After her return from London, Andromeda spent most of her time in the design office, a block or two away from the computer building, preparing data for the machine and sending it over for computation. Sometimes she came to communicate directly with it, with the result that long and complex calculations emerged later from the printer, which she would take away to translate into design terms. The outcome was all and more than Geers could have wished. A new guidance system and new ballistic formulas sprung ready-made from the drawing-board and when tested, they proved to come up to all specifications. The machine and the girl together could get through about a year’s development theory in a day. The results were not only elegant but obviously effective. In a very short time it would clearly be possible to construct an entirely new interceptive missile.
During duty hours Andromeda had freedom of movement within the compound and, although she disappeared, under guard, into her own quarters after work, she was soon a familiar figure in the camp. Judy put it about that she was a research senior who had been seconded by the Ministry of Defence.
The following week a communiqué was issued from 10 Downing Street:
“Her Majesty’s Government has been aware for some time of the passage of an increasing number of orbital vehicles, possibly missiles, over these islands. Although the vehicles, which are of unknown but terrestrial origin, pass over at great speed and at great height, there is no immediate cause for alarm. Her Majesty’s Government points out, however, that they constitute a deliberate infringement of our national air space, and that steps are being taken to intercept and identify them.”
Fleming listened to the telecast on the portable receiver in his hut at Thorness. He was no longer responsible for the computer, and Geers had suggested that he might be happier away from it. However, he stayed on, partly out of obstinacy and partly from a sense of impending emergency, watching the progress of Andromeda and the two young operators who had been enlisted to help her with the machine. He made no approaches to her, or to Judy, who continued to hang around with a sort of aimless watchfulness, acting as a liaison between Andromeda and the front office; but after he heard the broadcast he wandered over to the computer block with the vague idea that something ought to be done.
Judy found him sitting brooding on the swivel chair by the control desk. She had not gone near him again since the last snub, but she had watched him with concern and with a feeling of latent affection that had never left her.
She went up to the control desk and stood in front of him. “Why don’t you give it up, John?”
“That would please you, wouldn’t it?”
“It wouldn’t please me, but there’s nothing you can do here, eating your heart out.”
“It’s a nice little three-handed game, isn’t it?” He looked sardonically up at her. “I watch her and you watch me.”
“You’re not doing yourself any good.”
“Jealous?” he asked.
She shook her head impatiently. “Don’t be absurd.”
“They’re all so damn sure.” He stared reflectively across to the control equipment. “There may be something I’ve missed, about this—or about her.”
Andromeda came in to the computer room while Judy and Fleming were talking. She stood by the doorway holding a wad of papers, waiting until they had finished. She was quiet enough, but there was nothing modest about her. When she spoke to Judy and the others who worked with her she had an air of unquestioned and superior authority. She made no concessions even to Geers; she was perfectly polite but treated them all as intellectual inferiors.
“I wish to speak to Dr. Geers about these, please,” she said from the doorway.
“Now?” Judy tried to match her in quiet contempt.
“Now.”
“I’ll see if he’s free,” Judy said, and went out.
Andromeda crossed slowly to the control panel, ignoring Fleming; but something prompted him to stop her.
“Happy in your work?”
She turned and looked at him, without speaking.
He stretched back in the chair, suddenly alert.
“You’re getting quite indispensable, aren’t you?” he asked in the tone he had used to Judy.
She looked at him solemnly. She might have been a statue, with her fine carved face, her long hair, and her arms hanging limply down beside her simple, pale dress. “Please be careful what you talk about,” she said.
“Is that a threat?”
“Yes.” She spoke without emphasis, as if simply stating a fact.
Fleming stood up.
“Good grief! I’m not going to—” He stopped himself and smiled. “Perhaps I have missed something.”
Whatever he had in mind was hidden from her. She turned to walk away.
“Wait a minute!”
“I am busy.” But she turned back to him and waited.
He walked slowly to her and looked her up and down as though mocking her.
“You want to make something of yourself, if you’re going to influence men.”
She stood still. He lifted a hand to her hair and edged it back from one side of her face. “You should push your hair back, and then we could see what you look like. Very pretty.”
She stepped away so that his hand fell from her, but she kept her eyes on him, intrigued and puzzled.
“Or you could wear scent,” he said. “Like Judy does.”
“Is that what smells?”
He nodded. “Not very exotic. Lavender water or something. But nice.”
“I do not understand you.” A small frown creased the smooth skin of her forehead. “Nice—nasty. Good—bad. There is no logical distinction.”
He still smiled. “Come here.”
She hesitated, then took a step towards him.
Quietly and deliberately he pinched her arm.
“Ow!” She stepped back with a sudden look of fear in her eyes and rubbed the place where he had hurt her.
“Nice or nasty?” he inquired.
“Nasty.”
“Because you were made to register pain.” He raised his hand again and she flinched away. “I’m not going to hurt you this time.”
She stood rigidly while he stroked her forehead, like a deer being stroked by a child, submissive but ready for flight. His fingers ran down her cheek and on to her bare neck.
“Nasty or nice?”
“Nice.” She watched him to see what he would do next.
“You’re made to register pleasure. Did you know that?” He withdrew his hand gently and moved away from her. “I doubt if you were intended to, but by giving you human form... Human beings don’t live by logic.”
“So I’ve noticed!” She was more sure of herself now, as she had been before he started speaking; but he still held all her attention.
“We live through our senses. That’s what gives us our instincts, for good or bad—our aesthetic and moral judgements. Without them we’d probably have annihilated ourselves by now.”
“You’re doing your best, aren’t you?” She looked down at her papers with a contemptuous smile. “You are like children, with your missiles and rockets.”
“Don’t count me in on that.”
“No, I don’t.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “All the same, I am going to save you. It is very simple, really.” She made a small gesture to indicate the papers she held.
Judy came in and stood, as Andromeda had done, at the doorway.
“Dr. Geers can see you.”
“Thank you.” The roles now were changed. In some unspoken way, the three of them stood in a different relationship to each other. Although Fleming still watched Andromeda, she looked back at him with a different kind of awareness.
“Do I smell nasty?” she asked.
He shrugged. “You’ll have to find out, won’t you?”