Stanley Avery
Oltan Kusmeroglu
estrella pancorbo
roster complete
III
The dream had come true. Stanley Avery was actually in an actual Heechee ship, actually following in the footsteps of those immortal Gateway heroes who braved the perils of star travel and came back to wealth unimaginable and fame that would go down through the ages....
"Or," Tan growled, when Stan ventured to say as much to him, "to some very unpleasant death. I do not care for this shit-struck little ship. Why is it armored?"
Across the cabin, Estrella Pancorbo looked up from her task of stowing her possessions. "If this trip is to be bearable at all," she said, "it would be better if you spoke only English when I am present."
Tan's lips compressed. "And, in this closet we are to live in, when will you not be?" he demanded, but Stan spoke quickly.
"She is right," he told Tan. And, to the woman, "We'll try to remember. He was only wondering why our ship is so heavily armored."
"Because it accepts some destinations which would damage a ship that wasn't, of course. Don't be afraid. Such destinations are rare; this particular Three has been Out four times, but not to any such dangerous place. Didn't you familiarize yourself with its specifications? All the data for every working ship was on file,' she said.
The reproof didn't improve Tan's mood. "I'm not afraid, Estrella," he snapped, wounded, and cast about for something hurtful to say in return. He found it. "Why does your face look like that?" he demanded.
She gave him a long stare. Her left eyelid, Stan noticed, hung lower than the other. "Because a bull stepped on it," she said at last, and added, "I think this is going to be a very long cruise."
How long the trip was going to take was a question always in their minds. Estrella's researches had given them some information. "This Three has never gone more than eighteen days in each direction," she informed them. "We have supplies for more than sixty. It shouldn't be more than that. We'll know at the halfway point."
They would. Stan knew that much, as everybody did. Gateway prospectors always kept their eye on that funny-looking drive coil every waking minute, because it held the secret of life or death. When it changed color they were at the halfway point; the gentle micro-G that tugged them toward the stern of the craft would change so that then they would drift gently toward the bow. That was the time for doing arithmetic. If they had by then used up no more than a quarter of their air, water and stores, that meant they had enough to last them for the remainder of their outbound leg and for the return. If they hadn't, they didn't.
The three of them lived, ate and slept in the same tiny space, no bigger than Stan's very small bathroom in Mr. Ozden's tenement. Being so intimately close with a girl of more or less his own age—well, not so much more, anyway, however old she actually was—was a disturbing experience for Stan. They were very intimate. They couldn't help it. When Tan was in the toilet Stan averted his eyes from Estrella's, because the sound of Tan's urination was loud and clear. All three of them had to get used to each other's smells, too, of which there were many. There were not many opportunities for exercise in a Three, and so the diet the Gateway authorities provided for them was high in fiber. Stan tried to break wind inconspicuously; Tan didn't, grinning every time he farted. Estrella paid no attention.
The funny thing was that the more time Stan spent with Estrella's damaged face seldom out of his sight, the less damaged it looked. Tan was affected, too. Once or twice, when Estrella was momentarily more or less out of earshot—in the crapper, or asleep—he muttered something dark and lecherous in Stan's ear. In Turkish, of course. There wasn't any place in the Three that was really out of hearing range except for the lander, tucked in its bay in the bottom of the vessel and not comfortable enough for anyone to stay in it for very long.
Estrella spent most of her time reading from a little pocket screen, but after the third day she allowed herself to be persuaded into a card game with the boys. When Tan had lost his third big pot to her he gave her a suspicious look. "I thought you said you didn't know how to play poker," he growled.
"I didn't. It's a very simple game," she said carelessly, and then realized she had hurt his feelings. She tried to be complimentary. "I meant to tell you that I was surprised at your command of English, Tan. You speak it very well."
He shrugged. "Why should I not? I went to the English-language school from the age of six until I had to leave to go to work, at fourteen." But he was somewhat mollified. More cheerfully, he went on. "It is where I met Stan. We became friends quickly, because we were interested in the same things. Even as small boys, in recess we would run out to the teeter-totter and climb on, bouncing each other up and down and pretending we were on a Gateway ship."
"And no one more surprised than I that we are finally here," Stan added, grinning. "What was your life like, Estrella?"
She picked up the cards and shuffled for a moment without answering. Then she said briefly, "I was a butcher. Whose deal is it now?"
By the seventh day the three of them were having trouble keeping their eyes off the coil. It didn't change. "Well," Estrella said brightly, "it's possible that this Three may be about to set a new record for itself. Still, we have a good margin in supplies, and anyway it will probably change tomorrow."
It didn't, though, not on the eighth day and not on the ninth. On the eleventh day Tan sighed, pushed the cards away and said, "Now we must face the facts. We may go on forever in this flying rathole." Estrella patted his arm. "You give up too easily, Tan." He glowered at her. "What do you know? Such things have happened before! Haven't you heard the story of, I forget his name, the old prospector who only got home because he ate his shipmates?"
"Don't quarrel," Stan begged.
But Estrella's temper was up. "Why did I sign on with two teenage Turkish boys—well, a Turkish boy and a half—who are willing to be cannibals? I suppose you have already decided which of us you will eat first, Tan. Me? Because you are both strong and I am the smallest? Well, let me tell you—"
Her voice trailed off. Her damaged face looked startled, then seraphic. Stan felt it, too, as down in the little ship slipped gently to up and the coil brightened.
It was the halfway point at last. So they were not going to die, after all, or at least not in that particular way.
Since they were to live, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Tan gave Estrella a great smile, and to Stan he muttered, in Turkish, "Perhaps we will eat this one after all, but in a more friendly way."
Estrella heard, and even in the rapture of the moment her expression froze. "Tan," she said, "I do not understand Turkish, but I understand fully the way you look when you speak it. You have pricks sticking out of your eyes, Tan. Save them for someone else. I am a virgin. I have remained so when it was more difficult than it is here, and will go on as a virgin until I marry."
"Hell and devils," Tan groaned. "I thought it was only Muslim girls who kept their knees locked so, not free-spirited Americans."
She chose to be friendly. "So you have learned something new about American women. Now shall we play cards again, or get some sleep?"
IV
For most of a day Tan was glumly quiet, but his good nature came back. After all, they were on their way to a great adventure together. Stan could see him revising his attitude toward Estrella. All right, she was not going to be a lover. A sort of a sister, then, and Tan had long practice at living with a sister.