"But ..." Max grinned in spite of himself. It was impossible to stay angry at Sam. Sure, the man was a scamp, probably a deserter, certainly a belittler who always looked at things in the meanest of terms, but-- well, there it was. Sam was his friend.
"I knew you were joking. How could I be figuring on getting married when you and I are going to ..."
"Keep your voice down." Sam went on quietly, "You've made up your mind?"
"Yes. It's the only way out, I guess. I don't want to go back to Earth."
"Good boy! You'll never regret it." Sam looked thoughtful. "We'll need money."
"Well, I'll have some on the books."
"Don't be silly. You try to draw more than spending money and they'll never let you set foot on dirt. But don't worry--save your tips, all that Fats will let you keep, and I'll get us a stake. It's my turn."
"How?"
"Lots of ways. You can forget it."
"Well ... all right. Say, Sam, just what did you mean when you--I mean, well, suppose I did want to marry Ellie--I don't of course; she's just a kid and anyhow I'm not the type to marry--but just supposing? Why should anybody care?"
Sam looked surprised. "You don't know?"
"Why would I be asking?"
"You don't know who she is?"
"Huh? Her name's Eldreth Coburn and she's on her way home to Hespera, she's a colonial. What of it?"
"You poor boy! She didn't mention that she is the only daughter of His Supreme Excellency, General Sir John FitzGerald Coburn, O.B.E., K.B., O.S.U., and probably X.Y.Z., Imperial Ambassador to Hespera and Resident Commissioner Plenipotentiary?"
"_Huh?_ Oh my gosh!"
"Catch on, kid? With the merest trifle of finesse you can be a remittance man, at least. Name your own planet, just as long as it isn't Hespera."
"Oh, go boil your head! She's a nice kid anyhow."
Sam snickered. "She sure is. As grandpop used to say, 'It's an ill wind that gathers no moss.'"
The knowledge disturbed Max. He had realized that Eldreth must be well to do--she was a passenger, wasn't she? But he had no awe of wealth. Achievement as exemplified by his uncle held much more respect in his eyes. But the notion that Eldreth came from such an impossibly high stratum--and that he, Maximilian Jones, was considered a fortune-hunter and social climber on that account--was quite upsetting.
He decided to put an end to it. He started by letting his work pile up so that he could say truthfully that he did not have time to play three-dee chess. So Ellie pitched in and helped him. While he was playing the unavoidable game that followed he attempted a direct approach. "See here, Ellie, I don't think you ought to stay down here and play three-dee chess with me. The other passengers come down to see their pets and they notice. They'll gossip."
"Pooh!"
"I mean it. Oh, you and I know it's all right, but it doesn't look right."
She stuck out her lower lip. "Am I going to have trouble with you? You talk just like Miss Mimsey."
"You can come down to see Chipsie, but you'd better come down with one of the other pet owners."
She started to make a sharp answer, then shrugged, "Okay, this isn't the most comfortable place anyhow. From now on we play in Bifrost Lounge, afternoons when your work is done and evenings."
Max protested that Mr. Giordano would not let him; she answered quickly, "Don't worry about your boss. I can twist him around my little finger." She illustrated by gesture.
The picture of the gross Mr. Gee in such a position slowed up Max's answer, but he finally managed to get out, "Ellie, crew members can't use the passenger lounge. It's ..."
"They can so. More than once, I've seen Mr. Dumont having a cup of coffee there with Captain Blaine."
"You don't understand. Mr. Dumont is almost an officer, and if the Captain wants him as his guest, well, that's the Captain's privilege."
"You'd be my guest."
"No, I wouldn't be." He tried to explain to her the strict regulation that crew members were not to associate with passengers. "The Captain would be angry if he could see us right now--not at you, at me. If he caught me in the passengers' lounge he'd kick me all the way clown to 'H' deck."
"I don't believe it."
"But ..." He shrugged. "All right. I'll come up this evening. He won't kick me, actually; that would be beneath him. He'll just send Mr. Dumont over to tell me to leave, then he'll send for me in the morning. I don't mind being fined a month's pay if that is what it takes to show you the way things are."
He could see that he had finally reached her. "Why, I think that's perfectly rotten! Everybody is equal. Everybody! That's the law."
"They are? Only from on top."
She got up suddenly and left. Max again had to soothe Mr. Chips, but there was no one to soothe him. He decided that the day that he and Sam disappeared over a horizon and lost themselves could not come too soon.
Eldreth returned next day but in company with a Mrs. Mendoza, the devoted owner of a chow who looked much like her. Eldreth treated Max with the impersonal politeness of a lady "being nice" to servants, except for a brief moment when Mrs. Mendoza was out of earshot.
"Max?"
"Yes, Miss?"
"I'll 'Yes, Miss' you! Look, Max, what was your uncle's name? Was it _Chester_ Jones?"
"Why, yes, it was. But why ..."
"Never mind." Mrs. Mendoza rejoined them. Max was forced to drop it.
The following morning the dry-stores keeper sought him out. "Hey, Max! The Belly wants you. Better hurry--I think you're in some sort of a jam."
Max worried as he hurried. He couldn't think of anything he had done lately; he tried to suppress the horrid fear that Ellie was involved.
It was clear that Mr. Giordano was not pleased but all that he said was, "Report to the Purser's Office. Jump." Max jumped.
The Purser was not there; Mr. Kuiper received him and looked him over with a cold eye. "Put on a clean uniform and make it quick. Then report to the Captain's cabin."
Max stood still and gulped. Mr. Kuiper barked, "Well? Move!"
"Sir," Max blurted, "I don't know where the Captain's cabin is."
"What? I'll be switched! Able deck, radius nine oh and outboard." Max moved.
The Captain was in his cabin. With him was Mr. Samuels the Purser, Mr. Walther the First Officer, and Dr. Hendrix the Astrogator. Max concluded that whatever it was he was about to be tried for, it could be nothing trivial. But he remembered to say, "Steward's Mate Third Class Jones reporting, sir."
Captain Blaine looked up. "Oh, yes. Find a chair." Max found one, sat down on the edge of it. The Captain said to the First Officer, "Under the circumstances, Dutch, I suppose it's the best thing to do-- though it seems a little drastic. You agree, Hal?"
The Purser agreed. Max wondered just how drastic it was and whether he would live through it.
"We'll log it as an exception, then, Doc, and I'll write up an explanation for the board. After all, regulations were made to be broken. That's the end of it." Max decided that they were simply going to space him and explain it later.
The Captain turned back to his desk in a manner that signified that the meeting was over. The First Officer cleared his throat. "Captain ..." He indicated Max with his eyes.
Captain Blaine looked up again. "Oh, yes! Young man, your name is Jones?"
"Yessir."
"I've been looking over your record. I see that you once tried out for chartsman for a short time in the _Thule?_"
"Uh, yes, Captain."
"Didn't you like it?"
"Well, sir." Max asked himself what Sam would say when confronted by such a ghost. "It was like this ... to tell you the truth I didn't do much except empty ash trays in the Worry--in the control room." He held his breath.
The Captain smiled briefly. "It can sometimes work out that way. Would you be interested in trying it again?"
"What? Yes, _sir!_"
"Dutch?"
"Captain, ordinarily I see no point in a man striking twice for the same job. But there is this personal matter."