Tin Woodman Read Free Page B

who caused that scene last month about me. He hates even my shadow. He won’t let me near him!” complained Mora.
    “Subject will be in a state of sedation. Besides, he’s important—command crew. Consider it a challenge.”
    “Damn!” She switched off the intercom angrily. I’m a joke to them. Less than a person—a function of the ship. A biological mechanism. Frustration welled up in her. She started to take two stress pills, thought better of it. Reluctantly, she signaled the door open and abandoned the shelter of her cabin, walking out into the cold corridors of the Pegasus.
    Class two alert aboard a starship called for overlapping shifts, resulting in unusually heavy traffic between decks and duty stations. Therefore, Mora was not surprised that she had to wait several minutes at the lift tube before a platform arrived that stopped on the bridge. When it finally did arrive, however, there was only one person on it—Leana Coffer, the Pegasus’ executice officer. She smiled politely as Mora stepped onto the platform.
    Leana Coffer was a native of Earth, but had spent much time on Crysor and Deva, the two planets which held an equal place with Earth in the Triunion, and therefore lacked a recognizable Earth accent. She was a small, thin, gray-haired woman—so thin, in fact, that her maroon-and-gold command uniform hung on her in deep folds, like a robe. Coffer, during her planetary travels, had assumed many of the finer qualities of the other two human races she had visited: discipline, tempered by a measure of humaneness. Mora respected this; of all the crew of the Pegasus, she could feel most comfortable in Leana Coffer’s presence. Nevertheless, Coffer had an aloof quality, a faint preoccupied standoffishness in her character that Mora did not care to penetrate, for fear of discovering something ugly underneath.
    “The specialist Darsen requested from Earth has arrived,” Coffer said. Mora could read urgency, coupled with curiosity, behind the exec’s words. “I was just on the hangar deck, inspecting the ship he came in.” She frowned. “Do you know, they tacked a Null-R Field Generator onto an old, one-man mail carrier, and sent him in that? God knows what we’re going to do with it—wretched shape, and we can’t use many of its components. It sure won’t get back; I’m surprised it made the trip at all. I guess we’ll have to dump it—the extra mass isn’t exactly good for our Null-R’s.” She shrugged. “I suppose they couldn’t reroute a service vessel quickly enough to satisfy the brass. Still, they must have been desperate.”
    “Is he well?”
    “Is who—oh, the specialist?” Coffer nodded. “Yes. Like I said, surprisingly the ship held up. I’ve not met him yet, but . . . I understand he’s a Talent.” Coffer hesitated a moment, seeing Mora’s brightening. “I’d better warn you,” she added, “that Darsen is still not pleased with that.”
    The platform finally reached the large, semi-circular room at the heart of the Pegasus from which all ship’s operations were supervised—the bridge. Coffer, closely followed by Mora, strode off the platform and toward the wide, heavy metal instrument desk which was anchored against the back wall of the room. Mora felt her anxiety grow as they approached the console and the figure seated behind it whose huge, blond head was half engulfed by the lens element of a private tape-viewer. “Lieutenant Commander Coffer, reporting as ordered, sir,” Coffer announced. Mora stood silently, nervously, a few paces behind the exec.
    Darsen looked up from the viewer, waving Coffer a careless salute. His dark eyes were narrowed, the thin lips of his catfish mouth drawn tight against his teeth. Mora could read his emotions too clearIy—a jumble of frustration, suspicion, and anger rising so strongly as to hamper his reason. Cautiously, Mora moved toward him. This is my duty, she thought. This is part of the reason I’m aboard this ship. Yet