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  He laughed at that.

  “So what brought you to the Lois?”

  He chuckled a bit bitterly. “Well, a Ph.D. isn’t what it used to be and astrophysics has gotten very political these days. Most of the money is in corporate positions in R&D.”

  “R&D in astrophysics?”

  “Yeah, almost of the big corporate conglomerates have what they call R&D branches. It’s really exploration and development. They send ships out to sit in the Deep Dark and look for new systems to exploit. They take about a hundred little probes with them and send them out in likely directions. The probes jump out, do a programmed survey, and jump back. Usually they jump back where they get picked up. The companies extract the data, refurbish the probe, and send it out again.”

  “But don’t we know where the nearby stars are?” I asked.

  Francis shrugged. “Yes and no. We need a pretty clear spot to put a ship in when we jump into a system. The Burleson drive gets unstable otherwise. You probably wouldn’t want to be on a ship that jumped into, say, a dark-matter cloud.”

  “Why? What happens?”

  “Dunno. We’ve never had anybody come back to tell us. I suspect it’s not because it was so nice that they just decided to stay.”

  “Oh, that put transition in a whole new light for me. I’m glad I didn’t know that all this time.”

  Francis saw my expression and gave me a reassuring smile. “In the shipping lanes, it’s not an issue. They’re scouted out well in advance of any big ship rumbling in. To answer your other question, yes. We do know mostly where the nearby stars are, but we don’t know a lot of detail about their systems. There are a lot of systems out there that are in exploration range that aren’t necessarily within commercial jump range. So, finding a commercially viable system usually means finding some way that it can be of value.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” I said. “What’s the problem?”

  “Typical trip is eighteen months between ports.”

  “Ouch! That’s a long time without fresh stores.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I thought forty days was long. So, you used to work on those ships that did the probing?”

  “Yeah. Eighteen months at a whack is a lifetime, or at least it feels like it. First trip, I thought I was going to go out of my mind before we finally got back, but I was contractually obligated to make a second trip. While I was out there, I needed something to occupy my time so I studied”

  “Ah, I see so that’s how you got into environmental?”

  “Yep, when I got back I took the spec three test at the Union Hall and caught the next freighter out of the system with an open berth.”

  “After three years in the Deep Dark, I’m surprised you wanted to ship out!”

  “I got into astrophysics because I love it out here. I just didn’t like what they had me doing. Those long treks were just too hard to take. I much rather prefer life on the freighters. I like sailing out for a few weeks, getting to a port and then going out again.”

  The automated systems check popped up again and Francis acknowledged it before continuing, “Three months I could have handled. No sweat. Even four. Maybe even six. It was interesting work and in my field of expertise but eighteen months in a tin can was way too long.”

  Brill and Diane came in and I noticed that it was almost 13:30. Pullout in environmental was no more exciting than it had been on the mess deck. Francis and Brill sat in the only two chairs. Diane got a folded blanket out of a storage locker and put it down on the deck next to a bulkhead for us to sit on. We did not expect anything bad would happen, but things were occasionally known to go wrong on pullout so we settled where a little bumpiness would not send us crashing into each other or some critical ship’s component. We got the familiar announcement, “All hands, brace for pullout. All hands, brace for pullout,” over the ship’s speakers and I felt the familiar thump of the docking ring letting us go from the bow. This was followed by the weird moving elevator feeling for just a few seconds. The speakers then told us, “All hands. Pullout complete. Tugs cast off in three zero ticks, mark.” That was it. We were underway again. I wondered, briefly, how Sarah fared in the galley.

  It felt strange to be just sitting there so I asked Diane, “Well, we’ve got three stans. If nothing else is happening, should we replace that algae matrix?”

  “Good idea, but it’s against standing orders. We have to keep all the shipboard equipment up and available during navigation detail. When we shut down gear while underway, we need to notify the bridge and actually get permission first. They never turn us down, but it keeps everybody running the ship informed as to what’s happening down here.”

