Space Opera by Jack Vance Read Free Book Online

the Phoebus leaves Earth.”
    “Maybe, maybe not,” grumbled Roger. “If I were you, I’d get some sort of guarantee that this Gondar fellow won’t maroon us all out back of beyond — and that’s not sarcasm, but plain common-sense.”
    Dame Isabel’s patience was wearing thin. “I have every faith in Captain Gondar. In addition, I control a very large sum of money which ultimately he will receive. And in the third place if you fear so absurd a contingency, you need not accompany the tour.”
    “My concern is only for yourself and the tour,” protested Roger. “Naturally I’m looking out for every possible source of trouble.”
    “I have already done so. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some correspondence to take care of, and I must shuffle accommodations to make room for you.”
    “Oh I won’t require much room,” said Roger bluffly. “My secretary can work in Bickel’s office, which he won’t need anyway, and as for sleeping arrangements — well, just bunk us in anywhere.”
    Dame Isabel stared at Roger in astonishment. “What on earth are you talking about? If by ‘secretary’ you refer to that extremely subtle young woman I met at the space-port, you had better change your ideas decisively.”
    “She is an accomplished secretary,” said Roger sulkily, “and in addition she is my fiancée.”
    Dame Isabel made a set of fretful motions, as if troubled by her inability to express the inexpressible. Finally she said, “You fail to grasp a fundamental fact. This is a serious expedition, undertaken by persons dedicated to an artistic ideal, and by no means an amorous idyll.”
    Later that evening Roger called Madoc Roswyn by visiphone. At his news her delightful mouth dropped sadly. “Oh Roger, what a shame. Do you think she’ll change her mind?”
    “Not a chance. For some reason she’s taken a — well, not exactly aversion —”
    Madoc Roswyn nodded. “Women never seem to like me. Why, I don’t know. I never flirt or attract attention —”
    “It’s because you’re so utterly beautiful,” said Roger. “How you could ever agree to marry such an ordinary man as myself I’ll never understand.”
    “I don’t know what I’ll do while you’re gone,” sighed Madoc Roswyn. “Perhaps I’ll go to live in Paris; I have some friends there; I’d never be lonely.”
    “I’ll stay home from this idiotic expedition,” raved Roger. “I don’t care if I —”
    “No, Roger. It just wouldn’t work.”
    “Then, by golly, you’ll come along, if I have to stow you away!”
    “Oh Roger! Would you dare?”
    “Of course I’d dare! I’m the most daring hell-raising aunt-defier known to the humanoid universe, and if you don’t believe me I’m coming over to your apartment and make you believe me.”
    “I believe you, Roger — but can we get away with it?”
    “With what?”
    “Stowing me away.”
    Roger hesitated. “You’re serious?”
    “Yes.”
    Roger took a deep breath. “Very well. So be it.”

Chapter V
    The Phoebus was two hours in space. The opera company and the musicians stood staring rather wistfully back toward Earth. Dame Isabel kept to her cabin, suffering, so the rumor went, from acute space-sickness: a report lent credence by the frequent comings and goings of Dr. Shand, the ship physician.
    Adolph Gondar — now Captain Gondar — remained on the bridge with Logan de Appling, the personable young astrogator. Roger Wool was seen in several quarters of the ship. His pallor and extreme nervousness were ascribed to space-sickness. Bernard Bickel went here and there answering questions, calming nervous qualms and generally maintaining the morale of the company, while Sir Henry Rixon inspected the stowage of musical instruments, to make sure that the vibration of take-off had not damaged the two grand pianos.
    The first meal of the voyage was presently announced: a necessarily informal repast served cafeteria style. The mess-steward, noticing Roger passing a