"Marta Randall - The Captain and the Kid" - читать интересную книгу автора (Randall Marta)

The Captain and the Kid
by Marta Randall
The captain's taken to looking sneaky again. Usually, when
she pretends to help around the farm, she stands leaning
against a rake or staring out at the ridge of mountains to the
west. But lately she's made a show of looking down the valley
toward town, or out along the stretch of lake. I know the signs
by now, but there's nothing to be done. It comes around like
clockwork, I put up with it, it goes away for another eleven
months. I used to tell her that she should make an effort, work
the land, make the best of things, but I gave that up long ago.
Sure enough, this evening after supper she starts pacing
around the slap-dash kitchen, then stalks out into the yard.
She walks different, outside. Not disdainful, not up-nosed.
Just hates the earth, is all. She'd rather be upstairs.
Course, so would I, but at least I'm graceful about it.




"Not fair!" the captain shouts. Down comes the mug.
Break, splatter, mess. No great loss, ugly mug anyway.
Second evening of the sneaky-time, and I'm prepared with
mop, bucket, towels, broom, soap. I start to clean up.
"I ran that ship for them centuries, centuries, while they
were all asleep. D'you hear me, kid? You think they care I got
them off and got them back again? You think they even think
about it, kid? Do you?"
"Don't know," I say. Wring out the towel. "Expect not."
"Course not! They don't give a damn, no respect, no
consideration. I've done my share, damn it. Took 'em up,
brought 'em down. Ought to be left alone. Hate farming. Not
fair."
"Could make an effort," I say. "Home again, new
beginning. Everyone's labor needed. Important."
The captain makes a skeptical noise in her throat. "No
sense of history. Hate growing things. Pigsty. Unfair to make
me do it."
"I do it."
"Different, kid. Menial. Negligible."
"Menial!" I shout. Throw broken crockery in the fire. She's
gone too damn far, this time. "Twenty-five years upstairs!
Negligible!"
"I saved your life!" the captain roars, flings a bowl of stew
against the stove. "Broken creche-box, got you out, raised
you up, taught you all you know. Saved your life, kid!"
"And I saved yours! Leaky suit, shorted vanes, went out