Star Winds

But gradually he was getting the hang of it. The sun receded and the ship cooled, and life aboard her settled into a routine. Fear faded in most into a mulish resentment, even to growing pride. And there were always a few to whom every moment was a glorious adventure …

***

Blue silk billowed and strained all around Rachad. Occasionally the sails rippled as they met some tiny irregularity in the ether flow and the ship trembled ever so slightly. Mostly, however, everything was rock-steady. It required an effort of the imagination to realize that the ship was moving at all.

Having finished his daily task of checking tacks and pulleys, he was making his way along a yardarm. Below him, the maindeck was deserted. Overhead he could see Mars, glowing like a red warning lamp, and to one side, as if below the level of the deck, was an equally brilliant blue-white star he knew was Earth.

Suddenly something seemed to flash past him, so close as to make his heart jump. A meteor, he decided apprehensively—the one accident a spacefarer could do nothing to avoid. Making sure his safety line was clear, he stepped off the foot-rope, let go the yard, and floated gently down until hitting the deck. Then he unhooked his line, coiled it neatly and clipped it in place near the deck lockers.

It happened again. A flash, a fleeting impression of something hurtling aslant the deck, this time narrowly missing the midmast.

A swarm, he thought with fright. A third object approached, more slowly, visible as a pale white ball which thudded into the deck, splintered the planking, and rolled before coming to rest against the airshed.

Rachad saw Clabert and two others working forward. They seemed to have noticed nothing, the sound of the impact being conducted poorly, perhaps, through their lead-soled boots and mingling with the thuds and thumps one heard when busy in a spacesuit. It occurred to him to warn them, but instead he turned to peer in the direction from which the meteors were coming, and thought to detect a whole swarm of tiny glints, distinguishable from the starry background by their motion.

He hurried to the white ball and picked it up. It was about the size of a large melon, very regular in shape, and not at all what he would have expected a meteor to be. Judging by the ease with which he was able to move it, he judged it to have the density of wood rather than stone, and its pale rind-like surface made him think of a hard-shelled fruit. One side seemed partly decomposed and was friable under the pressure of his hands.

Very odd, Rachad thought. He decided to give the object closer inspection. He tucked it under his arm, passed through the airshed, and made his way to the mess deck.

He now messed with the rest of the crew, having been unceremoniously booted out of the sternhouse by Zhorga once the men seemed more settled. Few of them were friendly toward him, however, and he met only hostile glances as he walked in, set down the ball on his bunk, and unscrewed his helmet.

The stench of the crew quarters invaded his nostrils, but within seconds he ceased to notice the familiar thick odor. He unfastened the suit’s toggles and pulled apart the self-sealing inner lining, ducking his head through the brass ring and pulling the suit down over his shoulders. He withdrew his arms from the sleeves and picked up the ball with his bare hands. It was as cold as ice—colder. It seemed to suck the heat from him. He dropped it back on the bunk, his fingers numb.

Then he became aware of Boogle standing over him. The sailor spoke in a hoarse whisper. “What you got there, boy?”

“It dropped on the deck,” Rachad said, blowing on his aching fingers.

“So that was it … we heard the thump …” For once Boogle’s bulging eyes were fixed in concentration as he leaned closer to the pallidly shining ball. Then, with a hysterical shriek, he staggered back.

“Oh God! Look at this, mates!” he called out breathlessly. “He’s copped a space dragon’s egg!”

Rachad blinked, and gave a nervous laugh. “Nonsense!” he declared. “Space dragons don’t exist. This is a piece of rock, that’s all, that probably drifted in from the Girdle of Demeter.”

He fell silent, uncomfortably aware of the crowd that rapidly surrounded him in answer to Boogle’s cries. He caught a whiff of superstitious panic.

Boogle pointed with a trembling finger. “Don’t you recognize it, any of you?” he hooted. “A space dragon’s egg, that’s what it is!”

“It’s a dragon’s egg, all right,” another voice said hotly. “I saw one in Indie, once—de-animated.”

“Well this one won’t be!” Boogle snapped back excitedly. “Our little Captain’s pet has brought a dragon into the ship, that’s what he’s done! And we’re all done for!”

“Get rid of it!”

Boogle’s last words had ended on a wail, and echoing wails answered them. The panic mounted. Men went for spacesuits. Some so much forgot themselves as to dash for the companionway unprotected.

“All right!” Rachad yelled in exasperation. “I’ll get rid of it!”