Earth is Heaven dot-27

by E. C. Tubb

  "What's wrong? What happened?"

  Dumarest ignored the questions, his hands deft as he examined the engineer. The shock had thrown Talion hard against the deck, his head hitting the edge of his console as he'd gone down. Blood oozed from a ragged wound but, beneath it, the bone seemed firm.

  The man was unconscious and in shock-but that would pass. More serious was the concussion he would suffer which would fog his mind and cloud his judgement, and make him useless for the work needing to be done.

  To Belkner Dumarest said, "Have some men take him to his cabin. Is there anyone who could take care of him?"

  "Ava has had experience as a nurse."

  "Good." Dumarest added wryly, "Would you have anyone with experience as an engineer?" A stupid question-what would the Ypsheim know of space? "Forget it. Just get Talion on his feet as soon as possible."

  "We're in trouble, Earl. Right?"

  "You could say that."

  "And you need an engineer." Belkner looked at Talion lying slumped on the deck. "Try Urich Sheiner."

  Sheiner sat in a cabin, perched on the edge of the bunk, eyes somber staring at the floor. He looked a little pale and the fine mesh of lines at eyes and throat seemed deeper than before. A man feeling old, inadequate, a failure, yet too intelligent to waste time in futile anger.

  Dumarest said, "I need your help, Urich. We all need it."

  "Should that bother me?"

  "I said all." Dumarest looked at the bruises on the man's throat, the hands resting on his knees. "That includes Eunice. If we die she dies with us." He saw the twitch of fingers as he mentioned her name. "Eunice," he said again. "The woman you love."

  "And who loves you."

  "So you say." Dumarest moved so as to sit beside the other man. "Would it help if I told you I have no feeling for her?"

  "It's how she feels that is important."

  "True," admitted Dumarest. "But you disappoint me. Once you had guts. The courage to escape from Krantz and make your own way. Now you're letting a child destroy your life. That's what Eunice is," he reminded. "A child. She's attracted to the bright and new and exciting. I saved her life-how else did you expect her to respond?"

  "A child," said Urich bitterly, "who needs a father."

  "Would she be the first? And what does it matter as long as love is present?" Questions Dumarest left hanging as he said, "We were damaged by a missile as we left Krantz. One at the extreme of its range which detonated close enough to collapse our field. The hull is intact and our environment stable-but we are on a collision course with the sun."

  "So?"

  "We need an engineer. Ours is hurt. Belkner told me you could take his place. Can you?"

  "Belkner!" Urich's hands closed into fists. "How does he know so much?"

  "Talk," said Dumarest. "Gossip. Spacers who may have known you. Deduction. Logic. Shrewd guesses. What does it matter? Are you an engineer?"

  "I've worked as one."

  A flat statement and Dumarest recognized the emotion behind it A denial would have robbed Urich of the chance of revenge against those who had robbed him of all he had achieved on Krantz; yet the admission betrayed his need. To be wanted, admired, respected.

  Dumarest said quietly, "I guess it wasn't easy for you to break free. To break with your own people and to cheat, steal, rob, murder-"

  "No!" Urich reared, turning to face him. "There was no killing. The rest, maybe, but how else was I to get away? And if it hadn't been for a drunken spacer I wouldn't have made it. He'd won at the tables and was loaded. A temptation and-" He shrugged. "A chance and I took it."

  "And later, when you'd reached another world, there were more chances, right? How else to get by when you've nothing going for you? And the first time is the hardest. The next mark comes easier and the one after easier still. Soon it becomes a way of life. What made you give it up?"

  "Three years in a Rhodian jail." Urich was blunt. "It taught me a lot of things, among them that I wasn't cut out to be a criminal or an adventurer. So I settled down to work, lived rough; saved like a miser and bought some education. I was bright and lucky and managed to get established as a trainee engineer on the Chronos Line. Ten years of eating dirt but I worked my indenture and paid all charges and was free to go where I wanted. The galaxy to rove in-and I wound up back on Krantz."

  "Home."

