ears. She responded with a tired, halfhearted purr.
THE DAY or THE DISSONANCE
117
“Don’t worry, Roseroar. I got you into this. Maybe I
can’t get myself home, but I can damn well get you out of
it. I owe you that much. I owe all of you that much.”
Mudge was already asleep and didn’t hear the promise.
Jalwar squatted in another corner picking resignedly at
strands of hay.
I just don’t know how I’m going to get you all out of
this, Jon-Tom mused silently.
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
119
VIII
Somehow the concept of “swabbing the deck” was tinged
with innocence; a reflection of childhood memories of
stories about wooden ships and iron men.
The reality of it was something else.
You rested on your hands and knees on a rough planked
deck, stripped to the waist beneath a hot sun that blistered
your neck and set the skin to peeling off your back. Sweat
flowed in streams from under your arms, from your fore-
head and your belly. Anything small and solid, be it a
speck of dust or one of your own hairs, that slipped into
your eye made you want to run screaming for the railing to
throw yourself over the side.
Salt air worsened your situation, exacerbating the sore
spots, making them fester and redden faster. Splinters
stung the exposed skin of hands and ankles while your
palms were raw from pushing the wide brushes soaked
with lye-based cleaning solution.
Meanwhile you advanced slowly the length of the deck,
making sure to remove each bloodstain lest some laughing
member of the crew remind you of its presence by pressing
a heavy foot on your raw fingers.