“There isn’t any, Rocco.”
“Oh? Have you any idea, Helva, how many circuits lead into this?”
“I know of a few, but I think you’re going to tell me.”
“Setting aside your understandable yearning to be the fastest virgin in the Galaxy-and you’ll need the speed with Parollan aboard …”
“Tsk, tsk, jealous?”
“Or Parollan’s wish to prove himself a better brawn than the prototype, we have dear Chief Railly, all set for that jump onto Central Worlds Council.”
“Is that why he’s been on our backs like a leech?”
“You didn’t know? Tsk! Tsk on you, Helva. Yesiree ma’am! Since the civilian branch has blown it with their manned ship, think of all the glory accruing to one Chief Railly for getting the drive approved, of getting you, the very valuable and very well known 834 to extend her contract, thanks to his masterful handling of the negotiations.”
Helva made a rude noise. “Parollan masterminded it.”
“Undoubtedly he did, but Railly gets the official credit. Not only does Railly have a finger in your pie to be gold-plated; Dobrinon has first whack at the biggest Xeno plum in psychological history; Breslaw is frankly starry-eyed with visions of commanding the warp-drive squadrons.”
“Rocco? What’s in it for you?”
“Me?” Rocco made his eyes innocently wide.
“I’d’ve thought you’d be flogging me, too, to rescue the four I left behind me. -Oh, so that’s it. Yes, they would be classed as mutant minorities.”
“That’s the kindest designation.” Rocco cleared his throat.
“Yes, there was a lot of unfavorable publicity about them. I’d’ve thought the news value long since exhausted.”
“It wasn’t so much publicity, Helva,” said Rocco, again biting the corner of his lip thoughtfully. One booted toe swung up and down. “No, society just doesn’t like its members opting out of its grasp, particularly into a total alien form.”
“Not to mention leaving their bodies behind.” Helva had always wondered what had happened to the empty husks of Kuria Ster, Solar Prane, Chaddress of Turo, and … Ansra Colmer. But not so much that she could bring herself to ask. When she and the rest of the dramatic troupe had presented Romeo and Juliet to the Beta Corvi-in exchange for the stabilization of isotopes-they had had to use “envelopes” suitable to the methane-ammonia atmosphere of the planet. A timer had been rigged in the transfer helmets to insure that that consciousness returned to its proper environment. After the final performance, four people had not returned and were encapsuled in the Beta Corvi envelope. For very good and understandable reasons, or so Xenologist Dobrinon would like her to believe.
“There has been considerable pressure, you know,” Rocco was saying, “on both SPRIM and Double M to investigate their defection emigration temptation …” He shrugged at the euphemisms employed. “Or at least to bring back conclusive evidence that they are happy in their new lives.”
“I know two who are-three. Solar Prane has a new body; Kuria couldn’t care less about hers so long as it was near his; Chaddress had nothing to look forward to in retirement, and Ansra Colmer …”
Rocco eyed Helva keenly, expectantly. “And Ansra Colmer…”
“Oh, the Corviki knew how to handle her.”
“Hmmm.”
“But aren’t you slightly in conflict with yourself, Rocco? I mean, you class shell people as mutant minorities, though strictly speaking I’m a cyborg-”
“Yes, Helva,” Rocco sounded purposefully pathetic, “the boot does pinch.” His foot in fact was swinging, which was an unconscious gesture that would intrigue the good Dobrinon. “I cannot reconcile coercing you to find out if the … flitting four were in any way coerced.”
“I quite appreciate your dilemma, so I’ll lift you off one horn. I do not, not even after all your interesting disclosures, consider myself coerced. Ah ah,” for Rocco began to protest. “Pressured? Possibly, but I’ve been conditioned to a fine sense of responsibility, you see. I brought the equations for that nardy drive back to Regulus, and I inadvertently misplaced four passengers who were, you must admit, essentially my responsibility to convey thither and hither safely. I’d like some peace of mind on both counts.”
“I’ll forego knowing about our lost souls if you’ll forego that drive.”
“No way. I want that drive. How else can we pay oS my indebtedness?”
“I’ll call foul for you?”
“Rocco, I’m surprised. Shocked! This cannot be the incorruptible …”
“Damn it, Helva, I want you out of that contract and out away from Parollan. He’s dangerous!” Rocco was on his feet and pacing. “Good heavens! Why?”
“He’s got a fixation on you, a brawn fixation.” “Who told you that? Broley? Oh, fardles, Rocco! Because he had the Asurans extrapolate a solido of me from my genetic background?”
“You knew?”
“He had a set made of every BB ship he supervised.”
Rocco pointed a finger at her. “You’re different.”
“Quite likely. He’s my brawn. Bluntly, Rocco, you’re making a tempest in a teacup.”
“A fixation could be dangerous to you in space, Helva, in a man of Parollan’s sexual appetite.”
“That fixation reached critical … and passed. That’s why Niall became my brawn. He’s far more aware of the inherent dangers of a brawn fixation than you are, Rocco. Or Broley.”
Rocco affected a shrug, but Helva suspected he was unconvinced.
“All right, Helva, we’re back to Square One and I’ll rephrase my initial question: Do you want what you now have, or were you made to want it?”
“Hey, Helva,” Niall said into the corn-unit, “let the lift down.”
“Think on it, Helva, and remember that you can count on my support if you feel that you have actually been constrained against your own best interests.”
Niall’s hearty “Helva, I got ‘em,” as he waved the grapelike cluster of circuit guards, dwindled off in surprise at seeing their guest.
“Well, we’re honored, Rocco?” “My congratulations on your appointment, Parollan. I’ll be following the exploits of the NH-834 with renewed interest.”
“I’ll just bet you will.” Niall’s smile took the sting out of his slightly aggressive words.
“Fair enough,” replied the Double M official, his own expression sardonic. He moved toward the airlock. “You are, you realize, very definitely in a minority.” “How so?” asked Niall, amused, as he neatly arranged the circuit guards on the gutted console and turned to face Rocco. “My good Parollan, you are the only man who ever resigned from BB ship service to become a brawn.”
“I’m no mutant.” Helva could hear the edge in Niall’s voice, although generally his small stature didn’t bother him.
“What is the definition of a mutant?” That was Rocco’s exit line as the lift took him down, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Well, hump me, what was he after?” Niall asked.
“I gather he’s been listening to Broley’s gossip.”
“And what is the gospel according to City Manager Shell Person Broley?”
“We’re being coerced.”
Niall scratched his ear, screwed up his face, and gazed out of the open airlock. Helva was situated by the immense Engineering sheds of the Regulus Base Complex. Niall had a clear view of the distant administration buildings at the opposite end of the plain. There were, as always, tremendous comings and goings of small ground vehicles and light helis. as well as slim BB ships. Niall looked away from the airlock, toward her. Fleetingly Helva wondered if Niall Parollan “saw” the titanium column behind which her encapsulating shell rested, or the solido the Asurans had made, extrapolating a mature human body from her genetic background.