“Nice work, but the red draws attention I don’t want, and the rivets were stuck on with mastic, not punched through the fabric.”
“You think the red draws attention?” I suppressed a certain level of amusement.
She nodded matter-of-factly as she sifted through a display of quilted, silk dresses.
“And the aluminum pullover and black leather doesn’t?”
She grinned. “Well, yeah, probably, but when people see me in red, they think I’m…well, someone I’m not. When I’m in black, they leave me alone.” She looked a little embarrassed, so I didn’t push it.
At the next booth, I saw some of the beefalo rugs and robes that Pip had been talking about. The robes were nice and the rugs were quite soft. The short fur felt lush against my hand, but when I hefted one of the robes, I understood Pip’s comment about the mass. It must have weighed ten kilos. The rugs were heavier.
Bev raised an eyebrow as she saw me examining the goods.
“Pip thought these might do well on Margary. Soft and warm in a cold, hard world.”
She nodded. “Maybe yes, maybe no. Mass is the problem though, right?”
“Yup.”
We continued our perambulations and at the next turn, a wizened, old woman sat behind a heavy bench and worked the most amazing patterns into a piece of leather. Bev and I stood, along with several others, spellbound as she pierced, punched, pounded, and laced the lovely natural brown material. Her gnarled fingers moved with amazing speed and grace. In what seemed like only a few minutes, she lifted the leather from her work bench and displayed the finished belt to the crowd’s appreciative applause before hanging it carefully on a long rack with several dozen others. She fished under the bench and brought out another length of supple, creamy brown strap. The scent of it cut through even the smell of the crowd. I was drawn to the rack of belts and began fingering through them.
Beverly stood close beside me and admired them as well. “This is spectacular work,” she spoke softly. She took one from the rack and flexed it several times. “And this leather is amazing.”
The lady behind the bench noticed us but didn’t interrupt.
Beverly turned to her. “How much?”
The woman flickered a glance in our direction and smiled. “Are you serious, dearie, or just curious?” She spoke without looking up and I thought she had a pleasant lilt in her voice.
“Serious.”
“Twenty creds each, fifty for three,” the old woman said, working a spider web pattern into the surface of the new leather on her bench.
Bev grunted. “Interesting but not that interesting.” She paused for about five heartbeats before making a counter offer. “Hundred creds for ten?”
The old woman grinned. “Child, my husband would beat me if I took so little. You cannot ask that of a frail old woman such as myself. But perhaps I could sell you seven…” She continued smoothly working the leather.
“Eight,” Beverly answered after a single heartbeat.
“Sold,” the woman replied as she put the finishing touches on the spider web. She finally looked up and gave a brief nod in my direction. “Your boy toy can have the same deal if he likes,” she added, obviously talking to Bev and not me.
I blushed. Bev smirked. “How about it, Ish? Want to buy a new belt?”
In the end, Bev and I bought eight belts each. They were exquisite and weighed less than a kilo total.
As we left the booth, I murmured to Beverly, “I hope Pip wasn’t counting on that mass.”
She glanced my way. “You and Pip are working together?”
“He’s trying to show me the ropes, but after Darbat, he’s starting from scratch again.”
“You mean along with the empty container and the ship’s stores dealing, right?” She grinned at me.
“I know roughly what he’s doing there, but this kind of thing…” I waved my hand around at the flea market, “is more what I thought the idea of private trading would be like.”
She nodded, turning her head to scan the flea market. “Some of it. Pip seems to have good connections and he does his homework. I’m more spur of the moment. I’m also full share so I have more mass to spend and I can afford to carry stuff a bit before I unload it. Lemme know if you get into a bind, Ishmael. I can buy these from you if you need to recover the creds. The half-kilo isn’t going to matter much in the long run, though.”
“Thanks, that makes me feel a little better.”
“No problem.” She grinned, chucking me playfully under the chin. “Besides, I need to look out for my boy toy.”
We continued our tour around the flea market, but we didn’t buy anything else. Beverly spent most of her time looking at various crafted items like clothing, jewelry, and leather goods. She had me try on a leather coat that was to die for. It was a rich dark brown, smooth and supple, lined with black silk. It fastened with polished, stainless steel buckles that clipped together cleverly in a kind of loop and toggle arrangement. It fit like it was custom made for me.
Unfortunately, it also cost twice what I had and weighed almost three full kilos.
Bev shrugged. “Costs nothing to look. You’ll be full share soon and you won’t be worried about mass so much.”
Eventually, we both got hungry, thirsty, and tired, so we sauntered down to a little bistro on level eight that catered to the flea market trade. They had some hearty sandwiches of thinly sliced and sauteed beefalo, onions, peppers and cheese on crusty rolls. We each got one and I couldn’t resist sampling the coffee. Beverly bought a beer and we rested our tired feet for almost a whole stan before heading to the ship.
When we got back to berthing, I changed into a fresh shipsuit and hung the belts in my locker along with my civvies. Beverly stowed her purchases as well but went out with some of the bridge crew for what I suspected would be more of a pub-crawl than a shopping jaunt. I went up to the galley to see what was happening.
Cookie and Pip were stowing the buckets of Sarabanda Dark and I walked in just in time to help them lock down the last load. I whistled at the quantity. “That’s a lot of coffee.”
He wiped the sweat off his face with a towel. “You have no idea.”
Cookie consulted his tablet. “That’s the last of our trade stores.” He looked up smiling. “These should be very useful.”
Pip looked it over and shook his head. “I hope so. If this doesn’t work we’re going to be drinking a lot of Sarabanda.” He turned to me. “How was liberty?”
“Fun. I went shopping.”
Cookie looked up. “Shopping? For what?”
“Well, nothing, really. I ran into Bev at the lock and she dragged me up to the flea market on level nine. We’ve been up there all day wandering from stall to stall.”
“Bev? Our Big Bad Beverly goes to the flea market?”
“Hey, she’s a good person to go with. Nobody messed with us.”
Cookie chuckled. “I can see where Ms. Arith would be able to provide a security buffer.”
“She dickers pretty well, too. At least I think it was good. I can’t haggle for squat.”
Pip looked interested. “What’d she buy?”
“Belts. Beautiful leather belts. I got some, too.”
“Belts?”
I nodded. “There was this little old lady working them on a bench right there in the flea market. She had a big rack of them. She was asking twenty creds each, or three for fifty. Bev got her down to a hundred creds for eight.”
Pip nodded appreciatively. “Not bad. Twelve and a half each, but that’s a lot of cred for a belt.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but they are gorgeous.”
Cookie broke in, “We’re done here. Why don’t you take your break?”
I took him down to my locker and took out the bundle of belts. I spread them out on my bunk so Pip could get a good look. He picked up each one, examining it, front and back, and running the lengths through his hands. He flexed them and even smelled them.
“If you start tasting it, I’m gonna make you buy it.” I was only half joking.
He grinned. “This is excellent stuff. This is beefalo leather but it’s been expertly tanned and the workmanship on these patterns-well, you just don’t see that these days. Mostly it’s punched out by machine. This is real hand
