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his own skin," he said-and then, reluctantly, "Well, maybe not just to save
himself. He was an idealist, I guess. But as far as I was concerned, it didn't
matter. He was my ADC, and he cost me promotion for twenty years."
He finished his drink. Brightening, he said, "Well, I don't want to keep her
waiting-" And then he stopped, but a little too late.
"Keep who waiting?" I asked, and he winced at the way I said it.
"Well, Robin," he said abjectly, "I didn't think you'd mind if I, uh, if
besides me there was-well-"
"A woman," I said, cleverly deducing. "We've got a stowaway on board."
He looked unrepentant. "She's just a canned deader, like you," he said-
diplomacy had never been Cassata's strength. "I just had them put her store on
along with mine. It won't take up much room, for God's sake, and I've only got
. .
He stopped there without quite saying just what he'd only got a little of
left. He was a little, just a very little, too proud to beg.
He didn't have to. "What's her name?" I asked.
"Alicia Lo. She's the one I was dancing with."
"Well," I said, "it's only for this one flight. All right. Go keep your friend
company."
I didn't add, "Just stay out of my sight." I didn't have to. That was
exactly what he was certain to do, and if I had been in his position I expect
I would certainly have done exactly the same thing myself.
And then there was nothing to get through but the interminable trip itself.
In the True Love, it takes only twenty-three minutes for a faster-than-
light trip from Wrinkle Rock to JAWS. That's actually real slow. In fact, it
isn't even faster than light, because eleven and a half of those minutes go
into getting up speed at one end, and eleven and a half to slowing down again
at the other; the actual trip time is, oh, a wink and a half~ Still, twenty-
three minutes isn't much-by meat-person standards.
We were not on Meat Standard Time. But, oh, how many milliseconds a single
minute holds.
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By the time we were well free of the asteroid, and Albert was setting course
for the satellite, I was (metaphorically) biting my metaphoric nails.
We keep True Love pretty much in the Earth solar system, hardly ever very far
from the Earth itself, and so I always have contact with all the many projects
I've got going on Earth to keep me amused-slow, yes, but only seconds slow,
not eternities. Not this time. This time there was the radio blackout. I could
have sent messages, all right (though Cassata forbade it furiously), but
answers I could have none.
What I had to entertain me was Essie, and Albert, and my memories.
Cassata wasn't much good. My memories are plentitudinous (they include, after
all, everything we could fit into True Love's datastores, which is a lot), but
the memories on top were largely Klara and largely sad.
Essie, on the other hand, is always rewarding . . . or almost always.
The only times she isn't rewarding is when I'm stuck in a tangle of irritation
or worry or misery, and I'm afraid that's where I was just then. After she'd
arranged our Johore surround, pretty palace overlooking the straits and
Singapore, and I just sat glumly, ignoring the Malaysian meal she'd ordered
up, she gave me one of her searching Oh-Godis-he-getting-gboopy-again looks.
"Something is bothering you," she asserted. I shrugged. "Not hungry, I guess,"
she offered, spearing a ball of rice with some kind of black things in it and
chewing lustily. I made the pretense of picking up something in a leaf and
chewing it. "Robin," she said, "have two choices. Talk to me. Or talk to
Albert-Sigfrid-any damn body, only talk. No sense twisting poor old head
around alone."
"I guess I will," I said, because it was true. I was getting gloopy again.
Albert found me back on Wrinkle Rock, or anyway the simulation of it I
had created to match my mood. I was on Level Tango, where the ships docked,
wandering around and looking at the places where people I knew had departed
from and never come back.
"You seemed a little depressed," he said apologetically. "I thought I'd just
see if there was anything I could do."
"Not a thing." I said, but I didn't tell him to go away. Especially since, I
was sure, Essie had sent him there.
He pulled out his pipe, lit it, puffed thoughtfully for a while, and then
said, "Would you like to tell me what is on your mind right now?"
"Not a bit," I said.
"Is it because you think I'm tired of hearing the same old things, Robin?" he
asked, and there was real affection in those make-believe eyes.
I hesitated, then took the plunge. I said, "What's on my mind is everything,
Albert. Now, wait, I know what you're going to say. You're going
to say which of all the things in everything is right on top. Okay. That's the
Foe. They scare me."
He said peacefully, "There is a lot to be afraid of in that context, yes,
Robin. The Foe certainly threaten us all."
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