Read One Was Stubbron for Free Online

indulged his humor.
    The group disappeared. Carpdyke went sadly back to his office and sat there for a long, long time. He might have been studying the assignment chart. It reached twelve feet up and eighteen feet across and was a three-dimensional painting of two million light-years of Universe. Here and there colored tacks marked the last known whereabouts of scout ships which were possibly going about their duties collecting invaluable fuel data and possibly not.
    Carpdyke grew sadder and sadder until he looked like a bloodhound. His chief raymaster’s mate chanced to look up, saw it and very, very nervously looked down. Just what was coming, the chief knew not. He hoped it wasn’t coming to him. Carpdyke had been known to stoop so low as to rig a bridegroom’s quarters with lingerie the morning of the wedding. He had even installed Limburger cheese in a spaceship’s air supply. And once—well, the chief just sat and shuddered to recall it.
    The door opened casually and Bigby Owen Pettigrew, garbed newly in a project-blister-suit-less-mask, the fashion there on lonely Dauphiom where beards grew in indirect proportion to the number of women, entered under the cloud of innocence.
    The chief looked at Carpdyke, at Pettigrew and then at Carpdyke again. The assignment officer was growing so sad that a tear trembled on one lid. The chief stopped breathing but then when no guardian angel snatched Pettigrew away from there, the chief started again. No reason to suffocate.
    â€œHello,” said Pettigrew cheerfully.
    â€œYou’re new here, aren’t you?” mourned Carpdyke.
    â€œI just graduated from the UIT,” said Pettigrew. “My name’s Bigby. What’s yours?”
    â€œI’m Scout Commander Carpdyke, Bigby. We always like to see our new boys happy with the place. You like your hangars?”
    â€œOh, sure.”
    â€œYou found the transportation from the Intergalaxy comfortable and prompt?”
    â€œSure, sure.”
    â€œAnd your room? It has a lovely view?”
    â€œWell, now,” said Pettigrew thoughtfully, “I don’t think I noticed. But don’t you bother yourself, Commander. It suits me. I don’t want much.”
    The chief was beginning to have trouble swallowing. He went to the water cooler.
    â€œWell, now,” said Carpdyke, looking very, very mournful, “I am happy to hear that. But you’re sure you wouldn’t want me to change quarters with you?”
    â€œChange? Shucks, Commander, that’s awful nice of you but—well, no. My quarters suit me fine and no doubt you’re used to yours.”
    The chief sprayed water over the assignment map, dived straight out the door and kept going. A ululation of indescribable pitch faded away as he grew small across the rocket field.
    â€œDid he get sick or something?” asked Pettigrew.
    â€œA bit touched, poor man,” said Carpdyke. “Ninety missions to Nebula M-1894.”
    â€œPoor fellow,” said Pettigrew. But he braced up under it. “Now, then, Commander, is there anything you want me to solve or fix up? Anything you’re stuck on or deep-ended with? They put me through the whole ten years and I sure want to do well by the service.” He burnished a bit at the single jag of lightning on his lapel which made him an ensign, science corps, experimental.
    â€œHow were things at base? You left Universal Admiral Collingsby well, I presume.”
    â€œSure, sure,” said Pettigrew. “Read me my oath himself.”
    â€œYou and ten thousand other plebes by visograph,” muttered Carpdyke.
    â€œBeg pardon?”
    â€œNothing. Nothing. I was just wondering where we could best use your services, Pettigrew. We have to be careful. Don’t want to waste any talent, you know.”
    â€œSure not! I bet you have an awful time keeping up with problems, huh?” Vivid excitement manifested itself on Pettigrew’s homely face