ELTHORIA KEPT A twenty-eight hour "day," divided into four shifts, two on, two off, which made for a slightly longer work day than the Market's twenty-four hour, two-shift cycle. Jethri, who had been used to reading and studying well into his off-shift, scarcely noticed the additional hours.
His work now—that was different. No more Stinks. If Elthoria had Stinks, which Jethri took leave to doubt, it was nothing mentioned to him by his new acquaintances, though they were careful to show him as much of the ship as an apprentice trader might need to know. His new status meant no more assisting in the galley, a duty he might've missed, if there'd been any time for it, which there wasn't, his time being entirely and systematically crammed full with lessons, study and more lessons.
Some things were routine, and it eased him somehow to find that Elthoria kept emergency protocols—in which he was relentlessly trained by no lesser person than Arms Master sig'Kethra. Over the course of three shifts, he was drilled in the location and operation of the lifeboats, shown the various boltholes, emergency hatches and hand-grabs. He was also measured for a suit, it being discovered to the chagrin of the supply master that none of those on draw would fit.
Other things, they weren't so routine—more of that, which is what he'd figured to find. For instance, he had a trade locker all to himself, which was scrupulously the same size as his stateroom, it being the policy on Elthoria that traders should have as much room to work in as they had to sleep in. He wished he'd thought to convert some of his cash to something useful out of the Market—but he hadn't had much time to cry about that missed opportunity, either.
First thing on shift, right after breakfast, he sat with the tutor-tapes in the ship's library, brushing up on his written and spoken Liaden. Then, he met with Protocol Officer Ray Jon tel'Ondor, which was more language lessons, putting dry learning into practical use. Master tel'Ondor was also of an ambition to teach Jethri his bows, though he made no secret of the fact that Jethri was the least apt pupil he had encountered in long years of tutoring arrogant young traders in protocol.
After Master tel'Ondor, there was exercise—a mandated ship's hour every day at the weights and the treadmills, then a shower, a meal, and more reading, this on the subjects of trade guild rules and custom regs. After that, there was the Terran-tutoring with Gaenor tel'Dorbit. The first mate being of a restless habit, that meant more exercise, as they walked the long hallways of Elthoria. Despite the extra walking, Jethri quickly came to look forward to this part of his duty-day. Gaenor was younger than Master ven'Deelin and Pen Rel, and she smiled nicely from time to time in her lessons, which Jethri particularly liked.
Gaenor's idea of being tutored was to just start talking—about the events of the previous shift, her family's home in a dirt-based city called Chonselta, the latest book she was reading, or the ship's itinerary. Jethri's responsibility was to stop her when she misspoke, and say the words over in the right order and pronunciation. So it was that he became informed of ship's policy, gossip and ports o'call, as well as the names of certain flowers which Gaenor particularly missed from home.
The first mate having access to just about every portion of the ship, Jethri also found himself informed of various lockers and pod connections, and was introduced to each of the ship's company as they were encountered during the ramble. Some of the crew seemed not so pleased to see him, some seemed . . . puzzled. Most seemed not to care much, one way or the other. All were grave and polite, like they oughta be, Jethri thought, with the first mate looking on. Still, he thought that these catch-as-can introductions at the mate's side. . . helped. Helped him put names and faces and responsibilities together. Helped them to see he really was part of the crew, pulling his weight, just like they were.
One person who seemed outright happy to welcome him was Vil Tor, ship's librarian. As it happened that Vil Tor also had an ambition to add Terran to his speakables, Gaenor and Jethri had taken to including the library as a regular stop. This time out, though, they'd found the door locked, lights out. Gaenor sighed, slim shoulders dropping for a moment, then turned and started back down the hall, swinging out with a will.
"This our ship, Elthoria," Gaenor said, as they hit the end of the hall and swept left, toward Hydroponics; "will be inputting to Spacestation Kailipso. . . "
"Putting in," Jethri panted. "Elthoria will be putting in to Kailipso Station."
"Hah." Gaenor flicked a glance his way; she wasn't even breathing hard. "Elthoria," she repeated, slowing her pace by a fraction, "will be putting in to Spacestation Kailipso—bah!—Kailipso Station—putting in to Kailipso Station within three ship days. There is a—a . . . " She stopped entirely and turned to face Jethri, holding two hands up, palm out, signifying she had not the necessary Terran words to hand.
"It is to have a meeting of the masters, on subjects interested in the masters. . . "
The immediate phrase that came to mind was "jaw-fest," which Jethri thought might not be the sort of Terran Master ven'Deelin wanted Gaenor to be learning. He frowned after the polite and after a moment was able to offer, "a symposium."
"Sim-po-zium," Gaenor said, her mouth pinching up like the word tasted bad. "So, there is a sim-po-zium upon Kailipso. The ven'Deelin attends—the ven'Deelin will attend. The crew will be at leave." She moved her shoulders, not quite a Terran shrug, but not quite admiring of Kailipso Station, all the same.
"Don't like Kailipso much?" he ventured, and Gaenor's mouth pinched again before she turned and recommenced marching down the hall.
"It is cold," she said to the empty corridor, and then began to tell him of the latest developments in the novel she was reading. He had to catch up, hoping that she put his delay down to his being somewhat less fit, and not his taking a moment to admire her walk.