Project Pope Read Free Page B

people, like the one who found you, and other assorted unsavory beings. The passenger hold and cabins are filled with nauseating pilgrims.”
    â€œIf you dislike aliens so much, why are you in this business? Surely you could operate in freight.”
    â€œFive more years of this,” the captain said. “Five more years is all that it will take. There’s no real money in freighting. But hauling these damned pilgrims is profitable if you can stand it. And I can stand it, just barely, for another five years. For, by then, I will have money enough to retire. Back to a pink planet, name of Apple Blossom. Silly name, of course, but it’s perfect for the planet. Have you ever been on a pink planet, Doctor? There are not many of them.”
    â€œNo, I never have.”
    â€œPity,” said the captain.
    A tap sounded from the direction of the open door.
    The captain swung about in his chair. “Oh, there you are, my dear,” he said, obviously pleased.
    Tennyson also swung about. A woman stood in the doorway. She was statuesque, with broad shoulders and hips. Her eyes crinkled in an expressive face. Her month was generous and soft, her hair a halo of gleaming gold.
    â€œCome in, please,” said the captain. “As you see, we have picked up another passenger. Four humans aboard on a single trip. I believe that to be a record.”
    â€œIf I am not intruding,” she said.
    â€œYou are not,” the captain told her. “We are pleased to have you. Jill Roberts, this is Dr. Tennyson. Dr. Jason Tennyson.”
    She held out her hand to Tennyson. “I am glad to see another human. Where have you kept yourself?”
    Tennyson froze momentarily. Turning her head, the woman had exposed her other cheek. Across it, from temple to jaw, covering almost the entire right cheek, was an angry, ugly slash of red.
    â€œI am sorry, Doctor,” she said. “It is the way I am. It has horrified my friends for years.”
    â€œPlease forgive me,” said Tennyson. “My reaction is inexcusable. As a physician …”
    â€œAs a physician, there is nothing you can do about it. It is inoperable. No cosmetic surgery is possible. Nothing. I have to live with it; I have learned to live with it.”
    â€œMiss Roberts,” said the captain smoothly, “is a writer. Articles for magazines. A long shelf of books.”
    â€œIf that bottle has not grown fast to your hand,” said Jill Roberts to Tennyson, “how about letting loose of it?”
    â€œCertainly,” Tennyson said. “Let me wipe it off.” He scrubbed its neck on his shirt sleeve.
    â€œIt appears there are no glasses aboard this bucket,” said Jill Roberts. “But I don’t really mind. Drinking out of a bottle after someone else is only another way to trade around some germs.”
    She took the bottle and sat down in the one remaining chair.
    â€œWhere are you putting up?” she asked Tennyson. “I recollect the captain told me all the cabins are filled. He hasn’t put you down in steerage with the alien cattle, has he?”
    â€œDr. Tennyson,” said the captain primly, “was a late show. I have nowhere to put him. He turned up unexpectedly.”
    She raised the bottle to her lips, lowered it, looked inquiringly at Tennyson.
    â€œIs that true?” she asked.
    Tennyson grinned. “The captain is trying to be polite. Actually, I was a stowaway. As to accommodations, neither of you should worry about it. I can curl up anywhere. I’m just glad to be aboard.”
    â€œThat is not quite right either,” said the captain. “He did stow away, but now he offers to pay his passage. Technically, he no longer is a stowaway.”
    â€œYou must be starved,” Jill said, “unless you brought along a lunch.”
    â€œI never thought about it,” said Tennyson. “I was in too much of a hurry. But I could do with a