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When I got to deck berthing, there was a bunch of excited people milling about. A lot of the crew were betting that the captain would declare liberty before 21:00 and I suspected they were right. We would be in port a long time, though, if what the captain had just said was true. I wondered how many people knew. I got cat calls when I walked in with my duffel bag and a lot of good-natured jibing about not being able to get rid of me, but I got a sense they were glad to see me—even if it was for just a few days.

I looked around and had my choice of four lowers and one upper. Uppers were popular in Deck for some reason. The upper was above Rhon Scham and across from Fong Xi Pa, one of the astrogators. There was a lower across from Sean Grishan, but I knew the co-ed crochet team used that as a kind of informal work space. There was a lower under Tabitha and Beverly was on the other side of the partition. That might work. There was a lower under Pip and across from Beverly. I didn’t trust myself there. I had a bad case of Bev and I wasn’t sure I could handle that, even for a few days in port. The other was on the end and against the bulkhead and I claimed that. Arthur James, a spacer apprentice had the upper above me. Sally Green, a cargo loader, had the lower across the way, and David ben Dour, an Ordinary Spacer, claimed the bunk above her. I knew them all, of course, from my mess deck days. They were hanging out in their bunks, waiting for liberty, and welcomed me when I moved in. I cursed myself for being a coward and not taking the lower next to Beverly all the while.

I tried to remind myself that it would only be a few days, but then I remembered that the cast of the Little Theatre of the McKendrick had put on an excellent one-act play not that long ago and began to hope that Lois could work another miracle.

Sean Grishan woke me at 05:15 with a friendly smile. “You’re still here?” he whispered.

“For the moment,” I replied groggily.

“I’m glad,” he said, and left to wake the next person on his list.

I crawled out of the bunk, stubbing my knee on the deck. After almost a stanyer in an upper, getting used to the lower was going to take some time. Shower, shipsuit, coffee, pastry—the only difference on this watch was I headed to the main lock instead of down to the environmental section.

Fong was on duty when I got there and it was good to see him. He was one of those people on the other side of the watch stander merry-go-round so I only knew him from the mess line. What always astonished me was his red hair, freckles, and green eyes were in such contrast to his name. You would have expected him to be named Patrick O’Reilly not Fong Xi Pa. Parents can be funny like that.

He smiled when I came to relieve him. “Hey!” he said, “I heard you were joining second section.”

“Yup, musical chairs, nobody wants to keep me. Can you give me the quick tour? What do I need to know that’s not in the standing orders?”

“It’s easy,” he said. “These are the camera controls so you can see what’s outside before opening the lock. These controls over here operate the lock itself. The inner door override gets set automatically when we dock, but you can manually enable it if you need to.” He pointed out the very simple controls, all neatly labeled. “All the crew, of course, have their own access, but visitors show up occasionally. Officers from other ships usually.”

“So, I’m basically the doorman?” I asked.

“Yup, that’s it. If there’s a more boring post on the ship, I don’t know what it is.”

“Don’t say that,” I warned him. “Next week you’ll be on it and wish you were back here.”

He chuckled at that. “More truth than fiction there. The only other thing you need to know about brow watch is, if you need to leave for any reason, call the messenger to relieve you. If all you want is coffee or something from the mess deck, the messenger is supposed to get it for you. About the only thing you really need to do yourself is pee. Everything else, ask the messenger.”

“What about mass adjustments?”

“You’ve been through the drill enough on that side of the desk. Stand ’em on the scale, grab their id, book ’em out or book ’em in. The system handles the reconciliations. Only odd stuff is when you have to book mass to the ship or somebody not there on the scale.” He pointed to an icon on the console. “That’s the mass adjustment. Use your judgment. Only hard rule is everything gets booked to somebody. Anybody that goes over their allotment is not your problem. The system will flag them and command will deal with it.”

That was all familiar from my Able Spacer exam, but it was good to have it confirmed.

“Ms. Avril is Officer of the Day and Art James is your messenger. Anything you don’t know just ask one of them. Art probably won’t know, but Ms. Avril is nice. She knows you’re stepping in to help out and if it weren’t for you, she’d be out here. Expect her to come down in half a stan or so to see how you’re doing.”

“Thanks, Fong. It sounds too easy, but I’m not going to complain.”

“Boredom is never easy and you’re here for the next twelve hours, so I hope you’ve got a lot to do on your tablet and you find that chair comfy.”

We both laughed at that, but I eyed the chair before he was out of sight. It didn’t look that comfy. I sighed. “Only a few days, anyway,” I told myself.

One thing I had not anticipated was the traffic in and out. Fong talked about it being boring, but I really enjoyed watching the comings and goings. It wasn’t long before I saw the second mate, Jillian Avril, coming down the passage toward me.

I stood as she approached. “Good morning, sar.”

“Hello, Mr. Wang. Welcome to second section. I understand you’ll only be here while we’re in port?”

“That’s what I’ve been told, sar. Happy to help out while Sandy’s recuperating.”

“What will you do after that, Mr. Wang?”

“I don’t know, sar. Maybe set up permanent residency in the flea market.”

She recognized a joke and I was sorry I had not had a chance to get to know her better. Speaking of people on the other side of the merry-go-round, she was on the other side of the planet from where I had spent my time aboard. “Well, message the ship’s office if you have any questions or if anything seems out of the ordinary. You can also bip me on my tablet. Your messenger is Art James and you can call him by bipping him too. I know you’ve never stood this watch before, but if you can work environmental, I’m pretty sure you can handle the lock. I’d rather you bother me over nothing—”

I broke in with, “Than not bother you over something.” We laughed. “Standard watch stander rule everywhere, isn’t it, sar?”

