And run a ship more like a heap of wreckage than a vessel designed to survive in the void. One that is undermanned, with faulty equipment and dangerous installations.
Egulus smiled again as he guessed Dumarest's thoughts.
"A ship such as you imagine wouldn't last long in the Rift. Also I have a regard for my life, which is why the Entil is as good as I can make her. But obviously, you've had experience. What as? Steward? Handler?"
"Both."
"And?"
"I know a little about engines. A little more about caskets. And," Dumarest added, "I can operate a table should the need arise."
"A gambler?" Egulus pursed his lips as Dumarest nodded. "And one who can take care of himself if he has to. Good. That's an advantage. Now, this is the situation. You give me the cost of a double High passage and work as one of the crew. When you decide to quit, I'll compute what is your share of the profit and pay you off. Fair enough?"
For the captain, more than fair. Unless he was more honest than his fellows there would be no profits and he and the others would have gained passage money and service for nothing.
Dumarest said, "About the tables. What I win I keep?"
"You know better than that. It goes into the common fund."
"And if I lose?"
"You pay." The captain's tone hardened a little. "And I should warn you that I have no intention of haggling. The cost of a double High passage, take it or leave it. And I want the money now."
"No." Dumarest reached for the wine and called for a new goblet to replace the broken one. "You'll get it after I'm on the ship and we're on our way."
"You have it?" Egulus didn't wait for an answer. "You're committing suicide if you haven't. Unless I get paid, you'll be evicted into the void."
He meant it. Dumarest said, "Don't worry about the money. You'll get it. When do we leave?"
"At noon." Egulus reached for the wine Dumarest had poured. "But we'll hit the gate an hour before dawn. The guards will be sleepy then. I'll arrange for a uniform for you before we leave here and they'll take you for one of my crew."
Chapter Three
The Entil was a pleasant surprise. Despite what the captain had claimed, Dumarest had expected to see the usual dirt and neglect of those sharing partnership and unwilling to perform more than the essential tasks. A ship run on a shoestring, with patches and stained paint and filters which passed dust and tanks which leaked air. He had worked on such vessels and traveled on them too often to have retained any illusions, but the Entil was the exception to the rule.
Dumarest checked it after Egulus had seen him aboard and then moved on to the control room. The passageway was brightly illuminated, the cabins opening on it clean and neat, the paint shining as if newly washed. The salon was well furnished, the gaming table covered in clean, unworn baize, the light above throwing a neatly defined cone of brilliance. Testing the spigots, Dumarest found they not only supplied the normal water, but also a weakly alcoholic fruit drink. Unexpected luxury in any trader or in any vessel lower than the luxury class.
Allain, his guide, shrugged when he mentioned it. The steward was pushing middle age, his face smooth, bland with the diminution of curiosity. A man who had found his niche and who now observed the universe with cynical detachment and an extended palm.
"Egulus is smart. Advertise free wine and it adds the edge to persuading customers to ride with us instead of another. And it whets their appetites for something stronger!"
"Which you can supply?"
"Naturally, and you, too." Allain glanced at the table. "Get them a little high and they get careless. A smart man can really clean up if he puts his mind to it. Well, you'll learn. Now come and meet Jumoke."
Jumoke was the navigator. He was younger than the steward, with intense blue eyes and a mouth which betrayed an inner sensitivity. He rose from the edge of his bunk as Dumarest entered his cabin, extending his hand, lowering it as Dumarest touched the fingers. They were smooth and cool, the nails rounded and neatly polished.
He said, "So you have learned the old customs."
"On a world far from here, yes."
"The touching of hands," explained Jumoke to the steward. "A civilized act or an act performed among civilized peoples to show they have no hostile intent. On some worlds both hands are extended, on others only the empty palms are displayed." To Dumarest he said, "From Naud, perhaps?"
"No."
"Hagor, then? Fiander? Or even Grett? All three worlds use the old custom. Rumor has it they gained it from the Original People, but so often does rumor lie. Personally, I come from Vult. You know it?"
"The cesspool of the Rift," said Allain, before Dumarest could answer. "Every man is a thief or murderer, every woman a harlot, even the children learn to lie and cheat at their mother's knee. A world of madness."
"And our next port of call." Jumoke looked at the steward. "Aren't you supposed to be checking the stores?"
"It's done."
"Completely? You've checked the sensatapes? The rare and delicate wines? The stronger liquors? The preserved delicacies which fetch so high a price? Be careful, my friend. If, by your neglect, we lose a profitable sale, may God help you, for surely we shall not." Jumoke chuckled as the man hastily left the cabin. "He's good at his work but sometimes doubts his memory. Vult always disturbs him. Mention it and you get a tirade. He had a sister once-but never mind that now. We all have burdens to bear. Allain, myself, you-?" He paused then, as Dumarest made no comment, shrugged and smiled. "The captain mentioned you were close. But so close you are reluctant to give the name of your home world?"
"Earth."
"What?"
"Earth," said Dumarest again. The man was a navigator and must have traveled far. And he could have heard the gossip of others of his kind. It was possible he had heard of the planet, knew where it was to be found. A hope which died as Jumoke laughed.
"A humorist! I knew you were a hard man but never that! Earth!" He laughed again, "You know as well as I that you talk of a legendary world. One of many-El Dorado, Bonanza, Jackpot, Avalon-the list is long. Myths invented by men yearning for paradise. Earth!" The navigator shook his head. "The name alone should warn you of its nature. Every world contains earth. They are made of it. Crops grow in it. Who would name a world after dirt?"
"It exists."
"In the mind."
"In space somewhere. It is real."
"Of course." Jumoke sobered, his tone gentle. "If you say so, my friend. Who am I to argue? We must talk more on the subject, but later. Now I have work to do in the control room; sensors to check and instruments to test. You understand?" Then, as he stepped toward the door of the cabin, he added, "A word of advice. The captain has little use for those who are less than serious. If he should ask about your home world, it would be best to lie a little. Tell him you were born on Ottery, for example. Or Heeg. They, at least, are in the almanac."
Outside, the passage was deserted. As Jumoke headed toward the control room, Dumarest moved in the other direction toward the hold and engine room. As handler, it was his job to check the stowing of cargo and to operate the caskets designed for the transportation of beasts and often used to carry those riding Low; people traveling doped, frozen and ninety percent dead, risking the fifteen percent death rate for the sake of cheap transportation.
Now the caskets were empty and the cargo, a mass of bales and metal-strapped boxes, already in place. Dumarest checked the restraints, tightening and adjusting as needed. More cargo could arrive before they left, but he doubted it. From what Egulus had told him, the main trade of the Entil was in carrying passengers. Some of them could have personal luggage, and maybe personal packets of stores and cargo, but they would arrive with their owners.
Crouching, Dumarest checked the caskets, tracing the wires and pipes, rising to swing open the transparent lids, closing them and operating the controls and watching the gauges showing the drop in temperature. As he lowered the lid of the last, he saw the woman standing in the open doorway leading to the engine room.
She was tall, with a helmet of glinting blonde hair, the tresses cropped to hug the head and to frame the wide, strongly boned face. The shoulders were wide, a support for the muscles supporting the prominent breasts which thrust unmistakable mounds beneath the tunic of her uniform. Her eyes were oval pools of vivid blueness, her ears small and set tight against the head, the nose a little uptilted above a generous mouth. The chin matched the cropped hair in its masculine determination and when she spoke, her voice held a deep resonance.
"Satisfied?"
"Number two needs some attention to the hinges."
"And?"
"Number four is sluggish on the intake."