The party who watched him made no answer. Lije shook his head and climbed on. When he reached the lock, he held out a glove for an assist, but the figure stepped back quickly. Lije stared inside. The figure was holding a gun. Lije stepped down a rung. The gun beckoned impatiently for him to get inside. Reluctantly Lije obeyed.
The hatch closed. A valve spat a jet of frost, and they watched the pressure dial slowly creep to ten psi. Lije watched the stranger unfasten his helmet, then undid his own. The stranger was male, and the white goggle marks about his eyes betrayed him as a spacer. His thin dark features suggested Semitic or Arabic origins.
"Parlez-vous francais?"
"Naw," said Lije. "Sho' don't. Sorry."
The man tossed his head and gave a knowing snort. "It is necessaire that we find out who you are," he explained, and brandished the weapon under Lije's nose. He grinned a flash of white teeth. "Who send you here?"
"Nobody send me. I come unduh my own steam. Some fell as in my moonjeep pulled cands, and I—"
"Whup! You are—ah
ein Unteroffizier? Mais non,
wrong sprach—you
l'officiale?
Officer? Company man?"
"Who, me? Land, no. I'm juss a hot-stick man on B-shif'. You muss be lookin' fo' Suds Brodanovitch."
"Why you come to this ship?"
"Well, the fellas ,and I heard tell theah was some gals, and we—"
The man waved the gun impatiently and pressed a button near the inner hatch. A red indicator light went on.
"Yes?" A woman's voice, rather hoarse. Lije's chest heaved with sudden emotion, and his sigh came out a bleat..
The man spoke in a flood of French. The woman did not reply at once. Lije noticed the movement of a viewing lens beside the hatch; it was scanning him from head to toe.
The woman's voice shifted to an intimate contralto. "OK, dearie, you come right in here where it's nice and warm."
The inner hatch slid open. It took Lije a few seconds to realize that she had been talking to him. She stood there smiling at him like a middle-aged schoolmarm. "Why don't you come on in and meet the girls?" Eyes popping, Lije Henderson stumbled inside.
He was gone a long time.
When he finally came out, the men in Novotny's runabout took turns cursing at him over the suit frequency.
"Fa chrissake, Henderson, we've been sitting here using up oxy for over an hour while you been horsing around ..."
They waited for him with the runabout, cabin depressurized.
Lije was panting wildly as he ran toward them.
"Lissen to the bahstud giggle,"
Bama said disgustedly.
"Y'all juss don' know, y'all juss don' KNOW!"
Lije was chanting between pants.
"
Get in here, you damn traitor!"
"Hones', I couldn' help myself. I juss couldn'."
"Well, do the rest of us get aboard her, or not?"
Joe snapped.
"Hell, go ahead, man! It's wide open. Evahthing's wide open."
"Girls?"
Relke grunted.
"
Girls, God yes! Girls."
"You coming with
us?" Joe asked.
Lije shook his head and fell back on the seat, still panting.
"Lawd, no! I couldn't stand it. I juss want to lie heah and look up at ole Mamma Earth and feel like a human again."
He grinned beatifically.
"Y'all go on."
Braxton was staring at his crony with curious suspicion.
"Man, those must be some entuhtainuhs! Whass the mattah with you, Lije?"
Henderson whooped and pounded his leg.
"Woo hoo! Hooeee! You mean y'all still don' know what that ship is?"
They had already climbed out of the tractor. Novotny glared back in at Lije.
"We've been waiting to hear it from you, Henderson,"
he snapped.
Lije sat up grinning.
"That's no stage show troupe! That ship, so help me Hannah, is a—hoo hoo hooee—is a goddam flyin' HO-house."
He rolled over on the seat and surrendered to laughter.
Novotny looked around for his men and found himself standing alone. Braxton was already on the ladder, and Relke was just starting up behind.
"Hey, you guys come back here!"
"Drop dead, Joe."
