In an upland jungle a hideous demon stood, his lower body like that of a water buffalo, his upper that of a man. His face was that of an ape, with the tusks and ears of an elephant, and the horns of a goat. In his hands he bore a sword and shield. Against him rode a beautiful young woman mounted on a lion. She wore a crown, and from her torso sprang ten arms: two bore sword and shield; two drew the bow; one wielded the sharpened steel ring; one held an elephant goad; one a bell, one a bowl; one a mace; the last a prayer wheel. They battle continually until the demon crouched for one last spring and ...
A giant stairway, kilometers wide, stretched below and above to infinity. In middle of the golden stairway two figures can be seen. The lower is a loathsome creature, its form unstable, difficult to distinguish but repulsive nevertheless. The figure above looks human, a body clad in raiment and armor so bright they are hard to look upon. But from the creature's shoulders spread immense and graceful wings, their feathers glinting with metallic iridescence. The face is human, but inhumanly beautiful, neither male nor female, as majestic as truth and as cold as justice. With both hands, it swings a titantic sword with blade of blinding fire. The dark being quails and shrinks, inching down the stairway. The evil one tries to rise but is repeatedly forced back, growing weaker and less menacing by the moment, retreating faster, then fleeing, and then ...
Kelly came to with a jolt. He was on the floor of the navigator's bubble, leaning against the depolarizer consoles. He looked around. The others stared back at him, and at each other. The Vivers were in control of their bodies, but appeared uncharacteristically subdued. Only Homer seemed unchanged, and it was always difficult to tell about Homer anyway.
"It's over," said the skipper. "Sphere won."
"I witness that Allah is great," said Achmed, still in a daze. "I witness that He is One."
"Now what?" asked Torwald. Kelly had never heard the veteran spacer sounding so weary.
"That was the question you were getting so tired of," said Michelle.
Now I shall continue my task.
"But, you won."
Only this little skirmish. This business shall continue for some time before resolution.
"You didn't kill it?"
A stellar mind cannot be killed. We are immortal.
"Then, your objective isn't to destroy it?"
Not at all.
"What then?"
I must gain control for a time, then I must cure him.
The crew of the Space Angel sat in silence for a while, unable to absorb any new wonders.
"Then, you're a psychiatrist?"
That would be the closest human equivalent. I am a healer. The being called the Guardian is faulty, as are all his kind. The problem is still not completely understood. But we believe that a permanent cure is
feasible. One day I shall capture him, and he shall become a stable being once again.
"And what of us?" The skipper's mind was always on business.
You are my last task. As I informed you earlier, I am only a tiny function of Sphere's' mind delegated to deal with you. The Sphere being is still unaware of your existence. But he is nothing if not fust. You have aided him in his task. Therefore, I shall set things right with you before I abandon this disagreeable form and experience and rejoin the great mind of Sphere.
When first encountered, you were collecting the crystal that enshrouded me. You shall return home with your crystal. You have spent some little time at this task, but I think that the artifacts and information you have garnered on this journey to the center of your galaxy shall repay your trouble handsomely.
Most important, you take with you this knowledge. In the center of your galaxy lies a Core Star, a phenomenon composed of the primal matter of the universe. The control of that matter makes all things possible. It shall be eons before your species can learn to utilize the Core Star, but when you do, all possibilities will be open to you. You can even hope to become beings such as myself. I now return you to your place and time, for time means nothing at the Core. Farewell.
They blinked and stared about. One by one, they wordlessly staggered to their feet. Nobody wanted to be first to speak. Suddenly their eyes were drawn to the planet hovering overhead, its blue oceans and white clouds nearly filling the vie.w from the bubble.
"I don't believe it! That's Earth!"
"Ham, get to the bridge!" The skipper snapped out of her daze and became all business once again. "Get on the communicator and ask for instructions."
Ham had disappeared long before the skipper finished her orders. She seemed not to notice. She walked to one of the new terminals and slaved it into the bridge command consoles. A voice came through.
"What ship? This is Earthport Authority. I say again, what ship? You have dropped from hyper into orbit in an unauthorized and unorthodox fashion." The controller was obviously flustered. "Identify yourself immediately or be fired upon."
"This is the freighter Space Angel, Captain Gertrude HaLevy commanding."
There was a brief interlude as the unseen controller consulted his computer.
"Not the Space Angel that filed a spacing plan for Alpha Tau Pi Rho/4 under contract to Minsk Mineral?"
"Of course it's that one!" the skipper barked. "How many ships of that name have a skipper named HaLevy?"
"Have you been forced to turn back for an emergency?"
"Turn back?"
"Unless my readout is incorrect, you have not been away nearly long enough to have reached Alpha Tau and returned." The voice's intonation left no doubt as to what its owner considered the likelihood of a mistake by the computer.
The Skipper held her hand firmly over the mike, "But, we've been gone more than two years, subjective."
"Space Angel!" said the voice, "prepare to be boarded by security forces of Earthport authority."
