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  I was still running the logs and checking the maintenance schedule so I wasn’t looking at her when I said, “Port Newmar.”

  She was still standing there when I finished my checks. “Is that what you want?” she asked with a very serious expression.

  “What?” I asked because I completely mislaid the thread of our conversation while I got my watch going.

  “The academy?” she asked with as much exasperation as I’ve ever heard from her.

  “I don’t even know what that means, B. How can I possibly know if it’s what I want? Mr. von Ickles ordered me to consider going, so I’m looking into it. Since he hasn’t ordered me to make a decision I’m covered for now,” I said.

  Brill, for some reason, wasn’t getting the joke. “You’d have to leave the Lois,” she said at last.

  “Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “That’s a big minus, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m still working on what I wanna be unless I grow up.” I smiled but she didn’t return it.

  Finally she nodded. “Yeah, okay. Just keep me up to date on what you’re thinking about, though, okay?”

  “Of course, B. I can’t see anything happening too soon and I don’t think it’s something I can decide between here and Betrus, do you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m gonna go get some dinner. See you on the mess deck?”

  “Sure. Cookie’s frying chicken tonight and I’m starved.”

  She turned and left then, still frowning. I thought she said something else but I only caught “…careful what I wish for” before the hatch closed behind her. Whomever she was talking to, it wasn’t me.

  Sometimes that woman is a puzzle I thought to myself. Then I laughed at the sometimes part.

  It only took a few more ticks to settle into the watch and by 18:15 I was ready to head up for something to eat. I was looking forward to some quiet time with my tablet afterwards, as the only thing on my schedule was the VSI and an unknown number of ASIC acknowledgments. I joined a group who had already eaten and was right about the fried chicken. It was great. Brill seemed a little distracted but I didn’t mention the academy again and neither did she. In the back of my mind, I was a little miffed that this woman who had been on my case about my future was now apparently upset because I was doing what she asked. In any event, Diane and Francis were both there ,and we had a nice time in spite of the occasional frown that creased Brill’s brow.

  I ate quickly and went back to work, taking a piece of granapple pie and a fresh cup of coffee with me for company. If she wanted to talk, she knew where to find me. It still freaked people out that I could eat in environmental. Most couldn’t stand breathing the thick, green-smelling air, let alone mixing it with food. The scent didn’t bother me. I actually found it kinda reassuring. After spending so many weeks there, I hardly noticed it any longer.

  As I ate my pie and kept an eye on the readouts, I pulled up information on the academy at Port Newmar from The Spacer’s Handbook, a kind of encyclopedia of everything there was to know about life in the Deep Dark. The information was sparse, but one thing I hadn’t foreseen was that the academy was actually a college with a pretty high tuition of ten kilocreds a year. I realized that I had surprised Mr. von Ickles with my recent trading success but I didn’t understand how he expected me to come up with forty kilocreds plus the additional money for room and board.

  The article went on to note that a person could graduate with a science degree in one of three specialties and there were also some minors. Having spent most of my life at the university enclave, none of this was difficult to decode. The fine print said, “Successful completion of this course of study leads to a Bachelor of Science Degree and the opportunity to sit for the Confederated Planets Joint Committee on Trade Third Mate’s License Exam.”

  So the bottom line was, four years of school, at least sixty kilocreds, and you still had to pass the exam. I idly wondered how difficult the test was and why anybody bothered with the academy anyway.

  The ASIC nagged me again and I put the academy out of my mind. I spent the rest of the watch going through the Able Spacer test materials and running practice exams, except for the half stan I took off for the VSI. Francis relieved me right on time. All told it was a quiet watch, but I’d learned a thing or two.

  Tabitha was surprised to see me come into the office for the exam. “What are you doing here? I thought engineering was yesterday.”

  “I’m a glutton for punishment. I’m also going for Able Spacer,” I told her.

  “Just like me?”

  “Tabitha, nobody could be just like you,” I teased.

  Mr. von Ickles interrupted, “If you two are quite ready?”

  “Yes, sar,” we both answered together.

  He sat us on either side of the office and we began. It wasn’t as rigorous as the spec three test had been, but I took my time and finished it just ahead of Mr. von Ickles announcement, “Time!”

  Tabitha was still there, too, and we both looked up as we put our styluses down.

  “Congratulations, you both now rate as Able Spacers and I will so note this in your individual jackets this afternoon.”

  Tabitha and I both grinned and I lingered afterward, dithering with my tablet while she left the office. When she was gone, I turned to Mr. von Ickles. “I considered it, sar,” I told him.

  “That didn’t take long,” he said.

  “Well, sar, I looked it up in The Handbook. I didn’t realized that the academy is a real college. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect.”

  “And your problem with college is…?” he asked. “Wasn’t your mother a professor?”

  “Yes, sar. I’m very familiar with the institution, and I know that the costs go way beyond tuition. There are books, room and board, lab fees. All in all it can get very expensive really fast.”

  “All true,” he admitted. “And at the academy you have expenses for uniforms and other required gear, along with the expense of maintenance to keep it all cleaned and in good shape. Is that the only problem?”

