Tuf Voyaging by George R. R. Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

appreciative of women,” Haviland Tuf observed.
    “Appreciative? What am I supposed to appreciate?” she said angrily.
    Tuf made a steeple of his hands. “We are not without resources. To begin with, Kaj Nevis left us one functioning pressure suit,” he pointed out.
    “And no propulsion systems.”
    “Our air will last twice as long with our numbers diminished,” Tuf said.
    “But will still run out,” snapped Celise Waan.
    “Kaj Nevis and his cohorts did not use the Unquin battlesuit to destroy the
Cornucopia of Excellent Goods at Low Prices
after their exit, as well they might have.”
    “Nevis preferred to see us die a lingering death,” the anthropologist replied.
    “I think not. More likely, in point of fact, he wished to preserve this vessel as a last refuge should his plan to board the
Ark
somehow miscarry,” Tuf mused. “In the nonce, we have shelter, provisions, and the possibility of maneuver, however limited.”
    “What we have is a crippled ship that is rapidly running out of air,” said Celise Waan. She started to say something else, but just then Havoc came bounding into the control room, all energy and bounce, in hot pursuit of a bit of jewelry she’d sent rolling in before her. It landed by Celise Waan’s feet; Havoc pounced on it, and sent it spinning with a tentative swipe. Celise Waan yelped. “My glowstone ring! I’ve been looking for that! Damn you, you filthy thief.” She bent and snatched for the ring. Havoc closed with her, and she gave the cat a lusty blow with her fist. She missed. Havoc’s claws were more accurate. Celise Waan shrieked.
    Haviland Tuf was on his feet. He snatched up the cat and the ring, tucked Havoc safely under his arm, and handed the ring stiffly to its bleeding owner. “Your property,” he said.
    “Before I die, I swear I’m going to grab that creature by the tail and smash its brains on a bulkhead—if it has any brains.”
    “You do not sufficiently appreciate the virtues of the feline,” said Tuf, retreating to his chair. He soothed Havoc’s feelings as he had earlier soothed Mushroom. “Cats are most intelligent animals. In fact, it is well known that all cats have a touch of psi. The primitives of Old Earth were known to worship them.”
    “I’ve studied primitives who worship fecal matter,” the anthropologist said testily. “That animal is a filthy beast!”
    “The feline is fastidiously clean,” Tuf said calmly. “Havoc herself is scarcely more than a kitten, and her playfulness and chaotic temperament remain undiminished,” he said. “She is a most willful creature, and yet, that is but part of her charm. Curiously, she is also a creature of habit. Who could fail to be warmed by the joy she takes in play with small objects left lying about? Who could fail to be amused by the foolish frequency with which she loses her playthings beneath the consoles in this very room? Who indeed. Only the most sour and stony-hearted.” Tuf blinked rapidly—once, twice, three times. On his long, still face, it was a thunderstorm of emotion. “Off, Havoc,” he said, gently swatting the cat from his lap. He rose, then sank to his knees with a stiff dignity. On hands and knees, Haviland Tuf began to crawl about the room and feel beneath the control consoles.
    “What are you doing?” demanded Celise Waan.
    “I am searching for Havoc’s lost toys,” said Haviland Tuf.
    “I’m bleeding and we’re running out of air and you’re looking for
cat toys!
” she said in exasperation.
    “I believe I have just stated as much,” Tuf said. He pulled a handful of small objects out from under the console, and then a second handful. After thrusting his arm all the way back and patting about systematically, he finally gave up, gathered his cache, dusted himself off, and began to sort the prizes from the dust. “Interesting,” he said.
    “What?” she demanded.
    “These are yours,” he said to Celise Waan. He handed her another ring and two light