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  Half Share

  ( a trader’s tale from the golden age of the solar clipper - 2 )

  Nathan Lowel

  After Ishmael Wang is promoted to the environmental section, he’s caught in a swirl of mystery, doubt, belief, lust and a really nice fitting pair of jeans. He has to come to grips with what it means to be a spacer while he’s still trying to figure out what it means to be a man.

  Join Ishmael, Brillo, Pip, and the rest of the crew of the Lois McKendrick as they help the newest member of the crew adjust to life in the Deep Dark.

  Nathan Lower

  HALF SHARE

  For Donal Little

  Who convinced me that everybody really is an artist and that I’m a story teller.

  READERS PRAISE SOLAR CLIPPER SERIES

  “This is a thoroughly enjoyable coming of age story that had me deciding, three-quarters of the way through, to buy the second book in the series, as I wished to follow Ishmael’s journey to becoming a full share (and beyond) crew member aboard a space trader.”

  “This story has no major conflict, no villain, no drama, no surprises…I couldn’t put it down. Story of life on a deep space freighter with good characters.”

  “For me this book brought up shades of Robert Heinlein to me. The scrappy characters fighting to get ahead make you want to root for them. This is not your typical space aliens conquer the universe book. Nathan Lowell takes a seemingly mundane thing (trade and business) and makes it into something you want to learn about.”

  “I’m not the first to say there’s a connection here to the works of Robert Heinlein, but the shoe fits. Lowell’s writing is crisp and his future is vivid; it’s a place you’d like to live.”

  “The story just flows well…I couldn’t put the book down until I finished. And then right when I finished (at 1 AM in the morning) I was back on Amazon’s site looking for the next book in the series.”

  “I just want to add to all the praise for Lowell, this book was an excellent read, and if you are a fan of SciFi, definitely recommended.”

  Chapter 1

  ST. CLOUD ORBITAL

  2352-FEBRUARY-19

  It was the best of times. It was the worst of times—the classic good news/bad news scenario if ever there was one. At least that is how I felt as I hurried along to Captain Giggone’s office. The McKendrick Mercantile Cooperative had gotten off to a tremendous start on the St. Cloud Orbital. That was the good news. The bad news was that one of the members had gotten into a fight and the local authorities had been called in. As one of the ringleaders of the co-op, I knew my butt was on the line for either circumstance, so when the request to report bipped on my tablet, I was not the least bit surprised. My parents had named me Ishmael Horatio Wang, but I was pretty sure that when the captain got done with me, my name would be Mudd.

  As I rounded a corner, I tried to figure out what she was going to say so I could prepare myself. I should have known better. There was no way I could have anticipated what was about to occur, and this was not the first time I found myself in such a situation. The captain had a way of doing that to me.

  Pip, my friend and co-conspirator in starting the co-op, caught up with me just as I was about to knock on the captain’s door.

  “You got summoned, too?” he whispered.

  “You know what she wants?”

  “I can make a pretty good guess,” he said ruefully.

  We both pulled back our shoulders to straighten our postures, took deep breaths, and then I knocked.

  We heard the captain’s firm voice from behind the closed door. “Come.”

  Pip opened it and we marched in. I tried not to look guilty, though I felt I did a poor job of it. We stopped just inside the door and braced to what passes for attention on a merchant freighter. Pip did the honors. “Attendants Wang and Carstairs, reporting as ordered, sar!”

  The captain was not alone and that did not bode well. All the senior staff sat around the deck-mounted table—Captain Giggone, of course, and Mr. Maxwell, the First Mate. Those two I had expected but Mr. Kelley, the Chief Engineer, and Mr. Cotton, the Cargo Master, surprised me. All the Division Heads were present except Cookie—Specialist First (Chef) Ralf al-M’liki—whom everybody just called Cookie. These august personages regarded Pip and me in a manner I could not quite put my finger on—something between fresh meat and dead meat.

  The captain broke the silence. “Thank you for coming, gentlemen. We have a situation that we need your help in resolving.”

