I didn’t feel too disappointed at being beaten; I hadn’t hoped for much more than a breather, anyway. I wondered why this fellow had abandoned his action station to hide there. The door was still shut. He must have been there all along, but I hadn’t seen him when I came in. He stood over me, wearing greasy overalls, and grinned down at me. He raised his hand. I was getting pretty indifferent to blows; I couldn’t feel them.
The hand went up, the man straightened and held a fairly snappy salute. “Sir,” he said. “Space’n first class Thomas.”
I didn’t feel like laughing or cheering or anything else; I just took it as it came.
“At ease, Thomas,” I managed to say. “Why aren’t you at your duty station?” I went spinning off somewhere after that oration.
Thomas was squatting beside me now. “Cap’n, you’re hurt, ain’t you? I was wonderin’ why you was down here layin down in my ’Sposal station.”
“A scratch,” I said. I thought about it for a while. Thomas was doing something about my chest. This was Thomas’ disposal station. Thomas owned it. I wondered if a fellow could make a living with such a small place way out here, with just an occasional tourist coming by. I wondered why I didn’t send one of them for help; I needed help for some reason....
“Cap’n, I been overhaulin’ my converter units, I jist come in. How long you been in here, Cap’n?” Thomas was worried about something.
I tried hard to think. I hadn’t been here very long; just a few minutes. I had come here to rest.... Then suddenly I was thinking clearly again.
Whatever Thomas was, he was apparently on my side, or at least neutral. He didn’t seem to be aware of the mutiny. I realized that he had bound my chest tightly with strips of shirt; it felt better.