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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22967-h.zip b/22967-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..471cd6f --- /dev/null +++ b/22967-h.zip diff --git a/22967-h/22967-h.htm b/22967-h/22967-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c6bc7d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/22967-h/22967-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1311 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Stoker and the Stars, by John A. Sentry + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1 {text-align: right; margin-right: 1em; clear: both;} + + h2 {text-align: right; margin-right: 4em; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin: 2em auto; clear: both;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: + 0; margin-right: .5em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + .figleft img {border: solid 1px;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .trans1 {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + + img {border: none} + + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + + .illo {clear: both; margin-bottom: 3em; font-size: smaller; font-weight: bold; text-align: left;} + .tease {float: right; width: 18em; margin-top: 1em; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;} + .theend {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 2em;} + .firstp {text-indent: -0.3em;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Stoker and the Stars, by +Algirdas Jonas Budrys (AKA John A. Sentry) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Stoker and the Stars + +Author: Algirdas Jonas Budrys (AKA John A. Sentry) + +Illustrator: van Dongen + +Release Date: October 12, 2007 [EBook #22967] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOKER AND THE STARS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Stephen Blundell +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 574px;"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="574" height="550" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1>THE STOKER<br /> +AND THE STARS</h1> + +<h2>BY JOHN A. SENTRY</h2> + +<div class="tease"><big>When</big> you've had your ears pinned +back in a bowknot, it's sometimes hard +to remember that an intelligent people +has no respect for a whipped enemy +... but does for a fairly beaten enemy.</div> + +<p class="illo">Illustrated by van Dongen</p> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45px;"> +<img src="images/002.png" width="45" height="45" alt="K" title="K" /> +</div><p class="firstp"><span class="dcap">now</span> him? Yes, I know +him—<i>knew</i> him. That +was twenty years ago.</p> + +<p>Everybody knows +him now. Everybody +who passed him on the street knows +him. Everybody who went to the same +schools, or even to different schools +in different towns, knows him now. +Ask them. But I knew him. I lived +three feet away from him for a month +and a half. I shipped with him and +called him by his first name.</p> + +<p>What was he like? What was he +thinking, sitting on the edge of his +bunk with his jaw in his palm and +his eyes on the stars? What did he +think he was after?</p> + +<p>Well ... Well, I think he— You +know, I think I never did know him, +after all. Not well. Not as well as +some of those people who're writing +the books about him seem to.</p> + +<p>I couldn't really describe him to +you. He had a duffelbag in his hand +and a packed airsuit on his back. The +skin of his face had been dried out +by ship's air, burned by ultraviolet +and broiled by infra red. The pupils +of his eyes had little cloudy specks in +them where the cosmic rays had shot +through them. But his eyes were +steady and his body was hard. What +did he look like? He looked like a +man.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was after the war, and we were +beaten. There used to be a school of +thought among us that deplored our +combativeness; before we had ever +met any people from off Earth, even, +you could hear people saying we +were toughest, cruelest life-form in +the Universe, unfit to mingle with +the gentler wiser races in the stars, +and a sure bet to steal their galaxy +and corrupt it forever. Where +these people got their information, I +don't know.</p> + +<p>We were beaten. We moved out +beyond Centaurus, and Sirius, and +then we met the Jeks, the Nosurwey, +the Lud. We tried Terrestrial know-how, +we tried Production Miracles, +we tried patriotism, we tried damning +the torpedoes and full speed +ahead ... and we were smashed back +like mayflies in the wind. We died in +droves, and we retreated from the +guttering fires of a dozen planets, we +dug in, we fought through the last +ditch, and we were dying on Earth +itself before Baker mutinied, shot +Cope, and surrendered the remainder +of the human race to the wiser, gentler +races in the stars. That way, we +lived. That way, we were permitted +to carry on our little concerns, and +mind our manners. The Jeks and the +Lud and the Nosurwey returned to +their own affairs, and we knew they +would leave us alone so long as we +didn't bother them.</p> + +<p>We liked it that way. Understand +me—we didn't accept it, we didn't +knuckle under with waiting murder +in our hearts—we <i>liked</i> it. We were +grateful just to be left alone again. +We were happy we hadn't been +wiped out like the upstarts the rest +of the Universe thought us to be. +When they let us keep our own solar +system and carry on a trickle of trade +with the outside, we accepted it for +the fantastically generous gift it was. +Too many of our best men were dead +for us to have any remaining claim +on these things in our own right. I +know how it was. I was there, twenty +years ago. I was a little, pudgy +man with short breath and a high-pitched +voice. I was a typical Earthman.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We were out on a God-forsaken +landing field on Mars, MacReidie +and I, loading cargo aboard the +<i>Serenus</i>. MacReidie was First Officer. +I was Second. The stranger came +walking up to us.