"Then that's all right." Grimes knew that he should be worrying nonetheless, but the Commissioner was a big girl and could look after herself. And how could the robot harm her in any way but physically? "You've been snooping in its—his—mind, so you know how he ticks."
"Yes, Captain."
Grimes strode to the reception desk and asked the attractive, blonde petty officer to have Adder's crew paged.
Mrs. Dalwood looked well. She was softer, somehow, and she seemed to have put on a little weight!—although not as much as Rosaleen. She sat at ease in her day room, admiring the beautiful, jewel-encrusted watch that now adorned her left wrist. Grimes sat on the edge of his chair, watching her, waiting for her to speak. To one side stood the robot John, silent, immobile.
"Well, Lieutenant," she said, not too unpleasantly, "you managed to get us upstairs without any major catastrophes. I hope that we shall reach our destination in a reasonably intact condition. We should. As you must notice already, the work carried out by the Skandian technicians is of excellent quality . . . Like this watch . . ." She turned her wrist so that Grimes could see it properly. "It seems strange that a robust people such as the Skandians, space Vikings, should be such outstanding watchsmiths, but they are, as you probably know. His Majesty insisted that I accept this keepsake from him.
"Yes. Things could have been worse. Much worse, as it turned out. His Majesty and I reached an understanding. Together we accomplished more, much more, than the so-called diplomats . . ."
I can imagine it, thought Grimes—and to his surprise experienced a twinge of sexual jealousy.
Her manner stiffened. "But don't think, Mr. Grimes, that I shall not be putting in a full report on your conduct. It is my duty as a Commissioner to do so. I cannot forget that you gave me your resignation . . ."
Suddenly John spoke. He said tonelessly, "He is thinking of you."
The Commissioner seemed to forget that Grimes was present. Her face softened again. "He is? Tell me . . ."
"He misses you, Madam. He is thinking, I really loved her. She reminded me so much of my dear old mother."
Grimes laughed. He couldn't help it. Mrs. Dalwood screamed furiously, "Be silent, John. I forbid you to speak, ever, unless spoken to by me."
"Yes, Madam."
"And as for you, Mr. Grimes, you heard nothing."
Grimes looked at her, into the eyes that were full of appeal. He remembered what he had heard of Mrs. Commissioner Dalwood before ever he had the misfortune to meet her. The beautiful Mrs. Dalwood, the proud Mrs. Dalwood, the so-called femme fatale of the Admiralty who could, and did, compete with much younger women on equal terms. In a less permissive society she could never have attained her high rank; in Earth's past she could have become a King's courtesan.
And in Skandia's present . . . ?
Grimes said softly, "Of course, King Eric's very young . . ."
"Mr. Grimes, you heard nothing . . ."
He could not resist the appeal in her voice, the very real charm. He thought, I may not be an officer much longer, but I'll still try to be a gentleman. He said, "I heard nothing.
Commodore Damien looked at Grimes over his desk, over the skeletal fingers with which he had made the too-familiar steeple. He said, without regret, "So I shall be losing you, Grimes."
"Yes, sir."
"Frankly, I was surprised."
"Yes, sir."
"But not altogether pained."
Grimes wasn't sure how to take this, so said nothing.
"Tomorrow morning, Grimes, you hand over your command to Lieutenant Beadle. I think that he deserves his promotion."
"Yes, sir."
"But how did you do it, Grimes? Don't tell me that . . . ? No. She's not your type, nor you hers."
"You can say that again, sir."
"It can't be what you do. It can't be what you know. It must be whom you know . . . "
Or what you know about whom, thought Lieutenant Commander Grimes a little smugly.
THE END
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