Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

26 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION floor. “I was on the Scopas until the mate decided he didn’t like the idea of his jetmen swipin’ the sick bay’s alcohol,’’ he replied. “I got the list yesterday when we grounded.” “You got a home on Terra?” Garver questioned as he returned with the brandy. “No, suh, my folks is farmin’ in New Dakota, Venus. I guess I shoulda stayed home and helped with the crops.” Handing him the brandy, Garver sat back down. “How long you been in space?”’ “Two years, suh. Got on the League book when Ah was eighteen. Mah folks didn’t approve; said it wasn’t right for me to go skedaddlin’ all over Creation. Maybe they was right. Don’t look like Ah’m going to get back there for a while.”’ | “Tough luck,” Garver shook his head. “Kill off that brandy, pay your bill, and go see a dentist.” Bernotte drained the brandy in one swallow. “‘Ah can’t.” *““No money, huh?” — “Right.” “Well, Pll tell you, I need another bartender topside. Ever tend bar?” *“No. Ah can learn.” Garver reached over and pressed a switch. “‘Joe,’’ he told his bartender, “I’ve got a lad here who’s going to work off a bill. Crack the whip over him.” “Sure thing, boss. Send him up; I can use him.”’ Jerking his thumb at the door, Garver told Bernotte, “Report to Joe at the bar.” “What happens after Ah work it off?” Shrugging, Garver told him, “You can stay or not, as you please. Lots of guys here like you. Joe’s a three-time lister himself. We can use you.” _ Three weeks later, Garver was up in the bar seeing how Harvey was running the place. Joe had been lifted from the black list, and the little Venusian with the Old South accent had taken over. Business was slack, so Garver sat down by the north windows where he could watch the ships at White Sands and called Har- vey over for a chat. Harvey, knowing the boss would want it anyway, brought a ginger-high over with him. ‘“How do you like this job, Harvey?” Garver asked as the bartender sat down. “Getting along all right?” ‘Sure,’’ Harvey said with a grin. “It beats workin’.” “This isn’t work?” ““‘Naw, not when you've tried to run a thousand-acre farm on Venus, boss.” “Still want to go back?’’ Garver wondered as he raised the glass to his lips. Producing a_ toothpick, Harvey tossed it in his mouth and began to chew it. ““Mebbe,.mebbe. If Ah can ever get lifted from the black list, Ah’d like to kick around the System for a spell. Ah ain’t been nowhere but Venus, Luna, and here. Some day Ah’ll ship back out as jetman and get a look at these here other planets around us. Farmin’s O.K. fer some people; but Ah’d go back to it right now if Ah had the chance, and forget all this skedaddlin’ around.” Garver started to say something, but heard a familiar voice behind him. “Well, ’'ll be damned! You made it back after all!’ Tomaszewski, captain of the Timur- lane, slid into a chair at the table. Garver got to his feet. After the two old friends had appropriately greeted each other, Harvey. “Harvey, this is Captain Tomaszewski,’’ he told the jetman- bartender. _ “Bring him a drink, and anything’ S on the house for him—any time.” CONMIEDOOKS Garver motioned to com