</p> + +<p>"Got a job?" he asked, looking at +MacReidie.</p> + +<p>Mac looked him over. He saw the +same things I'd seen. He shook his +head. "Not for you. The only thing +we're short on is stokers."</p> + +<p>You wouldn't know. There's no +such thing as a stoker any more, with +automatic ships. But the stranger +knew what Mac meant.</p> + +<p><i>Serenus</i> had what they called an +electronic drive. She had to run with +an evacuated engine room. The leaking +electricity would have broken any +stray air down to ozone, which eats +metal and rots lungs. So the engine +room had the air pumped out of her, +and the stokers who tended the dials +and set the cathode attitudes had to +wear suits, smelling themselves for +twelve hours at a time and standing +a good chance of cooking where they +sat when the drive arced. <i>Serenus</i> was +an ugly old tub. At that, we were the +better of the two interstellar freighters +the human race had left.</p> + +<p>"You're bound over the border, +aren't you?"</p> + +<p>MacReidie nodded. "That's right. +But—"</p> + +<p>"I'll stoke."</p> + +<p>MacReidie looked over toward me +and frowned. I shrugged my shoulders +helplessly. I was a little afraid +of the stranger, too.</p> + +<p>The trouble was the look of him. +It was the look you saw in the bars +back on Earth, where the veterans of +the war sat and stared down into +their glasses, waiting for night to +fall so they could go out into the +alleys and have drunken fights among +themselves. But he had brought that +look to Mars, to the landing field, +and out here there was something +disquieting about it.</p> + +<p>He'd caught Mac's look and turned +his head to me. "I'll stoke," he repeated.</p> + +<p>I didn't know what to say. MacReidie +and I—almost all of the men +in the Merchant Marine—hadn't +served in the combat arms. We had +freighted supplies, and we had seen +ships dying on the runs—we'd had +our own brushes with commerce raiders, +and we'd known enough men +who joined the combat forces. But +very few of the men came back, and +the war this man had fought hadn't +been the same as ours. He'd commanded +a fighting ship, somewhere, +and come to grips with things we +simply didn't know about. The mark +was on him, but not on us. I couldn't +meet his eyes. "O.K. by me," I mumbled +at last.</p> + +<p>I saw MacReidie's mouth turn +down at the corners. But he couldn't +gainsay the man any more than I +could. MacReidie wasn't a mumbling +man, so he said angrily: "O.K., +bucko, you'll stoke. Go and sign on."</p> + +<p>"Thanks." The stranger walked +quietly away. He wrapped a hand +around the cable on a cargo hook and +rode into the hold on top of some +freight. Mac spat on the ground and +went back to supervising his end of +the loading. I was busy with mine, +and it wasn't until we'd gotten the +<i>Serenus</i> loaded and buttoned up that +Mac and I even spoke to each other +again. Then we talked about the trip. +We didn't talk about the stranger.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Daniels, the Third, had signed him +on and had moved him into the empty +bunk above mine. We slept all in +a bunch on the <i>Serenus</i>—officers and +crew. Even so, we had to sleep in +shifts, with the ship's designers giving +ninety per cent of her space to +cargo, and eight per cent to power +and control. That left very little for +the people, who were crammed in +any way they could be. I said empty +bunk. What I meant was, empty during +my sleep shift. That meant he +and I'd be sharing work shifts—me +up in the control blister, parked in +a soft chair, and him down in the +engine room, broiling in a suit for +twelve hours.</p> + +<p>But I ate with him, used the head +with him; you can call that rubbing +elbows with greatness, if you want to.</p> + +<p>He was a very quiet man. Quiet in +the way he moved and talked. When +we were both climbing into our +bunks, that first night, I introduced +myself and he introduced himself. +Then he heaved himself into his +bunk, rolled over on his side, fixed +his straps, and fell asleep. He was +always friendly toward me, but he +must have been very tired that first +night. I often wondered what kind +of a life he'd lived after the war—what +he'd done that made him different +from the men who simply +grew older in the bars. I wonder, +now, if he really did do anything +different. In an odd way, I like to +think that one day, in a bar, on a +day that seemed like all the rest to +him when it began, he suddenly looked +up with some new thought, put +down his glass, and walked straight +to the Earth-Mars shuttle field.</p> + +<p>He might have come from any +town on Earth. Don't believe the historians +too much. Don't pay too much +attention to the Chamber of Commerce +plaques. When a man's name +becomes public property, strange +things happen to the facts.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was MacReidie who first found +out what he'd done during the war.</p> + +<p>I've got to explain about MacReidie. +He takes his opinions fast +and strong. He's a good man—is, or +was; I haven't seen him for a long +while—but he liked things simple.</p> + +<p>MacReidie said the duffelbag broke +loose and floated into the middle of +the bunkroom during acceleration. +He opened it to see whose it was. +When he found out, he closed it up +and strapped it back in its place at +the foot of the stoker's bunk.</p> + +<p>MacReidie was my relief on the +bridge. When he came up, he didn't +relieve me right away. He stood next +to my chair and looked out through +the ports.</p> + +<p>"Captain leave any special instructions +in the Order Book?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Just the usual. Keep a tight watch +and proceed cautiously."</p> + +<p>"That new stoker," Mac said.</p> + +<p>"Yeah?"</p> + +<p>"I knew there was something +wrong with him. He's got an old +Marine uniform in his duffel."</p> + +<p>I didn't say anything. Mac glanced +over at me. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." I didn't.