I had the morning watch the day we were scheduled to dock at Dunsany Roads so I asked Brill, “Hey, boss? How do we handle watch standing while we’re docked?”
“Well, we pretty much do things the same way as underway, except the watches are a lot longer and a lot looser. Basically, twelves and twenty-fours. With the three of you, that’s twelve on and twenty-four off. We change at 06:00 and 18:00 same as the rest of the ship. By convention, the senior watch stander picks which section he wants and so on down the line. You’re junior so you get what’s left. Different divisions have different requirements but that’s what we do.”
“Wow.” I looked around the section area trying to image being in here for twelve stans at a stretch.
As if reading my mind, Brill said, “You don’t have to stay in the section all that time. The ASIC’s don’t run when we’re docked and running on station power, so you won’t have to deal with that every few ticks. Anytime you want to leave, just slave your tablet and the console will relay any problems to you. You still need to do the VSI once per watch, but that’s still less than normal. We just need to time the last one so it occurs within six hours of pullout.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“It’s quiet everywhere on the ship when we’re docked so hanging out here isn’t that big a deal. Just don’t fall asleep. You can do pretty much anything you can do with your tablet in your hand. That rules out sauna and shower, but if you want to go up to the mess deck, or even hang out in berthing, you can do that if you like.”
“So, I can study?”
“Yup. How’s that going?”
“I took a practice test the other day and got an eighty-five, so it’s climbing. I need to go over the thermal conduction and capacity sections again. I keep reversing hot and cold in my head.”
“Remember that we’re not talking about temperature there but energy levels. Takes more going up than coming down. The temperature is an artifact—an indirect measurement—of the energy level in the fluid. All the transfer on conduction and capacity are based directly on energy, not the abstraction that temperature provides.”
“Oh, that’s what that meant,” I said as one rather confusing passage in the material came back to me. “Thanks.”
“So, enough shop talk. What are you gonna do ashore?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “What do watch standers do ashore?”
“Hmm. We’ll have to find something a little more exciting than dinner for this trip to celebrate your new position, won’t we?”
Suddenly, I remembered Bresheu. “Hey, clothes.”
“What?”
“Remember Bresheu gave me a data chip with his initial on it? I’m supposed to find his friend here. What was that name? Some French guy.” I was scrambling through my head trying to replay the conversation with Bresheu. “I’m supposed to have thought about who I am so I can pick out clothes.” The name that Bresheu had given me hung tantalizingly out of reach in the back of my head.
“You can’t go,” Brill said.
“What?”
“Well by yourself that is. We’ll take you.”
“Who’ll take me? What are you talking about?”
“Ishmael Horatio Wang, if you’re gonna go pick out clothes, at a real shop, and spend real credits then you cannot be allowed to go alone.”
“Oh, no? Why not? Is there some Confederation thingy?”
“Um, yeah, that’s it. It’s a Confederation rule. All men have to take at least one woman with them when they shop for clothes.”
“That’s kinda hard on single guys, isn’t it?”
She considered and shook her head. “Not the good ones. The trick for them is figuring out which woman to take.”
“Henri!” I exclaimed.
“Henri?”
“That’s the guy’s name…the one I’m suppose to see. Henri Roo-something.”
“Henri Roubaille?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Henri Roubaille.”
“He gave you an introduction to Henri Roubaille?” she sounded amazed, incredulous.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, we are so going shopping,” she crowed.
“Who we?” I asked beginning to get suspicious.
“Hmm, good question. Who wouldn’t want to go to Chez Henri? Diane will kill me if we don’t take her. Me, of course, you’re not going without me. Oh, and Beverly, if we can swing the watches. Rhon Scham would be good, too, and I owe Jillian a favor for Arghon.”
“Wait! Jillian?” I asked. “The only Jillian I know is the second mate!”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“You want me to take the second mate with me clothes shopping?”
“This isn’t the mall, stooge! We’re talking about Chez Henri!” she exclaimed with a grin.
“Okay, what is Chez Henri? Why is this such a big deal? It’s just a tailor shop.”
“Oh, no. Not a tailor shop. This is way beyond a tailor shop.”
“If it’s not a tailor shop, what is it?”
She laughed. “You really don’t know?”
“How would I know? My mother bought my last set of civvies. What I know about clothes is that cotton wrinkles easily.”
“Oh, we are gonna have so much fun with you,” she said and I confess, that might have been the first time she really scared me.