“I’m in charge.”
The Venerian’s tendrils quitted the keys of the voder, sought out a pouch by it, and removed a sheaf of paper money. He laid it on the deck and returned to the keys. “Then, sir, will you favor me by accepting this evidence of my gratitude for a difficult service well performed and distribute it among your assistants equitably and according to your customs, whatever they may be?”
The human scooped it up and shoved it into his pouch. “Sure thing, chief. Thanks.”
“The honor is mine.” The laborers left and the dragon turned his attention to Don, but, before they could exchange any words, the last of the compartment’s human freight came down from the deck above. It was a family party; the female head thereof took one look inside and screamed.
She swarmed back up the ladder, causing a traffic jam with her descendants and spouse as she did so. The dragon swiveled two eyes in her direction while waving the others at Don. “Dear me!” he keyed. “Do you think it would help if I were to assure the lady that I have no anthropophagic tendencies?”
Don felt acutely embarrassed; he wished for some way to disown the woman as a blood sister and member of his race. “She’s just a stupid fool,” he answered. “Please don’t pay any attention to her.”
“I fear me that a merely negative approach will not suffice.”
Don whistled an untranslatable dragon sound of contempt and continued with “May her life be long and tedious.”
“Tut, tut,” the dragon tapped back. “Unreasoned anguish is nonetheless real. ‘To understand all is to forgive all’—one of your philosophers.”
Don did not recognize the quotation and it seemed pretty extreme to him, in any case. He was sure that there were things he would never forgive no matter how well he understood them—some recent events, in fact. He was about to say so when both their attentions were arrested by sounds pouring down the open hatchway. Two and perhaps more male voices were engaged in an argument with a shrill female voice rising over them and sometimes drowning them out. It appeared (a) that she wanted to speak to the captain (b) that she had been carefully brought up and had never had to put up with such things (c) that those hideous monsters should never be allowed to come to Earth; they should be exterminated (d) that if Adolf were half a man he wouldn’t just stand there and let his own wife be treated so (e) she intended to write to the company and that her family was not without influence and (f) that she demanded to speak to the captain.
Don wanted to say something to cover it up but he was fascinated by it. Presently the sounds moved away and died out; a ship’s officer came down the hatch and looked around. “Are you comfortable?” he said to “Sir Isaac Newton.”
“Quite, thank you.”
He turned to Don. “Get your bags, young man, and come with me. The captain has decided to give his nibs here a compartment to himself.”
“Why?” asked Don. “My ticket says couch sixty-four and I like it here.”
The ship’s officer scratched his chin and looked at him, then turned to the Venerian. “Is it all right with you?”
“Most certainly. I shall be honored by the young gentleman’s company.”
He turned back to Don. “Well… all right. I’d probably have to hang you on a hook if I moved you anyway.” He glanced at his watch and swore. “If I don’t get a move on, we’ll miss take-off and have to lay over a day.” He was up and out of the compartment as he spoke.
The final warning sounded over the announcing system; a hoarse voice followed it with, “All hands! Strap down! Stand by for lift!” The order was followed by a transcription of the brassy strains of Le Compte’s, Raise Ship! Don’s pulse quickened; excitement mounted in him. He felt ecstatically happy, eager to be back in space again, back where he belonged. The bad, confusing things of the past day washed out of his mind; even the ranch and Lazy grew dim.