"I signed on their ship," the stoker said. "Stoking. They've got a
micro-nuclear drive. It's been a while since I worked with one, but I
think I'll make out all right, even with the screwball way they've got
it set up."
"Huh?"
The stoker shrugged. "Ships are ships, and physics is physics, no matter
where you go. I'll make out."
"What kind of a deal did you make with them? What do you think you're up
to?"
The stoker shook his head. "No deal. I signed on as a crewman. I'll do a
crewman's work for a crewman's wages. I thought I'd wander around a
while. It ought to be interesting," he said.
"On a Jek ship."
"Anybody's ship. When I get to their home world, I'll probably ship out
with some people from farther on. Why not? It's honest work."
MacReidie had no answer to that.
"But--" I said.
"What?" He looked at me as if he couldn't understand what might be
bothering me, but I think perhaps he could.
"Nothing," I said, and that was that, except MacReidie was always a
sourer man from that time up to as long as I knew him afterwards. We
took off in the morning. The stoker had already left on the Jek ship,
and it turned out he'd trained an apprentice boy to take his place.
* * * * *
It was strange how things became different for us, little by little
after that. It was never anything you could put your finger on, but the
Jeks began taking more goods, and giving us things we needed when we
told them we wanted them. After a while, _Serenus_ was going a little
deeper into Jek territory, and when she wore out, the two replacements
let us trade with the Lud, too. Then it was the Nosurwey, and other
people beyond them, and things just got better for us, somehow.
We heard about our stoker, occasionally. He shipped with the Lud, and
the Nosurwey, and some people beyond them, getting along, going to all
kinds of places. Pay no attention to the precise red lines you see on
the star maps; nobody knows exactly what path he wandered from people to
people. Nobody could. He just kept signing on with whatever ship was
going deeper into the galaxy, going farther and farther. He messed with
green shipmates and blue ones. One and two and three heads, tails, six
legs--after all, ships are ships and they've all got to have something
to push them along. If a man knows his business, why not? A man can live
on all kinds of food, if he wants to get used to it. And any nontoxic
atmosphere will do, as long as there's enough oxygen in it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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