find it inBerth 17, madam. I wish you a pleasant trip to Wotex.” He said it in the grand manner.
He then returned to his task of putting in surreptitious calls to friends in the City for more information and of trying, even more unobtrusively, to tap private power-beam conversations in Upper City.
It was hours before he found out that he had made a horrible mistake.
Rik said, “Lona!”
He tugged at her elbow, pointed quickly and whispered, “That one!”
Valona looked at the indicated ship doubtfully. It was much smaller than the ship in Berth 17, for which their tickets held good. It looked more burnished. Four air locks yawned open and the main port gaped, with a ramp leading from it like an outstretched tongue reaching to ground level.
Rik said, “They’re airing it. They usually air passenger ships before flight to get rid of the accumulated odor of canned oxygen, used and reused.”
Valona stared at him. “How do you know?”
Rik felt a sprig of vanity grow within himself. “I just know. You see, there wouldn’t be anyone in it now. It isn’t comfortable, with the draft on.”
He looked about uneasily. “I don’t know why there aren’t more people about, though. Was it like this when you used to watch it?”
Valona thought not, but she could scarcely remember. Childhood memories were far away.
There was not a patroller in sight as they walked up the ramp on quivering legs. What figures they could see were civilian employees, intent on their own jobs, and small in the distance.
Moving air cut through them as they stepped into the hold and Valona’s dress bellied so that she had to bring her hands down to keep the hemline within bounds.
“Is it always like this?” she asked. She had never been on a spaceship before; never dreamed of being on one. Her lips stuck together and her heart pounded.
Rik said, “No. Just during aeration.”
He walked joyfully over the hard metallite passageways, inspecting the empty rooms eagerly.
“Here,” he said. It was the galley.
He spoke rapidly. “It isn’t food so much. We can get along without food for quite a while. It’s water.”
He rummaged through the neat and compact nestings of utensils and came up with a large, capped container. He looked about for the water tap, muttered a breathless hope that they had not neglected to fill the water tanks, then grinned his relief when the soft sound of pumps came, and the steady gush of liquid.
“Now just take some of the cans. Not too many. We don’t want them to take notice.”
Rik tried desperately to think of ways of countering discovery. Again he groped for something he could not quite remember. Occasionally he still ran into those gaps in his thought and, cowardlike, he avoided them, denied their existence.
He found a small room devoted to fire-fighting equipment, emergency medical and surgical supplies, and welding equipment.
He said with a certain lack of confidence, “They won’t be in here, except in emergencies. Are you afraid, Lona?”
“I won’t be afraid with you, Rik,” she said humbly. Two days before, no, twelve hours before, it had been the other way around. But on board ship, by some transmutation of personality she did not question, it was Rik who was the adult, she who was the child.
He said, “We won’t be able to use lights because they wouldnotice the power drain, and to use the toilets, we’ll have to wait for rest periods and try to get out past any of the night crew.”
The draft cut off suddenly. Its cold touch on their faces was no longer there and the soft, steady humming sound, that had distantly accompanied it, stopped and left a large silence to fill its place.
Rik said, “They’ll be boarding soon, and then we’ll be out in space.”
Valona had never seen such joy in Rik’s face. He was a lover going to meet his love.
If Rik had felt a man on awaking that dawn, he was a giant now, his arms stretching the length of the Galaxy. The stars
He then returned to his task of putting in surreptitious calls to friends in the City for more information and of trying, even more unobtrusively, to tap private power-beam conversations in Upper City.
It was hours before he found out that he had made a horrible mistake.
Rik said, “Lona!”
He tugged at her elbow, pointed quickly and whispered, “That one!”
Valona looked at the indicated ship doubtfully. It was much smaller than the ship in Berth 17, for which their tickets held good. It looked more burnished. Four air locks yawned open and the main port gaped, with a ramp leading from it like an outstretched tongue reaching to ground level.
Rik said, “They’re airing it. They usually air passenger ships before flight to get rid of the accumulated odor of canned oxygen, used and reused.”
Valona stared at him. “How do you know?”
Rik felt a sprig of vanity grow within himself. “I just know. You see, there wouldn’t be anyone in it now. It isn’t comfortable, with the draft on.”
He looked about uneasily. “I don’t know why there aren’t more people about, though. Was it like this when you used to watch it?”
Valona thought not, but she could scarcely remember. Childhood memories were far away.
There was not a patroller in sight as they walked up the ramp on quivering legs. What figures they could see were civilian employees, intent on their own jobs, and small in the distance.
Moving air cut through them as they stepped into the hold and Valona’s dress bellied so that she had to bring her hands down to keep the hemline within bounds.
“Is it always like this?” she asked. She had never been on a spaceship before; never dreamed of being on one. Her lips stuck together and her heart pounded.
Rik said, “No. Just during aeration.”
He walked joyfully over the hard metallite passageways, inspecting the empty rooms eagerly.
“Here,” he said. It was the galley.
He spoke rapidly. “It isn’t food so much. We can get along without food for quite a while. It’s water.”
He rummaged through the neat and compact nestings of utensils and came up with a large, capped container. He looked about for the water tap, muttered a breathless hope that they had not neglected to fill the water tanks, then grinned his relief when the soft sound of pumps came, and the steady gush of liquid.
“Now just take some of the cans. Not too many. We don’t want them to take notice.”
Rik tried desperately to think of ways of countering discovery. Again he groped for something he could not quite remember. Occasionally he still ran into those gaps in his thought and, cowardlike, he avoided them, denied their existence.
He found a small room devoted to fire-fighting equipment, emergency medical and surgical supplies, and welding equipment.
He said with a certain lack of confidence, “They won’t be in here, except in emergencies. Are you afraid, Lona?”
“I won’t be afraid with you, Rik,” she said humbly. Two days before, no, twelve hours before, it had been the other way around. But on board ship, by some transmutation of personality she did not question, it was Rik who was the adult, she who was the child.
He said, “We won’t be able to use lights because they wouldnotice the power drain, and to use the toilets, we’ll have to wait for rest periods and try to get out past any of the night crew.”
The draft cut off suddenly. Its cold touch on their faces was no longer there and the soft, steady humming sound, that had distantly accompanied it, stopped and left a large silence to fill its place.
Rik said, “They’ll be boarding soon, and then we’ll be out in space.”
Valona had never seen such joy in Rik’s face. He was a lover going to meet his love.
If Rik had felt a man on awaking that dawn, he was a giant now, his arms stretching the length of the Galaxy. The stars
Similar Books