  "Home?" Urich's laugh was bitter. "I'd forgotten what it was like. What the Ypsheim are like. Dreamers content to live as slaves for, while there is life, there is hope. Live today for tomorrow may come the millennium. Tomorrow… tomorrow… always tomorrow-but tomorrow never comes."

  "So you sold your skills to the Quelen." Dumarest nodded then added, "But not all the Ypsheim are as you say. Some of them do more than dream."

  "Like Belkner and his women and all the rest of them on board. Thieves! They robbed me of-"

  "Why not?" Dumarest was harsh. "Did you think of the spacer when you went after his cash? Care what happened to him? The others you robbed? Do you give a damn for the animals killed so you can eat meat? The slaughter? The stink? The blood and pain? What makes you so special?"

  Urich said, "You've made your point. If I repair the ship will you take Eunice and me back to Krantz?"

  "To the Wheel? To the whip and public execution? You know what will happen if we go back. The Quelen will make an example of us so as to keep others in line. You too- they'll never believe you weren't in on it from the beginning."

  "You'd make sure of that." Urich frowned then said, "Where are you bound for?"

  "Would you believe me if I told you we were heading for Earth?"

  "Earth?" Urich's hand rose to touch his forehead, the scar no longer visible but which would stay with him all his life. "You're bound for Earth?" He rose from the bunk, smiling. "Then we'd better get to those engines."

  Batrun leaned back in his chair, relaxed, eyes casual as he checked the panels, the screens. All was as it should be and he reached for his snuff, lifting a pinch from the box, closing the lid before sniffing the fragrant powder. It enhanced his feeling of well-being, of warm, snug security. And it was good to be in command of a real ship again. A ship with enough officers to do the job, with a cargo in the hold and passengers in the cabins, no longer crippled and diving toward a sun.

  Urich Sheiner had seen to that. A good man and a damned good engineer.

  There was a light and a voice from the intercom as Batrun hit a button. Talion from the engine room.

  "Routine report, Captain. All systems functioning in the green. Drive operating at five per cent below max. No fluctuation. Automatics engaged. Orders?"

  "Maintain status. How's the head?"

  "Fine aside from a slight ache. Usual watches?"

  "Yes, but watch that head. If it gets worse report to Earl."

  Dumarest, not Ava who had acted the nurse. And Urich was a passenger not a spare engineer as Talion could have feared. On any ship the crew remained a group apart; if help was wanted from others it was on a temporary basis only.

  Bartun took more snuff and looked again at the screens. Empty now but for the stars and the familiar pattern of the universe. Worlds and suns past which they hurtled with a wanton disregard for the economic use of fuel. To get where they were going and to get there fast-a necessity imposed by their freight and by Dumarest who wanted no stops.

  He moved through the ship on a routine inspection, pausing to open doors, to scan the interiors of cabins. All not reserved for the crew were filled with Ypsheim. More were in the salon and part of the hold. All riding High; drugged with quick-time, their metabolism slowed so as to turn normal hours into fleeting minutes. To Dumarest they looked like frozen statues.

  As did Urich and Eunice.

  He sat beside the bunk on which she lay, one of her hands in his own, his head lowered over her face. The prelude to a kiss, perhaps, or the aftermath of one. A position adopted for intimate conversation, but if they talked Dumarest heard nothing. Any sounds they made were too deep an
d slow to register as his movements and those of the door were too fast for them to see.

  As he turned from the cabin Belkner came toward him, Ava Vasudiva at his side. Both were on normal time so as to help the others. Both had the look of lovers-and something else.

  "Earl!" Belkner was smiling. "I want to ask something of you. A favor. Will you grant it?"

  "If I can." Dumarest looked from one to the other. "What is it?"

  "We want to get married." Ava hugged Belkner's arm. "As quickly as we can. Could you arrange it? Please!"

  Happiness had made her radiant, flushing her cheeks and heightening her color so as to make livid the cruciform scar, enhanced now by the blue paint which filled the quadrants to create a disc quartered by a cross. Belkner's scar had been treated the same way.

  "Married?" Dumarest's smile matched her own. "Of course you can be married. The captain will be happy to conduct the ceremony."

  "And you'll stand at my side?" Belkner added, "It's our custom-someone strong who will give protection." A leftover from the days when such protection was needed. "Will you?"

