"It wouldn't do any good. But Odern is lively, next to Gilver. Here at least you have a whole planet full of people doing all the normal things people do. There are only two kinds of people?well, Foitani, but you know what I mean?on Gilver. They have soldiers, to guard something nobody else is supposed to know about, and they have scholars, to try to understand something they don't dare approach. Aissur Aissur Rus is from Gilver?he was the head of the research team there."
"I like him better than a lot of the others," Jennifer said.
"Yes, he's sharp," Greenberg agreed. "He thinks for himself, and that's unusual among the Foitani. They usually just go around trying to figure out what the Great Ones would have done. I suppose that's one of the reasons he got the job. Nobody here had any idea what the Great Ones were doing with the Great Unknown, so they had to get someone who could put his own slant on things. But that's not the point I was trying to make. Aissur Aissur Rus was so glad to get away from Gilver that he volunteered to be part of the team that brought you back here."
"That's great," Jennifer said. "But he's going back there with us, isn't he?"
"So he is, but I don't think it's because he really wants to. The Foitani run more toward a strong sense of duty than we do."
"After what they put themselves through with the Suicide Wars, it sounds like a survival characteristic for them. To pull themselves back up after something like that, they'd have to have been able to stick together."
"I suppose so." Greenberg yawned. "We'd better get some sleep. If your research is done, we'll probably be leaving for Gilver early tomorrow, or maybe even late tonight. The Foitani don't believe in wasting time. They could be in here any minute now, to install the course tape and the electronic countermeasures they hope will get us there without being blasted by something left over from the Suicide Wars."
"Of course, they have their own bomb aboard already," Jennifer said.
"There is that, yes. But we don't have to worry about it as long as we're good little boys and girls." Greenberg's voice was dry.
"That's great," Jennifer said again. She walked into the refresher cubicle. When she came out, Greenberg went in. She undressed, lay down on the foam pad?it never had gotten moved to the storeroom?and pulled the blanket up over her. She closed her eyes, but discovered that, though she was tired, she wasn't ready to sleep. The faint ammoniacal smell of the foam pad reminded her of the one she'd had on the Foitani ship, which in turn made her feel all over again how very much alone she was. But for Greenberg, she was the only human for too many hundred light-years. The Harold Meeker's temperature was perfectly comfortable. She shivered under the blanket even so.
Greenberg came out of the refresher. He yawned again, stepping toward his sofa bed. If he had any worries like Jennifer's, he didn't show them. She suspected they were there; back aboard the Flying Festoon, he'd been good at keeping things to himself so his worries wouldn't worry others. It was one of the several traits for which she admired him.
She nodded to herself. "Bernard," she called softly, "do you really feel like sleeping right away?"
He stopped in midstride. His voice was controlled and careful when he answered, "Does that mean what I think it means?"
She nodded again, this time for him. "I think it means what you think it means."
"Jennifer, any man who didn't want to go to bed with you the minute he set eyes on you would need his vision correction adjusted. You know that," Greenberg said. Jennifer did know it. The knowledge had not always brought happiness; men found it too easy to separate her body from her, to want the one without caring about the other. But Greenberg was going on: "We have enough other things to worry about right now, so I want to know if you're sure. If it's going to complicate our lives a lot, it's more trouble than it's worth."
"If you have the sense to say something like that?and I was sure you did?then we should be able to manage, don't you think?"
"I hope so," he answered. He pulled off his shorts. The cabin of the Harold Meeker was small; two quick steps brought him to the foam pad. He got down beside her. She wadded up the blanket, threw it against the wall. He smiled. "I forgot just how lovely you are. I'd sort of kept from looking at you a lot?I didn't want to make a nuisance of myself, or more of a nuisance than I've already been for getting you dragged to Odern in the first place."
"That's foolish," Jennifer said. "It's not as if we haven't seen each other before. Trading ships are like that. And we're friends already, and more than friends, even if it was a while ago now."
"Quite a while ago now?getting close to ten years, isn't it? I didn't want to impose, and you were still upset about being here. But?" He didn't go on, at least not with words.
Jennifer savored what he was doing. She remembered from the Flying Festoon that he was seldom in a hurry?a rare virtue in men, she'd since found. Since he was about twenty years older than she was, she wondered if it was just that he was more thoroughly mature. More likely, it was that he was simply himself. Whatever it was, she enjoyed it.
Some considerable while later, she arched her hips so he could slide down her underpants. "Be careful with them," she said. "I only have the two pairs, and yours aren't made for the way I'm put together."
"I like the way you're put together."
"I noticed." Her hand closed on him.
"And I'll be careful," he promised. "How's that?and that?and that?"
Her underpants had only gotten as far as her knees, but she didn't care. "Mmm. That's?nice. Oh, yes. Right there, right there?"
The communicator buzzed harshly. "Oh, no," Jennifer said. Greenberg was a good deal more eloquent than that. The communicator ignored both of them. It kept on buzzing.
"Open your ship at once, humans. This is Pawasar Pawasar Ras speaking. I shall brook no delay." The electronic translator's tone was flat, but the words could hardly have been more peremptory. Pawasar Pawasar Ras went on, "We need to install important gear aboard the Harold Meeker immediately. Refusal to open the ship will be taken as evidence of conspiracy against the Foitani species."
"What do you suppose they do to conspirators against the Foitani species?" Jennifer asked.
Greenberg stroked her one last time. "I'm tempted to find out." But the moment was broken, and they both knew it. He got up from the foam pad and called out, "We will open the ship in a moment, Pawasar Pawasar Ras. You roused us from our rest, that's all."
"What rest?" Jennifer said. Then she giggled. "I was certainly roused, though."
"Shut up," Greenberg said over his shoulder as he dressed. She put her clothes back on, too. He ordered the air lock open. The alien, faintly spicy smells of Odern's air filled the cabin.
Two Foitani technicians came in. They filled the cabin, too, to overflowing. They installed their gadgetry, then ran some checks to make sure their artificial-intelligence system meshed with the Harold Meeker's computers. One of them wore a translator. He said, "If you try to disable this system, you will also disable your own electronics. If by some accident you do not do that, you will remain altogether vulnerable to weaponry from the days of the Suicide Wars. I tell you this for information's sake. You may die if you like, but you should be aware of how and why this will come to pass."
"Thank you for being generous enough to warn us," Greenberg said.
"You are welcome." Like most Foitani, the technician was irony-proof. "You will lift off as soon as is practicable, which is to say, at once."