  Pip and I glanced at each other quickly. I had no idea which we the captain might be referring to, or for that matter, what resolving either Pip or I was capable of doing. From the expression reflected in Pip’s eyes I was pretty sure he felt the same way.

  “Yes, Captain. We’re glad to help,” I said, though I had no idea what I had just committed us to. Still, it was not like we—that would be the Pip-and-me we—had a lot of choice in the matter, seeing as how we were junior members of the crew.

  The captain turned her gaze on Pip. “Mr. Carstairs, I’ve had reports from Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Cotton that you’ve been using the galley storage accounts to engage in trading at the last two ports.”

  “Yes, Captain. Cookie and I have been working on reducing the overhead of mess operations on the ship’s overall operating budget.”

  “And how has that worked out, Mr. Carstairs?”

  “I’m not sure, Captain. I haven’t seen the final accounting for St. Cloud. At Margary, I think we broke even.”

  “Broke even?” she asked, one eyebrow raised in question.

  By then I felt pretty confused. I had no idea what Pip’s trading had to do with the trouble in the flea market on St. Cloud, and besides, I found it hard to believe the captain did not know the exact details of the ships accounts. I wondered why she was asking.

  “Yes, Captain. I think we took enough in trade to pay for mess operations and still feed the crew in the manner to which they have become accustomed,” Pip said.

  I was glad to hear Pip add the manner to which they have been accustomed part. The quality of the food on the Lois McKendrick was a matter of pride and I am sure the captain would not be pleased no matter how much Pip saved, if the crew was not satisfied.

  The captain prodded further. “You think?”

  “Yes, Captain.” I could see the gleam of sweat at his temple out of the corner of my eye, but he kept his voice steady. “Cookie thinks we actually turned a small profit, but my numbers indicate we broke even.”

  “And for the St. Cloud leg?”

  “I don’t know yet, Captain. I’ve been tied up with the co-op and haven’t seen the latest figures on the coffee trading.”

  “I see.” She nodded once as if to herself and then turned to me. “Mr. Wang, I have another report that indicates you have taken and passed all four divisional half share rating exams in the six months since you’ve been aboard.”

  Like the results of supply accounting, I was pretty sure she knew the answer to that as well. After all, it was on file in my personnel jacket, but I played along. “Yes, Captain.”

  “And what will you do now that you have those ratings, Mr. Wang?”

  “I wasn’t planning to do anything in particular, Captain. I was just trying to see if there was a division I might like better than steward.”

  “And were you worried that you’d be stuck ashore…” she prompted. She laid it out like a statement but her inflection indicated a question.

  “Well, not worried exactly, Captain. More like hedging my bets against unfortunate circumstances.”

  “Do you want to leave the Lois?” she asked in a matter-of-fact tone. “Are you interested in pursuing such an opportunity?”

  “No, Cap
tain!” Even as I spoke, I knew my response was too vigorous. “I like it here. I have friends here.” I shut my mouth and clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t blurt out anything more ridiculous like, “Please don’t make me leave!”

  Pip and I traded glances again. I had no clue where this conversation was heading and it looked liked my friend was equally confounded. The captain studied us for a few heartbeats—I am sure it was a smaller number for her than for us—but finally she glanced around the table at the officers and gave a little nod toward Mr. Maxwell.

  Mr. Maxwell fixed his gaze in Pip’s direction. The First Mate was a calm, deliberate man and did everything for a reason. He had a reputation for being so cold and calculating that a common joke was that robots considered it an insult to their warmth and personality when he was compared to them. Personally, I liked him and trusted him as much as any person I had ever known.

  “Mr. Carstairs, you recently passed the cargo man exam and are qualified to take a full share birth in that division.” He glanced at his tablet then continued, “The Andrew W. Mellon is docked here at St. Cloud and has posted a cargo man berth for which we are prepared to give you the highest recommendation. Would you like to pursue that position?”

  Pip blinked. “Sar?”

