On her own in her cabin, Ramona took stock of her surroundings. She knew that new employers meant a new lifestyle but she wasn't really ready for what it meant to be a Trader. The absolute equality of the sexes on her home world of Raeburn's world had actually made sex a bit dirty and tawdry. In some ways, Raeburn was a bit prudish. Yes, she bunked with a mixed crew of men and women in the Militia. No, she would never discuss sex with a senior officer. Never. Naturally, all the things that young men and women do when unsupervised happened just like do everywhere, but they were never discussed. It was like talking about taking a crap. It was just considered impolite. Yes, you knew everyone used the head; no, you didn't discuss it in such a matter of fact way. Working on a ship full of people with no morals would take some getting used to. Just one more disquieting aspect to this mission.
Leo walked into the main trading floor and into the commercial design trader's pit. There were always a few members of the trading team on duty when they were within the latency envelope of a system. The on duty traders looked up eagerly at Leo's approach. Everyone knew about the new apprentice. A ship was a very large thing, but in the end it was just another small town. Everyone knew everyone else's business and a new member of the community was an opportunity for variety not to be missed. He didn't consider himself a gossip but denying his teammates any knowledge of the new apprentice seemed unnecessarily cruel. Besides, what little he knew would be public knowledge throughout the ship shortly. Senior Journeymen were encouraged to take the new apprentices under their wings, but some amount of hazing of the 'plebs was just unavoidable. As long as it remained purely psychological abuse, it would officially be ignored.
Jamison, the senior watch stander, raised his eyebrows in an unambiguous "tell me everything" gesture. Jamison, unlike Leo, was a TERRIBLE gossip. Unless his curiosity was fulfilled, he would simply invent details to fill the empty space. Considering that his imaginary world ran much closer to "Space Slavers" than actual trader doctrine, Leo decided to share what details he had and spare Ramona any unnecessary speculation. "Before you ask, her name is Ramona. Seems to have a good set of space legs, comes from a local militia background. Some ship handling, born a dirtyfoot."
Jamison smirked, "Trust you to check out the legs first Leo. Perhaps I should offer her a personal tour of the ship after shift change. Only two more hours until we hit the latency envelope and we stand down."
Lela, the second watch stander, snorted loudly enough to be heard in the noisy room. "Leave over Jamison. If your reputation in the Apprentice Spaces isn't enough to frighten her off, your ugly face certainly will." She looked down to her console for a second before continuing. "The real question is, which pit will draft her for first round. We've got first pick, but we'll obviously pick the trader born. Any whispers Leo?" Now everyone in the pit was looking at Leo. Getting drafted into a pit was a major roll of the dice for any apprentice trader. While in theory apprentices had the right to rotate into as many pits as they wished before majoring in one, the reality is that your best chance for promotion was to pick a specialty early and excel within that specialty. 'Plebs who rotated more than a couple of times rarely made it up to master trader and usually washed out after a few years.
Leo rubbed his chin unconsciously. He had heard the industrial process pit boss grumbling about new recruits but she always grumbled. Between the unglamorous reputation of "I-Proc" and the cranky nature of their pit boss, only the least promising apprentices tended to stay there. He wasn't sure why, but he really hoped Ramona didn't end up at I-Proc. "Given her military background, I would guess either Weps or Ships but who knows. She just may wind up scrubbing decks." An old joke left over from ancient wet water navies, "swabbing the deck" was no longer a task actual humans usually did. However, it was occasionally used as a punishment duty to scare the more stubborn 'plebs back on track.
Now it was Jamison's turn to laugh. Like most traders, his genetics had been modified to ensure his external appearance was "optimal" for the society he'd been born in. Unlike most, that meant a long face and almost hawklike nose. When he laughed, he looked like a cross between a horse and a bird of prey if that was remotely possible. "Isn't she Banned?" He pronounced banned with an audible capital B like it was a disease. "I don't think that Gunny would consider playing with rocks and spears in some backward banned navy as a 'military background.'" Gunny Thomplin was the Pit Boss of the Military and Security Weapons Trading Team, universally referred to as the "Weps Pit."
Leo glared at him but Lela was much less accepting of his abrasive manner. "Don't let Gunny hear you say that. Remember what he said to you when you applied for a Weps rotation?" Jamison just looked at her, silently promising payback if she repeated the story. "I for one, will never forget: 'Son, being a warrior is not about pushing buttons or wearing a pretty uniform. It's about killing people. I could kill you with a coconut from 100 meters and you would have no idea I was there. Pick another pit that needs candy ass pretty boys.'" Her laughing fit eventually got the rest of the Pit laughing so hard that the senior Pit Boss gave them a glare from across the room. Lela gave him a friendly wave and then a rude gesture when he turned away.
Leo hid his grin with one hand and looked away. As fun as Lela's taunting was, he needed a good working relationship with Jamison and taunting him would just cause more friction between them. Leo was very close to taking his Master's board. Being a cutup and hazing the other Journeymen was considered fine for a first or second year like Lela but it was seen as unbecoming in a Master. Leo had quite a few unfortunate "incidents" from his early years as an apprentice that he had to play down. The other masters had to be convinced that he was ready to assume all responsibilities that being a Master Trader implied.
Being able to stay above the fray between the junior team members was one of these unspoken skills that he was expected to show before he could pass his boards and achieve the coveted master's rank. "Ah, she's from Raeburn's." Leo looked at Jamison, no recognition was sparked there. "As you may recall, Raeburn's is the world that successfully held off a Combine attack. Single handed. And that was ten years AFTER they were banned. I hear their Militia is top notch, even if their ship designs are not the latest. I wonder what local developments they've made in the interim?"