  “So, we sit.”

  She gave me a grin and a half shrug. “Unless you brought some playing cards.”

  I sighed. “This is going to take some getting used to, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Welcome to the other side. It’s not harder, just different. You’ll adjust.”

  I thought for a while. “What’s the regulation about project work?”

  “What do you mean by project work?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. What if I wanted to experiment with making a growing medium out of sludge, for example?”

  “You can do what you like so long as you can see the readouts. Anything that keeps you from falling asleep is always good, like reading and studying. Watching holos isn’t considered good form, but Brill would just ask you to put them away. If you’re gonna play with growing compounds though, I’d check with Big B. She’s the plant sciences expert, and it’s a good idea to keep the section chief informed about stuff like that.”

  “Big B?”

  She laughed. “Yeah, that’s Brill”

  Three stans was a long time, and I had to find something to do. My tablet was okay, but I kept thinking about the courses in my duffel and my portable computer. I pulled up the Spacer’s Handbook and started researching the full share ratings. The Handbook was the encyclopedia for everything there was to know about life in the Deep Dark. It was huge and going through it all would take a lifetime, but it contained training material for each rating and practice tests to help get you prepared.

  My original plan was to get a full share rating in each division as a kind of insurance policy to maximize employability. Having all the ratings would mean I would be qualified for just about any open slot. As I sat there, it seemed almost pointless and perhaps naive. There did not seem to be much likelihood of me getting stranded, and I could not imagine leaving the Lois. Still, the extra mass allotment would be nice so I brought up the calendar. Sixty-eight days until the next test period—about ten days the other side of Dunsany Roads. The Lois was authorized to have a third spec three in environmental. I turned to Diane and asked, “Do you think if I passed spec three, I could get the promotion?”

  She grinned. “In a heartbeat!”

  “I’ve got sixty-eight days to study. Think I can do it by then?”

  “Two months? Wow. That’s ambitious. It took me two tries, but I wasn’t working in environmental at the time.”

  “What’s the downside? I skip the next test period and maybe hit the Union Hall at Betrus?”

  “Yup,” Diane agreed. “That’s about it.”

  I started reviewing the various environmental exam materials with Diane’s help. When the ship set normal watch, Francis showed me the log keeping functions, and we handed the duty off to Diane in time to catch some dinner. I was more than ready to get out of the section.

  While waiting in the mess line, I saw Pip behind the serving station standing next to Sarah. She seemed like she was settling in well enough for having been aboard for such a short time. It was both good and strange to see Pip from this side of the line.

  Pip waved when he saw me. “Hey, Ish! How’s life in engineering?”

  “It’s still a little soon to tell, but I think it’ll be all right. I’m off now until 06:00. Wanna get together when you get cleaned up here?”<
br />
  “You betcha. We’ve still got business to deal with from St. Cloud.”

  After I ate, I stretched out in my bunk and read for a bit to let dinner settle. I did not want to repeat my mistake of running so soon after eating.

  Around 19:30, I found myself beginning to nod off as I read, so I decided it was time to run. I was into my fourth lap when Rhon Scham caught up with me. Rhon was one of the watch standers and I was used to seeing her through bleary eyes when she woke me for mess duty. “Hi, Rhon.”

  She gave me a friendly smile, and asked, “How’s life in engineering?”

  “It’s a living. I think. It feels like I’ve been on duty for the last twelve stans, though. I’m off now until 06:00.”

  She smiled. “Second section. Me, too.” We ran a half a lap before she continued, “Shifting from port-side duty to being underway is always a pain. You’re getting it over with early, though, so you’ll be in the groove sooner.”

  “In the groove?”

  “Yeah. Watch standing is boring and tedious, but it’s also crucial. These ships don’t fly themselves. When something goes wrong, the ship can tell you, but you need to interpret the data and take corrective action. Sometimes that means like RIGHT NOW!”

