Quarter Share: A Trader's Tale from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper by Nathan Lowell Page B

chuckled. “So it would seem. I never did find out why Mr. Maxwell was willing to take the trade, but that enjoy-the-ride speech was the last thing Alvarez told me before she kicked me out of the lock. It stuck with me. I’ve fit in better here, certainly. It feels more like I belong. But I think part of it is because I have taken a different approach and enjoying the ride, as it were.”
    I nodded and we worked on the pans in comfortable silence for a time.
    “Cookie was here last night.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.
    “That’s odd. What’d he want?”
    “Odd isn’t the half of it. He wanted me to select a specialty to pursue.”
    Pip snickered. “Great gods and small piscatorials, you haven’t been here a month and he’s already planning your future?”
    I shrugged and handed him a pot to dry and stow. “More like, he’s afraid I’m gonna get bored as a cook and I need to be working on my next step now so I’ll be ready when the opportunity comes.”
    Pip nodded and gave me a rueful grin. “Yeah, he’s always after me to pursue something, too.”
    “So…?”
    “So, what?” He looked at me blankly.
    “What are you pursuing?”
    He looked a little sheepish. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
    I crossed my heart, leaving wet, soapy smears on my shipsuit.
    He glanced over his shoulder before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Trade.”
    “What’s that mean? You’re going for cargo master?”
    “Shh, keep it down. No, I’m running some smaller deals of my own.”
    “You’re what?”
    He looked over his shoulder at the door before continuing. “I’m picking up goods in one port and selling them at the next. Private cargo. Everybody’s allowed to do it. It’s in The Handbook , section fourteen. So long as you stay within your mass quota and don’t break any Confederation regulations, you can bring almost anything you want aboard including trade goods.”
    I looked at him, dumbfounded.
    “It’s true. You can look it up.”
    “I believe you. It just never occurred to me.”
    He grinned. “Almost everybody does it to some degree. I’m just a little more serious about it than most.”
    “Then why the big secret?” He had me glancing over my shoulder as well.
    He looked at me exasperated. “What do you think got me off on the wrong foot on the Duchamp?”
    I shrugged. “I figured it was the scrubber incident.”
    He shook his head. “No, that was just the set up. When they found out I was serious about private trading, they started making fun of me. They teased me because I kept bragging about making a killing with private trade with just a quarter share’s mass allotment. I think they figured if I was too green to know about pull out I must be clueless about trade as well. It didn’t take long before I was a laughing stock.” He stowed a tray under the counter. “The more I tried to explain, the worse it got.”
    I stacked the last pot in the drying rack and rinsed out the deep sink. “Yeah, I guess I can see that.”
    Pip looked miserable. “It made my life difficult. Somebody was always ragging on me about what I had for trade goods and laughing at the things I brought aboard.” He sighed and looked a bit sheepish. “It sounds pretty petty now, but it was miserable to live through.”
    “So, you’re still trading, but you’re keeping it quiet.”
    He nodded with a little shrug.
    We finished the clean up, and I went to prep for more coffee. I called back over my shoulder as I measured grounds into the filter.
    “So, how’s it working out?”
    He grinned wolfishly. “Well, I’ve only made a few hundred creds, but I haven’t lost any yet.”
    “Did you pick up something on Neris?”
    He looked at me like I was much stupider than I usually felt. “What do you think?”
    “Come on, tell me.”
    He lowered his voice. “Granapple brandy.”
    “What?” I tried not to laugh. I didn’t want to be like those on the Duchamp but granapple brandy wasn’t exactly