“She looked at me like she was really fond of me.”
“Yeah. Know why? Because you remind her of her kid brother. He’s back on Earth and going nowhere, just the way she was before she tripped up and was sent out here. Gina admits it, she used to be a real tearaway. Her parents couldn’t do a damn thing with her. But her brother’s less of a rebel, and she’s afraid he’ll just stick in school to the end and finish up in the Pool.”
“You don’t think she’ll tell anyone about what I did?”
“Don’t see why she should. But I’ll talk to her and make sure.”
“Will she listen to you?”
“I think so.” Jigger stared at Rick for a second, his head to one side. “You’re not too observant, are you? I mean, you’ve never noticed that Gina and me are an item, have been for a year and a half. That’s why I came to CM-2 instead of heading right out for the Belt. That’s why I know about her, and what a hellcat she used to be, and all about her kid brother.”
Rick gazed at Jigger in horror. He had just remembered what Jigger said about breaking him in two. “I didn’t know—I didn’t notice. I’m sorry. I mean, if I’d had any idea that you two—”
“You know now. Nothing wrong with feeling horny, either—it means you’re physically adjusting to space. But stick to trainees. And don’t forget one other thing. California where you came from has the strongest laws in the known universe against sexual harassment and rape, but they still don’t work worth a damn. Out here we do things differently. A woman is taught a few tricks so she can look after herself. Deedee and Monkey and Gladys are getting special training you’ll never hear about. All the girls are being taught how to look after themselves. Remember that, if you want to keep your balls.” Jigger stood up from the rowing machine, came across, and patted Rick on the shoulder. “And while your jewels are still sore, use what happened with Gina to remind you of one other thing: If you want to survive in space, it’s not enough to be able to read and write and calculate. You have to learn to notice things—the sort of stuff you won’t find in any book.”
Rick skulked for a week. He hid away in the privacy of the study cubicles, until finally and inevitably he had the dreaded face-to-face meeting with Gina. She came into the cafeteria with a group of trainees while he was taking a hurried meal.
Rick froze. But her casual greeting suggested that nothing unusual had ever happened between them. Rick breathed a prayer of thanks and decided that he could return to the normal harassed life of a trainee on CM-2.
It didn’t work out that way. He didn’t hide away any more from Gina, but soon he had even less free time than usual, as two new things happened in quick succession.
The first came when he ran into Jigger Tait, and the big man was again on his way for a session in the gym.
“Every day,” said Jigger in answer to Rick’s question. “So does Gina, and so does Turkey Gossage.”
“But why? None of you is fat or anything.”
“No. But we’re in space, in a low-gee environment. Regular exercise is absolutely essential, otherwise you suffer calcium loss. Keep that up for a while and your bones get weak. When that happens it’s a real bugger to get back to normal.”
“But nobody’s making us exercise.”
“Give it another week and they will. You’ve only been excused because Turkey likes trainees to get their space legs before he lets them loose in the gym. Otherwise they run into walls or fall over things or tear muscles using the exercise equipment.” Jigger studied Rick as they moved along side by side. “You seem to handle space pretty good. Take a bit of advice from me. Get a head start right now, and use the gym regular. The sooner you do, the less chance you’ll have of long-term space problems.”
Rick nodded, but he might have ignored Jigger if he hadn’t run into Vido Valdez half an hour later. They converged in the quiet study area. Exactly one cubicle was vacant.
They stood together in front of the sliding door, with Rick a few inches in front. “Guess we could take turns,” he said. “You—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Vido sideswiped him from behind. Rick went sprawling forward into the wall, and before he could get up Vido was inside and had closed the door.
“Bastard!” Rick tugged at the handle, then hammered hard on the panel. “Open up!”
“Go screw yourself.”
“I was here first.” When Vido did not answer, Rick hammered on the door again. “Let me in.”
There was a chorus of complaints from the neighboring cubicles. “Get the hell out of here!”
“Shut the racket!”
“Hey, this is a quiet area.” And then, from a piercing female voice that Rick recognized as Gladys de Witt’s: “Stop your screaming, Luban, and bugger off—or we’ll call Turkey Gossage.”
Rick tugged one more time at the door. It did not budge. In an absolute fury he banged again, then hurried away to another series of complaints and abuse.
It ain’t over “til I say it’s over.
It wasn’t over between him and Vido, far from it. Rick rubbed at his shoulder. Valdez was strong, and the blow from that muscular arm had hurt. If another fight was coming—and it seemed to be—Rick would get creamed again. Unless he could somehow change the odds.
He recalled Jigger’s advice. Though it was the last thing in the world—or out of it—that he felt like doing, he headed for the region where the gym was located. He couldn’t make himself bigger and heavier than Vido, but maybe he could make himself harder and fitter.
He changed into shorts and a tee-shirt and went through to the hooped track with its centrifugal gravity. Someone was already there, running with an easy, floating style that appeared totally effortless. He halted. If that was Gina, and she misunderstood . . .
But it wasn’t. It was Alice Klein, dressed in a black singlet and the briefest of black shorts. Rick waited until she came past where he was standing, then accelerated to the point where he could step onto the moving track. He ran until he was at her side.
“Mind if I join you?”
She turned her head and gave him that smile that never got above her mouth. Rick took it as an OK, and matched his stride to hers. Within a minute he realized there might be another reason for that smile. She was moving fast—and not even breathing hard. Low gee must suit her, she seemed to float along as though this was her natural element. Out here her thin limbs looked graceful, even beautiful.
Well, he wasn’t going to put up with another fiasco, like the one on the treadmill. Instead of trying for more conversation, he looked straight ahead, lengthened his stride to one more natural to his height and the reduced gravity, and concentrated all his attention on running. The track was about a hundred meters long, forming a hoop that rotated at constant speed about its center. Centrifugal force produced an effective gravity maybe a third of Earth’s. As you ran, the path ahead seemed to rise all the time in front of you; yet you always felt as though you were on level ground.
A blue strip across the floor of the hoop marked the beginning of each lap. After the first two, Rick began to look for the line of blue and count as they passed it. Three, four, five. . .
When the count reached twenty laps, he wondered how long he would be able to keep it up. He stole a sideways glance at Alice, trying to look nonchalant—and found that she had turned her head at the same moment.
“That’s it for me,” she said, and slowed her pace. “But you don’t have to stop on my account.”
She was laughing at him, Rick felt sure of it. There was a sly, satisfied tone in her voice. He slowed too, trying not to gasp for air. Still she did not seem to be out of breath.