The party from Earthport Security arrived in a swift, pugnacious-looking little cutter. The crew of the Angel assembled at the lock to greet them. First through the hatch was a gray-haired man in Port Authority uniform, followed by several armed men in police uniforms. Their businesslike advance stopped short when they caught sight of the Vivers. The policemen fumbled at their holsters.
"Easy, men. Those two are part of my crew." The skipper fought hard to suppress a smile.
"A . . . Captain HaLevy?" The gray-haired man obviously was quite nervous. "I'm Major Whipple, Port Authority, and I hold you responsible for the behavior of those .. . those creatures."
"Do not worry, shell-less one," said K'Stin. We shall not harm your men. The sight of them reaching for weapons fills us with mirth. We are amused."
"Hmm, yes, I suppose so. Now, Captain HaLevy, I noticed as we approached that your ship mounts some highly illegal weaponry."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that."
"I dare say. Now—" Suddenly, he caught sight of Homer. "What's this? An alien animal? I fear that it must be held in orbital quarantine, effective immediately. You know the regulations very well. My God! What an ugly creature!"
"Hey, you can't talk that way about old Homer." Kelly was quite angry. He patted the grotesque shell affectionately. "And you can't put him in quarantine like an animal, either."
"And why not, if I may ask?"
"Because, sir, I am a poet, and accustomed to receiving the honors due that profession. I take exception to your remarks."
The inspector jumped several meters, almost into the arms of the policemen. "It talks!" he yawped. "Is it intelligent?"
"That's debatable," Torwald exclaimed. "Depends on how you feel about poets."
"What's the meaning of all this?" Whipple was almost tearing his hair out by the roots.
Ham decided a cooler head was necessary. Palms outstretched placatingly, he approached the distraught Whipple. "Now, now, calm down. You see, it's like this ..."
The last of the visitors were about to depart. For
two weeks, the Space Angel had been in a maximum-security dock in Earthport, her memory banks being examined
by teams of State scientists. The crew had been subjected to endless interrogations until the authorities were satisfied that they had no more information to impart about their singular adventures.
Then the reporters and professors had arrived in endless numbers. Information about the Space Angel's voyage was spreading through human-occupied space, her crew had become instant celebrities.
Kelly had been delegated the job of giving a small group a tour of the ship, showing off such of their souvenirs as had not been impounded by the government. Among the group were a man in uniform with the comets of an admiral and an official from the huge Satsuma Line. The ship's boy felt a bit overwhelmed; not long before, he had been just another anonymous orphan scrounging a living in Earthport, his highest ambition any job on any ship. Now he had important men hanging on his every word, his face would be known wherever humans lived.
As he conducted them from the ship, several took him aside for a few private words.
"Son, have you ever considered a career in the Navy?" The admiral was doing his best to be paternal.
"Sure. But I never could get past the recruiters."
"Something could be arranged. A few months in a special school, and you could be a commissioned officer."
"I'm really not interested in a military career any more, sir." Kelly was slightly embarrassed.
"Decided to stay on in the merchant service, eh?" The Satsuma Line man thought he sensed an opening. "Good choice. We'd be glad to have you in the line. Good pay, regular promotion, regular hours. And, I don't mind telling you, your reputation would move you on up ahead of some other men with a bit more seniority."
Kelly eyed the man's stiff, starched uniform, laden with insignia of rank and accomplishment, and reflected that the line officer probably spent most of his time behind a desk.
"I hear Satsuma's a fine line to work for." Kelly was noncommital.
"Keep us in mind."
Last to disembark was a short, bearded man in frayed spacer's gear. A ratty cap with a tarnished medallion pinned to the front sat jauntily atop his disheveled mass of hair.
"I don't know if you caught my name at the introductions," the bearded man said. "Captain Probert of the Black Comet. I've just bought the ship at an auction, and I'm putting together a crew."
He spoke casually and his relaxed manner immediately put Kelly at ease. "Independent freighter?" asked Kelly.
"What other kind is there?" Probert grinned. "You 'prenticed for the quartermaster this trip out, didn't you?"
"That's right, but, I cross-trained in most of the other ship's duties."
"I can always use a good hand. Pay's not like the Satsuma, we work for shares. Hours are long, but I've already got a good cook. Keep me in mind."
"Thanks. I'll do that."
When Probert had gone, Kelly trudged back to his cabin and stripped off his rented dress uniform. He climbed back into his familiar coverall and boots and looked at himself in the mirror. The outfit, which had sagged when he first put it on, now fit perfectly. The boots, which had once felt so heavy, now felt like old slippers. He grinned selfTdeprecatingly at his reflection and went to join the others. He found most of them around the mess table.
After a few moments, the skipper arrived. She seemed a trifle put out, and signaled for general attention. "Now that we're all here, we can come down off our cloud. We may be interplanetary celebrities, and we've brought back the most valuable treasures this planet's ever seen—not to mention our cargo of diamond crystal—but we're broke."
"Broke?" Kelly asked, "how's that possible?"