  "And witnesses?" said Ava as Dumarest nodded. "Can we have witnesses?"

  "Two only." Dumarest's tone brooked no argument. "You can take their place after the wedding." With a smile he added, "For you this should be a short journey."

  The ceremony was a quick affair. Afterward, lying on the wide bed in their cabin, Ysanne, who had stood beside Ava, said, with a touch of regret, "I envy them, Earl. Did you see their faces? Like children on a picnic. As if they had been shown a treasure-house and told to help themselves."

  He nodded, not answering. Beside him he could feel the warmth of her body as she came closer toward him but he remained supine, staring at the ceiling.

  "Earl?" Her hand touched his naked torso, her fingers tracing the pattern of his scars. "Why can't people always feel like that? Alive and happy and full of concern for each other? Why must life always become so damned complicated?" Her fingers paused in their questing. "Earl?"

  "I'm not asleep."

  "Thinking of the wedding? Well she has her certificate and had her witnesses even though she wanted more. Two were enough but you could have let a score attend with no danger of losing the ship." She had guessed why he'd limited the number. "No guts," she said. "That's why they get pushed around."

  "Like cattle." Ysanne moved closer. The watch-schedule left them little private time together and the ceremony had stimulated her emotions. "Why take them with us? I could find a world where they would make us a profit." She found his hand and moved it so he could feel the febrile heat of her flesh. "Dump and run, Earl. Why not?"

  "No."

  "Then-" She chuckled at the obvious explanation. "Workers," she said. "You want them to haul and carry once we reach Earth. To load the hold with all the treasure that's waiting. They'd be good at that. You could even dress and arm them so as to look like guards. A threat if anyone wanted to stop us. They wouldn't be any good but the opposition wouldn't know that." She moved his hand to another place. "We could even trade-Ava has a certain appeal. I know places where she'd fetch a high price." Her voice changed a little, took on an edge. "If she was for sale, Earl, would you buy her?"

  "No."

  "You think she's plain?"

  "I think she has pride. The man who bought her would get a corpse for his money."

  "Pride? The bitch would kill herself rather than survive- and you call it pride?" Ysanne reared up beside him. "Are you thinking of her, Earl? Lying there wishing you were her husband. That she was beside you instead of me? Is that it?" Her voice rose even higher. "Damn you, Earl-look at me!"

  He said, "Not when you're jealous."

  "What?"

  "You look ugly when you're jealous. As if you could kill someone."

  "Killing that bitch would be easy. You too if I caught you together. You think I couldn't?"

  She would try, of that he was certain; then as he watched, her face changed, anger vanishing, replaced by a soft yearning.

  "You don't want her, do you, Earl? Tell me you don't want her."

  "I don't want her," he said then added, as his arms closed around her, "You're woman enough for me."

  "For always, Earl?"

  "For always."

  That was the answer she wanted to hear and she pressed close against him, yielding to the demands of her body, the need. One matched by his own and the jealousy she had felt vanished in the practice of an ancient rite. But later, when she lay asleep at his side, face lax in satiation, Dumarest looked again at the ceiling.

  Seeing the face of Ava Vasudiva, her mouth, her eyes, the proud tilt of her head. The face became a blur dominated by the pattern on her forehead. A circle quartered by a cross- the symbol of Earth.

  Chapter Nine

  Ulls Farnham was small, dark, a man with restless eyes. He sat facing Urich, a chessboard between them, his hand hovering over a piece. Before touching it he said, "A wager, my friend. Fifty hours of labor given by the loser to the one who wins."

  A gamble and not the first he had made. This one dealt with a new currency and betrayed a shrewd anticipation of what might lie ahead. A man, commanding the labor of others, would have a head start in founding a fortune.

  "Well?" Farnham was impatient. "Is it a deal?"

  Urich Sheiner said nothing, studying the board. The position of his opponent was strong but not as strong as the man obviously thought. The fruit of his own careless attitude toward the game which he played more to kill time than for the joy of stylized warfare.

  "Fifty hours?"

  "More if you like."

