20 Million Leagues Over the Sea Read Online Free PDF Page A

for a journey
such as this. Mrs. Brightman had given her specific instructions
for this kind of situation. Her hand stiffened in preparation to
sting his cheek with a hard slap when Dr. Pugh appeared over the
young man's shoulder.
    "Shoo, shoo! Off with you, cretin!" The much
taller naturalist pulled at the young man's ear, making him
grimace. "A scientist wouldn't be caught dead in a burlesque show,
you know that! Now go make yourself useful and swab the Oberth Deck
or something." He pushed the sailor down the hall and shouted after
him. "Or it's out the airlock with you!"
    Pugh watched the young man's retreating
elbows. "Pfffft. Booleans ." He shook his head. "Good Lord,
the people they let into space! You would think they would have had
some sort of screening for this venture." He turned toward Gemma,
folded his arms, and scowled down at her, as if he were just then
realizing to whom he was speaking. "And what credentials do you bring to the table, Miss Llewellyn?" Dr. Pugh
asked. "From whence does your dazzling fountain of geological
knowledge flow? And who will get you when you return? Oxford?
Trinity?"
    It certainly wasn't pleasant; this drilling
in front of a good portion of the crew that she would be living
with for the next couple of years was profoundly inappropriate. She
could not allow this to continue. With a sharp breath, Gemma drew
herself up to her full height of five feet, one and one-half
inches. She lifted her own narrowed eyes to look Dr. Pugh directly
in the face.
    "Brightman's Ladies' College," she
announced.
    He froze for a moment, and the sneer fell
from his lips. "Brightman," he said. His mouth twisted to the left,
then to the right. He swallowed, and his already narrow eyes closed
even tighter, as if examining her through a microscope. It was a
long moment before he spoke again. "As in, Mrs. Petunia Brightman?"
    "Yes."
    "The one that trains computers?"
    "And scientists, Dr. Pugh. The very
same."
    "Ah. I see."
    Pugh narrowed his eyes and grunted. His
sudden silence was quite disconcerting. His eyes flickered from
side to side as he confirmed that no one was within earshot.
    "First science briefing is tomorrow," he
said, with his voice hoarse and low, "two hours post-launch, in the
aft laboratory conference room on the Research Deck. Maps are by
the lifts. Don't be late, child, as I'm rather an exacting
taskmaster. In the meantime, I will be checking in on the rest of
the team. Look lively and stay sharp. Follow my lead, young Gemma,
and you may just make it back to Mrs. Brightman's second-best
parlor alive." He looked to her right and narrowed his eyes.
    "You there!" he shouted and pointed to
someone in the distance. "Be careful with that, lad! We want to
give the tentacle-heads the flu, not ourselves! Oh, for Heaven's
sake."
    He lumbered away at what for him must have
been a high rate of speed and muttered to himself. Gemma shook
inside. He knew Mrs. Brightman? That was certainly unexpected. Now
the question was, how much did he know? Captain Moreau's sudden
appearance in the space the scientist had evacuated pushed those
thoughts away.
    "Pray don't fret about him," he said. "His
bark is as sharp as his bite is toothless. Too many hours staring
into the innards of aliens, I suppose." The young commander tugged
at the hem of his jacket. "He may be the director of the Cohort,
but I am still the captain. I won't allow him to be too
rough with you."
    He extended his hand to his right and
gestured for someone to join them. "May I introduce you to another
of our ladies? Frau Elsa Knopf, our head of housekeeping and an
indispensable member of my crew. Her husband, Herr Knopf, is our
resident gardener. They are the first married couple in space! Frau
Knopf, may I present Miss Gemma Llewellyn, the geologist for the
Cohort."
    The lady inclined her head with an economy of
movement. "Fraulein."
    Frau Knopf was clad in a white no-nonsense
chemise with thin blue stripes and straight sleeves with a distinct
lack of