Full Share Part 29

"This is fantastic," Pip gushed as we pulled in the orbital beacon data. We were sitting on the mess deck at mid-morning as he studied the new displays of the current commodities data.

"But is this going to help you make more profitable trades?" I asked.

"Are you kidding? I'll be able to find cargo opportunities that I never would have seen before. With this level of detail two or three days out...wow."

"It just doesn't seem like that big a deal. Are you sure?"

"Look, Ish, in trading you need two things: information and time. You need the information to know what's possible, and the time to decide what to do with it. With these new displays-and the extra economic data-we're going to start making better trades right away. Look," he said, pointing out one of the new pricing trend lines. "That line is dropping like a rock. If we wait two days to sell those igniter plugs when we get to port, and if that trend continues, we'll have lost three percent on the value of the trade. If we can lock in the price now, that's money we'll be making that we didn't even know about before."

I saw his point. "But why isn't everybody doing this?"

"They're probably trying to. We're succeeding because you've given me a set of economic tools that are custom-built for exactly what we're doing. We really need to show this to Mr. Cotton. He'll be impressed."

"Okay, what do we need to do next with this?"

"I really think we need to get Mr. Cotton and Mr. Maxwell in on the brainstorming."

"Sounds reasonable. Mr. Maxwell's on watch now. Why don't you talk to him this afternoon, maybe get Mr. Cotton, too? I've got the afternoon watch, and maybe we can sit down after cleanup tonight and go over it?"

Pip agreed and I headed to the gym for a pre-watch run and sauna. I had about a stan before I had to report to the bridge. After thirteen months of running almost every day, I could now run for most of that time without any problems. I had been working on picking up my pace, since I was doing reasonably well with endurance. It felt good.

When I got to the bridge I marveled over the big blue ball that was Umber. I never found out why they named a blue planet for a shade of brown, but there were stranger things than that. The system we'd just left, for example, Niol, was actually an acronym for "Not In Our Lifetimes." The story was that the original settlers had thought about the prospect of making the planet profitable. They had been wrong, of course, but the name had already stuck.

d.i.c.k Graves was on the bridge, working with Sandy Belterson to start the astrogation updates. It was a lengthy process that often ran from two to three days depending on the volume of pending updates. It required gathering data before docking, through the port-visit, and a day or more past departure. I watched awhile as they laboriously took data from one screen and pasted it bit by bit into another screen.

"There isn't a process for loading those records?" I asked.

Sandy gave me one of her you-really-don't-understand-this looks and said, "Yes, Ishmael, there is. You're looking at it."

I grinned at her. "I was thinking of a more automated process. Like a command that would grab all the updates and put them in the database, but I see your point."

Both of them shook their heads, and d.i.c.k said, "Nope. This is just one of the banes of the astrogator's existence. The problem is that we have to find the ones that apply. We can't just take all of them so we have to do it manually."

"Why can't you take them all? And how do you know if you missed one?"

Sandy pointed out the contents of an update. "Some of these are for areas of the galaxy we'll never go, like this one is for the Harnden quadrant. There's no sense to grab that, it just wastes time. And we don't know for sure if we missed one. That's why there's two of us doing it."

"So, you're culling the updates because it would just take too long to do them all?"

d.i.c.k grinned at me and said, "Exactly. This stuff takes forever."

"If we got the system to do it, so we could grab them all in a tick or ten, is there any reason why that would be a problem?"

"If you could figure out how to do that, you'd be a hero to astrogators across the galaxy," Sandy said.

d.i.c.k shot me a squint-eyed look. "Why? Do you think you can?"

"I'm still trying to figure out why it hasn't been done already. It looks like it would be pathetically easy to do, so what I can't see is why hasn't somebody else done it by now?"

"I don't understand," Sandy said. "How could it be pathetically easy? We have to grab the updates of the beacons and manually go through them."

"True, but this information comes from the same source that Pip's cargo data is coming from-the jump and orbital beacons-right?"

"Well, I don't know about Pip's cargo data," d.i.c.k said, "but yeah, these are coming from there. We get a few from the jump beacons, but most of it comes from the orbital loads."

I took them over to my station and showed them the cargo and price loads that we captured for Pip and what we did with the data to match it against our flight plans and projected alternatives. It didn't take long to give them the tour and when I was done they both stared into my screen like-well, I don't know like what. Their expressions were something between disbelief and l.u.s.t.

"Sandy," d.i.c.k said, "would you mind carrying on with those updates, while I have a long chat with our savior here?"

Sandy shook herself away from peering into the screen. "Well, the shorter that long chat, the better," she said with a little grin. "But if you could move it along, I'd be grateful." She headed back to her station. Mr. von Ickles smiled at me from the other side of the bridge.

