A Scatter of Stardust by E. C. Tubb Read Free Book Online Page B

you?”
    “Yes.”
    “But why? They pay, that I’ll admit, but you could earn more on any regular commercial run. What’s so special about this route?”
    “I like to see miracles,” said the captain simply.
    “Miracles?”
    “You will see.”
    *
    Deep in the bowels of the ship the Pilgrims were gathered. Unlike the captain and crew of the ship they were human; in fact it was all they had in common. Caris Weston, old, dried like a withered prune, her eyes brimming with the sense of a wasted life. Jud Murdock, crippled, his hands trembling on his cane. Joe Melish, young but bitter. Cynthia Hildergard, face pale and shoulders drooping; they and fifty more, all gathered in the bowels of this strange vessel, all human, all having that and one other thing in common.
    All human and without pride of race.
    “They sold me out,” said Murdock fretfully. “Gave all my life to building up that store and then those Rigelians came and sold me out. It takes the heart from a man a thing like that.”
    “...knew I didn’t have a chance the minute I saw that Vegan. An Earthman just isn’t wanted when they’ve got others to pick from...”
    “...said he loved me and then, when he found out just what I was, he didn’t want to know any longer...
    “...guess it’s bad enough not having a home world without them wanting to sit on a body...”
    The complaints sighed like a wind in the motionless air, a dirge of misery and lack of confidence; the sound of the persecuted who are persecuted only in their imagination; the fretful cry of those without hope and without pride.
    Don Carlin had heard it all before, so often before. These people were without faith and without purpose. He had found them, one by one, had talked to them and had persuaded them, one by one, to join him on this long trip out to the edge of the galaxy, far away from the warm, comfortable worlds.
    So many worlds. So many races each with its own home, and one race, scattered now, with no home of its own. It was a peculiar feeling this, to be of a race without a home. Earthmen were wanderers, merging into little groups, keeping, despite themselves, their own heritage. They were a race without a planet, resident on any world with the tolerance to accept them, humble with the need of accepting charity.
    And yet not all were humble. Some there were who could walk upright and lift their eyes to the stars and glow with the inner conviction that they shared something wonderful and noble, something no other member of any other race could share. And those who could do that were respected and were the happier because of it.
    A bell sounded and a voice requested his presence in the captain’s cabin. He sighed. Kleenahn, as usual, was curious. It must be almost time for the Pilgrims to visit the shrine.
    *
    The captain was curious but his politeness overrode his curiosity. He gestured Don to a chair and the liquid sibilants of their common language rustled the air like the sportive leapings of many fish.
    “You have been here many times, Earthman Carlin.”
    “As you well know, captain.”
    “As indeed I do.” Kleenahn paused, searching for the right thing to say. “A strange place, this world. You call it a shrine?”
    ^Yes.”
    “A shrine, if my understanding is correct, is the repository of something sacred.”
    “That is so.”
    “Something sacred to Earthmen?”
    “Yes.”
    There was a pause. The sounds of sportive fish died as they were touched by the wand of silence. Through the cabin port Carlin could see the figures of men, dwarfed by the distance, advancing over the low horizon toward the ship.
    “I know the history of this place,” said the captain abruptly. “Five thousand years ago it was discovered by men of your race. Their ship had wandered far from the regular space lanes, indeed, had wandered far from any inhabited sphere. There was no reason or logic for them to have come here. What brought them?”
    “An accident. Their ship was not as this