“Well,” I said. “Maybe nobody will show up.”
The three of them laughed. Loudly. It wasn’t an encouraging sound.
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SEVEN
D
IURNIA
S
YSTEM
2358-
J
ULY-20
After lunch, I went back to my stateroom for a few minutes. I wasn’t sure what I was going to face so hiding seemed like a reasonable response. I told myself it was so I could look up the dates for the next testing, but it was really to make myself scarce. It was one thing to talk with Ms. Jaxton and Ms. D’Heng about their rating exams, and another to stand up in front of a mess deck full of people.
As it turns out, I needn’t to have worried.
At 14:00, fortified with the date of the next testing period displayed prominently on my tablet—and after about twenty ticks of ponderation about what they might want to know—I headed down to the mess deck to brave the crowd.
All four of them.
Well, five actually, but I didn’t think Apones was there to study. He sat sprawled on a chair in a corner. His scowling face tracked me across the room to the coffee pot and back to the table where Juliett, Charlotte, Ulla, and a wiper named Raymond sat.
“Can I sit here?” I asked, indicating an empty seat at the table.
“Of course, sar,” Ulla said. “We were waiting for you.”
I smiled and settled with my coffee. “How can I help?” I asked, and that was really all it took.
For the next stan and a half, they peppered me with questions. Not one of the questions had to do with the next testing date.
We talked about the sequencing of ratings.
It was Raymond who asked, “Why don’t I have to take them all in order, sar?”
“That surprised me, when I heard it, too,” I said. “But the tests are set up so that if you haven’t mastered the previous material, you can’t really pass the higher test. It becomes an exercise in how far you can reach.”
“How so, sar?”
“If you sat for spec one power right now, what would the likely outcome be?”
“I probably wouldn’t get it, sar,” he said with a self-conscious grin.
“Okay, why not?”
He shrugged. “Well, because I don’t know anything about power, sar.”
“So, you’re studying for, what? Engineman?”
“Yes, sar, I just started.”
“Just started what? Studying for Engineman or being aboard the ship?”
“Oh, studying, sar, I’m on my second contract. I did my first two stanyers on a UFH tanker. When my contract was up, I decided not to renew and got off in Diurnia. I discovered I had missed being underway, so I signed back on with DST, but didn’t have much in the way of ratings—so here I am. Thought it was about time to move up a bit, sar, just in case I have to find another job. I’ll be ready.”
“So, you probably know your way around the engine room pretty well already,” I pointed out. “Why don’t you try for Machinist and skip Engineman?”
“Oh, I couldn’t, sar!”
“Why not? All you have to do is try for it. Worst case you miss. Best case, you skip a rank.”
He looked dubious, but Charlotte D’Heng asked, “Could I do that, sar?”
“What? Test for machinist?” I asked. “Do you know anything about engineering?”
I did like the way she giggled—very bubbly. “No, sar, able spacer? Can I skip ordinary and go for the able spacer test?”
“Of course. If you take the test and pass, you’re automatically granted the subordinate rates.”
“But the tests only come around every ninety days, sar,” Juliett pointed out. “If you miss it, you have to wait another ninety days to try again for the lower rank. Wouldn’t it make more sense to take them in order to make sure you have the building blocks firmly in place?”
“That’s why I say it’s an exercise in how far you can reach. Yes, it’s a risk and a lot of people just build the ratings in order.”
The four of them looked at each other and then back at me. They weren’t convinced. I could see it in their faces.
“It’s not a complete shot in the dark, you know,” I said.
“How so, sar?” Juliett asked.
“The study materials have practice tests included. If you get in the top five percent, you can probably pass the exam. If you don’t score more than half, you’re probably over your head. If you’re somewhere in between, then there’s a pretty good chance you can pass if you study.”
Raymond looked thoughtful for about five heartbeats and then said, “So I can use the practice tests to see where I should be studying, sar?”
“Precisely, Mr. Raymond. Humor me, whatever you’re thinking of studying, go to the next higher rating and try that practice test. See what you find out.”
“But I haven’t studied that material yet, sar!” Ulla said in dismay.
“Yes, Ms. Nart. That’s the idea. If you can get half the answers on the practice test before you even study, the probabilities are good that you could learn the other half with some judicious application of study time.”
Juliett, ever the practical one, asked, “If this is so easy, why don’t more people do it, sar?”
“I don’t know, Ms. Jaxton,” I admitted. “It seems the most sensible way to approach it to me, but then I’m not a spacer. My mom was an ancient lit professor.”
At that, they all looked around the table at each other as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did.
“Somebody said you were rated before you went to the academy, sar,” Raymond said. “Is that true?”
“Yes, Mr. Raymond, I was rated. I took my share of the exams.”
“How many did you take, sar?” Charlotte asked.
I had to count on my fingers, and did so out loud. “Four half share, two full share, plus Spec two environmental and spec one systems. Eight, I think. There was a test for spec two systems, but it wasn’t a written one. Yes, I think that’s all. After four years at the academy it’s hard to remember.”
When I looked up, there were four pairs of eyes bugging out at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re rated in all four divisions, sar?” Mr. Raymond finally managed to ask.
