“Don’t disarrange your schedule on our account,” Ghnal said as he ushered them in.
“It’s no great burden. Ah. Here are Ander and Alper.” The two women molded themselves against him, their figures showing the effects of events four months before, and he put his arms around them and let out a sighing breath. “Ghnal, Khrog, here are Alper Gor and Ander Korwits, my mates, if so pallid a word can be used. Ander, Alper, I present Khrog Dhakgo and Ghnal Dhango. They are the proprietors of the troop of enkheil Combat Dancers the ship operators will be working with.”
Ander and Alper nodded and murmured polite greetings. The two enkheil bowed slightly and performed their half-spread and pop of wings. “This is a story we have to hear,” Khrog Dhakgo said in amusement.
“It’s not one I tell very often,” Peters told them with a grimace. “Everyone here has heard it often enough to be bored by it.”
Alper gave him a flashing glance, then looked from Peters to their guests and back. “They’re the ones who gave you the statue, aren’t they?”
“Yes. I hope you’ll make them welcome,” Peters told the girls. “Our previous association was brief but cordial, and I hope to extend it.”
“Which reminds me,” Khrog noted. “When we met before, we invited you to our home, and I think it a marvelous idea to renew the invitation. Sitting in lawn chairs beside the lake, with a drink in hand and no one but ourselves present, you won’t have any excuse not to tell stories.”
“Excellent notion,” Ghnal agreed. “Bring your whole group. Five of you, you said? We can easily accommodate everyone, and we can sit by the lake and watch the show as you tell the story. The weather is forecast to be lovely, and the show should be spectacular.”
Peters nodded and smiled. “That sounds ideal to me, but we’ll have to wait until Dzheenis and Khurs come in to know if I’ll be dispensable for long enough. Ander, Alper, what’s your opinion? You expressed an interest in experiencing a planetary surface, and here is a way to do so in comfort.”
The two women exchanged looks. “Let us think about it for a short while,” Ander said. “Considered coldly, without the intense emotional background, the idea makes me somewhat nervous.”
“When we get to Earth we’ll surely have to go Down, to meet John’s other family,” Alper pointed out. “This would serve as a sort of introduction to the idea.”
“More new experiences,” Ander noted. “You’re right, Alper. Ghnal Dhango, Khrog Dhakgo, thank you for the invitation. We hope you won’t take our natural trepidation as a reflection on your hospitality.”
The door latch worked, and Khurs entered. “Hello,” she said to the group in general. “Dzheenis will be down shortly; he is conferring with the enkheil.”
“Good,” said Peters. “Enough of that; no business at dinner. Ghnal, Khrog, you have already met Dzheenis; Khurs is also part of our group.”
In the end they all went down to the surface of Keelisika. They sat, as promised, in lawn chairs by the lake, which proved to have the major city of Keelisika on the other side, and had front-row seats for both the air show and the fireworks that followed.
The “missing man” formation met Khrog Dhakgo’s unmitigated approval, and when the Dancers copied it he was ecstatic. “Yes!” he almost shouted. “An absolutely beautiful bit… What are they doing?”
The two ships, one human, one enkheil, that had left the finger-fives as the “missing man” had come together and were flying side by side, approaching the main thrust of the formation at a sharp angle. When they reached the center of the lake they turned upward, and spiraled slowly around one another as they climbed in a gentle pas de deux that couldn’t have been performed with reaction engines and continued until they were out of sight in the clear blue sky. “That’s beautiful,” Khrog exulted. “It’ll be worth teaching the other companies the maneuver just to be able to do that at the end. Whoever thought of that gets a bonus, Ghnal. A big one.”
“I’ll see to it,” said Ghnal with a broad smile. “Yes, it’s very effective. But it might have been one of the humans who thought of it.”
“If a human deserves the bonus, a human gets it,” was Khrog’s summation. “It’s gorgeous. Paying for it makes using it seem a little less like stealing.”
Everyone laughed at that. Peters felt a hand slip into his, and looked down at Ander. He took Alper’s hand in the other and followed their gentle urging to the edge of the broad deck, where they stood beside the railing and looked out over the water. A cool breeze stirred the leaves of dark-red and black-purple trees, and Keelisika’s daystar cast lambent rays on the rippling surface of the water. The girls clung to his arms, crowding close without forming their usual embrace, and Ander Korwits sighed. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “We have missed so much.”
“Indeed we have,” Alper breathed. “Of course, most have… I don’t think one ferassi in a thousand ever ventures beyond the hull of the ship except for child-trades. They couldn’t imagine this. Neither could I have, before… Oh! It’s insupportable!” And she turned to push her face against Peters’s shoulder.
“Easy, easy,” he said, and felt them both tremble. “Not all places on planets are so pleasant. You will have many opportunities to sample the experience. I have no taste for living always within walls.” He looked across the deck, where Dzheenis and Khurs were sitting in chairs with drinks and plates before them. He smiled. “In fact, I think it will be a custom of the Peters pa’ol; we will visit Down whenever possible.”
They ate a delicious meal prepared by enkheil servants who moved about, silent and unobtrusive, then watched fireworks sent up from a platform in the center of the lake, arching fire against the unfamiliar constellations. Between blazes of red and blue, gold and green, Peters told the story of the pirate ship, Jivver, and Trader 1049, and his audience oohed in all the right places.
Afterward they spent the night, the three of them intertwined in an enormous bed with white fluffy pillows, in a bedroom on the third floor, with huge windows looking out across the lake and the city. They didn’t make love, or rather they did, a warm heart-sharing that had nothing to do with glands and organs, and fell asleep snuggled under a soft coverlet with the breeze blowing the curtains in flowing falls.
Sometime in the small hours, with the merest hint of pale-gray shading the sky above the city, Ander woke with a startled “Oh!” and a jerk. Peters came fully awake as she sat up, seeming incandescent in the starlight. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, and felt Alper stir against his right shoulder.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, and the smile in her voice matched the one in her eyes. “The baby moved, and it woke me up.”
“Mine is letting me sleep,” Alper said with a tinge of envy. “Don’t wake him up.”
“I’ll be quiet,” Ander promised. She lay back against his chest and sighed, and used her free arm to pull the covers back up. He couldn’t have spoken; his throat was too full. So were his eyes, and he felt warm wetness on his shoulder and chest. The three of them lay, dripping hot tears of joy into the crumpled sheets, until they fell asleep again.
He was working at his desk the next day, or rather shuffling things around to simulate work, when the news came that Ghedekepoalla had arrived as expected. A little while later the runner came by with notification: Llapaaloapalla would depart at the next third ande, which by his schedule was fifth ande, effectively midnight.