Shopping with Brill was an experience of a different nature. Where Bev attracted attention for her tough appearance, Brill got noticed for her height. In a universe of people who seldom topped two meters, Brill’s two and a quarter left her towering over almost everybody. She walked with a slight stoop and had to be careful around the ship not to bang her head into hatch combings. She was perfectly proportioned, long legs and neck, a narrow waist, and a somewhat muscular physique. Until you stood next to her, you did not realize how tall she really was. She had a broad face that most would not call beautiful but was far from plain. Her wide set brown eyes, high cheekbones, and cute nose were appealing in their own way. She usually wore a ready smile and had a razor sharp wit. She was what my mother would have called a sweetie.
Unfortunately, I don’t think the other people on the orbital saw her quite the same way. If Bev got stares of fear and awe, Brill got incredulity and amusement. As we headed into the flea market, those around us would go quiet and stare, only to buzz in our wake like flies. I kept catching bits of conversations with words like Amazon and freak in them. The general derisive tone made me angry.
Just before we entered the flea market’s main sales hall, Brill leaned down to me and murmured, “Thank you, Ishmael, but getting angry will only make your day worse and won’t change their minds.” She smiled beatifically and I noticed how the emerald in her blouse set off her brown eyes.
“But it’s so unfair,” I protested quietly. “You amazing and they’re—”
“Hush! I’ve been tall since I was ten stanyers old. I’ve made my peace with it. Can’t you?” She squeezed my hand and I felt my anger melt away.
“You’re gonna be a bitch to work for, aren’t ya,” I said at last.
She laughed and nodded. “But you don’t work for me yet, so let’s just enjoy ourselves. I need you to find me some decent trade goods for Dunsany.”
After a while, the stares and the giggling did not seem to matter. Brill and I knew what was what and the rest was just noise.
Our first stop was at the co-op’s booth. Spec three environmental Francis Gartner was booth manager, and while not as tall as Brill, he was still taller than average, and I spotted him over the crowds in the aisles before we actually reached the booth. His string bean build made him appear taller from a distance but until you saw him standing next to Brill, you could not appreciate how skinny he was. The booth looked good. The McKendrick Mercantile Cooperative banner was clipped to the back drape and matching navy-blue cloths covered the two tables. Our grav pallet acted as a raised dais in the back of the booth. From it, Francis could see what happened around him and left most of the floor free for traffic. He even had a big round button pinned to his blue shirt that said, “Booth Boss.” As we approached, Sandy Belterson finished closing a sale on some small item I could not quite make out, and she sent the customer back to Francis to pay for it. Compared to our first rough outing back on Margary, we looked like real pros.
Francis smiled broadly when Brill and I walked up. “Hey! Am I glad to see you. What in the world is going on at the ship?”
Brill gave as innocent an expression as I had ever seen, and turned to me. “Is there something going on at the ship?”
“I don’t know. Is there?” I asked in return but we were not fooling anyone.
For his part, Frances just kept glancing back and forth between us as if he was trying to decide which one to hit first. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he finally said playfully. “Gregor was packing up as I was getting ready to leave to come up here. What’s going on?”
Brill relented. “Gregor’s gone. The Moore needed him aboard at noon and the captain signed the transfer.”
Francis grinned like he had won the lottery. “Outstanding!” he said with just a bit too much enthusiasm. He tried to backpedal a bit. “I mean, that’s good for him. I know he wanted to be on a tanker.”
“More like he wanted a bunk-bunny, you mean,” Brill muttered.
Francis flashed his eyebrows up and down but did not say anything.
I made a mental note to find out what a bunk-bunny was, although I had my suspicions.
“What else have you heard?” Brill asked him.
He smiled mischievously at me before answering Brill, “Well, I heard a rumor that we’re getting some greenie engineman as a replacement.”
“It’s true. We had to take what we could find on short notice,” she said with a wink in my direction. “He has some potential, don’t ya think?”
Francis held out a hand and I shook it. He drew me into a hug. “Outstanding!” he said again, pounding me on the back.
“Yeah,” Brill said. “You shoulda heard Diane going on about the greenie we were gonna get saddled with before she knew it was him. I about peed myself laughing.”
Francis seemed concerned. “Is she upset?”
“No, I set her up as a joke,” I told him. “She came into the mess deck all upset about Gregor’s leaving and I played up about some inexperienced goof getting the job.”
“And she bought it?”
“Oh, yeah. She took me aside afterward to make sure I knew she was happy that I’d be joining the section. She seemed very sincere.”
Brill giggled. “Yeah, she only calls people she really likes ‘sludge monkey’ so you’re on her short list of good people.”
Francis put on a long face. “Damn, it took her a year to call me sludge monkey!” He burst out laughing.
Rebecca Saltzman called Brill aside just then and I took the opportunity to ask Francis quietly, “You sure this is okay with you? I know Gregor had—”
“Are you kidding?” he interrupted. “Hey, anybody who’d give up his break time to scrape sludge is good in my book. I don’t care what your rating is. Most of what we do is pretty mundane. You’ll have plenty of time to get caught up on all the theoretical stuff. You probably already know more than Gregor does. Diane and I had been talking about the possibility of getting you transferred into Foggy Bottom ever since you passed the engineman exam. Anything we can do to help you, just let us know. I mean that.”
A customer came over to ask about the brocaded vest on the table, and Francis winked at me as he went to answer her questions.
Brill wrapped up her conversation with Rebecca and we headed out of the co-op booth. They were all selling like crazy so it seemed like a good day for the McKendrick Mercantile Cooperative. We turned the corner and Brill said, “You know, I’ll help you, too, Ish. Francis and Diane aren’t the only ones who’re glad to see Gregor Avery out of the section.”
I stared at her in surprise.
“I’m tall, Ish,” she said with a mischievous expression, “Not deaf.”
“You’re gonna be a bitch to work for! I just know it,” I said in mock dismay.
“I’ve been called much, much worse.”
As we were walking along, a display of small, wooden carvings caught my eye and I steered Brill that way. A balding man with a long, sharp nose wearing what seemed to be homespun sat on a tall stool behind the table. Unlike most vendors in the flea market, he made no attempt to call attention to his wares. Brill and I walked up to the table and leaned over to get a better look. Made from a pale gray wood—gnarled and weathered—the figures were exquisitely crafted and finished with a velvety oil that brought out the natural grain of the wood. He must have had dozens of them representing a wide range of fish, animals, and birds. Each contained an inlaid bit of shell shaped like a heart on its chest.