“And who would make this thrilling capture?”
Markov shrugged. “Stoner is a former astronaut. I suppose he would want to be in on it…”
“Exactly! An American astronaut.”
“But we’re all working on this together, aren’t we?”
“Hah! There is together and together.”
Markov glanced down at his tray and decided that he couldn’t face another bite of the bland food. Maybe she’s right, he thought. Certainly we can’t trust the Americans to feed us.
Maria continued, “All through this project the Americans have tried every trick they know to keep the knowledge of this alien spacecraft to themselves.”
“So have we,” Markov protested weakly.
Maria ignored him. “Now the one astronaut they have on their team suggests that we go out into space and bring the alien ship into orbit around the Earth.”
“But it’s a good idea!” Markov insisted.
“And how will they do this thing?” she retorted. “With the American Space Shuttle, and American launching facilities, and American astronauts.”
“They will share the information with us.”
“How do we know that? How do we know they will share all the information with us that they obtain?”
“Zworkin feels the idea has merit.”
“Zworkin!” Maria almost spat. “That Jew! He’s probably in league with the capitalists.”
“Maria!”
“It’s true,” she insisted. “Our task is to make certain that if anyone reaches this spaceship it will be Soviet cosmonauts. We cannot allow the Americans to steal this alien spaceship for themselves. And we cannot allow the Soviet Union to be betrayed by naïve scientists and unconscious traitors.”
Feeling pitifully weak in the blast of his wife’s hot fervor, Markov said weakly, “I’ve already told Zworkin that I will serve on the committee that will examine Stoner’s suggestion.”
“H’mph. And have you befriended Stoner himself, as you were ordered to do?”
Ordered? Markov’s brows went up. Now she is giving me orders? To his wife, he replied, “I have met him twice; both times in groups with other people. We have said hello to each other, nothing more.”
“Nothing more,” she repeated sullenly.
“But Zworkin has accepted me for the committee, so I should see a good deal of Stoner in the near future.”
Maria’s scowl eased slightly. “See to it that any rocket adventures we enter into are done by Soviet cosmonauts.”
With a sad shake of his head, Markov got up from his chair and headed for the kitchen with his unfinished tray.
“Where are you going?” Maria called after him.
“Out for a walk. I’m not sleepy yet.” Even though there were twin beds in the bungalow’s one bedroom, the thought of sleeping in the same room with Maria was becoming unbearable to Markov.
“Don’t wake me up when you come in,” she growled.
Once outside, in the sighing night breeze and the friendly whisper of the palms, Markov could breathe again. She overpowers me, he knew. It’s a battle for survival between us, and she’s winning it.
He threaded his way through the little cluster of bungalows and made it to the beach, glowing white in the moonlight. He took off his shoes to stroll in the sand. It was still warm from the day’s sun. The water lapped gently a dozen meters away. Out in the night, along the invisible reef, he could hear the surf breathing like a restless sea god.
Markov stood alone on the sand and stared out at the moonwashed night. How long before the ocean wears away these islands? How long before Maria and I tear each other apart?
He laughed out loud. How dramatic you are! Tear each other apart! She’d snap you like a twig, but you couldn’t even muss her hair, no matter how hard you tried.
He thought again of those few moments in their apartment, when Maria had gloatingly told him how she had destroyed Sonya Vlasov’s life. Even then, Markov said to himself, even in full fury, you know better than to try to fight her.
Something made him look back up the beach and he saw a woman walking toward him. An apparition. Aphrodite, come out of the sea, tall, long-legged, with the slim waist and full bosom of a goddess. A white blouse, ghostly in the moonlight, was tied around her middle. Shorts clung lovingly to her hips.
Markov stared as she calmly approached him, smiled to him and said in English, “Good evening.”
His heart spun around. He was instantly, hopelessly, in love.
“A good evening to you, beautiful lady. I have been waiting for you all my life.”
She laughed. “You’re one of the Russians, aren’t you?”
“Does it show?”
“I’ve seen you with the other Russian scientists,” Jo said.
“And why have I not seen you? Have I been blind, or have you kept yourself invisible, goddess that you are?”
“Goddess? Wow!”
“Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. I am your humble servant, Kirill Vasilovsk Markov, ready to follow you across deserts and mountains.”
Jo laughed. “I’m afraid I’m not Aphrodite. My name is Jo Camerata, and I’m an American. But there is some Greek blood in my ancestry, come to think of it.”
“You see?” Markov said. “The goddess exists in you.”
Jo laughed.
“And what is such a lovely young lady doing in this romantic setting, all alone? Are there no handsome young men to escort you?”
With a shake of her head, she replied, “No. No young men.”
“That is sad.”
“Yes…” She smiled again. “But you’re here.”
“Ah, the moonlight must be playing tricks on your eyes, fair one. I am neither young nor handsome.”
“I can see perfectly well,” Jo said. “I came here for a swim. Would you like to go in with me?”
“Swimming? Now? At night?”
“Sure. The water’s warm.”
“Intriguing.”
“Wouldn’t you like to try it?”
“But I have no swimsuit.”
She laughed. “Neither do I. We can skinnydip. Nobody else is around.”
“My English…” Markov couldn’t believe she was saying what he thought she was saying. “You mean—in the nude?”
“Sure. Just leave your clothes here and wade in.”
She stripped quickly and ran for the water. Markov fumbled with his clothes, his eyes on the glowing curves of her naked body. Finally he stepped cautiously into the bath-warm water. It felt good, relaxing, inviting.
“Tell me,” he called to her as he waded in up to his chest, “were you going to go swimming all alone?”
“Yes, but it’s always safer to go with somebody else,” Jo answered. “Especially at night. The sharks come into the lagoon at night.”
“Sharks?” Suddenly the water felt cold and dangerous to Markov.
Ross Sea, Antarctica
Hideki Takamura prowled the plunging deck of the catcher boat, bundled into his hooded sweater and wind-breaker. It was late in the season to be searching for whales, and if a plane or ship from the International Commission saw them, Japan would be reprimanded and embarrassed before the entire world. At least the meddling fools from Greenpeace had sailed homeward, he knew. That was something to be thankful for.
The season’s catch had been poor, so even though the Commission had ordered all the whaling fleets home, they still plowed through the heavy Antarctic seas as the nights grew longer, hoping to find a few straggling whales to fill their half-empty holds.
The clouds overhead parted as if pulled away by the hands of a giant. Takamura looked up at the coldly glittering stars.
And his breath caught in his throat. The sky was shimmering with light: veils of eerie fluorescence streamed across the heavens, red, green, violet—the lights of the gods, dancing across the sky.