Starman Jones Read Online Free PDF Page B

inch—”
    “Don’t even think about it. At top speed I can’t get her down to five inches.”
    “But what makes her go ?”
    “It’s a phase relationship. The field crawls forward and Molly tries to catch up—only she can’t. Don’t ask me the theory, I just push the buttons.” Red struck a cigarette and lounged back, one hand on the tiller. “Better get in the bunk, kid. Check-point in forty miles.”
    The bunk was thwartships abaft the control compartment, a shelf above the seat. Max climbed in and wrapped a blanket around himself. Red handed him a cap. “Pull this down over your eyes. Let the button show.” The button was a teamster’s shield, Max did as he was told.
    Presently, he heard the sound of wind change from a soft roar to a sigh and then stop. The freighter settled to the pavement and the door opened. He lay still, unable to see what was going on. A strange voice said, “How long you been herding it?”
    “Since breakfast at Tony’s.”
    “So? How did your eyes get so bloodshot?”
    “It’s the evil life I lead. Want to see my tongue?”
    The inspector ignored this, saying instead, “Your partner didn’t sign his trick.”
    “Whatever you say. Want me to wake the dumb geek?”
    “Umm…don’t bother. You sign for him. Tell him to be more careful.”
    “Right.”
    The Molly Malone pulled out and picked up speed. Max crawled down. “I thought we were sunk when he asked for my signature.”
    “That was on purpose,” Red said scornfully. “You have to give them something to yap about, or they’ll dig for it.”
    Max liked the freighter. The tremendous speed so close to the ground exhilarated him; he decided that if he could not be a spaceman, this life would not be bad—he’d find out how high the application fee was and start saving. He liked the easy way Red picked out on the pavement ahead the speed line that matched the Molly ’s speed and then laid the big craft into a curve. It was usually the outermost line, with the Molly on her side and the horizon tilted up at a crazy angle.
    Near Oklahoma City they swooped under the ring guides of the C.S.&E. just as a train went over—the Razor , by Max’s calculations. “I used to herd those things,” Red remarked, glancing up.
    “You did ?”
    “Yep. But they got to worrying me. I hated it every time I made a jump and felt the weight sag out from under me. Then I got a notion that the train had a mind of its own and was just waiting to turn aside instead of entering the next guide ring. That sort of thing is no good. So I found a teamster who wanted to better himself and paid the fine to both guilds to let us swap. Never regretted it. Two hundred miles an hour when you’re close to the ground is enough.”
    “Uh, how about space ships?”
    “That’s another matter. Elbow room out there. Say, kid, while you’re at Earthport you should take a look at the big babies. They’re quite something.”
    The library book had been burning a hole in his rucksack; at Oklahoma City he noticed a postal box at the freight depot and, on impulse, dropped the book into it. After he had mailed it, he had a twinge of worry that he might have given a clue to his whereabouts which would get back to Montgomery, but he suppressed the worry—the book had to be returned. Vagrancy in the eyes of the law had not worried him, nor trespass, nor impersonating a licensed teamster—but filching a book was a sin.
    Max was asleep in the bunk when they arrived. Red shook him. “End of the line, kid.”
    Max sat up, yawning. “Where are we?”
    “Earthport. Let’s shake a leg and get this baby unloaded.”
    It was two hours past sunrise and growing desert hot by the time they got the Molly disgorged. Red stood him to a last meal. Red finished first, paid, then laid a bill down by Max’s plate. “Thanks, kid. That’s for luck. So long.” He was gone while Max still had his mouth hanging open. He had never learned his friend’s name, did not even know