and started setting up the steam table, when Cookie stopped me.
“I would be most surprised if we have more than five or six people for breakfast, young Ishmael. We’ll just have omelets, I think. Would you like one?”
He was correct, of course, and his omelet was perfect. Mr. Maxwell and the captain each came down, collected some food, and left. A couple of the engineering standers came in at the watch change along with Brill Smith. None of them seemed very talkative although the two from engineering group had a desultory, “Yes it is, no it’s not,” back and forth about something that neither of them elucidated.
Brill smiled and brought her coffee to sit with me. “Quiet, eh?”
I nodded. “Not much happening this morning.”
“Rating exam in ten standays. Are you ready?”
“I think so, but…” I shrugged.
She chuckled. “You’ll do fine.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Did I hear you’re taking two tests?”
“Yeah, engineering and cargo. The cargo one looks pretty easy.”
“Then what? You gonna look for another berth?”
“No, I’m happy here and to be honest have enough to figure out without trying to unravel transfers. I’ve been aboard for less than two months and I’m still getting lost on my way to the head.” I was only half joking.
“What then? You’re just going to sit on your ratings?”
“Um, actually…” I started, but was a bit reticent about continuing.
Brill gave me a kind of sideways nod as if to say, Yeah?
“I’m going to study for steward and deck after that.”
Brill slapped the table, making the engineers jump but it didn’t stop their bickering. “I knew it.” She grinned fiercely at me. “I’m sure you can do it. Deck is the hardest because there’s so many things you have to know. I could never pass that myself. I’m just not wired that way. You’re already immersed in steward so that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“You think so?” After weeks of studying the wide-ranging engineering material, I had a hard time imagining somebody who’d mastered them would believe that deck was hard.
“Yeah, I’ve got half share rating in steward myself, but environmental is my love. I never want to do anything else.”
“Then why did you take the steward test?”
“I started with that. I made the shift to environmental about five stanyers ago and I never regretted the change. The steward rating was useful. It got me up and going, but I’d never go back.”
Cookie brought her omelet and I went to the galley to help him set the bread for later. We didn’t cook that many meals when docked, but we did go through a lot of sandwiches, so he baked extra loaves.
“You’re getting to be well thought of, young Ishmael.” he smiled and nodded out to where Brill sat with her omelet. “I had no doubts, myself.”
The rest of the day was extremely low key. After we got the bread rising, I did the normal galley clean up but so little needed doing that I was done by 09:00. Cookie gave me the rest of the morning off. “Just be back by 11:00. We’ll be doing soup and sandwiches for lunch. I’ll have you lay out the meats and cheeses.”
I returned to my studies and went over air scrubber protocols once more before reviewing the regulations on disposing of used engine oil in an environmentally safe manner. Since we used it as reactor mass in the vacuum of deep space, I wasn’t sure what that was all about, but it was on the test so I studied it.
More than once I marveled at how differently I saw the ship then as compared to when it was docked at Neris. Before, I was overwhelmed by the blur of everything around me, but docked once again the ship seemed somnolent. The same level of activity happened around me but the experience of being underway tempered my own reaction to it. By comparison, being docked felt like a vacation.
Lunch was as quiet as breakfast. A few of the crew stumbled in, some still half drunk, Most just got coffee to take down to the berthing areas while they got cleaned up for the duty shift change. Pip hadn’t returned over night, but he had mentioned relieving me for the dinner shift so I wasn’t so concerned. I remembered Sandy saying she’d be on duty, but I hadn’t seen her. With the no serving line set up, she could have come in, eaten and left, and I might never have noticed.
After lunch, Cookie filled the void of activity by having me shift stores around. “Young Ishmael, I’m expecting some shipments and we need to rotate the stock.” He loaded a list of stores he wanted moved from one place to another onto my tablet. When done, I had completely emptied three pantries and one whole freezer. I wondered what he expected in the way of supplies but didn’t want to pry.
After the stock rotation, I mopped up and made coffee before going to berthing to get ready for my first trip to a new orbital. Pip would be back to help with supper and I’d be free to explore on my own for the first time. I looked forward to a meal in a real restaurant where somebody waited on me for a change. I didn’t really care what I ate so long as I didn’t have to serve it or clean up after.
Cookie bipped me on the tablet to return to the galley while I was brushing down my civilian boots. When I got there, Sandy’s words from the previous evening came back to me. Three Darbati officials stood, and a rather battered Pip slouched, at one of the mess deck tables. His right eye was practically swollen shut and his face had a bandage taped across his left cheek. His shirt and pants looked like he’d been used to swab a muddy deck.
Cookie caught my attention when I entered. “Mr. Wang, please help Mr. Carstairs to his bunk, if you would.”
I got him to his feet and we headed for the berthing area. He moved carefully, and winced with practically every step. He didn’t speak and neither did I. As we left the mess deck, I heard Cookie thanking the officials for bringing Pip back to the ship.
When we got to the berthing area, I asked, “Can you make it up to your bunk?”
He shook his head slightly. “Ribs cracked.”
I lowered him to Beverly’s bed while I made up the empty one under his.
I helped him out of his filthy civvies and rolled him into the fresh sheets. He didn’t say a word.
“Can I get you anything?”
He shook his head slowly. “Need sleep,” he mumbled a few more unrecognizable words and I think he was actually out before he finished speaking.
When I got back to the mess, the Darbatis were gone. I found Cookie in the galley. “I am sorry, Ishmael, but I must cancel your liberty for the evening.”
“Yeah, Cookie, of course. No problem. I didn’t have any big plans.”
I waited for him to say something more, but he drifted through the galley straightening and organizing. I went to the mess and got us both cups of coffee.
“Thank you,” he said in a quiet tone.
“What did the Darbatis say?”
“He was found in a cul-de-sac, beaten and robbed. He had no wallet, no id. Only the clothes he wore ashore. He regained consciousness just long enough to give the name of the ship. Fortunately, his injuries are not serious: a few cracked ribs, black eye, and the laceration on his cheek. He also has a knot on the back of his head, but no concussion. Pip will be fine in a day or two, but right now, he’s in rough shape.”
I wondered if Cookie knew just how bad off Pip was. I’m sure the physical injuries were nothing compared to the loss of the Grishom.
He looked at me apologetically. “You’ll have to cover his duty rotations, I’m afraid.”
I grinned at him. “Well, the show must go on. What’s on the menu for dinner?”
We each focused on setting up for dinner mess. Cookie had a pasta casserole baking in the oven. We pulled it out and set it up buffet-style with some of his crusty rolls. I put out a chafing dish with a green vegetable medley. There was pie and ice cream for dessert, but I left the ice cream in the freezer.
Word of Pip’s injuries had spread throughout the ship. The mood in the mess deck was even more subdued than what could be accounted for simply by being docked. Cookie baked bread earlier in the day, so I ran it through the slicer and bagged it. I prepared a meat and cheese tray for midwatch and placed it in the ready cooler. The familiar routine helped a little.
Cookie excused himself and disappeared for about ten ticks. When he returned, he gave me a quick report. “He is sleeping quietly. Beverly is there.” We went back to dealing with dinner, such as it was.
I was surprised at the level of concern for a quarter share screw up. Of course I didn’t think of him that way,
