His group accumulated quite a procession of Nomads, men and women and children; many looked highly intelligent. His bemused vision sharpened to sudden focus as one woman stepped from a doorway ahead of him.
She was young, and bigger than most, and there was grace in her movements. The hair that fell past the wide shoulders was a deep-blonde rush of waves, and the blue eyes were frank.
“Hello, who’ve’you got there?” she asked. “Since when are we adopting Solmen?”
A couple of the guards scowled, and Trevelvan remembered that in Nomad society women had well-defined rights, but were expected to keep in the background. One of the younger men, however, smiled at her. “You ask him, Nicki. Sean brought him up but wouldn’t say why, and neither will be.”
“Who are you Solman?” inquired the woman, falling into step beside him. He noticed that her hands were smeared with clay, and that she held a shaping tool in one. “Sean’s my brother-in-law, you know.”
The archaic term reminded him that the Nomads had pretty clear-cut sexual mores-within the ship, at least. He
smiled and gave his name. “Your captain has the idea I’m a Coordinator,” He added, “So I was brought up here for
-investigation.”
Her look was slow. “You don’t seem very disturbed by it.
Trevelyan shrugged. “What can I do’ ,
“You’re being very cool. I think you are a Cordy.”
The guards’ faces stiffened and gun barrels lifted a trifle.
“Suppose I am?” be challenged.
“I don’t know. It’s up to Hal. But we don’t torture, if that’s any comfort to you.”
“It is. Though I’d gathered as much from other sources.”
The blue eyes were very steady now. “I wondered if you didn’t want to be captured.”
She was intelligent, maybe too much so. But she was eager to talk, and he might pick up some useful information. “Why don’t you come see me at the brig?” he invited. “I’m guaranteed harmless.”
“So is a gun until you squeeze the trigger. Sure, I’ll come around. You won’t be kept there long anyway, I think. After Hal’s had a chance to question you, you’ll probably be jettisoned or-” She stopped.
“Or killed?” Trevelyan gently.
She didn’t answer, but that in itself was answer enough.
CHAPTER VIII
A I I i a n c e
TIIE PERECRINE -;Iiei irorfi Nertbtis a-.id its star until sl-ie was in a sufficiently weak gravitational field, t’.)cn the alarm bells warned crewmen to their posts. The indescribable twisting
sensation of hyperdrive fields building up went through human bodies and faded, and the steady thrum of energy pulses filled the ship. Her pseudo-velocity grew rapidly toward maximum, and Carsten’s Star dwindled in the rearview screens and was lost among the constellations.
From astronaut to engineer, and all jobs between, the crew settled into a habitual round of ship duties. There was a relative dearth of automatic and robot machinery on a Noniad vessel, much being done by band that a Solarian craft would have carried out for herself. This could in part be attributed to the decline of science among the starjumpers. But there was also a genuine need for something to do when a large group of people, whose most fundamental motivation was an inbred restlessness, were crowded into a metal cylinder for weeks or months on end.
Off ship duty, the Nomads had enough occupation. Workshops hummed around the clock as artists and artisans produced goods to trade with their fellows or with outsiders. There were the children to take care of and educate, a serious task. There were the various entertainment and service enterprises, including three taverns and a hospital.
When Joachim thought the ship was properly under way, Trevelyan was escorted to the captain’s cabin. Joachim dismissed the guard and smiled cheerfully, waving to a chair on the opposite side of his desk. “If you want a smoke, I have plenty of extra pipes.”
“So you do.” Trevelyan’s gaze went about the room. It was laid out with a bachelor fussiness and a spaceman’s compactness-in this comer the desk and a rack of astrogational instruments and references; in that comer a bunk and dresser. Doors led off to the tiny kitchenette and bathroom and to an extra bedchamber. A shelf of microbooks held an astonishing variety of titles in several languages, all seeming well used. There was a family portrait on the wall; against another wall was the customary family altar. A large rack held an unusually good collection of pipes, many of them intricately carved.