Victoria stopped. Scattered patches of flowers covered the inner slope of the ridge. In the fading light, the blue-gray foliage lost most of its color, but the petals glowed a brilliant, luminous white.
"They bloomed!"
Satoshi smiled. "I thought you'd be pleased."
When Victoria left for earth, the pinks she had planted had been nothing but hard gray buds. Now they spotted the slope with color and spiced the air with their scent.
Victoria bent down, cupped one of the pinks between her hands, and breathed its carnation fragrance. She left it unplucked, though there must be a thousand flowers on the hillside, white ones, pink ones, white with bright red veining.
When they spread and grew together, they would cover the bank with dusty-blue ensiform leaves.
The house was still dark—Stephen Thomas must not be home yet. As Victoria and Satoshi approached, the inside lights came on, casting bright patches across the courtyard.
French windows formed the entire exterior wall of the house.
They were, as usual, wide open- Only Stephen Thomas insisted on using the front door, which he had chosen. It was solid and opaque, a tall rock-foam slab with a rounded top.
Stephen Thomas was an unregenerate fan ofJ. R. R. Tolkien. Victoria liked to tease him that he was far too tall to live in a hobbit-house. He must be of elven stock. Sometimes she wondered.
The British countryside had influenced Victoria, too. The 92 Vonda N. Mclntyre
grass on the roof grew so long that it drooped, and occasionally Victoria trimmed the edges to resemble the thatched roof of an ancient Devon cottage. The thick shaggy grass made the house look as if it had eyebrows.
Victoria and Satoshi stepped through the open French windows. As Victoria kicked off her shoes, she noticed the contraption of glass and metal tubes that hunkered on the floor.
"I give up," Victoria said. "What is it?"
"It's a still. Stephen Thomas was going to find someplace else to put it. I guess he didn't get around to it."
"What's it/or?"
"He says that when his vines are established, and after he learns to make wine, he'll be able to distill brandy."
"What happened to the champagne he was going to make?"
Satoshi chuckled.
They circumnavigated the still.
The main room was plainly furnished. Woven mats covered the solar-fired tiles on the floor; the furniture was of rattan and bamboo. Alzena promised that soon a few trees could be harvested, but for now everyone who wanted furniture made of organic materials had to make do with members of the grass family, fast-growing annuals.
Victoria wanted a rug, but in order to get one she might have to persuade Alzena to approve growing a couple of sheep—it was probably too late to import any from the O'Neilk—then raise them and learn to shear and spin and weave the wool herself. Victoria barely had time for her garden, not to mention the problem of persuading Alzena that sheep would not denude the hillsides. As indeed they might:
one more factor Victoria would have to research if she proposed the project.
Victoria signaled the interior illumination to dim. As the last sunlight faded and the sun tubes began reflecting starlight, the wall of windows and the skylights filled the room with a soft silver illumination.
"Stephen Thomas?"
No one answered.
"He better come home soon," Victoria said. She let the
carrying net slip from her shoulder to the floor, and flung herself onto the folded futon they used for a couch.
STARFARERS 93
Satoshi joined her. Their shoulders touched, and their thighs. Satoshi's kiss left his taste on Victoria's lips.
Victoria heard Stephen Thomas's voice, low and light and cheerful, unmistakable even at a distance. A second voice replied.
Stephen Thomas strode up the path and opened the front door. Kicking off his thongs, he took two long strides and flung himself onto the couch beside his partners.
"Let's go to bed and screw like weasels," he said.
Feral Korzybski, carrying a net bag, followed him into the house.
Completely unembarrassed, Stephen Thomas kissed Victoria and Satoshi and sprawled on the lounge beside them, one arm around Satoshi's shoulders, fingertips brushing the back of Victoria's neck. Of the members of the partnership, he was—at least in public—the most physically demonstrative.
"Uh, hello, Feral," Victoria said. "Was the guesthouse full?"
Victoria felt glad that her dark complexion hid the blush mat crept up her face. Stephen Thomas was only voicing the thought all three partners had. One of the things that first attracted Victoria to him was his ability to say exactly what he thought under most circumstances; and his ability to get himself out of the trouble that sometimes caused him- She reached up and touched his coo! slender fingers where they rested against the back of her neck.
"There's hardly anybody at the guesthouse," Stephen
Thomas said. "Feral checked in, but it's kind of creepy over
there. So I invited him to stay with us."
Victoria looked at Stephen Thomas, surprised and unbelieving.
"I really appreciate the hospitality," Feral said. "I don't think I'd get a good feel for what it's like to live here if I had to stay in the hotel."
"But—" Victoria stopped, not wanting to hurt Feral's feelings.
"Let me show you to the spare room," Satoshi said quickly. He got up.
Sometimes his good manners were too good to be believed.
This was one of those times.
94 Vonda N. Mdntyre
He took Feral into the back hallway. Stephen Thomas followed.
Disgruntled, Victoria sat with her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists. After a moment she got up and went unwillingly down the hall.
The corridor was almost dark. Lit only by daylight or starlight shining through roof windows, it ran behind the main room and the bedrooms. The rough rock foam remained unfinished. No one had taken the time to pretty it up. She passed Satoshi's room and Stephen Thomas's room and her own room.
She hesitated outside the fourth bedroom, the room that should have been Merit's. Then she berated herself silently.
She would have an excuse for her feelings if anyone had ever used this room, if it had real memories in it. But the accident occurred before they ever even moved here. Overcoming her reluctance to go in, she followed her partners. Overcoming her reluctance to let a stranger use it would be more difficult.
The partnership used the room for nothing, not even storage. Victoria had seldom gone into it. The AS kept it spotless. It remained as impersonal as a hotel, with a futon folded in one comer and no other freestanding furniture, only the built-ins. Stephen Thomas stood just inside the door, suddenly uneasy, and Satoshi stood by the closed window, looking out into the front yard.
"We weren't expecting company," Victoria said.
Feral tossed his duffel bag on the floor.
"No, this is great. I don't need much, and I promise not to gel in the way. This will really help. Isolation is no good for getting decent stories."
J.D.'s house was very quiet. The thick rock-foam walls cushioned sound. Woven mats, gifts from co-workers as yet unmet, softened the floor. A futon lay in her bedroom. Victoria had apologized for the sparseness of the furnishings, but after the beach cabin this house of three rooms felt perfectly luxurious.
Still, a lot of work remained before her new place would feel like home.
She ought to try to sleep, but she was still wide awake. STARFARERS 95
The season on Starfarer was spring, and the days were lengthening. It lacked at least an hour till darkness.
Her equipment—her books—had not yet arrived from the transport. She could ask Arachne for something to read. Instead, she curied up on her futon and dug her notebook out of the net bag.