Free Quarter Share: A Trader's Tale from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper by Nathan Lowell

“Well, keep up the good work. I need to get out of here before I melt and I have a lot left to do tonight.” She rose, then and spoke in a voice that carried through the steam, “Good night, crew.”
    A chorus of “G’night, Captain” came from around us in the steamy depths. She strolled out toward the showers and I couldn’t help but admire her legs.
    Pip elbowed me sharply. “She’s old enough to be your grandmother.”
    I blushed and hoped that the steamy air and the heat hid it but I heard a low chuckle from somebody just out of sight around the corner and blushed even more.
    The gym, or at least the sauna, turned out to be the social hub of the ship. Even during the afternoon, I’d find deck, engineering, and other watch standers taking advantage of the facility. Evenings were more crowded and I was as likely to see the captain or Mr. Maxwell there as anyone else. At first, I was a little nervous about seeing the captain nearly naked, not because she was a woman, but because she was the captain. It didn’t matter what she was, or wasn’t, wearing, the mantle of her office stayed with her wherever she went, so I got used to it pretty quickly.
    From that night on, my daily routine included a work out at the gym followed by a sauna. Most days we took our midafternoon break there and I found it refreshing to go back to the galley after a bit of exercise, a nice sauna, and a cool shower. We also adjusted our day to include some kind of intellectual stimulation. Between Pip’s knowledge of ships and trade, and what I was learning about cooking, we had quite a lot of expertise between us. I even got Pip to tell Cookie about his background.
    Pip was full of ideas for trading and broached one with Cookie during one of our sessions. “Trading ship’s stores? Mr. Carstairs, you shock me.” He frowned at Pip but turned his back, hiding the wink and the discreet thumbs up he gave me. “I wouldn’t dream of using inferior ingredients.”
    “Oh no, I didn’t mean that. I have to eat here too. I’m just thinking we could afford better stuff on the same budget if we get a bit creative about what we buy and where.”
    After that, Cookie and Pip spent at least a stan every day going over the inventory and budget. They were hatching something, but I didn’t know what, and Pip refused to discuss it with me. Cookie treated my friend with new respect and I found myself smiling whenever I saw them with their heads together over their tablets.
    That left me with my own problem. What specialty did I want to pursue?
    It was odd, really. My classmates back on Neris had all played the what-do-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up game with themselves and each other. I’d watched them find and explore what they thought might be their particular callings: music, art, even business, and education. Personally, I just never felt the need. Mom had insisted that I take advantage of her position and the university—for all the good that did. I’d agreed to study something, just for the sake of going, because it would buy me some time to figure out what I wanted to do, but I’d never really found the thing that made me say, “Yes. This is why I’m here.”
    Aboard the Lois , for the first time in my life, I felt the need to make some decisions. Life on a freighter was just unusual enough to have an appeal. The very idea of traveling through the Deep Dark intrigued me. Besides, with my food and living expenses covered, I could probably make a pretty good living. I hadn’t seen a pay chit yet, so I wasn’t sure. The company typically disbursed pay just before docking, and I had no need for creds aboard the ship. I knew there would be taxes and union dues deducted, along with a mandatory retirement contribution, but there would also be a share of the profit from the trip, a small share, but the potential for a little something extra. Somehow the pay didn’t seem to matter. Lying in my bunk, listening to the low voices of my shipmates