Novotny stared after them until they disappeared through the lock. He glanced back at Lije. Henderson was in a grinning beatific trance. The pusher shrugged and left him lying there, still wearing his pressure suit in the open cabin. The pusher trotted after his men toward the ship.
Before he was halfway there, a voice broke into his headsets.
"Where the devil are you going, Novotny? I want a talk with you!"
He stopped to glance back. The voice belonged to Brodanovitch, and it sounded sore. The engineer's runabout had nosed in beside Novotny's; Suds sat in the cab and beckoned at him angrily. Joe trudged on back and climbed in through the vehicle's coffin-sized airlock. Brodanovitch glared at him while the pusher removed his helmet.
"What the devil's going on over there?"
“At the ship?" Joe paused. Suds was livid. "I don't know exactly."
"I've been calling Safety and Rescue for an hour and a half. Where are they?"
"In the ship, I guess."
"You
guess!"
"Hell, chief, take it easy. We just got here. I don't know what's going on."
"Where are your men?"
Novotny jerked his thumb at the other runabout. "Henderson's in there. Relke and Brax went to the ship."
"And that's where you were going just now, I take it," Suds snarled.
"Take that tone of voice and shove it, Suds! You, know where you told me to go. I went. Now I'm off. We're on our own time unless you tell us different."
The engineer spent a few seconds swallowing his fury. "All right," he grunted. ,"But every man on that rescue squad is going to face a Space Court, and if I have any say about it, they'll get decomped."
Novotny's jaw dropped. "Slow down, Suds. Explosive decompression is for mutiny or murder. What're you talking about?"
"Murder."
"Wha-a-at?"
"That's what I call it. A demolition man—Hardin, it was—had a blowout. With only one man standing by on the rescue gear."
"Meteor dust?"
"Yeah."
"Would it have made any difference if Safety and Rescue had been on the job?"
Suds glowered. "Maybe, maybe not. An inspector might have spotted the bulge in his suit before it blew." He shook an angry finger toward the abandoned Safety & Rescue vehicles. "Those men are going to stand trial for negligent homicide. It's the principle, damn it!"
"Sure, Suds. I guess you're right. I'll be right back" Henderson, was sleeping in his pressure suit when Novotny climbed back into his own runabout. The cab was still a vacuum. He got the hatch closed, turned on the air pumps, then woke Henderson.
"Lije, you been with ,a woman?"
"Nnnnnngg-nnnng! I hope to tell!" He shot a quick glance toward the rocket as if to reassure himself as to its reality. "And man, was she a little—"
Joe shook him again. "Listen. Brodanovitch is in the next car. Bull mad. I'll ask you again. You been with a woman?"
"Woman? You muss of lost yoah mine, Joe. Lass time I saw a woman was up at Atlanta." He rolled his eyes up toward the Earth crescent in the heavens. "Sure been a long ole time. Atlanta ...
man!"
"That's better."
Lije jerked his head toward Brodanovitch's jeep. "What's ole wet blanket gonna do? Chase those gals out of here, I 'spect?"
"I don't know. That's not what he's frothing about, Lije. Hardin got killed while the S&R boys were shacking up over there. Suds doesn't even
know
what's in that ship. He acts like he's got about a dozen troubles running loose at once, and he doesn't know which way to grab."
"He don't even
know?
How we evah gonna keep him from findin' out?" Lije shot another glance at the ship and jumped. "Uh-oh! Looka theah! Yonder they come. Clamberin' down the ladies' ladduh. Theah's Joyce and Lander and Petzel—other one looks like Crump. Half the Safety team, Joe. Hoo-eee! They got that freshly bred look. You can evum tell it from heah. Uh-oh!"
Brodanovitch had climbed out of his runabout. Bellowing at his mic, he charged toward the ship. The S&R men took a few lopes toward their vehicles, saw Brodanovitch, and stopped. One man turned tail and bolted for the ladder again. Gesturing furiously, the engineer bore down on them.
"Leave the radio off, Joe. Sure glad we don' have to listen to that bull bellow."
