by neetha Napew
Pete Easley laughed. ‘The guy’s good at what he does, but Scott only tolerates him because it keeps him out of other people’s hair.
He’s a natural yes-man, but he’s got an eidetic memory.” Early risers
waved a greeting at Kris and Pete, some of them pointing to her arm and
signalling ‘tough luck’. Not sure how to respond to the sympathy, she
waved back, smiling. She glanced skyward, knowing that Baby was
probably
over the other hemisphere about now.
“Could I sneak onto one of the bridges, d’you think?” ‘Only when you’ve had some breakfast. You’re white as a sheet,’ he said, pulling in to park at the mess hall.
So she had breakfast, which Pete Easley brought over to the table at which he had seated her, one not visible from the door.
“Don’t think you need condolences right now,’ he said, sitting so that he blocked her from casual glances.
“Is news of my accident all over the Bay?” she demanded, swinging back to annoyance again.
“Well, there had to be an explanation when Zainal showed up with Laughrey, and we all know how keen you were to go on the mission,’ he said, adding, ‘and you know how news goes through Retreat.” ‘Hmmm, yes, indeed I do.” She grimaced then becauseeven to her she sounded cranky.
“Don’t worry about it, Kris,’ Pete said. ‘I’d be a lot crankier.” And he escorted her back to the runabout without too many people commiserating with her.
“I think I’ll take you home, Kris,’ he said, making the turn towards her cabin where he should have turned towards the hangar. ‘You still don’t look like yourself.”
“I’m not,’ she agreed. ‘I am definitely not myself.”
But also she didn’t want to go to a cabin that was empty of Zainal. She tried to think of the things she could do one-handed and came up with very few. Even dish-washing required two.
“Look, Kris, they won’t reach the Bubble for a couple more hours.
How about I drop you off at your cabin and come get you in time for that? Okay?” ‘Yeah, that sounds pretty good,’ she said as he slowed the runabout right at her front door. She was getting out when she realized the doorway was no longer open. ‘Hey, how did that get there?” and she pointed to the brand-new addition.
Pete grinned. ‘Lenny Doyle brought it down at first light. He thought you might prefer to be miserable in privacy.” Delighted with the surprise, she worked the latch up and down.
“If you pull the string to the inside, it’s like locking it,’ he told her, and demonstrated.
“Like the pioneers used to do,’ and she grinned as she experimented, pulling the latch-string in and out.
Pete gave her a gentle push inward. ‘Get some rest now. And I’ll be back for you.” He shut the door and she pulled the string in again.
“Thanks, Pete,’ she called and heard his cheerful ‘No problemo’ and then the whispering sound of the air cushion driving off.
Someone had also tidied up the bedding and increased the fluff content of the mattress. Kris blessed whoever had done her that service. She nudged one of the stools across the flagstone floor with her feet, knocked it over and kicked it into place by the bed, uprighted it, placed the bottle on it within handy reach, and sat down on the bed to take off her boots. She wouldn’t sleep, she knew that, but she took a pull on the bottle before she lay down.
A determined knocking and someone calling her name roused her and she sat up, knocking her arm painfully.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,’ she called, discovering it’s not as easy to get to one’s feet with an arm in a sling. When she opened the door, Pete Easley was leaning on the frame, smiling broadly.
“You did sleep and you look one hundred percent better,’ he said, but he took out of his pocket a comb, one of those carved out of loo-cow bones, and ran it through her hair. ‘That’s even better.
C’mon. We’ve just time to get to the hangar before they make the Bubble.” When they entered the KDL’s bridge, it was crowded with an avid audience, but Scott made peremptory gestures for her to be let through and then installed her in one of the seats.
“You’ll be interested to know,’ Beverly was saying from Baby’s piloting compartment, ‘that the Bubble does not register on any detection equipment. But it’s visible . . . as you can see.”
Which they did, as from Baby’s perspective. They could also
see the scout-ship on the KDL’s screen, with its nose a scant ten metres from the barrier.
“We will poke it,’ Zainal’s voice said, and Baby drifted into the opacity of the Bubble and bounced slowly backwards.
