Space Opera (10 page)

When Dame Isabel did remember, she clicked her tongue in annoyance. Considering Captain Gondar’s obvious infatuation she clicked her tongue again, and debated whether or not to make an issue of the situation. Rather reluctantly she decided it was none of her affair, and when she conferred with Captain Gondar regarding the next port of call, Madoc Roswyn was not mentioned. “According to our itinerary,” said Dame Isabel in her most formal voice, “we will next visit the second planet of Phi Orionis. Mr. Bickel tells me that the autochthones are definitely humanoid; is that not right, Bernard?”

Bickel, who had just entered the cabin, replied in the affirmative. “I have not visited the world myself, but I understand that the inhabitants of Zade are not only humanoid in appearance, but also display cultural traits analogous to our own, including art forms based on the modulation of sound. Which is to say: music.”

“Zade then it is,” said Dame Isabel. “I presume, Captain, that our route will not take us too far afield from Rlaru?”

“No,” said Gondar grudgingly. “No difficulty there: Phi Orion is the general direction. But I have a suggestion.”

Dame Isabel cocked her head in polite inquiry. “Yes?”

“I recall mention of a planet in Hydra inhabited by a very musical people. It’s a world which has hardly been visited by man, and I understand that it’s extremely advanced artistically. Just the place for you to take your troupe, or so it seems to me.”

Dame Isabel gave him a sharp glance. Captain Gondar’s tone had rung almost imperceptibly false. “Our present itinerary, according to you, takes us toward Rlaru. Is this not correct?”

“Yes indeed. Absolutely correct.”

Bickel said, “Come to think of it, Gondar, don’t you think it’s time you let us in on the location of Rlaru? After all, we’re neither thugs nor hijackers, and we obviously don’t plan to victimize you in any way.”

Gondar’s long sallow face creased in a slight smile. “Better that I keep my own counsel — for a very good reason.”

“But suppose something happened to you!” exclaimed Bernard Bickel. “Then we’d be unable to find Rlaru, which is our principal goal!”

Captain Gondar shook his head stubbornly.

“I fail to understand your reluctance to trust us,” said Dame Isabel. “You certainly can’t believe that we would attempt to bamboozle you?”

“Of course not, and I’m sorry if I give that impression.”

“Why then are you so unnaturally cautious?”

Captain Gondar reflected a moment. “I’ll be quite frank,” he said. “You put matters on the basis of trust, but your demands for information make it clear that you do not trust me. This arouses in me a counter-distrust. You control a great deal of money which is rightfully mine, and this is leverage you exert upon me. I have information you want and this is my leverage upon you. You are asking me to give up my leverage, to put myself in your power, without making a corresponding concession.”

Dame Isabel gave a puzzled little shake of her head. “What you say might be sensible on Earth — but out here, en route to Rlaru, what do you gain? Both Mr. Bickel and I are persons of honor; I can’t imagine us — for the sake of argument — marooning you, or — to be really melodramatic — causing your death.”

“Stranger things have happened,” said Captain Gondar with his most saturnine smile.

Dame Isabel sniffed. “You are quite impossible, Captain Gondar.”

“If we had criminal designs upon you,” Bernard Bickel argued, “we could achieve them just as easily
after
we left Rlaru,
after
you took us there, as now. In fact, if we were the sort you believe us to be, we would make sure that you had given us accurate directions
before
putting you out of the way.”

Captain Gondar shook his head. “Let’s drop the subject. When the time comes, I hope that you in your turn will give me my money.”

“I suppose we have no choice in the matter,” said Dame Isabel stiffly.

“Now as to the matter of the planet I mentioned — I believe a visit to this planet would be highly rewarding.”

“That well may be. Reverting once more to Rlaru, in what configurational sector does it lie?”

“In Cetus,” said Captain Gondar with poor grace.

“Well then — a visit to this planet in Hydra would take us almost directly away from Rlaru. We would be forced to make a tedious detour. Am I not correct?”

Captain Gondar seemed almost obsequious. “A slight detour perhaps — but a very rewarding one. Indeed, I think it would be a great mistake to avoid the planet; the folk are quite humanoid — almost human, I would say —”

Bernard Bickel frowned. “In Hydra? I don’t recall any such planet in Hydra.”

Dame Isabel asked, “What is the source of your information?”

“An old explorer described it to me,” said Gondar, again with the faintly brassy heartiness which previously had aroused Dame Isabel’s suspicion. “Ever since, I have wanted to visit this planet.”

“You must do so on some other occasion,” said Dame Isabel decisively. “Our current itinerary is already established; we cannot jerk here and there about the galaxy to gratify a single person’s whim. I am sorry, Captain Gondar.”

Gondar turned on his heel, started for the door. Dame Isabel said to his back: “Kindly notify the astrogator that our immediate destination is Zade, the second planet of Phi Orionis.”

When the door had slid shut behind Gondar, Bernard Bickel turned to Dame Isabel, his eyebrows arched, his blue eyes round in puzzlement. “Odd! Why in the name of all the lesser demons is Gondar so anxious to visit this particular world?”

Dame Isabel had already dismissed the matter from her mind. “It makes small difference, since we will not be doing so.”