  Urich watched the hovering hand and said, easily, "Make it a hundred. And if I lose I'll teach you how to make knives."

  "From metal?"

  "From stone." Urich saw the tension of the knuckles and smiled. "From flint-there is a certain knack in forming an edge but, once done, you have something sharper than steel."

  He added, casually, "And far cheaper. Your move, I think."

  He would win in a dozen but before half had been played he felt the sudden giddiness of altering metabolism and watched the movement of Farnham's hand freeze into sudden immobility.

  Rising he looked at Dumarest, at the hypogun in his hand which had blasted neutralizing drugs through skin and fat into his bloodstream. Around them, in the salon, others of the Ypsheim sat or stood like statues.

  Urich said, "More trouble? The engine-"

  "No." Dumarest was brusque. "There are things I need to know."

  "And so you came to me." Urich stretched, enjoying the moment, conscious of his position. "What took you so long?" Then, as Dumarest made no answer, he said, "Do you want to talk here or somewhere else?"

  "My cabin," said Dumarest. "We'll talk in my cabin."

  The cabin held the lingering trace of femininity, of perfume, of cosmetics, of the indefinable presence of a woman. Ysanne, now absent, was probably busy at her duties or conducting her own examination of the vessel. Urich sat as Dumarest poured them both wine. A gesture of hospitality which he did not mistake for friendship, but it set the mood and he had no reason to reject it.

  "Your health!" Urich sipped the wine as he studied Dumarest over the rim of the glass. The face was harder, the lines more pronounced, the eyes more somber than he remembered. A long, hard journey attended by constant strain-the marks were unmistakable. "There is a story heard once," he said. "About a man who caught a tiger by the tail."

  "So?"

  "It seems appropriate." Urich took another sip of his wine. "Your crew is small; yourself, a woman, one old man, an engineer newly joined. You are carrying one hundred and seventeen of the Ypsheim-I do not include myself."

  "Make your point."

  "I should have thought it obvious. Should there be trouble you would stand little chance."

  "There will be no trouble."

  "Not while you are in space," agreed Urich. "But after you land? What then?"

  "Nothing. Our contract will have
been completed. They leave the ship and we move on."

  "If you are able." Urich paused then said, abruptly, "I will be frank. I want to leave with you, together with Eunice, naturally. The two of us taken to another world. In return I will offer you my full support in any action you may choose to take. It is a matter of survival, you understand. Alone with the Ypsheim my life would be measured in days. Agree and-" He sighed his relief as Dumarest nodded. "Then be warned. The man I was playing chess with is building a store of promised labor. He was also most interested when I offered to show him how to make knives from flint. He is not unique. Others have been discussing the future and making plans. Some have realized the advantage of holding the ship. Echoes," he explained. "Whispers-these unaccustomed to space have no idea how sound can travel in a vessel. As I said, Earl-you are holding a tiger by the tail."

  "The Ypsheim? Didn't you once call them cattle? Gutless cowards?"

  "On Krantz they were all of that, but now they're free of the Quelen."

  "And plotting rebellion?"

  "You're thinking of habit," said Urich. "Of the centuries of obedience which must have instilled a reluctance to act against authority. Relying on it, perhaps, to give you time to get away. Normally you would be justified, but there is something you have yet to learn." He paused to empty his glass then said, quietly, "Did you tell any of them where we are headed?"

  "No." Dumarest added dryly, "As you remember we had little time for discussion."

  "And you had your own plans. Your own need to escape." Urich set down the glass. "Why do you think I agreed to repair your engine?"

  "Tell me."

  "You said you were bound for Earth. For Earth!" Urich smiled but the grimace held no humor and turned into a snarl. "Justice," he said. "Or revenge-the taste is as sweet. They'd robbed me of all I'd striven for on Krantz. In return I helped you take them to the last place any of them want to reach!"

  Ysanne had left a beaded garment on the floor; a thing of leather slashed and ornamented, touched with daubs of brilliance, laced with writhing strands. A tunic which rose beneath the impact of Dumarest's boot to land against a far bulkhead. An unconscious venting of anger; he hadn't noticed the garment until it had interrupted his stride. Now he turned and paced back to where Urich sat.