“One more thing. How did you manage to pay for this communication, anyway?”
“Through a gift from a friend,” Ethan muttered dazedly.
“Ah. A very good friend indeed. Well, I have enjoyed our little conversation immensely, yes, immensely. Perhaps some day circumstances will allow you to visit Moth and we can meet in person. Lovely place, Moth. All the amenities with none of the concomitant restrictions and plenty of room for a man to stretch his legs as well as his mind.”
“Sure.” You wouldn’t want to risk freezing your precious backside by coming out here, of course, Ethan thought. If he’d known Maxim Malaika better, he wouldn’t have thought that. Or maybe he would have. He was mad: at Malaika, and at himself.
“Good-bye then, Fortune. Kwa heri. I’ll be looking forward to reading that report.”
The screen filled with static, then blanked. The operator fiddled with a few instruments, then swiveled in his chair to regard them both. “Transmission broken at the other end. Anything else?”
Unable to reply, Ethan simply shook his head as he stood. And he thought he was a pretty good salesman. The operator unsealed the bubble, letting them out. The line of waiting bureaucrats gaped at them as they strode silently out into the corridor.
“There now, young feller-me-lad, everything’s going to turn out all right.” September put a comforting arm around Ethan’s shoulders.
“Sure it is. For Malaika.”
“What about the money?”
“Money can’t buy happiness, Skua.”
“Well now, lad, it appears our philosophies differ on that point. You have to admire your boss. Made the whole thing seem as much your idea as his. He never actually gave you the choice to make.”
They turned a bend in the corridor. “The raise and the promotion are gratifying, sure. I just wish they applied on a slightly more benign world.” He nodded toward one of the insulated windows at the perpetual snow and ice outside.
“What’s this? Losing your affection for good ol’ Tran-ky-ky? I thought you’d feel right at home here by now, feller-me-lad. It ain’t as though you’re going to be skidding across the ice in the Slanderscree for the next few years. You’re going to have underlings to do the fieldwork for you while you sit back here in the commercial building in your nice warm office, staring at entertainment tridees and reading good books. With the deep-space beam in place you don’t have to feel cut off from what’s happening in the rest of the Commonwealth. There’ll be news, and new visitors—maybe you can hire a few competent young ladies to help you out—and in a few years, if all goes well here, you’ll get yourself boosted over to Paris or some place soft.”
“You make it all sound so reasonable and inviting. You sure you don’t work for Malaika on the sly?”
“Not likely, lad. And if the Tran qualify for associate status, you’ll be able to use a skimmer when you do have to make checks on your people out in the field. Your promotion will be good for you and good for our friends.”
“If it’s all so wonderful, why don’t you call Malaika back and offer to take the job?”
September’s eyes widened. “What, d’you think I’m crazy? I’m getting out of here on the next ship!”
II
EVERY BUILDING AT THE outpost where humans could expect to meet with Tran was equipped with a transition room, a chamber where the temperature was lowered to just above freezing. It enabled humans to talk unburdened by survival suits, while the Tran found it bearably tropic; a climate where different races from different temperatures could get together. Hunnar Redbeard was to meet them here. They waited in the corridor for the Tran to arrive.
Maybe Skua was right. The decision had been made. Nothing to gain from moping and moaning about his fate. There were plenty of people who would gladly have traded places and opportunities with him. And if he changed his mind, he could quit anytime. Sure he could. Just throw away his job, his career, his seniority within the House, and, as Malaika had so irresistibly put it, the chance of a lifetime for someone his age.
“At least I’ll have one old friend to keep me company.”
“Oh, you’ll make plenty of friends here,” September readily agreed. “Not all of them are likely to be as stiff-necked and tight-assed as that bunch back in communications. You’ll strike up all sorts of friendships as you get to meet the personnel.”
“I wasn’t talking about new friendships.”
“What’s that?” The giant eyed him askance. “Whoa now, feller-me-lad, you know better. When the Spindizzy settles herself in orbit, I’m up and away for Alaspin, I am. For Alaspin and a warm climate and the understanding solicitudes of a lady friend.”
“What was all that then about Tran-ky-ky’s wonderful opportunities and its delightful people?”
“All true, all true, young feller-me-lad, and just think of the good you’ll sip from that glass. I’d gladly stay and keep you company save for my prior obligations.”
“What obligations? A two-year-old half promise to join some archaeologist on a distant world? She’s probably forgotten all about you by now.”
“Ah, now, feller-me-lad, there you’re mistaken. Those who meet old Skua don’t forget him so fast, and a promise is a promise even if I am to be a bit late fulfilling it.”
Ethan nodded disgustedly. “That’s it then? You’re just going to run out on me?”
“Now, lad.” September looked hurt. “I’m not running out on you. You’ve chosen to stay here. You can still leave with me if you want to.”
“Sure I can.”
“Sure’s the word. Would you really deny me the choice you deny yourself? After all, I don’t have so much as a job here.”
“I can give you one. I’m going to be in charge, remember. You could be my executive assistant. I’m sure I could arrange a good salary for you.”
“Not good enough, feller-me-lad. Old Skua, he ain’t much for regular employment. I like to kind of keep moving around, if you know what I mean.”
Ethan turned away from him. “All right, then, go on, leave, forget it. Forget me, too. See if I care.”
“I had hoped,” September told him softly, “that our final parting when it came would be under more pleasant circumstances. We’ve been through too much this past year and more to say farewells without smiles, feller-me-lad.” Ethan didn’t reply. “Let’s put it another way. Would you ask anyone else to stay here if they didn’t have to?”
The younger man considered, slumped against the wall. “No. No, you’re right, damn you. It’s wrong of me to expect you to stay just to make it easier on me. You’re carrying around enough emotional baggage without me dumping extra guilt on you.” He managed a smile. “Maybe it’ll help if I can think of one of us enjoying himself someplace else relaxing and taking it easy in the sun.”
“I think you’ve a false conception of what archaeology’s all about, feller-me-lad. From what I’ve heard this Alaspin’s as primitive as they come. Don’t think they’ve got a deep-space beam dug in there yet. But if warmth can be transmitted by telepathy, I’ll do my best to share some with you. Maybe one of these days we’ll both meet under more comforting circumstances.” He looked past Ethan, through the transparent walls that lined both sides of the transition room.
“Let’s put made decisions aside. Here come our friends.”
Ethan turned. Hunnar and his two squires, Suaxus-dal-Jagger and Budjir, were approaching from outside. They halted at the entrance to the chamber, then stepped inside, waving at their human friends. They couldn’t come any farther since the temperature in the outpost would lay them out with heatstroke inside fifteen minutes.