  “I can buy that.”

  “So, as time goes on, you get into the groove. Just like you’re probably used to getting up at 04:30 every morning. In a couple of days, you’ll be in sync with the new schedule. You’ll be in the groove.”

  “What do you do on watch?”

  “Sit, wait, study, read. It depends. The bridge is a pretty active place. We’re moving really fast and there are adjustments we need to make to the sails and keel, sometimes as much as several times in a stan. The solar wind isn’t constant and it’s not uniform. We find pockets and swirls that require us to pay attention to stay on course.”

  “Sounds interesting,” I said, remembering my last watch with Francis.

  “I’m building it up. Mostly it’ll make you numb from the sheer boredom.”

  I chuckled and we ran our remaining laps in silence. When we were done, I waved to her and headed to the showers to rinse off before my sauna. I hoped I was not going to regret leaving the mess deck. At least there, I had Pip for amusement.

  At 21:00 I headed over to deck berthing and ran into Pip and Sarah just getting in from the galley.

  “How was your first full day, Sarah?” I asked.

  Long,” she said shyly. “But fun in a way. I think I’m going to like it.”

  She went on into the berthing area while Pip and I talked in the passage. “Well?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “I have no clue. She’s like a different person.”

  “How’d she do?”

  “Great! She catches on really fast and she has a knack with breads as you probably noticed with the biscuits.”

  “Good. So, what about this yarn? You got a lot of it? Wanna give me a peek?”

  Pip grinned and led me into deck berthing. He opened his locker and it was stuffed full. Then he opened the locker that went with the empty bunk under his, and it was full, too. I started laughing and then channeled Pip and his famous sayings. “My dog and her little puppies, Pip, how many are there?”

  “One hundred skeins. Each one weighs two-hundred grams.”

  “They sell it by weight?”

  “Apparently. I shoulda talked to Sean a little more, I guess. I thought it would be by length or something awkward like that to calculate.”

  “How much?”

  “A hundred creds,” Pip said.

  “A cred each?” I was in shock that we got such a good price.

  Pip laughed. “Yeah, it’s insane, but that’s what they charged me. They were selling it for three in the booth, so either their markup was really high or they needed to clear some inventory.”

  He closed the lockers, pulled out his tablet, and we settled in at the table.

  “Okay, we’ve got a meeting scheduled with the Co-Op Steering Committee tomorrow afternoon, are you free?” Pip asked.

  “Yup.”

  “The preliminary numbers are that the booth’s take from the flea market trading was four hundred and twenty creds which will be split between the booth captains and the co-op. That’s more than enough to cover Dunsany Roads, so we’re good there.”

  “I’m impressed. How’d you and I do?”

  “I sold about three hundred and fifty of the stones with the leather thongs on them and all the belts and buckles. We’ve covered the costs for all the goods, so anything we sell is gravy at this point and we have a nice bit of a cushion to boot.”

  He turned the tablet around so I could see his calculations, and I did a double take. The number at the bottom of the column was five thousand two hundred and elven.

  “What? How!”

  “Between the raw belts we sold at Margary, the ones with buckles we sold here, and a very large pile of small stones that’s what’s left. And get this…that’s AFTER I took out the costs of everything: the belts, buckles, stones, leather thong, and the yarn. Oh, and the dyes. They were cheap. I think twelve creds for the lot.”

  “But three hundred fifty stones at two creds comes to what? Seven hundred?”

  “Your math-fu has no match in this universe,” he replied drily. “And you would be right except they seem to have some kind of fetish on St. Cloud for that kind of thing. They sold for three to five creds each. Quartz was particularly popular and I had more than one bidding war over a good piece. I sold one of them for ten creds.”

  I gasped. “That’s crazy!”

  “Maybe, but that’s what happened. Now, I’m going to keep one thousand two hundred and elven for the pool and split the remaining four kilocreds between us fifty-fifty. Is that agreeable?”

