Triplanetary - E. E. Smith (phonics reader TXT) 📗

each large platter contained a fish fully a foot long, raw and whole, garnished tastefully with red, purple, and green strands of seaweed!

Clio looked once, then gasped, shutting her eyes and turning away from the table, but Costigan flipped the three fish into a platter and set it aside before he turned back to the visiplate.

“They’ll go good fried,” he remarked to Bradley, signaling vigorously to Nerado that the meal was not acceptable and that he wanted to talk to him, in person. Finally he made himself clear, the table sank down out of sight, and the Nevian commander cautiously entered the room.

At Costigan’s insistence, he came up to the visiplate, leaving near the door three alert and fully-armed guards. The man then shot the beam into the galley of the pirate’s lifeboat, suggesting that they should be allowed to live there. For some time the argument of arms and fingers raged⁠—though not exactly fluent conversation, both sides managed to convey their meanings quite clearly. Nerado would not allow the Terrestrials to visit their own ship⁠—he was taking no chances⁠—but after a thorough ultra-ray inspection he did finally order some of his men to bring into the middle room the electric range and a supply of Terrestrial food. Soon the Nevian fish were sizzling in a pan and the appetizing odors of coffee and browning biscuit permeated the room. But at the first appearance of those odors the Nevians departed hastily, content to watch the remainder of the curious and repulsive procedure in their visiray plates.

Breakfast over and everything made tidy and shipshape, Costigan turned to Clio.

“Look here, girl; you’ve got to learn how to sleep. You’re all in. Your eyes look like you’ve been on a Martian picnic and you didn’t eat half enough breakfast. You’ve got to sleep and eat to keep fit. We don’t want you passing out on us, so I’ll put out this light, and you’ll lie down here and sleep until noon.”

“Oh, no, don’t bother. I’ll sleep tonight. I’m quite.⁠ ⁠…”

“You’ll sleep now,” he informed her, levelly. “I never thought of you being nervous, with Bradley and me on each side of you. We’re both right here now, though, and we’ll stay here. We’ll watch over you like a couple of old hens with one chick between them. Come on; lie down and go bye-bye.”

Clio laughed at the simile, but lay down obediently. Costigan sat upon the edge of the great divan holding her hand, and they chatted idly. The silences grew longer, Clio’s remarks became fewer, and soon her long-lashed eyelids fell and her deep, regular breathing showed that she was sound asleep. The man stared at her, his very heart in his eyes. So young, so beautiful, so lovely⁠—and how he did love her! He was not formally religious, but his every thought was a prayer. If he could only get her out of this mess⁠ ⁠… he wasn’t fit to live on the same planet with her, but⁠ ⁠… just give him one chance, God⁠ ⁠… just one!

But Costigan had been laboring for days under a terrific strain, and had been going very short on sleep. Half hypnotized by his own mixed emotions and by his staring at the smooth curves of Clio’s cheek, his own eyes closed and, still holding her hand, he sank down into the soft cushions beside her and into oblivion.

Thus sleeping hand in hand like two children Bradley found them, and a tender, fatherly expression came over his face as he looked down at them.

“Nice little girl, Clio,” he mused, “and when they made Costigan they broke the mold. They’ll do⁠—about as fine a couple of kids as old Tellus ever produced. I could do with some more sleep myself.” He yawned prodigiously, lay down at Clio’s left, and in minutes was himself asleep.

Hours later, both men were awakened by a merry peal of laughter. Clio was sitting up, regarding them with sparkling eyes. She was refreshed, buoyant, ravenously hungry and highly amused. Costigan was amazed and annoyed at what he considered a failure in a self-appointed task; Bradley was calm and matter-of-fact.

“Thanks for being such a nice bodyguard, you two.” Clio laughed again, but sobered quickly. “I slept wonderfully well, but I wonder if I can sleep tonight without making you hold my hand all night?”

“Oh, he doesn’t mind doing that,” Bradley commented.

“Mind it!” Costigan exclaimed, and his eyes and his tone spoke volumes.

They prepared and ate another meal, one to which Clio did full justice. Rested and refreshed, they had begun to discuss possibilities of escape when Nerado and his three armed guards entered the room. The Nevian scientist placed a box upon a table and began to make adjustments upon its panels, eyeing the Terrestrials attentively after each setting. After a time a staccato burst of articulate speech issued from the box, and Costigan saw a great light.

“You’ve got it⁠—hold it!” he exclaimed, waving his arms excitedly. “You see, Clio, their voices are pitched either higher or lower than ours⁠—probably higher⁠—and they’ve built an audio-frequency changer. He’s nobody’s fool, that lizard!”

Nerado heard Costigan’s voice, there was no doubt of that. His long neck looped and twisted in Nevian gratification; and although neither side could understand the other, both knew that intelligent speech and hearing were attributes common to the two races. This fact altered markedly the relations between captors and captives. The Nevians admitted among themselves that the strange bipeds might be quite intelligent, after all; and the Terrestrials at once became more hopeful.

“It isn’t so bad, if they can talk,” Costigan summed up the situation. “We might as well take it easy and make the best of it, particularly since we haven’t been able to figure out any possible way of getting away from them. They can talk and hear, and we can learn their language in time. Maybe we can make some kind of a deal with them to take us back to our own system, if we can’t make a break.”

The Nevians being as