"You wouldn't understand," she said, between mouthfuls.
"Sure I would."
She walked to a porthole and looked out at the spectacle of stars — American stars, most of them — burning in the void of American space.
"I wanted to be free," she said.
"Huh?"
She sank wearily on my cot. "I suppose you'd call me a romantic," she said quietly. "I'm the sort of fool who recites poetry to herself in the black night, and cries in front of some absurd little statuette. Yellow autumn leaves make me tremble, and dew on a green lawn seems like the tears of all Earth. My psychiatrist tells me I'm a misfit."
She closed her eyes with a weariness I could appreciate. Standing in a potato sack for fifty hours can be pretty exhausting.
"Earth was getting me down," she said. "I couldn't stand it — the regimentation, the discipline, the privation, the cold war, the hot war, everything. I wanted to laugh in free air, run through green fields, walk unmolested through gloomy forests, sing —"
"But why did you pick on me?"
"You were bound for freedom," she said. "I'll leave, if you insist."
That was a pretty silly idea, out in the depths of space. And I couldn't afford the fuel to turn back.
"You can stay," I said.
"Thank you," she said very softly. "You do understand."
"Sure, sure," I said. "But we'll have to get a few things straight. First of all —" But she had fallen asleep on my cot, with a trusting smile on her lips.
Immediately I searched her handbag. I found five lipsticks, a compact, a phial of Venus V perfume, a paper-bound book of poetry, and a badge that read: Special Investigator, FBI.
I had suspected it, of course. Girls don't talk that way, but Spies always do.
It was nice to know my government was still looking out for me. It made space seem less lonely.
The ship moved into the depths of American Space. By working fifteen hours out of twenty-four, I managed to keep my spacewarp drive in one piece, my atomic piles reasonably cool, and my hull seams tight. Mavis O'Day (as my Spy was named) made all meals, took care of the light housekeeping, and hid a number of small cameras around the ship. They buzzed abominably, but I pretended not to notice.
Under the circumstances, however, my relations with Miss O'Day were quite proper.
The trip was proceeding normally — even happily — until something happened.
I was dozing at the controls. Suddenly an intense light flared on my starboard bow. I leaped backward, knocking over Mavis as she was inserting a new reel of film into her number three camera.
"Excuse me," I said.
"Oh, trample me anytime," she said.
I helped her to her feet. Her supple nearness was dangerously pleasant, and the tantalizing scent of Venus V tickled my nostrils.
"You can let me go now," she said.
"I know," I said, and continued to hold her. My mind inflamed by her nearness, I heard myself saying, "Mavis — I haven't known you very long, but —"
"Yes, Bill?" she asked.
In the madness of the moment I had forgotten our relationship of Suspect and Spy. I don't know what I might have said. But just then a second light blazed outside the ship.
I released Mavis and hurried to the controls. With difficulty I throttled the old Star Clipper to an idle, and looked around.
Outside, in the vast vacuum of space, was a single fragment of rock. Perched upon it was a child in a spacesuit, holding a box of flares in one hand and a tiny spacesuited dog in the other.
Quickly we got him inside and unbuttoned his spacesuit.
"My dog —" he said.
"He's all right, son," I told him.
"Terribly sorry to break in on you this way," the lad said.
"Forget it," I said. "What were you doing out there?"
"Sir," he began, in treble tones, "I will have to start at the start. My father was a spaceship test pilot, and he died valiantly, trying to break the light barrier. Mother recently remarried. Her present husband is a large, black-haired man with narrow, shifty eyes and tightly compressed lips. Until recently he was employed as a ribbon clerk in a large department store."
"He resented my presence from the beginning. I suppose I reminded him of my dead father, with my blond curls, large oval eyes and merry, outgoing ways. Our relationship smouldered fitfully. Then an uncle of his died (under suspicious circumstances) and he inherited holdings in British Space."
"Accordingly, we set out in our spaceship. As soon as we reached this deserted area, he said to mother, 'Rachel, he's old enough to fend for himself. My mother said, 'Dirk, he's so young! But soft-hearted, laughing mother was no match for the inflexible will of the man I would never call father. He thrust me into my spacesuit, handed me a box of flares, put Flicker into his own little suit, and said, 'A lad can do all right for himself in space these days. 'Sir, I said, 'there is no planet within two hundred light years. 'You'll make out, he grinned, and thrust me upon this spur of rock."
The boy paused for breath, and his dog Flicker looked up at me with moist oval eyes. I gave the dog a bowl of milk and bread, and watched the lad eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Mavis carried the little chap into the bunk room and tenderly tucked him into bed.
I returned to the controls, started the ship again, and turned on the intercom.
"Wake up, you little idiot!" I heard Mavis say.
"Lemme sleep," the boy answered.
"Wake up! What did Congressional Investigation mean by sending you here? Don't they realize this is an FBI case?"
"He's been reclassified as a 10-F Suspect," the boy said. "That calls for full surveillance."
"Yes, but I'm here," Mavis cried.
"You didn't do so well on your last case," the boy said. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but Security comes first."
"So they send you," Mavis said, sobbing now. "A twelve-year-old child —"
"I'll be thirteen in seven months."
"A twelve-year-old child! And I've tried so hard! I've studied, read books, taken evening courses, listened to lectures —"
"It's a tough break," the boy said sympathetically. "Personally, I want to be a spaceship test pilot. At my age, this is the only way I can get in flying hours. Do you think he'll let me fly the ship?"
I snapped off the intercom. I should have felt wonderful. Two full-time Spies were watching me. It meant I was really someone, someone to be watched.
But the truth was, my Spies were only a girl and a twelve-year-old boy. They must have been scraping bottom when they sent those two.
My government was still ignoring me, in its own fashion.
We managed well on the rest of the flight. Young Roy, as the lad was called, took over the piloting of the ship, and his dog sat alertly in the co-pilot's seat. Mavis continued to cook and keep house. I spent my time patching seams. We were as happy a group of Spies and Suspect as you could find.
We found an uninhabited Earth-type planet. Mavis liked it because it was small and rather cute, with the green fields and gloomy forests she had read about in her poetry books. Young Roy liked the clear lakes, and the mountains, which were just the right height for a boy to climb.
We landed, and began to settle.
Young Roy found an immediate interest in the animals I animated from the Freezer. He appointed himself guardian of cows and horses, protector of ducks and geese, defender of pigs and chickens. This kept him so busy that his reports to the Senate became fewer and fewer, and finally stopped altogether.
You really couldn't expect any more from a Spy of his age.
And after I had set up the domes and force-seeded a few acres, Mavis and I took long walks in the gloomy forest, and in the bright green and yellow fields that bordered it.
One day we packed a picnic lunch and ate on the edge of a little waterfall. Mavis' unbound hair spread lightly over her shoulders, and there was a distant enchanted look in her blue eyes. All in all, she seemed extremely un-Spylike, and I had to remind myself over and over of our respective roles.