  “Well, no, sar. The Handbook said that you don’t get a license but just the degree and you have to sit for the license afterward. That means that even after spending four years and about sixty kilocreds you’ll still have nothing.”

  “You’d have a degree,” he pointed out.

  “What good is a degree in being an officer? What if you don’t pass the test?”

  He laughed out loud at that. “Mr. Wang, you are a test taking machine. Do you seriously mean to sit there and tell me that, having completed four years of intensive, specialized training specifically established to teach you what you need to know in order to pass that test, you think you might actually fail it?”

  “Well, sar, when you put that way…”

  “Mr. Wang, I came through the academy myself, graduated just three stanyers ago. I’m going to sit for Second in a few months. I went because I wanted to sail in the Deep Dark. I could have been a deck hand, and we need deck hands, but somebody encouraged me to look beyond that. I’m not going to tell you it’s not hard. It’s damned hard. I’m not going to tell you it’s cheap. It’s not cheap. The question is whether or not it’s worth it, and you’re the only one who can decide that. I think you’d be a good officer. What you believe is totally up to you.”

  “Thanks, sar, I appreciate the candor.”

  Chapter Four

  Dunsany Roads System

  2352-May-15

  We were twenty-one days out of Dunsany Roads and just securing for transition at about 10:30 when Brill broke the news that the captain was going to wait until Betrus to give me the promotion to spec three.

  “I’m sorry, Ish,” she said when she came back from the captain’s pre-jump briefing. “It’s the time-in-grade thing. You’re just so junior that they don’t want to move you up too fast.”

  “It’s all right. I told you before, it doesn’t matter to me. Thanks for pushing it forward, but don’t waste any more time on
it.”

  “But it’s not fair,” Diane said. “There’s no minimum time-in-grade for that slot.”

  “It’s okay, Diane.”

  I wasn’t sure why she was so upset, but something had her all in a twist and Brill was still being weird about the whole academy thing. For the previous two weeks, I couldn’t get her to talk about it, even during the day when we were the only two in engineering. All she’d say was, “You have to make up your own mind.”

  “I have made up my mind. I’m not going.” I kept trying to tell her. But she wouldn’t pursue the subject further.

  We jumped into Betrus at 10:35 and secured to normal operations at 10:45, so I went on my VSI and tried to clear my head. It was a nice day for a walk and it got me out of the section for a little while. There would only be a few ticks left before Diane relieved me and I could go run a few laps and maybe take a nap. I’d already started on the Messman and Cargoman exams. By the next cycle in July, I’d be ready to take them and hopefully have the whole set of full share ratings.

  The ongoing problem was that I was no closer to figuring out who I was. I wasn’t even sure what that meant. Diane was right, though, this was one of those questions best left to puddle in the back of my mind. It didn’t make any difference if I decided today or even this week. We were twenty days out of Betrus and nothing was likely to change before that.

  The VSI was almost as good as a run, though. I had to concentrate on punching the test sequence buttons in order for more than a hundred of the sensor packages stretched across the length and breadth of the ship in the correct sequence. By this time I thought I could do a VSI in my sleep, but I kept getting distracted and had to back track. I made it back by 11:30 and had a few ticks to spare before Diane relieved me.

  That was a fast-flip day and I had to be back on watch at 18:00 so I grabbed a quick lunch. Cookie had made a delicious lamb with garlic dish which he served with egg noodles and sweet peapods. Going through the line, I noticed that Sarah Krugg was looking much better. She’d been pretty abused when we picked her up at St. Cloud three months before. She came aboard with visible bruises on her face and arm and some not so obvious ones as well. Pip found her a bit disconcerting because she claimed to be the daughter of a South Coast shaman. Personally, I thought if there is such a thing as a shaman’s gift or power—whatever you wanted to call it—I really believed she might have it. There was too much we really didn’t understand in the universe for me to say it didn’t exist or wasn’t possible. She certainly had the magic touch with biscuits. Cookies biscuits were good, but not even he could match her results. I wondered if that bothered him, or if he saw it as a challenge.

  Seeing them working together, I also wondered if maybe Cookie wasn’t a bit of a shaman himself. Specialist First Chef Ralf al-M’liki from the M’bele sector was the undisputed king of the galley, but also a bit strange. It was nothing you could put your finger on, and in a good way, but there was no getting around that he knew things others did not. I always chalked it up to intuition and good observational skills, but whatever it was, I saw that same mysterious quality in Sarah. Together they were amazing.

  Pip stood next to Sarah at the serving line and he flashed his trademark grin at me. “Hey, Ish, we need to talk. Meet me here at 14:00?”

  “You bet.” Whatever Pip had in mind was usually distracting and often humorous.

  “Thanks. Now move along. People are trying to get fed here.” He waved his serving spoon.

  As I surveyed the crowded mess deck for an empty seat, I realized how much I missed him. When I had worked on the mess deck, Pip and I were joined at the hip. Now we had to make a special effort. It wasn’t because he was all that busy, but because I was now on the watch stander merry-go-round. Opening that door started me thinking of other people I missed, like Alvarez, the Second Mate from the Duchamp. Talk about a long distance non-relationship. About a hundred billion kilometers separated the Lois from the Duchamp, which was over in the Bink system. I would occasionally bury my face in my civilian jacket she had worn just to catch her scent. Gods, but I could be such an idiot.