  I could hear the confusion in his voice. Frankly, I was just as perplexed as he was, but the theatre of the absurd production playing out in the captain’s cabin was starting to get really interesting.

  “Mr. Carstairs, the Mellon has a cargo opening,” the captain said. “If you want it, we’ll help you get it.”

  “Have I done something wrong, sar?” he asked.

  Myself, I was starting to have trouble breathing. I kept waiting for them to get around to the fight at the flea market, but all they were interested in talking about was leaving the Lois. I knew there would be a price to be paid, but I had no idea we were in that much trouble.

  Mr. Maxwell and the captain exchanged a look. I had no idea what it might have meant, but I would recognize it again if I ever saw it. The next words out of Mr. Maxwell’s mouth really confused me. “No, Mr. Carstairs. In fact, you’ve done very well by the Lois and we want to do what we can to help you. This is a legitimate opportunity—one of several—and I wanted you to know about it before we offered you an alternative.”

  “Sar, I’m with Mr. Wang. I like it here. I want to work with Cookie on the stores trading and see just how far we can take it.”

  “So, you’d rather work here as a quarter share steward than transfer to the Mellon and work full share cargo? Is that what you’re saying?” The captain’s voice carried no inflection at all.

  “Well, it sounds kinda silly when you put it like that, Captain, but yes, I guess that’s what I mean. I like what I do here.”

  Mr. Cotton spoke up then, “You have amazing skills, ya, Mr. Carstairs. But I must say, we have no openings in cargo for a cargo man at the moment, ya.”

  “Yes, sar. I’m aware of that. You have a good crew and I know they all like it here as much as I do. But I wouldn’t be able to do the kinds of trading on the Mellon that I’ve been doing here with Cookie. Besides, the co-op is just getting started, and I’m making some good money with that. It’s okay, sar. I don’t need a cargo slot right now or really anytime soon.”

  There was another weird little pause while the officers all nodded at each other. The captain made a gesture toward Mr. Kelley and he turned to me. “Mr. Wang, I’ve been getting reports from the environmental section that you’re spending time down there.”

  “Yes, sar,” I answered promptly.

  “You spent your breaks from galley duty to help them scrape sludge?”

  “Well, just once, sar. But I’d be happy to help them again, if needed.”

  “Spec one Smith reports that you aided spec three Ardele in swapping out the algae matrices for the number three scrubber. Is this true?”

  “Yes, sar. She needed a hand and I was free for a couple of stans. It was kinda fun in a slimy, wet, mucky sorta way.”

  “Was that before or after you got your engineman rating, Mr. Wang?”

  “After, sar.”

  “Ms. Smith reports that you have some odd ideas about sludge, Mr. Wang. Would you care to share one or two of them?”

  “Um, well, sar. I thought perhaps we could use it as a base for compost.”

  “Compost?”

  “Yes, sar. At Margary me and Diane…er…I mean spec three Ardele, visited a mushroom farm. They grow a bunch of different varieties of fungus in a slurry made of hydroponic waste and chipped sludge. When I found out we were just giving our left over waste away it made me think there might be a better use for it.”

  “And you thought we might grow what?”

  “I dunno, sar. I was just interested in the idea. Margary uses hollowed out asteroids for their farms, and I thought we could do something similar since it didn’t seem like the mushrooms needed much tending to.”

  “I see. And did you enjoy working in the environmental section?”

  I considered that for a moment before answering. “Yes, sar. Yes, I did. Bri…er, Ms. Smith, Ms. Ardele, and Mr. Gartner are all great to work with.”

  The weird little pause-and-nod exchange occurred again between the seated officers.

  Finally, the captain said, “Okay, gentlemen, here’s the problem. Mr. Carstairs, you deserve a chance at cargo man, as you show exceptional capabilities in this area. Your stores trading for St. Cloud gave us a net profit of close to thirty-five percent over our stores budget. Not only did that cover the cost of feeding the crew for the last five weeks, but you’ve generated a very respectable surplus. Partly due to the short hop over here from Margary and partly due to your shrewd horse trading. You do us proud, Mr. Carstairs, and I am grateful. The problem is I don’t have a cargo slot to offer you, and there’s another little problem with regards to spec three Avery.”

