Data Trader Handbook
This document is intended to serve as a study guide for the Data Traders Guild Journeyman’s exam. This exam is composed of four parts, each of which are addressed separately in this guide. The Data Trader’s guild is one of the oldest and most respected guilds in the known galaxy. To be accepted as a Journeyman in this honored profession is one of the highest honors any human can aspire to.
Excerpted With Permission
Data Trader’s Handbook
Copyright 3250, Interstellar Data Trader Guild
Leo quickly checked his uniform as he waited next to the starboard personnel receiving lock. His utilities were fairly clean and the DA Reginald O’Rourke patch was attached on his right shoulder just like the manual said it should be. Glancing down at his chest, the certification tabs he’d earned in brokerage and security were aligned correctly above his RFID tag. His black ship boots probably could have looked better, but they were reasonably clean and had been polished a few weeks back. They’d do to greet a dirty foot apprentice, he reckoned.
Looking down, he consulted the datapad he carried. The picture of the newbie looked pretty ordinary. Short blond hair over a nice-looking face showed a young woman of mixed ethnic descent. Not too uncommon here in Theta quadrant. She had a single tattoo shaped like a diamond below her left eye but was otherwise unremarkable. Glancing at the file again, Trader Apprentice Candidate Ramona Eddington seemed pretty normal. No noted genetic engineering, also pretty normal for this region but the standard augments for health and etc.. Two meters tall was pretty standard for non-augmented humans and the blond hair and blue eyes were not unheard of if a bit uncommon on worlds mostly populated by outcasts from lower down on the spiral arm. The file was pretty vague on her past experience which was unusual. She was listed as an Apprentice Candidate which meant that she had passed her Apprentice written exam but was not yet a member of the Guild. The transfer from field was blank which implied she had no current ship which made sense for a fresh nugget. However she also had a couple of spacer qualifications that you cannot get on the ground (Life Saving, Vacuum; EVA; etc.). This implied spacer experience, but lack of current ship implied she was a dirtyfoot.
Apprentice Spacers born dirtside were not uncommon in the Guild. Leo had been born aboard an Ark to a Trader family but about half the Reggie’s current crew were “dirtyfoots” instead of spacers born. There was a definite bias against those not space born, but in general the Guild was a meritocracy. There was just too much to do and not enough hands to do it for anything else.
Leo glanced at the time. The seconds were ticking away. Time for Apprentice Eddington’s first test. Traders were notoriously compulsive about time and being late to a meeting was considered tantamount to a slap in the face. Operating in an environment where success was measured in milliseconds could do that to you. Three… Two.. One…
The hatch cycled open.
Leo looked up from his pad and did a quick double take. Ramona took a hesitant step into the inner lock and looked tentatively around. Leo shook his head and hoped he looked more dignified than he felt. It wasn’t that Ramona was crazy sexy or even model beautiful. For some reason, she had a presence that had an impact on Leo that went beyond the physical. At 32, Leo thought he had women and dating pretty much figured out even though he had never entered into a long-term contract with anyone. This was something different though. Trying to cover up his consternation, he cleared his throat and put his best “Master to Apprentice” face on. “Apprentice Candidate Eddington? Welcome to the Reggie. I am Journeyman Timur; Leo Timur.”
Ramona turned to see Leo properly. He fervently hoped that his moment of stupidity went unnoticed. A hesitant smile and an extended hand matched her words. “Thank you Journeyman Timur. I am very glad to be here.”
Unlike a military ship, Data Arks were run on a fairly informal basis. This meant no saluting and very little deference to rank, except for the masters who basically ran the show. This is not to say there was no discipline onboard. It was still a working ship and commands sometimes had life and death consequences which meant that the chain of command was always present. After a brief handshake, Leo proceeded with the legal forms necessary to onboard Ramona onto the Reggie. The i’s dotted and t’s crossed, Leo began a very brief tour on the way to Apprentice spaces. As he pointed out the locked hatch to Data Store 10, he asked the question that came to mind when he first read her file. “I assume that this is your first Data Ark since you’re not a member of the Guild but you seem to have some space experience. Have you served on a deep space vessel before?”
She looked down, seemingly embarrassed by the innocuous question. “I served eight years in the Raeburn Guard. Enlisted when I was eighteen and served my time.” Ah, that explained a bit of the file. No official deep space experience with the Guild but plenty of practical experience on a ship. Sometimes ex-military types wound up in the Guild which paid much better and had better amenities when compared to military vessels. Leo didn’t know why she found this embarrassing but was smart enough not to ask about it. Assuming they served together at the trading desk, they would have plenty of time to get to know each other if that’s what she wanted.
“Ah, great. Shouldn’t have any problems with the Apprentice Practicum then.” Leo and Ramona proceed up deck to the Apprentice spaces (female). “We’re a bit old fashioned here on the Reggie, Apprentice Spaces are separated by sex. Female spaces here, Male spaces up on 18. Your deck captain is Olufunke Channah. Just call her Ollu.” With that, he touched the data pad that he’d been carrying so that it showed her berthing space and handed it to her. “Orientation is at 08:00 tomorrow on the trading floor. You have zero level clearance now so you can get to all the common spaces and use the lifts. Anything really interesting is still off limits until you qual in. Questions?” Ramona shook her head with a little smile. Not knowing what the smile meant, Leo nodded and turned back down the corridor.
