Read Star Rigger's Way for Free Online Page A

tree, ignored the shell's warbling distress beacon—and concentrated solely on glutting himself to the limit on bramleaf and odomilk. When he finished he sank groaning into the dais, laid his head upon his tail, and slept.
    (My god, such violence! Have you no discipline? No wonder you can't coordinate worth a damn in the net.)
    (Ffsssss—hyou who kannoss kheef hyor mines h-where iss be-hlongss, Caharleel!)
    On awakening this time, he hissed in pain. His stomach was a hard knot of complaint; his fur was matted and disheveled; he wanted badly, oh so badly, to regurgitate, or, failing that, to die. He fumed in silent agony, his eyes watering, his thoughts orbiting one another in meaningless jokes. Could he maybe work the little knobs himself, with his big, clumsy paws? Yeh. Ooh, to throw the fiercest tantrum in history! But he could hardly move, for the abdominal cramps.
    Eventually his head cleared somewhat, and he turned grimly to the final challenge: arranging for himself a good, classical demise. He looked balefully at the two riffmar sssk ing in the nutrient bed, and his blood heated once more.
    But no; he must spare them, at least for the moment.
    Had he grounds for demise? Dereliction in space was embarrassing, to be sure. Depressing, infuriating, humiliating. But was it humiliation enough? It was hard to be certain, and he had little experience in such matters. What he really needed now, for a demise that would even put Corneph to shame, was to be perceived as being a victim rather than an idiot.
    (Demise? What do you mean, "demise"?)
    Later, mulling, and gnawing at his tail, he was startled by a CLUNGGG reverberating through the shell. And a buzzing outside—was there something out there? Someone? Fascinated, nervous, he moved over to the wall and listened. What, what? There were thumps , small thumps moving in a progression around the outside of the shell. Lord-o, now what? Was space itself going crazy?
    He listened more carefully, and extended the range of his thoughts beyond the inner shell. Why, there were the stars and space—too broil-damn much space!—and . . . an alien! He pulled back, sputtering, and then reached out again. A creature from another shell, a biped, enclosed in a form-fitting suit of some kind. Walking about on the outside of his, Cephean's, shell. Searching . . . for him?
    Blood rushed to his head, then ebbed. And suddenly the meaning came clear. The creature had heard the distress beacon—and who had activated that , anyway?—and he was here for a rescue!
    Now what better humiliation could be asked?
    Feeling suddenly much brighter, he sent the two riffmar to ready the airlock to receive the alien—and to prepare the space-balloon, since clearly they would be transferring to the alien's ship. While he , with assurance at last, began plotting a truly graceful demise.
    Carlyle broke into the memory. Cephean, you mean you came aboard with me . . . (vision of the cynthian and the two ferns, plus baggage, drifting across space in the flimsy clear bubble, squeezing with considerable prodding into Sedora 's airlock; Cephean clawing the bubble open like a plastic bag) . . . meaning from the start to . . . kill yourself?
    Fffssilly ssfhool! Hnow hyou haff h-made me ffssay iss!
    But can't you see I'm trying to help you get home again?
    Ffssthufid! H-noss h-my home-ss.
    Carlyle, facing the cynthian through a gauzy veil: Cephean, if we get out of this, you can find a way home. I'll help you. Is humiliation the only reason you're not cooperating? You want to scuttle my ship, destroy it, take me down with you? Wouldn't you rather go back—laugh at Corneph, make him look like the fool instead?
    Cephean lurched about in great agitation, almost crashing through to Carlyle's side of the veil: H-no, no! Noss Corneph hin mi-mind-ss! H-noss hafter thiss!
    Cephean, I didn't take you off your ship to embarrass you, or even just to save you. I needed help as badly as you did. There's no