Free Glory by Alfred Coppel

Glory’s inner spaces. It was .kept open primarily by air pressure, although there were titanium ribs at intervals. If punctured, the tube would pinch shut to isolate the damage until it could be repaired by a monkey, or if the damage were really serious, by a member of the crew in space armor. To a man as practiced as Jean Marq, a transit tube was like the barrel of a gun to a bullet. He, and all the others, could literally fly through Glory .
     
    Duncan Kr lifted himself from the glyceroid and floated free. Without bothering to dress he moved to an auxiliary panel and activated the spar cameras. A holocube came alive with the computer image of Glory’s rig. Sails gleamed gold in the light of the Luyten sun--still distant with a barely discernible disc. The intricate web of the monofilament rig made a fantastic pattern of silvery threads against the black of space.
    The star Glory was approaching looked slightly bluer than it was and the stars astern were red-shifted. Glory carried a substantial percentage of light-speed, though she was using her backed royals and main t’gallants to bleed off velocity. The sails nearest the hull coruscated with a shower of inhibited tachyons. They created a glow of St. Elmo’s fire along the spars. The effect was startlingly beautiful, even to an old hand like Duncan. The golden fire transformed Glory ’s top hamper into a living design, glittering against the night.
    Still connected, Duncan said: “Anya, Jean can take over now. Disconnect.”
    “Yes, Duncan.” The thought was clear and without overtones. When Anya sailed, she was a sailor, nothing more.
    Duncan studied the holograph of Glory ’s rig. To his practiced eye the location of the hundred or more monkeys was clearly visible. And so was Damon, falling free, a dozen meters from the mizzentop. Duncan could read his fear from his spread-eagled position and the pulsebeat of apprehension that leaked through from the telemetry to the computer interface.
    “Damon. This is the Master. Use a tether, damn it.”
    “Don’t be angry, Duncan.” There was a mental quaver in the transmission.
    “I’m not angry. But use a tether when you are EVA from now on. That is an order.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “That should make him happy.”
    Duncan turned to see Jean Marq on the bridge. When the Master did not reply to Jean’s comment, the Frenchman said, “He does it on purpose, you know. He enjoys being terrified.”
    The glow from the holocube showed the Mathematician’s stubbled face and hollow eyes. The cadence of his speech made Duncan aware that he had Dusted immediately upon waking from his nightmares.
    “I know why he does it, Jean,” Duncan said. “Are you fit to take your watch? I can stay on if you want.”
    “I am all right, Duncan. Are we about free of the Oort Cloud?”
    “We are in Drache’s swept space.”
    “In the wake of the Dragon,” Marq said. “How fitting.” His eyes flickered as Anya rose from her pod and pulled her drogue free. It retracted into the Conn Panel and the girl floated out of the pod and stretched, Mira-like, arching her back and extending her arms and legs. Her fine, dark hair formed a cloud around her small, well-shaped head. She smiled at the Frenchman and said, “Hallo, Jean. Rest well?”
    Marq wondered if she had been spying on him. But no. He knew that Anya was more sensitive to Glory and all her sailing parts, than to the living things inside her. Except, perhaps, Mira. She loved the cursed animal and her brood of kittens. It disgusted the mathematician that Mira’s pregnancy, too, had been arranged by Krieg with a vial of frozen genetically enhanced cat sperm. Marq looked away from the naked Anya as tiny fires raced through his nervous system. Dust and sexual arousal had conflicting effects. Marq wondered if that was why he Dusted.
     
    Duncan removed his drogue and suffered that familiar diminution of vision when he separated himself from Glory . He turned again to watch the