Ramona turned away from Leo and attempted to access the door to the Apprentice Spaces. The hatch reported as locked and refused to open. Was this a gag for the new nugget? In the guard, there had been plenty of rough gags and outright hazing in some cases, so she expected some amount of rough treatment here in her new ship but she was surprised that it had begun so soon. Before she could formulate a plan, the hatch cycled open and a small woman of African heritage stepped through. To say she was black was a complete misnomer. Although she had the darkest skin of any woman Ramona had ever met, her skin was a dark mahogany. The color of excellent coffee or perhaps the darkest wood you had ever seen. Ramona was instantly jealous of her skin which looked flawless. She was obviously ship-born. There was no way that face had ever seen natural sunlight. The woman caught up short. “Are you Apprentice Eddington?” Ramona could only nod. “Why are you standing in the passageway? I was expecting you in the Apprentice Spaces.”
Ramona wasn’t sure what to say. Any admission of ignorance could be fatal for a new nugget but seeming arrogant or cocky was never a good idea with a new crewmember either. The simple truth was usually best. “The hatch was locked.”
Ollu snorted. “Of course it’s locked. Don’t want some horny apprentice trader showing up at three AM looking for panties, do ya?” Ramona wasn’t sure what to say. She had heard that things could be very loose on a trader ship, but panty raids seemed a bit out of line even for their loose moral code. At least she hadn’t mentioned rape. Not unheard of on Guard vessels, but normally very harshly dealt with. The captain could order summary execution in extreme cases which kept all but the most deranged in check. Ramona had a moment of indecision, had she made a horrible mistake? Ollu noticed her look of horror and took pity on her. “Relax. Some of the youngsters act more like boys than men. The lock is just simpler than giving them punishment duty for being stupid or taking a dare to go into the girl’s shower. Think naughty puppy, not rapist. Just tap your RFID and the door will unlock. Same as any authorized space in the ship.” Looking over to where Ramona’s salad board should be, she saw nothing. Realizing her mistake, she swore in a language that Ramona didn’t understand. “Aw crap. Didn’t Timur give you a RFID? Obviously not, you’re not wearing it. OK.. OK.. Come in out of the corridor and we’ll get you fixed up.” Ollu led her into the compartment which actually proved to be a series of smaller berthing spaces. Walking down the corridor, Ramona peeked into the open doors and saw that the spaces where quite generous by her standards. Each one had a single bunk, a small desk and some built in cabinets for personal storage. Considering her bunk as a new spacer in the guard was a “hot bunk” she shared with another woman, the Apprentice Spaces aboard the Reggie seemed quite luxurious.
Ollu walked back to the Fab station and interacted with the wall mounted terminal. A few minutes later the Fab produced a small white square with Ramona’s name and picture on the front. “Here’s your RFID.” She pronounced it “are-fid” like it was an actual word. “This technology is ancient but it’s guaranteed to work even in complete vacuum and under any sort of nasty environmental condition. The device is sealed and completely passive, no internal power whatsoever. As you can see, the Fab node for the Apprentice spaces is here and you can feel free to print out whatever you need while you’re housed in this unit. We all have a mass limit but you’ll have full archive access once you’re logged in and you’ve posted your Guild papers.”
The last sentence perked Ramona’s ears. She had accepted this berth because it meant an automatic acceptance into The Guild. Her contract had specified that she’d be accepted into the guild as part of the agreement, but she was still dubious it would actually happen that easily. Over the centuries The Guild had gained almost mythical proportions. The idea that a “dirtyfoot” would be allowed to join just by passing a few tests seemed impossible. She had no idea that almost half the ship’s compliment were born planetside, same as her. She had heard dozens of stories on the transfer station about people who had applied but been rejected for spacer posts on Guild vessels. While she trusted that The Guild would back up her contract, she still was a bit in awe of the whole thing. A dark, distrustful part of her expected a cruel trick to play out any second. A bad drama called “Space Slavers” came to mind. The absolutely horrible drama had made the rounds while Ramona was in school. Just the thought that she might be in the clutches of a space slaver made her smile a bit inside. Nothing showed on her face. Growing up in her father’s household had taught her to school her expressions and maintain a calm façade despite the chaos around her. Ollu gave her a brief but comprehensive tour of the spaces including her cabin and a quick introduction to her neighbors on both sides. Wrapping up with instructions on how to reach her duty station the next morning, Ollu managed to surprise Ramona one last time. “Remember, these are the Female Apprentice Spaces. No males allowed. You’re welcome to fuck your brains out outside the spaces, but please keep it outside. Same goes for sexual relations with your other Female Apprentices. Hands off. Bad sexual behavior is grounds for dismissal and you will lose your Guild membership.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
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.