He shifted the paper in his hand and pushed it at her face. "Read that paragraph! What is the date in it?"
She was hissing and snarling. Then, "Ouch. You're breaking my arms! ALL RIGHT! It says you married her twenty-six months ago!"
He threw that aside and took another paper. She tried wildly to get loose.
"Look at this paper! What is it?"
"You're bruising my neck. It's that suit from that whore, Toots Switch!"
He shifted the paper. "Read that paragraph! What's the alleged date?"
"It says you married her fourteen months ago! Why are you torturing me? I hate them. I hate them! I hate them!"
Heller had the front page of a newspaper. "Look at this news story. What is it?"
"You're breaking my legs! It's that awful Maizie Spread."
"What does that line say?"
"That you came to her father's farm a year ago. And oh, you brute, I bet you had fun! I hate her!"
He now picked up a booklet. "Now look at THIS. What is it?"
She tried to get away from him again. She closed her eyes. He applied pressure. "It's your Fleet combat engineer log!" she snapped.
He opened it. "Look at this. Look at these pages. Do you see Planet Earth? Blito-P3?"
She struggled but she scanned the pages. "No!"
"Now look at this last page."
Suddenly she freed her wrists and grabbed the log. He must have relaxed his grip for now she was able to sit up. She did so, eyes riveted on the log.
She turned it over to verify it was actually the log. Then she tore through the pages again. Then she stared at him. She said, "You never even saw this planet until a year ago! And you never even landed then!" Her eyes were wide with astonishment.
Suddenly she began to cry. She reached out and put her arms around his neck, clutching him convulsively, sobbing.
There was a rap on the door. A gruff voice said, "Ma'am, are you all right in there? A sentry reported something breaking somewhere this end of the ship."
She raised her head, swallowed hard and made a determined effort to speak.
"No, nothing is broken now!" she cried. "Thank Gods it's just been mended!"
The footsteps went away.
After a while, the Countess Krak stood up and began to pace, barefooted, in her negligee, back and forth across the yacht bedchamber. She seemed very agitated.
Heller, sitting in the middle of the Persian rug, still in his black underwater suit, watched her and I watched his viewer. Hers was still off.
She stopped suddenly, wringing her hands. "Oh, how I have wronged you!" she said with a wail.
"No, no," said Heller. "We'll just forget about it and start over as though it never happened."
"NO! I refused to accept your word. I didn't trust you. I told you to your face that you were a liar. Oh, how AWFUL! I even sullied the honorable word of a Royal officer of the Fleet! You will never forgive me!"
"But I do forgive you."
"Oh, no! It is too horrible!" She got down on her
knees beside him. "I can never make it right! It's an absolutely unforgivable thing I did!" She sprang up again and began to pace. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! How can I ever make it up to you!"
"By just being your beautiful self," said Heller.
"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head. "I believed those false suits. I believed the newspapers. I believed what those fiends said but I didn't believe my darling Jet-tero!"
She dropped down on her knees beside him once more. "I was absolutely HORRIBLE!" She was staring at his face. "Oh, Heavens! I even slashed your face to ribbons with that bottle I threw!"
Heller touched his face, looked at his fingers to see if there was any blood. Then he touched a bandage. "Oh, you mean these. Those are just razor cuts. Nothing."
She had a hand tentatively touching his chest. "Is there anything broken here? A rib? Oh, dear," she wailed, "I smashed your chest with that magazine!"
"Magazine?" said Heller. "Oh, that. It didn't seem worth ducking."
She was touching his head and shoulders anxiously.
Then she looked down and let out a shriek. "Your hands! They're cut to bits!"
She had his palms lifted and was staring at the torn gloves. There were some tiny spots of blood.
"It's nothing," said Heller. "I just got them climbing up a wire rope."
"OH!" she wailed. "You're just trying to spare my feelings and make me think I didn't cause these AWFUL injuries. But I did!" She suddenly put his head against her breast. "I've hurt my darling Jettero! Oh, I should be whipped!" She pushed him back and looked anxiously at his face. "Are they paining you terribly?"
Then she shook her head. "You wouldn't say if they were. Here, I'll be as gentle as possible. Can you stand?"
"Of course I can stand!" said Heller, getting to his feet.
"Here, lean on me, I'll get you over to the couch." She eased him down on it. "Sit there," she said anxiously. "I'll get a basin of water and soak your hands so we can get those blood-caked gloves off of you."
She rushed off and came back with a basin of water. She put his hands in it. She was working to get the cotton off them. Bending over the basin, her tears were splashing into the water. "I've hurt my darling Jettero. And all the time he was innocent!"
"Listen," he said. "That's all over now."
She looked up at him. "No, it isn't. For the next hundred and fifty years, every time you look at me, some little part of you will say, She didn't believe me and she attacked me and all because of her I got maimed and crippled."
"Oh, no," said Heller. "I wouldn't do that."
"Oh, yes. But worse, I would know it myself." She got up suddenly and walked back and forth, wringing her own hands. "I have to make this right! I have to do something to make amends for it. I can't live with myself unless I do!" Then she wailed. "I even deserted you when you needed me!" She stopped and knelt before him pleadingly. "Tell me you forgive me!"
"I forgive you utterly," he said.
She got back up. "No. That isn't enough. I can't permit you to forgive me. It is too awful!" Then she suddenly stood up very straight. She said in a firm voice, "I have no right to inflict my upset on you when you're in so much pain. You don't need an emotional female on
your hands. So stop worrying. I will be efficient and effective."
She got down on her knees again and peeled off his gloves. She rinsed his hands in the basin and set it aside. She peeled him out of his wet suit. At his direction, she got the light out of his sack and played it on his face, evidently turning it back to its natural color.
She went and got the Zanco medical kit she had assembled. And with far, far too much instant-heal and with far, far too many cups and bandages, took care of his very superficial injuries.
Then she went over to the phone by the bed, made a call, and after a bit, when a tray was delivered, brought it in. She made him get into bed, propped up, put the tray of broth and crackers on his lap and began to dip crackers into the broth and put them in his mouth.
That done, she made sure he was very comfortable, lying back on the pillows. "Do you feel up to talking?" she said.
"Listen," said Heller. "I'm not sick. I'm okay."
"Please stop pretending," she said. "I can face up to what I have done and it is absolutely disgustingly AWFUL. So don't try to spare my feelings. Just tell me now everything that has been going on and don't gloss over any details."
So he told her about the race and the publicity and the suits and the Sea Skiff and the Coast Guard and, under her questions, anything else he could recall, including the fact that there were arrest warrants out for him.