Lela and Jamison had a similar look to Leo now. It was the look of the data trader. If there was one thing that they all had in common, it was a passion for design. The bread and butter of the Data Trader was the ability to look at a piece of IP and decide its value in the galactic market. This implied the ability to not only read but to understand designs. The larger implications of a more efficient oxygen scrubber were probably moot to most people but were hugely important in the trading of design data across interstellar distances.
Banning a system not only punished the designated system by cutting them off from the galactic community but also withheld any new developments from that system from the data traders. Leo knew of a couple of profitable environmental systems designs with original patent holders from Raeburn's World. He wondered what follow on work was not available to the trader network because of the ban.
Leo gave himself a mental shake. Tiernen, the Commercial Design Pit boss, was not going to thank him for distracting the junior duty crew. Because the Reggie was on her outbound leg, most of the important transactions for this system had already been completed hours or days ago. The final shift before moving out system was generally reserved for the junior team members so that they could gain experience with standing a watch and having responsibility. The odds of them doing something spectacularly stupid were reduced but it gave them experience and confidence. Lastly, it got them on the trading boards and established the first entries in their "score" which was a lifetime balance sheet of every trade conducted by each trader. The first few trades of a trader's career were usually closely monitored. Once they were "on the board" with official trades on their record, they eventually graduated into "fourth shift" where they were much more loosely supervised. As unpleasant as Jamison could be personally, he had a very good lifetime score and seemed to have a talent for deals that had a predictable rate of return. In the long run, it was the steady trader that ran up the score. Taking too much risk was sure to backfire eventually. "OK, children. As you were. Only a few more hours to drive up your scores before we hit the latency window."
As he left the floor, he let his suppressed mirth surface. Jamison was such an ass, he enjoyed watching Lela skewer him. Tiernen was a genius for pairing them as watch standers. Either Jamison would snap and try to throttle her or they would both make Journeymen within six months. Walking down the hall, he let out a chuckle, garnering a few stares from random passersby. Looking forward to a good long rest, he lengthened his stride towards Journeyman spaces and his bunk. They had been in system for sixteen days.
A long time to be working watch on watch. He was ready for one of the Apprentices to pass their boards and fill the hole in their watch rotation. He made it to his cabin and was in his bunk before Ramona was in his thoughts again. Why did she make such a first impression on him? Still wondering, Leo faded out to a blissful ten hours of rack time, barely rolling over as the Reggie hit the E-Limit and passed into FTL on her way to the next system.
Ramona was much more aware of their shift into FTL. This was only her second time beyond the E-Limit and the novelty had not yet worn off for her. Also, the transition to ship's time was going to take a couple of days. A quick nap was all she had managed, her body clock insisting it was time to get up even though it was the middle of the night by ship's time. She had spent six months on the transfer station, taking odd jobs and working up enough exam credit to make her application, giving her plenty of time to adjust to local time. Then the Reggie had appeared, accepting her application and starting the next phase of her journey. Checking the comm screen in her cabin, she noted she had about eight hours before she was to report to her "orientation officer" to begin her first official ship's day. She assumed that "orientation officer" really meant "babysitter" but wasn't really sure. Oddly, the note did not give the name of this officer or to which exact area she should report. It just said that "further details would be forthcoming." Very mysterious. There was a chime and the comm indicated that Ollu was outside asking for entry. Ramona ping'd the door open and Ollu strode in with brisk efficiency.
"Howdy, Ramona; how are you making out so far?" She looked like she really wanted to know the answer but she seemed a bit tired. Ramona assumed she was coming off shift now that the ship was in FTL and the crew stood down to underway watch-standing.
"Fine, thanks. Just trying to get through the orientation classes. There are a ton of them." Ramona glanced down to the reader that was still open on the bunk, it's holographic surface still showing an image of the 100 damage control stations located throughout the ship.
Ollu smiled. "You know, you have a couple of weeks to get those done. You don't have to do them all today!"
Ramona smiled back, feeling more comfortable talking about training and exams. "Well, they are mostly the same as my ship-handler exams back in the Militia. I figured I could knock down all the repetitive ones right away and then spend my time on the ones that were different. However, I'm on lesson 20 and they're all pretty much the same." She looked down, a little embarrassed. She didn't mean to brag, it was just that the material was something she already knew. She had made it to specialist, first class, in the Militia which meant that she was running her section of five specialists and reporting directly to the Chief of Watch. Most of the material she was reading now was part of Militia ground school. She never would have seen the inside of a garbage scow back on Raeburn without passing this far.
Ollu chuckled a bit. "Yeah, these things are meant for civilians. People with a business background. Last wing wiper we had down here passed all 40 in the first 48 hours. That was a record." Ollu gave Ramona a significant look. "You know, the traders are a competitive lot. Breaking a record means something to them."
That sparked a question in Ramona's head. Ollu seemed open to passing along information so she hazarded the query out loud. "You refer to traders as 'them,' aren't you one of them?"
Now Ollu really laughed. A rich belly laugh that would be expected of someone twice her size. "Lord no." She leaned over a bit to show off the shiny stylized space ship on her shoulder tab. "This here means 'Master Ship Handler' not trader. I'm just the hired help around here. We drive them where they tell us to go and we keep this beast full of air and pointed in the right direction." Ollu gave Ramona a conspiratorial wink. "Sister, you are about to join the most exclusive club in the known universe. Just remember that I knew ya when, OK?." With that she chuckled again and was off to find her rack.