easier still. Soon it becomes a way of life. What made you give it up?'
'Three years in a Rhodian jail.' Urich was blunt. 'It taught me a lot of things, among them that I wasn't cut out to be a criminal or an adventurer. So I settled down to work, lived rough; saved like a miser and bought some education. I was bright and lucky and managed to get established as a trainee engineer on the Chronos Line. Ten years of eating dirt but I worked my indenture and paid all charges and was free to go where I wanted. The galaxy to rove in-and I wound up back on Krantz.'
'Home.'
'Home?' Urich's laugh was bitter. 'I'd forgotten what it was like. What the Ypsheim are like. Dreamers content to live as slaves for, while there is life, there is hope. Live today for tomorrow may come the millennium. Tomorrow… tomorrow… always tomorrow-but tomorrow never comes.'
'So you sold your skills to the Quelen.' Dumarest nodded then added, 'But not all the Ypsheim are as you say. Some of them do more than dream.'
'Like Belkner and his women and all the rest of them on board. Thieves! They robbed me of-'
'Why not?' Dumarest was harsh. 'Did you think of the spacer when you went after his cash? Care what happened to him? The others you robbed? Do you give a damn for the animals killed so you can eat meat? The slaughter? The stink? The blood and pain? What makes you so special?'
Urich said, 'You've made your point. If I repair the ship will you take Eunice and me back to Krantz?'
'To the Wheel? To the whip and public execution? You know what will happen if we go back. The Quelen will make an example of us so as to keep others in line. You too- they'll never believe you weren't in on it from the beginning.'
'You'd make sure of that.' Urich frowned then said, 'Where are you bound for?'
'Would you believe me if I told you we were heading for Earth?'
'Earth?' Urich's hand rose to touch his forehead, the scar no longer visible but which would stay with him all his life. 'You're bound for Earth?' He rose from the bunk, smiling. 'Then we'd better get to those engines.'
Batrun leaned back in his chair, relaxed, eyes casual as he checked the panels, the screens. All was as it should be and he reached for his snuff, lifting a pinch from the box, closing the lid before sniffing the fragrant powder. It enhanced his feeling of well-being, of warm, snug security. And it was good to be in command of a real ship again. A ship with enough officers to do the job, with a cargo in the hold and passengers in the cabins, no longer crippled and diving toward a sun.
Urich Sheiner had seen to that. A good man and a damned good engineer.
There was a light and a voice from the intercom as Batrun hit a button. Talion from the engine room.
'Routine report, Captain. All systems functioning in the green. Drive operating at five per cent below max. No fluctuation. Automatics engaged. Orders?'
'Maintain status. How's the head?'
'Fine aside from a slight ache. Usual watches?'
'Yes, but watch that head. If it gets worse report to Earl.'
Dumarest, not Ava who had acted the nurse. And Urich was a passenger not a spare engineer as Talion could have feared. On any ship the crew remained a group apart; if help was wanted from others it was on a temporary basis only.
Bartun took more snuff and looked again at the screens. Empty now but for the stars and the familiar pattern of the universe. Worlds and suns past which they hurtled with a wanton disregard for the economic use of fuel. To get where they were going and to get there fast-a necessity imposed by their freight and by Dumarest who wanted no stops.
He moved through the ship on a routine inspection, pausing to open doors, to scan the interiors of cabins. All not reserved for the crew were filled with Ypsheim. More were in the salon and part of the hold. All riding High; drugged with quick-time, their metabolism slowed so as to turn normal hours into fleeting minutes. To Dumarest they looked like frozen statues.
As did Urich and Eunice.
He sat beside the bunk on which she lay, one of her hands in his own, his head lowered over her face. The prelude to a kiss, perhaps, or the aftermath of one. A position adopted for intimate conversation, but if they talked Dumarest heard nothing. Any sounds they made were too deep and slow to register as his movements and those of the door were too fast for them to see.
As he turned from the cabin Belkner came toward him, Ava Vasudiva at his side. Both were on normal time so as to help the others. Both had the look of lovers-and something else.
'Earl!' Belkner was smiling. 'I want to ask something of you. A favor. Will you grant it?'
'If I can.' Dumarest looked from one to the other. 'What is it?'
'We want to get married.' Ava hugged Belkner's arm. 'As quickly as we can. Could you arrange it? Please!'
Happiness had made her radiant, flushing her cheeks and heightening her color so as to make livid the cruciform scar, enhanced now by the blue paint which filled the quadrants to create a disc quartered by a cross. Belkner's scar had been treated the same way.
'Married?' Dumarest's smile matched her own. 'Of course you can be married. The captain will be happy to conduct the ceremony.'
'And you'll stand at my side?' Belkner added, 'It's our custom-someone strong who will give protection.' A leftover from the days when such protection was needed. 'Will you?'
'And witnesses?' said Ava as Dumarest nodded. 'Can we have witnesses?'
'Two only.' Dumarest's tone brooked no argument. 'You can take their place after the wedding.' With a smile he added, 'For you this should be a short journey.'
The ceremony was a quick affair. Afterward, lying on the wide bed in their cabin, Ysanne, who had stood beside Ava, said, with a touch of regret, 'I envy them, Earl. Did you see their faces? Like children on a picnic. As if they had been shown a treasure-house and told to help themselves.'
He nodded, not answering. Beside him he could feel the warmth of her body as she came closer toward him but he remained supine, staring at the ceiling.
'Earl?' Her hand touched his naked torso, her fingers tracing the pattern of his scars. 'Why can't people always feel like that? Alive and happy and full of concern for each other? Why must life always become so damned complicated?' Her fingers paused in their questing. 'Earl?'
'I'm not asleep.'
'Thinking of the wedding? Well she has her certificate and had her witnesses even though she wanted more. Two were enough but you could have let a score attend with no danger of losing the ship.' She had guessed why he'd limited the number. 'No guts,' she said. 'That's why they get pushed around.'
'Like cattle.' Ysanne moved closer. The watch-schedule left them little private time together and the ceremony had stimulated her emotions. 'Why take them with us? I could find a world where they would make us a profit.' She found his hand and moved it so he could feel the febrile heat of her flesh. 'Dump and run, Earl. Why not?'
'No.'
'Then-' She chuckled at the obvious explanation. 'Workers,' she said. 'You want them to haul and carry once we reach Earth. To load the hold with all the treasure that's waiting. They'd be good at that. You could even dress and arm them so as to look like guards. A threat if anyone wanted to stop us. They wouldn't be any good but the opposition wouldn't know that.' She moved his hand to another place. 'We could even trade-Ava has a certain appeal. I know places where she'd fetch a high price.' Her voice changed a little, took on an edge. 'If she was for sale, Earl, would you buy her?'
'No.'
'You think she's plain?'
'I think she has pride. The man who bought her would get a corpse for his money.'
'Pride? The bitch would kill herself rather than survive- and you call it pride?' Ysanne reared up beside him. 'Are you thinking of her, Earl? Lying there wishing you were her husband. That she was beside you instead of me? Is that it?' Her voice rose even higher. 'Damn you, Earl-look at me!'
He said, 'Not when you're jealous.'
'What?'
'You look ugly when you're jealous. As if you could kill someone.'