</p> + +<p>I couldn't say I was surprised. It +had to be something like that, about +the stoker. The mark was on him, as +I've said.</p> + +<p>It was the Marines that did Earth's +best dying. It had to be. They were +trained to be the best we had, and +they believed in their training. They +were the ones who slashed back the +deepest when the other side hit us. +They were the ones who sallied out +into the doomed spaces between the +stars and took the war to the other +side as well as any human force could +ever hope to. They were always the +last to leave an abandoned position. +If Earth had been giving medals to +members of her forces in the war, +every man in the Corps would have +had the Medal of Honor two and +three times over. Posthumously. I +don't believe there were ten of them +left alive when Cope was shot. Cope +was one of them. They were a kind +of human being neither MacReidie +nor I could hope to understand.</p> + +<p>"You don't know," Mac said. "It's +there. In his duffel. Damn it, we're +going out to trade with his sworn +enemies! Why do you suppose he +wanted to sign on? Why do you suppose +he's so eager to go!"</p> + +<p>"You think he's going to try to +start something?"</p> + +<p>"Think! That's exactly what he's +going for. One last big alley fight. +One last brawl. When they cut him +down—do you suppose they'll stop +with him? They'll kill us, and then +they'll go in and stamp Earth flat! +You know it as well as I do."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mac," I said. "Go +easy." I could feel the knots in my +stomach. I didn't want any trouble. +Not from the stoker, not from Mac. +None of us wanted trouble—not +even Mac, but he'd cause it to get +rid of it, if you follow what I mean +about his kind of man.</p> + +<p>Mac hit the viewport with his fist. +"Easy! Easy—nothing's easy. I hate +this life," he said in a murderous +voice. "I don't know why I keep +signing on. Mars to Centaurus and +back, back and forth, in an old rust +tub that's going to blow herself up +one of these—"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Daniels called me on the phone +from Communications. "Turn up +your Intercom volume," he said. +"The stoker's jamming the circuit."</p> + +<p>I kicked the selector switch over, +and this is what I got:</p> + +<p>"<i>—so there we were at a million +per, and the air was gettin' thick. The +Skipper says 'Cheer up, brave boys, +we'll—'</i>"</p> + +<p>He was singing. He had a terrible +voice, but he could carry a tune, and +he was hammering it out at the top +of his lungs.</p> + +<p>"<i>Twas the last cruise of the</i> Venus, +<i>by God you should of seen us! The +pipes were full of whisky, and just +to make things risky, the jets +were ...</i>"</p> + +<p>The crew were chuckling into their +own chest phones. I could hear Daniels +trying to cut him off. But he +kept going. I started laughing myself. +No one's supposed to jam an +intercom, but it made the crew feel +good. When the crew feels good, the +ship runs right, and it had been a +long time since they'd been happy.</p> + +<p>He went on for another twenty +minutes. Then his voice thinned out, +and I heard him cough a little. +"Daniels," he said, "get a relief +down here for me. <i>Jump to it!</i>" He +said the last part in a Master's voice. +Daniels didn't ask questions. He sent +a man on his way down.</p> + +<p>He'd been singing, the stoker had. +He'd been singing while he worked +with one arm dead, one sleeve ripped +open and badly patched because the +fabric was slippery with blood. +There'd been a flashover in the drivers. +By the time his relief got down +there, he had the insulation back on, +and the drive was purring along the +way it should have been. It hadn't +even missed a beat.</p> + +<p>He went down to sick bay, got the +arm wrapped, and would have gone +back on shift if Daniels'd let him.</p> + +<p>Those of us who were going off +shift found him toying with the +theremin in the mess compartment. +He didn't know how to play it, and +it sounded like a dog howling.</p> + +<p>"Sing, will you!" somebody yelled. +He grinned and went back to the +"Good Ship <i>Venus</i>." It wasn't good, +but it was loud. From that, we went +to "Starways, Farways, and Barways," +and "The Freefall Song." Somebody +started "I Left Her Behind For You," +and that got us off into sentimental +things, the way these sessions would +sometimes wind up when spacemen +were far from home. But not since +the war, we all seemed to realize together. +We stopped, and looked at +each other, and we all began drifting +out of the mess compartment.</p> + +<p>And maybe it got to him, too. It +may explain something. He and I +were the last to leave. We went to +the bunkroom, and he stopped in the +middle of taking off his shirt. He +stood there, looking out the porthole, +and forgot I was there. I heard him +reciting something, softly, under his +breath, and I stepped a little closer. +This is what it was:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The rockets rise against the skies,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Slowly; in sunlight gleaming</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With silver hue upon the blue.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And the universe waits, dreaming.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>For men must go where the flame-winds blow,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The gas clouds softly plaiting;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Where stars are spun and worlds begun,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And men will find them waiting.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The song that roars where the rocket soars</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Is the song of the stellar flame;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The dreams of Man and galactic span</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Are equal and much the same.