The rest of the watch went by in nothing flat and by the time it was over, d.i.c.k had given me a little tour of the astrogation system. The basic structure was not that much different from the cargo data. The actual content was different, but they had very similar underlying princ.i.p.als. When first section came to relieve us, d.i.c.k and Sandy had their heads together, talking excitedly as they headed down the ladder.

Mr. von Ickles followed me off the bridge. At the foot of the ladder he said, "You seem to have gotten over your concern about being a burden on Lois."

"Yes, sar, in a way. I still want to feel like I'm contributing but between Pip's cargo stuff and this new project in astrogation, I think I can."

"I think so, too, Mr. w.a.n.g. Mr. Maxwell was just telling me that the cargo work is excellent and I think you can expect a few little tasks from him on our next leg. He and Mr. Cotton both would like some enhancements to the manifest system to get a better representation of the load we're carrying."

"Well, sar, I'll stop worrying about job security so long as I'm doing some good."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "You're helping Lois. You may not feel like it, but think of this like working on the mess deck. We all work better and more effectively because we don't have to worry about fixing a meal every time we're hungry. You're finding rough places in the systems that have fallen through the cracks. Systems officers like me know about them, but we're tied up with routine office work. System specs, who might be able to address them, typically need to be justified eighteen ways to Sunday before a slot is opened up. Your position is unique because we got it approved based on a threat to the s.h.i.+p, not on a demonstrated work load."

My stomach growled loudly enough for him to hear it.

"I guess I shouldn't have mentioned the mess deck," he said with a laugh.

"Well, perhaps we could head down there, sar? I think Cookie's got lamb chops for dinner." My stomach growled in agreement and Mr. von Ickles led the way.

During the approach and docking at Umber, my mind started wandering back along the voyage. The cargo systems were shaping up and I looked forward to working with d.i.c.k Graves on the long in-port watches. We had a prototype astrogation update system in place but d.i.c.k wanted to get Ms. Avril's input on it. We would have time to sit down and really go through it while in port. I thought it felt good to have things finally getting under control.

Thinking that was one of those fate tempting thoughts and I regretted as soon as it flashed across my mind. Something of that regret must have shown on my face because Mr. von Ickles leaned over and asked, "Are you all right, Mr. w.a.n.g?"

"Yes, sar. Just had an uneasy thought for a second."

"Looked like you'd been stabbed!" he commented with a quiet chuckle.

I smiled back at him, but I just knew I was going to live to regret my previous thought, so I tried to counteract it by thinking about all the miserable things I could. I knew it wouldn't work, but I hoped for some damage control.

We were soon docked and first section relieved us. It was the first time we had docked before breakfast so everybody was a little thrown off. It made little difference to me. Third section had had the mid-watch so it was just a little livelier for us. It worked out well for first section. It did not matter all that much in the long haul, I realized. It all evened out in the end.

I stood up, stretched, and looked out on either side to see who we were near. There was another container s.h.i.+p docked to starboard with the double F's of Federated Freight emblazoned on the side of the bow section. The configuration didn't look quite like the Lois. I thought she had more cargo sections and looked longer. It was hard to tell looking back in the dark like that. On the port side was a bulk hauler in blue and gray. It had a C superimposed on an L all in a eight pointed star. I knew the logo, but could not dredge up who it belonged to. It would come to me.

I leaned down to secure my console. We had been relieved and the captain and Mr. Maxwell were negotiating liberty. I was not in any hurry to leave the s.h.i.+p, myself. Mid-watch was still mid-watch and I would need a little nap before I did anything. The co-op would be spending the day on preliminaries in preparation for a movement in force. Mr. von Ickles had let me reserve their booth. I got a kick out of handing the communications traffic for them.

As I headed for the ladder, Mr. Maxwell and the captain finished with their negotiations and Bev made the liberty announcement. I smiled at her on the way by, but stepped aside to let the captain have the right of way on the ladder.

"Thank you, Mr. w.a.n.g," she said leading the way down, "And if you have a few moments, perhaps you'd accompany me to the cabin?"

I knew I should not have thought things were under control. They are never under control. "Of course, Captain," I said. I tried to sound relaxed and unconcerned.

I must not have succeeded, because she glanced up at me-one quick flick of the eyes-and I thought she smiled.

I sighed to myself. If there was one person whose smile bothered me more than Mr. Maxwell's, it was the captain's. Her cabin was only a few steps from the bridge so I didn't have a lot of time to think about it before we were there.

"This will only take a few moments, Mr. w.a.n.g," she said, closing the door behind us. "Please, have a seat." She indicated the sofa.

I am always a little put off-balance by that. If it was not going to take very long, why sit? Still, she was the captain, so I sat.

She settled across from me and said, "So? What have you thought about the academy?"

"Well, Captain, I thought we'd agreed that I'd work out my contract before I decided."

"And the academy is, first and foremost, a college, Mr. w.a.n.g. If you wait until next September to make up your mind, don't you foresee a bit of a problem?"

