Part 5 (1/2)

”You must have trained in powered s.p.a.cesuits at the Academy,” he said for lack of a more poetic rejoinder.

”Yes, but that's not the same. We had to stay near Luna's night side, to be safe from solar particles, and it bit a great chunk out of the sky. And then everything was so--regulated, disciplined--we did what we were ordered to do, and that was that. Here I feel free. You can't imagine how free.” Hastily: ”Do you use this machine often?”

”Well, yes, we have about twenty scooters at the Station. They're the most convenient way of flitting with a load: out to the mirrors to change acc.u.mulators, for instance, or across to one of the companion rocks where we're digging some ores that the Sword doesn't have. That kind of work.” Blades would frankly rather have had her behind him on a motorskimmer, hanging on as they careened through a springtime countryside. He was glad when they reached the main forward air lock and debarked.

He was still gladder when the suits were off. Lieutenant Ziska in dress uniform was stunning, but Ellen in civvies, a fluffy low-cut blouse and close-fitting slacks, was a hydrogen blast. He wanted to roll over and pant, but settled for saying, ”Welcome back” and holding her hand rather longer than necessary.

With a shy smile, she gave him a package. ”I drew this before leaving,” she said. ”I thought, well, your life is so austere--”

”A demi of Sandeman,” he said reverently. ”I won't tell you you shouldn't have, but I will tell you you're a sweet girl.”

”No, really.” She flushed. ”After we've put you to so much trouble.”

”Let's go crack this,” he said. ”The _Pallas_ has called in, but she won't be visible for a while yet.”

They made their way to the verandah, picking up a couple of gla.s.ses enroute. Bless his envious heart, Jimmy had warned the other boys off as requested. _I hope Avis cooks him a Cordon Bleu dinner_, Blades thought. _Nice kid, Avis, if she'd quit trying to ... what? ... mother me?_ He forgot about her, with Ellen to seat by the rail.

The Milky Way turned her hair frosty and glowed in her eyes. Blades poured the port with much ceremony and raised his gla.s.s. ”Here's to your frequent return,” he said.

Her pleasure dwindled a bit. ”I don't know if I should drink to that.

We aren't likely to be back, ever.”

”Drink anyway. Gling, glang, gloria!” The rims tinkled together.

”After all,” said Blades, ”this isn't the whole universe. We'll both be getting around. See you on Luna?”

”Maybe.”

He wondered if he was pus.h.i.+ng matters too hard. She didn't look at ease. ”Oh, well,” he said, ”if nothing else, this has been a grand break in the monotony for us. I don't wish the Navy ill, but if trouble had to develop, I'm thankful it developed here.”

”Yes--”

”How's the repair work progressing? Slowly, I hope.”

”I don't know.”

”You should have some idea, being in QM.”

”No supplies have been drawn.”

Blades stiffened.

”What's the matter?” Ellen sounded alarmed.

”Huh?” _A fine conspirator I make, if she can see my emotions on me in neon capitals!_ ”Nothing. Nothing. It just seemed a little strange, you know. Not taking any replacement units.”

”I understand the work is only a matter of making certain adjustments.”

”Then they should've finished a lot quicker, shouldn't they?”