“Here, let me adjust the screen a bit so they can see what the warship left behind,’ said Marrucci, laughter rippling through his voice.
“We’ll need a touch of reverse for a proper view,’ and that was in Laughrey’s amused baritone. He chuckled openly as the viewscreen of Baby slowly swung to starboard and then equally slowly reversed.
“See what we mean?” Bert Put asked, and Kris could just imagine the grin on the Aussie’s face. ‘Lost every array they had, and every mast they had.” ‘Outlined for ever in Bubble,’ said Balenquah. ‘Cadre de digs, the Farmers make some clever stuff!’
‘(ban you make any analysis of it?” Scott asked.
m: At.
I:
· 1:
“Can’t if sensors can’t pick up anything,’ Bert Put said. ‘Not unless we go out and see if we can cut a patch of it.” ‘No,’ said Zainal. ‘If you wish, someone will go outside, but we will not take sample.” ‘Affirmative to defacing it, Zainal,’ Scott said. ‘But I’d like an EVA inspection of it.” ‘I go,’ Zainal said, and immediately there was protest from both Baby and the KDL observers.
Kris discovered her left hand on her lips, to keep from adding her protest. Then she conquered her fear.
“He’s the one to go, Ray,’ she said firmly. ‘He knows the gear and the ship. No-one else has checked out for a space-walk, have they?” ‘I have,’ said Bert Put, ‘but not with this equipment.
Zainal’ll be just fine, Kris. He’s already suiting up.” Zainal’s EVA suit also had its own camera so, after a nervous wait, the view was transferred to his helmet eye and they saw the shimmering veil of the Bubble as he slowly approached it. They could see his hands reaching out to prod it gently, and the reaction of even that light touch as he floated away from it.
“Can you put your helmet on it, Zainal?” Scott asked, receiving a note from the engineers watching the space-walk.
Slowly the Bubble filled the camera screen and was placed right up against the material. Nothing of the black space beyond could be seen through the fabric, and it was smooth.
“Like a balloon’s skin,’ Kris murmured under her breath.
“That’s how I’d describe it,’ Scott agreed.
Then Zainal pulled back. ‘There are no flaws, even around the debris from the warship.”
“Could you make it to that spot?” Scott asked.
“He’s at the end of the tether right now, Ray,’ Beverly said.
“We’ve got all the photographic material you need for examination of that flotsam. No need to risk Zainal for it.” ‘Agreed,’ Scott said indifferently. ‘Thank you for your effort, Zainal.” ‘No problemo,’ said Zainal’s deep voice as his helmet turned and took in Baby’s bow and the windows into the pilot’s compartment.
Kris’s mouth went dry. He was a long way from the ship, even if he was slowly returning to it. Feeling someone’s hand close reassuringly on her shoulder, she glanced up at Pete Easley. She gave a sigh and controlled the flutter in her stomach. The break began to throb again, but she decided to ignore it: the pain wasn’t there, she had no time for it.
Then Zainal was back inside the scout and his camera turned off.
She breathed a sigh of relief, oddly echoed around the crowded bridge.
Which, she realized, was just a bit too crowded for her
and she rose from her seat, glancing appealingly at Pete.
“Thanks, Admiral,’ she said, nodding to the others she knew out of those on the bridge.
A way parted for her as Easley conducted her off the bridge and then off the KDL. Her knees were near to buckling as she stepped down the ladder, hanging on with her left hand. And her arm ached despite her efforts to make it stop.
“There’re sandwiches and tea,’ Pete said, showing where a trestle table was burdened with lunch items. ‘And I know where they keep the hangar’s hooch,’ he added.
“This isn’t like me,’ she protested, peevish again.
“No, it isn’t,’ Pete said equably. ‘But you’re allowed. Sit.
I’ll be right back.” He doctored a cup of tea and brought more sandwiches than she thought was fair, but she polished off two and had two cups of hooched-up tea. The ache in her bones subsided.
“D’you want to go back in and see the next show?” Easley asked.
He was really being very nice, Kris thought, but she shook her head.
“Then I’ll take you back to the cabin,’ and he cupped her left elbow, though he parked the runabout very close to where they’d been sitting.