"The government can't quite decide what to do with all this unprecedented stuff, so they've just impounded everything, including the crystal, and they're going to sit on it until they think of something. In addition, the assets of Minsk Mineral have been impounded. We can institute lawsuits, and we will probably get everything we are owed, but be prepared for a long wait. Court actions such as this can last years. That means we've got to find another contract if we're to stay in business."
This was his moment. Kelly cleared his throat and spoke. "I'm afraid I won't be with you."
"What do you mean?" It was plain from the skipper's expression that she knew what he was going to say.
"Well, I want you all to know that this ship has been a home to me, and you've been like a family and I never had either before. But you can't stay at home forever. I signed on as ship's boy. You can't hold that position forever. I've outgrown it on this voyage."
The skipper looked to her quartermaster. "Torwald?"
"He has nothing more to learn from me. He could ship as quartermaster in any independent freighter and he pilots an AC like a champ."
"Look, Kelly," Nancy said, "you could sign on for another voyage as my assistant. There's a lot you don't know yet about Commo." To Kelly's astonishment, her look and voice were almost pleading.
"Thanks, Nancy, "but, I've got a chance to strike out on my own, and it's important to me to take it. I can't be carried on somebody's kindness forever."
"You have a ship in mind?" The skipper's voice was brusque. "Not a line vessel, I hope."
"Captain Probert's offered me a berth in the Black Comet. I think I may take it."
"Probert's a good man." The skipper held out her hand. "Give me your bracelet. I'll bring it up to date." She took the bracelet and left the room. As she walked down the companionway, the others could hear her honking into a handkerchief.
Sergei looked up from a sheet of printout he'd been examining. He smiled at Kelly, then said, "Minsk will set up a bank account for the Space Angel, into which we'll pay her share of the crystal's value, whenever it's released. If you like, I'll have a separate account set up for you."
"It'll be a pretty hefty sum," said Torwald, "when and if it arrives. It could be enough for you to buy into a partnership on the Black Comet or some other ship. Not bad for an ex-ship's boy just off his first voyage."
"That'd suit me," said Kelly. The skipper returned a few minutes later and handed back his bracelet. As he clipped it on, Kelly noticed the tiny silver star embossed on it.
"But, this is a Spacer First Class bracelet," he protested. "I should only be eligible for Able Spacer."
"As you pointed out, you only signed on as ship's boy for a routine voyage. It lasted a little longer, and you got some experience that most don't get. Going to the center of the galaxy and diving into a star might be considered above and beyond the call of duty. You've earned the promotion."
Kelly stuffed the last of his belongings into his spacebag. He had accumulated quite a bit—souvenirs from the worlds and alien vessels the Angel had visited, and gifts from his fellows. Lafayette, somewhat shamefaced, had visited Kelly's cabin and handed him a cube of glassite within which was imbedded a tiny sphere—it was the jungle planet, as seen from space. "I used Achmed's holography gear and the ship's computer to make it," Lafayette explained. "Under microscopic projection, the detail is perfect down to the plants and the ruins." Awkwardly, the redhead stuck out his hand. "Thanks for saving my neck. Sorry you ended up having to paint the hold."
The skipper had presented him with a box of cigars and Achmed a prayer rug—"in case you should come around to the true faith." Bert had given him a full set of cargo master's manuals, and K'Stin an efficient-looking sword.
Kelly made the ritual last-minute check around the cabin, the first room he had ever had to himself, ran his hand over the bunk and the shelves, then shrugged. Home was a spacebag now. He had his gear and his trade. What more did a spacer need?
The crew assembled at the hatch to see him off. There were handshakes and hugs all around. Tears in her eyes, Nancy threw her arms around Kelly, kissed him violently, and said she would miss him.
"I wish you'd mentioned something like that before."
"You weren't leaving before," she replied logically.
Homer scuttled up to him. From somewhere within his shell, he produced a recording disk. "This is a crude form of my epic, Cor
e Star, in which you figure prominently. You may not be able to understand it, but rest assured that your immortality is guaranteed."
Torwald handed him a package. "Just a little something I whipped together in the shop." Kelly unwrapped it. It was a perfect model of the Space Angel, accurate down to the empty rocket-mounts. Kelly's fingers closed around it and he turned swiftly so the others couldn't see his face as he stuffed it into his spacebag.
"Maintain eternal vigilance, small squishy thing—"
K'Stin enveloped Kelly's hand in his huge talons— "and kill anything that threatens."
"And remember about the boots, kid," Torwald said. "Fame is a passing thing, but a good pair of boots will see you through some tough situations."
Finally nothing remained to be said. With a wave, Kelly turned and hoisted the bag to his shoulder, then trudged down the ramp. A thin drizzle was falling, and the top-heavy figure blended with the mist, swaying slightly, a man unused to walking in the gravity of old Earth.
"Kid looks like a spacer." Torwald wiped away a tear.
They watched Kelly's receding figure until the skipper broke the spell. "Torwald, go to the terminal and look around. See if you can find us a new ship's boy."
John Maddox Roberts - Space Angel Page 17