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>What was he thinking of? Make +your own choice. I think I came close +to knowing him, at that moment, but +until human beings turn telepath, no +man can be sure of another.</p> + +<p>He shook himself like a dog out +of cold water, and got into his bunk. +I got into mine, and after a while +I fell asleep.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I don't know what MacReidie may +have told the skipper about the stoker, +or if he tried to tell him anything. +The captain was the senior ticket +holder in the Merchant Service, and +a good man, in his day. He kept +mostly to his cabin. And there was +nothing MacReidie could do on his +own authority—nothing simple, that +is. And the stoker had saved the +ship, and ...</p> + +<p>I think what kept anything from +happening between MacReidie and +the stoker, or anyone else and the +stoker, was that it would have meant +trouble in the ship. Trouble, confined +to our little percentage of the ship's +volume, could seem like something +much more important than the fate +of the human race. It may not seem +that way to you. But as long as no +one began anything, we could all get +along. We could have a good trip.</p> + +<p>MacReidie worried, I'm sure. I +worried, sometimes. But nothing +happened.</p> + +<p>When we reached Alpha Centaurus, +and set down at the trading field +on the second planet, it was the same +as the other trips we'd made, and the +same kind of landfall. The Lud factor +came out of his post after we'd +waited for a while, and gave us our +permit to disembark. There was a Jek +ship at the other end of the field, +loaded with the cargo we would get +in exchange for our holdful of +goods. We had the usual things; +wine, music tapes, furs, and the like. +The Jeks had been giving us light +machinery lately—probably we'd get +two or three more loads, and then +they'd begin giving us something +else.</p> + +<p>But I found that this trip wasn't +quite the same. I found myself looking +at the factor's post, and I realized +for the first time that the Lud hadn't +built it. It was a leftover from the +old colonial human government. And +the city on the horizon—men had +built it; the touch of our architecture +was on every building. I wondered +why it had never occurred to me that +this was so. It made the landfall different +from all the others, somehow. +It gave a new face to the entire +planet.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Mac and I and some of the other +crewmen went down on the field to +handle the unloading. Jeks on self-propelled +cargo lifts jockeyed among +us, scooping up the loads as we unhooked +the slings, bringing cases of +machinery from their own ship. They +sat atop their vehicles, lean and +aloof, dashing in, whirling, shooting +across the field to their ship and +back like wild horsemen on the plains +of Earth, paying us no notice.</p> + +<p>We were almost through when +Mac suddenly grabbed my arm. +"Look!"</p> + +<p>The stoker was coming down on +one of the cargo slings. He stood +upright, his booted feet planted wide, +one arm curled up over his head and +around the hoist cable. He was in his +dusty brown Marine uniform, the +scarlet collar tabs bright as blood at +his throat, his major's insignia glittering +at his shoulders, the battle +stripes on his sleeves.</p> + +<p>The Jeks stopped their lifts. They +knew that uniform. They sat up in +their saddles and watched him come +down. When the sling touched the +ground, he jumped off quietly and +walked toward the nearest Jek. They +all followed him with their eyes.</p> + +<p>"We've got to stop him," Mac +said, and both of us started toward +him. His hands were both in plain +sight, one holding his duffelbag, +which was swelled out with the bulk +of his airsuit. He wasn't carrying a +weapon of any kind. He was walking +casually, taking his time.</p> + +<p>Mac and I had almost reached him +when a Jek with insignia on his +coveralls suddenly jumped down +from his lift and came forward to +meet him. It was an odd thing to +see—the stoker, and the Jek, who +did not stand as tall. MacReidie and +I stepped back.</p> + +<p>The Jek was coal black, his scales +glittering in the cold sunlight, his +hatchet-face inscrutable. He stopped +when the stoker was a few paces +away. The stoker stopped, too. All +the Jeks were watching him and paying +no attention to anything else. The +field might as well have been empty +except for those two.</p> + +<p>"They'll kill him. They'll kill him +right now," MacReidie whispered.</p> + +<p>They ought to have. If I'd been +a Jek, I would have thought that uniform +was a death warrant. But the +Jek spoke to him:</p> + +<p>"Are you entitled to wear that?"</p> + +<p>"I was at this planet in '39. I was +closer to your home world the year +before that," the stoker said. "I was +captain of a destroyer. If I'd had a +cruiser's range, I would have reached +it." He looked at the Jek. "Where +were you?"</p> + +<p>"I was here when you were."</p> + +<p>"I want to speak to your ship's +captain."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll drive you over."</p> + +<p>The stoker nodded, and they walked +over to his vehicle together. They +drove away, toward the Jek ship.</p> + +<p>"All right, let's get back to work," +another Jek said to MacReidie and +myself, and we went back to unloading +cargo.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The stoker came back to our ship +that night, without his duffelbag. He +found me and said:</p> + +<p>"I'm signing off the ship. Going +with the Jeks."</p> + +<p>MacReidie was with me. He said +loudly: "What do you mean, you're +going with the Jeks?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Huh?"</p> + +<p>The stoker shrugged. "Ships are +ships, and physics is physics, no matter +where you go. I'll make out."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a deal did you +make with them? What do you think +you're up to?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"On a Jek ship."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>MacReidie had no answer to that.