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Updated: June 11, 2025
What's the trouble?" Jeffers asked. "He's dead," said the Chief Physician's Mate. Leda Crannon was standing outside the cubicle that had been built for Snookums. Her back and the palms of her hands were pressed against the door. Her head was bowed, and her red hair, shining like a hellish flame in the light of the glow panels, fell around her shoulders and cheeks, almost covering her face.
He'd like to see your soul centred on Bramleigh Beeches: and I more than suspect they'd both prefer to keep you nearer home." Roy looked distressed. "Hard lines. I hadn't got to that yet. But it wouldn't be for always. And there's George and Jerry sprouting up." "I gather that George and Jerry are not precisely Roy " "Jeffers you old sinner! I can't flatter myself !"
He stood up and winked at Jeffers. "And thanks for listening while I bent your ear." "Any time at all, ol' amoeba. And if you ever feel you need some advice from an ol' married man, why you just trot right round, and I'll give you plenty of bad advice." "At least you're honest," Mike said. "Night."
Over to one side was Commander Jeffers, standing next to a white-faced Ensign Vaneski. Nearby were a chief non-com and three enlisted men. "Hullo, Mike," Pete Jeffers said as Mike the Angel came in. "What happened, Pete?" Mike asked. Jeffers gestured at the sprawled figure on the floor. "We came in here to search. We found him.
Jeffers was standing with his back to the door, facing the bank of instruments that gave him a general picture of the condition of the whole ship. Overhead, the great dome of the ship's nose allowed the gleaming points of light from the star field ahead to shine down on those beneath through the heavy, transparent shield of the cast transite and the invisible screen of the external field.
He looked at the others at the wardroom table Quill, Jeffers, von Liegnitz, Keku, Leda Crannon, and Mike the Angel. But he didn't really seem to be seeing them. "Ruined," he said. "Eighteen billion dollars' worth of work, destroyed completely. The brain has become completely randomized." He sighed softly. "It was all Vaneski's fault, of course. Theology."
"Will the Chief Physician's Mate report to Commander Jeffers in the maintenance tool room? Lieutenant Keku, dismiss your men to quarters and report to the bridge. Commander Gabriel, dismiss your men to quarters and report to Commander Jeffers in maintenance. All chief non-coms report to the ordnance room to turn in your weapons. All enlisted men return to your posts or to quarters."
When Mike had finished, one drink later, Peter Jeffers filled the glasses for the third time and leaned back in his chair. "Tell me one thing, ol' buddy, and think about it before you answer. If you had a chance to get out of it gracefully, would you take back what you said?" Mike the Angel thought it over. The sweep hand on the chronometer made its rounds several times before he answered.
Mechanically, he picked up two letters that lay awaiting him: one from his father, one from Jeffers, congratulating him, in rather guarded phrases, on his engagement to Miss Arden. It was the last straw. "Thou art with life Too closely woven, nerve with nerve intwined; Service still craving service, love for love ... Nor yet thy human task is done."
When I had gone about four miles I slackened up and let him overtake me, and we reached another train going to Kansas City fifteen minutes before starting time. The owner of the horses returned to town and told the story that he had fired at me, and that I was wounded and bleeding, and, he feared, would die. Jeffers came up to Kansas City the next day, and was astonished to see me alive.
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