She would be grateful to him, he estimated complacently; had he not saved her life? Or at least helped to do so? And she would have the interest women always felt for a hero in him. And he would tell her, very gently and simply, about his love for herself, Zara Doy; and how they had been married, and how much they had loved each other . . .
He scowled. The thought of Ben Line Pertin intruded. Ben Line would have almost the same advantages as himself, bar, of course, the couple of days before they got there. But a couple of days might not be enough to awaken her romantic interest.
He nodded to himself, sealed up the end of the cocoon with a quick motion—startling the Purchased Person who stood wide-eyed beside him—and flipped on the stereostage, putting through a call to Ben Line Pertin on the orbiter.
When he saw himself, or the Ben Line version of himself, he was startled. So haggard! So sad! For a moment he almost thought it was a replay of that terribly depressing version of himself from the unidentified ship; but then Ben Line spoke. "Oh, it's you," he muttered. "What do you want?"
Ben Yale said carefully, "I think you know, Ben Line. It's about Zara."
Ben Line nodded lifelessly. "Yes. I suppose I should have expected you to call. I'm sorry, but—well. What can I do? I'll just go on being lonely. I've had plenty of practice—as you know."
Startled, Ben Yale stared at his duplicate. Elation and a nagging, suspicious fear fought with each other in his mind; he struggled to keep his voice level, even as he was wondering what had made Ben Line give up so easily. "I admire you for taking it so well," he managed to say.
"You do?" Ben Line looked surprised. Then, slowly, "Well, I kind of admire you, too. I mean, you actually look content, and God knows I can't; I don't feel it. Well, it's too bad we both had to be losers, but maybe it would be even harder if we weren't." And without another word he broke the connection.
Losers?
Ben Yale shook his swathed head, unbelievingly. Both of them losers?
And then a sudden fear chilled him, and he opened the end of the cocoon once more and peered out at Zara—
At Zara and Org Rider, sitting quietly, whispering at each other, the boy's hand caught in the girl's two, their shoulders touching.
Losers.
A couple of days had been time enough to awaken her romantic interest, after all.
But not for him.
On Earth astronomers were studying their tachyon transmissions of the object called Cuckoo. Almost invisible in the flood of light from the bright stars Benetnasch and Cor Caroli it swam in toward the center of the Galaxy.
Its course would take it very near the volume of space occupied by Sun and Earth. It was very, very far away. It would not get there for many thousands of years . . .
But it was coming.