The Other Side of Nowhere

Braden headed aft - downward - with four blasters and four very wicked sheath knives on his person. One of the blasters was his own. He hadn't reported its recovery because the skipper had ordered him to leave the steward alone. He had. He'd only not left the steward's cabin alone. He'd simply taken his blaster from under the steward's pillow.

He passed the galley, which was entirely unlike the food preparation arrangements in surface transportation. Here there were no stoves, no succulent odors of cooking foods, no dishwashers, practically no refrigerator. Instead, precooked meals, designed to look appetizing, were stored in nested plastic containers behind glass doors. Preparation of a meal consisted of putting this container or that in warming-cabinets, another container into a chilling unit, the dessert perhaps into a quick-freezer. The kitchen was odorless and hence put no burden on the ship's air-freshening system. Meals were served by quickly snipping the sealed plastic covers and placing the food on the table.

The steward was busy in the galley, preparing to serve the passengers. As Braden went past, he looked up and smiled brightly. He went back to his work with a fine air of absorption.

Braden stopped and went back to the door.

"Steward," he said coldly, "you were right about the crew having arms."

The steward looked up from his work and shook his head sorrowfully.

"I'm very apprehensive, sir," he said. "Things look bad, sir. I can't imagine how the word got out!" When Braden merely stood silently, he continued. "About the money, sir. For Handel's Planet. The men aground there were getting restless. It's not a lively business, unloading drone ships that come down by rocket, with every pound weight costing a fortune. There's no recreation. So it was decided to pay them off in cash. With money in his pocket a man can always amuse himself, sir. So we're not only carrying the grid and other equipment, sir, we're carrying money for the men to jingle in their pockets. There'll be some very fancy gambling after working-hours when that money's in circulation! The men will get action for their money. They'll have reason to go on working. But the fact that we're carrying some millions in cash for that purpose shouldn't have been allowed to leak out. That's bad, sir! Very bad!"

"Oh," said Braden.

He went on toward the passengers' quarters. He was much more than suspicious of the steward, but this statement might be true. He hadn't heard the rumor before he signed on, but it might have been common knowledge. If so, it was an excellent reason for five men of a certain type to sign on the Rim Star to get to Handel's Planet. But such an explanation was not consoling. Quite the contrary!

Braden found himself wondering skeptically if the steward would have been quite as chatty if he'd known of Braden's recovery of his blaster, and where it had been found.

Braden went into the passengers' quarters. Fortescue was fumbling with the vision-screen controls, trying to get an image. One doesn't see outside, in overdrive. There's nothing to see. The ship is surrounded by a shell of negatively stressed space which lets nothing come through. A ship in overdrive is practically in a private cosmos the size of its overdrive field.

"I hate to say it, Mr. Braden," said the actor amiably, "but we need the vision screens repaired. They're off."

"They'll come on again," Braden told him, "when we get where we're going. Not until then." He looked about.

"Where's Duckworth?"

It appeared that Duckworth was checking the cameras as Hardy and Diane unpacked them. When Braden would have left, Fortescue said amiably:

"Comforting man, that steward of yours! I had the quivers - this is my first trip in space, you know - and he stopped them. He said a trip in overdrive is like a term in jail. Is that right?"

"When you're lucky, yes," said Braden.

"I can't imagine anything more consoling," said Fortescue with a grin. "I took this job because I needed it, and of course if Derr makes a comeback I'll get a break. But... did you ever hear of an accident-prone person, Mr. Braden? A man who's always in accidents? Things that happen around him all the time in defiance of probability?"

"They used to call them Jonahs," said Braden.

"I'm not accident-prone," said Fortescue cheerfully. "Accidents don't happen around me more than around other people. But I'm excitement-prone. If I take a walk down the street, there's a hold-up or a suicide, or a manic-depressive switches cycles and starts to walk through crowded traffic on his hands. Or maybe a man catches his wife out with another man and tries to kill him, or a woman catches her husband out with another woman and tries to kill her. You've no idea how wearing it is, Mr. Braden!"