</p> + +<p>"But—" I said.</p> + +<p>"What?" He looked at me as if +he couldn't understand what might +be bothering me, but I think perhaps +he could.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>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, +<i>Serenus</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>I don't know what he did, to make +things so much better for us. I don't +know if he did anything, but stoke +their ships and, I suppose, fix them +when they were in trouble. I wonder +if he sang dirty songs in that bad +voice of his, to people who couldn't +possibly understand what the songs +were about. All I know is, for some +reason those people slowly began +treating us with respect. We changed, +too, I think—I'm not the same man +I was ... I think—not altogether +the same; I'm a captain now, with +master's papers, and you won't find +me in my cabin very often ... there's +a kind of joy in standing on a bridge, +looking out at the stars you're moving +toward. I wonder if it mightn't +have kept my old captain out of that +place he died in, finally, if he'd tried +it.</p> + +<p>So, I don't know. The older I get, +the less I know. The thing people remember +the stoker for—the thing +that makes him famous, and, I think, +annoys him—I'm fairly sure is only +incidental to what he really did. If he +did anything. If he meant to. I wish +I could be sure of the exact answer +he found in the bottom of that last +glass at the bar before he worked his +passage to Mars and the <i>Serenus</i>, and +began it all.</p> + +<p>So, I can't say what he ought to be +famous for. But I suppose it's enough +to know for sure that he was the first +living being ever to travel all the way +around the galaxy.</p> + + +<p class="theend">THE END</p> + + + +<div class="trans1"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Astounding Science Fiction</i> February +1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Stoker and the Stars, by +Algirdas Jonas Budrys (AKA John A. 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Sentry) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Stoker and the Stars + +Author: Algirdas Jonas Budrys (AKA John A. Sentry) + +Illustrator: van Dongen + +Release Date: October 12, 2007 [EBook #22967] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOKER AND THE STARS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Stephen Blundell +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + THE STOKER + AND THE STARS + + BY JOHN A. SENTRY + + _When you've had your ears pinned + back in a bowknot, it's sometimes hard + to remember that an intelligent people + has no respect for a whipped enemy ... + but does for a fairly beaten enemy._ + +Illustrated by van Dongen + + +Know him? Yes, I know him--_knew_ him. That was twenty years ago. + +Everybody knows him now. Everybody who passed him on the street knows +him. Everybody who went to the same schools, or even to different +schools in different towns, knows him now. Ask them. But I knew him. I +lived three feet away from him for a month and a half. I shipped with +him and called him by his first name. + +What was he like? What was he thinking, sitting on the edge of his bunk +with his jaw in his palm and his eyes on the stars? What did he think he +was after? + +Well ... Well, I think he-- You know, I think I never did know him, +after all. Not well. Not as well as some of those people who're writing +the books about him seem to. + +I couldn't really describe him to you. He had a duffelbag in his hand +and a packed airsuit on his back. The skin of his face had been dried +out by ship's air, burned by ultraviolet and broiled by infra red. The +pupils of his eyes had little cloudy specks in them where the cosmic +rays had shot through them. But his eyes were steady and his body was +hard. What did he look like? He looked like a man. + + * * * * * + +It was after the war, and we were beaten. There used to be a school of +thought among us that deplored our combativeness; before we had ever met +any people from off Earth, even, you could hear people saying we were +toughest, cruelest life-form in the Universe, unfit to mingle with the +gentler wiser races in the stars, and a sure bet to steal their galaxy +and corrupt it forever. Where these people got their information, I +don't know. + +We were beaten. We moved out beyond Centaurus, and Sirius, and then we +met the Jeks, the Nosurwey, the Lud. We tried Terrestrial know-how, we +tried Production Miracles, we tried patriotism, we tried damning the +torpedoes and full speed ahead ... and we were smashed back like +mayflies in the wind. We died in droves, and we retreated from the +guttering fires of a dozen planets, we dug in, we fought through the +last ditch, and we were dying on Earth itself before Baker mutinied, +shot Cope, and surrendered the remainder of the human race to the wiser, +gentler races in the stars. That way, we lived. That way, we were +permitted to carry on our little concerns, and mind our manners. The +Jeks and the Lud and the Nosurwey returned to their own affairs, and we +knew they would leave us alone so long as we didn't bother them. + +We liked it that way. Understand me--we didn't accept it, we didn't +knuckle under with waiting murder in our hearts--we _liked_ it. We were +grateful just to be left alone again. We were happy we hadn't been wiped +out like the upstarts the rest of the Universe thought us to be. When +they let us keep our own solar system and carry on a trickle of trade +with the outside, we accepted it for the fantastically generous gift it +was. Too many of our best men were dead for us to have any remaining +claim on these things in our own right. I know how it was. I was there, +twenty years ago. I was a little, pudgy man with short breath and a +high-pitched voice. I was a typical Earthman. + + * * * * * + +We were out on a God-forsaken landing field on Mars, MacReidie and I, +loading cargo aboard the _Serenus_. MacReidie was First Officer. I was +Second. The stranger came walking up to us. + +"Got a job?" he asked, looking at MacReidie. + +Mac looked him over. He saw the same things I'd seen. He shook his head. +"Not for you. The only thing we're short on is stokers." + +You wouldn't know. There's no such thing as a stoker any more, with +automatic ships. But the stranger knew what Mac meant. + +_Serenus_ had what they called an electronic drive. She had to run with +an evacuated engine room. The leaking electricity would have broken any +stray air down to ozone, which eats metal and rots lungs. So the engine +room had the air pumped out of her, and the stokers who tended the dials +and set the cathode attitudes had to wear suits, smelling themselves for +twelve hours at a time and standing a good chance of cooking where they +sat when the drive arced. _Serenus_ was an ugly old tub. At that, we +were the better of the two interstellar freighters the human race had +left. + +"You're bound over the border, aren't you?" + +MacReidie nodded. "That's right. But--" + +"I'll stoke." + +MacReidie looked over toward me and frowned. I shrugged my shoulders +helplessly. I was a little afraid of the stranger, too. + +The trouble was the look of him. It was the look you saw in the bars +back on Earth, where the veterans of the war sat and stared down into +their glasses, waiting for night to fall so they could go out into the +alleys and have drunken fights among themselves. But he had brought that +look to Mars, to the landing field, and out here there was something +disquieting about it. + +He'd caught Mac's look and turned his head to me. "I'll stoke," he +repeated. + +I didn't know what to say. MacReidie and I--almost all of the men in the +Merchant Marine--hadn't served in the combat arms. We had freighted +supplies, and we had seen ships dying on the runs--we'd had our own +brushes with commerce raiders, and we'd known enough men who joined the +combat forces. But very few of the men came back, and the war this man +had fought hadn't been the same as ours. He'd commanded a fighting ship, +somewhere, and come to grips with things we simply didn't know about. +The mark was on him, but not on us. I couldn't meet his eyes. "O.K. by +me," I mumbled at last. + +I saw MacReidie's mouth turn down at the corners. But he couldn't +gainsay the man any more than I could. MacReidie wasn't a mumbling man, +so he said angrily: "O.K., bucko, you'll stoke. Go and sign on." + +"Thanks." The stranger walked quietly away. He wrapped a hand around the +cable on a cargo hook and rode into the hold on top of some freight. Mac +spat on the ground and went back to supervising his end of the loading. +I was busy with mine, and it wasn't until we'd gotten the _Serenus_ +loaded and buttoned up that Mac and I even spoke to each other again. +Then we talked about the trip. We didn't talk about the stranger. + + * * * * * + +Daniels, the Third, had signed him on and had moved him into the empty +bunk above mine. We slept all in a bunch on the _Serenus_--officers and +crew. Even so, we had to sleep in shifts, with the ship's designers +giving ninety per cent of her space to cargo, and eight per cent to +power and control. That left very little for the people, who were +crammed in any way they could be. I said empty bunk. What I meant was, +empty during my sleep shift. That meant he and I'd be sharing work +shifts--me up in the control blister, parked in a soft chair, and him +down in the engine room, broiling in a suit for twelve hours. + +But I ate with him, used the head with him; you can call that rubbing +elbows with greatness, if you want to. + +He was a very quiet man. Quiet in the way he moved and talked. When we +were both climbing into our bunks, that first night, I introduced myself +and he introduced himself. Then he heaved himself into his bunk, rolled +over on his side, fixed his straps, and fell asleep. He was always +friendly toward me, but he must have been very tired that first night. I +often wondered what kind of a life he'd lived after the war--what he'd +done that made him different from the men who simply grew older in the +bars. I wonder, now, if he really did do anything different. In an odd +way, I like to think that one day, in a bar, on a day that seemed like +all the rest to him when it began, he suddenly looked up with some new +thought, put down his glass, and walked straight to the Earth-Mars +shuttle field. + +He might have come from any town on Earth. Don't believe the historians +too much. Don't pay too much attention to the Chamber of Commerce +plaques. When a man's name becomes public property, strange things +happen to the facts. + + * * * * * + +It was MacReidie who first found out what he'd done during the war. + +I've got to explain about MacReidie. He takes his opinions fast and +strong. He's a good man--is, or was; I haven't seen him for a long +while--but he liked things simple. + +MacReidie said the duffelbag broke loose and floated into the middle of +the bunkroom during acceleration. He opened it to see whose it was. When +he found out, he closed it up and strapped it back in its place at the +foot of the stoker's bunk. + +MacReidie was my relief on the bridge. When he came up, he didn't +relieve me right away. He stood next to my chair and looked out through +the ports. + +"Captain leave any special instructions in the Order Book?" he asked. + +"Just the usual. Keep a tight watch and proceed cautiously." + +"That new stoker," Mac said. + +"Yeah?" + +"I knew there was something wrong with him. He's got an old Marine +uniform in his duffel." + +I didn't say anything. Mac glanced over at me. "Well?" + +"I don't know." I didn't. + +I couldn't say I was surprised. It had to be something like that, about +the stoker. The mark was on him, as I've said. + +It was the Marines that did Earth's best dying. It had to be. They were +trained to be the best we had, and they believed in their training. They +were the ones who slashed back the deepest when the other side hit us. +They were the ones who sallied out