He was really quite a nice guy, she thought, wondering who’d snap him up as the father of a child, or children. He wan a good head taller than she was, and rather more athletic than you’d think with that pose of indolence he usually affected. Not badlooking, either, though nothing as toy-boy handsome as Dick Aarens was.
Or Yuri, with his Slavic cheekbones and snapping black eyes.
Neither of them was a patch on Zainal though.
The comunit buzzed and Pete answered it. ‘Oh, you have?
That’s great. I’m taking Kris home. She needs to rest. Okay?
Fine. See you. No, they don’t know what the Bubble’s made of .
.
. except it’s the biggest damned balloon ever made. Over.” ‘Yeah,’ and she giggled, ‘it is the biggest damned balloon ever made, and we don’t know who blew it up.” Pete grinned at her and she knew she was acting silly, but it was better than being peevish.
“I love that door,’ she said as the runabout stopped in front of it.
“It’s the best front door I’ve ever seen. Zainal will be so pleased.
Say, how much hooch did you pour in my tea?” ‘Only enough to stop the ache in your arm. It has stopped, hasn’t it?” She looked down at the clumsy white extrusion. ‘You know, it has.” Pete swung the door inward and she had taken the first step before she realized that the inside was different.
T
“My God, what’s been happening with my back turned?” she demanded, swaying a bit as she turned towards Pete.
He took her good arm and led her inside. ‘Well, we were going to wait with the shivaree until Zainal could be here, too, but with you hors de combat, as it were, Sandy, Lenny, Ninety, Chuck, Sarah, Whitby and Leila thought maybe now would be the right time to bring the stuff in.” ‘Stuff?” She blinked, trying to focus on first the table, with six glasses almost symmetrical in manufacture, and a pottery set which looked like Sandy’s best designs - two pots, one large, one small, and a cast-iron skillet. There were benches around the table, and at one end a chair big enough to fit Zainal. She put her hand to her mouth in surprise. But when her startled gaze flicked past the opening to the smaller room and saw the wooden bedstead with carved posts and the huge puffy fluff mattress that covered it, she burst into tears.
“Now, now, Kris,’ Pete said in consternation and, pulling her against him, began to stroke her soothingly, saying a lot of things that she didn’t really hear because the generosity of her friends and the team was so overwhelming.
Then he was holding one of the glasses to her lips and urging her to drink. She did, because she hated to be such a baby when everyone was nemg so nice to her. And then her knees seemed to give way and Pete picked her up - as easily as Zainal could and deposited her on the bed, arranging the pillows behind her and urging her to finish the drink.
“The bed - it’s so marvelous. . .and they all know I’ve wanted a really, really, truly thick mattress . . .” and she clung more firmly to Pete, as the only steady thing in a rapidly whirling world.
She felt arms around her and, out of habit and forgetting that Zainal was off in space, she put her face up to be kissed. And it was.
And so were her cheeks, and her neck, just where she liked it, and she was kissing the masculine face, slightly stubbled, which surprised her because Zainal didn’t grow a beard but she needed comfort right now, and the kisses were very nice indeed, and she couldn’t resist returning them . . . nor protest, even with her right arm feeling so heavy and not quite hers, when the coverall was slipped off and she felt the warm skin next to hers. This was all somehow inevitable and, in the end, quite enjoyable.
Kris woke up with a terrible hangover and discovered - the hard way, by accidentally banging her right arm as she tried to sit up that it was still in a splint, though the throbbing was muted. The struggle just to sit only made her head worse.
She remembered being in the KDL’s bridge, and coming back and seeing all
the lovely gifts and crying, and sitting down on the bed and Pete Easley
. . . She sat bolt upright, collapsing almost immediately with the
headache and trying to remember
more.
And she’d enjoyed it far more than she should have. In fact, she could almost - not quite but almost - regret that her scruples required her to honour the bond that had grown between herself and Zainal as if it were a legal one. And that meant no jumping in the sack with anyone. Well, there were extenuating circumstances involved last night that would never recur.
Furthermore she’d keep far away from any of that ‘medicinal’, inhibition-destroying alcohol. As much because of the headache she had as to what it did to her self-control.
