Free Double Share by Nathan Lowell

before Mr. Burnside barked a harsh laugh and slapped the table. Ms. DeGrut flinched at the sudden sound and movement but Ms. Menas merely looked annoyed.
    “Excellent joke, Mr. Wang. All four divisions,” Mr. Burnside chortled nastily. “All four divisions, indeed.”
    Ms. Menas placed her fork gently on her plate and leaned forward to face Mr. Burnside. “David? Perhaps you should review Mr. Wang’s jacket one more time. It seems there are some things you’ve missed,” she said quietly in the face of his derision.
    Ms. DeGrut offered a small, furtive smile in my direction but focused on her meal.
    Mr. Burnside’s expression went blank. “Indeed?” he asked, rounding on Ms. Menas. “Pray, enlighten me, Amelia? You’ve obviously seen more in his jacket than I did.”
    “Our Mr. Wang here did in fact obtain full share ratings in all four divisions, including specialist second in environmental and specialist first in systems. His service record shows commendations from three captains, and his application to the academy was endorsed by ten officers of the line.”
    Mr. Burnside’s expression went even flatter. “This land rat?” he asked finally, looking directly at me as if I were somehow to blame.
    “This land rat,” I replied with a sheepish shrug, hoping against hope to defuse the situation.
    Mr. Burnside’s eyes shuttered. His expression gave nothing away, but his words were calm and precise. “Well, it seems I owe you an apology, Mr. Wang. Very nice credentials and I look forward to working with you in the Deep Dark.”
    Ms. DeGrut went stalk still at that last comment. She was pale before, but went positively bloodless at the mention of the Deep Dark.
    Her reaction attracted the attention of Ms. Menas who leaned over to her. “Are you all right, Fredi?”
    Ms. DeGrut looked like a bird caught indoors. Her eyes darted everywhere but she didn’t look up from her plate. “Yes, Amelia, thank you. It’s nothing.” Her eyes flickered fearfully in my direction, but she kept her head down and made no further comment.
    My tablet bipped at just that moment and startled me. It was a message from the lock watch. My shipsuits had arrived.
    “Excuse me,” I told the gathered officers. “My uniforms are here, and I’ve got to sign for them and have them added to my mass allotment.”
    I stood and gathered my dirty dishes, placing them on the sideboard.
    “You can just leave those on the table, Mr. Wang,” Mr. Burnside said coldly. “The mess crew gets paid to pick this up.”
    “Aye,” I acknowledged, “old habits die hard.”
    With a nod to Ms. Menas and Ms. DeGrut, I beat a hasty retreat to the gangway. I stepped off the ship to accept the delivery from the chandlery representative and the smell of clean, fresh dock air washed over me. In a matter of a few ticks, I signed in the bundles and logged them to my mass allotment. I lugged them to my stateroom, and took the tick it needed to shake one out and put it on, hanging my khaki undress uniform in the locker.
    I felt a lot less out of place wearing a shipsuit, even a brand new one with the third mate pip on the collar tabs. I brushed my hand across the DST decal on the breast and fingered the black embroidered letters of my name. The suit itself was a neutral tan, not too far from the khaki outfit I’d just taken off. My tablet dropped into the designated pocket, and I felt a bit more settled as I headed back to the ship’s office to finish up my first watch.
    I felt like I’d been aboard a stanyer, and it hadn’t even been a half day.
    When I got back to the office, I found Mr. Burnside reviewing my jacket. He looked up as I entered and I expected to get blasted.
    He nodded at the screen. “You really do all this stuff?” he asked, baldly.
    “Yes, I’m afraid so,” I replied.
    “Wang, I owe you an apology. This is an outstanding jacket. I don’t usually bother with them—corporate hires and corporate fires. We don’t have a lot of say