Buckman nodded. "I expected to. And I'd much prefer to work aboard Sinbad than a Navy ship. I remember trying to work aboard MacArthur. Everyone felt entitled to get in my way, block my sightings, move my equipment-"
"Renner, you can't keep up with us," Balasingham said.
Renner shrugged. "We won't be all that far behind. At worst, we're witnesses, we can report back. Your destruction will make prime-time news."
Bury scowled. "I suppose the Trujillo woman... yes, of course. She would have gone with us to the Eye, after all. We should be on our way now. Now. Allah is merciful. We may yet be there before the Moties. We must be there before the Moties."
3 Communications
In the name of Allah, most benevolent, ever merciful.
Say: I seek refuge with the Lord of men,
The King of men,
From the evil of him who breathes temptations into the
minds of men,
Who suggests evil thoughts to the hearts of men-
From among the djinns and men.
al-Qur'an
On their last night together, Kevin told Ruth, "I'd take you with me if I could find any kind of excuse. Good or bad."
"Would you?"
"Yeah. We're crowded as hell, you know. We've dropped part of the kitchen, we're carrying a drop tank..."
She wasn't buying it. "Love, when we get back into the Empire, it'll make the news. Contact me then? You've got my work number."
"I gave you mine."
She looked down at her sleeves. The three rings of a full commander had just been sewn on. "Of course we're likely to be in different solar systems."
And it really felt like good-bye.
From New Scotland to the Jump would take nearly two weeks. Agamemnon and Atropos started later, but were moving at two gravities of thrust; they would Jump just ahead of Sinbad. Sinbad could beat them there with the drop tank's extra fuel, but Kevin refused to subject Bury to more than one gee. He would have preferred less.
This trip wasn't like the voyage from Sparta. Sinbad felt like a different ship. Attitudes had changed.
With Mercer gone, the kitchen storage region could carry cargo more appropriate to their mission. It didn't matter much. Sinbad's kitchen was styled to feed Horace Bury: to create small, healthful meals rich in flavor for a man whose taste buds were almost dead of old age. Now that program served Renner, too. Renner could diet between suns, when fresh food was unavailable anyway. Blaine, a lord's son but also Navy, expected no better. Buckman never noticed what he ate, and as for Joyce Mei-Ling Trujillo...
"Ms. Trujillo, are you getting fed all right?"
"Lieutenant Blaine asked me that, too. I eat whatever's where the story is, Mr. Renner. I'd say you set a fine table, but-have you ever eaten streaker rat? By the way, you'll be calling me Joyce eventually, won't you? Start now."
Perhaps Bury derived some satisfaction from what Joyce didn't know she was missing. He made no great effort to avoid her; he wasn't agile enough. In her presence he could be affable, but he called her Trujillo.
And so the ship was settling down, and Kevin Renner was enjoying his freedom.
Freedom. Ridiculous. He was surrounded by people, by walls, by obligations... and yet this was his place of power. Horace Bury's ship; but then, he was Bury's superior officer in the Secret Service. Sinbad went where he willed... except that with the Empire of Man at stake, his will had best take Sinbad straight through to MGC-R-31.
Over the past quarter of a century Kevin Renner and Horace Hussein Bury had evolved routines and rituals. One was coffee after dinner.
"She is attractive enough," Bury said. He sipped at the thick, sweet brew. "I know planets where she could be sold at a high price." He chuckled softly. "Not as many as there once were, thanks to our efforts. Perhaps we could arrange to use her as bait."
"She'd be good at that. For a good enough story she'd volunteer," Renner said.
Bury fingered his beard and waited.
"Only guessing," Renner said. "I really haven't spent much time with her at all."
"So I noticed."
"Yeah. Well, put it down to complications. We've got all the time in the world just now, but that could change. Or not. Most likely thing is we spend a boring six months in an empty solar system until an Imperial fleet comes in and chases us out."
"If so, Miss Trujillo will be desperate for distractions," Bury said. "I would presume from anyone willing to provide them."
"Hmpf. Truth is, Horace, it feels good to be-unencumbered."
"The Devil he blew an outward breath, for his heart was free from care."
Renner grinned. "Something like that." And maybe she wants something I can't deliver.
"I cannot say Allah has not been merciful. It would not do to presume too much on His mercy," Bury said.
"And that's the truth. We'll be to the I-point soon enough. What's happening there could tear everybody's leisure all to hell."
"I still don't understand," the Honorable Frederick Townsend said. "And I don't think I ever will."
"I'm sorry," Glenda Ruth said. She looked around the ship's lounge. I think I know every rivet and seam. Hecate was not much larger than a messenger ship. She was fast, but not overly comfortable. Freddy Townsend had bought her for racing, not for long distance cruising. Compartments had been added for ship's stores and one servant, but everything was cramped. "I should have gone with Kevin-"
"You needn't start that again, either," Freddy said. "I suppose you could have gone with them, but why? I'm glad to do you the favor. I like doing things for you. As you must know. But-" Freddy looked up in irritation as Jennifer Banda came into the lounge. "Dinner in half an hour," he said. "Guess I'll get washed up."
Frederick Townsend insisted on dressing for dinner. It had seemed a bit silly at first, but at least it broke up the monotony. The ship was mostly automated, with only the ship's engineer, Terry Kakumi, as crew. The only servant was George, a retired Navy coxswain who served as cook, butler, valet, and sometimes piloted the ship as well. Having one nearly formal meal each day gave everyone something to do.
Jennifer waited until Freddy had left the lounge before she spoke. "I walk into something heavy?"
Glenda Ruth shrugged. "No heavier than usual. Glad you came in, though."
"You're driving that boy crazy," Jennifer said. "Sure you want to do that?"
"No, I'm not sure I want to do that."
"Want to tell me about it?"
"Not really. Yes. What Freddy is too polite to say is, ‘You went to bed with me when we took the trip after graduation, so why won't you sleep with me now?'"
"Oh. I didn't know. I mean, I know what's happened since we left Sparta. Or what hasn't happened. Glenda Ruth, no wonder he's going nuts! I mean-" Jennifer stopped.
"I know what he had every right to expect."
"All right, so why? Bad experience the first time?"
"No." Glenda Ruth's voice was very low and small. "Not a bad experience." Silence; then, "You've studied Moties."
Jennifer smiled. "But I was raised by an all-human orchestra."
"Right. I picked up attitudes from the Moties. Consider that I can refuse to mate. From twelve to seventeen years of age I just plain enjoyed that. Then, consider that I can refuse to get pregnant."
"Freddy?"
"Yes. Sure. I've known him since we shared a crib. And we had just under a month... which was just about right for both of us to get to know our bodies. Something I wasn't likely to learn from Moties. Jennifer, I wish to hell I could tell him all this."
Jennifer was folded up like a stick figure into her web chair. "Ruth, I haven't heard a problem yet."
"Sometimes it takes a while before I feel the vibes. Particularly with vague, murky attitudes. You know?" Glenda Ruth was turned away, looking at the universe in a picture-window display. "My parents don't think it's right to take a bed partner before I'm married, or at least engaged, but they're not sure, so I can live with that. Freddy's parents are sure, but I can live with that, too."