“True, Mr. Wang, very true. I was on the bridge the other day. You did an amazing job getting that network back up.”

“Thank you, sar. I just did what needed doing.”

“Well, you did it when it needed to be done, so thanks.” She gave me a little wave and headed back down the corridor. She looked almost as good going away as Alvarez. I wondered idly if it was a trait of second mates.

I shook that idea out of my head as soon as it hit and settled back down to the watch.

Around 09:00 the hatch call alarm sounded and I looked on the camera to see who was ringing our bell. An average looking blond guy wearing the green and gold of Federated Freight had a duffel over his shoulder and was smiling into the pickup like he expected me to be looking. I half expected him to wave. Visitor protocol required me to go out to him so I slipped open the small lock and exited.

He smiled as I walked out and he stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Spec Three Environmental Charles Colby. I think I’m expected.”

“Hello,” I said and shook his hand. “I’m Ishmael Wang. Welcome to the
Lois McKendrick
. Hang on just a sec while I check with the OD?”

“You betcha.” He handed me his data chip and I slotted it into my tablet. It contained instructions to report to the
Lois
on Federated Freight letterhead, so I bipped it to Ms. Avril’s tablet with an inquiry on instructions.

It came back instantly: Identity confirmed, messenger on his way.

I nodded at the lock. “Come on aboard.”

We went back inside and it was just a few ticks before Art showed up and took him in tow. “Good luck,” I told him. Art looked at me kinda funny but it wasn’t Charles Colby’s fault the company assigned him to the
Lois
. I hoped people were not going to take my problems out on him.

I settled down again and pulled up the station net ship’s status report to see who was in port. I found no names I recognized nor any open berths I was qualified for. I shrugged and pulled up the Messman instructional materials. If I was going to have to sit there, I might as well work on finishing out my collection. I was kind of afraid I might have to make use of them. The few people in and out of the lock didn’t really bother my studies. Everybody knew the drill and everything moved along smoothly.

Art came back just before lunch. “Hey, Ish, you want to eat first or second?”

“What’s that mean?”

“When Cookie starts serving, do you want first dibs? Or do you want me to eat quick and then come relieve you?”

I shrugged. “Which is better?”

“You’ve been sitting there for the last six stans, man. Let me eat quick and I’ll come out and sit here for a while. Take your time. You can stop by berthing and wash your face or something if you want. It’s about the only break you’ll get.”

“Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Most people just can’t stand this job and they drive the messengers crazy. You’ve been great! This has been the easiest port-side watch I’ve pulled in a stanyer. Lemme eat first and you can take your time coming back. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, you’re on. Thanks, I could use a change of scenery.”

“See ya in a bit,” he said before pattering back down the passage.

He was back in what seemed like just a few heartbeats. Art was still chewing when we did a
temporary relief
entry in the log according to SOP, and I headed for the mess deck. It did feel good to get up and stretch. I relished not being in the lock. It gave me a whole new perspective on the watch standers that I’d been walking past all those weeks.

While I was sitting there, Brill brought Colby in for lunch. She smiled when she saw me and gave a little shrug to my raised eyebrow.

After they loaded a couple of trays, I nodded at the empty chairs at my table as invitation. We were the only ones on the mess deck and it was the natural course of action. Brill looked a bit uncomfortable, which I thought was a little odd. If anybody should be uncomfortable, it should be me.

Colby still wore his affable smile and sat down with an odd flourish—he plunked his food down, leaned on the table, and swung a leg over the back of the chair like he was mounting a horse or something. I thought if he did that with the full crew at mess, he might kick somebody in the head.

Brill said, “CC, I believe you’ve met Ishmael Wang?”

He smiled in my direction with a nod. “Oh, yeah. He brought me aboard.”

Brill turned to me and asked, “How’s life on second section?”

“Well, it’s a little soon to say. It hasn’t been a whole day yet, but I think twelve hour watches on the lock are going to be challenging.”

She nodded sympathetically at that. “Well, perhaps it’ll be more entertaining watching people straggle back in the early hours.”

I turned to Colby and asked, “So, how are you adjusting, Charles?”

“Please, call me CC,” he said. “It’s been interesting so far. Nothing I haven’t seen before, of course. It doesn’t look too much different than the
Nora
.”

“The
Nora
?” I asked. I carried the conversation and wondered what Brill was thinking. She didn’t look happy, but neither did she look as upset as her silence indicated.

“Yeah, the
Nora Owen
. She’s a sister ship to the
Lois
. They were built together, actually in adjoining docks.”

“That must make it easy to find your way around,” I said.

“Mostly, but there are enough differences in deck plans that I have to be a little bit careful. That part is disconcerting. When you come around a corner expecting to find the water intake valve and it’s a scrubber manifold, your brain does a little hiccup,” he added.

“CC will probably be standing watch solo next shift. He knows the drill as well as you do.”

I don’t think she meant to say that because she gave a little wince.

“As well as you do?” he asked curiously. “You’re familiar with environmental?”

“Yeah, I held your slot since Gregor left the ship in St. Cloud.”

“And you’re on gangway watch now?” he asked. “I thought that was a deck job.”

“It is. The normal watch stander broke her arm. I’m filling in while the ship is here in port and Sandy heals up.”

“Then what?” he pressed. I wondered if he understood what he was asking.

“Then I get put ashore and have to find a new berth,” I told him calmly.

I could see the recognition on his face then. “You mean I’m bumping you?”

Brill answered, “Yes, CC, you’re bumping him. We got word when we picked up the beacon on our first approach, just before we ran through the CME residue.”