into the doomed spaces between the +stars and took the war to the other side as well as any human force +could ever hope to. They were always the last to leave an abandoned +position. If Earth had been giving medals to members of her forces in +the war, every man in the Corps would have had the Medal of Honor two +and three times over. Posthumously. I don't believe there were ten of +them left alive when Cope was shot. Cope was one of them. They were a +kind of human being neither MacReidie nor I could hope to understand. + +"You don't know," Mac said. "It's there. In his duffel. Damn it, we're +going out to trade with his sworn enemies! Why do you suppose he wanted +to sign on? Why do you suppose he's so eager to go!" + +"You think he's going to try to start something?" + +"Think! That's exactly what he's going for. One last big alley fight. +One last brawl. When they cut him down--do you suppose they'll stop with +him? They'll kill us, and then they'll go in and stamp Earth flat! You +know it as well as I do." + +"I don't know, Mac," I said. "Go easy." I could feel the knots in my +stomach. I didn't want any trouble. Not from the stoker, not from Mac. +None of us wanted trouble--not even Mac, but he'd cause it to get rid of +it, if you follow what I mean about his kind of man. + +Mac hit the viewport with his fist. "Easy! Easy--nothing's easy. I hate +this life," he said in a murderous voice. "I don't know why I keep +signing on. Mars to Centaurus and back, back and forth, in an old rust +tub that's going to blow herself up one of these--" + + * * * * * + +Daniels called me on the phone from Communications. "Turn up your +Intercom volume," he said. "The stoker's jamming the circuit." + +I kicked the selector switch over, and this is what I got: + +"_--so there we were at a million per, and the air was gettin' thick. +The Skipper says 'Cheer up, brave boys, we'll--'_" + +He was singing. He had a terrible voice, but he could carry a tune, and +he was hammering it out at the top of his lungs. + +"_Twas the last cruise of the_ Venus, _by God you should of seen us! The +pipes were full of whisky, and just to make things risky, the jets were +..._" + +The crew were chuckling into their own chest phones. I could hear +Daniels trying to cut him off. But he kept going. I started laughing +myself. No one's supposed to jam an intercom, but it made the crew feel +good. When the crew feels good, the ship runs right, and it had been a +long time since they'd been happy. + +He went on for another twenty minutes. Then his voice thinned out, and I +heard him cough a little. "Daniels," he said, "get a relief down here +for me. _Jump to it!_" He said the last part in a Master's voice. +Daniels didn't ask questions. He sent a man on his way down. + +He'd been singing, the stoker had. He'd been singing while he worked +with one arm dead, one sleeve ripped open and badly patched because the +fabric was slippery with blood. There'd been a flashover in the drivers. +By the time his relief got down there, he had the insulation back on, +and the drive was purring along the way it should have been. It hadn't +even missed a beat. + +He went down to sick bay, got the arm wrapped, and would have gone back +on shift if Daniels'd let him. + +Those of us who were going off shift found him toying with the theremin +in the mess compartment. He didn't know how to play it, and it sounded +like a dog howling. + +"Sing, will you!" somebody yelled. He grinned and went back to the "Good +Ship _Venus_." It wasn't good, but it was loud. From that, we went to +"Starways, Farways, and Barways," and "The Freefall Song." Somebody +started "I Left Her Behind For You," and that got us off into +sentimental things, the way these sessions would sometimes wind up when +spacemen were far from home. But not since the war, we all seemed to +realize together. We stopped, and looked at each other, and we all began +drifting out of the mess compartment. + +And maybe it got to him, too. It may explain something. He and I were +the last to leave. We went to the bunkroom, and he stopped in the middle +of taking off his shirt. He stood there, looking out the porthole, and +forgot I was there. I heard him reciting something, softly, under his +breath, and I stepped a little closer. This is what it was: + + "_The rockets rise against the skies, + Slowly; in sunlight gleaming + With silver hue upon the blue. + And the universe waits, dreaming._ + + "_For men must go where the flame-winds blow, + The gas clouds softly plaiting; + Where stars are spun and worlds begun, + And men will find them waiting._ + + "_The song that roars where the rocket soars + Is the song of the stellar flame; + The dreams of Man and galactic span + Are equal and much the same._" + +What was he thinking of? Make your own choice. I think I came close to +knowing him, at that moment, but until human beings turn telepath, no +man can be sure of another. + +He shook himself like a dog out of cold water, and got into his bunk. I +got into mine, and after a while I fell asleep. + + * * * * * + +I don't know what MacReidie may have told the skipper about the stoker, +or if he tried to tell him anything. The captain was the senior ticket +holder in the Merchant Service, and a good man, in his day. He kept +mostly to his cabin. And there was nothing MacReidie could do on his own +authority--nothing simple, that is. And the stoker had saved the ship, +and ... + +I think what kept anything from happening between MacReidie and the +stoker, or anyone else and the stoker, was that it would have meant +trouble in the ship. Trouble, confined to our little percentage of the +ship's volume, could seem like something much more important than the +fate of the human race. It may not seem that way to you. But as long as +no one began anything, we could all get along. We could have a good +trip. + +MacReidie worried, I'm sure. I worried, sometimes. But nothing happened. + +When we reached Alpha Centaurus, and set down at the trading field on +the second planet, it was the