Well, she thought philosophically and chuckled. At least I remember enjoying it. Then she sighed. She hoped their next meeting wouldn’t be awkward. Or that she’d have to explain to Pete that last night was it! She wasn’t about to two-time Zainal.
Even with someone as good in bed as Pete Easley. Some girl was going to be very lucky! She made another injudicious movement and thought longingly of a cool compress on her forehead and maybe the back of her neck.
Maybe a hair of the dog? She pushed back the blankets, and noticed that Pete had neatly laid her coverall on the stool in easy reach, her boots beside it.
Yes, the bottle of medicinal spirits was on the table, and the glass he poured for her, with a good inch in it. Had he had some before he left? Whenever he had left, and she did briefly worry that his departure might have been noticed. Well, if it had, it had. She lifted the glass and knocked it back shuddering at the taste. It was remarkable she’d been able to drink any of it.
She made a slow way to the hearth and, holding her head very I ;
still, lowered herself, spine-straight, to light the fire laid there.
Another considerate touch by Mr Easley. And the kettle was full
of water.I
One of these days, they’d have water piped in to houses, but that was in the future . . .
She went back to the table to inspect the gifts she remembered vaguely having seen earlier, now sunlight came from the small side window above the bed. Its slightly wavy glass sent a prism of rainbow light onto the table. Then she realized how the sun was shining in, from the east. For they had faced the cabin south! Good Lord! She’d slept the rest of yesterday and an entire Botany night? No wonder her arm didn’t ache as much.
The headache had begun to ease off by the time the kettle had boiled. She took herbs from the little pot on the mantel and made a cup which she took to Zainal’s chair to drink. It was a comfortable chair, and her butt eased into the contours. It’d need a cushion or two . . . no, she couldn’t see Zainal sitting on a cushion but the wood, when she felt it with her left hand, had been rubbed smooth, sme
lling only vaguely of the vegetable oil that had been used to give it lustre. She wondered who had made it.
Then she absorbed the construction of the table - a three-inch slab of the slate which was quarried nearby, set on sturdy, slightly tapering rounds of lodge-pole trees, with notches which spiked through the slate at the corners, keeping the top firmly m place.
There was a tentative knock on the door.
“Coming,’ she called and saw that the latch-string was inside.
So she must have come to long enough to do that when Pete left.
She opened the door to Mavis Belton from the hospital, a clean coverall in her hand.
“Oh, do come in,’ said Kris. ‘Kettle’s just boiled. I was having a cup to get over my hangover.”
“How’s the arm?” asked Mavis, with a grin.
“Not as bad as yesterday, that’s for sure. Come in, come in.”
l
Mavis did, but only after a careful look into the main room of the cabin. Then she saw the furnishings and exclaimed with surprise, running her finger over the surface of the slate slab and admiring the sturdy lodge-pole legs that held up such a weight.
“Not something you could tip over easily,’ she remarked, stroking the chest and then Zainal’s chair. ‘Big enough even for him, I’d say.” ‘He’ll be delighted with it. He looks so uncomfortable on stools, with his legs sticking up like Arnie Schwarzenegger on a kindergarten chair. Here’s your tea, and I’ll just steal Zainal’s chair. I can rest the splint on the arm.” ‘I just ended my shift, but I thought you’d like to hear that Baby’s doing fine in her orbitals.” ‘I saw them reach the Bubble, and Zainal’s space-walk,’ Kris said. ‘That was before Pete Easley plied me with so much liquor I must have passed out.” ‘I think we’re going to have to alter the recipe. That particular distillation is double potency. I told Leon and Mayock they’d better cut it more.” ‘They should,’ Kris agreed, rubbing the back of her neck. ‘My hangover’s hung-over for fair.” ‘Sit out in the sun; it’s a lovely day.” Mavis rose. ‘May I look around? Inside and out?” ‘Sure, but watch that pile of shakes on the way to the latrine, will you?” By dinnertime, when Mitford came by in the runabout to take her down to the mess hall, Kris had completely recovered. But she took him to task and demanded to know who had done the furniture she’d found in the cabin on her return from the hangar.
