Ethan of Athos by Lois McMaster Bujold Read Free Book Online Page B

alcoholic smell of the beverages, these men must be off-duty altogether. It was some sort of recreational facility, then, though it resembled an Athosian club not at all. Ethan wondered wistfully if one could get artichoke beer here. Being Stationer, it would more likely be based on algae or something. He suppressed a homesick twinge, moistened his lips, and walked boldly up to a group of half-a-dozen men in color-coded coveralls clustered around the counter. Stationers must be used to seeing Transients far more bizarrely dressed than his plain casual Athosian shirt, jacket, trousers, and shoes, but for a moment he wished for the doctor's whites he wore at the Rep Center, all clean and crisp from the laundry, that always lent him their reassuring sense of official identity.
    “How do you do,” Ethan began politely. “I represent the Bureau of Immigration and Naturalization of the Planet Athos. If I may, I'd like to tell you about the pioneering opportunities for settlement still available there --”
    The sudden dead silence of his audience was interrupted by a large worker in green coveralls. “Athos? The Planet of the Fags? You on the level?”
    “Can't be,” said another, in blue. “Those guys never stick their noses off their home dirtball.”
    A third man, all in yellow, said something extremely coarse.
    Ethan took a breath and began again, valiantly. “I assure you, I am indeed on the level. My name is Ethan Urquhart; I am myself a doctor of reproductive medicine. A crisis has arisen recently in our birth rate -- “
    Green-coveralls gave a bark of laughter. “I'll bet! Let me tell you what you're doing wrong, buddy --”
    The coarse one, from whom alcoholic esters were wafting in high concentration, said something depressingly one-track. Green-coveralls chortled and patted Ethan familiarly on the stomach. “You're in the wrong store, Athosian. Beta Colony's the place to go for a change-of-sex operation. After that, you can get knocked up in no time.”
    One-track repeated himself. Ethan turned to him, his outrage and confusion taking refuge in stiff formality. “Sir, you seem to have some sadly narrow preconceptions about my planet. Personal relationships are a matter of individual preference, and entirely private. In fact there are many communes, strict interpreters of the Founding Fathers, who take vows of chastity. They are highly respected --”
    “Yeech!” cried Green-coveralls raucously. “That's even worse!” A roar of laughter went up from his co-workers.
    Ethan felt his face flush. “Excuse me. I am a stranger here. This is the only place I've seen on Kline Station that is free of women, and I thought some reasonable discourse might be possible. It's a very serious --”
    One-track made a loud remark in the same vein.
    Ethan wheeled around and slugged him.
    Then froze, horror-stricken at his own dreadful breach of control. This wasn't the behavior of an ambassador -- he must apologize at once --
    “Free of women?” One-track snarled, scrambling back to his feet, his eyes red and drunken and feral. “Is that why you came in here -- bloody procuring? I'll show you --”
    Ethan found himself secured abruptly from behind by two of One-track's burlier friends. He trembled, suppressing a terrified impulse to struggle and break free. If he stayed cool maybe he could still --
    “Hey, fellows, take it easy,” Green-coveralls began anxiously. “He's obviously just a transient --”
    The first blow doubled Ethan over, his breath whistling between clenching teeth. The two pinioning him straightened him up again.” -- what we do to your type,” wham! “around here!”
    Ethan found he had no breath left with which to apologize. He hoped desperately One-track wasn't going to make a very long speech. But One-track continued, punctuating Ethan regularly.
    “-- bloody -- damned -- nosing around our --”
    A light, sardonic alto voice interrupted. “Aren't you a little worried by the odds? What if he