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never encountered in earth's gravity well.
"What is it that's so bad about him? Other than that smirky grin, he
hasn't said nor done anything wrong that I can see."
"Pray he doesn't. If we make this jump, maybe he'll be content to leave
everyone alone, except me, perhaps. We'll both be going to the colony if we
make it."
"Why would he want to bother you then? It seems to me he ought to be
grateful if we make it to the colony instead of going the other way. It's
Steve and me who have to worry."
Sheila avoided Janie's question. She had tried desperately all her
adult life to put Dean's abuse behind her once John Tremaine had put a stop to
it. "Never mind, I just wanted to warn you, that's all. Come on, let's go see
what your cabin looks like, then we'll see if our esteemed captain intends to
feed us, or teach us anything about the ship before we try the jump."
Janie's cabin proved to be a duplicate of Sheila's and she didn't
linger, nor did the other crew members linger in theirs; they were designed
primarily for either sleeping or interacting with the sparse entertainment
programs offered on the cabin holoscreens, most of the choices years-old
re-runs. While they were waiting for Dean to do something other than run
through ship's computer programs, Doctor Porter emerged from his cabin in the
company of another woman, a plump brunette with short, jet-black hair. She was
trying to stifle a laugh, apparently at some joke Porter had regaled her with.
"Hello, ladies. I'd like you to meet Tracy Matthews. She'll be with us
for the long haul. If you don't like the food, blame her. I just told her I
like my meat charcoal grilled and she didn't know what I was talking about.
She thinks charcoal is something you find in filtered stimsticks." Porter was
beginning to feel like a teenager just given leave by his parents to begin
having sex. All his long life he had been conservative, dedicated almost
wholly to medicine, and restrained by social strictures learned as a child.
Now, with the impending end of his life he found himself suddenly relaxed, no
longer caring what anyone thought. Tracy, the young biologist, seemed to share
his sudden freedom from restraint. They had hit it off immediately, having
both been sentenced for medical malpractice.
"And he thinks soycorn is something you feed to cattalo," Tracy
responded. "I guess I will be in charge of life support, though no one has
told me so yet." She raised her voice at the last part of the sentence, hoping
to get Dean's attention. She did.
"You people can sort out your own duties after Sheila and I get off at
Altair. In the meantime, I'll tell the computer anything that's necessary."
"Then how about telling it we're hungry?" Tracy asked.
Dean did so, though with ill grace. He wasn't hungry himself. Fear over
the impending jump was giving him the willies, and besides, he didn't like the
idea of the old doctor being aboard. Better to have had another woman, then if
the jump failed, at least he could spend his last days playing out his
fantasies with no interference from anyone.
During the course of another meal, a period of sleep which was
singularly unproductive, and another, slightly more palatable meal produced by
Tracy instructing the ship's computer, Janie felt the tension of the impending
jump winding her up tighter and tighter. With Dean unwilling to share much
information on ship handling other than the life support systems, there was
little to do other than sleep and eat and talk. She found Sheila to be a
compatible companion, though reticent in conversations when family history was
mentioned. Doctor Porter proved to be a calming influence, somewhat at least,
telling off-color jokes that she sometimes missed the point of. What was a
bastard? And for that matter, who was Elvis and why was he now being compared
to the Wandering Jew of ancient legend? She wished again that Steve were
around; he read so much he would probably have been able to explain. As it
was, she laughed politely and tried not to stare as Doctor Porter and Tracey
touched and eyed each other like teenagers.
After a short burn to get them lined up in the proper orbit, and as the
time for the jump approached, Janie saw that Dean Tremaine had begun to
tremble, at first only in his hands, but as the time grew closer his whole
body shivered. It was the first time she had ever observed stark terror in a
human being and the picture wasn't a pretty one.
For the first time, Dean began to speak other than in monosyllables,
but his only conversation consisted of questions, first to one, then the
other. "Do you think we'll make it? I wonder how close we'll come out to
Altair? What if those stupid Jammers on the moon misjudged our mass?"
Janie couldn't see the sense in worrying the rest of the crew, even
though she was scared, too. Either they would make it or they wouldn't. Dean
reminded her of a petulant little boy who couldn't get his own way and would
never dream of sharing his toys.
A chronometer on the ship's computer screen told of the approaching
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