The _Saarga_ was not like the ship that had brought Trehearne from
Earth. She was older and shabbier and clumsier, a great lumbering
beldame of a ship, with enormous capacity for cargo and no space at
all for passengers. Officers and crew were cramped into quarters
functionally reduced to the absolute minimum, and there were no such
luxuries as lounges and observation domes. But to Trehearne she was
a thing of beauty, of miracle and wonder. Every dent and scar on her
unlovely bulk-heads recorded a voyage to a nameless sun. The crammed
and odorous vaults of her belly were storehouses of exotic riches. She
was outbound for Hercules, and he was part of her. He was no longer
merely a hungry onlooker. He belonged. He worshipped her.
He saw her first lying hugely in the dock, her scored and pitted
hull-plates giving back a dull glint from the sun. He looked up at
her, and then around him at the tremendous clamor of the port, and
then he strode down along the walkway feeling ten feet high and happy
as a kid at a carnival. He reported aboard, was duly checked in and
assigned to quarters in a very small cabin with four very narrow bunks,
where he good-naturedly allowed himself to be elbowed into the least
desirable upper. His cabin-mates were all younger than he, but they
were veterans, and he was forced to admit that this was his first
professional voyage.
"Trehearne," said the dark-haired youngster in Lower Two, turning the
name over on his tongue and frowning. "Funny sort of name--I've heard
it somewhere."
The copper-haired youngster--the youngest--in Upper One, said, "I know.
My uncle was talking about him. He's the fellow they found on Earth.
Aren't you, Trehearne?"
"Yes."
The dark-haired youngster whistled. "Were you in luck! It was a
million-to-one chance you'd ever even meet another Vardda. What's it
like on Earth? I've never been there."
"It's all right," Trehearne said, "for Earthmen."
The first of the warning bells rang for take-off. They settled
themselves in the padded bunks, and the long, lean, cheerful-looking
man in Lower One, whose youth was already overlaid with many kinds of
experience, glanced up at Trehearne and said, "You're not used to this,
are you?"
"No." Trehearne's belly had contracted suddenly into a hard knot,
and his skin was cold with a clammy sweat. The agonies of that first
take-off returned to him full force. He knew this one would not be as
bad. Once the adjustment was made, you were all right. Everybody said
so. It didn't make any difference. He was scared.
The man in Lower One said quietly, "Just take it easy. By the way, my
name is Yann. Radar crew."
"Hello."
The second warning sounded. Trehearne's teeth shut together with a snap
and his jaw muscles stood out in ridges.