  I laughed. “Yeah. I think I can cope with that!” I pulled out my tablet and watched my credit balance go from five hundred and twenty to two thousand five hundred and twenty in the blink of an eye. I stared at it for a few ticks in disbelief.

  As I put my tablet away, it reminded me of something. “Oh, are you done using the portable computer I lent you? I remember you said you were going to put your stores trading algorithms up on the ship’s computer…”

  “Yeah, that’s the plan, but it’s been kinda crazy. You need it right away?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I want to start working on some of the course work I downloaded from the university. I think the plant sciences courses might be useful.”

  “Can I have a couple of days?”

  “Sure, I’m gonna be distracted by watch standing anyway. And I’m going to start working on my full share collection again.”

  Just then, Sarah came out of the quad wearing her ship-tee and boxers. She seemed a little selfconscious but crossed into the san with only a smile and a little wave.

  Pip lowered his voice and said, “We need to feed her more.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Could have something to do with the way her knees and elbows are the largest parts of her arms and legs.”

  I snorted a short laugh of agreement before standing up. “Well, I need to rack out. I’ve got the mid watch. I’m outta here.”

  “You’re not even gonna say hi to your ex-bunkie?” I heard Bev say from the quad.

  Chuckling, I walked into the quad. “Hey—” I started to say. Out of habit, my eyes were drawn to my old bunk and clipped to the partition I saw a small statue with a bit of shell as the heart.

  Bev must have noticed my shocked stare as she asked, “What?”

  “Sarah has one of the statues,” I whispered.

  “What statues?”

  I sat on the lower across from Bev. “Brill and I found this odd guy up at the flea. He had a table full of dozens of these little statues. Each had a bit of shell as a heart. When I saw them, they looked—I don’t know—kinda odd. Like some kind of religious icon or something.”

  Pip had come in behind me then and I nodded toward Sarah’s partitio
n.

  “I’ll be—” he said.

  Bev climbed out of her bunk to see what we were talking about. “What is it? Some kind of seagull?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s a raven.”

  “How can you tell?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but that’s what it is. That one was made by a different person than mine and Brill’s, but it’s definitely a raven.”

  “You’ve seen a whelkie before?” Sarah asked, coming in from the entry to the quad.

  “Yeah, in the flea market the other day.”

  “Really?” she asked. Sarah kept her arms selfconsciously in front of her as she moved past us and slipped up onto her bunk. After wrapping her blanket around her, she seemed more comfortable. I know I felt better because she was so bony it was difficult to see her that way.

  “Yeah,” I told her. “Funny old geezer had a table full of them. What did you call them?”

  “Whelkies. They’re carved from windrift and each one has a bit of whelk shell as the heart.” Sarah pulled hers down and held it up so we could see it. The rough, primitive carving had a shell with just the barest tinge of purple to it. “Some of the people on St. Cloud think of them as a kind of spirit guide.”

  “A what?” Bev asked. She seemed really interested.

  “A spirit guide. Depending on how superstitious you are, they’re anything from a curiosity like a horoscope, to a focal point for your spirit, or for some an actual guide.” Sitting there, holding her raven, and telling us about it she seemed almost relaxed. “Almost every little fishing village along the south coast has a shaman who carves these and hands them out to people. Usually if there’s sickness or tragedy in the house, the shaman will come and leave one of these behind.”

  “That is a raven, right?” I asked her.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, looking at me for the first time since she had hopped up on the bunk. “Are you sure you saw somebody selling them at the flea market?”

  “Yup. There was this strange man in homespun clothes who had a weird way of talking. I thought it was just flea market patter.”

  “Patter?” she asked.

  Bev explained, “Yeah, sometimes a vendor will have a little act they do to make their goods more appealing or to draw people in. Sometimes they’ll tell jokes, or they’ll have a story about whatever it is they’re selling.”