“No, Captain!” Even as I spoke, I knew my response was too vigorous. “I like it here. I have friends here.” I shut my mouth and clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t blurt out anything more ridiculous like, “Please don’t make me leave!”
Pip and I traded glances again. I had no clue where this conversation was heading and it looked liked my friend was equally confounded. The captain studied us for a few heartbeats—I am sure it was a smaller number for her than for us—but finally she glanced around the table at the officers and gave a little nod toward Mr. Maxwell.
Mr. Maxwell fixed his gaze in Pip’s direction. The First Mate was a calm, deliberate man and did everything for a reason. He had a reputation for being so cold and calculating that a common joke was that robots considered it an insult to their warmth and personality when he was compared to them. Personally, I liked him and trusted him as much as any person I had ever known.
“Mr. Carstairs, you recently passed the cargo man exam and are qualified to take a full share birth in that division.” He glanced at his tablet then continued, “The Andrew W. Mellon is docked here at St. Cloud and has posted a cargo man berth for which we are prepared to give you the highest recommendation. Would you like to pursue that position?”
Pip blinked. “Sar?”
I could hear the confusion in his voice. Frankly, I was just as perplexed as he was, but the theatre of the absurd production playing out in the captain’s cabin was starting to get really interesting.
“Mr. Carstairs, the Mellon has a cargo opening,” the captain said. “If you want it, we’ll help you get it.”
“Have I done something wrong, sar?” he asked.
Myself, I was starting to have trouble breathing. I kept waiting for them to get around to the fight at the flea market, but all they were interested in talking about was leaving the Lois. I knew there would be a price to be paid, but I had no idea we were in that much trouble.
Mr. Maxwell and the captain exchanged a look. I had no idea what it might have meant, but I would recognize it again if I ever saw it. The next words out of Mr. Maxwell’s mouth really confused me. “No, Mr. Carstairs. In fact, you’ve done very well by the Lois and we want to do what we can to help you. This is a legitimate opportunity—one of several—and I wanted you to know about it before we offered you an alternative.”
“Sar, I’m with Mr. Wang. I like it here. I want to work with Cookie on the stores trading and see just how far we can take it.”
“So, you’d rather work here as a quarter share steward than transfer to the Mellon and work full share cargo? Is that what you’re saying?” The captain’s voice carried no inflection at all.
“Well, it sounds kinda silly when you put it like that, Captain, but yes, I guess that’s what I mean. I like what I do here.”
Mr. Cotton spoke up then, “You have amazing skills, ya, Mr. Carstairs. But I must say, we have no openings in cargo for a cargo man at the moment, ya.”
“Yes, sar. I’m aware of that. You have a good crew and I know they all like it here as much as I do. But I wouldn’t be able to do the kinds of trading on the Mellon that I’ve been doing here with Cookie. Besides, the co-op is just getting started, and I’m making some good money with that. It’s okay, sar. I don’t need a cargo slot right now or really anytime soon.”
There was another weird little pause while the officers all nodded at each other. The captain made a gesture toward Mr. Kelley and he turned to me. “Mr. Wang, I’ve been getting reports from the environmental section that you’re spending time down there.”
“Yes, sar,” I answered promptly.
“You spent your breaks from galley duty to help them scrape sludge?”
“Well, just once, sar. But I’d be happy to help them again, if needed.”
“Spec one Smith reports that you aided spec three Ardele in swapping out the algae matrices for the number three scrubber. Is this true?”
“Yes, sar. She needed a hand and I was free for a couple of stans. It was kinda fun in a slimy, wet, mucky sorta way.”
“Was that before or after you got your engineman rating, Mr. Wang?”
“After, sar.”
“Ms. Smith reports that you have some odd ideas about sludge, Mr. Wang. Would you care to share one or two of them?”
“Um, well, sar. I thought perhaps we could use it as a base for compost.”
“Compost?”
“Yes, sar. At Margary me and Diane…er…I mean spec three Ardele, visited a mushroom farm. They grow a bunch of different varieties of fungus in a slurry made of hydroponic waste and chipped sludge. When I found out we were just giving our left over waste away it made me think there might be a better use for it.”
“And you thought we might grow what?”
“I dunno, sar. I was just interested in the idea. Margary uses hollowed out asteroids for their farms, and I thought we could do something similar since it didn’t seem like the mushrooms needed much tending to.”
“I see. And did you enjoy working in the environmental section?”
I considered that for a moment before answering. “Yes, sar. Yes, I did. Bri…er, Ms. Smith, Ms. Ardele, and Mr. Gartner are all great to work with.”
The weird little pause-and-nod exchange occurred again between the seated officers.
Finally, the captain said, “Okay, gentlemen, here’s the problem. Mr. Carstairs, you deserve a chance at cargo man, as you show exceptional capabilities in this area. Your stores trading for St. Cloud gave us a net profit of close to thirty-five percent over our stores budget. Not only did that cover the cost of feeding the crew for the last five weeks, but you’ve generated a very respectable surplus. Partly due to the short hop over here from Margary and partly due to your shrewd horse trading. You do us proud, Mr. Carstairs, and I am grateful. The problem is I don’t have a cargo slot to offer you, and there’s another little problem with regards to spec three Avery.”
That was it. The shoe I had been waiting to drop. Gregor Avery got into a fight while working the booth on the flea market. I was not sure what all the talk about tests, trading, and visits to the environmental section was all about but at least now we were going to find out our punishment for any culpability we had in that fiasco. In an effort to try and explain, I blurted out, “I’m sorry about that, sar. I don’t know what happened at the co-op—”
The captain interrupted me, “Oh, I don’t care about that.” She waved a hand as if to shoo away a pesky fly. “He’s always been a hot head. The more important point is that the tanker Audrey Moore has just hired him for their environmental section. So that leaves us short-handed.”
I was not positive I heard her right. I was so sure that Gregor, Pip, and I would all be paying the price for the flea-market incident that I was flabbergasted to hear she did not even care about that.
“He’s changing ships? I didn’t know that, sar. Although, he did mention wanting to get onto a tanker, once or twice.”
“Personally, I hope he enjoys it,” the captain said. “But getting back to the problems at hand and how you gentlemen can help us with them.” She gestured to Mr. Kelly.
“Mr. Wang, I am prepared to offer you an engineman slot in environmental,” he said. “Ms. Smith has been consulted and is most enthusiastic. Are you interested?”
“Well, yes, sar, but what about the galley?”
Mr. Maxwell answered, “Inquiry reveals we have several quarter share candidates available to us on St. Cloud, Mr. Wang.”
Mr. Kelley continued, “We know you don’t have the knowledge and experience that Mr. Avery did, but the section crew down there can’t say enough good things about you. They want you, if you want to go.”