  I settled at a table to eat my lunch, plagued by the same set of questions that was supposed to be puddled in the back of my head, ripening. Who am I? What did I want?

  “You seem even more distracted than normal, Ish,” Sandy Belterson said from across the table. Specialist Three (Astrogation) Sandra “Sandy” Belterson was what my mother would have called “a peach.” She had been on brow watch that first day when Pip picked me up at the shuttle and as such was the first person I had met on the ship.

  “Hi, Sandy. You might say that. Things have been a bit weird this trip.”

  She laughed. “They’ve always been weird, Ish. You’re just starting to notice.”

  I had to admit there was probably more to that than I wanted to believe.

  “So? Tell yer Aunt Sandy. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, I’ve been taking stock of where I am and where I’m going. Just coming out here on the ship was a big step and I’ve learned so much.” I sighed and ate some of the lamb and pasta. It was scrumptious.

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “Mr. von Ickles asked me to consider the academy.”

  “At Port Newmar?”

  I grabbed another bite before continuing. Garlic laced the rich lamb and I was hungrier than I thought. Watch standing will do that.

  “Yeah, and when I mentioned it to Brill she’s been persnickety ever since.”

  I saw a twinkle in her eye that made me think she was enjoying my discomfort too much.

  “Am I entertaining you?” I asked.

  “Yes, actually. Men can be pretty dense sometimes. Let me ask you, how would you feel if Brill left the ship?”

  “Devastated, of course.”

  “Well, you think she doesn’t feel the same way?”

  I had to digest that along with the lamb for a tick. “Okay, point taken. But she’s the one who prompted me into this whole trying to figure out what I want to be if I grow up endeavor. She pointed out that I probably wouldn’t be satisfied slopping sludge all my life, so I would think that looking into the academy would be a good thing.”

  “Perhaps, but maybe what she had in mind was you finding a different job on the Lois that would keep you happy for the next ninety to a hundred years that doesn’t involves sludge. Giving out advice is pretty easy until you get slapped with the reality of it taken to a logical conclusion.”

  “Meaning there’s a big difference between what she thought she was suggesting and what it really entails?”

  “It’s possible.” She paused. “Would you consider leaving the Lois for any reason?”

  I thought about it awhile while I chewed. It was a fair question. “The Lois is my home. She took me in when my mother died and I’m really very happy here.”

  “So there’s no problem then. Stay and enjoy your life aboard. But let me ask you something. Have you ever wondered why there aren’t any old spacers?”

  “What do you mean? We have some old spacers aboard the Lois.”

  “Really? Who? And if you look in my direction, buddy, you’re going to be plucking that plate out of your rectal region.”

  “Well, Francis is fifty,” I said while I tried to think of anybody older.

  “How long do you think he’ll live, Ish?

  “One thirty, one forty, maybe,”

  “So fifty makes him old? He’s still in the first half of his life.”

  She had me on that one and she knew it. “Okay, I guess you’re right. But what’s your point?”

  “You consider him an old spacer because you don’t have anybody to compare him to. The only people older are the captain and Mr. Maxwell. Francis is actually still a pretty young man.”

  I thought back to mom’s colleagues at the university and realized she was right. Many of them had been over a hundred and still teaching full-time.

  “There are older people working in the Deep Dark bu
t you don’t find them on ships like the Lois. They run their own mom-and-pop ships. You won’t run across them in a spacer bar and you won’t find them at the Union Hall.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Think about it. If you worked for yourself and have your family around you, why would you go to a spacer bar and get into that whole scene? Why would you look for a new berth?”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed. Ish, most people work commercial like this for maybe ten, twenty stanyers, then they get out. Crew is, ultimately, a dead end job. It’s fun for a while as you found out in Dunsany Roads, but it gets old fast. Eventually you get tired of chasing and want to start building. Brill’s coming up on her ten stanyer mark. I’ve only been doing this for five and I’m already thinking about getting out and settling down myself. I’m not officer material. I just don’t have any interest in that.”

  “Yeah, what about officers? There are a lot of older people doing that.”

  “Officers are different. It’s the difference between labor and management. We’re labor. They’re management. They make a lot more money and have a lot more opportunities. They work very hard for both, but if you’re an officer, you can always get your master’s ticket and get your own ship and run it the way you want to.”

  “Doesn’t that hat assume a lot of money and smarts?”

  “So? What doesn’t? Anybody can sit for an officer exam. A lot of people who never went to the academy do just that. You just need to pay the fee, show up on time, and take the test. The problem comes later. You’re right to have your own ship takes a lot of money, but if you’re a mate, you need to convince somebody to hire ya.”

  “Okay, so what’s the problem?”

  “Well, say you’re a skipper and you want to hire a second mate. Are you going to hire someone who studied on their own and passed the exam? Or would you prefer a person with the degree from the academy?”

  “Oh.” Sometimes I’m really stupid. “Of course.”