Taylor was nearest the door. He stuck his head out, looked up and down the passageway outside. “Any braid around?” he asked.
Heming shook his head. “The officers are all up forward. Just gave me the video-news wire for today. Holy Wodo, I expected everybody off watch to be waiting here for it.”
Taylor said, “We got two shows today, Jak. And everybody but us four is watching the second one.”
Heming didn’t get it. Scowling questioningly at them, he went to the projector and began to insert the wire.
Woodford, 1st Signalman, explained. “Rosen and Johnson are having it out with stun guns down in the tract-torpedo room.”
The space rifleman stared. “A fight! You mean that they’re having a fight?”
Taylor said, “That’s right.” He seemed pleased about it. “A fight it is. The screwy makrons got into an argument about Kathy and they decided to have it out. The Doc is refereeing the thing. He made ’em turn the stun guns down so they can’t hurt each other too much.”
“Doc Thorndon?” That was as surprising as the fact that a fight was taking place at all. “That doesn’t sound like the Doc; he’s the one that usually cools everything off.”
“Let’s see the wire,” Woodford complained. “Now that I think about it, I’m sorry I didn’t go down and see the fight. It’s just that I can’t wait to see whether or not they got this Jackie Black yet.” He shook his head in reluctant admiration. “Now, there’s a guy for you. Slick as they come, and tough as they come, too.”
Taylor added, “They’ll get him. Just wait and see. The Solar System Bureau of Investigation gets them all, sooner or later. They’ll—”
Heming snapped, “Like kert they will! You just never hear about the guys they don’t catch, they don’t give them no publicity. Ten credits says they haven’t caught Black by the time we end this here trip.”
Taylor said sourly, “You know gambling isn’t allowed in space.”
“Put up, or shut up. I say they won’t catch Jackie Black by the time we get back.”
Taylor flushed angrily. “All right, all right. I’ll just take that.”
“Let’s see the wire and knock off all this argument,” somebody else put in.
The news video began to flash and they lapsed into silence.
* * * *
In the brief darkness of the shadow of a space rifle, Mart Bakr whispered hurriedly, urgently, “I could come to your room later, while Dick is on watch and while Johnny Norsen is sleeping. We—”
“Why, Martie,” she said scoldingly, but keeping her voice low. “I…I think you’re insulting me.”
He protested, vehemently as possible in his whisper.
* * * *
On watch in the control room Petersen said to Ward, “You know, when she first came aboard, that is, when we first caught her, Kathy didn’t look so good to me. Nice girl, you know, but not what I’d call pretty. But these last six months with her being the only gal on board—”
Ward said coldly, “Just what do you mean, Petersen?”
The other shrugged. “You know, like that old, old gag they used to tell about the soldiers in New Guinea in the second—or was it the third or fourth?—World War. The one soldier’d say to the other one, ‘You know, the longer I’m here the less black they look to me.’”
Ward spun him around and grasped his coverall front. He bit out between his teeth, “Listen, you makron, you’re talking about Kathy, understand! Watch your damned mouth!”
Kathy, Doc Thorndon, Mart Bakr, Johnny Norsen and Dick Roland sat in the officer’s wardroom, preparatory to showing that day’s news wire. In spite of the importance of this one break in the day’s monotony, the eyes of all three of the younger men were on the girl.
Used, by this time, to the attention, Kathy was able to ignore it. She said, “Just who is this Jackie Black that you’re always talking about?”
“The last of the Robin Hoods,” Doc Thorndon said softly.
“Robin Hoods?” she frowned.
“Bet you five credits it’s something he dug up out of one of his old books,” Johnny Norsen snorted.
“You’d win then,” Doc said. He turned his face to Kathy to explain. “The original Robin Hood was an outlaw who robbed from the rich but gave to the poor—a very long time ago. Since then, every time a bandit makes a practice of being kind to the poor, they’ve called him a Robin Hood.” He added, dry of voice, “Very seldom do they deserve the name.”
She was interested. “Oh? Well, does this…what was his name, again…?”
“Jackie Black,” Mart Bakr offered. As usual, he was sitting on the edge of his chair, eyes riveted on the girl to the point that should have caused acute embarrassment.
She went on, “Yes, this Jackie Black—that’s a silly name, isn’t it? Does he deserve the name, Robin Hood?”
Doc Thorndon shrugged, wrinkling up his cheerful face. “I suppose you’d say he does. Probably the principal reason he’s eluded the authorities for so long. He has had considerable support from the rank and file citizens.”
Johnny Norsen said, “Well, what is it that he got this time? They’ve got half the police of three planets on his trail and as far as I can understand, all he stole were some papers.”
Dick Roland said, “I heard some rumors, just before we left Terra, that the papers were inside dope on a bunch of the bureaucrats—really incriminating. The story is that Jackie Black figures on blackmailing them.”
Doc Thorndon grunted. “Doesn’t sound like the sort of thing he’d do. Blackmail is a pretty nasty business.”
Mart Bakr said, “Well, let’s get on with this news wire. Maybe they’ve caught him by now.”
* * * *
She was on her way to the crew’s mess, but Dick Roland found time to slip a note into her hand, flushing furiously as he did. She winked, infinitesimally, but hurried her way past him.
His heart thumped over twice, then curled up in its corner and glowed heat. Did that wink mean…?
Kathy entered the crew’s mess and smiled at the assembled men who were off duty.
“All right,” she said cheerfully, “it’s your day—or night, whatever it is—who can tell on a space ship? What shall we do this time, boys? Do you want to draw lots to see who plays cards with me?”
One of the spacemen growled, “I don’t see why the officers get your company the same amount of time we do. There’s five of them and forty of us. It ain’t fair.”
She looked at him in mock reproach. “Why don’t you get up a petition?”
Woodford muttered, “On a space cruiser, on a mission? They’d string us up by the thumbs.”
Kathy tossed her head and laughed at him. “You see. You don’t really care. My company isn’t nearly as important to you as you’d make believe.”
Jak Heming scrambled to his feet and faced the rest. “She’s right! Why don’t we? Why should forty of us have to share her time equally with only five? It’s not as though this was an ordinary situation. How often do you have women aboard a space ship? I say, let’s all sign a petition. We should have Kathy’s company six days out of the week, they, only once.”
“Boys, boys,” she laughed.
But they continued to mutter among themselves and the sounds of their voices went higher.
*