  That was it. The shoe I had been waiting to drop. Gregor Avery got into a fight while working the booth on the flea market. I was not sure what all the talk about tests, trading, and visits to the environmental section was all about but at least now we were going to find out our punishment for any culpability we had in that fiasco. In an effort to try and explain, I blurted out, “I’m sorry about that, sar. I don’t know what happened at the co-op—”

  The captain interrupted me, “Oh, I don’t care about that.” She waved a hand as if to shoo away a pesky fly. “He’s always been a hot head. The more important point is that the tanker Audrey Moore has just hired him for their environmental section. So that leaves us short-handed.”

  I was not positive I heard her right. I was so sure that Gregor, Pip, and I would all be paying the price for the flea-market incident that I was flabbergasted to hear she did not even care about that.

  “He’s changing ships? I didn’t know that, sar. Although, he did mention wanting to get onto a tanker, once or twice.”

  “Personally, I hope he enjoys it,” the captain said. “But getting back to the problems at hand and how you gentlemen can help us with them.” She gestured to Mr. Kelly.

  “Mr. Wang, I am prepared to offer you an engineman slot in environmental,” he said. “Ms. Smith has been consulted and is most enthusiastic. Are you interested?”

  “Well, yes, sar, but what about the galley?”

  Mr. Maxwell answered, “Inquiry reveals we have several quarter share candidates available to us on St. Cloud, Mr. Wang.”

  Mr. Kelley continued, “We know you don’t have the knowledge and experience that Mr. Avery did, but the section crew down there can’t say enough good things about you. They want you, if you want to go.”

  While I was happy for the opportunity, I also felt bad for being promoted before Pip. He had more seniority and had been at quarter share for almost two full stanyers, while I had barely been aboard for six months. I looked over at him and said, “But Pip—”

  Before I could finish the captain interrupted, “Before you go on, you should know we h
ave another job in mind for Mr. Carstairs.”

  Mr. Maxwell swiveled his gaze back in Pip’s direction. “Mr. Carstairs, your work in the galley stores has contributed greatly to the welfare of the ship. While we cannot offer you a cargo man position, we can offer you a raise in your current assignment. We will need you to stay in the galley in order to help Cookie break in a new attendant, but we’re prepared to raise your salary to cargo man scale at a full share rating with corresponding mass allotment. There is, however, one proviso that you continue doing what you’ve been doing since Gugara with regards to the stores trading.”

  My brain vapor-locked at that point, but Pip, ever the wheeler-dealer, spoke up, “Just so I understand everything. I’m going to stay attendant rank on the books, but you’re going to pay me the same as cargo man, give me a full share, and increase my mass allotment?”

  Mr. Maxwell smiled. “Yes, Mr. Carstairs, that is an accurate summation.”

  Wanting to make sure I had everything straight, I said, “And I’ll be taking Gregor’s place in the environmental section as a half share crewman? And we’ll hire another quarter share to take my slot on the mess deck?”

  The captain nodded. “Yes, Mr. Wang. The good news is that you’ll get a new job. The bad news is that Mr. Carstairs has to stay and train another quarter share hand.”

  Pip and I looked at each other for a second before he turned back to the officers. “Well, I did pretty well with the last one,” he said.

  Chapter 2

  ST. CLOUD ORBITAL

  2352-FEBRUARY-19

  As soon as they dismissed us, we scampered to the galley to help Cookie with the lunch mess. My head reeled and I looked forward to slipping into the familiar lunchtime routine. In-port duty was always a welcome break from the busier service while underway, but I expected today would be a larger than normal turnout. We had been docked for three days and some of the initial interest in the orbital had worn off, not to mention more than a few crew members were running low on creds. Arriving at the galley, we found Cookie already underway at full steam ahead.