While Dame Isabel and Bernard Bickel conferred with Captain Gondar, Roger Wool, wandering aimlessly about the ship, passed across the stage in Globe C. The musicians and singers had completed their daily rehearsals, but the stage still retained a memory of their presence: an exhalation of perfume, camphor, rosin, and valve-oil. A single dim light illuminated the stage, and sitting quietly on one of the stage-property chairs was Madoc Roswyn.

She saw Roger without change of expression. Roger slowly approached. He said, “I wish you’d tell me why you acted the way you did — told those terrible stories about me … As if I’d ever force you to do anything against your will …”

She made a flippant gesture. “It seemed a good thing at the time. You must recognize, Roger, that I am fickle and perverse: not at all the girl you thought I was.”

“I can’t escape the feeling that you were using me, but to what end I can’t imagine … Once I thought you were fond of me. If you were, if you still are — for heaven’s sake tell me, and we’ll clear up this terrible misunderstanding.”

“There’s no misunderstanding, Roger.” Madoc Roswyn’s voice was gentle, but absolutely toneless.

Roger looked at her a moment, then shook his head. “How can anyone so beautiful, so sensitive, so clever, be so faithless? I can’t understand!”

“It’s not necessary that you understand, Roger. Now run off and find your aunt. She has an errand for you.”

Roger turned on his heel, departed the stage. Madoc Roswyn watched him go with no expression other than a peculiar pinched look which might have meant one of a dozen things.

Roger, continuing moodily around the ship, encountered his aunt in the corridor outside the saloon, where she had been listening to the complaints of Ada Francini, regarding certain odd sounds.

Dame Isabel’s eye fell on Roger, and indeed there was an errand for him to perform.

“Roger, have you noticed a grating thumping sound in Globe D? It occurs at irregular intervals and seems to come from nowhere in particular.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” said Roger dully.

“Miss Francini tells me that this sound is seriously disturbing the rest of the company. She said something about it to Captain Gondar, but he took very little interest.”

“Somebody snoring?” asked Roger.

“I thought of that too, but Miss Francini says the sound is quite unlike a snore.”

Again Roger stated that he had not noticed this particular sound.

“Well, I want you to find what causes it, and if the source is mechanical, call it to the attention of the Chief Technician.”

Roger agreed to do his best, and slouched off toward Globe D. He knocked at the cubicle which Ephraim Zerner shared with Otto von Scheerup and inquired for particulars regarding the offensive noises.

Both Zerner and von Scheerup supplied information, though they were not in precise agreement. Ephraim Zerner mentioned a reedy whistling sound which occasionally accompanied the throbbing and rasping, while von Scheerup emphasized a “bumping and booming, which together with the rattling and squealing creates a most fearful racket.” The sound occurred unpredictably, at intervals of a day or two, persisting sometimes for two hours or even longer.

Roger made other inquiries among the company. Some were more troubled than others; everyone had his own definition as to the essential quality of the sound, though all agreed as to its painful nature.

Roger walked here and there around Globe D, but the disagreeable sound did not manifest itself. He spoke once more to Ada Francini and asked that she notify him the instant the noise started, whereupon he would make a more careful investigation.

Six hours later the occasion offered itself. Ada Francini sought out Roger, who, as good as his word, returned with her to Globe D. Ada Francini took him to her cabin, raised up her finger. “Listen!”

Roger listened. Distinctly he heard the sound in question. He was forced to admit that no one had described it incorrectly, for it comprised a whole variety of rasping, rattling, booming, bumping, squealing, whining and throbbing noises. The sound seemed to come from the wall, from the air, from everywhere, from nowhere.

He stepped into the corridor and the sound became fainter. Carefully he maneuvered through the cabin and finally ascertained that the basic source of the sound was the air-conditioning duct. Putting his ear to the mesh, he listened for several minutes. Then he rose to his feet, dusted off his knees. “I have a notion as to what is causing the noise,” he told Ada Francini, “but first I’d better check more extensively.”

An hour later Dame Isabel found Roger sitting in the saloon playing solitaire. “Well, Roger?” she demanded. “What have you been doing? Miss Francini tells me that the rattling sound is worse than ever and furthermore she says that you know what causes it.”

“Yes, I did manage to track it down,” said Roger. “It comes from the crew’s mess-hall in Globe E and travels by the air-duct into Globe D.”

“Indeed! And what goes on in the crew’s mess-hall to occasion such a clatter?”

“Well — it seems that certain members of the crew have formed a washboard band.”

“A
what?
”

“A
what?
” inquired Bernard Bickel who had entered the saloon.

Roger explained as well as he could the instrumentation and rationale of the Tough Luck Jug Band, as the group was known in the mess-hall. When in full voice, there might be heard banjo, harmonica, washboard, kazoo, tub-bass, jug, and occasionally a nose-flute.

Dame Isabel sat with an expression of utter disbelief. “But why in the world should the crew want to create this pandemonium? A group of children in high spirits will beat on pots and pans —”

“They play various tunes,” said Roger. “It’s actually rather lively.”

“What nonsense,” said Dame Isabel. “Bernard, have you ever heard the like?”

Bernard Bickel shook his head in disparagement. “Whatever they call the racket, we can’t have it disturbing everybody aboard.”

“Please see to it, Bernard. My word, what will they think of next?”