same as the other trips we'd made, and the +same kind of landfall. The Lud factor came out of his post after we'd +waited for a while, and gave us our permit to disembark. There was a Jek +ship at the other end of the field, loaded with the cargo we would get +in exchange for our holdful of goods. We had the usual things; wine, +music tapes, furs, and the like. The Jeks had been giving us light +machinery lately--probably we'd get two or three more loads, and then +they'd begin giving us something else. + +But I found that this trip wasn't quite the same. I found myself looking +at the factor's post, and I realized for the first time that the Lud +hadn't built it. It was a leftover from the old colonial human +government. And the city on the horizon--men had built it; the touch of +our architecture was on every building. I wondered why it had never +occurred to me that this was so. It made the landfall different from all +the others, somehow. It gave a new face to the entire planet. + + * * * * * + +Mac and I and some of the other crewmen went down on the field to handle +the unloading. Jeks on self-propelled cargo lifts jockeyed among us, +scooping up the loads as we unhooked the slings, bringing cases of +machinery from their own ship. They sat atop their vehicles, lean and +aloof, dashing in, whirling, shooting across the field to their ship +and back like wild horsemen on the plains of Earth, paying us no notice. + +We were almost through when Mac suddenly grabbed my arm. "Look!" + +The stoker was coming down on one of the cargo slings. He stood upright, +his booted feet planted wide, one arm curled up over his head and around +the hoist cable. He was in his dusty brown Marine uniform, the scarlet +collar tabs bright as blood at his throat, his major's insignia +glittering at his shoulders, the battle stripes on his sleeves. + +The Jeks stopped their lifts. They knew that uniform. They sat up in +their saddles and watched him come down. When the sling touched the +ground, he jumped off quietly and walked toward the nearest Jek. They +all followed him with their eyes. + +"We've got to stop him," Mac said, and both of us started toward him. +His hands were both in plain sight, one holding his duffelbag, which was +swelled out with the bulk of his airsuit. He wasn't carrying a weapon of +any kind. He was walking casually, taking his time. + +Mac and I had almost reached him when a Jek with insignia on his +coveralls suddenly jumped down from his lift and came forward to meet +him. It was an odd thing to see--the stoker, and the Jek, who did not +stand as tall. MacReidie and I stepped back. + +The Jek was coal black, his scales glittering in the cold sunlight, his +hatchet-face inscrutable. He stopped when the stoker was a few paces +away. The stoker stopped, too. All the Jeks were watching him and paying +no attention to anything else. The field might as well have been empty +except for those two. + +"They'll kill him. They'll kill him right now," MacReidie whispered. + +They ought to have. If I'd been a Jek, I would have thought that uniform +was a death warrant. But the Jek spoke to him: + +"Are you entitled to wear that?" + +"I was at this planet in '39. I was closer to your home world the year +before that," the stoker said. "I was captain of a destroyer. If I'd had +a cruiser's range, I would have reached it." He looked at the Jek. +"Where were you?" + +"I was here when you were." + +"I want to speak to your ship's captain." + +"All right. I'll drive you over." + +The stoker nodded, and they walked over to his vehicle together. They +drove away, toward the Jek ship. + +"All right, let's get back to work," another Jek said to MacReidie and +myself, and we went back to unloading cargo. + + * * * * * + +The stoker came back to our ship that night, without his duffelbag. He +found me and said: + +"I'm signing off the ship. Going with the Jeks." + +MacReidie was with me. He said loudly: "What do you mean, you're going +with the Jeks?" + +"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. + +I don't know what he did, to make things so much better for us. I don't +know if he did anything, but stoke their ships and, I suppose, fix them +when they were in trouble. I wonder if he sang dirty songs in that bad +voice of his, to people who couldn't possibly understand what the songs +were about. All I know is, for some reason those people slowly began +treating us with respect. We changed, too, I think--I'm not the same +man I was ... I think--not altogether the same; I'm a captain now, with +master's papers, and you won't find me in my cabin very often ... +there's a kind of joy in standing on a bridge, looking out at the stars +you're moving toward. I wonder if it mightn't have kept my old captain +out of that place he died in, finally, if he'd tried it. + +So, I don't know. The older I get, the less I know. The thing people +remember the stoker for--the thing that makes him famous, and, I think, +annoys him--I'm fairly sure is only incidental to what he really did. If +he did anything. If he meant to. I wish I could be sure of the exact +answer he found in the bottom of that last glass at the bar before he +worked his passage to Mars and the _Serenus_, and began it all. + +So, I can't say what he ought to be famous for. But I suppose it's +enough to know for sure that he was the first living being ever to +travel all the way around the galaxy. + + +THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ February + 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and + typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Stoker and the Stars, by +Algirdas Jonas Budrys (AKA John A. Sentry) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STOKER AND THE STARS *** + +***** This file should be named 22967.txt or 22967.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/9/6/22967/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Stephen Blundell +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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