“This is Mel Fury,” I said. “She lived on Paddy’s Fortune—not on it, but inside it.”
I assumed that Doctor Eileen would want to hear more about how anyone could live inside a worldlet, and I was ready to explain; but her worries were elsewhere.
“You brought her here to the Cuchulain, knowing what the crew is like? You’re crazy. This long out of port, they’re sex-starved to the last man. If somebody else on this ship ever finds out—”
“Somebody else already found out.” The matter-of-fact voice from the doorway jerked us around to face that way. It was Danny Shaker. He came inside, closed the door, and carefully locked it. “Fortunately, that somebody is me—no thanks to you, Jay, leaving an unlocked door.”
“The crew—”
“I know. You think they’re all working below on the drive. And you happen to be right. But thinking and knowing are two different things.”
He moved across to Joe Munroe and gave the body a brief inspection. “Your work?” he said to me.
I nodded. “I had to—”
“Save the explanation,” Shaker turned to Doctor Eileen. “And you know about her, too. Well, this changes everything.” He wandered over to one of the swivel chairs, sat down in it, and drummed the fingers of his right hand on the solid arm.
“This girl is in danger,” Doctor Eileen said flatly. “Great danger.”
“More than you realize.” Shaker was staring absently at the control board, where lights winked their warnings about deteriorating drive condition. “And so are you, Doctor. My ability to control the crew grows less every time the engines lose another percent of power. My men regard this trip more and more as a disaster, and what happened here won’t help at all.” Shaker sighed. “All right, it’s time for a change of plans. Joe’s death will cause all sorts of uproar. These quarters will be at the center of it. She”—he jerked a thumb at Mel, without ever looking at her—“can’t stay here any longer.”
“Could she go back where she came from?” asked Doctor Eileen. “To Paddy’s Fortune?”
“How?”
“The cargo beetles—they’re suitable for free-space travel.”
“Sure—up to a hundred thousand kilometers, maximum. We’ve been going slow enough to annoy everybody, but we’re still a thousand times that far from Paddy’s Fortune.” Shaker turned at last from his inspection of the control board. “I see only one way to do this, Doctor. Mel Fury goes with you, and stays out of sight. That shouldn’t be too hard. You’re up on the highest level, and I can keep the men clear of it. But Jay will have to stay here and face a crew hearing.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. Nor apparently did Eileen Xavier, because she and I started to talk at once.
Shaker cut us off with a wave of his hand. “Doctor Xavier, I can and will discuss the logic of this with you further. But not here, and not now. If you want your guest to be as safe as possible”—he nodded at Mel. Your guest! But Doctor Eileen didn’t react—“then you have to get out of here at once. The drive overhaul isn’t going to take forever. The crew will be back.” He stood up. “Mel Fury, collect whatever you need. I want you out of here in one minute.”
Mel gave him a startled look, but she didn’t haggle and hassle him endlessly, the way she did me. She flew through to the inner room and appeared half a minute later carrying her little backpack.
“The navaid, Jay,” she said. “I’ve been finding some interesting things, new areas for analysis and calculation—”
“Keep it.” The way I was feeling, I couldn’t add two and two. “Better still, you ought to show it to Jim Swift. He’ll—”
“No time for talk.” Danny Shaker interrupted me. “If she doesn’t get out of here at once, she’ll be showing it to Robbie Doonan and Connor Bryan—and a lot of other things, too, if they see her.”
“Doctor James Swift,” I called after them, as Mel and Doctor Eileen made a dash for the door. “He’ll be able to tell you everything that we’ve learned from the old records.”
“Which, when you get down to it, are useless.” Shaker did not bother to close the door after them. “Theories are fine, but we’ve learned more on this one trip than the whole of Erin found out in two hundred years. Come on. There’s one thing more we have to do before anyone else gets here.”
He went over and made another and closer examination of Joe Munroe’s body. “Just as I feared. The gun, Jay. Where is it? I assume you’re arguing self-defense.”
I moved across and handed the weapon to him. “It really wasn’t. I was stopping him doing it to Mel. Joe Munroe knew she was a girl. He was going to…”
“I’m sure he was. But the crew’s not to know about that, and your problem is that these wounds are in his back. Oh, well. This can’t do Joe any harm. Stand clear.”
He thumbed off the gun’s safety catch and set it for multiple clips. While I watched, he pumped forty to fifty shots into Joe Munroe’s chest and side. The lifeless body shook and twitched as though it was filled with dreadful new life. It slowly turned under the impact.
Shaker paused, waited, and fired one more clip. He examined the result like an artist studying his creation. “That’s a lot better,” he said. “Know why I did that, Jay? Because of what you’ll have to say to the others. You had to defend yourself, see, and you had the gun on full automatic. He started coming straight for you, and he was facing you, but the force of the shots turned him away as you fired. So the last clip went into his side and back. Understand?”
He stared at me. “What’s the problem? Squeamish?”
“No.” Yes—but I wouldn’t admit it to Danny Shaker. “I’m wondering why you’re not furious with me. I mean, you were short-handed already because of Sean Wilgus, and now I’ve killed another crewman.”
“I hate to lose any member of the crew. But Joe was certainly asking for it. He left the drive area without permission, and came hunting around up here for whatever he could find. You may even have done me a favor. There’s a point where any asset can become a liability, and the hardest part, if you’re a hold-on-to-things sort of person—and I’m that, if I’m anything, it’s either my strength or my weakness—anyway, the hardest part is to know you’ve got something more trouble than it’s worth, and let go. Maybe I was at that point with Joe. I’m not surprised he did something wild—he had been out looking for trouble all this trip.” Shaker came across, handed me Walter Hamilton’s gun, and slapped me on the shoulder. “What I am surprised by, Jay, is you. I told you when I gave you that gun, I wasn’t sure you’d find it in you to use it. I was wrong.”
He studied me for a few more seconds, while I stood there uncomfortable. And then, oddly enough, he came out with just about the same words that Duncan West had used in the corridor. “You’re changing, Jay, and changing fast. You don’t look like the lad who came aboard on Erin—and you don’t sound like him, either. You’re living like a man now.”
And maybe dying like one, I thought, already imagining the sound of boots outside. I was going to be subjected to a crew hearing for killing Joe Munroe. The more I thought about it, the more a “hearing” sounded like a trial. Knowing what I did about this crew—and what they knew about me—I couldn’t imagine any penalty but death for a guilty verdict.
Danny Shaker made the rules clear to me before he went back to see how work was going on the drive.
“This is a crew matter,” he said. “When one crew member offends another—and to a spacer, death is just another offense—the matter is settled by a crew hearing. You are crew now, we took you on.”