The Makeshift Rocket Read Free Page B

the fighting around Lois. In view of all this uncertainty, even local trade has slacked off to negligibility.
Ach, es ist ganz schrecklich!
I am ruined!’
    ‘But if I remember right,’ said Herr Syrup, bewildered, ‘New Vinshester, de Anglian capital, is only about ten t’ousand kilometers from here. Vy do dey not send a varship?’
    ‘They are not aware of it,’ said Sarmishkidu, burying his flat face in the tankard. ‘Excuse me, I mean they do not know what fumblydiddles is here going on. Before vacation time, we never get many ships here. Der Erses landed just four days ago. They took ofer
der Rundfunk
, the radio, and handled routine messages as if nothing had happened. Your ship was the first since der invasion.’
    ‘And may be de last,’ groaned Herr Syrup. ‘Dey made some qvack-qvack about plague and qvarantined us.’
    ‘Ach, so!’ Sarmishkidu passed a dramatic hand over his eyeballs. ‘Den ve iss ruined for certain. Dot iss just the excuse the Erses have been wanting. Now they can call New Winchester, making like they was der real medical officer, and say the whole place is quarantined on suspicion of plague. So natural, no one else vill land for six weeks, so they not be quarantined too and maybe even get sick. Your owners is also notified and does not try to investigate what has happened. So for six weeks the Erses has a free hand here to do what they want. Und what they want to do means the ruin of all Grendel!’
    ‘My captain is still arguing vit’ de Erse general,’ said Herr Syrup. ‘I am yust de engineer. But I come down to see if I could save us anyt’ing. Even if ve lose money because of not delivering our cargo to Alamo, maybe at least ve get paid for de beer ve bring you. No?’
    ‘
Gott in Himmel!
Without vacation season business like Iwas counting on, where vould I find the moneys to pay you?’
    ‘I vas afraid of dat,’ said Herr Syrup.
    He sat drinking and smoking and trying to persuade himself that an Earthside job as assistant in a yeast factory wasn’t really so bad. Himself told him what a liar he was.
    The door opened, letting in a shaft of sun, and light quick steps were heard. A feminine voice cried: ‘Rejoice!’
    Herr Syrup rose clumsily. The girl coming down the stairs was worth rising for, being young and slim, with a shining helmet of golden hair, large blue eyes, pert nose, long legs, and other well-formed accessories. Her looks were done no harm by the fact that – while she avoided cosmetics – she wore a short white tunic, sandals, a laurel wreath on her head, and nothing else.
    ‘Rejoice!’ she cried again, and burst into tears.
    ‘Now, now,’ said Herr Syrup anxiously. ‘Now, now,
Froeken
… er, Miss – now, now, now, yust a minute.’
    The Martian had already gone over to her. ‘That is
nicht
so bad, Emily,’ he whistled, standing on tiptentacle to pat her shoulder. ‘There, there. Remember Epicurus.’
    ‘I don’t care about Epicurus!’ sobbed the girl, burying her face in her hands.
    ‘
Outis epoisei soi bareias cheiras
,’ said Sarmishkidu bravely.
    ‘Well,’ wept the girl, ‘w-well, of course. At least, I hope so.’ She dabbed at her eyes with a laurel leaf. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that – that – oh, everything.’
    ‘Yes,’ said the Martian, ‘the situation indubitably falls within the Aristotelian definition of tragedy. I have calculated my losses so far at a net fifty pounds sterling, four shillings and thruppence ha’penny per diem.’
    Wet, but beautiful, the girl blinked at Herr Syrup. ‘Pardon me, sir,’ she said tremulously. ‘This situation on Grendel, you know. It’s so overwreaking.’ She put her finger to her lips and frowned. ‘Is that the word? These barbarian languages! I mean, the situation has us all overwrought.’
    ‘Ahem!’ said Sarmishkidu. ‘Miss Emily Croft, may I present Mister, er—’
    ‘Syrup,’ said Herr Syrup, and extended a somewhat engine-grimy hand.
    ‘Rejoice,’ said the girl