Project Pope

Project Pope Read Free Page A

Book: Project Pope Read Free
Author: Clifford D. Simak
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provisions, sir?”
    â€œVaguely,” said Tennyson. “I know it is illegal to stow away. But I must tell you—”
    â€œThere is, however, another matter which I feel compelled to consider,” the captain told him. “I have the feeling, knee-deep as I am in alien scum, that humans, under whatever circumstances, should always stick together. We run fairly thin out here and it is my opinion that we should be supportive of one another, overlooking transgressions if they be not too odious.…”
    â€œYour attitude does credit to you,” said Tennyson. “There has been something I’ve been trying to tell you and haven’t had the chance. You see, sir, I am not a stowaway.”
    The captain turned steely eyes on him. “Then tell me what you are. If you’re not a stowaway, what are you?”
    â€œWell, let us say,” said Tennyson, “that I was simply pressed for time. That I did not have the time to arrange for passage by going through the formal channels. That, for compelling reasons I have revealed to you, I couldn’t afford to miss your ship, so came aboard in a rather unorthodox manner, passed on board by an unsuspecting alien crew member who mistook me for the mate and—”
    â€œBut you hid away.”
    â€œEasy to explain. I feared that you might not give me the time to explain my situation and be so conscientious as to heave me off the ship. So I hid and waited until there seemed little chance you could do anything but continue on your way.”
    â€œBy all of this, do I understand you to be saying that you stand prepared to pay your passage?”
    â€œMost certainly I do. If you’ll only name the figure.”
    â€œWhy,” said the captain, “most willingly indeed. And I’ll charge you not one tittle above the regular fare.”
    â€œThat’s considerate of you, sir.”
    â€œDr. Tennyson,” the captain said, “please go ahead and drink. You have not touched the bottle to your lips. It makes me nervous to see you sit there and merely fondle it.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean to make you nervous.” Tennyson tipped the bottle, took a generous swallow, then lowered it again.
    â€œMarvelous,” he said. “What is it?”
    â€œIt’s a concoction called Scotch,” the captain told him. “It first was brewed on Mother Earth.”
    â€œYou mean Old Earth?”
    â€œThat’s right,” the captain said. “The home planet of us humans.”
    â€œI have a great curiosity about Old Earth. Have you ever been there?”
    The captain shook his head. “Few humans have ever set foot upon its sacred soil. We are scattered far and thin in space, and few of us go on that pilgrimage we always promise ourselves that someday we will make.”
    â€œAh, well,” said Tennyson. He tilted the bottle once again.
    â€œTo get back to our arrangement,” the captain said. “I fear I have to tell you that I have no place for you. The cabins, the few that I have, are filled. Even my own quarters are rented out to a horde of scaly horrors who are pilgriming to End of Nothing. At the end of the voyage, I shall have to fumigate the place before I can move back in, and it may be years before I am rid of the stench of them.”
    â€œWhy let them have it, then?”
    â€œBecause of money,” said the captain. “This particular band of scum is filthy rich and they must have my best accommodations without regard to cost. So that is how it is. I charged each of the bastards a triple fare. Although I think now I may live to regret my greed. The mate and I are sharing his quarters, turn and turn about. The mate is a devoted garlic eater. Thinks it keeps him healthy. Only dire necessity forces me to crawl into his bunk.”
    â€œThe mate is the only other human?”
    â€œOrdinarily, yes. Just the two of us. The crew is made up of rat

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