"What problem, Captain?" I asked before thinking it through. "Cla.s.ses start in-" and, of course there was a problem.

She waited me out.

"You're right, Captain. I would need to apply."

"Exactly." She let me stew for a heartbeat or two before adding, "You can always choose not to go, but if you don't apply. You won't have that choice."

"Well, Captain, I'd have to be accepted, too," I pointed out.

"Of course, but that's not likely to be a problem." The corners of her mouth curled into the smallest of smiles.

"They must get thousands of applicants, Captain. I'd have to beat out a lot of people."

"Approximately fifteen thousand for each fall's cla.s.s. They take the top five hundred."

"Not as many as I thought, sar. My mother occasionally served on the admissions committee at the University at Neris and I know they got about five thousand, but they could only accept Neris Company employees and their families."

"It's a bit of a specialized degree, Mr. w.a.n.g," she said, half-smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. "As I believe you pointed out yourself."

She had me on that one. "Good point, Captain," I said with a sigh. Part of me thought, you've got ratings. You don't need to be an officer. Another part of me screamed, Go, you d.a.m.ned fool. At least apply so you can make up your mind later!

She waited me out.

The screaming side won-it usually did. "Well, I guess I better find out when they start accepting applications and see what I need to do, then, eh, Captain?"

"Admissions begin October first for the next fall's term. You need to fill out an application, and submit it with at least three references. Those with experience or ratings need to include a copy of their personnel jackets as well."

"You just happened to know that off the top of your head, Captain?"

"Mr. w.a.n.g, I've sent more than my share of candidates to Port Newmar. I don't intend to stop any time soon."

"Do you earn a bounty or something, Captain?" I asked, thinking they might get a referral fee.

"Indeed, Mr. w.a.n.g, I get the satisfaction of helping good people become officers and do good work. It's part of the McKendrick legacy." She paused for a few heartbeats. "I like the feeling I get from knowing that coming generations are well represented by the kind of people my great-grandmother would have approved of. Even if I'm not quite ready to fade off into the rim myself yet," she added with a smile.

"Can I ask how long you've been planning this, Captain?"

"Do you remember O'Rourke?" she asked.

"Of course, Captain. She said I reminded her of her nephew."

"Well, I've been planning since O'Rourke told me that you were good people."

"But you hadn't even met me, sar!"

"Mr. w.a.n.g, I've known Annie O'Rourke for almost thirty-five stanyers. We served together on three s.h.i.+ps. If Annie O'Rourke says you're good people, I believe her."

"I had no idea, Captain."

"Annie said you were curious and you took responsibility. You'd have never even found out about the opening if she hadn't decided you'd work out. It was just luck that we were due in Neris and were opening up that slot when you needed it."

Personally, I did not think it was luck, but I felt a little funny thinking it was Lois. "What happened to him, Captain? Do you know?"

"Annie said he got a job working for Neris Company as a fry cook in one of the company commissaries. He's still there as far as I know."

I thought about that for a tick. "Well, I better get going on that application then. Do you happen to know where I can find one, Captain?"

She grinned, pulled out her own tablet, and pressed a few functions. "In your inbox," she said. "Look it over now, please. I'll answer any questions you may have about it."

Somehow that did not surprise me, although what I found in my inbox did.

"Captain, this application appears to be filled out."

"Yes, Mr. w.a.n.g. You only need to endorse it as being a true and accurate representation."

I scrolled through the pages. It had my school records from Neris, my ratings, everything. I got to the end of the forms and kept scrolling through the letters of recommendation. The first was from the captain, followed by Mr. Maxwell, and Mr. von Ickles, completing the required three. I kept scrolling and found one from Mr. Kelley, and another from Mr. Cotton, and even one from Ms. Avril. "Every officer aboard?" I asked.

"Yes, Mr. w.a.n.g," the captain said, "and a few others."

I looked back and kept scrolling. Captain Ca.s.sandra Harrison of the Samuel Slater. Second Mate Alicia Alvarez of the Marcel Duchamp. Third Mate Alberta Ross of the William Hedley. Captain Penelope Carstairs of the Bad Penny. I'm sure I blushed over the first two names, but I couldn't place the third. I didn't know any officers from the Hedley.

"What's the matter, Mr. w.a.n.g?" the captain asked. "You don't recognize Al?"

"Al?" I exclaimed. "She said she was in astrogation!"

"She is. She's their astrogation officer, and a d.a.m.ned fine one at that. A bit eccentric, but she can plot a course to the gates of h.e.l.l and have you back in time for dinner."

I was dumbfounded. "About Captain Harrison, sar..."

"I'm asking no questions, Mr. w.a.n.g. Tell me no lies. Ca.s.s sent that letter without my asking. She popped it into my inbox just before the Slater pulled-out. The cover note said, *Please add my recommendation to the file.'"

"But how?" I didn't know even what I was trying to ask. Luckily the captain did.