Part 1 (1/2)
Full Share.
Lowell, Nathan.
In memory of Patricia Wallace Whitney Lane.
When I was a kid, Aunt Pat would bring over large grocery bags filled with paperbacks. Many of them were odd little books called *Ace Doubles', which I devoured.
Without her, I might never have become the fan-or writer-that I am today.
Chapter One.
Dunsany Roads System.
2352-April-23.
All children, except one, grow up. While I had never considered that the one might be me, recent events had punctuated that reality. The thing to keep in mind about up is that it isn't a destination like grandmother's house or a condition you arrive at like growing bored or becoming hungry. Up is a process that ends-as the Bard has said-gravely. I was reflecting on this idea while on the afternoon watch and, to be truthful, more than a little remorsefully. The Lois McKendrick was three days out of port, clawing her way out of Dunsany's gravity well bound for Betrus. Our stay at the orbital had been so surreal and bizarre that I wondered idly if someone had laced the air supply with an aerosol hallucinogen.
The console jarred me out of my reverie by initiating an Automated System Integrity Check. The status message blinked Running for less than a tick before changing to Air Systems Nominal and under that Water Systems Nominal. I acknowledged the message and went back to my funk.
The rollercoaster of the last week had been emotionally exhausting. It started with my self-absorbed exhibitionism at Chez Henri, continued with a rendezvous with the Second Mate of the Duchamp, and ended with my pathetic debacles with three of my s.h.i.+pmates. The fact that they were, as Henri Roubaille had said, ”three of the most delightful and strikingly beautiful women on this end of the galaxy,” made me feel even more like a mooncalf. I was left with the singular and distinct impression that whatever else might have happened I had been an idiot. Given my gender-male-and my age-eighteen-that should have come as no surprise, but I had hoped for better from myself.
Even with all this berating, I had to admit that it hadn't been all bad. I think I helped the new mess deck attendant, Sarah Krugg, come to grips with years of abuse she had suffered on St. Cloud. She was shaping up to be a crackerjack cook and might very well be the best natural born salesperson in the galaxy. As for her practicing a little South Coast shamanism on the side, well, we all have our individual faiths.
Pip-that's Phillip Carstairs, cargo genius-and I had made a tidy profit on our last leg and we had some interesting cargoes for Betrus. The McKendrick Mercantile Cooperative, a trading club for the crew that I helped to setup, was going great guns. The group who was becoming known as the co-ed crochet team was seeing fantastic success. They bought yarns in one port, crocheted their goods in the Deep Dark, and sold the completed products at our next destination. They'd just been getting started going into Dunsany Roads and I was glad to see my little idea was working out so well for them.
The chrono clicked over to 16:00 and I realized I hadn't done my Visual Site Inspections yet. I slaved my tablet to the watch stander station and pulled up the sensor overlay.
”Hey, B,” I called to Specialist One (Environmental) Brilliantine ”Brill” Smith, ”I'm going on VSI now.”
Brill was in her office with the door open. ”Stay on the path. Write if you get work,” she answered back. This was one of those silly ritual responses we all used. She'd just told me to check the sensors in the specified order so that if something unexpected happened they'd be able to find me quickly. The last part was an instruction to notify her if I found something that needed attention.
”Aye, Chief,” I replied. I couldn't help but smile. Brill had that effect on me, among others, and I sighed.
I headed out to check each environmental sensor package by working my way down the five hundred and twenty-eight meter spine of the s.h.i.+p. It was a good hike and helped to break up the monotony of a watch. The other benefit of the trip was that it's hard to carry a good funk the whole distance. It gets too heavy and begins to fall along the wayside in pieces.
By the time I got back, there wasn't a lot of the watch left, but I settled in with my spec two environmental lessons and worked on that awhile. The test was in a few days, and if I pa.s.sed, I'd be promoted to spec three and finally qualify to fill the slot left when Gregor Avery left to take a new berth on the Audrey Moore. I had just enough time to run a practice test and scored a whopping ninety-six when Francis, that's spec three Francis Gartner, showed up to relieve me.
Francis was a good guy. He was a tall, skinny drink of water who held a Ph.D. in astrophysics but worked in environmental just so he could get out into s.p.a.ce. Seeing him made me consider that notion. For all the time we spent out in the Deep Dark, we saw precious little of it. Sometimes it seemed like we got on board, sealed the locks, sat confined for some specified number of weeks, and when the doors opened again we found ourselves in a remarkably similar orbital. I supposed the bridge crew must get to experience it on a different level, but for most of us, we really didn't get to see much.
”Hey, Francis,” I greeted him as he stepped through the hatch right on the dot of 17:45.
”Hey, Ish. How goes?”
Francis and I had had our differences, but that was in the past. Enough wind through the sails and all that. ”Good. Looks like I'm ready to take the test,” I told him. ”Did you have a good time in Dunsany? We didn't see much of you.”
A kind of silly smile formed on his face. ”Oh yeah, very good.” Francis didn't elaborate, and I was beginning to smarten up enough not to ask.
”You ready for duty?” I asked him.
”Let's do it.”
”Mr. Gartner, all ops normal. No maintenance scheduled or performed. You may take the watch.”
”I relieve you, Mr. w.a.n.g. I have the watch,” he replied formally.
And with that I was off for the next twelve hours and free to sit in my bunk and stew all I wanted. Brill stepped out of her office then and smiled at us. ”Hi, guys!”
”Hi, B,” Francis said.
I just waved.
”You headed up to dinner, Ish?” she asked.
”Yup. Wanna join me? My treat.”
”Cheapskate!” she teased and even Francis laughed.
The thing to remember about Brill is that she's tall. Not like what you think of as tall, I mean really, really tall. In a galaxy of people who seldom break the two meter threshold, Brill tops out just above two and a quarter. She's also beautiful, smart, and s.e.xy. Brown eyes, a willowy build, and the fierceness of a Valkyrie when she puts her mind to it. She was one of the three women Roubaille had been referring to. Like the rest of us, she was currently zipped into a s.h.i.+psuit, and she even made that look good-really good-heart achingly good.
We set out and I held the hatch for Brill who ducked carefully through it. I suspected that being so tall on a s.h.i.+p had to be a headache, quite literally, although she never complained about it. She never complained about anything.
”You don't look good, Ish,” she said quietly after the hatch closed.
”Aw, you know. I'm still adjusting. That was a rough ride through Dunsany. I need to pace myself a little more when we get to Betrus.” I smiled.
”You need to do more than that,” she said seriously.
”Like what?”
”If I can offer some advice, you need to figure out who you are and then go for it.”
”I know. I'm working on that.”
”No, I don't think you are. You've made a start on Dunsany, but you need to do more.”
”What are you talking about?”