Starman Jones by Robert A. Heinlein

truthfully that he did not have time to play three-dee chess. So Ellie pitched in and helped him. While he was playing the unavoidable game that followed, he attempted a direct approach. “See here, Ellie, I don’t think you ought to stay down here and play three-dee chess with me. The other passengers come down to see their pets and they notice. They’ll gossip.”
    “Pooh!”
    “I mean it. Oh, you and I know it’s all right, but it doesn’t look right.”
    She stuck out her lower lip. “Am I going to have trouble with you? You talk just like Miss Mimsey.”
    “You can come down to see Chipsie, but you’d better come down with one of the other pet owners.”
    She started to make a sharp answer, then shrugged, “Okay, this isn’t the most comfortable place anyhow. From now on, we play in Bifrost Lounge, afternoons when your work is done and evenings.”
    Max protested that Mr. Giordano would not let him; she answered quickly, “Don’t worry about your boss. I can twist him around my little finger.” She illustrated by gesture.
    The picture of the gross Mr. Gee in such a position slowed up Max’s answer, but he finally managed to get out, “Ellie, crew members can’t use the passenger lounge. It’s…”
    “They can so. More than once, I’ve seen Mr. Dumont having a cup of coffee there with Captain Blaine.”
    “You don’t understand. Mr. Dumont is almost an officer, and if the Captain wants him as his guest, well, that’s the Captain’s privilege.”
    “You’d be my guest.”
    “No, I wouldn’t be.” He tried to explain to her the strict regulation that crew members were not to associate with passengers. “The Captain would be angry if he could see us right now—not at you, at me. If he caught me in the passengers’ lounge he’d kick me all the way down to ‘H’ deck.”
    “I don’t believe it.”
    “But…” He shrugged. “All right. I’ll come up this evening. He won’t kick me, actually; that would be beneath him. He’ll just send Mr. Dumont over to tell me to leave, then he’ll send for me in the morning. I don’t mind being fined a month’s pay if that is what it takes to show you the way things are.”
    He could see that he had finally reached her. “Why, I think that’s perfectly rotten! Everybody is equal. Everybody! That’s the law.”
    “They are? Only from on top.”
    She got up suddenly and left. Max again had to soothe Mr. Chips, but there was no one to soothe him. He decided that the day that he and Sam disappeared over a horizon and lost themselves could not come too soon.
    Eldreth returned next day but in company with a Mrs. Mendoza, the devoted owner of a chow who looked much like her. Eldreth treated Max with the impersonal politeness of a lady “being nice” to servants, except for a brief moment when Mrs. Mendoza was out of earshot.
    “Max?”
    “Yes, Miss?”
    “I’ll ‘Yes, Miss’ you! Look, Max, what was your uncle’s name? Was it Chester Jones?”
    “Why, yes, it was. But why…”
    “Never mind.” Mrs. Mendoza rejoined them. Max was forced to drop it.
    The following morning, the dry-stores keeper sought him out. “Hey, Max! The Belly wants you. Better hurry—I think you’re in some sort of a jam.”
    Max worried as he hurried. He couldn’t think of anything he had done lately; he tried to suppress the horrid fear that Ellie was involved.
    It was clear that Mr. Giordano was not pleased but all that he said was, “Report to the Purser’s Office. Jump.” Max jumped.
    The Purser was not there; Mr. Kuiper received him and looked him over with a cold eye. “Put on a clean uniform and make it quick. Then report to the Captain’s cabin.”
    Max stood still and gulped. Mr. Kuiper barked, “Well? Move!”
    “Sir,” Max blurted, “I don’t know where the Captain’s cabin is.”
    “What? I’ll be switched! Able deck, radius nine oh and outboard.” Max moved.
    The Captain was in his cabin. With him was Mr. Samuels the Purser, Mr.