Read John Maddox Roberts - Space Angel for Free Online

your sense of obligation, Achmed? It's the duty of us old hands to give the young a proper education."
    "Between your educating and Finn's tale-spinning, this kid will jump ship at the first port and never set foot on another. Back to work!"
    They scrubbed for another couple of hours. Once, they heard a bong from a timer on the bulkhead. Achmed jumped from his well, stripped and stepped under a sonic cleaner. When he was spotless, he opened a battered wall locker, withdrew and slipped on a white robe, then placed a small skullcap on the back of his head. Next, he removed a small rolled-up rug and spread it on the deck. He knelt and began hi s prayers, facing the thruster exit cones.
    When his devotions were over, the Arab changed back into his work clothes and picked up his scrub brush. An hour later, another bong sounded and Michelle's voice called from the intercom: "Torwald, Kelly, report to the galley."
    The two cleaned up and found Michelle in the galley, rolling out dough for pies. "The menu features roast beef and Yorkshire pudding today," she announced. "Kelly, get two kilos of dried apples out of the storeroom. Tor, start measuring out the sugar. The recipe's over there." She nodded toward a piece of paper clamped to the bulkhead over the range. Once they had established a work rhythm, Michelle began questioning Torwald and Kelly about their histories, standard procedure for a med officer: survivors of Arcturan Blight could not take penicillin, and quinine-4 would cause a harmless virus from Vega Prime to mutate into a deadly mankiller. The med officer needed detailed medical histories of all crew members, or disaster could result. Kelly presented no problems; he had been under State health care all his life and had never been exposed to alien diseases or conditions. On the other hand, Torwald's history was complex and colorful, and Michelle recorded occasional notes as he spoke.
    Once their physiological histories were taken care of, Michelle began to question them about their psychological histories. Kelly found himself unsure whether these were professional questions or the result of curiosity. He did notice that Michelle seemed far more interested in Torwald's background than in his own. Eventually she sent Kelly out to set the table, but he could still hear them talking.
    "Ever been married, Tor?"
    "Once. My wife was a scoutship officer like me. She was sent out to recon Toth before the landing. Only one ship of her wing returned, and it wasn't hers.
    We were expendable people in the scoutships. What about you?"
    "Twice. The first was a med officer in a hospital attached to the University of Lima. He was killed in a bombing before the Shield was developed. The other was an engineer on a troop transport. We met when I treated him for burns while I was serving aboard the Asklepios. He was killed a year later at Li Po." Neither wasted words on empty consolations. Everybody had lost someone in the War. If you tried to console everyone you met, little time would remain for anything else.
    After lunch, Torwald told Kelly to find a notebook before joining him in the supply room—there would be a good deal of paperwork for the boy to handle. Kelly headed back to his cabin. Notebooks and scribers had been among the supplies Torwald had dictated back on Earth. Returning with a pad, Kelly was crossing the hold when he noticed a motion from the corner of his eye. Holding tightly to the railing, he leaned over to peer into the dim, cavernous hold below.
    There it was again. Something darted across the bottom of the hold. Darted wasn't quite the word to describe the motion—it was more like a waddle, although very quick. And whatever made it was green. Intrigued, Kelly climbed over the railing and slid down a support strut to the bottom. He peered forward through the cylindrical chamber. Something was moving away from him on four feet. It seemed to be about the size of a small dog. Kelly approached the critter cautiously;