Nathan Lowell - Quarter Share

The process wasn’t difficult. A metal frame sandwiched the matrix foundation and held it taut. This film gave the algae something to adhere to. We pulled each one out of the scrubber, released the clips that held the front and back together, separated the halves, and rolled the old material out like a kind of slimy, brown jelly roll that was a meter long and half a meter thick. Then we had to wash the frame down and roll in fresh matrix material then stretch and smooth it down before locking them together again. Diane used a sprayer to coat it with new algae in a uniform layer. The completed assembly was then ready to load into the scrubber. While the process wasn’t difficult, it was time-consuming with forty-eight units that needed to be replaced. We had to prevent cross-contamination, so we stripped and washed everything down before we started re-assembling and hanging the fresh frames. It was tedious, wet, and slimy work for the entire duration. When we were done, I was soaked, filthy, and exhausted. What’s more, I needed to get back to the galley to help Cookie.

Diane and Brill both thanked me repeatedly for helping out, but I had to admit it was really kinda fun. Diane is what my mom would have called good people and had a wicked sense of humor that made even a boring exercise like changing out algae matrices enjoyable. Besides, she looked good in a mucky, wet shipsuit. Who could argue with that?

I was a little late but Cookie waved it off. “Brill called to explain you might be delayed, young Ishmael.” He smiled in his understanding way. “If you can spend your free time helping out in another department, then I can forgive your being four ticks late to fix dinner. One thing, though-”

I finished for him, “Let me guess…we’re out of coffee?”

He smiled beatifically. “Just so, young Ishmael, just so.”

Dinner consisted of a mushroom, ham, and spinach quiche with fresh crusty rolls and green beans. Cookie made one of his amazing granapple pies for dessert, which made a nice treat for the watch standers. About half past dinner, Pip came in, still in his civvies, looking tired but happy. He grabbed a wedge of quiche and some green beans and sat with us at a mess table to compare notes.

“Good?” I slid a cup of fresh coffee onto the table beside his tray.

He nodded. “But you were right about a long day standing there.”

“How much did you sell?”

He strung me along a tick, pretending to be too hungry to answer but finally did, “Everything.”

I looked at Cookie and back at Pip. “When you say everything, you mean what exactly?”

“Everything that we planned to sell and then some more. I left ten belts for St. Cloud here in my locker, but I probably could have sold those, too. The prices started going up as the pile dwindled. I don’t even know what the final total is. I haven’t had a chance to look.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head. “The banner looked really good hanging up and the tablecloth was exactly the right size and shape. The color showed off the belts perfectly. That Lois is really clever.” He pulled out his tablet and opened the accounting function. “Okay, we took in three thousand five hundred and forty creds, less the three fifty it cost for the seventy belts. We made about three thousand one hundred and ninety creds today.”

There was silence for at least a full tick before Cookie spoke, “Young Ishmael, you might want to close your mouth now.”

I did so but immediately opened to ask the next question. “How did the others do?”

“Well, Rhon and Biddy did very well. Rhon had some very nice fabrics and a huge collection of entertainment cubes. Biddy had small wooden and stone carvings, mostly animals, that were very popular and expensive. They both sold out. I don’t know how much they made. It seemed rude to ask, but they were both giggling like schoolgirls afterward. Sean Grishan had lace doilies and they evaporated off the table. He sold out by noon.”

“Lace doilies? You mean like the little round things?”

Pip nodded. “He makes them, and by the looks, he’s darn good at it, too.”

“He makes them? Here? On the ship?”

Pip nodded. “Yeah. He knits, too. Claims sailors on the clipper ships used to do it to pass the time and he’s been teaching himself for the last couple of stanyers. They sold well, so, to each his own, I guess.”

“Excellent. What’d the belt buckle guy say?”

“He’ll give us a good price, probably between ten and fifteen creds, depending on quantity, but of course we have to take them off-station. I explained we’re leaving for St. Cloud in a couple days so that wasn’t an issue. That really was his biggest concern.”

“What’s the mass look like?” I pulled up my quota on my tablet. “I have about eight kilos.”

Pip nodded. “I’ve got a little more, but about the same. The question is how many buckles do we buy?”

“We can’t afford too many-” I started to say but then I noticed Pip’s grin.

“Three thousand creds will buy a lot of buckles. How many do you think you can put in eight kilos of mass?”

“You gentlemen should think about this carefully, I think,” Cookie interrupted us. “Pip, you should either get off the ship, or change your clothing. Young Ishmael needs to clean up the galley and mess deck. Then you’ll both be free for the entire evening to discuss this all you like.”

He was right so we split up. I floated through the next stan or so of work.

Margary Station

2352-January-12

We picked up the conversation later in the sauna. “We’re missing something.”

“What’s that?” Pip basked sleepily on one of the benches.

“The Mercantile Cooperative.”

“Miss it? I was staring at it all day.”

“I know, but I think I’m starting to see what the captain was talking about. What’s going to happen to the booth for the next couple of days?”

“Nothing as far as I know. We don’t have anything left to sell.”

“Yeah, so we’re out twenty creds rent for the time we paid for but won’t use. It’s a shame. There could be others on the ship who could benefit, but because they don’t know about it, they’re out of luck.”

“With the margins we got today, that twenty creds is a rounding error. But I take your meaning about the rest of the crew. There’s another thing too.”

“What’s that?”

“Time in port is limited and if you and I have to spend all day selling, we won’t be able to buy anything.”

That thought had been banging up against the inside of my skull already as well.

He sat up and looked at me. “Okay, some lessons learned. First, this was a last tick idea. Whatever we did here was really just testing the water.”

I nodded in agreement. “Who’d have thought, huh?”

Pip grinned. “Obviously, the captain, because if I remember correctly, she warned us of most of this.”

“True.”

“So, how does a mercantile cooperative work, anyway? We’re thinking like traders but we need to act like businessmen. So what do we do?”

“I don’t know, but there is someone who does.”

Pip looked at me and we both said, “The captain.”

“Okay, before we bother her…” I held up my hand and counted off with my fingers, “…we need to figure out what it’s supposed to be, how it might work in our situation, and who we can get to help us.”

Pip bobbed his head once. “The first should be easy. The second would be better discussed after we have an answer to the third.”

“Makes sense, and I’m ready to get out of here.”

We showered up and went out to find who else might be aboard.