Free Dumarest 33 - Child of Earth by E.C. Tubb Page B

woman depicted with her knees drawn to her chin, head, back, buttocks and limbs blending in a smooth, continuous curve. The figure was worn with much handling.
    “Sir!” He handed it to the captain then saw the expression on the lined face. “Sir?”
    “Do you always move as fast as that?”
    “It was falling and I didn’t want it to get broken.”
    “So you saw it begin to fall, lunged forward, stooped and snatched it before it could hit the deck.” The captain tossed the carving into the air, caught it, caressed it with the ball of his thumb and tucked it into a pocket. “Quick thinking, boy. Can you read?”
    “Yes, sir. A little. An old man taught me in exchange for food.” He added, “He had some books but those who killed him burned them for fuel.”
    “They murdered him?”
    “They thought he had things of value!”
    “I see.” The captain drew in his breath. “You’ve had a hell of a life. But it could change. Are you willing to work hard? To learn?” As Dumarest nodded he added, “Damn it! I’ll take a chance! You can work your passage. Ride with us as crew. It will be a restricted life and it won’t be easy. But, at least, you won’t starve. Report to Dorph, the steward. You’ll find him in the salon.”
    Shandaha said, “So that was the beginning. Was it a happy time?”
    “Why don’t you find out?”
    “I’d prefer you to tell me.”
    “And if I don’t?”
    “From an ignorant and frightened boy who couldn’t even recognize a ship when he saw one you have progressed far. Far enough, surely, to recognize the advisability of cooperation. I ask you again. Was it a happy time?”
    Dumarest remained silent, taking his time. There had been none of the previous ritual. No soothing drink or attached electrodes sprouting from an electronic machine. Both had been unnecessary, direct contact had been enough. Why had Shandaha chosen to reveal that facet of his power? Why, now, was he displaying impatience, the hint of a threat? Nothing seemed to have changed. The man and the room was as he remembered, the chairs, the table, the decanter glowing with emerald wine. Deliberately he filled two goblets and handed one to his host.
    Lifting his own he said, “To harmony.”
    “I asked a question, Earl. Answer it.”
    Dumarest caught the hint of impatience that, too easily, could lead to anger. Even so he drank then, lowering the goblet, stared directly at his host.
    “No, it was not a happy time. Not at first. The steward had a sadistic bent and enjoyed describing to me exactlywhat happened to those evicted into space. What would happen to me if I crossed him in any way. My eyes bulging from their sockets. The lungs spewing from by chest to hang like balloons from my mouth. The ruptured skin. The boiling blood. The ghastly pain.”
    “He lied.” Shandaha sipped at his wine. “That is not how men die in the void.”
    “I know that now. I didn’t then.”
    Dumarest drew in his breath, remembering another time, another place when he had faced the frigid, mindnumbing vastness of the universe. A thing he had been forced to do; an experience he would never forget.
    Shandaha, watching him, said, “The others?”
    “Weren’t as bad but they were bored and I provided amusement. They teased me. I know now it was little more than a form of hazing. A ritual inflicted on most apprentices and novices. Cruel but basically harmless. But I was a boy, ignorant as you reminded me, helpless, insecure, terrified. No, it was not a happy time.”
    “And then?”
    “Most of what I did was to clean. The salon, cabins, the steward’s domain. Then I expanded into that of the handler, to the caskets in the hold, the hold itself. Zander was the engineer. One day he asked me to help him. He was busy with the generator and wanted it cleaned and checked for corrosion. Signs of failing insulation or extended wear. Basically it was routine maintenance. We talked as we worked, him telling me what to do and me doing it.