They sat watching the safety men, who managed some-how to look stark naked despite their bulgey pressure suits. Suds stalked toward them like an amok runner, beating a gloved fist into his palm and working his jaw at them.
"Suds don' know how to get along with men when he
want
to get along with 'em, and he don' know how to fuss at 'em when he don't want to get along. Man, look how he rave!"
"Yeah. Suds is a smart engineer, but he's a rotten over-seer."
The ship's airlock opened again and another man started out. He stopped with one foot on the top rung of the ladder. He looked down at Brodanovitch and the S&R men. He pulled his leg back inside and closed the hatch. Novotny chuckled.
"That was Relke, the damn fool."
Lije smote his forehead. "Look at Suds! They tole him! They went an
tole
him, Joe. We'll nevah get back in that ship now."
The pusher watched the four figures on the plain. They were just standing there. Brodanovitch had stopped gesticulating. For a few seconds he seemed frozen. His head turned slowly as he looked up at the rocket. He took three steps toward it, then stopped.
"He gonna have apoplexy, thass what he gonna have." Brodanovitch turned slowly. He gave the S&R men a blank look, then broke into a run toward his tractor. "I'd better climb out," Joe said.
He met the engineer beside the command runabout. Suds's face was a livid mask behind the faceplate.
"Get in,"
he snapped at the pusher.
As soon as they were inside, he barked, "Drive us to Crater City."
"Slow down, Suds."
"
Joe. That ship. Damn brothel. Out to fleece the camp." "So what're you going to do in Crater City?"
"Tell Parkeson, what else?"
"And what's the camp going to be doing while you're gone?"
That one made him pause. Finally he shook his head. "Drive, Joe."
Novotny flipped the switch and glanced at the gauges. "You haven't got enough oxygen in this bug to last out the trip."
"Then we'll get another one."
"Better take a minute to think it over, Suds. You're all revved up. What the hell can Parkeson do?"
"What can he
do?
What can—migawd, Joe!" Suds choked.
"Well?"
"He can get that ship out of here, he can have those women interned."
"How? Suppose they refuse to budge. Who appointed Parkeson king of creation? Hell, he's only
our
boss, Suds. The moon's open to any nation that wants to send a ship, or to any corporation that can get a clearance. The W.P. decided that a long time ago."
"But it's illegal—those women, I mean!"
"How do you know? Maybe their racket's legal in Algiers. That's where you told me they had clearance from, didn't you? And if you're thinking about the Schneider-Volkov Act, it just applies to the Integrated Projects, not wildcat teams."
Brodanovitch sat silent for a few moments, his throat working. He passed a shaky hand over his eyes. "Joe, we've got to keep discipline. Why can't I ever make the men understand that? On a moon project, it's discipline or die. You know that, Joe."
"Sure I know it. You know it. Parkeson knows it. The First Minister of the Space Ministry knows it. But the men don't know it, and they never will. They don't know what the word 'discipline' means, and it's no good trying to tell them. It's an overseer's word. It means your outfit's working for you like your own arms and legs. One brain and one body. When it cracks, you've just got a loose handful of stray men. No coordination. You can see it, but they can't see it. 'Discipline' is just a dirty word in the ranks, Suds."
"Joe, what'll I do?"
"It's your baby, not mine. Give it first aid. Then talk to Parkeson later, if you want to."
Suds sat silent for half a minute, then: "Drive back to the main wagon."
Novotny started the motors. "What are you going to do?"
"Announce Code Red, place the ship off limits, put an armed guard on it, and hope the Crater City crew gets that telephone circuit patched up quick. That's all I can do."
"Then let me get a safe distance away from you before you do it."
"You think it'll cause trouble?"
"Good Lord, Suds, use your head. You've got a campful of men who haven't been close to a dame in months and years, even to talk to. They're sick, they're scared, they're fed-up, they want to go home. The Party's got them bitter, agitated. I'd hate to be the guy who puts those women off limits."