“And Heaven help any poor bugger who has to rely on that lot to get them out of trouble.”
Louis’s remark went only to Atvar H’sial, and he had time for no more. Julian Graves, apparently well pleased with himself, was saying, “Now, I urge you to go ahead and make all necessary preparations for your assignment.” At the same time, Darya Lang and Sinara Bellstock were both on their feet and heading in his direction.
Darya pushed in front of the younger woman. “Louis, I want to wish you good luck and success. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again before long.” As she turned away, she added, “Last time you asked me, I refused to have dinner with you. Next time we meet, please ask me again.”
She gave him an enigmatic smile and slipped away. Before Louis had time to react, Sinara Bellstock was standing in front of him and throwing a mock salute. “Captain Nenda, survival team specialist Sinara Bellstock reporting for duty and at your service. I will be aboard the Have-It-All in less than half an hour. Whatever you want me to do, just let me know.”
She turned and headed across the chamber, leaving Louis with his mouth open and Atvar H’sial behind him, saying, “Louis Nenda, it is beyond logic why I continue a relationship with you as a business partner. The mating rituals of humans never cease to shock and amaze me. In ten thousand years of supposed civilization, they have made no progress whatsoever. Have you no shame? In the course of a lifetime, not only do you permit multiple mates, but you seek to enjoy more than one mate at the same time. Come, J’merlia.”
The Cecropian’s pheromones seethed with disapproval, as she in turn headed away and out of the chamber.
As the room emptied, Louis was left with Kallik and Archimedes and his own thoughts.
It makes no sense, no sense at all. The only woman I’ve had sex with since I met Atvar H’sial has been Glenna Omar, and At totally approves of her and thinks she’s wonderful. But women I’ve never even considered having sex with, like Darya Lang and Sinara Bellstock, make At crazy. She’s right, it is beyond logic why we keep going as business partners.
Below those thoughts, running at a far deeper level than the conscious, was an admission that Louis was not willing to make: Atvar H’sial had the power to read in detail the pheromonal products from Darya Lang, Sinara Bellstock, and Louis himself. And the other reluctant admission: pheromones don’t lie.
CHAPTER TEN
A useless diversion?
Hans Rebka deliberately steered clear of Darya Lang during the day before departure. If she thought that he was angry because he would not be in charge of the expedition on Iceworld, that couldn’t be helped. Two years ago she and Hans had been so close that she could sweet talk him into revealing almost anything. In some ways he’d like to think that was still true, but he didn’t want her knowing his current intentions. He wasn’t sure he understood them himself.
To avoid Darya, he sought out and spent as much time as possible with the two survival team members assigned to his group. Ben Blesh and Lara Quistner might not know the value of understanding your team members before you got into trouble, but Hans had learned it in a score of dangerous situations.
At Hans’s suggestion, the three of them took a ride outside the Pride of Orion in one of the ship’s pinnaces. There he watched with amazement as the main vessel reconfigured itself to permit two smaller vessels to be spun off from the main body. The process resembled the reproduction of some great animal, as a new ship grew out of and finally separated from the mass of the old. It occurred to Rebka that the analogy might be more than that. Could it be that the Pride of Orion was a mixture of biological and inorganic components? If so, the technology of Fourth Alliance worlds had advanced far beyond what that group was willing to admit to the poorer clades. It also offered the promise of flexible structure for the sub-ship they would be using.
The casual attitude of Ben Blesh and Lara Quistner convinced Hans that what they were seeing was nothing new to them. They treated Rebka himself as though he were the odd and interesting phenomenon.
“Didn’t you have medical treatments and curative drugs available when you were a child?” Lara Quistner asked. “If we’d had anything as bad as your condition, we would have been treated before we were old enough to remember.”
Until he encountered the fortunate inhabitants of the rich planets of the spiral arm, Hans Rebka had not realized that he had a condition. A large head and a small frame, on his birth world of Teufel where a shortage of food and essential trace elements was taken for granted, had been the rule rather than the exception. He considered explaining this to Lara Quistner and Ben Blesh, then decided it would be a waste of time. He could quote what residents of the Phemus Circle said about his home world—"What sins must a man commit, in how many past lives, to be born on Teufel?"—but he suspected that the other two would still have no idea what he was talking about.
He contented himself with a shrug, and ended the conversation with, “Where I grew up, I was considered normal—and pretty lucky.”
The new ship was full-sized now, and taking final shape before his eyes. Hans inspected it from bow to stern. Fully equipped for interstellar or interplanetary travel it might be, but no one would call it large. Four people would be a tight fit—even if they all got on with each other, which Hans knew would not be the case once they were on the way.
It was time for a change, to a subject that might reveal more of his companions’ personalities. He said, “We’re going to be flying in a vessel that never flew before. We ought to have some kind of naming ceremony. Any thoughts as to what we should call it?”
Lara Quistner glanced at her companion but said nothing. Fair enough. Ben was the senior member. Regardless of her individual competence, she was someone who would respect authority and a chain of command.
After a few moments, Ben Blesh said, “I agree that the ship should have a name. But don’t you think that Professor Lang ought to have a voice in what we call it? I certainly do.”
Blesh was pointing out, fairly directly, that he would not go along with any suggestion made by Hans. Maybe he was looking for an argument, and given what Hans had in mind once they were on the way, argument with Ben Blesh was almost certain. Until that time, however, it was best to avoid confrontation.
Hans said mildly, “Oh, I wasn’t by any means trying to exclude Professor Lang. We certainly wouldn’t decide anything until she gave her opinion. I was just asking your preliminary thoughts.”
“In that case, what about Savior as a good name?”
Ben Blesh’s suggestion came without any pause for thought, and the proposed name told Hans a lot about the speaker. Blesh must have a greatly inflated idea of what a small exploration team to Iceworld might accomplish. They were seeking facts, and only facts. Savior? Saving anything more than themselves and whatever they might discover was too grandiose an ambition. If Lara Quistner deferred to Blesh on the basis of his seniority, and if he was consistently unrealistic, difficulties for the group were guaranteed. Julian Graves had not helped. He had put Hans in a position where after they reached Iceworld he could offer advice until he ran out of breath, but there seemed little chance that Blesh would take any notice.