.”

  “I’ve suggested it, but she’s still self-conscious. She is beginning to put a little flesh on her bones, though. A month of Cookie’s cooking is really helping. She’s not quite so knobby, but she’s still shy around the rest of the crew. She seems okay though with Bev, Cookie and me. Except for that those flinches, she’s been okay on the line. Something about being behind the counter maybe…”

  “I thought she looked a little healthier, but if she doesn’t find something to do with her off time…”

  “I know. Believe me, I know.” Pip shook his head helplessly and changed the subject. “But how about you? What have you been doing? Besides running and walking the length of the ship three times a day?”

  “Studying for spec three.”

  “You’ve given up the idea of a set of full share ratings?” he asked surprised.

  “Well, realistically, what’re the chance that I’m not going to be on the Lois?”

  “True,” he conceded.

  “If I leave here, it’s most likely because I want to at this point, and I can’t see me wanting to.”

  “You and me, both, brother. So, how’s spec three going?”

  I shook my head at that one. “It’s a lot harder than the other tests I’ve taken. There’s a lot of science and math that I’m not really all that familiar with.”

  “Well, hang in there, brain boy,” he said encouragingly. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He looked at the chrono. “I need to get in a run and a sauna before the dinner drill. You coming?”

  “No, I’m gonna pass this time. I need to go do some homework.”

  Pip nodded. “Okay, I’ll see ya round the mess deck, then,” he said with a wave. He left for the gym, and I headed for deck berthing.

  Sean Grishan was right where I expected him to be—in his bunk with a crochet hook and a big ball of blue yarn. He was listening to something on a headset as he worked and I stood there for a heartbeat or two before he noticed me watching. His fingers danced along the yarn and the silvery hook glinted as he turned out stitch after identical stitch.

  “Ish, hi!” he said, pulling off his headset. “What brings you to the spider’s web?”

  “Hey, Sean. I wonder if you have a few ticks to talk a little business…”

  “You kidding? Of course! What’s on your mind?”

  I outlined my idea a bit at a time, and as I talked, I could see him fitting the bits and pieces together and nodding. As I got near the punch line, he started smiling. By the time I had finished, he was hooked. “Count me in.”

  “Thanks, Sean. I think this is going to be an interesting experiment. I appreciate your help.”

  “Don’t thank me, Ish. If this works like I think it might, you’re going to make me a lot of creds.”

  Three quads down, I found Sarah sitting on her bunk, fingering her raven, and reading something on her tablet. She seemed a lot better than the bruised woman who had stepped off the shuttle, but she still had a haunted look around the corners of her eyes. I tapped lightly at the entrance to the quad and spoke very softly, “Hey, Sarah.”

  She looked up at me and smiled. “Hi, Ishmael. Don’t see much of you these days. How’s it going in environmental?”

  “Doing good,” I said as I moved slowly and deliberately into the quad, giving her as much room as I could. “I saw Pip a little while ago and he said you’re doing pretty well yourself.”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “Some days I do pretty well. Some days…” she trailed off looking down.

  “I remember my first voyage—Neris to Darbat. I was a mess. My mom had recently died and I just barely got off planet before they deported me. Pip had not told me about the gym yet and I was going crazy with nothing much to do.”

  “I’m not ready for the gym,” she said a little defensively. “I like my little place up here.” And she patted the bunk.

  “I told ya it was a good bunk,” I said with a grin. “But I understand about the gym. What I really needed was something to do. I remember feeling overwhelmed that all I did was work, sleep, work, sleep. The monotony drove me crazy.”

  I could see that I had hit home with that. “Yeah,” she said a bit wistfully, looking about, “I’ve had a lot to learn and more to think about than I really wanted to, but I find myself wondering how much longer the trip is going to last.”

  “How’d ya like a little project? Something to keep you busy and make some extra c
reds in the process?”

  She looked wary, but asked, “What?”

  Her voice was a bit sharp and I was not sure what she expected, but I don’t think it had anything to do with what I was about to suggest. When I got done laying it out, she said, “That sounds like fun, but…I don’t know how.”

  “We got that part covered, too. I just wanted to run it by you to see if you were interested before I got too far into this.” I smiled as reassuringly as I could as I started to back slowly out of the quad. “Lemme get some things arranged, and I’ll come back and see you again in a few days, okay?”

  “Yes,” she said shyly. “I’d like that.”

  Chapter 13

  DUNSANY ROADS SYSTEM

  2352-APRIL-03

  We were about ten days short of Dunsany Roads Orbital when we had a suit drill while I was alone on watch. It was the only Oh, damn! moment I had had as watch stander up to then. It was evening at around 21:30 and I was walking down the spine on my VSI. As soon as the whoop-whoop sounded, I knew I was in trouble. I already had the ship schematic on my tablet, but wasted a few seconds fumbling for the suit locker overlay. Luckily, I found one just four steps ahead of me in the spine, so I did not have far to go. The whooping stopped and the announcement started by the time I got a suit out and opened up. I locked down the helmet just as the announcement ended. My first thought was, whew but then it occurred to me I did not know who to tell or how to tell them.

  I scrambled my tablet out and ran off a quick bip to Brill: On VSI, Spine. Suited but tell who? How?

  Covered…bipped back almost instantly. It was followed a couple heartbeats later with: Good thinking.

  The all-clear announcement followed after a few ticks and I zipped the suit back into the locker with the red used tab out. The captain had not reported any fatalities, so somebody must have clued Sarah in.

  When I got back from VSI, Brill was waiting for me in environmental. “That was fast thinking, and I’m sorry you had to do it.”

  She popped the suit locker open and pulled out a used suit. The communications patch on the sleeve had several options, which I had no clue about. Brill ran through them one at a time including the press this button to report one. As one might expect, it was pathetically easy once you knew about it. Cookie and Pip had taught me how to use the communications patch to talk to them, but at the time, we never thought I would need to report for myself.