“Well, I was, yes, but now I’m third mate.”
Juliett slapped her hand on the table then and said, “Well!” She looked around at her cohorts and added, “I don’t know about you, but I think I’m gonna take a practice exam or two.”
They all fumbled for tablets and started punching up content.
“Any advice on the specialist rates, sar?” Juliett asked after working for a tick or two.
“Spec three is really easy. It’s only a little more difficult than the divisional full share but it has the bare minimum additional information for that specialty. If you know anything about the specialty field, look at spec two,” I told her. “Drop back to spec three if you score below a fifty. Spec one is not impossible but they tend to cover nuts and bolts in spec two and teach theory in spec one.”
“Thank you, sar. Very helpful,” she said without looking up.
I picked up my cup and walked over to the urn for a refill. It hadn’t really been that long, but I’d gone through a lot. I watched Apones watching me out of the corner of my eye. He was not a happy spacer. I crossed to him with my full cup and nodded a greeting without attempting to sit.
“Do you have any questions about testing, Mr. Apones? You looking to pick up another pay grade?”
He snorted. “Yeah. I’m going for king of the world. I’ll be sure to check with ya if I decide to take the test for it.”
“Excellent, Mr. Apones. I’m sure we’ll all be watching for that day.”
He smirked, as if he’d somehow been funny or something, and I returned to the group.
It took them a while to get through the practice tests. I knew from experience they could take up to a full stan but I waited.
Ulla Nart finished first with a bright grin. She turned her tablet around to show the 74% score. I checked and she really had done the able spacer test.
I gave her thumbs up and a smile.
Eventually everybody finished. Charlotte D’Heng got the lowest score with a 60% against the able spacer exam.
“Okay, everybody,” I said when the initial jubilation had run its course. “You got a boost, but now you need to buckle down. If you go through the lessons, do the exercises as you go, and pay attention to what you’re doing, you’ll be fine. There’s still a few weeks left to study and not a lot else going on here, so you should have plenty of time to learn enough to jump a rank.”
They all looked so jubilant, I felt like I needed to temper their expectations.
“Remember that if you pass you only earn the rating, which only means you can apply for a better position. The ship’s not obligated to hire you for one, nor pay you at the higher rating for your current post,” I said as sternly as I could, looking around the table.
Juliett said, “Are you kidding, sar? With the turnover we have, jobs get refilled at almost every port.”
“Still,” I said, “don’t get too excited. It will qualify you for more positions, but you’re still going to have to convince the people who hire spacers that you’re a good shipmate.”
The smiles around the table still blinded me, but I was cautiously optimistic that the message had gotten through.
“Okay, I’ve got the watch tomorrow afternoon, but why don’t we plan to meet again the day after?” I said. “If you have any questions, need any advice, or would like some feedback other than what the tablets give you, see me then, okay?”
Nods bobbed around the table and I headed back to my stateroom to get changed. It was almost 15:30 and that gave me enough time for a good workout before dinner. As I left the mess deck, I noticed that Apones had disappeared as well. Perhaps he got bored, but I thought it more likely that he’d gone to report to David Burnside.
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-EIGHT
D
IURNIA
S
YSTEM
2358-
A
UGUST-10
Once you get into the routine of being underway, the ticktock of the watch cycle, wake—work—sleep—repeat, makes it hard to have awareness. Usually this shift to grayness, the brain blur, is disconcerting. I had always felt it was a kind of mixed blessing. On the one hand, if you were really aware of every day as it crawled past—every one identical—nothing really changing except the meal on your plate: same people, same clothes, same activities, day after day after day—you’d probably just step out an airlock from the boredom. On the other hand, there was a kind of mental buffering that protected you from realizing just how many days had passed, and how many were left. The internal buffer just refreshes without a lot of effort or thought.
Wake—work—sleep—repeat.
As a crewman, I’d thought of this as the merry-go-round of watch standing. Your world shrinks to the people who are in your watch section—awake when you are, eating when you do, going to the gym when you are. The rest of the crew is on the other side of the carousel and, while you can catch glimpses of them between the horses, you really don’t get much chance to do more than wave. People who were day workers, like the mess deck crew, were like the people watching the merry-go-round spin. You’d see everyone, but never really stop to talk as they swung by, once per revolution.
On the
Tinker
, as an officer isolated in the wardroom and stateroom, my world shrank even more. Say what you will about the lack of privacy in the berthing areas, at least there were people around. Mel and Fredi were constants at meal times, when I could get to the wardroom to eat. Arletta and I became really good friends. Something about sharing a head, I think. It’s hard to maintain romantic illusions when digestion and its by-products get involved. It was just as well. I certainly didn’t want to open that door with all the rest of the bunk jumping that appeared to be going on in the ship. Without the mental blur, I might have found it depressing.
Juliett and Charlotte were the only people I saw regularly for any amount of time. I have to give them a lot of credit for keeping me amused. Juliett had a dry quick-wittedness about her that could find something bitingly humorous in the darkest situation. Charlotte was one of those unnaturally upbeat people who seemed to smile all the time and who could find the joy in the most mundane of activities. They helped make the blur tolerable. I’d like to think I held up my end as well.